Dialogues
GILLES DELEUZE
and
CLAIRE PARNET

Translated by
HUGH TOM L I NSON
and
BARBARA HABBERJAM

t01
New York Columbia University Press

t01 .

Deleuze. Gilles.Columblia University New York © 1977 Flammarion. Paris. Gilles-Interviews. Ill. Dialogues. Translation of preface and translators' introduction © 1987 The Athlone Press All rights reserved. I. I. II. AC25. Claire. Includes index. Title. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Deleuze.l 87-5199 ISBN 0-231�7 Hardback ISBN 0-231-06601-5 Paperback c 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 p 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 . (European perspectives) Bibliography: p. Parnet.D4213 1987 084'. Series.

On the Superiori ty of Anglo-American Literature 36 3 . A Conversation : What is it? What is it for? 2. Contents Prefact to English Language Edition by Gilles Dtltu�t vu Translators ' Introduction x1 I. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 77 4 . Many Politics 124 Notes 149 I ndex 155 .

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is the noun multiplicity. Of course a multiplicity . virtue. history . a pluralist. States of things are neither unities nor totalities. but multiplicities. Preface to the English Language Edition I have always felt that I am an empiricist. the Subject. which designates a set of lines or dimensions which are irreducible to one another. nor that each state of things is itself multiple (which would simply be to indicate its resistance to uni­ fication ) . the abstract is given the task of explaining. from the point of view of empiricism. Empiricism starts with a completely different evaluation: analysing the states of things. Even if it means undergoing a terrible crisis each time that one sees rational unity or totality turning into their opposites.1 I n so-called rationalist philosophies.. or the subject generating monstrosities . I t is not just that there are several states of things (each one of which would be yet another) . One starts with abstractions such as the One. that is. Every 'thing' is made up in this way. but must itself be explained . and it is the abstract that is realized in the concrete. . but to find the condi­ tions under which something new is produced (creativmess). The essential thing. But what does this equivalence between empiricism and pluralism mean? It derives from the two characteristics by which Whitehead defined empiricism: the abstract does not explain. and the aim is not to rediscover the eternal or the universal. the Whole. ) . in such a way that non-pre­ existent concepts can be extracted from them. and one looks for the process by which they are embodied in a world which they make conform to their requirements ( this process can be knowledge.

a set of relations which are not separ­ able from each other. a field of sti tches. but from the history in which they are developed . like two conceptions and even two very different ways of thinking. A line does not go from one point to another. avoid or fail to avoid the foci. . which are distinct not only from unities. the between . a climate. points of subjectivation. We constantly oppose the rhizome to the tree. a day. of individuation without subject ( the way in which a river. like one of Pollock's lines. Empiricism is fundamentally linked to a logic . These lines are true becomings. but as factors which can prevent its growth and stop its lines .a logic of multiplicities (of which relations are only one aspect) . bifurcate. To extract the concepts which correspond to a multiplicity is to trace the lines of which it is made up. Every multiplicity grows from the middle. but passes between the points. ceaselessly bifurcating and diverging. to see how they become entangled. centres of totalization . a being-whole or being as subject . instead of a being-one. In a multiplicity what counts are not the terms or the elements. like the blade of grass or the rhizome. is individualized ) . an event. That is. to determine the nature of these lines. and not the reverse. These factors are in the multiplicity to which they belong. the slipper. an hour of the day. the concept exists just as much in empiricism as in rationalism. One day Freud sensed that the psychopath ex­ periences and thinks multiplicities: the skin is a collection of pores. but it has a completely different use and a completely different nature: it is a being-multiple. connect. This book (first published i n France i n 1 977) aims to high­ light the existence and action of multiplicities in very different domains. .vm Dialogues includes focuses of unification . Multiplicities are made up of becomings without history. But he constantly fell back on the calmer vision of a neurotic unconscious which plays with eternal abstractions (and even Melanie Klein's partial objects still . but what there is ' between'. the bone is extracted from an ossuary .

I t seemed to u s that politics i s a t stake a s well and that in a social field rhizomes spread out everywhere under the arborescent apparatuses. Hence. . This book happened . What mattered was not the points . therefore. to a subject. no longer . on li terary. d i v ergent and muddled lines which constituted this book as a mu ltiplicity and which passed between the points. 'a Hans becoming horse . to a totality. carrying them along without ever going from the one to the other. most immoderate and worst­ received work. This book itself was 'between' in several senses. even if it is lost. even if it is split) . the proper name as individuation without subject. the first plan for a conversation between two people. scientific and poli tical formations. which we had begun and which was our most ambitious. which Guattari and I had finished. not merely between two books. me and many others. which is become noun l suhstanti. Preface to the English Language Edition 1x refer to a unity. I t was between two books. And a s I wrote it with Claire Parnet. mathematics and physics is multiplicity and that both set theory and the theory of spaces are still in their infancy. C laire Parnet. . the Anti-Oedipus.f] and which does not need to refer to anything other than I tself: the indefinite article as particle. this was a new point which made possi ble a new line-between. even if it is to come. This book is made up of such a collection of musings [reveries] on the formations of the unconscious.but the collection of bifurcating. I t also seemed to us that the highest objective of science. and A Tlwusand Plaleaus. but between Felix Guattari and me. I t is very difficult to reach a thought of the multiple as such. to vegetable and animal l i fe . who fu nctioned simply as temporary. the verb in the infinitive as pure becoming. . transitory and evanescent poi nts of subj ectivation . ' It seemed to us that the great project of English and American literature was to get close to such multiplicities: it is in this literature that the question 'What is it to write?' has undoubtedly received the answer which is closest to life itself.Felix. in whid1 one asked questions and the other replied.

like the subterranean shoots of a rhizome. but not without middle. it is an overflowing. or even from someone else.x Dialogues had any value. without beginning or end. As we became less sure what came from one. corresponding to Miller's phrase: 'The grass grows between . . a lesson in morality . ' Gilles Deleuze. . . . as opposed to the unity of the tree and its binary logic. 1986 . . we would become clearer about 'What is it to write?' These are lines which would respond to each other. since they could not be immersed in it without changing qualitatively. what came from the other. according to becomings which were unattributable to individuals. The divisions had to rest on the growing dimensions of the multiplicity. This really was a book without subject.

This took place every . It is therefore both an explanation and an exemplification of 'Deleuzian pluralism'. It grows in many direc­ tions. In the first chapter the first half is signed by Deleuze and the second by his 'interlocutor'. T h ese 'dialogues' are themselves offshoots of Deleuze's famous seminar at the University of Vincennes (where Claire Pa rnet was a regular participant). However. external ordering being placed on Deleuze's thought. as Deleuze says in the preface to this edition. In the other chapters the halves are unsigned and it is no longer possible to extricate the individual contributions. without an overall ordering principle. it soon became clear that the 'interview' format was inappropriate: that the mechanism of 'question and answer' had the effect of forcing him into a position in which he had nothing to say. The result was a format in which each chapter is a 'dialogue' consisting of two halves which link and operate together in a multiplicity of ways. but a multiplicity of interconnected shoots going off in all directions. To use Deleuze's terms it is the book as war-machine. There is no hierarchy of root. the book as 'rhizome'. What was needed was a format in which a 'dialogue' could take place without a forced.although it has elements of both. Claire Parnet. The book is therefore not an 'interview' or a 'conversation' . Translators' Introduction Dialogues was commissioned as a conventional book of inter­ views in a series of the same name which included interviews with writers such as Roman Jakobson and Noam Chomsky. trunk and branch.

It was up to the participants to 'correct out' the dualisms by which Deleuze was travelling. where only those who arrived an hour early would find a seat. 3 RJliQJmt ( 1976) 4 and A ThowanJ Plateaw ( 1980) . We have sought to translate 'key terms' in a way which is consistent with the recent translations of all his works. These links are made explicit in the discussion of the superiority of Anglo­ American literature in Chapter 2.5 Of all these works Dialogues is the most 'personal' and the most im­ mediately accessible. 2 Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature ( 1975). 6 We would like to thank Professor Deleuze for his assistance with the translation. Although this attempt operates against a background of a French intellectual life which is already becoming curiously dated it also has im­ portant links with English ways of thinking. 1 These processes can be seen at work here. in a tiny seminar room. Deleuze's 'explorations' would be informal and far-ranging with frequent questions and interruptions. The English-speaking reader will. by passing through all the dualisms which are the enemy. 'to arrive at the magic formula we all seek. distinctions would proliferate.ousanJ Plateaw. PLURALISM = MONISM. The rhizome would grow. to think the unthinkable' . from Chinese metallurgy to bird-song. . for the first time. Discussions would range from Spinoza to modern music. Thus Deleuze appears from this book as an empiricist and pragmatist of a particular type: not a 'passive pragmatist' measuring things against practice but a 'constructive' pragmatist whose aim is 'the manufacture of materials to harness forces.xii Dialogues Tuesday morning. choked with smoke. We have followed earlier translations in rendering agmammt . . All of them will soon be available in trans­ lation. from linguistics to gang warfare . the translator of A Th. the altogether necessary enemy'. We would like to thank Brian Massumi. have an opportunity to form a proper assessment of a radical and original attempt to 'think' an active pluralism. for his suggestions and comments. This book itself 'grows from the middle' of the remarkable series of works produced by Deleuze and Felix Guattari during the 1970s: Anti-Oedipw ( 1972 ) .

for example. including Martinjoughin. We have therefore trans­ lated such compounds as. without subject or object. The sense is not of something which 'becomes woman' where 'being woman' is the result of the becoming but rather of a 'pure woman be­ coming'. Professor Deleuze wanted a translation 'which highlighted the relationship to the word or at least to language (as in mot de passe [password]) '. The important term mot d'ordre caused us some difficulty. for example 'woman' . This is also the trans­ lation independently adopted by Brian Massumi. After discussion with Professor Deleuze we chose the word 'ri tomello' as the most appropriate English rende­ ring. I ts literal meaning is 'word of order' but the usual translation is 'slogan' . We finally decided on 'order-word'. 8 We have provided some further ex­ planations in translators' footnotes which are indicated by an asterisk ( * ) . The French word ritoumelle is usually translated as 'refrain' in the musical sense and also covers the repeated theme of a bird's song. The boo k makes frequent use of compounds of the verb devenir such as devenir-femme or devenir-animal. Hugh Tomlinson Barbara Hahherjam . Paul Patton and in particular Robert Galeta. We would like to thank all those who have given us advice and assistance. 'woman-becoming' . is ' becoming' . Caroline Davidson and Richard Williams not only helped and encouraged us but had to suffer the translating process at uncomfortably close quarters. 'a way of assembling or arranging' as well as the n·sulting 'ord ering or arrangement'. This should not be interpreted as implying that something. Professor Deleuze has pro­ vided a new footnote for this translation to explain his use of the term 'hecceity' . Translators' Introduction xm as 'assemblage' . 7 The French word has both an active and a passive sense.

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let's go on to something else. if people ' pose' them to you. If you aren't allowed to invent your questions. a dialogue. The art of constructing a problem is very important: you invent a prob­ lem. I want to say : 'OK. a conversation. or between two or more. I t's the same when I am asked a general question. not reflection. whether it's alone. I don' t have anything to say. Questions are genera l l y aimed at a future (or a past).an interview. The aim is not to answer questions.' Objections have never con tributed anything. Many people think that it is only by go i n g back over the q uestion that it's possible to get out of it. But getting out never ha pp e n s like that. the future of philosophy. Objections are even worse. it's to g<·t out . to get out of it. 'W hat is the position with philosophy? Is it dead? Are we going beyond it?' It's very trying. Above all. when someone asks me a question. None of t h is happens in an interview. Most of the time. I see that. The future of women. like any­ t hi n g else. a conversation. Even reflection. even one which relates to me. Getting out is al ready achieved . from never mind where. a problem-position. Every time someone puts an objection to me. a discussion. is not enough . They won't stop returning to tht· question in order to get out of it. Movement always happens behind the thinker's back. before finding a solution. I A Conversation: What is it? What is it For? I It is very hard to 'explain oneselr. you haven't much to say. etc. t h e future of the revolution. or in the moment when he blinks. with elements from all over the place. or else it never will be. strictly. Questions are invented. OK. But .

The wasp and the orchid provide the example. The orchid seems to form a wasp image. Becomings are not phenomena of imitation or assimilation. they are orientations. We think too much in terms of history. Nor are there two terms which are exchanged . The wasp becomes part of the orchid 's reproductive apparatus at the same time as the orchid becomes the sexual organ of the wasp. but in fact there is a wasp-becoming of the orchid. man-animal. an orchid-becoming of the wasp. and which does not necessarily happen through the militants. a single bloc of becoming. There is a revolutionary-becoming which is not the same as the future of the revolution.2 Dialogues during this time. masculine-feminine. of non-parallel evolution. There is a woman-becoming which is not the same as women. To become is never to imitate. what he is becoming changes as much as he does himself. which are almost imperceptible. Nuptials are the opposite of a couple. none which you arrive at or which you ought to arrive at. Nuptials are always against nature. Becomings belong to geography.simply the outline of a becoming. as Remy Chauvin says. there are becomings which are silently at work. There is no terminus from which you set out. an 'a-parallel evolution of two beings who have . while you turn in circles among these questions. directions. etc. There are no longer binary machines: question-answer. of nuptials between two reigns. their past and their future. whether personal or universal. nor to conform to a model. or. a double capture since 'what' each becomes changes no less than ' that which' becomes. but of a double capture. The question 'What are you becoming?' is particularly stupid . There is a philosophy-becoming which has nothing to do with the history of philosophy and which happens through those whom the history of philosophy does not manage to classify. nor to 'do like'. One and the same becoming. For as someone becomes. their history. This could be what a conversation is . and it is essential that women enter this becoming to get out of their past and their future. entries and exits. whether it's ofj ustice or of truth .

everyone can understand one another and there is scarcely any reason to ask questions or to raise objections . nor the principles. a conversation. so that there is no longer even any need for a rev iew. in short. any more than are modes of life. In life it is not the stories. But the good ways of reading today succeed in treating a book as you would treat a record you list en to. neither are there metaphors (all metaphors are sullied words. You can always replace one word with another. There are ones which are bad and rotten. and perhaps of writing. nor the rhythms and figures. take another. There are only inexact words to des­ ignate something exactly. a single bloc. a film or a TV programme you watch. If each one of us makes this effort. or else make them so) .not an exchange. but 'a confidence with no pos­ sible interlocutor'. c he two forming a single becoming. I c is like Mozart's birds: in this music there is a bird-becoming. Today we have at our disposal new ways of reading. Let us create extraordinary words. There are ani mal-becomings of man which do not consist in playing the dog or the cat. nor the sen tences. on condition that they be put to the most ordinary use and that the entity they designate be made to exist in the same way as the most common object. any . as a commentator on Mozart says. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 3 no th ing whatsoever to do with one another' . Styles are not constructions. In style it is not the words which count. There are no literal words. an a-parallel evolution . I f you don't like that one. nor the consequences. h u t only for empty words ( 'You must read that! I t's grea t! Go on! You'll see!') to avoid reading the book and putting t h e article together. Becomings . but caught in a music-becoming of the bird . put another in its place. we get the feeling that some boo ks are wri tten for the review that a journalist will haw to produce. For example. since man and the animal only meet on the crajectory of a common but asymmetrical deterritorialization .they are the thing which is the most im­ perceptible. they are acts which can only be contained in a life and expressed in a style. if it doesn't suit you.

Luca. We must be bilingual even in a single language. There's no question of difficulty or understanding: concepts are exactly like sounds. and even the Swiss Godard . we must have a minor language inside our own languge. A style is man­ aging to stammer in one's own language. 'They have no style.4 Dialogues treatment of the book which claims for it a special respect . which are acceptable or aren't acceptable. Things never pass where you think. Being like a foreigner in one's own language. I should like to say what a style is. It belongs to people of whom you normally say. colours or images. nothing to interpret. Beckett. be­ cause there has to be a need for such stammering. Con­ structing a line of flight. Not being a stammerer in one's speech. Gherasim Luca is a great poet among the greatest : he invented a prodi­ gious stammering. He gave public readings of his poems in front of two hundred people. And so? This is not the problem for any of them. Gherasim Luca and Godard . nor a little piece of m usic. an event belonging to no school or movement. It is difficult. M ultilingualism is not merely the property of several systems each of which would be homogeneous in itself: it is primarily the line of flight or of variation which affects each system by stopping it from being homogeneous. Kafka the Czech Jew writing in German. nor a reflected organization. and yet it was an event. but being a stammerer oflanguage itself. they are intensities which suit you or not. of Rumanian origin. nor along the paths you think. nor an orchestration. his own. There's nothing to understand.comes from another era and de­ finitively condemns the book. You can always object that we are choosing favourable examples. which would pass through these two hundred. an assemblage of enunciation. It is an assemblage. Pop philosophy. the I rish Beckett writing English and French.' This is not a signifying structure. Not speaking like an I rishman or a Rumanian in a language other . we must create a minor use of our own language.an attention of another kind . nor a spontaneous inspiration. The most striking examples for me are Kafka.

To each sentence we attach a meaning. that they create yet another language inside its language. But in great literature all our mistrans­ lations result in beauty. Life is like that too. not pretending. an uncertain heal th. Charm and style are poo r words. the stammerer or the foreigner.those who have no charm have no life. when I have power). since it affirms chance sufficiently instead of detaching or mutilating chance or red ucing it to probabilities. Thus through each fragile combination a power of life is affirmed with a strength. but on the contrary speaking in one's own language like a foreigner. ' That is the definition of style. . an obstinacy. Whereas the problem is that of a minoritarian­ becoming. but the figure of their own combination. I n life there is a sort of awkwardness. at the same time as they carry life to the state of absolute power or of 'Great Health'. but relate to the use of the book . . It is what makes people be grasped as so many combinations and so many unique chances from which such a combination has been drawn. 'Great literature is written in a sort of foreign language . the animal. It is strange how great thinkers have a fragile personal life. Charm is the source of life just as style is the source of writing. an unequalled persistence in the being. a delicacy of health. It is a throw of the dice which necessarily wins. ' 1 This is the good way to read : all mistranslations are good . it is as though they are dead. Here agai n it is a question of becoming. the woman. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 5 than one's own. People always think of a majoritarian future (when I am grown up. not playing or imitating the child. in order to invent new forces or new weapons.always provided that they do not consist in interpretations. we should find others. which is often a mistranslation. a frailty of constitution. These are not people. replace them. the madman. or at any rate a mental image. Life is not your history . but becoming all these. But the charm is not the person. that they multiply its use. Charm gives life a . Proust says: 'Great literature is written in a sort of foreign language. a vital stammering which is someone's charm.

something which passes or happens be­ tween two as though under a potential difference: the 'Com­ pton effect'. But it is an extremely populous solitude. and a leap of joy moreover. personalized . events. a zigzag. which never makes a leap. The only aim [fin] of writing is life. and the philosopher in particular. but . and in which writing takes itself as its own end . . debased. for nature then feels that for the first time it has reached its goal . This knowledge transfigures nature. writes: It sometimes seems as though the artist. but the proper name does not designate a person or a subject. through the combinations which it draws. you are necessarily in absolute solitude. entities. . has made its one leap in creating them. An encounter is perhaps the same thing as a becoming. It is from the depth of this solitude that you can make any encounter whatsoever. very much alive but with fragile health. Populated not with dreams. is only a chance in his time . but with encounters. mortified. We said the same thing about becomings: it is not one term which becomes the other. and a gentle eve­ ning-weariness. The only work is moonlighting and is clandestine. phantasms or plans. in which life is constantly mutilated .where i t realises it has t o unlearn having goals a n d that it has played the game of life and becoming with too high stakes. reposes upon its face. nature. Nietzsche. at the same time. the opposite of the neurotic. the 'Kelvin effect'. You encounter people (and sometimes without knowing them or ever having seen them) but also movements. And this is the same thing: writing does not have its end in itself precisely because life is not something personal. above individuals. It designates an effect. 2 When you work. ideas. style gives writing an external end [fin] which goes beyond what - is written. This is the opposite of 'neurosis'. All these things have proper names. that which men call ' beauty'. or be part of a school. or nuptials .6 Dialogues non-personal power. You cannot have disciples.

theft a double-theft. an a-parallel evolution. copying. a single becoming which is not com mon to the two. the double capture. outside the two. To encounter is to find. and which flows in another direction. Stealing is the opposite of plagiarizing. but which is between the two. be mingled . but something which is between the two. but there is no method for finding other than a long preparation. nuptials. or something which would be in the other. ] . even if it had to be exchanged . and it is that which creates not something mutual. a tune. an a-parallel evolution. I pray. a bloc of becoming. to capture. imitating. a stealer of souls I have built an' rebuilt upon what is waitin' for the sand on the beaches carves many castles on what has been opened before my time a word . A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 7 <'ach encounters the other. a line keys in the wind t'unlock my mind ' an t'grant my closet thoughts backyard air it is not of me t'sit an' ponder wonderin' an' wastin' time thinkin' of thoughts that haven't been thunk t h i nkin' of dreams that haven' t been dreamt ' an new ideas that haven't been wrote ' an new words t'fit into rhyme [ . which has its own direction. I am a thief of thoughts not. always 'outside' and 'between'. . a conversation. since they have nothing to d9 with one another. ' an not t' worry about the new rules for they ain' t been made yet . or doing like. to steal. Capture is always a double-capture. So this is what it would be. the wasp AND the orchid: not even something which would be in the one. but an asymmetrical block. This is i t. Yes. a story.

Judging is the profession of many people. Having a bag into which I put everything I encounter. if the people of tomorrow really need the rules of today rally 'round all you prosecutin' attorneys the world is but a courtroom yes but I know the defendants better 'n you and while you're busy prosecutin' we're busy whistlin' cleanin' up the courtroom sweepin' sweepin' listenin' listenin' winkin' t'one another careful careful your spot is comin' up soon. nor rules. It says it all. but also the opposite of a master or a model. yet no method. with a technique of con­ triving. recognizing and j udging.also modest . For recognizing is the opposite of the encoun ter. suddenly. And that it should begin as he does. The opposite of a plagiarist. stealing instead of reg­ ulating. Nuptials without couples or conj ugality . nor recipes.is this Bob Dylan poem. but it is also the use to which many people put writing. . As a teacher I should like to be able to give a course as Dylan organizes a song. Better to be a road-sweeper than a judge. with his clown's mask.8 Dialogues an' t'shout my singin' mind knowin' that it is me an' my kind that will make those rules . the more one gives lessons: no one is as good as a Stalinist in . and it is not a good profession. and yet improvising each detail. . 3 How proud and wonderful . The more one has been fooled in one's life. provided that I am also put in a bag. encountering. Finding. A very lengthy preparation. as astonishing producer rather than author.

But what is good in a gang. juste une image]. I n j ustice they demand conformity. the becoming. neither a union. It is the same in philosophy as i n a film or a song: no correct ideas. schools. There are also those who demand to be j udged. j ust an image [pas une imagejuste. is that each goes about his own business while encountering ot he r s . Compare Godard's formula. bu t the birth of a stammering. making a line or bloc shoot between two people. showing what t h e conjunction AND is. even if this is to rules which they invent. are so clever at asking them and replying to them. he is obviously not trying to say that he wants to produce his own films or he wants to edit his own book s.gangs live through the worst dangers. and why they like questions so much. There is a whole race of judges. bu t is 'between' everyone. Just ideas: this is the encoun ter. In the TV conversations 6 limes 2 what were Godard and Mieville doing if not making th<" r i c he s t use of their solitude. nor a juxtapos i t i o n . this 'between-two' of solitudes. justes des idies ] . forming j udges. Being a 'gang' . in principle. courts. because. to a transcendence which they claim to reveal or to feelings which motivate them. He is trying to say j ust ideas. the outline of a . and is stolen by others.a bloc starts moving . producing a ll the phenomena of a double capture. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 9 giv i ng lessons in non-Stalinism and pronouncing 'new rules'. Justice and correctness are bad ideas. using it as a means of en­ cou n t er . when it comes down to it. or else Pure Faith ..which no longer belongs to anyone. the theft and the nuptials. you are a production studio. When Godard says he would like to be a production studio. like a little boat which children let slip a nd lo s e. families and conj u g a lities again . not a correct image. This is why people speak so readily in the name and in the place of others.. you are all alone. you have never been more populated . each bri ngs in his loot and a becoming is sketched out . if only to be recognized as guilty. j ust ideas [pas d'idies justes. it lays claim to a court of Pure Reason. and the history of thought is like that of a court. You are no lo n ger an author. and yet you are like a conspiracy of criminals.

lines of flight. so that something passes between the two which is nei ther in one nor the other. I see my friend Jean-Pierre. a sort of active and creative line of flight? AND . but with whom? With Jean. she came upon Lawrence's poems about tortoises . Now. This is an encounter. that a monetary balance im­ plies a line between two sorts of operations which are appar­ ently simple: but in fact economists can make this line pass anywhere. Burroughs' cut-up is still a method of probabilities .Pierre. in short. This is better than the 'cut-up' . I t is rather a 'pick-me-up or 'pick-up'4• . . . a chance is needed. restarting of the motor. and then the sexual connotation of the word . I do not know anything about tortoises and yet that changes everything for animal-becomings. what . and that they do not necessarily know which line they are on or where they should make the line which they are tracing pass. etc.in the dictionary = collecting up.IO Dialogues broken line which always sets off at right angles. . AND . there is a whole geography in people. with rigid lines. You should not try to find whether an idea is j ust or correct. people. who explains to me. it is not clear that any animal whatsoever is caught up in these becomings. but t9 pick up this or that in areas which are very different. You don' t have to be learned. In her own work. For example. You should look for a completely different idea. are made up of very varied lines. in connection with something else. or else someone gives you one. . AND . one does not generally find this idea alone. coming from far away in another direction . getting on to the wavelength. to know or be familiar with a particular area. with a word. so that they haven't the slightest idea where to make it pass. .at least linguistic ones . with a field.and not a procedure of drawing lots or a single chance which combines the heterogeneous elements. I am trying to explain that things. in another area. . elsewhere. Her ideas always seized me from behind. so that we crossed all the more like the signals from two lamps. with a gesture? I always worked in this way with Fanny. chance. supple lines.

Then wr are told . In Guattari there has always been a s o rt of wild rodeo. And Jerome. love. always walking. as it were. . experimentation on oneself. of laughter and smiles which one feels to be 'dangerous' at the very moment when one feels tenderness . set it out as I see it. A man without references. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 11 about tortoises or giraffes? Lawrence says: ' I f I am a giraffe and the English people who write about me are well-trained dogs. an ascesis. getting rid of some and encouraging others to prosper.the finest compliment . our single cha n ce for all the combinations which inhabit us. but populated by tri bes. . nothing works any more. We are deserts. the movements which move you. 'You are not masters. says Franc.this set as a unique combination whose proper name would be Foucault. but believe me. of de­ cisive gestures. they pass through it. of deep attention and sudden closure. or with the animals �\·ho come to populate you. ' Our enemies � re dogs. . You say that you like me. the animals are too different. But what precisely is an encounter with someone vou like? Is it an encounter with someone. tell you that he has said this or that to me. . the on l y friend whom I have never left and who has never left me . do not undermine the dese rt. . or with the ideas which take you over. A n d a l l these clans. We pass ou t time in ordering these tribes. I n each of us there is. of ideas all made of tinder and fire. on the contrary they inhabit it. JONAH . The desert. This is nothing as long as I have not been able real ly to encounter this set of sounds hammered out. and whose generosity. flora and fauna.ois Ewald . which is our very ascesis. the sounds which run t h rough you? And how do you separate these things? I can tal k of Foucault. in part turned against ourselves. . Jean-Pierre. you don't like me. ' We should have so much liked to be something else. . is our only identity. that silhouette. moving. was nourished at a secret source. vou i nstinctively detest the animal that I am. penetrated to the core with life. all these crowds. in part directed against himself. arranging them in other ways. over it. but you are even more suffoc a t i ng.

At the Li beration we were still strangely stuck in the history of philosophy . Like all creative things and people. too much method. One had long white hands and a stammer which might have been a legacy of childhood. except those who claim to be thinkers or .except Sartre. I am not quite sure why. Alquie and Hyppolite. commentary and interpretation . at that time I did not feel drawn towards existentialism or towards phenomenology. we threw ourselves like puppies into a scholasticism worse than that of the Middle Ages. he grows from the middle. hanging his words on the beats. and rhythmically beat out Hegelian triads with his fist. but it was already history when you got there. he was really the breath of fresh air from the backyard (and it was of little importance to know exactly what his relationship with Heidegger was. And Sartre has never stopped being that. Fortunately there was Sartre. whom I liked and admired a lot. which would also be the most ancient thought. from the poin t of view of a history to come) . obviously) but 'What was his r61e in this new injection of history of philosophy?' No one takes thought very seriously. he is in the middle. Husserl and Heidegger. I t is idiotic to wonder whether Sartre was the beginning or the end of something. it was his unique combination which gave us the strength to tolerate the new restoration of order.under the pretext of opening up a future of thought. and which was harnessed to the service of Cartesian dualisms.an intellectual who singularly changed the situation of the intellectual. Among all the Sorbonne's probabilities. The other had a powerful face with unfinished features. but a little fresh air . the history of philosophy tightened itself around us . after the Liberation.a gust of air even when he had j ust been to the Cafe Flore . or there to hide a native accent. So. Sartre was our Outside. However. We simply plunged into Hegel. Everything turned out badly.12 Dialogues I was taught by two professors. The ' Heidegger question' did not seem to me to be ' I s he a bit of a Nazi?' (obviously.without our realizing it . not a model. imitation. a method or an example.

For thought borrows its properly philos ophical image from the state as beautiful. as an abso lute state. to the dominant meanings and to the re­ q u i r c m c n ts of the established order. The rela­ tionship goes further back. with ministers of the I nterior and bur ea ucrats of pure thought. But that doesn't stop it from having its own apparatuses of power . Kant and Heidegger. it's not im­ portant. Philosophy's relationship with the State is not solely due to the fact that recently most philosophers have been 'public professors'5• (although this fact has had a very different significance in France and Germany) . since I give you conformity. question and answer. a court of r<'ason. substantial or subje ctive interiority. since it . an enq uiry of the understanding. and even in thought. Nietzsche said everything on this point in 'Schopenhauer Educator' . It invents a properly spiritual State. norms and rules. It has played the represser's role: how can you think without having read Plato. no tion s such as universality. o pera tes effectively in the mind . an image'. to all of which you may submit all the more as you say: 'That's not my business. An image of thought called philosophy has been formed historically and it effectively stops people from thinking. method . Philosophy is shot through w i t h t h e project of becoming the official language of a Pure Sta te. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 13 philosophers by profession . The exercise of thought thus conforms to the goals of the re al State. and so-and-so's book about them? A formidable school of intimidation which manu­ factures specialists in thought .6• Everything which . because I think for you.but which also makes those who stay outside conform all the more to this specialism which they despise. always having correct ideas . ' The history of philosophy has always been the agent of power in philosophy. a pure 'right' of thought. judgement.or its being an effect of its apparatus of power when it tells people: 'Don't take me seriously. it's for philosophers and their pure theories. of j ust correct. Hence the importance of themes like those of a republic of spirits. Hence the importance of . which is by no means a dream. or recognition. Descartes.

this role of represser of thought can be played by disciplines other than philosophy and its history . since it is imbued with correct ideas. capture and thefts. to utter are the new forms of 'correct' ideas.allies itself with linguistics. and Marx. But keen competitors have already taken its place. Of course. or Hegel. but who escaped from it in one respect.nomadism. These are the new apparatuses of power in thought itself. or even a people's tribunal . the triad and the operation of the negation. I could not stand Descartes. I could not see any way of extracting myself. consistent with the transmission of 'order-words' 7 • and the organization of re­ dundancies. Linguistics triumphed at the same time as information was being developed as power. since madness itself passes through psychoanalysis and linguistics reunited. Epistemology has taken up the reins from the history of philosophy. to transform. Freud and Saussure make up a strange. interregnums. Even Chomsky's syntactic marker is primarily a marker of power. becomings. . We have no right to lay claim to madness.when it was still being prescribed . since it has its clowns. minor languages or stammering of language. a dominant major language. I t can even be said that today the history of philosophy has gone bankrupt and that 'the State no longer needs the sanction of Philosophy' . Psychoanalysis increasingly concerns itself with the 'thought' function and . nuptials against nature. etc. But I liked writers who seemed to be part of the history of philosophy. the war­ machine. So I began with the history of philosophy . three-headed Represser. For my part. Marxism brandishes a judgement of history. when many other disciplines are assuming its function . .which are even more disturbing than the others . its professors and its little chiefs. the dualisms and the Cogito.not without reason . There is not really much point in wondering whether philosophy is dead.14 Dialogues belongs to a thought without image .is crushed and denounced as a nuisance. and was imposing its image of language and of thought. with a strong culture or a history without becoming. To interpret.

