April 18, 1972
Deterritorialization of wealth in its capitalist form means that wealth is no longer understood except as a function of any production activity and no longer as a function of a determined element which would be land or which would be the state and the movement to deterritorialize desire, which no longer allows itself to be measured either by its objects, its goals, or its sources. Only here, we must immediately add a second point: Barely has the political economy done that, and … it must be said at the same time, at the same time as that it does that, it does something else too . … which is what? There too, we must follow, it seems to me, this idea from Marx regarding political economy, this activity of producing or of undetermined work, this abstract work, this deterritorialized work, hardly does the political economy discovers this than, Marx tells us, [the economy] realienates it.
Seminar Introduction
The opening seminars at Vincennes (1970-71 & 1971-72) not only provided a site for the ground work from which Anti-Oedipus emerged, but also the transitional discussions with which the long sequence of ‘plateaus’ would be developed. As Deleuze indicates in the opening seminar, he had already spent the 1970-71 academic year outlining the ongoing collaboration with Félix Guattari. Thus, with the book’s publication quite imminent (appearing in early 1972), these sessions allow Deleuze to refine the ongoing developments with Guattari, most notably concerning the tasks of schizoanalysis and the intersection of the fields of political economy and psychoanalysis, as well as the continuing dominant and oppressive impact of this intersection both on society and subjectivity. Note that Deleuze and Guattari had only published one essay derived from this ongoing collaboration, titled ‘La synthèse disjonctive’, in L’Arc 43 (on Klossowski), 1970, 54-62, but with the publication of Anti-Oedipus, numerous interviews will appear in 1972, notably in L’Arc 49 (on Deleuze) and in La Quinzaine littéraire 143 (16-30 June 1972).
English Translation
While the transcript of this final session of seminar 1 is divided into two specific parts, the second section (bearing the title “The body without organs”) seems incomplete given its brevity. With Deleuze returning to session 6’s discussion of Marx’s analysis of bourgeois political economy and to analyses from sessions 7 and 8, this session serves in many ways as a review of the intersections between psychoanalysis and political economy, hence material corresponding to both to chapters I and III of Anti-Oedipus. Following Marx, Deleuze says that a new form of realienation occurred for economy, within conditions of private property, i.e. wealth as the generalized activity of production detached from any object, and subjective essence realienated in a system of subjective representation for desire. The coordinates for desire determined as libido are within the familial act, specifically Oedipal coordinates, suggesting that in this shift, psychoanalysts created an entirely ambiguous relationship with myth and tragedy, a new reterritorialized form emerging either as the bourgeois family or bourgeois private property. Deleuze outlines two steps in this process: on one hand, human beings that furnish a labor force gain an abstract equality insofar as such individuals and the family gain a theoretically equal value from the perspective of capital’s reproduction. On the other hand, social reproduction creates an overlap between economic and political figures and specifically familial figures. Under the capitalism’s axiomatic, psychoanalysis becomes the necessary application corresponding to capitalism’s political economy, three aspects of which Deleuze outlines. Deleuze concludes this first part of the session by considering how psychoanalysis reveals its own ambition of constituting its own axiomatic, at once in direct relation to the real, but also breaking with political economy. In the brief final section, Deleuze returns to discuss the body without organs as an intensive matrix, crisscrossed by flows, notably delirium crossing thresholds of intensity and between thresholds. He then begins to outline this process on four kinds of body without organs (masochistic, addicted, schizophrenic, hysterical). For the masochist body, the intensity is that of pain; for the addicted body, the intensity is that of cold and heat; as for the schizo and hysterical bodies, Deleuze seems to liken these to the egg’s systems of coordinates, and he closes this final fragment with discussion of the intensive grids and flows of the egg’s topology.
