May 20, 1986

What is the speed of thought? What molecular speeds pass through us every time we think? Since thought is not constituted by what we think. I look at someone and I suddenly think of something else; it’s not these weak and measly thoughts that really matter. It’s the speed at which an association is made. And thought is the speed at which an association is made. What is that? What is this speed that suddenly ran through me?

Seminar Introduction

After Michel Foucault’s death from AIDS on June 25, 1984, Deleuze decided to devote an entire year of his seminar to a study of Foucault’s writings. Deleuze analyses in detail what he took to be the three “axes” of Foucault’s thought: knowledge, power, and subjectivation. Parts of the seminar contributed to the publication of Deleuze’s book Foucault (Paris: Minuit, 1986), which subsequently appeared in an English translation by Seán Hand (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988).

For archival purposes, the English translations are based on the original transcripts from Paris 8, all of which have been revised with reference to the BNF recordings available thanks to Hidenobu Suzuki, and with the generous assistance of Marc Haas.

English Translation

Edited

Featuring an intervention by Éric Alliez, this session’s transcription has now been reconstituted nearly in its entirety, with a new translation (no longer the “inaudible” status indicated on Paris 8 and WebDeleuze). Alliez discusses forms of subjectification in the context of contemporary Italian Marxism, opening with broader references (to Antonio Negri, notably) regarding Operaïsmo, or Workerism, and then tracing what Alliez calls three phases of development from post-World War II onward. Alliez focuses on Marx’s term “real subsumption” that Negri discusses as having an impact on, among other matters, possibilities for resistance and constitution of subjectivity, leading into what Alliez considers a third moment. After his remarks, Deleuze continues developing the strange diagram located in the final chapter of Deleuze’s Foucault with detailed descriptions of the drawing’s facets (minimally presented in the book) including the importance of “crossing the line”. Foucault’s shift – to cross the line – corresponds to his three problems, the third being “what is the mode of my subjectification?”, which Deleuze argues is linked to an even more fundamental question for Foucault, “what does it mean to think?” For the knowledge-being, says Deleuze, this is the space between speaking and seeing; then, for the power-being, thinking is at once “to emit singularities” and “to roll the dice”; and then, for the self-being, it is “to constitute a space within” coextensive with the Outside line of the fold. Sketching the diagram (for nearly an hour), Deleuze introduces texts by Melville, Faulkner and Michaux to show how the strata interact between knowledge and force, how singularities (affect, resistance, force relations) are emitted, and how they are connected to the line of the Outside. While the speed of thinking in Spinoza’s Book V of Ethics is linked to this, Deleuze insists conversely on the need for a “slow being” in the zone of subjectification. In response to students’ question, Deleuze examines this graph in contrast to Blanchot’s perspectives on the line of the Outside, and concerning possible links between the strata and the Outside , Deleuze summarizes his interpretation of Foucault’s thought throughout the year, also reflecting on the place of time within the framework he has presented: that through the coextensivity of inside with the Outside, the inside condenses every past and the Outside ushers in every future, hence a properly Foucauldian temporality.

 

Foucault in Death Valley
Foucault in Death Valley with Michael Stoneman. Photograph by Simeon Wade. Source: Boom California.

 

Gilles Deleuze

Seminar on Foucault, 1985-1986

Part III: Subjectification 

Lecture 24, 20 May 1986

Transcribed by Annabelle Dufourcq; time stamp and additional revisions, Charles J. Stivale, Graeme Thomson and Silvia Maglioni

Translated by Billy Dean Goehring; additional revisions, Charles J. Stivale; additional revisions (with opening section by Alliez), Graeme Thomson and Silvia Maglioni

Part 1

Today, I’d like to wrap up—or nearly wrap up. And we’ll have two more optional meetings, only for those who are interested in coming. One of the two meetings largely dedicated to the questions or problems that you yourselves have posed all year, to see what you think… whatever sort of question you might have for us, but you must have something to… you must have a direct response to everything that… And then one of you will have us listen to a piece by Boulez—rather, parts of a piece by Boulez—Fold by Fold, and we’ll try to find the reason behind this seemingly strange title. All that to say that my goal today is to draw some conclusions. A reminder about the green cards; it’s urgent that you hand those in.[1]