A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 15

or altogether: Lucretius, Spinoza, H ume, Nietzsche, Bergson .
( )f course, every history of philosophy has its chapter on
emp iricism: Locke and Berkeley have their place there, but in
Hu me there is something very strange which completely dis­
places empiricism, giving it a new power, a theory and
practi ce of relations, of the AND, which was to be pursued by
Rus sell and Whitehead , but which remains underground or
ma rginal in relation to the great classifications, even when
they inspire a new conception of logic and epistemology .
Berg son, of course, was also caught up in French-style history
of p hilosophy, and yet in him there is something which cannot
br assimilated , which enabled him to provide a shock, to be a
rallying point for all the opposition, the object of so many
hatreds: and this is not so much because of the theme of
duration, as of the theory and practice of becomings of all
kinds, of coexistent multiplicities. And it is easy to credit
Spinoza with the place of honour in the Cartesian succession ;
except that he bulges out of that place in all directions, there is
no living corpse who raises the lid of his coffin so powerfully,
crying so loudly 'I am not one of yours.' It was on Spinoza
that I worked the most seriously according to the norms of the
history of philosophy - but he more than any other gave me
the feeling of a gust of air from behind each time you read him,
of a witch's broom which he makes you mount. We have not
yet begun to u nderstand Spinoza, and I myself no more than
others. All these thinkers are of a fragile constitu tion, and yet
shot through with an unsurmoun table life. They proceed only
through positive and affirmative force. They have a sort of cult
li f<' (I fan tasize about writing a memorandum to the Academy
of the Mo ral Sciences to show that Lucretius' book cannot end
with the descri ption of the plague, and that it is an invention,
a fa l s i fi c a t ion of the Christians who wanted to show that a
m � leficent thinker must end in terror and anguish
) . These

t mkers have few relationships with
each other - apart from
N�<'tz
_
schc a nd Spinoza - and yet they do have them . One
might sa y that something happens between
them, at different

16 Dialogues

speeds and with different intensities, which is not in one or
other, but truly in an ideal space, which is no longer a part of
history, still less a dialogue among the dead, but an inter­
stellar conversation, between very irregular stars, whose
different becomings form a mobile bloc which it would be a
case of capturing, an inter-flight, light-years. Then, I had paid
off my debts, Nietzsche and Spinoza had released me. And I
wrote yet more books on my own account. I believ!! that what
concerned me, in any case, was to describe this exercise of
thought, whether in a writer, or for itself, in so far as it is
opposed to the traditional image which philosophy has pro­
jected, has erected in thought in order to subjugate it and
prevent it from functioning. But I do not wish to begin these
explanations all over again. I have already tried to say all that
in a letter to a friend , M ichel Cressole, who had written some
very kind, and very mischievous, things about me.
My encounter with Felix Guattari changed a lot of things.
Felix already had a long history of political involvement and
of psychiatric work. He was not a philosopher by training, but
he had a philosopher-becoming all the more for this, and
many other becomings too. He never stopped . Few people
have given me the impression as he did of moving at each
moment; not changing, but moving in his entirety with the aid
of a gesture he was making, of a word which he was saying, of
a vocal sound, like a kaleidescope forming a new combination
every time. Always the same Felix, yet one whose proper
name denoted something which was happening, and not a
su bject. Felix was a man of the group, of bands or tribes, and
yet he is a man alone, a desert populated by all these groups
and all his friends, all his becomings . Many people have
worked in pairs: the Goncourt brothers, Erckmann-Chatrian,
Laurel and Hardy. But there are no rules, there is no general
formula. In my earlier books, I tried to describe a certain
exercise of thought; but describing it was not yet exercising
thought in that way . (Similarly, proclaiming ' Long live the
multiple' is not yet doing it, one must do the multiple. And

A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 17

nei ther is it enough to say, 'Down with genres' ; one must
effectively write in such a way that there are no more 'genres',
t>tc. ) With Felix, all that became possible, even if we failed .
\V c were only two, b u t what was important fo r u s was less our
working together than this strange fact of working between the
two of us. We stopped being 'author'. And these ' between-the­
twos' referred back to other people, who were different on one
side from on the other. The desert expanded, but in so doing
hecame more populous. This had nothing to do with a school,
with processes of recognition, but much to do with encounters.
And all these stories of becomings, of nuptials against nature,
of a-parallel evolution, of bilingualism, of theft of thoughts,
were what I had with Felix. I stole Felix, and I hope he d id the
same for me. You know how we work - I repeat it because it
seems to me to be important - we do not work together, we
work between the two. In these conditions, as soon as there is
this type of multiplicity, there is politics, micro-politics . As
Felix says: before Being there is politics. We don't work, we
negotiate. We were never in the same rhythm, we were always
out of step: I understood and could make use of what Felix
said to me six months later; he understood what I said to him
immed iately, too quickly for my liking - he was already
elsewhere. From time to time we have written about the same
idea, and have noticed later that we have not grasped it at all
in the same way: witness ' bodies without organs'. Or take
another example. Felix was working on black holes; this
ast ro nomical idea fascinated him. The black hole is what
captures you and does not let you get out. How do you get out
of a black hole? How do you transmit signals from the bottom
ofa black hole? I was working, rather, on a white wall: what is
a white wall, a screen, how do you plane down the wall and
lll ake a line of flight pass? We had not brought the two ideas
togethn, but we noticed that each was tending of its own
accord towards the other, to prod uce something which, in­
d eed , wa s nei ther in the one nor the other. For black holes on
a white wall are in fact a face, a broad face with white cheeks,

Pick-up is a stammering. following a line or lines which are neither in one nor the other. is a typical example of the way in which a work is assembled betwen us. But pick-up as procedure is Fanny's word . Suddenly the problem bounces back and it is political : what are the societies. tentacles . it happens between ideas . the a-parallel evolution. Here is a multiplicity with at least three dimensions. I n fact. but a broken line which shoots between two. neither union nor juxtaposition . Felix and I are finishing a large book. and to what end? It is not obvious. it is rather the assemblage or the abstract machine which is to produce the face. still worse. . . White wall . political . No. It is only valid in opposition to Burroughs' cut-up: there is no cutting. labelled. for me. that is 'like' a white canvas in painting. the 'face'. I n none of the cases are we making a metaphorical use of it: we don't say that is 'like' black holes in astronomy. . the civilizations which need to make this machine work. Now it no longer seems like a face.18 Dialogues and pierced with black holes. astronomical. people keep on being sunk in black holes. pinioned on a white wall. proliferation. the beloved 's face. We are using deterritorialized terms. Her only fear was that it was too much of a pun. does not happen between persons. . terms which are torn from their area. astronomers envisage the possibility that. the boss's face. folding and turning down . that is. . aesthetic. to 'overcode' the whole body and head with a face. to produce. This is a pick-up8 • method . each one being deterritorialized in the other. all sorts of black holes will converge to form a single hole of a fairly large mass . recognized is: a central com­ puter functioning as a black hole and sweeping across a white wall without contours. At present. 'faceity' as social function. but multiplications according to the growing dimensions.black hole: this. We are talking literally . and which carry off a 'bloc'. This is what being identified . that is. I do not wish to reflect on what is past. in order to reterritorialize another notion. And. 'method ' is a bad word . the faceification of the physical and social body . in the centre of a globular cluster. The pick-up or the double theft.

the process of question and answer is made to no u rish d ualisms. We will do something else. • • One must multiply the sides. etc. What­ <'Vl'r t he tone. the man/writer. from Felix's side ( black hole. The tone of questions can vary: there is a clever/treacherous tone. back to back . . . Dualisms no longer n·l ate to u nities. front to front . 4 . but 'Deleuze explains Guattari. . or never: you and I . and i t will be the last. life/work dualisms in the interviewee h i m self. but to successive choices: are you white or bl ac k.? Do you take the left . 'On the side or 9 • . signed z'. . You hear them every day on telev ision . etc. n . signed x'. there is firs t of all the interviewer/interviewee dualism . ' x explains y. micro-politics. front to back . a servile tone. . I should therefore like to talk aho ut what we are doing now. abstract machine. and then. For example. the dualism between the work and the i nt <·n tion or the meaning of the work. h<"yo nd . But it is always like the Luca poem ( I don't quote exactly ) : Shooters and shot . an equal-to-equal tone. but is between 2. back to back and to front. . or again . and again. And when it's a col­ l oq u i u m or a round table it's the same. No longer is it 'x explains x. . . so that something is produced which doesn't belong to either of us. rich or poor.. break every circle in favour of the polygons. ) . There is not one of these ideas whi ch did not come from Felix. II If the question and answer procedure is not suitable it's for very simple reasons. 3.D. signed you'. man or woman . Thus the con­ versation would become a real function. we can make use of it in another bloc or on another side. with your own ideas. . G. deterritorialization. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 19 I t i s nearly finished . or on the contrary. Now is the moment to exercise the method . Afterwards we will see. in a literary interview.

Even when we are speaking for ourselves. if he replies 'Black'. I swear that the examples that I give are real. (2) A patient speaks of the Bouches du Rhone. thus I win at each move) . Thus a grille is constituted such that everything which does not pass through the grille cannot be materially understood . You want to make someone choose. the manipulator replies. You cannot escape being had. (3) A depressed patient speaks of his . the opinion of the ordinary prisoners who fill the prisons being pushed back outside the grille or outside the subject. we have lost in advance. judge/lawyer. even when the interviewer is a person of good will. It is in this sense that we are always 'had' by television. 'Why do you say big pee?' [gros pipi]. You have only to continue: 'Do you prefer hearts or diamonds?' Until ' Do you prefer the king or the queen of hearts?' The binary machine works in this way. ' I want to go off with a hippy group' [groupe hippie]. you withdraw the black cards from the table. we always speak in the place of someone else who will not be able to speak. in a broadcast on prisons the following choices will be established: jurist/prison governor. the psychoanalyst himself comments. ' I nvitation to a journey that I emphasize with a mother's mouth' (if you say 'mother' [mere] I keep it and if you say 'sea' [mer] I withdraw it. Consider the well-known card trick. You say first of all : 'Do you prefer red or black?' I f he answers 'Red'. The point is that the machine goes beyond us and serves other ends. you take the red cards and again you withdraw them . the king of hearts. ( 1 ) A patient says. possessed or rather dispos­ sessed . with its process of the association of ideas . social worker/interesting case. since the questions are already worked out on the basis of the answers assumed to be probable according to the dominant meanings. although confidential and non-personal.20 Dialogues half or the right half? There is always a binary machine which governs the distribution of roles and which means that all the answers must go through preformed questions.) For example. Psychoanalysis is exemplary in this respect. 'forced choice' . for example.

Even the divergences of de v ia ncy will be measured according to the degree of binary cho i c e. And Ren­ aissance. And it is not surpris­ ing that the face has such importance in this system : you must have the face of your role . to retain only their anaemic double. Oh yes. so many representatives who spoke in the name of our conscience. Nothing is less pdrsonal than the fa c e. The psychoanalyst says. Where it commands attention. psychoanalysis is not at all the purloined letter. and . his politics. Where it does not command attention it is because there were other means. is it Fran�ois I or the mother's wom b? Let us keep ' mother' . ' Let us keep Rene. his experiences and his assemblages. on such and such a level in the po ssi ble successive choices.in such and such a place among t h e pos sible elementary unities. sunk in a hole. There were al ready so many people. you are neither white nor black. and to push outside the grid all that the patient has said about his desires. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 21 memories of the Resistance and of a chief of the network called Rene. Arab then? Or half­ hrC'ed? You are neither man nor woman. it is because it gave the binary machine new material and a new extension. we are at this last level of choice. his loves and his hates. it's Renaissance. ' Re-ni [re­ born] is no longer Resistance. transvestite then? This is the white wall/black hole system . But in fact the binary machine is an important com­ ponent of apparatuses of power. it is the forced choice. Even the madman must have a face corresponding to so m <' ty pe which we expect of him. When a schoolteacher has a s tr a n ge appearance. So many dichotomies will be established that there will be enough for everyone to be pinned to the wall. consistent with what we expect of an apparatus of power. so many priests. i t was necessary for this race o f priests and representatives to speak in the name of the unconscious. Psychoanalysis is a very cold en­ terprise (a culture of death drives and of castration. of the dirty 'little secret') to crush all the patient's utterances. It is said that 'the base 2' is the <'asiest. It is wrong to say that the binary machine exists only for reasons of convenience.

And it is all the more obvious that language is not neutral. this would be: above. The schema of informatics begins from a presumed maximal theoretical information.what Ezra Pound calls the ordinary sensual man. or stuttering. It is perhaps that information is a myth and that language is not essentially informative. strictly speaking. . between the two. the face-information. ' or ' Lower your eyes . which diminishes theoretical information but also enables it to overcome noise. First of all there is a language-face relationship. If linguistics i tself proceeds by dichotomies (cf. When the schoolteacher explains an operation to the children. The base model. it is the schoolteacher. the 'news'. or silence. All types of face will be de­ termined on the basis of this model. redundancy. proceed by redundancy) . redundancy as mode of ex­ istence and of propagation of orders { the newspapers. as Felix says. On the contrary. . through successive dichotomies. features of 'faceicity': ' Look at me when I speak to you . as always the minimum required for the comprehension of orders. . something which could be either the shout. this is not so innocent as one might think. Ulysses. she transmits 'order-words' to them. but. if informatics proceeds through the succession of dual choices. . give them information. and which would be like language's line of flight. necessarily conforming to dominant meanings. or when she teaches them grammar. anti-information and . is the face of the ordinary European of today . she communicates orders to them. look she is depressed . What? What did you say. speaking in one's own . she does not. underneath. or she has gone mad . Chomsky's trees where a binary machine works inside language) . This is why it would be necessary to modify the schemea of informatics. not informative. at the other end. why do you look so glum?' What the linguists call 'distinctive features' would not even be discernible without the features of faceicity . and . and lower still. language is always indexed on features of the face. first level. it puts noise as interference.22 Dialogues we say: yes. Language is not made to be believed but to be obeyed .

I n everything you have written there is the theme of an image of thought which would impede thinking. and moreover. the more you are legislators. One could also say: undo the face. Nevertheless. But it is thought which is crushed by these paving stones which are called philosophy. by these images which suffocate and jaundice it. play a repressive role today. the middle and not the beginning or the end. it is the image of a 'com- . grass which is in the middle and which grows from the middle.good will of the thinker who seeks the 'truth'. A Conversation: Whal is it? Whal is il for? 23 language as a foreigner. Always grass between the paving stones. I n Diffirtnct el Ri­ pitit ion. and that. what counts is the present-becoming: geography and not history. sets it up as an apparatus of power itself. if informatics. 10* ) you tried to enumerate these images which offer au ton omous ends to thought. as universal State. making a minority use of language. good nature of thought which possesses 'the true' by right. installs in i t an apparatus of power. in order to make it serve ends which can hardly be acknowledged . You do not say that we are not yet thinking. you are not a Heideggerian. You love the grass rather than the trees and the forest. They can all be s u m marized in the order-word : have correct ideas! I t is first of al l the im age of good nature and good will . The Ratio as tri bunal. ' I mages' here doesn't refer to ideology but to a whole organization which effectively trains thought to operate according to the norms of an established order or power. if linguistics. as republic of spirits ( the more you are subjected. Future and past don ' t have much meaning. and that there is a future of thought which plunges into the most immemorial past. to pure reason ) . Anyway. which would impede the exercise of thought. unravel the face. and not trees which have a top and roots. . for yo u a re only subject . it is because they themselves function as binary machines in these apparatuses of power and constitute a whole formalization of order rather than a pure science of units of language and of abstract information contents. between the two. . Then . everything would be 'hidden from view' .

24 Dialogues mon sense' . Then. The interesting point i s j ust as much the reverse: how can thought shake off its model.even locally. (3) which would not be closed on recogni tion. It can always be said that you were trying to pull them towards you . make its grass grow .as if thought had only to mistrust external influences capable of making it take the 'false' as true. on the contrary. Spinoza. but which. to 'pose' questions or to 'set' problems. but which would open to encounters and would always be defined as a function of an Outside. and truth as sanctioning answers or solutions for questions and problems which are supposedly 'given' . these violences. Thoughts: ( I) which would not originate in a good nature and a good will. And even authors about whom you have written. to any Power. (2) which do not operate in a concord of faculties. or whether it is Foucault . you found in them these acts of thought without image. (5) which would be defined in the movement of learning and not in the result of knowledge. (4) which would not have to struggle against error. doesn't this mean that something or someone is set up as a model of the activities of the thinker who makes use of all his faculties on an object which is supposedly the sam e. Finally. and which would not leave it to anyone.harmony of all the faculties of a thinking being. You would only meet those who had not been waiting for you to produce encounters in themselves. stupidity. these encounters. even at the margins. but which would come from a violence suffered by thought.' to recogn i ze' .as place of truth. But they would scarcely let themselves be pulled. these n uptials which make them creators well before they are authors. Then again. it is the image of recognition . that is as objects of recognition. it is the image of error . you claimed to extricate from the history of .you did not treat them as authors. Nietzsche or Proust. imperceptibly. whether it is H ume. again. blind as well as blinding. would take each faculty to the limit of its dis­ cordance with the others. but would have to disengage themselves from a more internal and more powerful enemy. it is the image of knowledge .

The whole w orl d demands roots. There are f<·w disciplines which do not go through schemas of ar bo re scence: biology. Now. a whole history. it can be cut up by cuts which are s a i d to be significant in so far as they follow its arborescences. the tree of knowledge. Power is always arborescent. an evol u t i o n . You set about opposing the rhizome to trees. its points of arborescence. even Proust escapes. a development. a functioning. etc. in order better to serve ends against life. At the same time that an author is designated. . A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 25 philosophy those who had not waited for you in order to emerge. seed or centre. but an image of thought. it is a binary machine or principle of dichotomy. And trees are not a metaphor at a l l . a hierarchical system or transmission of orders. by the game of the narrator. having its ends in itself . thought is subjected to an image and writing is made an activity different from life. it has a future and a past. There are all kinds of characteristics in the tree: there is a point of origin. the other by aphorisms which are the opposite of an author's maxims. linguistics. its concentricities. there is no dou bt that trees are planted in our h <'a d s : the tree of life. roots and a peak. with its perpetually divided and reproduced branchings. and Foucault. a system of points and positions which fix all of the possible within a grid . Your work with Felix ( writing a deux is already a way of stopping being an author) has not got you out of this problem but has given it a very different orientation. it is an axis of rotation which organizes things in a circle. . informatics (automata or . a whole apparatus t hat is planted in thought in order to make it go in a straight l i n e and produce the famous correct ideas. cf. it is a structure. w i t h a central instance and recapitulative memory. the one by t h e power of a geometrical method . the ways he suggests for escaping the function of the author in L 'Ordrt du Discours 1 1 • ) . its moments of develop­ m m t . You only found creators in those in who had not waited for you in order to stop being authors ( neither Spinoza nor Nietzsche were 'authors': they escape from it. and the circles round the centre. i ts br anchings.

even in these disciplines. producing the line and not the point. Non-parallel evolu tions. without future or past. but which leap from one line to another. tribunals. . Schools are of the arborescent type. among things . Populating without ever specifying. as Surrealism crushed the international Dadaist movement. excommunications.lines of flight. cracks. etc. leaping over significant breaks . . manifestos. etc. declarations of avant-gardeism. but operate for the benefit of a still darker organ­ ization: a kind of marketing. And a school is already terrible: there is always a pope. There are cen tres everywhere. Each decisive act testifies to another thought. There are multiplicities which constantly go beyond binary machines and do not let themselves be dichotomized . Producing population in a desert and not species and genres in a forest. becomings.26 Dialogues centred systems) . between completely heterogeneous beings. like multiplicities of black holes which do not let themselves be agglomerated . the suffocation. representatives. nothing goes through there. 'Yithout memory.this is producing a rhizome and not a root. which break the lines even if they resume elsewhere. imperceptible ruptures. The worst thing about schools is not merely the sterilization of disciples ( they have richly deserved it) . which resist the binary machine . There are lines which do not amount to the path of a point. of all that happened before or at the same time . animal-becoming which is neither beast nor man. which break free from structure .as 'Symbolism' suffocated the extraordinarily rich poetic movement of the late nineteenth century.woman-becoming which is neither man nor woman. Thinking in things. What is the situation today? For a long time literature and even the arts have been organized into 'schools' . which do not proceed by differentiation. . The rhizome is all this. And yet. where the interest has moved and no longer relates to books but to newspaper articles. in so far as thoughts are things themselves. it is rather the crushing. Today schools are no longer fee­ paying. impudent political volte-faces.

' Creative functions are com­ ple t el y different. the radio. . Is this the death of the book as McLuhan predicted? There is a very complex phenomenon here: the cinema above all. at the limit. At the same time as journalism has increasingly created the events about which it speaks. the TV. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 27 broadcasts. getting recognized and icl l'n tifi ed in an order of dominant meanings or established po w ers : ' I in my capacity as . it has been reconstituted at the periphery. . the TV. colloquia. have themselves been powerful elements which have brought the author-function into question and have released creative functions .the creative or productive functions freed of t h i s always reappearing author-function . But as wri ting taught itself to detach i tself from the author-function. and even in the cinema ( the cinima d 'auteur). journalists of themselves. doesn't even need to exist. So that the problem consists in reinventing . debates. the radio and the TV. Hence the possibility of marketing which is today replacing the old-fashioned schools. The relationships of force between press and book have changed completely and writers or intellectuals have passed into the service of journalists. which proceed by intersections. crossings of . forming a subject of enunciation on which all the p ro d uccd utterances depend. For the dis­ ad v a n tages of the Author are constituting a point of departure o r of or igin. and even for jou rnalism . round tables about a doubtful book which . clown's tricks that the radios and TVs make the consenting writers undergo. and presenters: the journalization of the writer. regaining credit on the radio. the journalist has discovered himself to be an author and has given reality back to a function which had fallen into discredit. They have become the servants of interviewers. Andre Scala has anlysed this new situation very well. in the newspapers. nonconformist usages of the rhizome and not t h {' t r ee type. or become their own journalists. but also to a certain extent the newspapers. but also for the cinema.which no longer pass through an Author.not simply for w r i t i ng. debaters.at least potentially .

of speaking in the name of victims. There could be a charter for intellectuals. of course. but of producing a living line. Above all it's not a question of speaking for the unhappy. and those who dream of something else . for each domain is already made up of such encounters in itself. in which they would speak of their refusal to be domesticated by newspapers. their echoes. points of encounter in the middle: there is no subject. with their relays. in the m iddle of something. there are no specificities but instead populations. their broadcasts and their moods ( the shame of today ) . the old schools and the new marketing do not exhaust our possibilities. what matters on a line. music-wntmg­ sciences-audio-:visual. radios. however small it is . of the tortured and the oppressed. What matters on a path. or el se the intellectual as executive. a painter is caused to j ump by a percussion: these are not encounters between domains. intermezzi . everything that is alive happens elsewhere and is produced elsewhere. placing their narcissistic films. What a musician does in one place will be useful to a writer somewhere else. as sources of creation. and not the talk or the pre­ formed debate of specialists amongst themselves. artists. a scientist makes com­ pletely different regimes move. their working interactions. is always t h e m i ddl e. but instead collective assemblages of enunciation. to form schools or engage in marketing. T he two dangers are the intellectual as master or disciple. middle or senior executive. their interviews.28 Dialogues lines. not even an interdisciplinarity which would be ordered in a common pro­ ject. The boring thing abo u t q u es tions a nd answers.at least in the intellectual world.they don't dream. The advantage would be . We are always in the m iddle of a p ath. There are only intermezzos. about con- . that happens by itself. not the beginning or the end . writers. This is what a conversation is. TVs.of separating those who want to be 'authors'. a broken line. about interviews. Oh. even if this means forming production groups and imposing connections between the creative functions and the dumb functions of those who don't have the means or the right to speak.

not even present. t"Ve n if th i s means creating new elements and new relations of this simplification . by reducing. where something more is always added which will spoil every­ thing ( English elegance against I talian overdressedness) . I t is obviously the opposite of evolution. this was not always by evolving. is that usually it's a matter of taking stock: the past and the present. to reach this s obriety . by simplifying. returning · to a childhood or to a primitive world. this simplicity which is neither the end nor the begin ning of something. It is also true of writing. To involute is to be ' between'. in the . a matter of involuting. more and more simple. economical. Why is there such an elegance in certain anorexics? It is also true of life. In becoming it is. which is perhaps that of the anorexic. the o p pos i te of the overdose. evolution. more and more deserted and for that very reason populated . To involute is to have an increasingly simple. Becoming does not happen in that way. This is what's difficult to explain: to what extent one should involute. by developing themselves. restrained step. sometimes on the basis of a preformation in the seed . But the embryo. This is why it is even and always possible to say of an author that his first work already contains the whole. It is also true for clothes: elegance as the opposite of the overdressed where too much is put on. there is no history. by abandoning. nor by regressing as in the case of prematuration. rather. I n every case it is the theme of the embryo which evolves. 1 2 Experimentation is involutive. but i t is also the opposite of regression. the present and the future. but by losing. To become is to be­ come more and more restrained. I n becoming there i s n o past nor future . are not good things. even of the most animal kind : if the animals invented their forms and their functions. which always adds something more. it's neither regression nor progression . or on the contrary that he is ceaselessly renewing himself. against regressive cooking which re­ turns to primary elements. It is also true of cooking: against evolutive cooking. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 29 versations. there is involutive cooking. sometimes on the basis of successive structurations. transforming himself.

who are the least 'author-like' of writers. grass and path in one another. the cabbage is useful.30 Dialogues middle. That's it. becoming-bison. adjacent. It is the path itself. because they were able in their novels to make writing an act of thought and life a non-personal power. On the contrary. as life: ' I spread myself out like fog BETWEEN the people that I know the best' says Virginia Woolf in her walk among the taxis. Whatever grows from t �e middle is endowed with such a speed . Henry M iller: 'Grass only exists between the great non-cultivated spaces. even if in his turn . it is a lesson in morali ty. etc. If not it would no longer be a path. But the weed overflows by virtue of being restrained . I t fills in the voids. but the relative and absolute speed of . as politics. that the path has no beginning or end. the poppy makes you crazy. or weed . it is not a centrism or a form of moderation. a rhizome. it only exists as path in the middle. I f one has to hide. that someone else could take in the middle. We must distinguish not relative and absolute movement. nor as a precaution . that is. because it cannot do otherwise. Perhaps this is the reason that they hardly have such a thing as philosophy as a specialized institution and don't have any need for it. that of the grass and of the rhizome. always in the middle of a path. The English and the Americans. The middle has nothing to do with an average. Then there would really be a path between the two. if one always has to put on a mask. The flower is beautiful. The dream would be that you are Felix's mask and Fel ix is yours. Beckett's characters are in perpetual in­ volution.among the other things. it's a matter of absolute speed . It grows between . But the grass is overflowing. already en route.it is because of a secret of a higher nature. as experimentation. It grows between. that it is in its nature to keep its beginning and end hidden. trees. develop according to their genetic preformation or their structural reorganizations. Embryos. this is not because of a taste for the secret which would be a little personal secret.' 1 3 The walk as act. have two particularly sharp directions which connect: that of the road and of the path.

but not a very slow movement or even an immobility. ' You and Fel i x . The relative is the speed of one movement considered from the point of view of another. sends i t into space. woman-becoming. But the absolute is the speed of movement between the two. But States will always have a lot of difficulty with their armies. The problem of an absolute speed of thought: there are some strange statements by Epicurus on this theme. Absolute speed is the speed of nomads. ' Kleist: 'The Amazons arrive and the Greeks and ' the Trojans. without pretext. A difference of intensity produces a phenomenon. The nomads have neither past nor future. they overthrow both on the line of flight . Absolute speed can measure a rapid movement. The steppe. Isn't this what Nietzsche does with an aphorism? Thought should be thrown like a stone by a war-machine. . Nietzsche: 'They come like destiny. Which implies that the States don't have one. . A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 31 any movement . along the whole length of their passage. which trace's a line of flight. each believe that they come as allies but t hey pass between the two and. horse-becoming: their extraordinary animalist art. they have only becom­ ings. however. It was an immensely important task for States to try to appropriate the war-machine by making it into a military i n s t i t u tion or an army. you produce the hypothesis that the nomads invented t h e war-machine.rather it happens between two levels as in a difference of potential . Movement does not go from one point to another . without cause. . in order to turn it against the nomads. Nomads have no history.' Kafka: ' I t is impossible to understand how they have got as far as the capital. even when they move about slowly. and that the power of the state was founded on something <.'lse. it is between the great forests and the great empires. in the middle of the two. they only have geography. the grass and the nomads are the same thing. releases or ejects it. the two elements of States. like a movement on the spot. they are there and each morning seem to increase their number. without reason. The steppe always grows from the middle. Nomads are always in the middle. without consideration. animal-becoming.

It doesn't mean the first in the race: you can be late through speed . is not to age precociously.32 Dialogues And the war-machine is not primarily a component of the State apparatus. or Paul Morand whom Celine admired ( ' H e has j azzed up the French language' ) . Now. a zigzag which glides ' between' . And what Nietzsche did with G erman t h a t ' s w h a t i t's like to be a foreigner in one's - .is speed . a geography and all these becomings or these paths which criss-cross a steppe. a war-machine. it would be that patience which really allows the grasping of all the speeds which pass.charm or style . slightly paranoid . line of flight. to their despotism. Whether . To make thought a nomadic power is not necessarily to move. queue [ligne d 'attente] . Children go fast because they know how to glide in between . To be an abstract and broken line. green and red lights. on the contrary. Ageing quick. One must be like a taxi. that is an ageing-quick which is opposed to the ordinary impatience of old people. Epicurus. i t ' s C e l i n e . the idol or image which weighs down thought. This original organization implies relationships with women. What you mis­ named style j ust now . but it is to shake the model of the state apparatus. the nasty phrase 'life is too short' ) . traffic jam. Fanny im­ agines the same thing of old age: there is also an old-becoming which defines successful old ages. Spinoza and Nietzsche as nomad thinkers. hundreds. Writing ought to prod uce s p eed This doesn't mean writing rapidly. Speed is to be caught in a becom­ ing . according to Fanny. to their evening-anxiety (cf. or Miller: there are aston i s h i ng prod u ctions of speed . plants. i t is exactly the same for wri ting. animals and metals which are very different from those which are codified in a State. This question of speed is important and also very complex. It doesn't mean changing either: you can be invariable and constant through speed . The grass and speed. brushes with the police. bottleneck. The nomads invented a whole n umerical organization which can be found in armies (dozens. the monster squatting on it. To give thought an absolute speed.which is not a development or an evolution . etc. ) .

which is not an effect but a product. The speed of music. I t's nothing but becomings without future or past. The tom-tom is not I . all the intensities. 3. 1 0. 2. all the intervals. A work of art must at least mark the seconds. bourgeois or proletarian? But what are you doing if not pro- . child-becoming. 2 . it is infinitely more detailed. It's never I .how they are made up. M usic is an anti-memory . Steve Reich wants everything to be perceived in act in music. You say that binary mac hines are apparatuses of power to break up becomings: y o u are man or woman. but because it makes us perceive all the differential speeds. it is not 1 . When Fred Astaire dances the waltz. with a becoming. But there's another difficulty. which makes us perceive everything at the same time. molecular-becoming. where the transcendent principle which determines and structures it never appears directly on i ts own account. 1 4 or 28 primary times as in Turkish music. 2. or I . We rediscover this question of speeds and slownesses . 2. I t is exactly the opposite of development. wants the process to be completely understood: therefore this music is the slowest. Is it by chance that music only knows lines and not points? I t i s not possible t o produce a point in music. can be characteristic of slowness or even of immobility. You and Felix ( Felix is more rapid than y o u ) . and above all how they proceed to very special indi­ vid uations. A conversation is not made easy if you refrain from taking s tock and don't allow yourself recollections. I t's like the fixed plane: a way of m aking us perceive all that there is in the image. they are not seized by a rhythm demon. all the times. they hear and perform all the notes. in perceptible relation with a process. When Blacks dance. thinker or 'liver' . even the most slow. I t is full o f becomings: animal-becoming. all the tones. I m­ manence. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 33 own language. you constantly attack dualisms. it's 7. how they produce individuations without a 'sub­ ject' . white or black. 3. It is in wri ting which is worked over most slowly that you reach this absolute speed . Absolute speed. all the pitches.

But the cult of language. we must pass through dualisms. and which will define a minority usage of language. the line against the point. rhizome or grass against the trees. AND. an in­ herent variation as Labov says. but to trace a vocal or written line which will make language flow between these dualisms. is worse than the old ontology from which it has taken over. since the elements of any set whatever can be related to a succession of choices which are themselves binary. invent stammering. nominal syntagm-verbal syntagm . Language is first. but which constitutes . I n the second place. The I.34 Dialogues posing other dualisms? Acts of thought without image against the image of thought. I t is not the elements or the sets which define the multiplicity . geography against history. We can always add a 3rd to 2. Linguistics only finds in language what is already there: the arborescent system of hierarchy and command . we do not escape dualism in this way. a 4th to 3. I t m ust not be said that language deforms a reality which is pre-existing or of another nature. linguistics itself. the YOU . binary calculations : masculine-feminine. the HE. What de­ fines it is the AND. Perhaps it's necessary to say that language is profoundly wrought by dualisms and dichotomies. is very much a part of language. We must speak like everyone else. or even 1 -2-3 . which is neither the one nor the other. the war-machine against the state apparatus. it is probable that a multiplicity is not defined by the number of its terms. complex multiplicities against unifications and totalizations. nor the one which becomes the other. etc. singular-plural. AND -stammering. And even if there are only two terms. the force of forgetting against memory. not in order to get back to a prelinguistic pseudo-reality. We must pass through [passer par] dualisms because they are in language.. 1 -2. AND. there is an AND between the two. it's not a question of getting rid of them. etc. it has invented the dualism. divisions by 2. the setting-up of language. as something which has i ts place between the elements or between the sets . but we must fight against language.