Gilles Deleuze
Anti-Oedipus I, 1971-1972
Lecture 9: April 18, 1972
Transcript: WebDeleuze, modified by Charles J. Stivale
Translation: Billy Dean Goehring
Marx-Freud; Capitalism; Despotism-Axiomatics
Part I
In his attempt to pin down the birth of bourgeois political economy, Marx is very clear: he claims that bourgeois political economy was established as soon as wealth was no longer linked to an external objective element, to an extrinsic objective element, but [became tied] to subjective activity as such, i.e., not to any determinate objectity but to indeterminate subjective activity.[1] See, Marx says, there was no political economy in the way we mean it now; there was the analysis of wealth, and the analysis of wealth fundamentally comes down to relating wealth to some determinate objectity; it varies. This determinate objectity is the earth [terre].[2] For mercantilists, wealth is essentially tied to a determinate objectity, the state, as the distributor of money.
Now, we have to pay attention to what Marx is saying: there was no political economy. When does political economy come about? It begins as soon as wealth is essentially tied to indeterminate activity, in relation to which no objective element is privileged over any other. That is, it’s when so-called economists begin to distinguish what they call labor, which includes agricultural labor as much as manufacturing or industrial labor… [text missing] defining the general act of producing-whatever, which the field of political economy makes possible. Thus, the tipping point behind political economy involves relating wealth not to any determinate objectity, but to subjective activity, defined as general production. Now, that’s basically what [Adam] Smith and [David] Ricardo do. But I’m wondering whether, given this basic assumption concerning the very foundation of political economy, something is at stake in our analysis, though it seems like merely a parallel for the moment.[3]
Now, in the same way, or in an analogous way, what stands out in Freud’s early work? It’s a completely analogous kind of shift. Namely, just as political economy hinges on the revelation that the essence of wealth no longer lies in any determinate objectity but is based on a general subjective activity—production—the reversal Freud carries out in terms of desire is analogous.[4] Perhaps it’s the only circumstance in which desire’s fundamentally unconscious nature could come to light, i.e., when desire is associated with a general subjective activity, a general productivity, which Freud will name—highlighting the originality of his discovery—will name the libido.
And, just at the surface-level of the text, what’s so striking about his Three Essays? In particular, it’s how Freud demonstrates that desire, as libido, cannot be identified with just any objects, cannot be identify with just any sources, cannot be identified with just any goals—as if the libido, as subjective activity, held the key to the objects it selected, the sources it channeled through, and the goals it intended. So, in that respect, in the same way that, in the context of political economy, wealth gets linked to general productive activity instead of being linked to an objectity, the essence of desire will from the very beginning—and this might be the very start of psychoanalysis, and it’s why the Three Essays portrays a kind of contingency in its sources, a kind of contingency in its objects, a kind of contingency in its aim within sexuality, in the realm of sexuality—it all ties back to so-called libidinal production, an activity producing symptoms, deviations, perversions.
In this respect, it seems to me that we’re looking at is still merely a parallel; we have to ask ourselves what makes them similar, whether it isn’t anything more than that. At the same time, it’s already something more. How so? Why does it already feel like it’s more than that? I see it as fundamental, but the sign that psychoanalysis—as much as political economy—belongs to the world of… [text missing] namely, that when we locate the essence of wealth in a subjective activity beyond objects, beyond aims, beyond entities, beyond objectities, that’s only the aftershock of the most deep-rooted process of the capitalist domain, the movement of deterritorialization. The deterritorialization of the capitalist form of wealth, whereby wealth is now only understood as a function of any-and-all productive activity and no longer as a function of some determinate element, neither the earth nor the state, and the process of deterritorializing desire, which can no longer be reduced to its objects, goals, or sources.
But we should immediately add that, right after that happens with political economy—we shouldn’t even say “right after,” we ought to say “as soon as”— as soon as that happens, something else takes place. As soon as it breaks ties with objectities, as soon as it lays bare a general form of productive activity, there’s something else that takes place. What? Here again, I think, we should pay attention to how Marx develops this with respect to political economy, this idea of productive activity or indeterminate labor, abstract labor, deterritorialized labor—no sooner than it gets discovered by political economy, it gets alienated again. Only look, he’s very explicit—don’t worry about the concept of alienation; Marx’s point is that this re-alienation doesn’t entail returning to a form of objectity. It’s a completely new form of alienation. Instead of alienating the activity of production into something—the earth, the state—such that its activity cannot be grasped, cannot even be perceived or made out, right, instead of alienating it as a thing, as an objectity, as the state of a thing, just as the activity of production comes to light, it gets re-alienated as an act, and not at all as a state. Thus, it’s not a return to how things were before; what gets re-alienated is the act itself.