Okay, last time, you recall, we saw a certain theme about the relationships between force relations, that is, struggle, power struggles and modes of subjectification. And in many regards, it revolved around something Foucault had developed, more and more so in his late writings, namely, social struggles, and the emergence of new social struggles implies, presupposes, new modes of subjectification. Which was a way of confirming both dimensions, the dimension of power and the dimension of subjectification, as they appear in Foucault’s last books. So, I also asked one of you if there was anything that needed to be clarified, for example, about the Italian movement… And Éric [Alliez] here was eager to look into that. Yes, how would you describe the relation…

Alliez: [Inaudible comments]

Deleuze: No, especially not that…

Alliez: [Inaudible remarks] …quite rudimentary… what interests me is the rather basic theme… [indistinct remarks, he talks about the development of Marxist movements in the Italian context] So, quite generally…

Deleuze: [He seems to be speaking to a student near him] The year? What year?

Alliez: So, I think we can distinguish three phases… It took place at the beginning of the 60s…

Deleuze: [He continues to speak to someone near him] The year of the research, what does he do?

Alliez: So, it took place at the beginning of the 60s… As I said, we can distinguish three phases. A first phase dealing with the analysis of new forms of subjectivity; a second phase, which is much more interesting, focusing on these new subjects; and a third phase which corresponds to what can be called an ontology of the subject… and we will see later what kind of subject. In any case, the starting point of all this is, in parallel to what occurs for Foucault, that is, the idea that resistance is elsewhere. This is what the forces of Workerism are about, and that’s the main subject of this book, which has been translated into French, titled The Necessity of… [he refers to a book whose title remains inaudible]

So, at the beginning, Gilles had asked me to try to trace a connection with the Frankfurt School, to find cases that are somehow similar [indistinct words] … Looking for examples, I found a sentence by an English artist who was quite close to Italian Workerists, whose name is Edward Thompson.[2] This is what he wrote… Basically, I think this is a bit like an epigraph, in any event, [indistinct words] for what I would like to say [indistinct words] …

“So, to get out of the determination of a subject which would allow us to link the indeterminate… [indistinct words] by the relentless nonsense of the definition of the class struggle or the sophisticated sheep-like artists according to which social classes accomplish their planetary or molecular orbits…” — you have to consider that this was published before May 1968 – “This imbecilic conclusion that the sociologist of structural idealism and Marxism uses is the consequence of the conviction that classes exist independently of any historical relations and of the struggle, and that they struggle because they exist, whereas it would be necessary to verify their idealism and their… [He does not continue the quote] [Pause]

So, we see how, beginning from this reflection, it is precisely a question of starting from the complexity of the relations, from the multiplicity of struggles, and from the behaviour of their brothers-enemies – and this is something that Italian Marxists keep on repeating… starting from the refusal of wage labor, from the delegation… [indistinct words] thus the very opposite of an ideal “I”… Which implies, on the contrary, an attempt to orient oneself towards… [indistinct word] embodying in themselves a new form of struggle, hence a concept of class that is the direct, and not the theoretical result of proletarian struggles. This obviously implies a breakdown of the materialist methodology that we may call “traditional”, and the various discourses on transition, and the whole Marxist theory… [indistinct words] therefore also implying the collapse of a concept that the Italians called “revolutionary normativity”.

So, Marx beyond Marx is the title of a book written by [Antonio] Negri[3], Marx beyond Marx, that is, to go beyond Marxism as an objective theory of conviction, as determinism of the law of value, and as a linear methodology of a revolutionary thought… somewhere the motto: “Marxism is dead, long live Marxism”. Because indeed, what he found is that… [indistinct words] right to the end, including in its form, it’s much more ontological seen through, according to me, through a Spinozan lens.

So, I’d like to read you a passage from this text by this author who knew well, so to speak, the style, the prevalence of… [indistinct words] So, it’s a bit long but I think it’s worth it. I… I’m trying to translate as I read… Sorry, I didn’t prepare the translation, my apologies… [indistinct words]

“That we are faced with a true scientific cascade is something we have understood for a long time. It is an analogy, then; the norm of economic transition, the revolutionary norm, required a subject that could share it, and the revolutionary subject at stake was not capable, so to speak, of promoting it or even of realizing it. It does not… [indistinct word] us this subject because the ontological structure of the revolutionary being excluded any relation with the norm. The norm was definable only in the theory of value [indistinct words]. And the real structure was not reducible to this theory. But we have to go beyond phenomenology.