AND you. . there would no longer be any reason to sign each part. AND all those of whom we speak. the narrow stream which belongs neither to the one nor to the other. into a heterochronous becoming. and the AND Felix. Thus we could proceed like this: each chapter would remain divided in two. AND Fanny. since it is between the two anonymous parts that the conversation would take place. C. At least this does not belong to the dialectic. by tracing the line of flight which passes between the two terms or the two sets. A Conversation: What is it? What is it for? 35 the multiplicity.P. This is why it is always possible to undo dualisms from the inside. would appear as so many distorted images in running water. but draws both into a non-parallel evolution. AND me.

or else that it is something rather sloppy because we avoid our comm itments and responsibilities. They create a new Earth. 2 On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature I To leave. Miller. these characters who create their line of flight. relationship with the outside. Kerouac. . but to put something to flight. .not necessarily others. . But to flee is not to renounce action: nothing is more active than a flight. old weapons go rotten: make some new ones and shoot accurqtely . Stevenson. is to trace a line. becoming. broken flight. to escape . ' The line of fl ight is a deterritorialization . The French do not understand this very well. to escape. is 'To leave. Anglo-American literature constantly shows these ruptures. Thomas Hardy. Melville. but throughout my flight. The highest aim of literature. I am searching for a weapon . who create through a line of flight. passage. daemon. ' And Lawrence again : 'I tell you. Lawrence. to put a system to flight as one bursts a tube. Obviously. enter into another life . but they think that fleeing means making an exit from the world. to leave. a whole cartography. . In them everything is departure. Fitzgerald. ' To fly is to trace a line. they flee like everyone else. mysticism or art. leap. to cross the horizon . but perhaps the . I t is thus that Melville finds himself in the m iddle of the Pacific. Thomas Wolfe. lines. One only discovers worlds through a long. He has really crossed the line of the horizon. Virginia Woolf. George Jackson wrote from prison: ' I t may be that I am fleeing. I t is the opposite of the imaginary. according to Lawrence. I t is also to put to flight .

t ho se who cling on to the steppe. to go beyond . to follow a channel . geographical sense are neither migrants nor travellers. or even to move. They do not know how to pierce or plane down the wall .where they are content to transport their own 'egos' . trees. Secondly. their wanderings and renunciations. They are too fond of roots. of calling them to account. the latter with their movement of deterritorialization.too historical. because flights can happen on the spot. They do not know how to become. but the French invent the bourgeois apparatus of power capable of blocking them. On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 37 rnovement of the earth is deterritorialization itself. American l i te rature operates according to geographical lines: the flight co wards the West. who are immobile with big . those who do not move. Look at structuralism: it is a system of points and positions. too concerned with the future and the past. their betrayals passing by at breakneck speed? They unleash the flood of capitalism. of marriages. There is no equivalent in France. they think in terms of historical past and future. To flee is not exactly to travel. cultural and organized . The French are too human. too historical. the properties. to push back. the fine @xtract in which the kings of France are contrasted with the kings of England: the former with their politics of land. I t warps the lines of flight instead o f following them and tracing them and extending them in a social field . of inheritance. which operates by cuts which are supposedly significant instead of proceeding by thrusts and crackings. but. of lawsuits. They do not know how to trace lines. on the contrary. the points of arborescence. 1 The becoming is geographical. the sense of the frontiers as something to cross. they think about a 'future of the revol ution' rather than a revolutionary-becoming. Even with the revolution. the survey. They spend their time in in-depth analysis. First because there are travels in the style of the French . of ruses and cheating. in motionless travel . Toynbee shows that nom ads in the strict. the discovery that the true East is in the \\'est. Is it in Michelet.

This is a big word and is no parallel to a jail-break when one is probably headed for a new jail or will be forced back to the old one. . And once he has escaped. the flight still remains an ambiguous operation. Lawrence's disillusion. When Lawrence takes up cudgels against Melville. our psychoanalyses and our mummies and daddies? How can one avoid the line of flight's becoming identical with a pure and simple movement of self-destruction. In fleeing everything. how can we avoid reconstituting both our country of origin and our formations of power. we redis­ cover fascist coagulations on the line of flight. There is always a way of reterritorializing oneself in the voyage: it is always one's father or mother (or worse) that one finds again on the voyage. will we not rediscover all the Oedipal structures on the line of flight? In fleeing fascism. the greatest inventors of new weapons. who have neither past nor future. he criticizes him for having taken the voyage too seriously . The famo � s "escape" or "run away from it all" is an excursion into a trap even if the trap includes the South Seas. ' 3 Fitzgerald puts it even better: 'This led me to the idea that the ones who had survived had made some sort of clean break. that is irretrievable because it makes the past cease to exist. following a line of flight on the spot. Kerouac's . What is it which tells us that. '4 But even when a distinction is drawn between the flight and the voyage.38 Dialogues strides. A clean break is something you cannot come back from. geography is no less mental and cor­ poreal than physical in movement. Maps are maps of intensities. Home and Mother being at the other end of a whaling voyage. but such a return is a regression. The voyage turns out to be a return to the savage. we will not rediscover everything we were fleeing? In fleeing the eternal mother-father. our intoxicants. 2 But history has never begun to understand nomads. . Fitzgerald's alcoholism. 'Going back to the savages made Melville sicker than anything . Virginia Woolrs suicide. immediately he begins to sigh and pine for the " Paradise". on a line of flight. which are only for those who want to paint them or sail them .

The English zero is always in the middle. a ' particular nervous syst�m' of grass. is to take up the interrupted l ine. not a tree: what thinking signifies is what the brain is. A true break may be extended in time. but also against itself. it must constantly be protected not merely against i ts false imitations. What is interesting is the middle. it is something different from an over-significant cut. the roots and the pinnacle. the patience and precautions which must go into avoiding them. On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 39 sad e n d ? English and American literature is thoroughly im­ bu ed with a sombre process of demolition. One begins again through the middle. always the point of anchor. Not only does grass grow in the middle of things. The French think i n terms of trees too much: the tree of knowledge. This is why it j umps from one writer to another like something which must be begun again . We have grass in the head . they are collections of intensive . the corrections which must constantly be made to extract the line from the quicksands and the black holes. A happy death? But it is this that can only be understood on the line. French beginning again is the tabula rasa. Prediction is not possible. the search for a primary certainty as a point of origin. or over the top of the void . It is never the beginning or the end which are interesting. This is the English or American problem. Being in the middle of a line is the most uncomfortable posi­ tion . 5 Take as an example the case of Thomas Hardy: his charac­ ters are not people or subjects. Bottlenecks are always in the middle. where it had stopped. The English and the Americans do not have the same way of beginning again as the French. at the same time as it is being traced : the dangers which are courted. Grass has i ts line of flight. Trees are the opposite of grass. on the other hand. points of arborescence . and does not take root. and against the reterritorializations which lie in wait for it. the beginning and end are points. but it grows itse J f through the middle. The other way of beginning again. to join a segment to the broken line. the alpha and omega. which carries off the writer. to make it pass between two rocks in a narrow gorge.

There is a strange respect for the indi­ vidual. these collections or combinations.is traced . but betrayal like that of a simple man who no longer has any past or future. run along the lines of chance. We betray the fixed powers which try to hold us back. What demons do is jump across intervals. because gods have fixed attributes. a packet. run over the heath like a line of flight or a line of deterritorialization of the earth. boundaries and surveys. the deterritorialization of man . packets of sensations.if need be.40 Dialogues sensations.to say absurd things. The movement of betrayal has been defined as a double turning-away: man turns his face away from God. And these packets of sensations in the raw. each is such a collection. in the French way. an extraordinary respect: not because he would seize upon himself as a person and be recognized as a person. Not trickery like that of an orderly man ordering his future. I ndividuation without a subject. with his long wanderings. to murder. But Oedipus is the only Semitic tragedy of the Greeks. or mischance. who also turns his face away from man. properties and functions. has been taken as the prime example of a double turning-away. Betrayal is like theft. • A flight is a sort of delirium. their bad encounters which lead to death. God who . Oedipus at Colonnus. etc. but on the contrary because he saw himself and saw others as so many 'unique chances' . a bloc of variable sensations. I nd ividuals. There is always betrayal in a line of flight. 'Which demon has leapt the longest leap?' asks Oedipus. territories and codes: they have to do with rails. in the divergence of faces.that is. Hardy invokes a sort of Greek destiny for this empiricist experimental world. and from one interval to another. Demons are different from gods. There is something demonaical or demonic in a line �f flight. that the line of flight .the unique chance from which one combination or another had been drawn. 6 To be delirious [dilirer] is exactly to go off the rails (as in diconner . where their en­ counters take place . ) . the established powers of the earth. It is in this double turning-away. it is always double.

The Old Testament is con­ stantly criss-crossed by these lines of flight. and the power of treason: to be the only traitor. The trickster has plenty of future. A traitor to the world of dominant significations. and it is as such that the English understand it. Let the merman turn away from his human wife and children . the con­ quest of the unknown. as against the plagiarisms of the trickster. but the man of war (not a marshal or a general) is a traitor. the great expedi tions. On the Superiority of Anglo-American literature 41 t u rns away from man who turns away from God i s the p rimary theme of the Old Testament. he has taken misfortune upon himself. The traitor is the essential character of the novel. and traitor to all ­ Aguirre. Shakespeare put on the stage many trickster­ kings. A traitor. including the woman-becoming of Columbus. . but the first novel. or a tragedy. Cain's l ine of flight. cross the seas. and to the established order. ' 7 The 'great discoveries'. the hero. the line of separ­ ation between the earth and the waters . Wrath of God. The sta tesman or the courtier is a trickster. urges the heart. ' Let the elements stop kissing. do not merely involve uncertainty as to what will be discovered. This is quite different from the trickster: for the trickster claims to take possession of fixed properties. They have no special relationship with the Old Testament. as Jacques Besse describes him in an extraordinary tale. Leave love and home. as the foundation of the novel. The priest. and our novelists are often tricksters themselves. who came to the throne by trickery. but the experimenter is a traitor. and who in the last . It is the story of Cain. Christopher Columbus. but no becoming whatsoever. The French novel gives us many tricksters. but the invention of a line of flight. The Old Testament is not an epic. It is the story of Jonah : the prophet is recognizable by the fact that he takes the opposite path to that which is ordered by God and thereby realizes God's com­ mandment better than if he had obeyed. Cross the seas. or to conquer a territory. and turn their backs on one another. or even to introduce a new order. . 8 The creative theft of the traitor. the soothsayer. is a trickster.

. according to which all whales are fit to. which is identical neither with health nor illness: the function of the Anomalous. instead of obeying the law of the group of fishermen. the white whale. already consenting and fascinated.this choice of object which engages him in a whale-becoming himself. The same theme appears in Kleist's Penthesilea: the sin of Pen thesilea. This is also the 'outsider': 9 0 Moby Dick. He does not want the conquest of the state. Of what is Captain Ahab in Melville guilty? Of having chosen Moby Dick. terror. his relationship with Leviathan . Likewise Lenz or Buchner. shows the two faces which are turning away. and Anne. and betray all simultaneously? The dialogue with Lady Anne. For Richard I I I does not simply want power. who did not recognize him as one of them : in his long excursions on horseback. despite the German order. Not because it is a choice of object . his treason. but the assemblage of a war-machine: how can he be the only traitor. ( Kleist appalled the Germans. has a pre­ sentiment of the tortuous line which Richard is tracing.a poor notion . he wan ts treason. to have chosen Achilles while the law of the Amazons ordains that they should not choose the enemy: Penthesilea's demonic element leads her into a dog-becoming. all the anti-Goethes. The Anomalous is always at the frontier.but because i t i s a becoming. or the Thing or Entity of Lovecraft. which cri tics have j udged to be 'improbable and exaggerated ' . I n that lies Ahab's demonic element. it is part of the latter. it is t h e demonic element par excellence. but is already making it pass into another multiplicity.42 Dialogues analysis turn out to be good kings. on the border of a band or a multiplicity. ) We must define a special function. hunt. I n his choice of Anne there is a woman-becoming i n Richard I l l . it traces a line-between. it makes it become. knew how to trace a dazzling line of flight across forests and states. But when he encounters Richard I I I he rises to the height of the most novelistic of traged ies . Kleist was one of the authors who. And nothing reveals treason better than the choice of object.

which are also its way of advancing and attacking. or of posterity ( ' I will be understood in two years. The becomings con­ tained in wri ting when it is not wedded to established order-words. in the sense that they would be taken as object. I ndian-becomings which do not consist in speaking American I ndian or 'pidgin French' .' etc. Lawrence and Miller are considered to be great sexists: writing. A writer by profession can j udge himsel f in the light of his past or his future. Virginia Woolf forbade herself ' to speak lik e a woman ' : she harnessed the woman-becoming of writing all the more for this. however. ) . That is to become something else. On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 43 I t is possible that writing has an in trinsic relationship with l i nes of flight. draws us in there. in the light of his personal future. There is a woman-becoming in writing. drew them into an irresistible woman-becoming. that England has prod uced so many women novelists. although it is imbued with a . about whom no one writes either. on the contrary. when it is not official. because i n reality wri ting involves us there. A minority never exists ready-made. Woman is not necessarily the writer. in 'playing' the animal. There are animal-becomings in writing which do not consist in imitating t h e ani mal. from the fact that one is writing. necessarily comes into contact with 'minorities' who do not necessarily write on their own account. where women have to make as much effort as men. any more than Mozart's rn u sic imitates birds. and which one is indeed forced to follow. Madame Bovary. but itself traces lines of flight are quite different. in which one is caught up willy-nilly. c 'est moi is the sentence of a hysterical trickster. It is only through this becoming. Even women do not always succeed when they force themselves to write like women. but. but the minority-becoming of her writing. it is only formed on lines of flight. in a hundred years. whether it be man or woman . To write is to become . To write is to trace lines of flight which are not i maginary. You might say that writing by itself. There are Negro­ brcomings in writing. as a function of a future of woman . but has nothing to do with becoming a writer.

draws it on to its line of flight in a combined deterritorialization. and it does not undertake to wri te for this minority. which is i ts own becoming. to one's majority? And to be traitor to writing. There is no assemblage which functions on a single flux. they believe that they are. because he senses that it is in him that the animal's soul bares its teeth. Hofmannsthal (who then adopts an English pseudonym ) can no longer write when he sees the agony of a mob of rats. Captain Ahab has a whale-becoming which is not one of imitation . What trickster has not said to himself: 'Oh. to one's class. A fine English film. The writer is imbued to the core with a non­ writer-becoming. who clutched at humanity at every chance but nevertheless found himself drawn into this fatal coupling. That there are so many writers' silences and suicides must be explained by these n uptials against nature. Lawrence has the tortoise-becoming. in its place or at its bidding. Willard. but the latter give writing a becoming without which it would not exist.44 Dialogues bird-becoming. showed the irresistible rat-becoming of the hero. without which it would be pure redundancy in the service of the powers that be. This is not a matter of imitation. Writing always combines with something else. But they are j ust petty tricksters. Take the pathetic case of Maurice Sachs. They believe in it. in French literature. Many people dream of being traitors. traitor to one's sex. this would no longer even be true today: it means that writing always encounters a minority which does not write. What other reason is there for writing than to be traitor to one's own reign. but of conjunction. There are animal-becomings in literature which do not consist in talking of one's dog or cat. That the writer is minoritarian does not mean that there are fewer people who write than read . a short-circuit. at last I am a real . the picking-up of a code where each is deterritorialized . I t i s rather a n encounter between two reigns. In writing one always gives writing to those who do not have it. but there is an encounter in which each pushes the other. in his admirable poems. these collaborations against nature.

as are very few people. our desire to make them known. Oh no. we are always sunk in the hole of our subjectivity. to become Negro or woman) . identify us and make us recognized. the acquisition of a clandestinity (even if one has to become animal. not the voyage into the South Seas. even by one's landlady or in one's neighbourhood. To be unknown at last. a hole where we deposit . I was nothing but a trickster. in it. with the black hole of the eyes. ' There is a whole social system which might be called the white wall/black hole system. the finality of writing? Still way beyond a woman­ becoming. At the end of Tmdtr is tkt Night. I t is very difficult not to be known at all. Our societies need to produce the face. A wall on which are inscribed all the objective determinations which fi x us. This is what Fitzgerald called a true break: the line of flight. there is the final enterprise of the becoming-imperceptible. . to become unknown. recognized . it is a social production : a broad face with white cheeks.together with our consciousness - our feelings. common charac­ teristic of the greatest speed and the greatest slowness. the black hole of our Ego which is more dear to us than anything. One has to disappear. That text of Fitzgerald's which is so fine. The aim. to j ump over or pierce through the wall. Writing has no other end than to lose one's face.. beyond a minority-becoming. . ' For it is difficult to be a traitor. One has to lose one's identity. Miller's problem (like Lawrence's) : how to unmake the face. is to betray. a Negro-becoming. etc. to plane down the wall very patiently. one ' s face. Christ invented the face. . Tkt Crack. We are always pinned against the wall of dominant significations. The imperceptible. Even if the face is a product of this system.Up. the hero literally dissipates himself geographically. the nameless singer. an animal-becoming. ' But what traitor does not say to himself at the day's end : 'After all. put us into a grille. our passions. says: 'I felt like the men whom I used to see in the suburban trains of Great Neck fifteen years before . it is to create. On tkt Superioriry of Anglo-American Literature 45 traitor. a writer cannot wish to be 'known' . our little secrets which are all too wel l known. the ritomello.

It travels along the line of the horizon. my eyes. or being crushed? How to get out of the black hole instead of whirling round in its depths. a world of futurity. . this selfless eye neither reveals nor illuminates . on which the craze for interpretation feeds. it is we who are hidden. We remember Oedipus' dirty little secret. even though we do all openly. which he saw as running through all French literature. A secret everywhere. no more to be said . ' 1 We have painted ourselves in the colours of the world. not the Oedipus of Colonnus. make us think of some­ thing else. Lawrence condemned the craze for 'the dirty little secret' . The great secret is when you no longer have anything to hide. I shall probably exist as a park . which particles to get out of the black hole? How to shatter even our love in order to become finally capable of loving? How to become imperceptible? I no longer look into the eyes of the woman I hold in my arms. . uninformed voyager . . This is the opposite of the romanticism of the • 'damned'. and here there is no logic whatever . and I see that behind the sockets of the eyes there is a region unexplored. identical to the great living secret. Therefore I close my ears. a ceaseless. but I swim through. moving with an ever greater rapidity . The characters and the authors always have a little secret. and thus when no one can grasp you . Something must always remind us of something else. who has become imperceptible. my mouth. in broad daylight. . on his line of flight. 1 0 There we no longer have any secrets. . . I have broken the wall created by birth and the line of voyage is round and un­ broken . behind. My whole body must become a constant beam of light. . we no longer have anything to hide. Before I shall become quite man again. things have not . . . . Since the 'signifier' has been invented.46 Dialogues by liberating in ourselves the questing heads which trace the lines of becoming? How to get past the wall while avoiding bouncing back on it. I t is we who have become a secret. head and arms and legs.

You see many people today one after another proclaiming 'Long live castration. Let there just be fluxes. 'The world of phantasms is a world of the past'. A man and a woman are fluxes. and the interpretation of one by the other. Become capable of loving without re­ mem bering. freeze or overflow. or in two. a priest beneath. life-experimentation. the pair of despot and priest. the n sexes in a single one. which has no other object than to get itself recognized. The little secret is generally reducible to a sad narcissistic and pious masturbation : the phantasm! 'Transgression'. On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 47 falle n i n to place. without phantasm and without interpretation. It is impossible to overemphasize the harm that the phantasm has done to writing (it has even invaded the cinema) in sustaining the signifier. the Origi n and the End of desire!' What is in the middle is forgotten. the tricksters. to bounce us off the very white wall. All the becomings which there are in making love. to put us back into a very black hole. s i n ce one no longer has either future or past. of one with the other. New races of priests are always being invented for the dirty little secret. a theatre of resentment and guilt. an eye above. which sometimes com­ bine or diverge. Lose your face. Georges Bataille is a very French author. The signifier is always the little secret which has never stopped hanging around mummy and daddy. and interpreting i tself. 'See me as I am' : . discreet. which have nothing to do with castration . all the sexes. Your secret can always be seen on your face and in your eyes . Signifiance and interpretosis are the two diseases of the earth. it has set about interpreting us. I nstead of language being interpreted by us. for it is the home. He made the little secret the essence of literature. a concept too good for seminarists under the law of a Pope or a priest. We blackmail ourselves. we make ourselves out to be mysterious.' The thorn in the flesh. On lines of flight there can no longer be but one t hi n g . which sometimes dry up. without taking stock. we move with the air of saying 'See how I am weighed down by a secret. with a mother within. One never knows in advance.

Experiment. thanks to her 'prodi­ gious art of i nterpretation' (evaluating the senders. is that each time the interpretations are dismantled and the famous signifier is eliminated. Henry James. organs reversed . But from fragment to fragment is constructed a living experiment in which interpre­ tation begins to crumble. water are grasped in their particles at the same time as their flux combines with mine. like banks which are disposed or canals which are arranged in order that a flux may flow. invents a post-office girl. betrayed in the process of being hollowed out. There are now only voyages of exploration in which one always finds in the West that which one had thought to be in the East. in which there is no longer . sound. A whole world of micro-perceptions which lead us to the im­ perceptible. what is called programme music) .still less are they phantasms. . the anonymous or coded telegrams) . precise. Other becomings will link up here. No longer is there the infinite account of interpretations which are always slightly disgusting. never make phantasms. molecular­ becomings in which the air. but means ofproviding reference points for an experiment which exceeds our capacities to foresee (likewise. Kleist and Kafka spent their time making programmes for life. which at the start she dominates. . The strength of Castaneda's books. the dog I saw and ran along with under the effect of Jhe drug was not my whore of a mother . who is one of those to have penetrated most deeply the woman-becoming of writing. protocols of experience. Every line in which someone gets carried away is a line of restraint in comparison with the laborious. but only programmes of life. Programmes are not manifestos . This is a procedure of animal-becoming which does not try to say any­ thing other than what he becomes. never interpret. controlled trash of French writers. and makes me become with him. M ake programmes.48 Dialogues all that stuff is over. but fin­ ished processes of experimentation. a heroine caught in a telegraphic flux. There is no longer a phantasm. i n his programmed experiment with drugs. always modified in the process of coming into being. No.

You should hear qualified critics talking of Kleist's failures. Lawrence's impotence. . in ideologies. their motherland . which is all the more spiritual in the work to be created . On the contrary. to flee is to produce the real. which always refers back to a writing of writing. and the little imaginary Signified. in narcissistic tribunals. Carroll 's little girls. critical of life rather than . 'She had ended u p knowing so much about it that she could no longer inter­ pret. Writers have their own filthy hovel in life. All has been crushed in advance. The great and only error lites in thinking that a line of flight consists in fleeing from life. to create life. secret or divination. Kafka's childishness. the phantasm as suggested expedient of life. which animates the great Signifier as proposed fi n ality of the work. This is why French literature abounds in manifestos. It is always done with the best intentions: the work will appear all the greater the more pitiful the life is made to seem .' English or American literature is a process of experimentation . in perfecting of perfectings. at the same time as having their land. at the same time as in personal conflicts. They are happy to stink personally. or work in the process of being created. There is thus no risk of seeing the power of life which runs through a work. French literature if often the most shameless eu logy of neurosis. It is the same resentment. Lawrence criticized Fre nch literature for being incurably intellectual . . in theories of writing. and vice versa. or into art. ideological a n d idealist. the same taste for castration. there we �e no longer obscurities which made her see clearly . They have killed interpretation . to find a weapon. whether as total work. the flight into the imaginary. It is unworthy. in neurotic toadying. Generally it is in the same false movement that life is reduced to something personal and that the work is supposed to find its end in itself. since what they write will be all the more sublime and significant. essentially critical. all that was left was a garish light. On the Superioriry of Anglo-American literature 49 p erception or knowledge. The work will be all the more significant for referring to the sly wink and life's little secret.

through which life escapes from the resentment of persons. but that a flux of modern writing combines with a flux of immemorial heath. neither of which imitates the other. but a huge incapacity to love and admire. what he calls his China-becoming. French nationalism in letters: a terrible mania for j udging and being judged runs through that literature: there are too many hysterics among these writers and their characters. and vice versa. In an animal-becoming a man and an animal combine. the transmutation of fluxes. I t may be that the writer has delicate health. A system of relay and mutations through the middle. the heath-line of Thomas Hardy: it is not that the heath is the subject or the content of the novel.50 Dialogues creative of life. The line of flight is creative of these becomi ngs . He is none the less the opposite of the neurotic: a sort of great Alive (in the manner of Spinoza. a pure line traced by an unsupported hand . Nietzsche or Lawrence) in so far as he is only too weak for the life which runs in him or for the affects which pass in him. I n doing this it renounces claim t o any territory. a weak constitution . which deterritorialize it in their turn. To write has no other function: to be a flux which combines with other fluxes . Why-does one write? Because it is not a case of writing. instantaneous and mutant . neither of which resembles the other. any end which would reside in itself.between a creation and a destruction . which passes across ages and reigns. Lines of flight have no territory. Or rather. Kerouac's phrases are as sober as a Japanese drawing. I t is only when a flux is de­ territorialized that it succeeds in making its conjunction with other fluxes. societies and reigns. In reality writing does not have its end in itself. each deterritorializing the other. Hating. pushing the line further. A heath-becoming. Virginia . Or the heath-phrase. A flux is something intensive. or else Miller's grass-becoming.all the minority-becomings of the world. precisely because lift is not something personal. I t would take a true alcoholic to attain that degree of sobriety. the aim of writing is to carry life to the state of a non-personal power. wanting to be loved. Writing carries out the conjunction.

but the assemblage. d id it need Virginia Woolfs anorexia? One only writes through love. affects. Oh. more in­ sinuating than Kerouac's The Underground Ones. but of peoples and tribes. terri tories. One should only write through this death. events. because he has all its necessity. at least between two t<'rms which are not subjects. Utterances do not have as their cause a subject which would act as a subject of enunciation. becom­ i ngs. One should only d ie through love. on the condition that for him wri ting is already another be­ coming. the means to a more than personal life. the real always being put off until tomorrow. and not a tragic death . which brings into play within us and outside us populations. It is always an assemblage which prod uces utterances. both at once. the poverty of the imaginary and the symbolic. or continue to write. Writing. but something which happens . instead of life being a poor secret for a writing which has no end other than itself. He does not ask ' What is writing?' . the idea. The utterance is the prod uct of an assemblage - which is always collective. multiplicities. flo ra and fauna. We know no book of love more important. II The minimum real unit is not the word. any more than they are related to subjects as subjects of ut terance. or stop writing through this love. military operations or typhoons. On the Superiority ef A nglo-American Literature 51 Woolf and her gift of pasing from one reign to another. li mited com panies and prod uction studios. The proper name does not designate a s u l�ject. Proper nam es are not names of persons. The author is a s u bje ct of enunciation but the writer .who is not an author - is not. the concept or the signifier. elements. The writer invents assemblages starting from . collectives. the impossibility of another choice which indeed makes writing. but agents. or comes from another becoming. from one element to another. all writing is a love-letter: the literature-Real.

Neither identification nor distance. on the contrary. to criticize. in all these cases. to be absorbed in the common stream. One must. as subject of enunciation. neither proximity nor remoteness. With deepest sympathy. write with. The only benefit. on the other hand. it is the exertion or the penetration of bodies. he intro­ duces a distance which allows him and us to observe. but a conspiracy. The author. The author creates a world. but agreements of convenience between bodies of all kinds. social. but assemblages are not. The difficult part is making all the elements of a non-homogeneous set converge. to become a fish again and not a freak of nature.52 Dialogues assemblages which have invented him. each time with populations in play. on the line of encounter be. with a part of the world. it is no good except when it is compounded with what it hates. Structures are linked to conditions of homogeneity. he makes one multiplicity pass into another. verbal: they are always bodies or corpora. Sympathy is bodies who love or hate each other. psychic. . sometimes.' 1 :1 It must be said that it is the world itself which lays the two .· tween an internal world and the external world. it is 'sympathy'. Not a talk at all. But this is no good . it is a body. [himself] perfectly useless. one is led to speak for. being in the middle. but there is no world which awaits us to be created. for hatred is also a com­ pound. symbiosis. . Being in the middle: 'The most important thing . biological. 'All the subtle sympathies of the soul without number. . with people. in the place of . speak with. is to make . The assemblage is co­ functioning. I reflected. for. to prolong. or with the idea which they represent. Sympathy is not a vague feeling of respect or of spiritual participation: on the contrary. . Bodies may be physical. With the world. . hatred or love. from the bitterest hatred to the most passionate love. There is no judgement in sympathy. . is first of all a spirit: sometimes he identifies with his characters or makes us identify with them. making them function together.' 1 2 This is assembling. a collision of love or hatred. in these bodies or on these bodies. which the act of writing could offer me was to remove the differences which separated me from my fellow man.

assem bling. . you are not the little Eskimo goi ng by. you only go so far . Making one's hed . and the one which points out to us the observation of the understanding. We arc trying to extract from madn ess the life which it con tains. B u t you may perhaps put yourself in his shoes. We only have sympathy to struggle and to wri te. Becoming is loving without alcohol . ) . This is not true. narcissists. you have something to assemble with him. This is sympathy. being neither simulator of identifications . all identification to hecome capable of loving. No. I hear the objection : with your puny sympathy you make use of lunatics. turn it against itself. We can only assemble among assemblages. alcoholics. . wi thout d rinking: the great scene of drunkenness on pure water in Henry Miller. paranoiacs . drug addicts. pass us the ir poison. the one which offers us the mirror of contamination and identifications. We arc trying to extract from love all possession. it is a bodily struggle. becoming-sober for a life which is richer and richer. One must resist both of the traps. There are many doctors and scholars who offer us a sanitized scientific observation. drugs and madn ess. But sympathy is something to be reckoned with. . hysterics. in imitating or identifying yourself with him or taking the Eskimo upon your­ self. who are also true lunatics. w hile hating the lunatics who constantly kill life. the opposite of making a career. for you can only become Eskimo if the Eskimo himself becomes something else. you sing the praises of madness. hating what threatens and infects life. an Eskimo-becoming which does not consist in playing the Eskimo. yellow and greasy. On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 53 traps of distance and identification for us. their contagion is insidious . you do not need to mistake yourself for him. then you drop them. says Lawrence. . There are many neurotics and lunatics in the world who do not let go of us until they have managed to reduce us to their state. but in assembling something between you and him. loving where it proliferates (no posteri ty or lineage. but a proliferation . Lawrence used to say. The same goes for lunatics. We are trying to extract from alcohol the life w hich it contains.

Certain examples will recur constantly: WASP and ORC H I D. of being a novelist in philosophy. A ritornello? All music. Yes. and about Hume in particular? Because empiricism is like the English novel . let them get out of it as best they can : our very sympathy is that it should be none of our business. the Ego. a simple image. lunatics. madmen. Whenever one believes in a great first principle. neurotics . In fact the first principle is always a mask. no one will come to tuck you in. . or by the social medical officer of distances. . On Empiricism Why write. One might put forward many others. even at the risk of wearying the reader. Each one of us has to make his own way. everything in the understanding comes from the senses. }. but re­ turning to the same example should lead to acceleration. or HORSE and STI RRU P. Too many people want to be tucked in by a huge identifying mother.54 Dialogues nor the frigid doctor of distances . It is a case of philosophizing as a novelist. A rule of these conversations: the longer a paragraph. the more it is suited to being read very quickly. But that is the standpoint of the history of philosophy: they have the gift of stifling all life in seeking and in positing an abstract first principle. one can no longer prod uce anything but huge sterile dualisms. why have written about empiricism. It is the conversation itself which will be a ritornello. You will get into your bed as you made it. But it is not really worth invoking the concrete richness of the sensible if it is only to make it into an abstract principle. the in­ fectious ones. That does not . But being capable of it is sometimes difficult. Empiricism is often defined as a doctrine according to which the intelligible 'comes' from the sensible. Philosophers willingly surrender themselves to this and centre their discussions on what should be the first principle (Being. alcoholics and drug addicts. all writing takes that course. the Sensible? . And the re­ petitions ought to function as accelerations.