And when it’s re-alienated as an act, what form does that take? It is re-alienated under the conditions of private property. And that strikes me as crucial because private property doesn’t show up in Marx as some new objectity in the world of capitalism, but as the form of a new type of alienation, alienation in action, as opposed to alienation as the state of something. Which, I think, amounts to saying that political economy simultaneously cuts ties with major objective representations, representations of the earth, the state. Thanks to this rupture, the essence of wealth is revealed to be general productive activity, subjective activity that cannot be reduced to an object. At the same time, this subjective essence is re-alienated in a completely different way—not circling back to a state of things, but a re-alienation in action. That is, it gets re-alienated not in some new objective representation but instead through systems of subjective representation. And the system of subjective representation is that of private property.
At this stage, so far, so good; all the more reason, I think, to explore the seeming parallel situation in psychoanalysis. I mean, all you need to do is change the words; that’s all we’re doing. Why are the situations so aligned, and why is it more than a mere similarity? All one has to do is swap some words out to see this play out in psychoanalysis. Namely, how at the same time as he cuts ties with the system of objective representation linking desire to extrinsic elements, to objects, to aims, Freud actually reveals its subjective essence as the libido. But at the same time, he re-alienates—not as another state of things, but as something equivalent to private property, something that certainly isn’t identical. We’ll have to say how they’re related, what the realm of subjective representation will be when it comes to desire, just as private property was the realm of subjective representation for labor-production. This time, desire’s essence, understood as libido—which cannot be understood in terms of objects, in terms of its aims, in terms of its sources—will get re-alienated in action, in the act itself, i.e., in family actions. And its system of subjective representation will be represented through oedipal coordinates.
Hence it seems to me that, literally, without forcing anything, it’s the same development, the same discovery, and the discovery is used in the same way—whether it’s the revelation that wealth essentially belongs to a subject as general production, which is subsequently re-alienated as an activity in terms of private property, or whether it’s the Freudian revelation that desire, as subjective activity, can only be understood as libido, beyond the objects and aims of desire, which is immediately re-alienated—not as a state of things but as an activity, using the coordinates of the family. It’s the same story. What I’d like to emphasize, then, is: in both the economic discovery and the psychoanalytic discovery, there’s simultaneously something irreducible, something specific, as well as something non-specific. There’s a real cut-off, and there’s a way to recover what’s been cut off. And yet, the rupture is there—I’m referring to psychoanalysis’s extremely ambiguous attitude towards the whole subject of myth and tragedy.
I say “ambiguous” because, from a certain perspective, there’s a profound disconnect between psychoanalysis and mythology, and then from another point of view, there are attempts to invoke or reinvoke an approach to mythology, one that purports to be new and purports to be incommensurable to the way, to the way experts think about mythology. I mean, why do we get the feeling that ethnologists or Hellenists and psychoanalysts seem to be constantly talking past one another? Both their approaches are actually irreducible. How does a Hellenist approach a myth? As a historian, they bring myths back to some underlying objectity, which the myth expresses in a particular way… [text missing] With psychoanalysis, they don’t believe in myths or tragedies. Myths and tragedies are never linked to any objectity whatsoever because that’s beside the point for analysis. Myths aren’t correlated to the earth’s demands; tragedies aren’t correlated to the despot’s demands. In other words, psychoanalysis doesn’t treat myth and tragedy as objective representations to be understood as referring back to their corresponding objectities.[5]
What do they do? While there is a real critique of myth and tragedy, and they are devalued in an odd sort of way, at the same time, there is—in a completely different way, not at all contradictory—at the same time, there’s a curious revalorization of myth and tragedy because, rather than taking them to be objective representations that ought to be understood by way of some objectity holding the key to the society in question, psychoanalysis treats myth and tragedy as subjective representations fully capable of expressing the subjective essence of desire, of the libido. And I think that’s why, in the history of psychoanalysis, there’s this strange ambivalence regarding myth and tragedy, this two-faced impression we get that varies from period to period: there’s a long period where psychoanalysts made major inquiries into myth, into tragedy. And then we also sense how Freud sort of takes back over, especially given his break with Jung, where some doubt is cast on psychoanalytic interpretations of myth and tragedy.