“What did this ‘puzzle’ consist of? It consisted in moving away from the real subsumption of work by capital – the logic of antagonism that posited an absolute separation of the definition of two totalities that seem to have no relation with each other: on the one hand we have the totality of the State as a respectable ensemble with more and more numerous forms of systemic inference; on the other hand we have the proletarian totality, with its destructive side, only as a process of self-valorization, in a stable and definitive ontological separation.

“To the system of power we can oppose the genealogy of ‘force’.[4] The practical criticism of the law of value led to this consequence: taken from the point of view of the analysis of daily life, and also in relation to universal phenomena that characterize our time, where we have the fascism of the State VS. the refusal of work, and the State of real subsumption of society versus the ‘social’ worker as protagonist of economic desire. The law of value becomes the law of a relation, of a real relation, when it can be applied less and less frequently because all the proportions of the relation are set in motion by themselves – providing that the proportions are, in a certain way, reproposed, which is now happening on the basis of a pure and simple relation of forces. Then we have a kind of crisis that is no longer resolvable by the law… the law of value.

“This crisis is substantial in the sense that the sequences of value have become completely irrational, and when I say ‘irrational’, I mean simply that they cannot be generalized in relation to the thoughts that belong either to the dominant or to the dominated, in terms of a relation that cannot be understood through mere information. So, let’s say that the residual relation of value is simply monetary… it is monetized, and the conjunction, the Western connection, the Eastern nomenclature of the social being are the large forms that reveal the way this emptiness, that reveal how people have emptied themselves of all relations.

“To give it a name, to give an arbitrary measure to being, to pretend to control is the only sense of this relation. Neither within this [Pause], this void, nor within this derealization of relations, do we have the persistence of the social pole as social subject of animation, production and reproduction… of refusal due to which we do not undergo the crisis any less. Normativity cannot and does not know on which side to exceed the levels of needs, nor how to reach the maximum of concentration of the elements of refusal, in their pure negativity, to reach a “now” of time of contact which should be possible, but it is only the refined accumulation of all possible negativities. We can see here how sabotage, the refusal of work, and self-valorization only touch, a simple touch, upon the desire of such a communist realization.

“As regards institutions, the crisis of complementary political systems is becoming more and more visible and severe. Democracy is a Byzantine simulacrum of social relations of exploitation. Socialism is a brutal ideology of planned and forced reproduction of the relations of exploitation. Facing these two figures, the only quality that reveals the proletarian subject, [he corrects himself] the social subject, is a kind of strangeness” – in Italian estraneità – “a radical otherness, the diversity of all norms.

“So here, the problem is posited in an extreme way. When the real subsumption of productive society is realized within capital without it necessarily determining communism, it is Marxism itself that is in crisis. Far from giving birth to revolutionary normativity, the antagonism of real subsumption reappears instead. All the categories that use to function as antagonism to the production of the real subsumption, now, in the context of real subsumption, do not seem capable either of describing the general pattern of oppressed society nor to organize new forms of antagonisms.”

So, all this may sound pretty incomprehensible, but I could try to explain it through… At least, I think you had to listen to this in order to understand through these details the appearance… [indistinct words] Yes, I think it was necessary to read it… [indistinct words] [Pause]

Well then, let’s go back to the very beginning, that is, to the first phase of identifying the [indistinct words] … which gives a certain sense to Operaismo, or Workerism… [indistinct words]

I think that we have briefly to recall that in Italy during the ‘50s – therefore very early in relation to what we’ve read about ’68 – there was a very strong crisis of trade unionism which led to the appearance of an autonomous workers’ radicalism that escaped the trade union structure, with their spontaneous struggles and so on… This was very prominent particularly in the South, which was characterized among other things, on the one hand, by an extraordinary circulation of different struggles that spread extremely rapidly… [indistinct words] and the trade unions and political struggles were feeding… and on the other hand, by what the Workerists had immediately spotted as a very strong knowledge… and a very strong sense of… [indistinct words] And these new forms of struggle manifested themselves mainly in the blocking of factories, in spontaneous strikes, in absenteeism and sabotage… [indistinct words] And this is where we can begin to develop the idea that… the idea that an ideology of liberation had definitively separated itself from the valorization of work. Therefore, liberation no longer takes place in work and through work, as we were taught by socialist or communist ideology… [indistinct words] And this is what we could call a spontaneous negation of the forms of work by the working classes… [indistinct words]

Later on, in the ’60s, in particular with… [indistinct words] we have this theory of the “mass worker” as a new subject of the workers’ struggle. So, this term “new subject” is extremely ambiguous, it is quite paradoxical because the material base of this new subject is, after all, quite old: it is traditionally called Taylorism, it is called Fordism, it is called… [indistinct words], in other words, everything that… [indistinct words] Its subjective base, on the other hand, is determined by new forms of struggles – that is, essentially by dynamic characteristics. And this is of course what is interesting now, that the figure itself of… [indistinct words] in that, moreover, it is well known that they were lagging behind vis-à-vis… history.