On the Superioriry of Anglo-American Literature 55

l'Xist, thi ngs do not start to move and come alive until the level
of the second, third , fourth principle, and these are no longer
even principles. Things do not begin to live except in the
middle. In this respect what is it that the empiricists found,
not in their heads, but in the world, which is like a vital
discovery, a certainty of life which, if one really adheres to it,
changes one's way of life? It is not the question ' Does the
in telligible come from the sensible?' but a quite different
question , that of relations . Relations are external to their terms.
' Peter is smaller than Paul', 'The glass is on the table' : rela­
tion is neither internal to one of the terms which would
consequently be subject, nor to two together. Moreover, a
relation may change without the terms changing. One may
object that the glass is perhaps altered when it is moved off the
table, but that is not true. The ideas of the glass and the table,
which are the true terms of the relations, are not altered.
Relations are in the middle, and exist as such . This exteriority
of relations is not a principle, it is a vital protest against
principles. I ndeed if one sees in it something which runs
through life, but which is repugnant to thought, then thought
must be forced to think it, one must make relations the
hallucination point of thought, an experimentation which
does violence to thought. Empiricists are not theoreticians,
they are experimenters: they never interpret, they have no
principles. If one takes this exteriority of relations as a con­
ducting wire or as a line, one sees a very strange world unfold,
fragment by fragment : a Harlequin's jacket or patchwork,
made u p of solid parts and voids, blocs and ruptures,
attractions and divisions, nuances and bluntnesses, con­
junctions and separations, alternations and interweavings,
additions which never reach a total and subtractions whose
remainder is never fixed . One can see clearly how the pseudo­
first principle of empiricism derives from this, but as a
negative limit, always being pushed back, a mask put on at
the start : in effect if relations are external and irreducible to
thei r terms, then the difference cannot be between the sensible

56 Dialogues

and the intelligible, between experience and thought, between
sensations and ideas, but only between two sorts of ideas, or
two sorts of experiences, that of terms and that of relations.
The famous association of ideas is certainly not reducible to
the platitudes which the history of philosophy has retained
from it. I n Hume there are ideas, and then the relations
between these ideas, relations which may vary without the
ideas varying, and then the circumstances, actions and pas­
sions which make these relations vary . A complete 'Hume­
assemblage', which takes on the most varied figures. In order
to become the owner of an abandoned city, does one have to
touch i ts gate with one's hand, or is it enough to throw one's
javelin from a distance? Why in some cases does what is above
prevail over what is underneath and in other cases the reverse
( the ground prevails over the surface, but painting over the
canvas, etc. ) ? Try your own experiments: each time there is an
assemblage of ideas, relations and circumstances: each time
there is a veritable novel, where the landowner, the thief, the
man with the javelin, the man with bare hands, the labourer,
the painter, take the place of concepts.
This geography of relations is particularly important to the
extent that philosophy, the history of philosophy, is en­
cumbered with the problem of being, IS. They discuss the
j udgement of attribution ( the sky is blue) and the j udgement
of existence (God is) , which presupposes the other. But it is
always the verb to he and the question of the principle. It is
only the English and the Americans who have freed con­
j unctions and reflected on relations. This is because they have
a very special attitude to logic. They do not conceive it as an
ordinary form containing in itself the first principles. They tell
us, on the other hand , that you will either be forcqd to aban­
don logic, or else you will be led to invent one! Logic is j ust
like the main road , it is not at the beginning, neither does it
have an end , one cannot stop. Precisely speaking, it is not
enough to create a logic of relations, to recognize the rights of
the judgement of relation as an autonomous sphere, distinct

On the Superioriry of Anglo-American Literature 57

from judgements of existence and attribution. For nothing as
yet prevents relations as they are detected in conjunctions
( NOW, THUS, etc. ) from remaining subordinate to the verb
to be. The whole of grammar, the whole of the syllogism, is a
way of maintaining the subordination of conj unctions to the
verb to be, of making them gravitate around the verb to be.
One must go further: one must make the encounter with
relations penetrate and corrupt everything, undermine being,
make it topple over. Substitute the AND for I S . A and B. The
AND is not even a specific relation or conjunction, it is that
which subtends all relations, the path of all relations, which
makes relations shoot outside their terms and outside the set
of their terms, and outside everything which could be de­
termined as Being, One, or Whole. The AND as extra-being,
inter-being. Relations might still establish themselves between
their terms, or between two sets, from one to the other, but the
AND gives relations another direction, and puts to flight
terms and sets, the former and the latter on the line of flight
which it actively creates. Thinking with AND, instead of
thinking IS, instead of thinking for I S : empiricism has never
had another secret. Try it, it is a quite extraordinary thought,
and yet it is life. The empiricists think in this way, that is all
there is to it. And it is not the thought of an aesthete, as when
one says 'one more', 'one more woman' . And it is not a
dialectical thought, as when one says 'one gives two, which
will give three'. The multiple is no longer an adjective which is
still su bordinate to the One which divides or the Being which
encompasses it. It has become noun, a multiplicity which
constantly inhabits each thing. A multiplicity is never in
terms, however many there are, nor in their set or totality . A
multiplicity is only in the AND, which does not have the same
nature as the elements, the sets or even their relations. While
it may come about between j ust two, it nevertheless sends
dualism off course. The AND has a fundamental sobriety, a
poverty, an ascesis. Apart from Sartre, who remained caught
none the less in the trap of the verb to be, the most important

and to put language itself to flight } 6 Oh no.. he on his own account took this art of the AND. and also a Yellow English.· junctions. things which were very new. but had the ability to make us think. I t is a case of making language shift. are in our view posing a false problem which only has any validity in the discussions of intellectuals. who are generally guardians of the estab­ lished order. the different use of con. But for this reason it is all the more vulnerable to the subterranean workings of languages and dialects which undermine it from all sides and impose on it a play of vast corruptions and variations. etc. English has always been worked upon by all these minority languages. to mark the line of language which is unfolding. nibbling away at that hegemony as i t extends itself: the reverse of power. Gaelic-English. . uncon­ taminated by English. each of which is like a language shot with a spray-gun of colours: the very different use of the verb to be.58 Dialogues philosopher in France was Jean Wahl . only on its extraordinary capacity for being twisted and shattered and for secretly putting itself in the service of minorities who work it from inside. 1 4 * the highway. a broken English. all relations. a Red English. and if slaves need to have some knowledge of standard English. I rish-English. the furthest. it is not a question of imitating patois or restoring dialects like the peasant novelists. which are all so many war-machines against the English: Synge's AND which takes upon itself all conjunctions. this minoritarian use of language. . imperialistic language. involuntarily. unofficially. with words which are increasingly restrained and a syntax which is in- . and 'the way' . its majoritarian claim to hegemony. in French. 1 5 American i s worked upon by a Black English. Those who campaign for a pure French. the continuous line of the AND . Is it really surprising that this comes to us from English or American? I t is a hegemonic. The American language bases its despotic official pretensions. this stammering of language in itself. He not only introd uced us to an encounter with English and American thought. it is only in order to flee.

syntactics and pragmatics. . of the I nside. Each individual is also himself composed of individ uals of a lower order and enters into the composition of individuals of a higher order. more or less gifted. some blue. possesses an infinity of parts which belong to him in a more or less complex relationship. it is a question of being a foreigner in one's own language. creates composite words whose only link is an implied AND. One might contrast the way in which English and German form the composite words in which both languages are equally rich. AND . AND. which has no foundations. cult of the road which never plunges down. with its strength of its own minorities. stammering. relationship with the Outside. and makes all the conj unctions which it uses to create a composite word tend towards i t : the cult of the Grund. to introduce this creative AND which will make language shoot along. . On the Superioriry of Anglo-American Literature 59 creasingly subtle. Empiricism is nothing other than this. English. All individ uals are in Nature as though on a . and eyes . syntax and experimentation. AND . let us take him by the middle and not by the first principle (a single substance for all the attributes) . and will make us this stranger in our language. Blue-eyed boy: • 7 • a boy. of its own becoming-minor (it is a pity in this respect that many writers suppress punctuation. It is each major language. the nostalgia for being. a matter of speed . body and soul. in the sense that American is indeed the Blacks' language. Anglo-American has a ben t for that.:. On Spino. Each indi­ vidual . . I t is not a question of speaking a language as if one was a foreigner. which in French is eq uivalent to AND) . The soul AND the body.an assemblage. . which must be broken. of the tree and roots.a Why write about Spinoza? Here again. Finding the means proper to French. which shoots on the surface. That is what empiricism is. each in its own way. But German is dogged by the primacy of being. no one has ever had such an original feeling for the conjunction 'and ' . rhizome. in so far as it is our own. on the other hand.

Bodies are not defined by their genus or species. by their organs and functions. but by what the body can do. and who are neither in our world. which are all it is capable of as a result of the rela­ tionships of which it is composed. This is a phenomenon of the indigestion. He is not amazed at having a body. Adam has a bad encounter. What power.60 Dialogues plane of consistence whose whole figure they form. nothing but a tri-polar world! Light affects it and it climbs on to the end of a branch . and for the rest of the time may sleep for years awaiting the encounter. nevertheless! Finally. nor in another. The hairs get in i ts way and i t looks for a hairless place to burrow under the skin and drink the warm blood . of what affects is it capable? Affects are becomings: sometimes they weaken us in so far as they di­ minish our power to act and decompose our relationships (sadness ) .in passion as well as in action. Spinoza never ceases to be amazed by the body. Let us begin with the simple animals who only have a few affects. The smell of a mammal affects it and it drops down on to i t. sometimes they make us stronger in so far as they increase our power and make us enter into a more vast or superior individual Uoy) . a plane which is variable at each moment. a capacity to be affected . A distant successor of Spinoza would say: look at the tick. one always has the organs and functions corresponding to the affects of which one is capable. the tick has only three affects in the vast forest. admire that creature. Everything is simply an encounter in the universe. In this sense there is a greater difference between a race horse and a work horse than between a work horse and an ox. a good or a bad en­ counter. Adam eats the apple. Whence the force of Spinoza's question: ' What can a body do?'. You have not defined an animal until you have listed its affects. . poisoning type: this rotten apple decomposes Adam's relationship. the forbidden fruit. by the affects of which they are capable . i t is defined by three affects. but by what they can do. Blind and deaf. intoxication. They affect each other in so far as the relationship which constitutes each one forms a degree of power.

. are all those which red uce our power to act. the louse and the scalp. flea-becoming. Sadness. the tick and a small patch of mammal skin: these and not the owl of Minerva are the true philosophical beasts. for one would need to have lived to have something to lose. the scalp creases. tick-becoming. . ' Let's dance' . as Virilio says. Spider-becoming. where not only people but the established powers have a stake in transmitting sad affects to us. '. so there are in the soul many things which go beyond your consciousness. we do not yet know what a body is capable of . He wants to demolish the pseudo-superiority of the soul over the body. The tyrant. . sew back together: the spider and his web. sad affects. a little skin is bared . Just as you do not know what a body is capable of. that which effectuates a power to be affected. This is the question : what is a body capable of? what affects are you capable of? Experiment. but you need a lot of prudence to experiment. stubborn life. There is the soul and the body and both express one and the same thing: an attribute of the body is also an expressed of the soul (for example. speed) . The long. That which triggers off an affect. an unknown. Nothing but a few signs like stars in an immense black night. 'What misfortune death is'. The powers that be need to repress us no less than to make us anxious or. resilient. Those who are sick. the captors of souls need to persuade us that life is hard and a burden . On the Superiority of Anglo-American literature 61 but with an associated world that they have learnt how to trim. we are not really very happy. cut up. . The established powers need our sadness to make us slaves. obscure. j ust as there are many things in the body that you do not know. is called a signal : the web stirs. We live in a world which is generally disagreeable. He has a subtler task. . the priest. universal moan about life: the lack-to-be 1 8 * which is life . and the soul simply de­ penden t on the body. I n vain someone says. he does not want to make the body a model. In vain someone says. in soul as in . When Spinoza says 'The surprising thing is the body . . to administer and organize our intimate little fears.

To make the body a power which is not reducible to the organism. Spinoza's famous first principle (a single substance for all attributes) depends on this assemblage and not vice versa. on the contrary. the vampires. but that. a flight from the Powers. he may himself die. Here philosophy becomes the art of a functioning. I t is not easy to be a free man. always in flight although he does not shift much. increase the power to act. the opposite of a morality of salvation. a flight from the Jewish community.62 Dialogues body. he knows that death is neither the goal nor the end. He may be ill. organize encoun ters. I t is all a matter of blood . sadness and joy which qualify these affects. in the company of those who follow the same way. teaching the soul to live its · life. the man of encounters and becoming. a flight from the sick and the malignant. filthy contagion . On the Stoics Why write about them? A darker and more agitated world has never been set out: bodies . will not let go of us. affects which realize this power. . actions and passions themselves are bodies . power to be affected. but qualities are also bodies. Spinoza. seize the vibration of their soul and their body as they pass'. it is on the road. What Lawrence says about Whitman's continuous life is well suited to Spinoza: the Soul and the Body. the soul is neither above nor inside. always in the middle. Spinoza the imperceptible.bodies . to flee the plague. to make thought a power which is not reducible to consciousness. until they have transmitted to us their neurosis and their anxiety. breaths and souls are bodies. exposed to all con tacts. it is 'with'. the resentment against life. . 'feel with them. relationships and encounters. encounters. to be moved by joy. their be­ loved castration. Everything is a compound of bodies . it is a case of passing his life to someone else. not to save it. the philosopher with the tick. There is a Spinoza-assemblage: soul and body. of an assemblage. to multiply the affects which express or encompass a maximum of affirmation .

Which love is not that of brother and sister. Between states of things and compounds. 'to die'. souls and bodies. Between things and even ts. as the lover enters the beloved . incorporeal events. poison each other. 'to love' . as fire penetrates iron and makes it red . from all these bodily struggles. and bread in plants. participating rather in an extra-being which surrou nds that which is: ' to redden'. in effects which result from all these causes together. pure infinitives of which it cannot even be said that they ARE. reinforce or destroy each ot her. which feast is not cannibalistic? But see how. force each other. 'to cut' . in actions or in passions. incest and devouring. so many bodies which grow in our own . impassive. or between the soul and the body. actions and passions. qualities and substances on the one hand . sicknesses which are nurtured in our thighs. . on the other.' Thyestes' terri ble feast. events or im passive. Such an event. . but where no one had seen it before . Who is to say which compound is good or bad. causes. and evaporate together . . withdraw. infinitives which result from these amalgams. On the Superiority of Anglo-A merican Literature 63 interpenetrate. such a verb in the in­ finitive is also the expressed of a proposition or the attribute of a state of things . which no longer consists in qualities.between physical depth and metaphysical surface. it is any verb whatever in the . insinuate themselves into each other. since all is good from the viewpoint of the two parties which encounter one another and inter­ penetrate. A new way of getting rid of the IS: the attribute is no longer a quality related to the subject by the indicative 'is'. The Stoics' strength lay in making a line of separation pass . by hidden channels. 'to turn green'. in causes acting upon one another. on the surface of things. these bodies and many others enter into all bodies. as the carnivore devours its prey.no longer between the sensible and the intelligible. incorporeal Effects. unqualifiable. and . They are pure. there arises a sort of incorporeal vapour. which are expressed in proposi tions. . 'There is flesh in bread . which are attributed to these states of things. but in results of these actions and passions.

assemblages. object of a counter-effectuation or of an eternal truth? The event is always produced by bodies which collide. . incorporeal. True propositions are classified advertisements.TO WALK . in Stephen Crane's book. it differs in nature from its cause.like an original taint . THE NOMADS .EARS. since it acts i tself as a quasi­ cause which skims over bodies. Verbs in the infinitive are limitless becomings. WAS P . infinitives which are not undifferentiated. The telegram is a speed of even t.YOUNG - SOLDIER TO FLEE. between physical things in the depths and metaphysical events on the surface. since it depends on a state and on a compound of bodies as its causes. since it is prod uced by bodies.LANGUAGES . HE . the breaths and qualities which are interpenetrating here and now? But how. True novels operate with inde­ finites which are not indeterminate.TO ENCOUNTER . could the event be exhausted by its effectuation. which overcodes it and puts it in the first person of the indicative. not an economy of means. even at the peak of their singularity.64 Dialogues infinitive which emerges from a state of things and skims over it. as effect.of referring to an I. at least to a possible one. which traverses and traces a surface. proper names which are not persons: ' the young soldier' who leaps up and flees and sees himself leap up and flee. . lacerate each other or interpenetrate.TO ARRIVE. since. But infinitive-becomings have no subject: they refer only to an 'it' of the event ( i t is raining) and are themselves attributed to states of things which are compounds or collectives. impenetrable battle. How could an event not be effected in bodies.TOWARDS.OF . THE SCH I ZOPHRENIC STUDENT . 'the young student of languages' in Wolfson . The verb to be has the characteristic . the flesh and the sword . an impassive.ORC H I D . THE . They are also the elementary units of novels or of events. The question .TO STOP . which towers over its own accomplishment and dominates its effectuation . There is a strict complementari ty between the two. But this effect itself is not of the order of bodies. moreover.

'to move'. a becoming in itself which constantly both awaits us and precedes us. Love is in the depth of bodies. Or Lewis Carroll's transition: he is fascinated by the little girl whose body is worked on by so many things in the depths. but there is also an eternal truth of the wound as impassive. 'to smile' . to want the event. So that. in a particular place. to accompany that effect without body. etc. which is always running up against a sharply pointed body which lacerates it. the immaculate part. in what does an event consist: each asks this question spontaneously. This is the genuinely Stoic transition . 'Where is the storming of the Bastille?' Any event is a fog of a million droplets. we must always be worthy of what happens to us. 'to love'. has never been to resign oneself. Where is the event. still less to play the clown or the mountebank. but it comes from the Outside. when we act or undergo. dying is engendered in our bodies.ffectuate the event. a germ which gives it a pimple: but also the . that part which goes beyond the accomplishment. A love of life which can say yes to death . but to extract from our actions and passions that surface refulgence. a piece of furniture which bumps against it. agents or patients. incorporeal event. becoming the child of one's own events. 'My wound existed before me. an oversized body which penetrates and stifles it. an indi­ gestible body which poisons it. singularly incorporeal. The wound is something that I receive in my body. to counter-e. falling upon us like the battle which skims over the combatants. a fourth person singular. Yes. but also on that incorporeal surface which engenders it. like the bird which hovers above the battle. but over whom skim so many events without substance. like a third person of the infinitive. If the infinitives 'to die' . comes about in our bodies. at a particular moment. it is because there is a part of them which their accomplishment is not enough to realize. I was born to embody it!' 1 9 Amor fati. . On tlu Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 65 'Where is the battle?' has constantly been asked . Stoic morality is undoubtedly this: not being inferior to the event. We live J> etween two dangers: the eternal groaning of our body. are events.

but also great joy. imperceptible­ becoming. Eventum tantum. who proclaim anxiety. not identifying myself with the universe. an encounter. an imperceptible molecule. Scarcely anyone other than the Stoics and the English have thought in this way. Stoical way. a dis­ crete population. molecular-becoming.66 Dialogues histrionics of those who mimic a pure event and transform it into a phantasm. . True Entities are events. since the event alone awaits us. characters or subjects. Making an event . of what scientists do. Between the cries of physical pain and the songs of metaphysical suffering.' For my pathetic wish to be loved I will substitute a power to love: not an absurd will to love anyone or anything. Becoming an entity. It is not easy to think in terms of the event. finitude and castration. not concepts. Great events. but extracting the pure event which unites me with those whom I love. which consists in being worthy of what happens. but an atmospheric variation. who await me no more than I await them. too. All the harder since thought itself then becomes an event. a change of hue. as Lovecraft spoke of it. in so far as one understands it. a speed . One has the impression that the ideal of science is no longer axiomatic or . which was bankruptcy of the will. an event. Loving those who are like this: when they enter a room they are not persons. . an infinitive. It is very difficult to speak of present-day science. revolution. Everything has really changed . it is terror. One must succeed in 'establishing among men and works their being as it was before bitterness' . a fog or a cloud of droplets. the horrific and luminous story of Carter: animal-becoming.is the most delicate thing in the world: the opposite of making a drama or making a story.however small . a becoming? ' For my taste for death. extracting some­ thing gay and loving in what happens. life and death . how is one to trace out one's narrow. I will substitute a death-wish which will be the apotheosis of the will. ENTITY = EVENT. a light. are made in this way: battle.

On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 67

structural at all . An axiomatics was the extraction of a
structure whic h made the variable elements to which it was
applied homogeneous or homologous. This was a recoding
operation , the reintroduction of order into the sciences, for
science has never ceased to be delirious (dilirer] , to make
completely decoded fluxes of knowledge and objects pass
along lines of flight, continually going further afield . There is
thus a whole politics which demands that the lines should be
blocked , that an order should be established . Think, for ex­
ample, about the role which Louis de Broglie had in physics,
in preventing indeterm inism from going too far, in calming
the madness of particles: a restoration of order. Today it
seems rather that the delirium of science is having a revival . It
is not j ust the race to find undiscoverable particles. Science is
becoming increasingly event-centred (ivinnnentielle] instead of
structural . I t follows lines and circuits, it takes leaps, rather
than constructing axiomatics . A sign of this is the dis­
appearance of schemas of arborescence, to give way to
rhizomatic movements. Scientists are more and more con­
cerned with singular events, of an incorporal nature, which
are effected in bodies, in states of bod ies, in completely
heterogen eous assemblages (whence the call for interdis­
ciplinarity) . This is very different from a structure with any
elements whatever, it is an event of heterogeneous bodies, an
event as such which crosses varied structures and specified
sets. No longer is it a structure which frames isomorphic sets;
it is an event which passes across irreducible domains. Take,
for example, the 'catastrophe' event, studied by the mathema­
tician Rene Thom . Or else the reproduction-event, 'to repro­
duce', wh ich happens in a gel, but also in an epidemic or in a
news item . Or else the TO MOVE ABOUT which can affect
the course of a taxi in a town or of a fly in a swarm: this is not
an axiom , but an event which is extended between qualified
sets. They no longer extract a structure common to any
elements whatever, they spread out an event, they counter­
effectuate an event which cu ts different bodies and is effected

68 Dialogues

in varied structures. There are, as it were, infinitive verbs,
lines of becoming, lines which shoot between domains and
leap from one domain to another, interregnums. Science will
be increasingly like grass, in the middle, between things and
between other things, accompanying their flight (it is true that
the apparatus of power will increasingly demand a restoration
of order, a recoding of science) .
English humour (?) , Jewish humour, Stoic humour, Zen
humour: what a strange broken line. An ironist is someone
who discusses principles; he is seeking a first principle, a
principle which comes even before the one that was thought to
be first, he finds a course which is even more primary than the
others. He constantly goes up and down. This is why he
proceeds by q uestioning, he is a man of conversation, of
dialogue, he has a particular tone, always of the signifier.
H umour is completely the opposite: principles count for little,
everything is taken literally, the consequences are expected of
you ( this is why humour is not transmitted through plays on
words, puns, which are of the signifier, and like a principle
within the principle) . Humour is the art of consequences or
effects: OK, fine, you give me this? You'll see what happens.
Humour is treacherous, it is treason. Humour is atonal ,
absolutely imperceptible, it makes something shoot off. It
never goes up or down, it is on the surface: surface effects.
Humour is an art of pure events. The arts of Zen, archery,
gardening or taking tea, are exercises to make the event surge
forth and dazzle on a pure surface. Jewish humour versus
Greek irony, Job-humour versus Oedipus-irony, insular
humour versus continental irony, Stoic humour versus
Platonic irony, Zen humour versus Buddhist irony, masochist
humour versus sadist irony, Proust-humour versus
Gide-irony, etc. The whole destiny of irony is linked to repres­
entation, irony ensures the individuation of the represented or
the subjectivation of the representer. Classical irony, in fact,
consists in showing that what is most universal in represen­
tation is the same as the extreme individuality of the represen-

On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 69

ted which serves as its pri nciple (classical irony culminates in
the theological affirmation according to which 'the whole of
the possible' is at the same time the reality of God as singular
being) . Romantic irony, for its part, discovers the subjectivity
of the principle of all possible representation. These problems
are no concern of humour, which has always undermined
games of principles or causes in favour of the event and games
of individuation or subjectivation in favour of multiplicities.
I rony contains an insufferable claim: that of belonging to a
superior race, of being the preserve of the masters (a famous
text of Renan says this without irony, for irony dries up
quickly when talking of itself) . Humour, on the other hand,
claims kinship with a minority, with a minority-becoming. I t
i s humour which makes a language stammer, which imposes
on it a minor usage, or which constitutes a complete bilingual
system within the same language. And, indeed, it never in­
volves plays on words ( there is not a single play on words in
Lewis Carroll) , but events of language, a minoritarian
language, which has itself become creator of events. Or else,
might there be 'indefinite' plays on words which would be like
a becoming instead of a completion?
What is an assemblage? It is a multiplicity which is made
up of many heterogeneous terms and which establishes
liaisons, relations between them, across ages, sexes and reigns
- different natures. Thus, the assemblage's only unity is that
of co-functioning: it is a symbiosis, a 'sympathy'. It is never
filiations which are important, but alliances, alloys; these are
not successions, lines of descent, but contagions, epidemics,
t h e wind. Magicians are well aware of this. An animal is
defi ned less by its genus, its species, its organs, and its
functions, than by the assemblages into which it enters . Take
an assemblage of the type man-animal-manufactured object:
:\! AN-HORSE-STI RRU P. Technologists have explained
t h a t the stirrup made possible a new military unity in giying
t h e knight lateral stability : the lance could be tucked in under
one arm , it benefits from all the horse's speed, acts as a point

of nomads . i t is the set of the affects which are transformed and circulate in an assem blage of sym biosis. with woman (courtly love) : all sorts of fluxes enter into conjunction . its circulation of affects: what a set of bodies is capable of. and the machine is always social before being technical. it is the opposite. mix together. but also utterances. It must not be thought. linked to the beneficiary's obligation to serve on horseback. in the context of a completely different assemblage . but used in another way. as in the battle of Adrianople. the battlefield is filled with a new type of affects. An assemblage is never technological. until there exists a social machine or collective assemblage which is capable of taking i t into its 'phylum' . it was the grant of land . There are states of things. or at the least two heads. 20 ) The feudal machine combines new relationships with the earth.for example. but also with culture and games ( tournaments) . Tools always presuppose a machine. transmit affects to one another) . defined by its degree of power or 'freedom'. which was to impose the new cavalry and harness the tool in the complex assemblage of feudalism . in an assemblage there are. war. 'desire'? Here desire becomes feudal . regimes of utterances: signs are . i ts affects. one changes no less than the other. as it were. two faces. ' This is a new man-animal symbiosis. How can the assemblage be refused the name it deserves. a new assemblage of war. or used only in a very limited way.70 Dialogues which is immobile itself but propelled by the gallop. A tool remains marginal. states of bodies ( bodies interpenetrate. as elsewhere. however. ( Formerly the stirrup had either been used. that the invention of the stirrup is sufficient. defined by the co-functioning of its heterogeneous parts.or else it was known but not used. In the case of the stirrup. First. or little used. Man and the animal enter into a new relationship. 'The stirrup replaced the energy of man by the power of the animal. There is always a social machine which selects or assigns the technical elements used . Here. if anything. the animal .

On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 71 organized in a new way. one is only assembling signs and bodies as heterogeneous components of the same machine. lawsuit­ machine) . no less than states of things. but machinic states. in the production of utterances. one and the same 'functive'. such that one never does what one says. reasoned judgement. a monetary flux in itself involves as many utterances as a flux of words. Utterances are not part of ideology. is the expressed of the utterance and the attribute of the state of body: an event which stretches out or contracts. the formulas of oaths. Desire. new formulations appear. but a world in which the most extreme j uridicial formalization of utterances (questions and answers. the machinization of states of things and bodies (ship-machine. These are like the variables of the function. a new style for new gestures ( the emblems which individualize the knight. objections. There is no base or superstructure in an assemblage. are components and cog-wheels in the assemblage. it is certainly not that of the strange or the absurd. pleading. the formalization of expression and the for­ malization of content. a becoming in the infinitive. which constantly interlace their values or their segments. Utterances are not content to describe corresponding states of things: these are rather. The only unity derives from the fact that one and the same function. two non-paralle l for­ malizations. In enunciation. . there is no subject. coexists with the most intense machinic formalization. castle-machine. verdict ) . the system of 'declarations'. No one has shown these two complementary faces of any assemblage more clearly than Kafka. with its collective agen ts and bodily passions. but always collective agents: and in what the utterance speaks of there . If there is a Kafkaesque world. To feudalize? In an indissoluble way an assemblage is both machine assemblage of effectuation and collective assemblage of enunciation. ) . one is not deceiving or being deceived. circus-machine. even of love. for its part.are no objects. can involve money. hotel -machine. although one is not lying. as it were. one never says what one does. there is no ideology: utterances. summing up. etc. One and the same K-function.

they do not balance out. a particular code to the utterances. in their turn. that it gives a particular substance to the content. and does the knight not reterritorialize himself on his mount with stirrups. from his de­ territorialization on horseback. a particular indicative mood (present. whose landed wealth is confiscated to be given to the knights. But is there any assemblage without a point of deterritorialization. a particular limit to becoming. We might say of the earth. And this movement finds an outlet in the Crusades. and the knight has always been inseparable from his wandering path.72 Dialogues And then there is yet another axis along which assemblages must be divided . or rather reterritorialization. There is no assemblage without territory. future) to time. either at the beginning or else towards the end. without territoriality and reterritorialization which includes all sorts of artifices. past. for he can sleep on his horse? But at the same time. with its states of things and utterances. or rather of the artificial reterritorialization which constantly takes place. Feudal territorialities.although from different points of view . without a line of flight which leads it on to new creations. impelled by a wind . the Crusades bring about a reterritorialization of empire and church (the spiritual land. which determine or carry along desire. 2 1 The two movements coexist in an assemblage and yet are not equivalent. the new commerce) . but also from all the pre­ capitalist deterritorializations with which it is already shot through . and serfdom itself is insepar­ able from its feudal territoriality. Christ's tomb. it undoes . there is a vast movement of deterritorialization: deterritorialization of the empire and. This time it is according to the movements which animate them. of the church. are not symmetrical. which determine or carry them along. But it might be said that the deterritorialization which takes place at the same time . However.does not affect the earth any less: it liberates a pure matter. since it is a case of a new dis­ tribution of land and a whole system of sub-infeudation. or else towards death? Let us keep to the example of FEUDALI S M . above all.

colour or line. . I t is a bloc of becoming which i s a lways assymetrical . environment-becoming. because each term is a stop which must be jum>ed over. Melville's mariner becomes albatross when t h e albatross itself becomes extraordinary white11 ess. But man also never stop an imal­ becoming. it raisB ti lll c to the infinitive. a nimal. the two movements are caught up in each other. it is when the smile is wit h out a ca t that man can effectively become cat as soon as ht smi les. or p ure colour. i t i s man who beco� s a n imal. I t i s not man who sings or paints. it carries expressions. the set of rela­ tionships which at a particular moment unites mar . bu t at exactly the same time as the animal becomei. and if the ie rm s dis­ appear. there is a K-function. pure vi b ration of white (and Captain Ahab's whale. mu sic. but the one only becomes the ether if the other becomes something yet other. the circumstances in which they are caught up. p ure white wall ) . contents. beco�s s ound.becoming fo r ms a bloc ·with Moby Dick's white-becoming. or an astonishingly simple line: with M o zart's bi rd s it is the man who becomes a bird. . fer th ey are not exchanged at all. M a n only becomes animal if the animal. ' I t always comes down to Blanchot's fine phrase: to reeas e 'the part of the event which its accomplishment cannot e ali se' : a pure dying or smiling or fighting or hating or lovin� or going away or creating . lcco rd ing to another question within these very assemblages. it releases a becoming which no longe has any limit. states of th ngs and utterances along a zigzag broken line of flight. So is this it. because th e bird b ecomes music. for its part. tool-becoming. to paint. It is not that the two are exchanged. everything happens between the two. tools and environment. another axis whi:h Kafka traced out in the dual movement of territorialitie! and de­ terri torializa ti on. Here again. On the Superiori� of Anglo-American Litnture 73 codes. the a�e m blage arranges them both. There is indeed a historical question of the as:em b lage: particular heterogeneous elements caught in the fun: tion. A return to dualism? No. to compose or to write' It is all a . As Lewis Carroll says.

the musician. There is no need for philosophy: it is necessarily produced where each activity gives rise to its line of deterritorialization. to a territory of established states of things: not j ust schools and authors.74 Dialogues question of line. or the pure traced line colour. but not by the abstract line they trace. conforming to a code of dominant utterances. To get out of philosophy. But this is the substance of the novel: from Beckett ' back to Chretien de Troyes. I t is because philosophy is born or produced outside by the painter. Writing is very simple. These activities are differentiated from one another by their respective substances. strange and disoriented creature who wanders about continually. a last root. there is no substantial difference between painting. they were born from something else. but everything which becomes is an object of writing. even in a non­ literary sense. Chretien de Troyes constantly traced the line of the .' Not at all because philosophy would be an ultimate discipline. codes and territorialities. to do never mind what so as to be able to produce it from outside. since what one is becoming at the same time becomes something other than writing. containing the truth of the others. but all those who write professionally. When we come to trace the line. music and wri ting. or the written line the articulated voice. The philosophers have always been something else. painting or music. each time that the melodic line draws along tht. Still less is it a popular wisdom . it is becoming. deaf and blind . Not every becoming passes through writing. on the other hand. becoming something other than a writer. Or else. from Lawrence back to Lancelot. which shoots between them and carries them towards a common fate. sound. the writer. we can say ' I t is philosophy . Everything which becomes is a pure line which ceases to represent whatever it may be. It is sometimes said that the novel reached its culminating point when it adopted an anti-hero as a character: an absurd. passing through the whole history of the English and American novel . Either it is a way of reterritorializing oneself. on the contrary.

On the Superiority of Anglo-American Literature 75 wandering knights who sleep on horseback. involution . for those who do not read or at least for those who will not read you . even a wind from the backyard. rat. who climb into the first cart to come along. A line is traced . sometimes immobilizes us. as a bird sends out a sound . colour of sand . Only the animal in man is addressed . I am a poor lonesome cowboy. one's horse or one's favourite animal . It means writing as a rat traces a line. to extract from the event that which is not exhausted by the happening. For everything which changes passes along that hnc: assem blage. without figures. The knight's point of deterritorialization. which sometimes hurries us along. Being a sea-louse. that which can save itself by means of power and stubbornness. It is the wind. I t is true that one writes only for illi terates. and this used to show its teeth. like Hofmannsthal who used to say that he felt a rat in his throat. These are ribbons stirred by the wind . if it is quite restrained . or as it twists its tail. sometimes in the black hole of the catatonia which absorbs them. which sometimes leaps up . on condition that the animal . Animal-becoming. A strange ecology. It does ' not mean making animals speak. This does not mean writing about one's dog . sound. 22 * Writing has no other goal: wind. i tself be­ comes something else. music or painting. supported by their lance and stirrups. Writing is made of motor agitation and inertia: Kleist . 'keys in the wind to set my spirit to flight and give my thought a gust of air from the backyard' - to release what can be saved from life. 'nuptials or participation aga inst nature' . bird or cat. o n e s cat. A little air passes. even when we do not move. as a cat moves or else sleeps heavily. who constantly set off in zigzag line. even at the expense of their honour.an � b s t ra c t line. A KN IGHT TO SLEEP ON H I S HORSE. symbiosis. who no longer know their name or desti nation. bloc. the stronger for being abstract. line. Sometimes in a feverish haste on the abstract line which carries them off. One writes always for animals. tracing a line of writing. horse. to release from becoming that which will not permi t i tself to be fixed in a term .