I think we need to pay attention to what’s going on here in order to understand this double aspect: they devalue myth and tragedy specifically because desire is no longer tied to some big objectities that might have shown up through myths and tragedies. At the same time, they revalorize and take myth and tragedy further than ever before, because before, they were associated with objectities that governed how they were used and interpreted. Now, with psychoanalysis, myth and tragedy sort of take on the capacity to fully express the universality of the libido, since they’re understood as subjective representations corresponding to the libido-as-production. So that, at some level, we find a kind of false belief in psychoanalysis. Psychoanalysis will come running back to, in a modified form—we might call it a form of denial—to everything that was once believed: Oedipus, the earth, everything is brought back.
In other words, to make a long story short, they leave behind objective representation—whether it’s economists or psychoanalysts. They discover subjective activity, and they reestablish a new form of representation, subjective representation itself. They tie it back down, i.e., in the terms I used before, no sooner than they uncover a deterritorialized essence, deterritorialized desire, one no longer tied to any objectity, deterritorialized labor—as soon as it gets revealed, it gets reterritorialized, only it doesn’t simply go back. They reterritorialize it in a new way: either under the conditions of the bourgeois family or the conditions of bourgeois private property.
If what I’m saying is true, in short, that there appears to be a parallel situation with what happens in economics and what happens in psychoanalysis—if that’s really the case, why? Why both processes? Why was productive activity discovered twice, once as labor and again as desire? And not only why it came up twice, but why were they re-alienated into subjective representations—on the one hand, private property, on the other, the family? Why these two moments? It seems to me that we ought to look for our answer in the structure of capitalism itself.
Generally speaking, what stands out as specifically characteristic of capitalism? I believe it’s that there’s a certain disconnect between social production and, if you will, between the form of social production and the form of human production. Why? With objectities, social production is never independent from a social form of human reproduction as such. What I mean is that the way in which wealth is reproduced is never independent of the categories of human production, i.e., the two basic categories of human production: alliance and descent [filiation]. And it goes through a social machine, a machine conjugating alliances and lines of descent—never deriving alliances from descent, obviously. Alliance is never derived from a kinship system [un régime filiatif]; the two are conjugated within a social machine, which can vary quite a bit. The need for social reproduction to depend on the form of human reproduction is evidenced precisely by this machine conjugating alliances and lines of descent. In other words, wealth is reproduced in a series of relationships determined by how humans are reproduced.
Which is why under such conditions, the family, however we’re considering the family, is really a strategy investing the entire social field, whether as the most basic family, conjugating alliances and lines of descent, or later as big empires, where we get fundamental categories indicating a shift, such a crucial shift—however, that’s not what I’m getting at, which is that a despotic form of society brings with it categories that originate new alliances and, therefore, a new kind of descent.
The despot is really the new alliance type. He’s someone who tells his people, “I bring you a new covenant [alliance].” In any case, the form of human reproduction then completely changes, which is clear when we look at the type of dynasty (see the Chinese). Really, the dynasty comes down to a new alliance—their differences here don’t matter—under another lens; the fundamental difference is that between primitive forms of alliance and descent and the new alliance. But at this juncture, that doesn’t matter; at any rate, social reproduction involves a determinate form of human reproduction, a determinate form concerning alliances and lines of descent.
In capitalism, there’s a clear departure from both primitive contexts, i.e., territorial systems, and from imperial systems, and for one simple reason: money-capital takes charge of both descent and alliance. Lines of descent and alliances now fall under capital and become its immediate properties. They don’t really need to go through humans anymore. Strike that—there is a need for humans, but in a very different way from before. As I’ll explain in a moment, humans will be necessary as a resource [matériau], which effectively means that descent falls under capital as a bona fide filiative capital [capital filiatif].
Now, filiative capital is well accounted for in Marx: it’s the production of surplus value. How is money able to produce money? The way money produces money in the capitalist system, under capitalist conditions, i.e., capital producing surplus value, is what we described earlier as x = Dx, what Marx calls the expansion of money, demonstrating how capital appropriates descent, as industrial capital. Previously, I tried to show how, on the other hand, as opposed to industrial capital, market capital is alliance capital, without which capitalist industry would not function, which determines, which has a determinant role in relation to industrial capital. Market capital is the form in which capital really is alliance capital.
Well, alliance and descent are no longer determinations of human reproduction and are now determinations whereby money produces money and allies itself with money. Henceforth, I understand that, as with any system, there de facto need to be guys in capitalism. Social reproduction no longer presupposes a form of human reproduction. In other words, everything’s as though what capitalism basically does is take human reproduction and its form—the form of human reproduction as in the most general sense of the word “family”—out of the social domain. At the same time, of course, there is a need for guys. What do I mean by that?
Here again, that’s not to say it returns to an earlier stage, but it means that human reproduction continues to have a form. In the capitalist regime it’s the form of the family, but on its own, as human reproduction, it’s no more than resource material for the application of the reproduction of capital, which has its own form, i.e., it’s the material that gets applied to. Which is what? Of course, this resource material has its own form; there’s a form of the material. In the capitalist system, the form of the material of human reproduction is the family. But the form of social reproduction no longer involves the form of this material; the family’s only function is to inform, to give a form to human reproduction, a form subordinate to the autonomous form of social reproduction.
Where does that leave us, then? It seems we ought to distinguish between two stages. When it comes to capitalist regimes, the form of social reproduction must be applied to a resource of human reproduction, that is, families or human reproduction must provide human beings whose place it will not determine by itself but will determine based on how the family is situated within social reproduction, i.e., you have your capital, you have your labor power. It’s inevitable, then, that capitalism fosters a certain abstract equality. Precisely because the form of human reproduction is, as it were, removed from the social field, with social reproduction taking other means and having its own form in capital itself. And for this very reason, the family can be thought of abstractly as the production of individuals who, in the abstract, are all equal since they receive their social standing, their basic social inequality, from the other form of reproduction, social reproduction as such, i.e., the reproduction of capital.
But then, at the same time—and this is what I find so crucial—this social reproduction must in some way be applied, the form of social reproduction must in some way be applied to the form of human reproduction. A system of correspondence must be established between the form of social reproduction, whose secret lies in the ownership of capital, and the extrinsic form of human reproduction, determined as a family in the capitalist world. So that social reproduction no longer goes through human reproduction; it’s assumed its own form, obtained a form of its own. But at the same time, it bears witness to a fundamental need, based on what we’ve just seen, to apply itself to the form of human reproduction itself. And it involves the political-economic figures of the social field sort of reflecting [une espèce de rabattement] onto the family roles particular to the family field. Namely, in the social political-economic field, we have the capitalist, the banker, the industrialist, the worker—and in familial reproduction, we have the father, the mother, and the child. And precisely because the form of social reproduction no longer involves the form of human reproduction but instead finds in the form of human reproduction a mere form for its own resource material, the first man, social reproduction, is reflected [se fait un rabattement] onto the figures of human reproduction. So, here, it’s clear why this double ligature is necessary: that once subjective activity is shown to be production, that this subjective activity is revealed once to be production recoded, represented in the context of private property, i.e., a subjective system of representation, and once again in the family, and that moreover, the determinations of the social field get applied to the determinations of the family.
In other words, if the axiomatics of capitalism fully emerged with the bourgeois political economy of the 19th century, psychoanalysis is its application, the necessary and inevitable application of such an axiomatic. Psychoanalysis is the application of the axiomatic corresponding to the political economy of capitalism. Which means that, in a sense—and this is where I’d like to stop—we can delineate three aspects I find most the most crucial when it comes to the idea of axiomatics:
The first is what’s radically distinct about axiomatics, since an axiomatic doesn’t work the same way code does. Why doesn’t it work like a code? Because codes refer labor and desire to underlying objectities, be it a territorial system, a despotic system… [text missing] whereas an axiomatic is a system of relations representing a subjective activity, a fundamentally deterritorialized activity. Which harks back to our hypothesis from the start of the year, that when flows are decoded—which is one of the processes of decoding—well, when flows are decoded, an axiomatic is substituted for a code; instead of a code, a system of differential relationships between decoded flows. So there’s something specific, something radically different about axiomatics in comparison to the process of code itself. And again, what I find so striking about what we today refer to as genetic code is—I think it can be demonstrated that it both has parts that are code-related as well as parts that are completely different, that are axiomatic. The concept of genetic code is totally mixed together, thus there’s a specificity to axiomatics. Which basically means yes, axiomatics describes subjective activity that’s revealed to be indeterminate, breaking with the big objectities that sought to code it.