Do you know which animal you are in the process of becoming and in particular what it is becoming in you. its antennae and man­ dibles. sometimes remains hidden. a witch's wind? . the nameless. with its dead eye. 'the intellectual beast'. all the less intellectual for writing with its wooden � logs. Lovecraft's Thing or Entity. its nose against a si ngle grain of sand . a whole mob inside you in pursuit of what.76 Dialogues and sees the whole beach. its absence of face.

destroys and exorcises it. But in practice. The unconscious is understood as a negative. and the cow's udder for a mother's breast. but means something else. In this way it wrecks both aspects of the assemblage: the machine assemblage of desire and the col­ lective assemblage of enunciation . 3 Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse I We've only said two things against psychoanalysis: that it breaks up all productions of desire and crushes all formations of utterances. the art of interpretation . it always diminishes.metaphor or . conflicts. the situation does not seem to have changed much. conceals something else. In vain has this been translated as: 'There where it was. compro­ mises or puns. there are always too many for psychoanalysis: 'polymorphous pervert' . And when we move from interpretation to signifiance. from the search for the si gnified to the great discovery of the signifier. it's the enemy. soil /ch werden. there as subject must I come' . What psychoanalysis calls prod uction or formation of the unconscious.it even discovered it. Something always has to recall something else . but of the well-known practical art of psychoanalysis. Among the most grotesque passages in Freud are those on 'fellatio' : how the penis stands for the cow's udder.it's even worse (including the soil. I n the case of desires. This is not a matter of theory. that strange 'duty in an ethical sense' ) . Wo es war. You will be taught about 'Lack'. 'Culture' and 'Law'. are failures. The fact is that psychoanalysis talks a lot about the unconscious . A way of showing that fellatio is not a 'true' d esire.

nor with the images that he draws from it. As with fellatio: oral drive of sucking the breast + Oedipal structural accident.in connection with an Outside. You don't reproduce childhood memories.one in­ stance to structure the whole. they talk about perverse childish activity.a social and political space to be conquered .78 Dialogues metonymy. and which is always con­ temporary with him. The Freudian formula must be reversed . or death . I t is not at all a matter of repressed memories or even of phantasms. There is no subject of enunciation . A man manufactures or assembles [agence] . not with the egg from which he emerged . nor with the structure of germination. Fluxes are the only obj ectivity of desire itself. There is no blossoming of desire. Before psychoanalysis people used to talk about old men's revolting obsessions. and it is not easy. wherever it . the true expression of desire would be Oedipus. Psychoanalysis becomes more and more Ciceronian and Freud has always been a Roman. as raw material to experiment with. You have to produce the unconscious. As soon as desire assembles [agence] something . We say. it is not an 'it was' in place of which the ' I ' must come. There is no subject of desire.the assem blage is broken up. or castration . psychoanalysis makes use of a grid which is perfect for the purpose: the true con tents of desire would be partial drives [pulsions partielles] or partial objects. to get flowing . it is not j ust anywhere. nor with the progenitors who attach him to it. any more than there is an object. Produce some unconscious. but with the scrap of placenta which he has hidden. The unconscious is a substance to be manufactured. on the contrary: you haven't got hold of the uncon­ scious. In order to renew the old distinction between true desire and false desire. a pun or even a d ream . with it. you never get hold of it. you produce blocs of child-becoming with blocs of childhood which are always in the present. Desire is the system of a-signifying signs with which fluxes of the unconscious are produced in a social field . in con­ nection with a becoming . not with a slip of the tongue. I t's the same for everything else.

singularities. Not representing a subject . Military men and weathermen - . Dead P�choanalysis: Analyse 79 happens . . at all costs. it is curious that psychoanalysis .which boasts that it has so m uch logic - understands nothing of the logic of the indefinite article. The psychoanalyst wants there to be. preventing them from toppling under the tyranny of s upposedly significant combinations. a personal. everything that is written with a capital letter. by various m ultiplicities (packs. Assemblages . collectives. ) . Melanie Klein hears 'my mummy's tummy' or 'Will I be big like my daddy?' When they say 'a H itler' . But psychoanalysis cuts off and beats down all connections. masses. The col­ lective machine assemblage is a material production of desire as well as an expressive cause of utterance: a semiotic articulation of chains of expressions whose contents are rela­ tively the least formalized . of the infinitive of the verb and of the proper name. populations. When Melanie Klein's children say 'a tummy' or ask 'How do people grow up?' . And in their expression. ) . . by intensive circulations. assemblages handle inde­ finite articles or pronouns which are not at all indeterminate ( 'a' tummy. 'some' people.for there is no subject of enunciation . 'one' hits 'a' child . The second criticism concerns the way in which psychoanalysis prevents the formation of utterances. a possessive. . . on the contrary. en­ ti ties. Desire is revolutionary because it always wants more connections and assemblages .in their con tent .are populated by becomings and intens1t1es. Not overcoding utterances but. Now. ) . to love .but programming an assemblage.verbs in the infinitive which are not undifferentiated but which mark processes ( to walk. Melanie Klein sees here the possessive of the bad mother or of the good father. to kill. races. hidden behind the indefinite. tribes . A-HANS-BECOM I NG-HORSE) . all assemblages . 'a Churchill'. .proper names which are not people but events ( they can be groups.in an unremarkable family or a local school . a definite.which does not call established structures into question . it hates politics . animals. species.it hates desire. .

etc. not just one. And again. he takes no account of little Hans's endeavour (horse­ becoming. the line of flight or the movement of detern torialization) .' 1 In the same way. a symbolic overcoding of utterances. the bloc of Hans's animal-becoming. The only important thing for Freud is that the horse be the father .have at least got the sense of the proper name when they use it to refer to a strategic operation or geographical process : Operation Typhoon. given an assemblage. is sufficient to break up the ensemble of desire.80 Dialogues more than psychoanalysts . But you don't have the least chance of talking. to stick exclusively to th ese reports and make two columns. because every other way out has been blocked up: the childhood bloc. extracting a segment from it. 'Surprised. If you go to be psychoanalysed. especially of children. a fictitious subject of enunciation who doesn't give the patients a chance. ) .and that's the end of it. Freud does not want there to be six or seven wolves: there will only be one representative of the father. there is what Freud does with little Hans: he takes no account of the assemblage ( building-street-nextdoor-warehouse-omnibus­ horse-a-horse-falls-a-horse-is-whipped! ) . he takes no account of the situation (the child had been forbidden to go into the street. In practice. on the left what the child . to break up becoming in act [le devenir en acu] . All the real-desire has already dis­ appeared: a code is put in its place. the in­ finitive as marker of a becoming. Jung pointed out to him that there were several skulls. doubtless that of his wife. and to substitute for them over-imaginary resemblances (a horse = my daddy) or analogies of over-symbolic relationships (to buck = to make love) . Psychoanalysis is entirely designed to prevent people from talking and to remove from them all conditions of true enunciation. abstracting a moment from it. you believe that you will be able to talk and because of this belief you accept the need to pay. On one occasion Jung tells Freud about one of his dreams: he has dreamed of an ossuary. Freud wants Jung to have desired someone's death. We have formed a small working group for the following task: to read reports of psychoanalysis.

I NTERPRETED . Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 81 said . and the supposed death drives. thresholds and crossings. M rs K. it's not daddy. impervious. of territorialities and deterritorializing movements. the analyst's silence has replaced the commentaries. We see no important practical changes. castration is revealed to be more certain than Oed ipus. according to the account itself. I t's an amazing forcing. K . M rs K.2• like a boxing match be­ tween categories which are too unequal. it has the 'lack-to-be3* which is life' . The leitmotif of the boo k is in the text itself: ' M rs K. I t's all very w e l l to s ay to u s : you understand nothing. the signifier has replaced the signified. i t s the effect of the signifier. structural functions have replaced parental images. interpre­ ted. A patient cannot mutter 'mouths of the Rhone' [bouchts du Rhone] with­ out being corrected . always the card trick of the 'forced choice' ) . i t s the symbolic. ' It is said that there is no longer any of this today: signifiance has replaced interpre­ tation. Mrs K.a particularly comic term . Oedipus.'mother's mouth' [boucht de la mire] . The two central texts in this respect are Freud's little H ans and Melanie Klein's little Richard. i t will be castration . is going to break little Richard 's strength. ·interpreted. Psychoanalysts teach infinite resignation. . it's the finitude of the ' s u bj ect . the arrival at ' c u l t u re. the law. All these assem blages of desire on his part pass through a mapping activity during the war: a distribution of proper names. another cannot say. At the outset there is Richard's humour. if not these kind of things about which the analyst no longer even needs to talk because the person analysed knows t h e m as well as he does? The person analysed has therefore become t h e analyser .m u m m y . and on the right what the psychoanalyst heard and retained (cf. the name of the Father has replaced my daddy . they are the last . I nsensitive and deaf. which makes fun of M . And what could analysis consist of. ' I would like to join a · hippie group' [groupe hippie] without being asked 'Why do you pronounce it big pee?' [gros pipi] . And if it's not Oed i pu s . . These two examples form part of analyses based on the highest signifier. I t's horrifying.

I t sets itself up between spouses. which bears on several points. of adj ustment or even marketing. in a re­ finement. . but he admits that he is forced to laugh alone) . Either it has swamped . a very lofty 'return' to Freud. a triumphant specifying that wants no more pacts except with linguistics (even if the reverse is not true) . They are right to say that they need to be 'remunerated ' to put up with the burden of what they hear. which it is true leads him to the most elevated creations. which bears on the recruitment of people to be psychoanalysed : this re­ cruitment takes place less and less according to the genealogy . . But yes. the narcissistic wound in­ herent in his existence . ' A priest would have been long since hounded out of his church for sustaining so insolent and obscurantist a style. But whatever their considerable difference. Even children are guided by psychologists rather than being led along by their parents . nevertheless.from the family to married life. The phantasm has made childhood memory redundant. his in­ trinsic misery. . . . . . see the dead look they have. the painful reality of the human condition . we believe that these two opposed directions provide evidence of the same changes. the human being's congenital inferiority . psychoanalysis has displaced its cen tre . a solitary harmony. ( 1 ) First. many things have changed in psychoanalysis. his powerlessness to help himself . of techniques of therapy. This is a practical remark.or parent-child relations are regulated by rad io consultations. Or it has hardened . to which it brought its particular touch in a vast syncretism. lovers or friends rather than between parents and children. it is spread into all sorts. they have none the less given up supporting the thesis of a sym bolic and disinterested role for money in psychoanalysis. which implies incompletion. a two-page article: ' Man's long de­ pendence. . its little line in group polyphony . their stiff necks (only Lacan has kept a certain sense of laughter. . I t cannot be said that they are very jolly. there will be others after them ) . .82 Dialogues priests ( no. of the same evolution. We open by chance some article by an auth­ oritative psychoanalyst. conflict .

its specific Order.4 This is of some importance to the actual form of problems: neurosis has abandoned hereditary models (even if heredi ty moves through a family milieu) to pursue patterns of contagion. whether because it has succeeded in penetrating every­ thing. ' there are now analyses where the circles of allegiance of couches frequented by friends and lovers take the place of relations of kinship' . Precisely because it was able to abandon its discredited family model in order to take up a still more worrying direction. on the contrary. Never has psychoanalysis been so full of life. that of propagation by contagion: ' I will not let go of you until you have joined me in this condition. Yet to cure them would mean first destroying this will to venom in them . psychiatry does not seem to h s to have been constituted around the notion of madness but. a 'political' micro-contagion instead of a 'private' macro-lineage. On . particularly vampiric or poisonous. they will constantly draw us into their clutches. ' We admire the discretion of the earlier neurotics. Psychiatry essentially ran up against the problem of cases of delirium where the intellectual faculty was intact. But how could the psychoanalyst do this . of the hysterics or obsessionals. No. Neurosis has acquired i ts most frightening power. or because it has established new foundations for its transcendent position.the same man who derives from it an excellent self-recruitment of his clientele? It might have been thought that May 68 would have dealt a mortal blow to psychoanalysis an. on the contrary. perhaps humorously.cl would have made the style of specifically psychoanalytic utterances seem absurd . As Serge Leclaire says. at the point where this notion proved difficult to a p p l y . ( 2 ) Historically. so many young people have returned to psychoanalysis. who either got on with their business alone or did it in the family: the modern depressive types are. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 83 of the family tree and more and more according to the circle of friends ('You ought to get analysed as well' ) . They take it on themselves to bring about Nietzsche's prophecy: they cannot bear the existence of 'a' health.

psychoanalysis.5 On the other hand . A whole 'psychopathology of everyday life'. But the more psychoanalysis saw it was gaining ground. the delirium of interpre­ tation. the less it seems to have been happy with the contractual relationship ­ even if. on the face of it. it was retained . Psychoanalysis slipped between these two poles. at its inception. suddenly committing an outrageous act which nothing led us to foresee. was going to make the psychoanalyst someone able to insert himself into every pore of the society occupied by these doubtful cases. In short. when they show how psychoanalysis has grown in the soil of psychiatry. saying that we were at once all insane without seeming to be. the more it turned towards the deliriums concealed behind neuroses. there are people who are 'really' mad and yet don ' t seem to be. but who are not 'really' so. succeeded in bringing off a very important manoeuvre: getting all sorts of people to go through the liberal contractual rela­ tionship who had until then seemed excluded from it ( 'madness' put all those it affiicted outside all possible con­ tracts) . Psychoanalysis had in . then of Robert Castel. ) . there are people who seem to be mad . (monomaniac cond uct. etc. their intellectual faculties intact. and first and foremost the faculty of properly managing their money and their possessions ( paranoid conduct. etc. arson. The specifically psychoanalytic contract. but also that we seemed mad without being so. murder. and of not seeing in time the madness of others who clearly are. 6 By discovering between the two poles the world of neurotics. because he is implicated in the dissolution of the notion of madness: he is accused of treating as insane certain people who are not exactly so. a flux of words for a flux of money. it is around the failure of the notion of madness that psychiatry is constituted and that psychoanalysis has been able to link up with it. If the psychiatrist has a bad conscience. the delirium of passion or re­ venge) .84 Dialogues the one hand. it is because he has had one since the outset. having kept their faculties. and even absence of delirium. It is difficult to add anything to the analyses first of Foucault.

7 I f the Ecole Freudienne has brought so many problems to the psychoanalytic world. this time an ideal of giving out statutory documents like certificates of citizenship. For what it clearly proposes is a psychoanalytic statute. The other psychoanalytic bod ies may have judged this project to be inappropriate. For what defines a mass function is not necessarily a collective. in opposition to the old contract: at a stroke it envisages a bureaucratic mutation. Precisely by setting itself up between the two poles where psychiatry came up against its limits. not just in theory. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 85 fact achieved what was the source of Freud's anxiety at the end of his life. identity cards. but they did so because it told the truth about a change which affects the whole of psychoanalysis and which the other organ­ izations preferred silently to leave alone. The importance of the Ecole Freudienne de Paris is perhaps particularly connected to the fact that it expressed for the first time the requirements of a new psychoanalytic order. I t seems more and more that psychoanalysis is acquiring an untransferable. interminable in p rinciple. which suited the be­ ginnings of psychoanalysis) to a mass bureaucracy. under the cover of . by enlarging the field between these two poles and exploring it. it assumed a 'mass' function. At the same time. in its founding acts. it had become interminable. assumes a Ciceronian air and sets up its boundary between ' Honestas' and 'the rabble' . it is not simply as a result of its theoretical hauteur or of its practice. psychoanalysis was to invent a statute law of mental illness or psychic difficulty which constantly renewed itself and spread out into a systematic network. Psychoanalysis invokes Rome. but in its statutory organization. in contrast to limited contracts. it is the juridical transition from contract to statute. class or group character. inalienable. a bureaucracy of the eminent ( the radical-socialist type. statutory fixity. A new ambition was being offered to us: psychoanalysis is a lifelong affair. rather than entering into a temporary contractual relationship. but because of its plan for a n ew explicit organization . the transition from .

on the contrary. but also from contract to statute. hence psychoanalysis' ambition to become an official language. On occasion the interminable years of psychoanalysis give social workers additional 'salary increments' . we are not saying that psychoanalysis is now con­ cerned with the masses. the couch has become the bottomless well. Psychoanalysis then has. if we look. What happens elsewhere is derived or secondary . Psychoanalysis has stopped being 'in search or because it is now constitutive of truth. And this is the second aspect of its change: not only to have moved from family to conjugality. (3) Yet the theory itself has changed. for the signifier for symptoms which would be no more than its effect. from kinship to match. Hence the reversal of the relations between psychoanalysis and psychiatry. An excellent method for encouraging trust . but simply that it has assumed a mass function . or for an 'elite' .86 Dialogues the contractual motif. from lineage to contagion. Once again. psychoanalysis can be seen permeating every part of the social sector. hence its pacts with linguistics (we do not have a contractual relationship with language) . Psychoanalysis has ceased to be an experimental science in order to get hold of an axiomatic system . index sui. its own references and has no more use . We do not regret the passing of this contractual cover-up which was hypocritical from the start. Everything that happens in psychoanalysis in the analyst's consulting room is true. Moreover. seems to have changed . if interpre­ tation gives way to signifiance . 8 This seems to us to be more important than the practice and the theory which in general outline have stayed the same. i n effect. i t is Serge Leclaire who puts it most succinctly: 'The reality of .then a new shift takes place.whether this was phantasmal or restricted . inter­ minable in principle. for an external 'referent'. no other truth than that which emerges from the operation which pre­ supposes it. The transition from the signified to the signifier: if we no longer look for a sign ified for supposedly significant symptoms. Psychoanalysis.

. localized. . When it discovers the signifier. would itself lack all effectiveness without it. by comparison with dominant meanings. .' The psychoanalyst has become like the journalist: he creates the event. because it is statutory or structural : it is it which develops a body. etc. Once again we clearly come up against the question of power. So long as it interpreted or so long as it interprets (search for a signified ) . This question can only be posed in terms of very general remarks: it is true. like something which can be translated and exchanged by virtue of a con­ tract. so that it can set itself up in the 'pores' .with the same inflections as before: even if this power is narrow. the historians of antiquity show the complementarity of Greek city and Euclidean geometry. while not dependent on it. that every for­ mation of power needs a form of knowledge which. it returns desires and utterances to a condition which is deviant by comparison with the established order. or the abstract machine. I t was not because the geometricians had power but because Euclidean geometry constituted the knowledge. . At any rate. to seal some hole or other in the established order. but by the same token localizes them in the pores of this dominant. For ex­ ample. revealing the reality of a literal manoeuvre . a structural one. The psychoanalysts couch has become the place where the game of confronting the real properly unfolds. Dead Psychoanarysis: Anaryse 87 the primitive scene tends to reveal itself more concretely by means of the analytic consulting room than in the surroundings of the parental bed room . From a figurative version. psychoanalysis advertises its wares. that the . a corpus sufficient by itself. when i t itself constitutes a symbolic order which gives a gener­ alized axiomatic system to the established powers. Now this usable knowledge may take two shapes: either an unofficial form. as Foucault says. whose only need is itself. or an official form. we move to the version of reference. established body. of the apparatus of psychoanalytic power . it appeals to a specifically psychoanalytic order (the symbolic order in opposition to the imaginary order of the signified ) .

at the present time. an abstract machine. and to which it gives in return the strength to function: hence the inadeq uacy of the concept of ideology. that of providing by their own methods an abstract machine for modern apparatuses of power . to provide an axiomatic system of man in place of mathematics. an official language that it tries to weld on to linguistics in general. There is no State which does not need an image of thought which will serve as its axiomatic system or abstract machine. This was the unhappy role of classical philosophy .receiving from them valuable endorsement in return? So psychoanalysis has sub­ mitted its tender. But psychoanalysis will have done what it could: it no longer serves the estab­ lished order unofficially: it offers a specific and symbolic order. Everything is happening by another route which psychoanalysis can't even intercept. in this way. which in no way takes into account this relationship. because it has little chance of succeeding in its ambition. And this is the very task which it sets itself: to overcode assemblages in order to subject desires to signifying chains. with the knowledge which suited them . are in the process of fleeing from this particular ground . Dead psychoanalysis. Church and State. biology or informatics. because there are too many competitors and because. all the forces of minority.in the process of talking. the apparatuses of power. all the forces of becoming. Living psychoanalysis. all the forces of art. It is doubtful whether it is succeeding: the apparatuses of power have more interest in turning to physics. space and time. acting and becoming in other ways.that of supplying. thinking. Could we say today that the human sciences have assumed this same role.as we have seen it .all of which . utterances to the status of subjective examples . to invoke the Hon­ estas and a mass function . It is more and more concerned with pure 'thought'. to assume a position of Invariant. to become a major official language and knowledge in place of philosophy. all the forces of language.88 Dialogues city needed for its organization of power. or which psychoanalysis only intercepts in order to stop.

Desire is therefore not internal to a subject. . where particles are emitted and fluxes combine. We have been credited with many blunders about the Anti-Oedipus. the death drive. or even to stake out a dominant position in this regulation. The objection is then . the split subject. And it is doubtless like this each time that desire is conceived as a bridge between a subject and an object: the subject of desire cannot but be split. on the contrary. We said that desire is in no sense connected to the ' Law' and cannot be defined by any fundamental lack. the dangers it confronts. They did not come from us. desire can only be reached at the point where someone no longer searches for or grasps an object any more than he grasps himself as subject. the forces that it mobilizes. about desiring machines. For that's the real idea of the priest: the constituent law at the heart of desire. Far from directing itself towards an object. the holy castration. desire cannot be attained except at the point where someone is drprived of the power of saying ' I ' . . about what an assemblage of desire is. There is only desire in so far as there is deployment of a particular field. the strange culture of death. a field of immanence. was how desire was beyond these person­ ological or objectal CQ-ordinates. criss­ crossed by particles and fluxes which break free from objects and subjects . substitution of statute for contract. It seemed to us that desire was a process and that it unrolled a plane ofconsistence. a 'body without organs' . Dead Psy choanalysis: Analyse 89 reconcile them with an established Order. propagation of particular fluxes. any more than it tends towards an object: it is strictly imman­ ent to a plane which it does not pre-exist. to a plane which must be constructed .mark this ambition to take part in the reg u latio n of assemblages of desire and of enunciation. discovery of a specifically psychoanalytic order. a pact with linguistics . What we tried to show.transition from the family to the circle of contacts. The four pro­ gressive changes that we have just seen . emission of particular particles. and the object lost in advance. desire constituted as lack. Far from presupposing a subject. as Artaud put it.

if you don't know how to. your particles and your fluxes . But who has you believe that by losing the co-ordinates of object and subject you lack some­ thing? Who is pushing you into believing that indefinite articles and pronouns (a. We will shortly return to this example to give more detail. the void has never been hostile to the particles which move about in it. by finding your places. and is part of the constitution of the field of desire criss-crossed by particles and fluxes. As Lawrence says. We have an image of the desert which involves the thirsty explorer. Anorexia is perhaps the thing about which most wrong has been spoken - particularly under the influence of psychoanalysis. and you don't desire it if you can't manage to construct it. third persons (he. without its being mapped out at the same time as your desire'. I mages related to death which are only valid· where the plane of consistence. But already the desert is a body without organs which has never been hostile to the groups who people it.90 Dialogues made that such a desire is totally indeterminate. a grain of Zen . but also: 'You haven't got it. and an image of the void.that of void with lack. is unable to establish itself and does not have the conditions to build on . and that it is even more imbued with lack. even the scarcity of particles and the slowing down and drying up of fluxes are part of desire. on the plane of consistence. and of the pure life of desire. But these are 'fully' part of desire. as a ground which opens up. ' We would . the body without organs. ' But. which is identical to desire. far from accentuating some kind of lack in it. Is the plane of consistence something very strange? We would have to say simultaneously not only: 'You've got it already. What a strange confusion . includes voids and deserts. The void which is specific to the anorexic body without organs has nothing to do with a lack. one) . We really do lack in general a particle of the East. chastity is a flux. without indicating any lack. she) and verbs in the infinitive are in the least indeterminate? The plane of consistenc� or of immanence. your assemblages. you do not feel desire without its being already there.

those whose lack is real have no possible plane of consistence which would allow them to desire. it makes the distinction. In any case. a kind of design . two types of planes. as much as one wishes. would want to call it 'lack'? Nietzsche called it 'Will to Power' . a plane that could be called one of " organization. 'grace' . Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 91 have to say simultaneously not only: ' I t is created all alone. know how to create it. a set of social becomings. except priests. take the right directions. On the one hand . instead of lacks. it necessarily involves a 'collective'. It concerns both the development of forms and the formation of subjects. It is therefore. Even individually. structural and genetic. inferred . And as soon as they construct one. and not the desire to a negativity of lack. clearly indicate a long resentment. but must always be concluded . relation with what it provides . but this is precisely because it gives. ind uced on the basis of what it organizes.' Desire: who. audible. but know how to see it'. a hidden di­ mension . Desiring is not at all easy. We should distinguish between two planes. They are prevented from doing this in a thousand ways. at your risk and peril. For example. it possesses a supplementary dimension. It is like i n music where the principle of composi tion is not given in a directly percepti ble. and from this starting-point they set off victoriously towards that which they lack outside. like an interminable bad conscience. Is this to misunderstand the misery of t hose who really do lack something? But apart from the fact that psychoanalysis does not talk about these people (on the contrary. 'virtue which gives' . even when it is accorded a maximum of immanence by plunging it into . since i t is not given for itself. and also: 'You have to create it. There are other names for it. in the mind of man or in the mind of a god . the long column of crooners of castration. Lack refers to a positivi ' ty of desire. it says pompously enough that it is not concerned with real privations) . they lack nothing on this plane. Those who link desire to lack. It is therefore a plane of transcendence. the construction of the plane is a politics. one dimension more. col­ lective assemblages.

he is this. 9 I n fact no individuation takes place in the man­ ner of a subject or even of a thing. but not in? eterminate. ' ) . which distinguishes this type of individuation. between unformed . On her stroll Virginia Woolrs heroine penetrates like a blade through all things. a day. active or passive affects. motifs. Hecceities are simply degrees of power which combine. one or several years . and it is not brevity. But the stroll is itself a hecceity. elements. but rather what are called • 'hecceities' . he is that . to which correspond a power to affect and be affected. themes. persons. . . HECCEITY = EVENT. with the impression that it is dangerous to live even a single day ('Never again will I say: I am this or that. very different intensities which combine . in proper names which do not des­ ignate people but mark events. to live in this . characteristic features and feelings: harmony of forms. intensities.a degree of heat. or of the Unconscious . An hour. of speed and slowness. and even longer than. articles and pronouns. molecules or particles borne away by fluxes. education of subjects . in verbs in the infinitive which are not undifferentiated but constitute becomings or pro­ cesses. and yet looks from the outside. One such plane is that of the Law. in so far as it organizes and develops forms. an intensity. I t is hecceity which needs this kind of enunciation. It is hecceities that are being expressed in indefinite. the time required for the development of a form and the evolution of a subject.have a perfect indi­ viduality which should not be confused with that of a thing or of a formed subject. A hecceity can last as long as. the floating lines of Aion as distinct from Chronos. But it is not the same kind of time: floating times.92 Dialogues the depths of Nature. And then there is a completely different plane which does not deal with these things: the plane of Consistence. a season. I t is a question of life. 'What a terrible five o'clock in the after­ noon!' I t is not the moment. This other plane knows only relations of movement and rest. and assigns and causes the evolution of subjects. or relatively un­ formed. I t knows nothing of subjects. a climate. genres.

its dimensions grow or decrease with what occurs on it. 10 There are no more forms but cinematic relations between unformed elements. or rather on such a plane: 'He is as lawless as tkt wind and very secret about what kt dots at night' (Charlotte Bronte) . there are no more subjects but dynamic indi­ viduations without subjects. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyst 93 way. Map of speeds and intensities. What is a young girl or a group of young girls? Proust describes them as moving relationships of slowness and speed. which constitute collective assemblages. they have in common the im­ perceptible. and enter into some assemblage according to their compositions of speed . An toine. without its planitude being endangered ( plane with n dimensions) . an animal. on the basis of such a plane. defined uniquely by longitude and latitude. This is no longer a teleological plane. but a geometrical plane. an abstract drawing. or rather. a person are now only definable by movements and rests. like t�e vast slowness of massive Japanese wrestlers. We have already encountered this business of speeds and slownesses: their common quality is to grow from the middle. and individuations by hecceity which are not sub­ jective. but things arrive late or in advance. It is truly a plane of immanence because it possesses no dimension supplementary to what occurs on it. intensities (latitudt) . wo uld he be moved ifhe was not himself a hecceity which runs through the sentence? A thing. Where does the absolute perfection of this sentence come from? Pierre Chevalier is moved by this sentence which he discovers and which runs through him. and all of a sudden. a design . train them and give them mastery. which is like the section of all the various . to be always-in-between. which may be opposed to the plane of organization. a decisive gesture so swift that we didn't see it. speeds and slownesses (longitude) and by affects. Speed has no privilege over slowness: both fray the nerves. Nothing becomes subjective but hecceities take shape according to the compositions of non­ subjective powers and effects. It is this plane. Nothing develops.

It would not be enough to oppose the East and the West here. whatever their dimensions. The West itself is criss-crossed by this immense plane of imman­ ence or of consistence. motifs and subjects are only retained to set free floating affects. in relation to which all variations in relative speed themselves become perceptible.ez speaks of 'programming the machine so each time a track is replayed.idea of an immanent plane which no longer has a hidden principle of organization. Planomenon or Rhizosphere. the plane of immanence which comes from the East and the plane of transcendent organization which was always the disease of the West. and the voids which form part of the plane. j umps. Hence the multiplicity of planes on the plane. eastern poetry or drawing. without it being possible to say 'something is missing' . I t is like a fixed plane. which dissolve subjects and extract their heccei ties. where forms are only retained to set free variations of speed between particles or molecules of sound. suspensions. the martial arts. immobilizations. it gives different characteristics of tempo' . Some contemporary musicians have pushed to the limit the practical . voids. This plane of immanence or consistence includes fogs. Bou. which so often proceed by pure hecceities and grow from the 'middle' . for example. For being thwarted is a part of the plane itself: we always have to start again. where themes. plagues. which carries off forms and strips them of their indications of speed. The extraordinary way in which Boulez deals with the Wagnerian leitmotif. to give the elements new relations of speed and slowness which make them change assemblage. start again from the middle. j ump from one assemblage to another. but where the process must be heard no less than what comes out of it. it indicates the absolute state of movement as well as that of rest. hastes. nothing left but longitudes and latitudes. but ' fixed' does not mean motionless. And Cage speaks of a clock that would give variable speeds. as a silence forms part of a plane of sound (plan sonore].94 Dialogues forms. hypersphere. .

Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 95 Plane of consistence. are desires. Desire never needs in terpreting. A spring. A - V AM PI RE . or making music. whether for internal or external . displacements of a centre of gravity on an abstract line. So we were saying a simple thing: desire concerns speeds and slownesses between particles (longitude). art and even a new politics in this way: no longer as a harmonious development of form and a well-ordered formation of the subject. philosophers or theologians. (Two secrets of Nietzsche: the eternal return as fixed plane selecting the always variable speeds and slownesses of Zarathustra. affects. Do you realize how simple a desire is? Sleeping is a desire. or writing. . a 'stationary process' at dizzying speed which sets free particles and affects. it is all this plane which has only one name . in­ tensities and hecceities in degrees of power ( latitude) . but as assemblage which cannot be read twice.Spinoza already conceived the plane in this way in opposition to the supporters of order and law. to a pleasure principle. blocs of becoming.TO WAKE U P - NIGHT. of suspensions and shootings. ) It is all that. Then we run up against very exasperating objections. Old age also is a desire. which cannot 'replay' without changing the speeds and slownesses between its elements . leaps across voids.the word has too much of a inoral aftertaste. or to a notion of the festival (the revolution will be a festival .TO SLEEP . plane of immanence . Listening to music. it is it which experiments . are desires . The trinity Holderlin-Kleist-Nietzsche already conceived writing. as Goethe or Schiller or Hegel wanted. By way of objection they hold up those who are stopped from sleeping. conj unctions of lines on a plane of immanence. They say to us that we are returning to an old cult of pleasure.and which has absolutely nothing to do with lack or with the 'law' . a winter. ) . As Nietzsche says.AND . . the aphorism not as writing in small pieces. coexistences of variable speeds. who would want to call this law? . Walking is a desire.Desire . Even death.DAY . but success­ ions of catatonic states and periods of extreme haste.