At the same time, secondly, in a way, like a shadow theater, axiomatics returns us to everything codes had led us to believe. Only the way we come back to them is something different from belief. A mode of images where there’s no need to believe; who cares if you don’t believe in them? Regardless, that’s how it is. A very interesting sort of world that no longer needs belief but still requires lifeless images of whatever used to be believed. Nietzsche was the only one to profoundly see that, when he defined the man of… [word missing] as a “motley painting of everything that’s been believed,” the last of the popes. It doesn’t make any difference because it no longer needs to be addressed, no longer needs to be believed; it doesn’t need belief to function. It runs on images produced via an axiomatic of flows. Right, I said that axiomatics somehow brings everything back—why? Because, in the form of subjective representation, it brings us back to all the instances that were dethroned as objectities. The insistence of the great despot, which returns with Oedipus, and territorial insistence, which returns in every capitalist reterritorialization—which certainly isn’t the objectity of the earth as it appeared in territorial systems of alliance and descent but is the sort of artificial territoriality fundamental to the capitalist system.
And so, approaching it in the first way, which I talked about before, there’s absolutely something unique about axiomatics; in no way can it be confused for a code or coding process. Coming at it in the second way, I’d say the opposite, but it’s perfect, [it’s] the same way but without being unique, because it’s always getting torn between two poles: escape on one end, getting choked out on the other. With its escape, as we’ve seen from the very beginning, it’s that flows get decoded, completely deterritorialized. But axiomatics avoids that by establishing a whole system of enunciable relationships between coded flows, a new type of relationship, which is what axiomatics is all about, i.e., a system of differential relationships. Thus, at one end, you have its escape, but at the same time, it cuts things off—and how does it cut it off? Again, not by reverting to its prior code of objective representation, but by re-alienating, re-attaching, re-ligating anything that’s about to escape—by creating the ligatures again, this time at the level of subjective representation itself. And at the level of subjective representation, there will be an internalized despot, an internalized earth.
Which allows me to say that, on the one hand, axiomatics absolutely cannot be reduced to any code, to any code whatsoever, insofar as code, again, is what refers labor and desire to objectities. On the other hand, axiomatics lacks any specificity because it always oscillates between two poles, escaping at one end and, at the other end, resurrecting old bodies to counter its escape—this time not as a fictitious element, but as an element of subjective representation. Through this lens, it’s not contradictory to say that, simultaneously, there is both something absolutely specific to axiomatics and, at the same time, that it’s constantly torn between its two extremes, between a new way of resurrecting old instances and its escape.
And finally, as the third aspect of axiomatics, having described it in its specificity as well as its two poles, it absolutely needs—both with regard to its specificity and in order to avoid its tendency to escape—what it truly [needs] is to be applied. Insofar as it governs or expresses the laws of social production in the capitalist regime, it’s vitally necessary that it be applied to the form of human reproduction, in the form of the family. In other words, I don’t think it’s any coincidence that political economy, defined as the science of economics under capitalism, requires an exercise in its application, a sort of accessory—psychoanalysis, in particular, as its application. As an application, the trajectory psychoanalysis follows is that whereby the entire form of social reproduction is reduced onto [se rabat sur] the form of the family’s reproduction, and it’s only by way of this application that capitalist axiomatics effectively cuts off, is able to stifle the tendency of flows to get away or escape.
Until the day when—and this here is what I’d like to end on—until the day when, assuming that it’s a market, things stop working.[6] No one believes in it anymore. Or this sort of implementation loses its grip, can no longer hold onto its flows. We’ve seen countless reasons why, that is, this sort of re-alienation of desire, applied using the coordinates of the family, no longer works. There’s a generation where the social field is no longer reflected onto that of the family—new men [sic].
What’s going on? I mean, in a way, it’s what psychoanalysis calls malaise. Only, for psychoanalysis, so-called malaise is when, however psychoanalysts refer to it—because it comes in extremely different shades—and say it isn’t even worth trying to figure out what’s behind it because, strictly speaking, there isn’t anything behind it at all. [Serge] Leclaire’s Démasquer le réel [Unmasking the Real]: enough is enough—psychoanalysis should be its own axiomatic. Leclaire’s book strikes me as rather characteristic in this regard, when he says, alright, there’s an uneasiness or malaise in psychoanalysis at the moment [which] cannot be divorced from a process of decentering occurring in the field psychoanalysis operates in. This decentering, he claims, is a genuine shift from the “parent’s room” to the “analyst’s office,” i.e., the psychoanalytic process, strictly speaking, doesn’t require an “intrinsic referent,” as though the parent’s room were still too external. There’s something even worse than the analyst’s office—the (windowless) waiting room.
Now, what I find interesting about an idea like Leclaire’s is that both aspects are there. I mean, there’s the idea that psychoanalysis ought to pin down the real, to win back the real, to put psychoanalysis back in touch with the real, while at the same time, the approach is to make it so that psychoanalysis is no longer a mere inculcation of a different kind of axiomatic, the capitalist axiomatic of the social field. And he concludes that it should become its own axiomatic. In other words, what happens in the analyst’s office, as Leclaire explains, doesn’t need to refer to anything outside of the office itself, what so-called rationalist philosophers have long described as verum index sui—that truth is its own sign, that it doesn’t refer to anything other than itself, and that it can be made out using its own outward characteristics. Which means that castration, Oedipus, and the like, are proven in the psychoanalytic process itself, having a place in none other than the analyst’s office. Having left the parents’ bedroom behind, psychoanalysis ceases to be the application of some other type of axiomatic in order to stand on its own as a true axiomatic. Now, I think this gesture is something of an achievement; psychoanalysis severed its ties with political economy in order to itself become political economy… [End of Part I]
Part II: The Body without Organs
An axiom is an event’s forward momentum. I’d like to try to do a bit of pop philosophy, pop analysis. The body without organs is effectively an intensive matrix. And if it seems like it’s totally closed off, that’s because we can’t look in extension for its potential dynamism. I’m not even sure whether there is any dynamism, but if there is, it isn’t in extension. It’s sewn shut, closed off, it’s without organs. At the same time, something happens upon it. It’s like a surface; there’s something courses over it—a flow, let’s say. Let’s say it’s traversed by an intensive flow, and that it reacts to fluctuations in this flow.
Fluctuations in this flow over the body without organs—which already implicates what I’ve been looking for since last year, which I haven’t made much progress on, since you aren’t helping me. You might say that that already entails the sort of perspective we’re trying to find in all these aspects of delirium, since delirium is what I’m interested in. For me, thought is delirium—it’s the same thing. But precisely what it means to be delirious—and this has been my claim from the start—is to cross thresholds of intensity, to pass the threshold between one intensity and another. In other words, before being delirious, someone with delusions is someone who feels, and to feel means sensing intensive transitions in one’s body without organs. Let’s consider the example of Judge Schreber: no larynx, his stomach eaten away, a body without organs—and on his body without organs, he feels that he’s becoming a woman, he’s crossing into a flow… [text missing]
We’ve come to a domain of purely sensible experimentation, and I’m thinking of three bodies, or four—the masochist, schizophrenic, addicted, hysterical—they’re so many approximations for the limit of the body without organs, a pure limit each of them is distinguished from. And yet, they all tend towards one same limit. How are they all distinct from each other? Here, it might be helpful for us to get into what happens with intensity. It’s true that, ultimately, the masochistic body is touched; I’m not saying that that’s what it’s looking for, but anything inscribed upon it should be informed by a flow or an intensity of pain. I’m referring to so-called erogenous masochists—what runs along their body without organs is only collected according to some intensity or other, either a decrease or increase in an intensity of pain. It’s what you might call writing on their body without organs, and if it isn’t pain—whether less or more—their body without organs doesn’t register it.