The plane of immanence has nothing· to do . Since every assem blage is collective. We don't even believe in internal drives which would prompt desire. but you lack precisely the condi­ tions which make a desire possible. or an affair of the masses. enslaved. the most he will be able to say is that he doesn't want to be tied up. nor to go into a catatonic state except in hospital. It is constructivist. brings it about. 'incapacitate' desire: they subjugate it to law and introduce lack into it. by making it possible. I t is in itself an immanent revolutionary process. Desire is not restricted to the privileged . exploited. on a plane which is not pre-existent but which must itself be constructed. friend' . subjugated . the only thing we have left to refer to is a state of nature. and who have neither t�e means nor the time for a festival. Organizations of forms.96 Dialogues reasons. We say quite the opposite: desire only exists when assembled or machined. But no desire has ever been created with non-wishes. or who are suddenly struck by a horrible old age or death. it is objected that by releasing desire from lack and law. is itself a collective. neither is it restricted to the success of a revolution once it h� occurred . I n retrospect every assemblage expresses and creates a desire by constructing the plane which makes it possible and . formations of subjects ( the other plane). in short all those who suffer: don't they 'lack' something? And above all. If you tie someone up and say to him 'Express yourself. Not to want to be enslaved is a non-proposition. Without these conditions you obviously do lack something. a desire which would be natural and spontaneous reality. it is indeed true that every desire is the affair of the people. a molecular affair. not at all spontaneist. You cannot grasp or conceive of a desire outside a determinate assemblage. The only spontaneity in desire is doubtless of that kind : to not want to be oppressed. nor the ability to walk. or who have neither the time nor the culture to listen to music. All that is important is that each group or individual should construct the plane of immanence on which they lead their life and carry on their business.

Desire is no more symbolic than figurative. so hideous. There are only becomings and blocs . But the plane does not pre-exist these assemblages which comprise it. Once again little Hans: there is the street. in order to . genital. its failure? We must describe the assemblage in which such a d esire becomes possible. articulate or impede each other and which constitute a particular assemblage on a plane of immanence. its downfall. of animality. But never will we point to drives which would refer to structural invariants. these abstract lines which map it out. We have to ask: could there be an assemblage so warped . Professor Freud himself. There are speeds and slownesses. not to which drives they correspond . There are only different politics of assemblages. or to genetic variables. the parents. to create desire. There are only pliOgrammes. that the utterance ' Long live death' would be an actual part of it and death itself be desired in it? Or isn't this the opposite of an assemblage. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 97 with an interiority. but a machine function. childhood blocs. with the conquest of the outside. or rather diagrams or planes. not in internal stages or by transcendent structures. blocs of present becoming. the horse. affects and hecceities: a horse a day the s treet. the im­ aginary or the symbolic. When we hear of a thing as stupid as the supposed death drive. it is like seeing a shadow theatre. the omnibus. and nothing of the memorial. blocs of femininity. even with children : in this sense everything is political . but with which extrinsic elements they combine to create a desire. the 'has a pee' [fait-pipi] which is neither an organ nor a function. gets moving and declares itself. Eros and Thanatos. it is like the Outside where all desires come from . We can always call it plane of Nature. etc. not memories or even phantasms. This is already the case with children who fabricate their desire with the outside. Oral. nor to which incidents they refer. no more signified than signifier: it is made up of different lines which cross. one of the parts of the machine. nor to which memories or fixations they owe their importance. anal. : we ask each time into which assemblages these components enter.

What is a musical assemblage like this. But the natur«f-artifice distinction is not at all relevant here. the sleeping knight no less than the wandering quest for the Grail. The figures of desire do not derive from this. We say that there is assemblage of desire each time that there are produced.98 Dialogues underline its immanence. the Clara lin�. Guattari speaks of a Schumann-assemblage. There is no desire which does not result in the coexistence of several levels. And there is also the use of the piano. but were already mapping out the assemblage. the Lady no less than the horse. There is the ritornello. a whole concerted enterprise of involution. The natural position of the knight. some of which can be called natural in contrast to others. depends on a new symbiosis of man-animal which makes the stirrup the most natural thing in the world and the horse the most artificial one. combinations of fluxes. The assemblage of feudalis� includes among its elements 'horse-stirrup-lance'. woman-child-virtuoso. the little ritornellos which haunt Schumann and run through all his work like so many child­ hood blocs. the natural way of holding the lance. this movement of deterritorialization which carries away the ritornello ('wings have sprouted on the child ' ) on a melodic line. retained or created by the assemblage. emissions of particles at variable speeds. continuums of intensities. but this is a nature which must be constructed with all the fabrications of the plane of immanence. in an original polyphonic assem blage capable of producing dynamic and affective rela­ tions of speed or slowness. or rather there is . There is the intermezzo. or on a plane of consistence. designated by a proper name? What are the dimensions of such an assemblage? There is the relationship with Clara. There is the little manual machine that Schumann puts together to hold the middle finger tight and secure the independence of the fourth finger. the set of elements. on the basis of an intrinsically simple or simplified form . res­ traint and exhaustion of the theme and form . in a field of immanence. of delay or anticipation which are very complex.

What counts in desire is not the false alternative of law-spontaneity. there is what happens to make the whole assemblage waver: the little manual machine leads to paralysis of the finger. Desire. and then to Schumann's mad-becoming . continuums. . . There is nothing more revealing than the idea of a pleasure­ discharge. It is desire itself which passes and moves. Conversely. in the cult of pleasure. I n speaking of desire we were no longer thinking of pleasure and its festivals. 11 All of this is articulated in the constitutive assemblage of desire. says Felix: a ritornello. There is no need to be Schumann . the affection for a person or subject. combinations. but de­ finitely not without risk or peril . then the music begins. of desire. the child reassuring himself when he is afraid in the dark. nature-artifice. one would have a little calm before desire is rekindled : there is a lot of hatred. . But this is already very complicated : for the ritornello is a kind of sound territoriality. 'Rockabye baby on the tree-top' . . Pleasure is the attribution of the affect. But in its most attractive and indispensable forms. Listen to Schumann . it is the only means for a person to 'find himself again' in the process of . it is the respective play of territorialities. once pleasure is attained. or fear. Without lack. certainly we move towards it with all our might. We simply say that desire is inseparable from a plane of consistence which must be constructed every time piece by piece and from assemblages on this plane. Certainly pleasure is agreeable. re­ territorializations and movements of deterritorialization. ) But it is also the whole movement of deterritorialization which takes hold of a form and a subject to extract from them variable speeds and floating affects. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 99 nothing but intermezzi in Schumann. emissions. 12• ( Psychoanalysis seriously misunderstood the famous ' Fort-Da' when it saw in it an opposition of a phonological kind instead of recognizing a ritomello. it comes rather as an interruption in the process of desire as constitution of a field of immanence. making the music pass to tht middle preventing the sound plane from toppling under a law of organization or development.

the continuum of intensities. I t is when you keep relating desire to pleasure. (So that's what doing history is?) Now.100 Dialogues desire which overwhelms him. but on the contrary by virtue of its positivity. which is an assemblage of desire connected to feudalism as end . why not? Ascesis has always been the condition of . it is giving the assemblage i ts co-ordinates of expression and content. Dating an assemblage is not doing history. Ascesis. it is well known that courtly love implies tests which postpone pleasure. that is. any more than it allows itself to be interrupted by a discharge which would indicate that it is too heavy for it to bear. with much ambiguity. that you also notice that something fundamental is missing. the assem blage. the higher transcendent element and the apparent exterior. proper names. even the most artificial. To the point where. This is certainly not a method of deprivation. the combination of fluxes. I t is the constitution of a field of immanence. hecceities. to the attainment of pleasure. we are obliged to make detours through bizarre fabrications. I t is the immanent process of desire which fills itself up. Courtly love has two enemies which merge into one: a religious transcendence of lack and a hedonistic interruption which introduces pleasure as discharge. as an example. of the plane of consistence that it traces in the course of its process . Everything is permitted. Des­ ire does not have pleasure as its norm. not lack or demand . Take. to break these preformed alliances between desire-pleasure-lack. except what would come and break up the integral process of desire. can only be reterritorialization. which replace both the law-authority and the pleasure­ interruption . It is the same error which relates desire to the Law of the lack and to the Norm of pleasure. articles. or at least postpone the ending of coitus. where desire constructs its own plane and lacks nothing. or the dizziest. but this is not in the name of an internal Lack which could not be filled. This is not something to do with Nature: on the con trary. it requires a great deal of artifice to exorcise the internal lack. The process of desire is called 1oy'. courtly love. Pleasures. infinitive-becomings.

as when a flux begins to revolve around itself and grow stale. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 1 01 desire. What a depressing idea of love. 13 One can say as much. No assemblage can be characterized by one flux exclusively. of the masochist assemblage: the organ­ ization of humiliations and suffering in i t appear less as a means of exorcizing anguish and so attaining a supposedly forbidden pleasure. You will always find an asc esis if you think of desire. We do not believe in general that sexuality has the role of an infras tructure in the assemblages of desire. on the con­ trary. nor that it con­ stitutes an energy capable of transformation or of neutralization and sublimation. � oo narcissis­ tic. not its disciplining or prohibition . entering into conjunction with other fluxes. and where love included the test. it has been 'historically' nl'ccssary that a certain field of immanence should be possible at a particular moment. emitting particles which themselves enter into particular relationships of speed and slowness in the viciniry of certai n other particles. the warrior flux and the erotic flux. But courtly love required a n<>w demarcation in which valour became i tself internal to love. Sexuality can only be thought of as one flux among others. would come and interrupt. in other condi tions. Chivalrous love properly speaking was not possible until the two fluxes had combined . The question about sexuality is: into the vicinity of what else does it enter to form such and . to constitute a body without organs and develop a con tinuous process of desire which pleasure. And it is not im proved by the idea of leaving aside people altogether by brin ging sexuality down to the construction of perverse or sadistic little machines which enclose sexuality in a theatre of phan tasms: something dirty or stale is given off by all this. something which is too sentimental in any case. Now. at a particular place. a particularly con­ voluted one. whose monotony must be va nquished as required by adding extra people. So Felix's fine phrase 'desiring machines' ought to be given up for these reasons . to make it a relation between two people. in the sense that valour gave the right to love. than as a procedure.

falling into a black hole or exhausted. Not the man and woman as sexual entities. It will be all the more sexuality for itself.102 Dialogues such a hecceity. woman. which exhaust or precipitate it . sometimes resting. it is in each of the two that several fl uxes combine to form a bloc of becoming which makes demands on them both. longitudes and latitudes. dead-ended . which allow something to escape and draw us along? Little Hans again : how was the line o f the building and o f the neighbours c u t off . moribund. . ' 14 At each moment we are made up of lines which are variable at each instant. inventive.or child-becoming of Schumann. . even if it causes a certain joy . because its concern is elsewhere. often without them realizing anything. particular relations of movement and rest? The more it is articulated with other fl uxes. orga­ nized and coded narcissism. pure and simple sexuality. a new rhythm is established . with neither phantasm which turns round and round nor idealization which leaps into the air: the masturbator is the only one who makes phantasms. or phantasmed. Psychoanalysis is exactly a masturbation. . amazed. . sometimes inflamed and sometimes dead . which others are active or lively. far from all idealizing sublimation . in the real vicinity of and in real combination with other fluxes. With each change a new being appears. etc. birth of molecular sonority in a woman. There are no mono-fluxes. m usic-becoming of Clara. Sex is a changing thing. tropics and meridians. packets of lines. which may be combined in different ways. while each change is a cause of suffering. the more it will remain sexuality. Sexuality does not allow itself to be sublimated. but a molecular becoming. birth of a molecular woman in music. 'The relations between the two spouses profoundly change over the years. caught in a binary apparatus. The analysis of the unconscious should be a geography rather than a history. a generalized.all depends on the moment and the assemblage. sometimes lively. closed in. And it is not simply from one to the other of the two 'subjects' that this vicinity or com­ bination takes place. Which lines appear blocked.

but one only desires as a result of an assemblage in which one is included (even if this were an association for banditry or revolt). but for having made a dead end out of this one. as a result of which desire is born. 'Anywhere the rails lead us.'15 II The three misunderstandings of desire are relating it to: lack or law.except exits. your grandmother. how was the Oedipal tree developed. We should get to the point of being able to say: your father. or of cause. . to see where it goes. a natural or spontaneous reality.? Psychoanalysis has always haunted parental and familial pathways. Enough to last us a lifetime. every entry is fine from the moment that there are multiple exits. always wanted to do that. why did the child seek refuge on the line of a horse-becoming. even the Name of the father. your mother. etc. And that's just how long I want to take to do it all. we'll just take it. by God. I t is not lack or privation which leads to desi. go down it. having chosen a particular way of branching off rather than another. pleasure or. We do not simply mean that desire is historically determined. what role did Pr ofessor Freud's branching-off play. for having invented conditions of enunciation which crushed in advance the new utterances that it nevertheless gave rise to. And some year. on a plane of immanence or of composition which must itself be constructed at the same time as desire assembles and fabricates. we should not reproach it for. anywhere at all. we'll boat down the Mississippi. Dead Psychoana!Jsis: Ana!Jse 1 03 from him. and if we come to an old offshoot rail line we don't know anything about. merging each time with the variables of an assemblage. the festival. Desire is always assembled and fabricated. everything is fine. Historical determination involves a structural instance to play the role of law. above all. But psychoanalysis has produced every­ thing .e: one only feels lack in relation to an assemblage from which one is excluded. But desire is the real agent. what the hell.

Take the machine that has a dancer for one of its moving parts: one should not say that the machine cannot make some movement that only man is capable of making. in this sense. but on the contrary that man is incapable of making this movement except as part of a certain machine. The history of technology shows that a tool is nothing without the variable machine assemblage which gives it a certain relationship of vicinity with man. That is why it is useless to say that certain movements are impossible for the machine .l 04 Dialogues Machine. or whether. which goes through him. 'machinic' : this does not mean either mechanical or organic. 'in the centre of gravity' . these are the movements such a machine makes because one of its parts is a man. Mechanics is a system of closer and closer connections between dependent terms. goes beyond the structures with their minimum conditions of homogeneity. It is primary in relation to them since it is the abstract line which crosses them and makes them work together. As in Kleist's marionette. A social machine always comes first in relation to the men and animals it takes into its 'stock' . machinism. it has . on the contrary. animals and things: the hoplite weapons of the Greeks predate the hoplite assemblage but are used in a quite different way. it is this shift which gives rise to actual lines or movements. or rather of speed. as in Tinguely's con­ structions.on the contrary. in requiring the heterogeneity of proximities. What defines a machine assemblage is the shift of a centre of gravity along an abstract line. the stirrup is a different tool depending on whether it is related to a nomadic war-machine. But this is wrong: the machine operator is present in the machine. The machine is a proximity grouping of man-tool-animal­ thing. A gesture which comes from the East presupposes an Asiatic machine. It is always astride several structures. The machine. The machine by contrast is a 'proximity' grouping between independent and heterogeneous terms (topological proximity is itself inde­ pendent of distance or contiguity) . It may be said that the machine. points to the unity of a machine operator.

And it is similar with the organism : j ust as mechanics p resupposes a social machine. of their differences and their transformations. emissions of particles. not at all maternal. and from tool to technological machine. Semiology can only be a study of regimes. taking everything into its orbit. axes and gradients. and from one circle to another.this is desire. except to regimes into which the variables of desire enter. is purely imaginary. therefore. to the tools it selects. An c\'olutionary line going from man to tool. it is the sign which presupposes a certain regime. a rncchanic continually j umping from one point to another. It is. I t is the machine that makes the tool and not vice versa. defined by its lines. but they are definable by what occurs on them and in them: continuums of intensity. to the men it makes use of. underlying our development. which particles. combinations of fl uxes. which fluxes. There are many kinds. but always contemporary with our organ­ ization. internal to the machine. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyst I 05 been taken up in the context of the feudal machine. The intense egg. Abstract machines or bodies without organs . A centre can be thought of as an endogenous force. This then is a definition of a regime . It is rather the signifier which refers to a specific regime of signs. It is not the regime which presupposes signs. Now it is these variables (which continuums?which becom­ ings. very doubtful whether the sign reveals a primacy of signifiance or of the signifier. blocs of becoming. a whole. machine functioning distinct from organic functions and from mechanical relationships. which develops by circular irra diation in all directions. separate. the organism in turn supposes a body without organs. Let us take two examples out of the infinity of possible reg imes. Sign refers to nothing in particular. and to the technologies it promotes. and probably not the most important or the most obvious. which sorts of emission and combination?) which define 'regimes of signs'. The machine is social in its primary sense. and is primary in relation to the structures it crosses.

the countryside. the scrub. the totality of signs in turn referring back to a mobile signifier or to a centre of signifiance. a relation with the ou tside which is expressed as an emotion rather than as an Idea. keeps jumping from one point to another: from the face of God to the faceless scapegoat via the scribes. This is a very different machine. the priests and the subjects. as it were. a li ttle bloc of signs. the special role of the priest. exorcized and stamped by a negative sign. but it depends on a specific regime of signs in so far as it expresses a state of fluxes and intensities. of fin­ ished segments. Instead of an endogenous force which suffuses the whole. There will be a group of intensities and fluxes which trace a particular ' map' : at the centre the Despot. each with a beginning and an end .I 06 Dialogues where the 'sign' keeps on referring back to the sign. It can be seen that the line of gravity is. there is a decisive external event. as if to recharge the regime and overcome its entropy. around a centre. an attempt or an action rather than an act of . who acts as interpreter or seer. We are no longer thinking of a simultaneous number of circles in infinite expansion. and that the centre which traverses it. or the God. the radiating organization of the circles. We are thinking of a little packet of signs. with a full bureaucracy to control the relations and movements from one circle to the next ( the palace. in each circle and from one circle to the next. black hole on a white wall. and the totality of signs a signifier. his Face as an exposed face seen straight on. patrolled by a kind of scapegoat. the borders) . whose role is regularly to take away everything that threatens or sullies the working of the machine. and where interpretation. the street. marking on it a succession of processes. reverse image of the despot. such that each sign presupposes other signs. the system's line of flight. keeps on giving us back the signifier. Now take a different regime. his temple or his house. which has to be barred . This is a regime that can be called signifying. a mutation. the village. the 'mechanic' . which lines up along an endless straight line. attribution of a signified .

The faces line up. The linear segmentarity of succession is substituted for the circular segmentarity of simultaneity. even if this means that the utterance produces the enunciation again. there is a point of subjectivation which provides the starting-point of the line. keeps on turning away from his subject. that I will accomplish the subjective mission of God. But now the machination takes the form of a treason : it is by turning myself from God who turns from me. become Point of subjectivation. it is the authoritarian face. it is the end of one process which marks the beginning of another. in linear succession. The prophet. A very different mechanism from that by which the signified provided another signifier: this time. it merges with the gravity or velocity of the machine. to period s and conditions that are very different. is another regi me of signs. I nstead of a centre of signifiance. very different from the signifying regime. turn away and put themselves in profile. as the divine mission of my subjectivity. Dead Psychoana!Jsis: Ana[yse 107 imagination . the man of the double turning-away. The face has curiously changed the way it works: it is no longer the despotic face seen straight on. the line of flight has assumed the value of the positive sign. fall into a black hole. It is even a double turning-away. The line of flight has completely changed its value: instead of being stamped by the negative sign which indicates the scapegoat. But it is no less broken. If we concentrate on these two for the moment. as Holderlin said about Oedipus: the God. we wonder what they refer back to. who also keeps turning away from his God . has replaced the priest. This. like another map-making: subjective regime or regi me of passion. the operations of the scribe and the interpretations of the seer. then a subject of utterance. and in relation to which a subject of enunciation is con­ stituted . Well. interpreter or seer. which turns away to put itself in profile. includi ng the face of the despot. It is here that treason takes the place of trickery: the signifying regime was an economy of trickery. at each occnrrence. they refer back to anything. segmentarized in a succession of finite processes which. They can refer . then.

The Hebrew. castration . phallus. instead of being the Temple. On the one hand. which radiates out in all directions. immobile and omnipresent in the harmony of the elements. in contrast. he throws himself into a line of flight to which he attributes the greatest positive value. works of art. and to a despotic regime which organizes intensities and fluxes in the irradiating circular style that we have tried to define. contract-process that is always precarious . between the land and the waters. all the mutations from the castrating Master to the castrated goat) . has lost the Temple. etc.we will be the goat and the lamb. God become slaughtered animal: ' Let evil come back upon us' . linear turning-away is imposed as the new figure which connects God and his prophet Uerome Lindon has demonstrated this in the case ofJonah. in a totally different sphere: how. It seems to us that the Pharaoh belongs to a highly signifying machine. The double. there be­ comes apparent a distinction between two major kinds of delirium. Then we think of something quite different. called monomaniac. On the other hand. subjectivation . but he segmentarizes this line in a series of finite authoritarian 'processes' . Without there ever being any scope to reduce them in the slightest.108 Dialogues back to social formations. social formations: we can revive Robertjaulin's terms. whose starting-point is an endogenous force like a centre of signifiance. and the totality of the signs to a central signifier (despot. with all the leaps. historical events. It is the scapegoat who becomes the most intense figure . For example.too oppressive to bear . in the nineteenth century.Moses invokes the process or demand .which must be redirected and distributed into successive segments. The Passion. it is also what the sign of Christ is to be) . central. or passionate and con- . it is also what the sign of Cain is. paranoid and interpretative de­ lirium. constantly referring one sign back to another. psychological types. a very different form of delirium. I t is the Ark which is now j ust a little packet of signs shooting out along a desert­ line. the Hebrew and the Pharaoh. but also to pathological formations.

low in­ tensity) . and then find out what happens. pas­ sionate or subjective. etc. . high intensity ) . I f the machine is not a mechanism. Tristan and Isolde follow the line of passion of the boat which takes them away: Tristan. say psychiatrists. or 'body without organs'. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 109 cerned with demand : an external occurrence. for example (specifically anorexic elegance. very differentfrom the redundancy of signi. . a blink. a shoe. . 'He's a traitor' . but a whole new body of material arrived from both sides or was found to be available at that moment. what regime of signs. or an alcoholic. We have seen how psychiatry. Homage to Fanny: the case of anorexia. but combined with other fluxes. a fetish. a face that turns away . the redundancy of resonance. called 'madness'. of emotion rather than imagination. Our distinctions are undoubtedly too hasty. at its beginning. as the passionate person lodges himself in the line of flight which goes from black hole to black hole.this point of subjectivation is swallowed up along a straight line which will be segmentarized in successive pro­ cesses with variable intervals. it is always then that desire assembles . I constitute myself as a subject of enunciation (flux of pride. It is a question of food fluxes. Tristan . And then a second 'process' begins. Delirium of action rather than idea. clothes fluxes. There is here a type of redundancy. Isolde. But it is not in the same way as a masochist assembles. 'he' gave me a sign. which can be anything. an arc. A person suffering from a passionate or subjective delirium starts a process. I fall back to the condition of subject of utterances ( 'He is cheating me'. and if the body is not an organism. or an anorexic. indicated by a point of subjectivation: 'He loves me'.fYing or offrequency. or a drug addict. lingerie. found itself trapped between these two kinds of delirium : this was not a matter of symptomatology. overflowing the system of what was. a little local packet of signs. Isolde. particles or fluxes. until then. We ought to take each specific case and search in it for its specific machine. a point of subjectivation. dependent on a 'postulate' or a concise formula rather than a germ of development.

. Cook-model. She will turn consumption against i tself: she will often be a model . but one Lhat is neutralized . The anorexic consists of a body without organs with voids and fullnesses . The alternation of stuffing and emptying: anorexic feasts. but involution. from a woman who wants to have a functioning of the body and not simply organic and social functions which make her dependent. of a refusal of what the organism makes the body undergo. it is a matter of a refusal of the organism. woman-becoming of every anorexic) . There is a whole plane of construction of the anorexic. making oneself an anorganic body (which does not mean asexual : on the con­ trary.1 1 0 Dialogues Fanny's trinity: Virginia Woolf. because hunger tricks them by making them subject to the organism. Her goal is to wrest particles from food. a peripatetic cook. this system. It is a feminine protest. Anorexia is a political system. M urnau . and which will be dissolved in different ones. it is on the contrary a way of escaping the organic constraint of lack and hunger at the mechanical mealtime. We should not even talk about alternation : void and fullness are like two demarcations of intensity. minute particles with which she will be able to create her void as well as her fullness. or else multiplying the absorption of little things. who will make something for others to eat. Not regression at all. the imbibings of fizzy drinks. the point is always to float in one's own body. or else she will like being at the table either without eating. Kay Kendall) . Anorexics are enthusiasts : they live treason or the double turning-away in several ways. of little substances. a micro-politics : to escape from the norms of consumption in order not to be an object of consumption oneself. I t is not a matter of a refusal of the body. They betray hunger. The anorexic void has nothing to do with a lack. involuted body. a mixture that can only exist in this assemblage. depending on whether she gives them out or receives them . they betray the famil)' because the family betrays them by subjecting them to the family meal and a whole family politics of consumption ( to put in its place an uninterrupted consumption.she will often be a cook.

' I ' m starving. . it i s not a matter of partial objects. fundamentally bad . lack . Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 111 sanitized ) . or to spit it back out) . on the other hand . People are always in the middle of some business. So the second question arises: why does the anorexic assemblage come so close to going off the rails. molecular woman-becoming in the anorexic. ' she says. never things diminishing each other's contribution. trick-the-family. hence the need to select and extract particles from it. a flux of sexuality: a whole. Perhaps. and not the lack dominating a pre-established interpretation. where nothing may be designated as its origin. worms and bacteria. I n short. In the first place. to becoming lethal? What are t he dangers it constantly skirts and the dangers into which it falls? This is a question that must be taken up by a method other than psychoanalysis: we must try to find out what dangers arise in the middle of a real experiment. Always things encountering each other. I t i s what w e call a regime o f signs. and above all combination of fluxes ( the food flux enters into relation with a clothes flux. It is true that psychiatry and psychoanalysis do not understand. in opposition to a dietary or organic regime) . because food is tre­ acherous by nature ( the anorexic thinks that food is full of grubs and poisons. Trick-the-hunger. we should distinguish in a regime of signs the abstract machine which defines . trick-the-food . grabbing two 'slimming yoghurts ' . because they bring everything down to the level of a neuro-organic or symbolic code ( ' lack. the family or the consumer society. anorexia is a history of politics: to be the involuted of the organism. a flux of language. emission and conquest of food particles (constitution of a body without organs. ' ) . There is politics as soon as there is a continuum of intensities (anorexic void and fullness) . whether man or woman) . Anorexia will assume increasing importance as a result. We thought that this digression on anorexia should make things clearer. we should not mul tiply examples. A cartography and never a symbolics. Above all. finally they betray food. because there are an infinite number of them pointing in different directions. .

crusades. to a very remote global enterprise. a steppe of the anorexic body. there will be no causal de­ pendence. but eq ually in the course of passionate delirium. History is constantly being re­ made. which is common to our en­ terprise. delirium is not personal or a family matter. depending on whether things happen on 'my' body. The same plane will be taken up and taken up again at very different levels. to very distant geographical environments. in the history of the Hebrews. a set of surroundings or an 'ego'. Not that each person reproduces a fragment of universal history.1 12 Dialogues it. shifts of races and of continents' ) . in the construction of a work. and at very different periods. etc. The same abstract machine in very different assemblages. and the assem blages which realize it. but collectives without organs which are realized in a people. . without it being possible to establish causal or symbolic connections. a society. on his own body. which is realized . and the actual assemblages into which it enters: thus the machine of subjectivation. Hence a secret of delirium: it haunts certain regions of history which are not arbitrarily chosen. at what period would you like to have lived ? And if you were a plant. a capital of the paranoid body: these are not metaphors between societies and organisms. but we are always in a zone of intensity or fl ux. There may be a desert of the hypochondriac body. Between these assemblages. a Negro . expeditions of discovery that are completely foreign to us. which operate in very different circumstances. but conversely it is constantly being made by each of us. I dreamt of . it is world-historical ( ' I am a beast. Which famous person would you like to have been. or a landscape? But you are all this already. republics without histories. re­ volution of customs. a geographical body ( but my body is also a geography. or a people. but mutual branchings. your mistake is sim p ly in the answers. on a social body. And areas of history haunt deliriums and works. stifled religious wars. You are always an assemblage for an abstract machine. or peoples) . 'proximities' independent of distance or of spatio-temporal proximity.

in an interpretative paranoid assemblage. Every concrete semiotics is of the little Negro or of the Javanese type. from the point of view of the abstract machines they put into play. the semiotics of sedentary peoples (and how many combinations of the sedentary. a mixture of several regimes of signs. very limited ones: a Signifying Regime. and of sedentary­ nomad. There is no pure condition of passion in delirium. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyst 1 13 elsewhere in other assemblages. there are an infinite number of regimes of signs. Anorexia itself sketched out another regime which we reduced to this schema only for convenience. which is said to be realized in a contractual authoritarian assemblage. there are) . Only neighbours matter. Signifiance and the signifier enjoy no privilege. which they pro­ foundly transform. A concrete semiotics is a mix. which is said to be realized in an imperial despotic assemblage. never our neighbours who might be from another planet. both at the level of abstract machines and of their assemblages. from the point of view of the mixtures they carry out. who always are from another planet. You are always in the middle of something. and the journey of the Hebrews is some­ thing different again ) . The regimes of signs are innumerable: multiple semiotics of 'primitive peoples' . underlined at the same time their mixed . semi­ otics of nomads (and those of the desert are not the same as those of the steppe. which they dream of restoring on new foundations by reconstructing the Temple. We have looked at two. animal or landscape. But there are so many others. and also all the concrete assemblages. a paranoiac element is always combined with it (Clerambault. The Hebrews straddle a nomadic semiotics. We should simultaneously study all the regimes of pu re signs. plant. I n the second place. under other conditions. History is an introduction to delirium. a Subjective Regime. and also. We know our rela­ tives and associates. but reci procally delirium is the only introduction to history. and also in a passionate [passionnel] or demanding monomaniac assemblage. the psychiatrist who distinguished most clearly between the two types of delirium. and an imperial semiotics.

but now it would be a question of showing how one pure regime of signs can be translated into another.1 14 Dialogues nature) . like the face-function in semiotics of painting. not now simply how semiotics mix.whether the same or a new one . but how new semiotics are detached and pro­ duced . since it would show. putting them into play in one another's mechanisms. but it would simply be a matter of showing how an actual assemblage brings into play several regimes of pure signs or several abstract machines. without noticing the composite nature of its approach (its operations proceed through infinite despotic signifiance. with the turning-away of faces: psychoanalysis is doubly interminable) . initiating an un­ limited series of linear processes where at each instance the psychoanalyst . 1 6 What can be said about huge assemblages like 'capitalism' or 'socialism'? The economy of each one and its financing put into play very varied types of regime� of signs and abstract machines. If we consider a detail. and how abstract machines are themselves capable of mutations. whilst the quattrocento integrated depth by providing the face with a degree of profile or even of turning away. This second point of view would be more profound. between the picture · and the viewer. with what transformations. what unassimilable residues. seen straight on. psychoanalysis is incapable of analysing regimes of signs because it is itself a mix which operates simultaneously by signifiance and subjectivation. A general semi­ otic regime should therefore have a first component which is generative. what variations and innovations. left depth outside the picture. For its part. A second component would be transformational. . inspiring new assemblages. we see clearly how the mixtures are created : Jean Paris showed that the Byzantine imperial face. while its organizations are passionate [passionnel].plays the role of 'point of subjectivation'. but a picture like Duccio's Appeal to Tiheriw creates a mix whereby one of the disciples still exemplifies the Byzantine face while the other enters into a specifically pas­ sionate [passionnel] relation with the Christ figure.

in his own evolution in regard to semi­ otics? . signification. Such a machine can integrate specifically syntactic or even semantic regimes. but on the contrary. all the more collective for being his particular one: behind an apparently . So that a language-system is as much a heterogeneous flux in itself as in a relationship of reciprocal presupposition with fluxes that are heterogeneous both in regard to each other and to the language-system . nor an 'organon' of a language-system. For it is not the organic functions of language. On the contrary. expression. Dead Psychoanalysis: A nalyse 1 15 I n the third place. to become more and more 'passionate' [passionnel]. An abstract machine is never a thing of language. One can still determine abstract organic functions which presuppose language ( information. Literature.he begins with a notion of the 'signifier'. that determine the regimes of signs. at the same time as the machine assemblages of desire are fixed in fluxes of content. ) . What does Roland Barthes do. enactment. but shapes very varied combinations. say this? Pragmatics is called to take upon itself the whole of linguistics. 'business of the people' . whether the invariants are conceived as structural or 'genetic' (hereditary programming) . in the manner of Saussure and even more of Chomsky. One can even. We will not fault such a machine for being abstract. for not being abstract enough. etc. emissions and continuations of fluxes. it will push aside the very varied variables and assemblages which influence a single language into a sort of depository labelled 'pragmatics'. think of an abstract machine which presupposes no knowledge of a language: homogeneity and invariance are postula ted. it is the regimes of signs (pragmatics) that fix the collective assemblages of enunciation in a language as flux of expression. Kafka. why can the most solitary person. There are no functions of language or of the organ or corpus of a language-system but rather machinic functionings with collective assemblages. a regime of signs is never to be confused with ei ther language or a language-system. then seems to elaborate a regime that is both open and secret.