The drug addict, at least in some cases—and once again we have to know a little pharmacy, and I’ve been saying all along, pharmacy and psychiatry have it wrong—it supports a fundamental pharmaceutical experiment. The drugged body—with opium and opiates, at least—when it comes to drugs, the body without organs [is] a kind of full body; the body is so organ-less that the guy doesn’t even know how to inject his stuff. With this body, it situates itself based on a flow of intensity running throughout the drug experience. Which means that, as much for delirium as for hallucinating on drugs, it becomes necessary to re-establish—just like with schizophrenia, with Schreber—an “I feel” that’s deeper than delirium, an “I feel” deeper than hallucination. Prior to saying “I’m becoming a woman,” prior to the delusion of becoming-woman, Schreber feels that he’s becoming a woman, and he’s becoming-woman in intensity.
What does that mean? Well, the drug addict isn’t like the masochist, [where] things happen on their body without organs based on a flow of pain that fluctuates in intensity, as if nothing stuck to the body without organs, in the case of the masochist, if it didn’t capture the point where something running through the body without organs, which can only rouse it through pain, in the form of a fluctuating flow of pain. With the drug addict, it isn’t about pain; it’s about cold. The reason behind Americans’ reference to cold as zero degrees is precisely in order to indicate the limit of intensity, just like the schizo. I mentioned an intensity = 0, which will form the scale of intensity corresponding to the schizo’s delirium. Here, with the absolute zero cold on the body without organs, it’s as though, just like the masochist started with a flow of pain, now what distributes intensity is a flow of hold and cold. It’s no longer pain; what actually delineates zones of intensity is hot-and-cold, only a very particular cold and hot—an icy cold, sort of an absolute ice, an intensive ice, which the intensive metric for the drug experience itself is based on.
And in the case of schizophrenia, it’s something different again, and when it comes to hysteria, like we were just saying, is it possible to define a mimetic flow in intensity? Now our problem is starting to take shape, as to the status of this body without organs—as the metaphor I can’t get away from, at least—which makes me think it’s something more than a metaphor. It goes back to the basic stuff we learn from embryologists, again, about the egg: how they claim, uh, well, before it’s developed, there are dedicated parts of the egg—if nothing disturbs it, a certain region of the egg will generate a certain thing, e.g., generating the newt’s tail, the newt’s eye, the newt’s respiratory system.
But the egg really comes across as a body without organs, precisely because its organs are still no more than blueprints. It takes the sacred form of an egg, a form that negates the organ, that negates organs, that negates any organic growth. And it goes without saying that the region dedicated to generating the oral apparatus, or the ocular apparatus, or the neural tube—all these regions predetermined to generate this rather than that—none of them resemble the organ they will later incur. The region of the newt egg that generates the neural arch doesn’t resemble what it generates, and embryologists say, see, an egg is a closed circuit, but it’s completely gridded, shot through by extremely complex systems of coordinates.
We ought to interpret these coordinate systems in terms of intensity; in other words, in any given space there are axes, parallels—the egg has a whole topology to it. If you’re between such and such gradient of intensity, that’s the region that develops into such and such. If you get its regions out of order, it’s no surprise that the part that normally would have developed the newt’s tail ends up developing its neural plate… The whole egg is covered by a grid, but the grid is intensive, as if a flow… [End of Part II]
Notes
[1] For Marx’s perspective on this, see Anti-Oedipus, pp. 302-303. Deleuze and Guattari introduce the term, “objectities,” in Anti-Oedipus, p. 301.
[2] For the sake of Deleuze and Guattari’s constant reference to territoriality and de/re-territorialization, “earth” translates terre.
[3] See Anti-Oedipus, pp. 299-300.
[4] Cf. Anti-Oedipus, pp. 301-302.
[5] Cf. Anti-Oedipus, pp. 299-306.
[6] Literally, when the marché no longer marches.
For archival purposes, the original transcript was prepared by WebDeleuze, and its revision took place in February 2023. The translation was completed in May 2023, with additional revisions and descriptions completed in September 2023.