1 16 Dialogues personal lexical regime. in reality he is creating a pragmatics of language. its conciseness. itself so multilingual. the point is that every language is itself so bilingual. even its abstraction : an unstressed involuting line that determines the meanders of a phrase or a text. Making a book which would have to be mentally coloured-in is perhaps what Barthes found in Loyola. the micro-politics of language. and behind this network a pragmatics of particles and fluxes. 'multilingual ' . (3) there is no abstract machine internal to language. There are no functions of language. The point is not 'bilingual' . He appears to 'explain himself. no 'competence' separate from 'performances'. linguistic ascesis. combined and continued . that is push ever further the points of de­ territorialization of assemblages. at the same time as they provide content with a particular machine assemblage of desire ( there is no signifier of desire) . in all sorts of ways. capable of modification and colouring-in. like a cartography which is reversible. (2) there are no universals or invariants of language. at the same time as there are all sorts of fluxes in the contents that are sent out. A language is criss-crossed by lines of flight that carry off its vocabulary and syntax. that inflects every redundancy and bursts figures of style. And abundance of vocabulary and richness of syntax are only means to serve a line whose test of quality is by contrast its restraint. that one can stutter in one's own language. (4) there are therefore several languages in a language. be a foreigner in one's own language. only regimes of signs which simultaneously combine fluxes of expression and fluxes . which take up in their own way some theses of Weinreich and above all of Labov: ( 1 ) it is pragmatics which is essential because it is the true politics. a syntactic network flourishes. of gravity or velocity. only abstract machines which provide a language with a particular collective assemblage of enunciation ( there is no 'subject' of enunciation) . whose ideal poverty masters the richness of the others. It is the pragmatic line. Felix Guattari has written a text on the following linguistic principles.

but always related to fluxes of content determined by the regime of signs. What Labov discovers in language to be immanent variation. 'What is writing? What is wri ting?' . homosexuality. there are no metaphors. on the contrary. When we consider a flux of writing on its own. we can be sure that it has crossed another flux or that it has been introd uced to a different regime of signs (for instance. When we consider language on its own. and assemblages of enunciation in the former. or even enters into a different syntax. I t is never a matter -of metaphor. in relation . to the way he snatches particles from this flux. ' the young schizophrenic student of languages'. com bines them at top speed and combines them with verbal particles snatched from his mother tongue. 1 7 When a word assumes a different meaning. etc. seems to us to go back to states of com­ bination of fluxes. 19 Emitting verbal particles which enter the 'proximity' of food particles. What would identify a pragmatics of language.this way. theft. without any­ thing ever coming out. and a fl ux of expression is never on its own. in content and expression. 1 8 The extraordinary attempt of Louis Wolfson. each caught up in the other. not of leaving his mother tongue. but of putting it to flight and deterritorializing it . since he retains its sense and sound. it can only turn circles round i tself. we are not making a true abstraction. falling into a black hole where the only sound for ever after is the echo of the question. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 1 17 of content. the sexual sense that a word from elsewhere can assu me. The poetry of Fran�ois Villon: combination of words with three fluxes. irreducible either to the structure or the development. determining assemblages of desire in the latter. we are depriving ourselves of the condi tions which would make possible the attribution of an abstract machine. Language is never the only flux of expression. only combinations. gambling. is difficult to reduce to normal psychoanalytic and linguistic considerations: the way he translates his mother tongue at top speed into a mixture of other languages .is intimately connected to the anorexic flux of food. and vice versa) .

mutational. etc. the passionate fpassionnel] subject of enunciation. or else they will be caught in the movement which combines their lines of flight even further. circumstances or intentions. and which is everywhere in flight. It would seem that regimes of signs refer simultaneously to two systems of co-ordinates. but are cut up and bartered in successive processes. im­ perialism : but according to the other system of reference. how . how elsewhere they fall into black holes. New York. Either everything is related to a plane of organ­ i�ation anti development which is structural or genetic. and will discover behind every assemblage the point that undoes the basic organization. it may still be said that the American language today contaminates all languages.1 18 Dialogues to its syntactic and semantic aspects. Yellow. Either the assemblages that they determine are reduced to a principal component as organization of power. or everything is launched on a plane of consistence which only knows differential speeds and hecceities. in a stable order with dominant meanings ( thus despotic signifiance. To take account of these alternatives. form or subject. Either the abstract machine will be overcoding - it will overcode every assemblage with a sign ifier. we must introduce a third component which is no longer simply generative or transformational. Red or White English. city without language. etc. making them discover new connotations or directions. making the assemblage shoot off into a different one. but rather the fact that it reaches the extreme of abstraction in the context of machine com­ ponents.) . . it is Anglo-American which finds itself contaminated by the most diverse regimes.or else it will be mutant. would therefore not be its relation to the determinations of psychology or of situation. but diagrammatic or pragmatic. constantly excavating a different language within the first one. Black English. According to one regime of co-ordinates. with a subject. how over there they gain a positive quality. We must discover in every regime and every assemblage the specific value of the existing lines of flight: how here they are stamped with a negative sign.

Think of him so hard that he can no longer be an object. the becomings in play. D. and equally so that you cannot identify with him. reach their zone of proximity or indiscemibility: abstract machine) . in the process of outlining a particular fragment for a plane of consistence. the clinic. etc. So many dead writers must have wept over what has been written about them. My ideal. And as they are all this at once. Note by G. Give back to an author a little of the joy. the energy. This only became clear to us when Felix arrived. Avoid the double shame of the scholar and the familiar. sexual particles. overcoded. I think this is what I wanted to do when I worked on some writers. in . or the psychiatry. Think of the author you are writing about. and it is for that reason that the book pleased nobody. Sacher-Masoch. or the linguistics. Proust or Lewis Carroll. when I write about an author. as it were. on the contrary. Criticism and the clinic ought strictly to be identical: but criticism would be. mutating. that might make him weep in his grave. a map of what is blocked. or. What interested me. a sieve which would extract the particles emitted or picked up. verbal particles. on their com­ binations of particles ( to the point where food particles. or ifhe is dead. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 1 19 elsewhere again they enter the service of a war-machine. Diagrammatism consists in pushing a language to the plane where 'immanent' variation no longer depends on a structure or development. I hope that Kafka was pleased with the book that we did on him. . the life of love and poli tics that he knew how to give and invent. was not the psychoanalysis. or else bring a work of art to life. would be to write nothing that could cause him sadness. the outline of the plane of consistence of a work. on the route to liberation. but on the combination of mutating fluxes. and we did a book on Kafka. they make at each moment a diagram. or should have interested me. the fluxes combined. on their productions of speed. but the regimes of signs of a given author.

It would simply be a matter of knowing three things. has broken up regimes which have up to this point been mixed together. according to a transformational component? Why is there not also 'Nietzscheism'. not at all by subjectivity) . An assemblage may have been in existence for a long time before it receives its proper name which gives it a special consistence as if it were thus separated from a more general regime to assume a kind of autonomy: as in 'sadism'. What has happened is that the doctor has created a new grouping. ( I ) The function of the proper name ( the proper name. anti-psychoanalytic. the proper name brings about an individuation by 'hecceity'. has reunited sequences of regimes which up to this point were separate. 'masochism'. a semi­ ology of regimes of signs which is anti-psychiatric. on the lines of a generalized clinic. anti-philosophical? And what will an isolated. . ages and sexes. would be the outline oflines on this plane or the way in which the lines outline the plane. it refers to one or several assemblages. Roger . which cross voids. a new hecceity. does the proper name isolate an assemblage. how it draws in the rest. art of declension. a new individuation of symptoms. which continue. towards what destination. Charlotte Bronte designates a state of the winds more than a person. . here. Criticism. that is. and most importantly the line of steepest gradient.1 20 Dialogues accordance with its precise meaning. A clinic without psychoanalysis or interpretation. It is here that the proper name becomes proper name and finds its function. 'Spinozism'. why does it make it into a particular regime of signs. 'Proustism'. a criticism without linguistics or signifiance. art of combinations [conjugaisons] like the clinic. Why. Virginia Woolf designates a state of reigns. named regime of signs become in the clinical current which carries it away? What is fascinating in medicine is that the proper name of a doctor can be used to designate a group of symptoms: Parkinson. which of them are dead-ended or blocked. is precisely not a reference to a particular person as author or subject of enunciation. 'Kafkaism'. :ro But what dis­ tinction is there between the doctor and the sick man? It is the sick . at a certain moment.

On the contrary. bringing to the future. For example. and which are composed along with it. the more you will be a 'collective' that meets other collectives. bringing about non-personal individuations. but also as succession of finite Pro- . Thus the love­ letter as assemblage of enunciation: a love-letter is most im­ portant. inventing. but much more the states of desire internal and external to the work. in Sacher. that combines and interconnects with others. and what mixtures he uses (generative component) .the Castle as irradiating despotic centre. Staying with the two representative examples that we have picked out. And by content we do not just mean what a writer talks about. each time.Masoch the flux of pain and humiliation is expressed as a contractual assemblage. in 'proximity'. his 'subjects'. the less you will be a person or a subject. the contracts of Masoch. the content-expression distinction is so relative that a flux of content may even come into the expression. Dead Psychoanalysis: A nalyse 121 man too who gives his proper name. Never consider a flux all on its own. in the double sense of the themes he deals with and the characters he puts before us. This is Nietzsche's idea: the writer and the artist as doctor-sick man of a civilization. (2) A regime ofsigns is no more determined by linguistics than by psychoanalysis. and in connection with what. it is the regime of signs itself that will determine a particular assemblage of enunciation in the fluxes of express ion and a particular assemblage of desire in the fluxes of content. reactivati ng. the despotic signifying regime and the subjective passionate (passionnel] reg­ ime. we can see how they are combined in Kafka . since it is made up of several fluxes which carry along the characters and things. We have to ask. Every assemblage is collective. The more you create your own regime of signs. we tried to describe and demonstrate how it worked. and which are only to be divided or reassembled as multiplicities. in so far as it enters into an assemblage of enunciation in relation to other fluxes.the first task would be to study the regimes of signs employed by an author. but these contracts are also contents in relation to the expression of the authoritarian or despotic woman. what the flux of writing is connected with. in the case of Kafka .

processes of sleep. which was not pre­ existent. more burning than words'. core of a galaxy whose spirals include utterances and contents. No longer are elements on one side and syntagms on the other. . Kafka's K-function. but equally because we are talking so much with 'materials which are more immediate. there are only particles entering into each other's proximity. and which blends all the lines. Lovecraft's Hypersphere. more fluid. each time new regimes are produced. is the way in which all these regimes of signs move along a line of gradient. it is here that there is no longer any fixed distinction between content and expression. ' I had the idea'. who passes in contrast through a series of finite linear processes. but an immanent real plane. tracing out a plane of consistence or composition which characterizes a given work or group of works: not a plane in the mind. you will never catch a flux all on its own) . in the end. writing-loving.1 22 Dialogues cesses in a series of contiguous parts. so much is anorexia a regime of signs. on the basis ofa plane ofimmanence. the intersection of all the regimes (diagrammatic component) : Virginia Woolfs Wave. Nietzsche's dietary regime and that of Proust and Kafka. the Rhizosphere . and they understand it as such. Few authors have been able to match Proust in bringing into play a multitude of regimes of signs out of which to compose their work. We no longer know ifit is a flux of words or of alcohol. . 'that what I wanted to do now was to saturate each atom. says Virginia Woolf. (3) But the essential point. in relation to Albertine. Proust's Spider's Web. a new usage of the language-system excavates a new language-system in language ( transformati0111Jl component) .' And here again there are no . are also forms of writing. and the signs a regime of calories 2 1 (the verbal aggression when someone breaks • the silence too early in the morning. we are so drunk on pure water. Kleist's Pro­ gramme. eating. We no longer know ifit is a flux offood or of words. variable with each author. In addition.speaking. And see how differently they are combined in Proust: in relation to Charlus. processes of imprisonment. processes of jealousy. where what was expression in the earlier ones becomes content in relation to new forms of expression.

Stalinism. but never lacking. in a different way). which let themselves be attributed. Literature? But here we have Kafka putting literature into an immediate relationship with a minority­ machine. plane of consistence of desire. bureaucracy. See how Kleist put literature into an immediate relationship with a war-machine. particles definable solely by relationships of movement and rest. constructions of differential speeds (and it is not necessarily speed that wins. a new collective assemblage of enunciation for German (an assemblage of minorities in the Austrian Empire had already been Masoch's idea. There are only particles left. nor are there any subjects. at the same time as reaching its plane of consistence. fascism. In short. what is important in Kafka is precisely the way in which. deterritorialized ritornello. or subjectivating. or being developed as a result of a genesis. it is not the one who is the richest in affects ) . formed or developed. Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse 1 23 longer any forms being organized as a result of a structure. There are now only hecceities left. he uses or anticipates (capitalism. always incomplete. speed and slowness. individuations which are precise and without subject. constantly tend to join up and intermingle in a common mass through the envelopes which separate them': 22 collective assemblage of enunciation. For us. or legislating. .josephine the chicle. where the proper name reaches its highest individuality by losing all personality .imperceptible­ becom ing. Nathalie Sarraute made a highly important dis­ tinction when she opposed to the organization of forms and the development of persons and characters this quite different plane traversed by particles of an unknown material. 'which. it is not necessarily slowness that is the last to get there) . like droplets of mercury. all the 'satanic powers of the future') . he puts them in flight or movement on a plane of consistence that is like the immanent field ofdesire. the criticism-clinic should follow the line of steepest gradient in a work. which are definable solely by affects or powers (and it is not necessarily the strongest that wins. throughout the regimes of signs. persons or characters.

At the same time. we are made up of lines and these lines are very varied in nature. which cut us up in all senses. saying: 'Now you're not a baby any more'. This is why family histories.becomings. in all kinds of directions. And each time. A threshold is crossed. com­ memorations. they are molecular fluxes with thresholds or quanta. . whilst our true changes take place elsewhere . they even direct irreversible processes.and then the factory . I t's not that they are more intimate or personal - they run through societies and groups as much as individuals. we have lines of segmentarity which are much more supple. all kinds of clearly defined segments.another politics. which don't even have the same rhythm as our 'history' .holiday.and then retirement. they make detours. Many things happen on this second kind of line . they speak to us. registrations. family .and then the army . packets of segmentarized lines. they sketch out rises and falls: but they are no less precise for all this. job . from one segment to the next.of rigid segmentarity (or rather there are already many lines of this sort) : family - profession. In short. . and at school. micro-becomings. But rather than molar lines with segments. They trace out little modifications. are so unpleasant. 'You're not at home now'. another time. which does not necess­ ari{y coincide with a segmmt of more visible lines. as it were molecular. The first kind of line which forms us is segmentary . another indi- . 'You're not at school now' . and in the army.and then school . 4 Many Politics I Whether we are individuals or groups.

has no other object than the study of these lines. for. according to him. . caught up in one another. 2 Though Fi tzgerald is a living drama . micro-politics. the forms of madness which are secret but which nevertheless relate to the public authori ties: for example. the connections. if indeed it succeeds in detaching i tself. there is a third kind of line. to become detached from the two others. and yet is the most complex of all. who live on only one. the three lines are immanent. What we call by different names . in a wonderful short story. and. pragmatics. In any case. which is even more strange: as if something carried us away. Many Politics 1 25 vid uation . so he believed. an accountant. We are complicated in a different way from a hand . A profession is a rigid segment. the attractions and re­ p ulsions. a barrister. the most tortuous: it is the line of gravity or velocity. or who have only one. . not pre-existent . at several speeds. Nevertheless. For perhaps there are people who do not have this line. This line is simple. from another point of view. rhizomatics. but. this line has always been there.his text is sombre. the others are derived from it. it is nothing other than the progression of the soul of the dancer . a cleaning lady? At the same time. . . in another sense. straight in the majority of cases . which do not coincide with the segments. not foreseeable. cartography .'1) This line appears to arise [surgir] afterwards.defining life as a demolition process . who have only the two others. or a j udge. but also across our thresholds. in groups or as indi­ viduals. towards a destination which is unknown. . . across our segments. again. We have as many tangled lines as a hand . but no less exemplary for that. diagrammatism. being a teacher. although it is the opposite of a destiny: it does not have to detach itself from the others. that a life always goes at several rhythms. the line of flight and of the greatest gradient { 'the line that the centre of gravity must describe is certai nly very simple. this line has something exceedingly mysterious. abstract. but also what happens beneath it.schizoanalysis. Fitzgerald explains. rather it is the first.

or the rise of a threshold of exigency: you can no longer stand what you put up with before. marking a threshold of lowered resistance. but it can also be an old man's fear. which concerns us all at a particular time. pro­ ducing immense relief. the segmented line. your riches most assured . it is when your health is at its best. This is a type of line. the American Dream is as much in the street-sweeper starting out to become a multimillionaire as in the multimillionaire himself. he says that for him there were at first great segments . or the development of a paranoia. even yesterday. His genius is never so great as when he speaks of his loss of genius. at a particular place. We do not .rich-poor. Fitzgerald calls these 'cuts' [coupures] . formation of fascism. at the same time: there are lines of crack [filure] . Not being able to bear something any longer can be a progression. young-old. all sorts of things which could be said to be heterogeneous. but also a new serenity. which do not coincide with the lines of great segmentary cuts. Fluxes have moved. Thus. im­ perceptible. the same segments) . but whose segments respond to and precipitate each other) . each segment marks or can mark a cut. It can be a political or affective appraisal which is perfectly correct.1 26 Dialogues each sentence inspiring love. This time we might say that a plate cracks. love-love's drying up. rise of the cinema which replaced the novel.secret. the opposite. our relationships of speed and slowness have been modified . health-sickness. And Fitzgerald says something else. Or the opposite: things go better for you when everything cracks on the other line. stock market crash.which were related to social events (economic crisis. your talent most manifest. success-loss of success. or everything goes better on the other line. Whether it heads towards degradation or success does not alter much (on this model a successful life is not the best. a new type of anxiety comes upon us. that the crack happens on this new line . creativity-sterility . that the little cracking which will move the line obliquely starts to happen . the distribution of desires has changed in us. But it is rather when everything is going well.

he has acquired something invulnerable. and he knows that by loving. a pure movement which is difficult to discover. Certainly it is not the great segments. And then. Fitzgerald speaks of yet another line. a tax­ collector. changes or even journeys which produce this line. the supple line is not more pe rsonal. or like the Pink Panther he has painted the world in his own colour. You have become like everyone. we do not age. I t might be said rather that an 'absolute' threshold has been reached . claps his hands. he is always in the middle . Despite the different tones. abandon love and the ego . It might be thought that nothing has changed. but neither does he have the suppleness of a poet or of a dancer. . the mobile and fluent thresholds. hums a ritornello. it is a little like the way in which Kierkegaard describes the knight of the faith. . and nevertheless everything has changed. You have undergone a curious stationary journey. which he calls rupture. in the same way . he dances with so much precision that they say that he is only walking or even staying still. retraces his . but in fact you have turned the 'everyone' into a becoming. he does not make himself obvious. no less than macro­ cuts are personal .from one line to the other. a tradesman. clandestine. one must be self-contained.in the middle of two other lines? 'Only movements concern me. he never begins. ONLY MOVEMENTS CONCERN ME: 3 the knight no longer has segments of resignation.' A cartography is suggested today by Deligny when he follows the course of autistic children : the lines of custom. You have become imperceptible. more intimate. {it is curious that Lawrence has written similar passages) . he blends into the wall but the wall has become alive. There are no longer secrets. and also the supple lines where the child produces a loop. a third. Many Politics 1 27 change. he takes things by the middle. finds something. he is painted grey on grey. but neither is it the most secret mutations. even by loving and for loving. although these approximate more closely to it. There is now only an abstract line. Nevertheless. Micro-cracks are also collective. he resembles rather a bourgeois.

child-adult. you are a transvestite: each time the machine with binary elements will produce binary choices between elements which are not pre­ sent at the first cutting-up) . These are the devices . and no longer relates to simultaneous elements to choose between. then you are c: dualism has shifted. (2) Segments also imply devices of power. 4 All these lines are tangled. an analysis of lines which takes his path far from psychoanalysis. each fixing the code and the territory of the corresponding segment. or colliding against each other. And they are not roughly dualistic. their language. and not only their walk.1 28 Dialogues steps. and then the 'lines of wandering' mixed up in the two others. of ages. of sectors. of races. which vary greatly among themselves. ( I ) Segments depend on binary machines which can be very varied if need be. their style. if you are neither black nor white. ours-not ours. man-woman. First of all. but their gestures. confronting each other. black-white. what little inventions he puts there) . public-private. you are a half-breed. These binary machines are all the more com­ plex for cutting across each other. their affects. we should give a more precise status to the three lines. we can indicate a certain number of charac­ teristics which explain their assemblage. Deligny produces a geo­ analysis. of sexes. and they cut us up in all sorts of directions. of subjectivations. if you are neither man nor woman. they are rather dichotomic: they can operate diachronically (if you are neither a nor b. or rather their functioning in the assemblages of which they form part (and there is no assemblage which does not include them) . Here therefore are the approximate characteristics of the first kind of line. Binary machines of social classes. but suc­ cessive choices. and which relates not only to autistic children. to all adults (watch someone walking down the street and see what little inventions he introduces into it. but to all children. if he is not too caught up in his rigid segmentarity. For the molar lines of rigid segmentarity.

it regulates the passages from one side to the other. because he has ventured beyond his own territory and his code no longer works. confor­ mist actions and feelings. their convertibility. Or rather the apparatus of the State is a concrete assemblage which realizes the machine of overcoding of a society. the segments which prevail over the others. One can even conceive of 'forms of knowledge' which make their . ) . their translatability. both those that it takes on itself at a given moment and those that it leaves outside itself. It does not depend on the State. It is not that the apparatus of the State has no meaning: it has itself a very special function. which refer to a central bank as State apparatus) . The segmentarity of adjacent offices in Kafka. who refused to see in them the simple emanations of a pre-existing State apparatus. . This machine in its tum is thus not the State itself. Greek geometry functioned as an abstract machine which organized the social space. different. it is I who give the orders here . . it is the abstract machine which organizes the dominant utterances and the established order of a society . and the prevailing force under which this takes place . We should ask today which are the abstract machines of overcoding. kinds of money have rules of convertibility. Each device of power is a code-territory complex (do not approach my territory. The abstract machine of overcoding ensures the homogenization of different segments. which are exercised as a result of the forms of the modern State. de Charlus collapses at Mme Verdurin's. M. It is by discovering this segmentarity and this heterogeneity of modern powers that Foucault was able to break with the hollow abstractions of the State and of 'the' law and renew all the assumptions of political analysis. in the conditions of the concrete assemblage of power of the city. the dominant languages and knowledge. in as much as it overcodes all the segments. between themselves and with goods. but its effectiveness depends on the State as the assemblage which realizes it in a social field (for example. Many Politics 1 29 which have been analysed so profoundly by Foucault. different monetary segments.

which concerns both forms and their development. blocs of becoming. the planifications. The abstract machines here are not the same. ) . all the lines of rigid segmentarity . 5 The status of the other type of lines seems to be completely different. they are mutating and not overcoding.ation which always has at its disposal a supplementary dimension (overcoding) . marking their mutations at each threshold and each combination. . ( 3 ) Finally. The plane is not the same.1 30 Dialogues offers of service to the State. one must distinguish the devices ofpower which code the diverse segments. the laser which puts forms in order and subjects in their place. marking continuums of intensity. claiming to provide the best machines for the tasks or the aims of the State: today informatics? But also the human sciences? There are no sciences of the State but there are abstract machines which have relationships of interde­ pe ndence wit h the State. A plane of organk. combinations of fluxes . proposing themselves for its realization. . plane of consistence or of immanence which tears from forms particles between which there are now only relationships of speed and slowness. This is why. when a segment wavers. constituting becomings. subjects and their formation. when an outline begins to tremble. nor because mixtures like bisexuality or class- . enclose a certain plane. the abstract machine which overcodes them and regulates their relationships and the apparatus of the State which realizes this machine. inspii:ed the segmentations. The binary machines no longer engage with this real. the binary machines which cut them and the abstract machines which cut them again . and tears from subjects affects which now only carry out individuations by 'hecceity'. on the line of rigid segmentarity. The education of the subject and the harmonization of the form have constantly haunted our culture. we call the terrible Lunette to cut things up. all rigid segmentarity. proceeding by thresholds. As Pierre Fleutiaux says. The segments here are not the same. a par­ ticular sex . not because the dominant segment would change (a particular class.

but of tracing another line in the middle of the segmentary line. but of a third which always comes from elsewhere and disturbs the binarity of the two. the great oppositions. The great ruptures. A Corsican here. the Amazons arrive.there will always be someone to rise up to the south. they begin by overthrowing the' Trojans. Many Politics 131 m1xmg would be imposed : on the contrary. It is not a matter of adding a new segment on to the preceding segments on the line (a third sex. molecular masses which no longer have the outline of a class. overcoded by an abstract machine as the sketch of a World Order. a Green ecologist. because the molecular lines make fluxes of deterritorialization shoot be­ tween the segments. 'The Amazons are with us'. the imperceptible ruptures . hut they turn against the Greeks. as Giscard d' Estaing said gloomi ly. molecular races like little lines which no longer respond to the great molar oppositions. opposed in a binary machine. molecular sexuality which is no longer that of a man or of a woman. attacking them from behind with the violence of a torrent. a Russian dissident . in the middle of the segments. but not the little crack. It is certainly no longer a matter of a synthesis of the two. fluxes which no longer belong to one or to the other. a plane hijacker. and a stream erodes a path. a feminist movement. a third class. but which constitute an asymmetrical becoming of the two. of a synthesis of 1 and 2. Imagine the Greeks and the Trojans as two opposed segments. a third age) . so that the Greeks cry. even if it is a shallow stream . This is how Kleist's Penthesilea begins . are always negotiable. which carries them off according to the variable speeds and slownesses in a movement of flight or of flux. To continue the use of geographical terms: imagine that between the West and the East a certain segmentarity is introduced. which brings everything into play and diverts the plane of organization . face to face: but look. It is then from North to South that the destabilization takes place. a tribal upsurge. arranged in the State apparatuses. elsewhere a Palestinian. not so much inserting itself in their opposi tion as in their complementarity.

there is another dimension of the assemblage which does not form a dualism with this latter. independently of the number of parts. but to form part of them in one dimension on which the whole assemblage can topple over or turn back on itself. Godard : what counts is not merely the two opposed camps on the great line where they confront each other. an irruption of the Amazons.it doesn't matter where it is - that is. no less than molecular lines. Nations. The devices of power do not seem to us to be exactly con­ stitutive of assemblages. in so far as dualisms belong to this dimension. through which everything passes and shoots on a broken molecular line of a different orientation . But. planified. You only escape dualisms effectively by shifting them like a load. Now. both work within each other at the heart of the assemblage. We may be criticized for not escaping from d ualism. There is no dualism between abstract overcoding machines and abstract machines of mutation : the latter find themselves segmentarized. We say 'south' without attaching any importance to this. classes. a frontier which traced i ts unexpected line. But what defines dualism is not the number of terms. which are cut up. with two kinds of lines. machined. In the same way there is . of flight or slope. whether they are two or more. What we call an assemblage is. any assemblage necessarily includes lines of rigid and binary segmentarity. but also the frontier. sexes have their south. or lines of border. precisely. a narrow gorge like a border or a frontier which will turn the set into a multiplicity. and when you find between the terms. overcoded by the others. at the same time as they undermine them. any more than one escapes from dualism by adding other terms ( x 2 ) . a multiplicity. his line of slope or flight. in fact. But everyone has his south . differently. drawing along the segments like torn-off blocs which have lost their bearings. organized.1 32 Dialogues which come from the sou th. May 1 968 was an explosion of such a molecular line. We talk of the south in order to mark a direction which is different from that of the line of segments.

in m usical assemblages.. etc. its transcendent plane of organization. with its machines tangled up and its planes intersecting. at the same time as the assemblage of desire is formed . desire lo oppress or to be oppressed. working in it to block movements. of lines and directions in the heart of an assemblage. but revolution. its pro­ l i ferations and dissolutions. how can it desire its slavery?' we reply that the powers which crush desire. mixed up in each other. under this particular wind . and it is also on the plane of imman­ ence that the other arises. . for it to find i tself caught. The long-term role of the power of the church. oppression. but of a multiplicity of dimensions. they are traced out. animal-becomings.�!any Politics 1 33 no dualism between the two planes of transcendent organ­ i z a tion and immanent consistence: indeed it is from the forms and subjects of the first plane that the second constantly tears the particles between which there are no longer relationships of speed and slowness. There is no desire for revolution. its 'non-pulsed time'. its melodic and harmonic forms which are developed. woman­ Ol'comings. This is true of a musical assemblage. for example: wi th its codes and territorialities. or in what form it will be barred . It is not that these lines are pre­ existent. fix affects. they are formed. its dichotomized measures. or which subjugate it. organize forms and subjects. its constraints and its apparatuses of power. power. its child-becomings. immanent to each other. its immanent plane of con­ sistence. no less than the organ­ iz ations presuppose the material in fusion which they put in order. are the actual component lines of a given assemblage. and what the musicians succeed in . like a boat. To the question 'How can desire desire its own repression. themselves already form part of assemblages of desire: it is sufficient for desire to follow this particular line. but also with its transformers of speed be-tween sound molecules. The speed indicators presuppose forms that they dissolve. as there is no desire for power. We do not therefore speak of a dualism between two ki nds of 'things'. We don't know in advance which one will function as line of gradient.

the deterritorialized ('the desert grows . and the great inventions of man imply a passage to the steppe as deterritorialized forest. and the mouth a deterritorialized animal mouth. At the limit. But what do they mean. but each time with a complementary reterritorialization: the locomotor hand as the deterritorialized paw is reterritorialized on the branches which it uses to pass from tree to tree. whose com­ plementarities form continuums of intensity. these words which Felix invents to make them into variable coefficients? We could go back to the commonplaces of the evolution of humani ty: man. . then prehensile. who remains attached to the environment. it is the Earth itself. by differential speeds. . by the turning-up of the mucous membranes to the exterior: but a correlative reterritorialization is carried out of the lips on to the breast and conversely. and it is the nomad . desert or steppe. borrowed elements called t� ls that it will brandish or propel. so that the bodies and the en­ vironments are traversed by very different speeds of de­ territorialization. . When they say to us that the hominoid removed i ts front paws from the earth and that the hand is at first locomotor. But the 'stick' tool is itself a deterritorialized branch. deterritorialized animal. or into the middle. The breast is said to be a mammary gland deterritorialized by vertical stature. but also give rise to processes of reterritorialization . This is true of all assemblages . at the same time man is reterri torialized on the steppe. these are the thresholds or the quanta of deterritorialization. What must be compared in each case are the movements of deterritorialization and the processes of reterritorialization which appear in an assemblage. the prehensile hand as deterritorialized locomotion is re­ territorialized on the torn-off. ' ) .1 34 Dialogues making pass into this. the man of deterritorialization - although he is also the one who does not move. the man of earth.

in a society. everything flees and that a society is defined by its lines of flight which affect masses of all kinds (here again. its 'peace of God'. Many Politics 1 35 II But it is in concrete social fields. at specific moments. the deterritorialization of the masses of the nobility. is defined by its contradictions. its organization of Crusades. which takes forms as varied as the Crusades. The Crusades (including the Children's Crusade) may appear as a threshold of combination of all these movements. not. with the dis­ possession of its lands. We would rather say that. the new forms of towns. A society. The great geographical adventures of history are lines of flight. 'mass' is a molecular notion) .it is alw ays on a line of flight that we create. these constitute the social field. that the comparative movements of deterritorialization. far from being utopian or even ideological. that is. but also a collective assemblage. the movements of flight. indeed. A Marxist can be quickly recognized when he says that a society contradicts itself. settlement in towns. the deterritorialization of the Church. the whole of its becoming. and in particu­ lar by its class contradictions. long expeditions on foot. the continuums of intensity and the combinations of flux that they form must be studied. far from being a flight from the social. the great deterritorialization of peasant masses under the pressure of the latest invasions and the increased demands of the lords. the long march of the Chinese . We take some examples from around the eleventh century: the movement of flight of monetary masses. One might say in a certain sense that what is primary in a society are the lines. its fluxes of deterritorialization. on ho rseback or by boat: that of the Hebrews in the desert. the new types of exploitation of the earth (renting or wage labour) . trace out its grada tion and its boundaries. that of Genseric the Vandal crossing the Mediterranean. that of the no mads across the steppe. is defined first by its points of deterritorialization. For. because we . whose installations become less and less territorial. the deterritorialization of woman with chivalric love and then courtly love.

one of which would be like the nomadic line. sometimes only two. molecular line where the deterritorializations are merely relative. capable of homogenizing it and overcoding all i ts segments. with their respective coefficients of speed. and the stabilizations of classes. urban ones on new functions. . or in the sense of an eternal generality. but on two different lines which are entangled. a 'class' then emerges which benefits particularly from it. etc. on the contrary. a hecceity like a wind which blows up. with their segments distributed in the reterritorialization of the whole . sometimes only one which is very muddled . of equilibrium and stabilization.the same thing acting as mass and as class. another migrant and the third sedentary (the migrant is not at all the same as the nomadic) .1 36 Dialogues imagine that we are dreaming but. but in fleeing to seek a weapon . For reterritorializations happen at the same time: monetary ones on new circuits. precipitates their quanta. where the reterritorial­ izations accumulate to form a plane of organization and pass into an overcoding machine. a midnight. finally the molar line with clearly determined segments. with contours which do not coincide. detours. we compose there a plane of consistence: To flee. This primacy of lines of flight must not be understood chronologically. and then a second. carries them on to a plane of consistence or a mutating machine. One is then better able to understand why we sometimes say that there are at least three different lines. I t is rather the fact and the right of the untimely: a time which is not pulsed. Three lines. a midday. At the limit it would be necessary to distinguish the movements of masses of all kinds. because we trace out the real on it. rural ones on new modes of exploitation. To the extent that an accumulation of all these reterritorializations takes place. tears from them the accelerated particles which come into contact with one another. Sometimes three lines because the line of flight or rupture combines all the movements of deterritorialization. always compensated by re­ territorializations which impose on them so many loops.

But even then it may be convenient to present TH E line as being born from the ex­ plosion of the two others. because the molecular li n e would appear only to be oscillating between the two extremes. feeling. which allows itself to be stopped or cut in the third. . sometimes brought back to the accumulation of reterritorializations ( the migrant sometimes allies with the nomad. briefly outlined. Or else there is only one line. uniting the boats in their organized segmentarity. Draw the line. affected by a negative sign. Politics is active exeerimen_ta�ion. Many Politics 137 Or else there would be only two lines. our regimes of signs. when it is totalitarian it takes upon itself the abstract machine and tends to become . cut up into successive processes . the primary line of flight. Let us go back to the regimes of signs about which we spoke earlier: how the line of flight is barred under a despotic regime. says the accountant: but one can in fact draw it anywhere. of border or frontier. since we do not know in advance which way a line is going to turn. acting. the State is merely an apparatus which directs the realization of the abstract machine. how i t finds in the Hebrews' regime a posi tive but relative value.molecular-becoming. the white whale in its crazy flight. . sometimes is a mercenary or the federate of an empire: the Ostrogoths and Visigoths) . all the binary machines which cut us up. It is true that national States oscillate between two poles: when it is liberal. sometimes carried along by the combination of fluxes of deterritorialization. which is relativized in the second line. Nothing is more complicated than the line or the lines . and there are many others: each time it is the essen tial element of politics . the abstract machines which overcode us: it concerns our way of perceiving.it is that which Melville speaks of. For this concerns not merely our relationships with the State but all the devices of power which work upon our bodies. These were two cases only. There are so many dangers: each of the three lines has i ts dangers. The danger of rigid segmentari ty or of the cutting line appears everywhere. Captain Ahab in his animal and.

but we have entered a regime which is no less organized where each embeds himself in his own black hole and becomes dangerous in that hole.1 38 Dialogues indistinguishable from it. Even if we had the power to blow it up. mobile rela­ tionships of force have taken over from the devices of power. Guattari discusses micro-fascisms which exist in a social field without necessarily being centralized in a particular apparatus of the State. our perception. but also the most pitiless and bit ter. a threshold crossed too quickly. You have not taken enough precautions. All the more so. in any case. But not only may we discover on a supple line the same dangers as on the rigid one. The danger is so pervasive and so obvious that we should rather ask ourselves why we need such segmentarity despite all this. everything is involved . since it is so much a part of the conditions of life. including our organism and our very reason? The pr:_u �e_!! ('. merely mini­ aturized. marked by a rigidity which reassures us. but directly at ourselves. an in­ tensity become dangerous because it could not be tolerated . to undermine it. scattered or rather molecularized: little Oedipal communities have replaced the family Oedipus. This is the 'black hole' phenomenon : a supple line rushes into a black hole from which it will not be able to extricate itself. since the second line has its own dangers. But the segments which run through us and through which we pass are. with a self-assurance about his own case. We have left behind the shores of rigid segmentarity. to divert it. his role . our actions and passions. could we succeed in doing so without destroying ourselves.e with which we must manipulate that line. testify to a long labour which is not merely aimed against the State and the powers that be. cracks have replaced the segregations. There is worse to come: it is the supple lines themselves which produce or encounter their own dangers. th �recautions we must take to soften it. to suspend it. to be carried along a supple line. I t i s certainly not sufficient to attain or to trace out a molecular line. while turning us into creatures which are the most fearful. Here again. our regimes of signs.

Many Politics 139 and his m1ss10n. rather.where the luminous and clearly dissected city now shelters only nocturnal troglodytes. . There is as much self-assurance on the farmer's part as certainty on the latter's part. They are not clandestine enough . . or��!!!u�_t !race_ . to take the line of flight or rupture. they install themselves on these lines and make them their property. It is not the marginals who create the lines. and in which the equilibrium of spheres of influence and of great segments intercommunicates with a 'secret capillarity' . the prudence of the experimenter. ' G. micro-fascisms of gangs . There is a molecular speech of madness. which is even more disturbing than the certainties of the first line: the Stalins of little groups. that schizophrenia is the descent of a molecular process into a black hole. First. but it is a disaster when they slip into a black hoie from which they no longer utter anything but the micro-fascist speech of their dependency and their giddiness: 'We are the avant-garde' . and a slight horror. in the end. and this is fine when they have that strange modesty of men of the line. Some have said that we see the schizophrenic as the true revolutionary. 6 And it would be wrong to think that it is sufficient. they scare me. each embedded in his own black hole. local Jaw-givers. 'We are the marginals. a 'social swamp' which exactly com­ p l etes the 'obvious and super-organized society' . or of the drug addict or the delinquent in vivo which is no more valid that the great discourses of a psychiatrist in vitro. ) I t even happens that the two lines are mutually sustaining and that the organization of a more and more rigid segmentarity on the level of great molar wholes enters on to the same circuit as the management of the little fears and of the black holes into which everyone plunges in the molecular network.D. Marginals have always inspired fear i n us. We be­ l ieve. ( NOTE: I n any case. Paul Virilio depicts the world State as it is sketched out today: a State of absolute peace still more terrifying than that of total war. having realized its full identity with the abstract machine.

does the 'metaphor' of war recur so frequently. One can imagine some of these deaths being peaceful and even happy. It is not j ust that lines of flight. indeed. risk being barred . but the extraction of a pure event . And then it has its own danger. Fitzgerald: 'I had the feeling of . floating along the surface of the water. drawn into black holes. this is a function of a danger which is proper to them. Fitzgerald and his destruction. and not of thei r destination . of others and of oneself. Hyperion. the most individual level? Holderlin and the battlefield. but on their own account. the plane of consistence. They have yet another special risk: that of turning into lines of abolition. When they end up with death. Even if all creation comes to an end in its abolition. even if all music is the pursuit of silence. even from writers we like. know where and how to trace it out. but precisely because they are real and in their reality.why does it give us the urge to die? Marie's death-cry. the most steeply sloping. only bring us a death which is relatively dignified and without bitterness? It was not made for that. But. stretched out lengthways. of des­ truction. segmentarized. they cannot be j udged according to their end or their supposed aim. Holderlin and his madness. on its own plane. A passion for abolition.at its own time. How is it that all the examples of lines of flight that we have given. and Lulu's death-cry. the hecceity of a death which is no longer that of a person. which must lead him to suicide. This is o u r main point: why o n lines o f flight. as a result of a danger which they conceal. Kleist: everywhere in his work is the idea of a war-machine against the apparatuses of the State. turn out so badly? Lines of flight turn out badly not because they are imaginary. which was fashioning it from the start. even at the most personal. can the plane of immanence.1 40 Dialogues it out. Virginia Woolf and her disappearance. Kleist and his suicide pact. They turn out badly not j ust because they are short-circuited by the two other lines. qua real. vertical and celestial. Just like music . which is perhaps the worst of all . for they exceed them in all dimensions. but in his own life also is the idea of a war to be waged.

against the imperial sedentary peoples. State power does not rest on a war-machine. Many Politics 14 1 standing in the dusk on an abandoned shooting field . we assume that the war-machine has a nature and origin quite different from that of the apparatus of the State. and not of 'theorems' like Euclid's) . Th� war-machine would have its origin among the nomadic shepherds. Luc de Heusch shows how the war-machine comes from outside. it implies an arithmetical organ��tioo in an open space in which men and animals are distributed. animal-becomings. hurling itself on to an already-developed State which did not include it. The war-machine. on the other hand. 7 In one of his last texts Pierre Clastres explains how the function of war in primitive groups was precisely that of warding off the formation of a State apparatus. In these conditions life has for a long time ceased to be personal and the work has ceased to be literary or textual. Conversely. but on the exercise of binary machines which run through us and the abstract machine which overcodes us: a whole 'police'. when they have adapted the line of flight which makes them the components of the same war-machine. is run through with woman-becomings. as opposed to the geometrical organization of the State which d ivides out a c!�� l!pace ( �en when the war-machine is related to a geometry. as opposed to the 'publicity' of the despot or the man of the State) . the war-machine follows lines of flight and of the steepest gradient. the secret as the invention of the war-machine. a geometry of 'problems'. 8 One might say that the State apparatus and the war-machine do not belong to the same lines. War is certainly not a metaphor. coming from the heart of the steppe or the desert and sinking . Like Felix. it is a quite different ge0metry. Dumezil has often emphasized this eccentric position of the warrior in relation to the State. and even conditions them in so far as it realizes their overcoding. a sort of Archimedean geometry. are not constructed on the same lines : while the State apparatus belongs to the lines of rigid segmentarity. the becom­ ings-imperceptible of the warriror (cf. ' Criticism and the clinic: life and work are the same thing.

To the extent that each time a line of flight turns into a line of death. which mingles with. it is because they cannot be separated from this task of abolition which makes the nomadic empires vanish as if of their own accord. Under these conditions. at the same time as the war­ machine is either destroyed or passes into the service of the State.142 Dialogues into the Empire. but is not identical to. one of the most formidable problems which States will have will be that of integrating the war-machine into the form of an in­ stitutionalized army. the previous dangers. but because it traces. to des­ troy the subjects of the State and even to destroy itself or to dissolve itself along the line of flight. a line of flight or deterritorialization which is at one with its own politics and its own strategy.not merely because it consists in fleeing something. or even in putting the enemy to flight. In short. But there will always be a tension between the State apparatus with its requirement for self-preservation and the war-machine in its undertaking to destroy the State. the line of flight is converted into a line of abolition. we do not invoke an internal impulse of the 'death instinct' type. The war-machine may become mercenary or allow itself to be appropriated by the State to the very extent that it conquers it. It is therefore not metaphorically that each time someone destroys others and destroys himself he has invented on his line of flight his own war-machine: . to make it one with their general police (Tamburlaine is perhaps the most striking example of such a conversion) . Military organization is an organization of flight . The army is never anything but a compromise. each time it is traced by a war-machine. wherever it passes. although everything passes through them. of destruction of others and of itself. to the point that they are like the noumena or the un­ knowable of history.even the one which Moses gave to his people . And that is the special danger of this type of line. If there is no history from the viewpoint of nomads. we invoke another assem blage of desire which brings into play a machine which is objectively or extrinsically definable. Genghis Khan and the emperor of China.

never con­ sists in i nterpreting. the organism which possesses its own binary machines. . since the only question is one of modes of organization . individual or group. every assemblage is already collective. your binary and over­ coding machines? For even these are not given to you ready-made. how can one trace out the line of flight in spite of knowing that it leads us to abolition (suicide pact ) ? To wage one's own war? How otherwise is one to outmanoeuvre this final trap? The differences d�ss between the individual and the collective. we are not simply divided up by binary machines of class. sex or age: there are ot hers which we constantly shift. since centralization is itself an organization which rests on a form of rigid segmentari ty. but every proper name is collective. and what are the dangers on each. Neither do the differences pass between the natural and the artificial since they both belong to the machine and inter­ change there. Nor between the segmentary and the centralized. but merely in asking what are your lines. what are your fluxes and thresholds? Which is your set of relative deterritorializations . for we see no du. all entangled in one another. invent without realizing it. how can one reinvent a new type of war machine ( Michael Kohlhaas) . All Kleist's work rests on the following ob­ servation: there is no longer a war-machine on a grand scale like that of the Amazons.lity between these two types of problem: there is no subject of enunciation. even in its nerves and its brain ? ( 2 ) What are your supple lines. micro-politics itself. the war-machine is no longer any­ thing more than a dream which itself vanishes and gives way to national armies ( the Prince of Homburg) . Fitzgerald 's alcoholic war-machine . . even though they are all immanent to one another. And what are the dangers if we blow up these segments too q uickly? Would n't this kill the organism itself. The effective differences pass between the lines. This is why the question of schizoanalysis or pragmatics. Nor between the spontaneous and the organ­ ized. Many Politics 143 strindberg's conj ugal war-machine. · ( l ) What are your rigid segments.

as long as there is still time. where the thresholds reach a point of adjacence and rupture? Are they still tolerable. THE master. We are not here to keep the tally of the dead and the victims of history. There are bodies without organs which are cancerous and fascist. There are assemblages which have only these sorts of lines. and to draw the conclusion that 'The revolution is impossible. where a beast lurks or a micro-fascism thrives? (3) What are your lines of flight.1 44 Dialogues and correlative reterritorializations? And the distribution of black holes : which are the black holes of each one of us. but we thinkers must think the impossible since the impossible only exists through our thought!' It seems to us that there would never have been the tiniest Gulag if the victims had kept up . There is desire as soon as there is a machine or 'body without organs'. But other dangers stalk each of them. or assemblage is that they only have value in their variables. where the fluxes are combined. How can desire outmanoeuvre all that by managing its plane of immanence and of consistence which each time runs up against these dangers? There is no general prescription . THE rebel . TH E law. or machine. its devices of power. But there are bodies with­ out organs like hardened empty envelopes. but to many practical difficulties each time. of which each of us alone is j udge. an 'overdose' . the martyrdom of the Gulags. The question 'How is it that desire can desire its own repression?' does not give rise to real theoretical difficulty. What is interesting about concepts like desire. because their organic components have been blown up too quickly and too violently. events. We have done with all globalizing concepts. We are not for concepts as big as hollow teeth. or are they already caught up in a machine of destruction and self-destruction which would reconstitute a molar fascism? It may happen that an assemblage of desire and of enunciation is reduced to its most rigid lines. more supple and viscous dangers. and in the maximum of variables which they allow. in black holes or machines of abolition . Even concepts are hecceities.

however. The mistake would be to say: there is a global izing State. in any domain whatever. a force of resistance which will adopt the form of the State even if it entails betraying us. and who give lessons in their name. not their huge appetites. The question of a revolution has never been utopian spontaneity versus State organization . not their bitterness. when confronted by the totalitarian dangers of the State. The victims would have had to think and live in a quite different way to give substance to those who weep in their name. The most centralized State is not at all the master of its plans. not of accounts. or of the tribunal even of the people or of pure thought. and how would it ward off its own fascist dangers. even if it entails being suffocated and beaten every time. The question has always been organizational. its own dangers of destruction in comparison with the conservation of the State? In a certain way it is very simple. whose very impossibility is such a source of pleasure. it is also an ex- . become mod­ ern. their sobriety. or else which will fall into local spontaneous or partial struggles.it would be necessary to evaluate the degree of proximity to this or that pole. When we challenge the model of the State apparatus or of the party organization which is modelled on the conquest of that apparatus. not at all ideological: is an organization possible which is not modelled on the apparatus of the State. we do not. even to prefigure the State to come? Perhaps a war-machine with its lines of flight? I n order to oppose the war-machine to the State apparatus in every assemblage - even a musical or literary one . this happens on i ts own and every day. and who think in their name. and then. It was their life-force which impelled them. But how would a war-machine. fall into the grotesque alternatives: either that of appealing to a state of nature. to a spontaneous dynamic. not their ambition. the master of its plans and extending its traps. or that of becoming the self-styled lucid thinker of an impossible revolution. as Zola would have said . their anorexia. Many Politics 145 the same discourse as those who weep over them today. We have set out to write a book of life.

the extension of capitalism to the whole social body. with a war-machine which would weigh the dangers �hat it en­ countered at each step. . ) . etc. even trade union bureaucracies. looking for the combination of these lines.e xploitation of women. But the abstract machine. B':}ond national States. industrial and technological fluxes. I t is along the different lines of complex assemblages that the powers that be carry out their experiments. is no more infallible than the national States which are not able to regulate them on their own territory and from one territory to another. The State no longer has at its disposal the political.1 46 Dialogues perimenter. What a sad and sham game is played by those who speak of a supremely cunning Master. it is doubtful whether it can eternally rely on the old forms like the police. men take part in the over-. American politics is forced to proceed by empirical injections. the power of multinational companies. incorruptible and 'pessimist' thinkers. At the same time the means of exploitation. the outline of a 'planetary' organization. not at all by apodictic programmes. institutional or even financial means which would enable it to fend off the social repercussions of the machine. armies. it performs injections. tracing out active lines of flight. control and surveillance become more and more subtle and diffuse. the development of a world market. What characterizes our situation is both beyond and on this side of the State. schools. families. it is unable to look into the future: the economists of the S. collective installations. clearly forms a great abstract machine which overcodes the monetary.tate declare themselves in­ capable of predicting the increase in a monetary mass. bureaucracies. but along them also arise ex­ perimenters of another kind. increasing their speed or slowing it down. in order to present the image of themselves as rigorous. with its dysfunctions. thwarting predictions. creating the plane of consistence fragment by fragment. in a certain sense molecular ( the workers of the rich countries necessarily take part in the plundering of the Third World.

affecting principally: ( 1 ) the marking out of territories. back to back. and this is exactly why it is done. of inflation ) . of the army. why not think that a new type of revolution is in the course of becoming possible. about sex. in so far as it is asked. I nstead of gambling on the eternal impos­ sibility of the revolution and on the fascist return of a war­ machine in general. Many Politics 1 47 Enormous land slides are happening on this side of the state. . . ' . All this constitutes what can be called a right to desire. The question of the future of the revolution is a bad question because.resurge not only as archaisms. ) . (2) the mechanisms of economic subj ugation (new characteristics of un­ employment. . ethnic. or youth . Everything is played in uncertain games.linguistic. following lines of gradient or of flight. are combined and trace out a plane of consistence which undermines the plane of organ­ ization of the World and the States?9 For. (3) the basic regulatory frameworks (crisis of the school. and that all kinds of mutating. regional. ( 4) the nature of the demands which become qualitative as much as quantitative ('quality of life' rather than the 'standard of living' ) . to impede the question of the revolutionary-becoming of people. . of trade unions. but in up-to-date revolutionary forms which call once more into question in an entirely immanent manner both the global economy of the machine and the assemblages of national States. of women . once again. the world and its States are no more masters of their plane than revolutionaries are condemned to the deformation of theirs. 'front to front. at every level. there are so many people who do not become revolutionaries. in every place. . I t is not surprising that all kinds of minority questions . back to front . living machines conduct wars.

Notes

Preface
Translators' note: in English in the original.

Translators ' Introduction
Gilles Dclcuzc and F�lix Guattari, A Thousand Plliuaus, I ntroduction ,
The A thlone Press , 1 98 7 .
2 English translation, London: The Athlone Press, 1 983. ·�
3 English translation, M i n neapolis: U niversity of Minnesota Press, 1 985.
4 English translation, I n troduction to A Thousand Plaltaus, The Athlone
Press, 1 987.
5 English translation, The Athlone Press, forthcoming.
6 Vi ncennes seminar, 7 March 1 978.
7 Sec ' Rhizome' , translated by Paul Patton , / & C, no. 8, Spring 1 98 1 , p.
50.
8 Sec p. 1 2 7, below.

Chapur 1
Marcel Proust, By Way of Sainu-Beuve, trans. Sylvia Townsend Warner,
London : Chauo & Windus, 1 958, pp. 1 94-5.
2 Fried rich W. Nietzsche, 'Schopenhauer Educator', in Untimeg
Meditations, trans . R. J . Hollingdalc, Cam bridge: Cambridge Univer­
sity Press, 1 983, p. 1 59.
3 Bob Dylan, Writings and Drawings, St Albans: Pan ther, 1 974, pp.
1 68-70.
4 • Translators' note: the three phrases in inverted commas arc in English
in the original .
s• Translators' note: in other words, civil servants.
6• Translators' note: the third essay in his Untimeg Meditations, op. cit.
7 • Translators' note: as described on p. xii, the French mot d'ordre is
usually translated as 'slogan' . I n this context it could be rendered as

1 50 Dialogues

'command ' or 'command fu nction ' . Professor Ddeuze wishes to retain
the con nection with language and expressions such as 'password ' .
s• Translators' note: in English in the origjnal.
9• Translators' note: 'Du &Oti de che<,' . An oblique reference to Proust's Du
Coli dt Che<. Swann, usually translated as 'Swann's Way', but li terally,
'In the direction of Swann ' .
1 0 • Translators' note: Gilles Dcleuze, Di.fflrenct ti Rlpltition, Paris: PUF,
1 968.
1 1 • Translators' note: Michel Foucault, l 'Ordre du Discours, Paris:
Gallimard , 1 97 1 ; translated by R. Swycr as 'The Discourse on
Language', appendix to The A rchaeology of Knowledge, New York: Harper
& Row, 1 972.
12 cf. G . G . Simpson,l 'Evolution ti sa signification, Paris: Payot, 1 95 1 .
13 Henry Miller, Hamlet, Paris: Correa, p . 49.

Chapter 2
cf. The whole analysis of Leslie Fiedler, The Return of the Vanishing
American, London : Jonathan Cape, 1 968.
2 A:a>ynbec, A Study of History, London : Oxford U n iversity Press, 1 972,
pp.'1 32 ff.
3 D. H. Lawrence, Studies in Classic American literature, Harmondsworth :
Penguin, 1 97 1 , pp. 1 46-7 .
4 F . Scott Fitzgerald, The Crack- Up, with other Pieces and Stories,
Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1 965, pp. 52-3.
5 Steven Rose, The Consciow Brain, London: Weidenfcld & Nicolson,
1 973.
5• Translators' note: for a discussion of the key role of the concept of dilirt
in Dcleuzc's work sec Jean-Jacques Lecercle, Philosophy through the
looking-Glass, London : H u tchinson, 1 985, especially Chapter 5.
7 Lawrence, op. cit . , p. 1 40. And on the double turning-away , cf.
Holdcrlin's Remarquts sur Otdipt, with commentaries by Jean Bcaufret,
Paris: UGE, 1 965. And jonas, trans.J . Lindon, Paris: Minuit, 1 955.
8 Jacques Besse, la grandt Paque, Paris: Belfond , 1 969.
9• Translators' note: in English in the original.
10 Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, St Albans: Panther, 1 966, pp. 1 1 0- 1 1 .
1 1 • Translators' note: the phrase Its poetts maudits literally ' the accursed
poets ' ) was coined by Paul Verlaine in 1 884 in a brochure about three
symbolist poets, Mallarme, Rimbaud and Tristan Corbiere.
12 Lawrence, op. cit . ; cf. the whole chapter on Whitman, which opposes
sympathy to identification .
13 Henry Miller, Stxw, St Albans: Panther, 1 970, p. 1 9.
1 4• Translators' note: in English in the original.

5 c( the famous case of PresidC'nt Schreber and the verdict which grants him his rights. White's study of the stirrup and the feudal system. Paris: Mouton. L . Traduit du silence. New York : Random House . London : Hu tchinson. 1 946. I . 7 cf. Paris: Cercle du livre. Harmondsworth : Pen­ guin. 1 979. Professor Deleuze has suggested the following note as explanation of the term : 'Haecceitas is a term frequently used in the school of Duns Scot us. shows that psychoanalysis has evolved from thC' private relationship and that i t perhaps en tered the 'social ' sector very much earlier than has been though t . Paris: Gallimard. river. Dobb. p. 1 97 3 . A.] 6 cf. in Thi Policing of Families. [Translators' note: the reference is to Freud's essay. A. Paris: Gallimard . nor of a person.Case Histories II. . a curious text of J . day or even hour of the day ) . 80. 9• Translators' note: 'hecceity' i s a term from scholastic philosophy which is sometimes rendered as 'thisnC'ss ' . 19 Joe Bosquet. 1 980. translated by Alan ShC'ridan. see M . not ably in L 'Espace littirairt. R. 1 973. Bennett . note' 1 8. Paris: Gerard . L. 21 On all these problems. and us Capita/es. 20 cf. Dillard's boo k on Black English . And on the problem of languages in Sou th Africa. li terally. ' Psychoanalytic Notes on an Autobiographical Account of a Case of Paranoia ( Demen tia Paranoides ) ' . p. in order to designate the individuation of beings . And Blanchot's wonderful discussions of the event . M iller in Omicar. 2• Translators' note: in English in the original. Deleuze uses it in a more special sense: in the sense of an individuation which is not that of an object. 4 Serge Leclaire. J . seC' Breyten­ bach. but rather of an event ( wind. 1 8* Translators' note: manqut-a-itre is a neologism created by Lacan which means. Paris: Bourgois. trans. Dlmasquer k ritl. Ce qut jung a vraiment dit. 22* Translators' note: i n English in the original . Chapter 3 E. Paris: Seuil. 16 cf. Hurley. 1 97 1 . 1 979. 'lack-to-be'. chapters I and 3. Lacan himself has suggested 'want to be' as an English rendering: see his Tlit Four Fundammtal Concepts of Psycho-Analysis. Notes 151 15 c( the remarks of Fran�ois Regnault in thC' Preface' to the translation of Baladin du mondt octidmtal. 8 Jacques Donzelot . Robert Castel. 3 * Translators' note: see C hapter 2. Tecluwlogit midilvale ti transformations sociaks. Feu Froid. 1 97 2 . 28 1 .u Psychanalysme. London : Routledge. 35. Studies in the Dewlopmtnl of Capital­ ism . no. Harmondsworth: Penguin. p. LC' Graph«'. ed . in Vol ume 9 of the Pel ican Freud Library. 1 976. 1 955. I 7 * Translators' note: in English in the original. Paris: Fran�ois Maspero.

' IO Hccceity . to take the history of medicine as one example. 19 Louis Wolfson. On tht Marionette Theatre. Paris: Gallimard. Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press. Tours. cit. Philosophy through tht looking-Glass. 1968 ( and the way in which Kierkegaard. Paris: Gallimard . 1 972. 27-3 1 . the article of Roland Barthcs on Schumann. in the way i t challenges t h e interruptions that pleasure would like t o introduce into it. . I could tell you. and the commentaries ofj . op. 1 964. l 'Espact tt It regard. philosophers and physicists . gives a good analysis of this plane of immanence of courtly love. op. Lyotard. 16 Jean Paris. Sociolinguistic Pattnns . Labov.1 52 Dialogues Dclcuzc's thesis is that all individuation is in fact of this type. Paris: Bourgois. li terally. as far as we know. 1 96 1 . discours. 1 965. 18 Pierre Guiraud. [Trans­ lators' note: this book has an introduction by Dcleuzc. Brill. In a quite different assemblage. 2 Scott Fi tzgerald. Paris: Scuil . Kierkegaard. Fear and Trembling. For a discussion of Wolfson sec Lcccrcle. ] 20 The only book to pose this q uestion. Tht Machineries ofJoy. Lawrence. latitude . 14 D . . pp. 1 9 7 7 . Van Gulik. H . Paris: Minuit. ou It gai savoir dt la basocht. trans. A. 38-9. ' Rasch' . p . 22 Nathalie Sarraute. Sexual lift in Ant:Nnt China. S t Albans: Panther. Economit libidinalt. 1 963. 21 • Translators' note: the French word rlgimt can be translated as 'diet' as well as 'regime' . J . i n l 'Erotiqut dts Troubadours. 17 cf. 3 S. Paris: PUF. to be that of Cruchet. the crucial book of W . 1 970. 13 Rene Nellie. We are entirely i n their debt in this respect. Lt &hi�o ti Its langues. Chapter 4 I Kleist. l 'Ere du souPfon.-F. cit . 52. Lt Testament dt Yillon. 1 970. 290. sociili. in language. 11 cf. similar utterances and techniques arc to be found in Taoism for the construction of a plane of immanence of desire ( cf. mummy'. 'Oh. Paris: Gallimard . a line from a French nursery rhyme.arc excellent medieval con­ cepts. Leiden: E. 1 974) . p. whose analysis was taken as far as possible by certain theologians. R. 1 970.and also longit ude. Seu ii. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press . This is the thesis developed in Millt Plateaux wi th Felix Guattari . 2 1 8 ff. Walter Lowrie. Eros et Its chins. Dt la mithodt dt la midtcint. 1 2• Translators' note: the original is. 15 Malcolm Bradbury. pp. even if we use these concepts in a different sense. p p . seems.

1 97 1 . and Myllrl ti Epop«. Volume I I . Paris: Gallimard. Felix Guattari. Luc du Heusch. 8 Pierre Clastres. Paris: PUF. li/Jre. 1 969. in Lt Montk. Paris: J ulliard. Heur el mallllllr da geurrin. 1 976. Paris: Recherches. no. Notes 1 53 in relation to movement. Paris: Stock. 1 976. 5 Pierrette Fleutiaux. 6 Paul Virilio. Paris: Payot. 'La Guerre dans les socictes. 4 Fernand Deligny. Recherches no. 'La Grande I llusion'. Hisloirt da gouffie ti di la l1111l1 lt. 9 On all these points cf. . 1 975. sketches a series of scripts which already belong to the cinema) . Lt roi im ou l'origint di l 'Etat. Essm sur l 'insicurili da ltrritoire. I . 7 Georges Dumhil. Paris: Gallimard. 1 8. 'Cahiers de l'immuable' .

.

Georges 47 De Heusch. Samuel 4. Pierre 94 Bron te. 1 03 Chauvin. Pierre 93 Gide. William R. Valery 1 3 1 22. Castel. Michel 1 1 . 1 32 Clastres. 1 55 . 1 1 5 Godard. 85. Michel 1 6 Barthes. J acques 4 1 Descartes. 65. Maurice 73 Dylan. F . Ferdinand Destouches) 32 80-2 . 69. Avram Noam 1 4. 1 25. 74 De Troyes. 1 4. Pierre 1 4 1 Goethe. 1 43 1 19 Fleutiaux. Scott 36. 1 1 . 84. Bob 7-8 Boulez. Chretien 74 Bergson. Roland 1 1 5--6 De Broglie. 1 �9. Andre 68 Chomsky. 38. Edouard Gatian von 95 de 1 1 3 Guattari . Robert 84 87. Antonin 89 C ressole. 24-5. Pierre 1 30 Castaneda. John 94 Fi tzgerald. 1 0. Lewis 49. Giscard d' Estaing. 73. Henri 1 5 Deligny. 7 7-8. Remy 2 Chevalier. Stephen 64 Artaud . Ferdinand 1 2 Columbus. Rene 1 4 Blanchot. Louis 67 Bataille. 1 40. 97. Carroll. Charlotte 93. Index Alq uie.7 . 45. 9. Johann Wolfgang Clerambault. Fernand 1 2 7-8 Besse. 1 20 Epicurus 3 1 -2 Burroughs. Luc 1 4 1 Beckett. 1 8 Euclid 87. Sigmund viii. Christopher 4 1 Archimedes 1 4 1 Crane. 30. Jean-Luc 4. 1 4 1 Cage. Carlos 48 Foucault. Felix ix. 1 29 Celine ( pseudonym of Louis Freud.

1 3 . 56 45. 1 34.1 . 23 M asoch Heusch. Sartre. Howard Phillips Schiller. Baron 1 1 9. Hofmannsthal. 95 Marx . 43. Ezra 22 Kerouac. Baron See De Heusch. 38-9. 1 20-2 Kafka. H e n ry x. 95. 1 40 Miller.Jean-Paul 1 2. 38. 1 22-3. George 36 Mumau. 3 2 . 68. Heinrich von 3 1 . Herman 36. Martin 1 2. 75 44. Melanie viii. 93. Bertrand 1 5 Labov.1 56 Index 25. Steve 33 1 3 1 . Carl Gustav 80 1 5-6.1 Proust. I O I . Paul 32 Hyppolite. Luc de See Sacher-Masoch. 9 1 . 1 4 1 Luca. 75. 50. 1 4. 1 3 7 Holderlin . 83. Jean 1 2 Mozart. 1 40. Franz 4. 5 7 49-50. Reich. 50. Robert 1 08 Nietzsche. 90. I 02 . Kay 1 1 0 Pound. 8 1 Russell. 3 1 -2 . Loyola. 30. 53 H usserl. 1 2 7 Saussure. 73. 7 1 . 39-40. 73 Jackson. Robert 98-9. 42. 1 1 0 James. David 1 5. 3 1 . L. 36. Thomas 36. Leclaire. Seren 1 2 7 1 1 9-20. 1 29 Paris. Edmund 1 2 Morand. Friedrich 6. 38. 48-9. 1 9 Lucretius 1 5 Hardy. Friedrich von 95 42. H . 24-5. D .W. C . H ugo von 44. Jack 36. 79. 42. 1 1 9-23. Melville. F. 48-9. 1 23 Lawrence. 1 43 Renan. Michelet. Georg Wilhelm McLuhan. J . 53. J u ng. 24-5. Wolfgang Amadeus 3. 62. j . 1 22 Kleist. Andre 27 Lovecraft. 95. Joseph Ernest 69 Klein. 1 35 Heidegger. Gherasim 4. 54. 98-9. 30. 1 04. 50. C . 86 1 15 Lindon . Lacan. 3 6 . Friedrich 95. Marcel 5. 50 Hegel. J ules 3 7 1 07. 33. 43. Jean 1 1 4 Kendall. 1 1 5. Marshall 2 7 Friedrich 1 2. 1 22 Sch umann. William 1 1 6-7 Sacher-Masoch. Ignatius 1 1 6 1 1 9. 1 38. 43-6. Jacques 82 1 2 1 . Ferdinand de 1 4. Jerome 1 08 Scala. Karl/Marxism 1 4. 74. 1 1 6. 76. Kierkegaard. Serge 83. 24. H ume. 66. Henry 48 Jaulin.

M . Toynbee. U riel 1 1 6 Stevenson. Emile 1 45 . 92. Rene 6 7 Wolfson . Index 1 57 Sch umann. Wah l . I 02 Virilio. 60-2. 36. 59. William 4 1 -2 Spinoza. 1 1 7 Tinguely. Alfred North 1 5 Synge. 1 40 Villon.1 . Thomas 36 Thom . Louis 64. 43 . 1 22. Fran�ois 1 1 7 Zola. J . Paul 1 39 Shakespeare. Virginia 30. 38. 50. 24--5 . Walt 62 Wolfe. Jean 1 04 Woolf. 58 Whitman. 1 20 Weinreich. Bened ict 1 5-6. Arnold joseph 3 7 50. J ean 58 32. Robert Louis 36 �hitehead . I I O. 95. Clara 98. 1 20.