In any case, all the elements of the organization of the factory, of the “factory-society”, as they will call it, will be analyzed as products of a dialectical rapport between the workers’ struggle and the capitalist development, a dialectics whose active center is the mass worker. At every critical stage, mechanisms of domination – ever more complex, ever more integrated — are established through the continuous flow of information provided by the struggles themselves. In other words, therefore, Workerism will decompose the capitalist Moloch beginning from the very sequences of workers’ struggles in which capital captures a certain type of information and what they refer to as the social cooperation of workers, and all this goes far beyond the primordial domination of the assembly line.

So, one of the theoretical consequences for the method is that, at a certain level of capitalist development, the concept of “labor power” as an element of the dialectical relation of old capital, with the prevalence of the capitalist ratio of this relation, will dissolve, and only one relation will remain, that between capital and the working class, which has thus in a certain way freed itself from its enslavement as labor power. So, in this analysis, the dialectics of capitalist development is dominated by its relation to the working class, which determines an independent polarity in capitalist development itself.

So, it is wrong to say that the labor force disappears completely. It simply becomes a labor force which is, so to speak, “clean”. Here, this is a matter [indistinct words] instead of workers who have made their living within the very frame [indistinct words], which obviously implies regulation [indistinct words], and not simply capitalist command [indistinct words] … So this is a big problem – we can see it immediately — not always because the resistance [indistinct words] … essentially takes on a dialectical form, but the problem is that the framework remains [indistinct words] … while, a little later, according to them, we will discover that capitalist consciousness – it’s anything at all — already manifested itself in social terms, which were much more complex, that is, we had a type of domination or control over the whole [indistinct word] of circulation, and no longer simply over production.

But Negri together with other thinkers will say that Fordism itself already captured [indistinct word] the workers’ cooperation on the assembly lines. So, it captured the social motivations behind the theoretical organization of work. Little by little, the labor market and the fabric of social relations of production and reproduction will integrate the theory [indistinct words] within the whole of society… So, we therefore have, we therefore have the idea that the theory of the… [indistinct words] was, first of all, developed late, and secondly was incapable of explaining the new dimensions of command. And it is at this moment that Workerism begins to speak of… [indistinct words] but these concepts are unable to be transformed into practice. So, there is a real impossibility of… [indistinct words]

So, after ’68-’69, social struggle takes place in and against the system of value… and determines a general crisis of the forms of consciousness, and the answer will be more and more the social division of production. Then the dialectics… [indistinct word] it was necessary to abandon this theoretical independence of the concept of the mass worker. So, as the emergence of production [indistinct words] … considerably widened the labor market, it began to qualify as “workers” a series of activities in the social field that had formerly been quite marginal. So, it’s during 1968-1969 that we begin to find this new figure of the emarginati, that is… It’s difficult to translate: it’s not exactly marginal people, it’s people who were until then outside… how can I put it, outside the dominant relations of production, in the sense of the most modern relations of production… They were operating in the black market, for example, you know, that kind of thing. [24 :00]

So, what seems important to underline immediately is that when these phenomena first appeared, from the outside we had the impression they were something completely archaic… whereas the Italians… the Italian Marxists were convinced of the modernity of these new forms. I believe that it is enough to see what is happening today, for example, in Silicon Valley, with the multiplication of this type of work, this incredible multiplication of [indistinct words] in order to explain clearly the notoriety… [indistinct words]

So, in any case, there is a growing awareness that the interconnection between the collective work of reproduction, which the Italians will call the massified working class in the factory… [indistinct words] … and the social labor force… [indistinct words]. This obviously poses a whole bunch of problems of class composition that must… [indistinct word] as a tendency to the unification of subjects and struggles… [indistinct words] because we have the impression that there is an absolute disparity in the working conditions of the workers.

In any case, the “social worker” – and I think we should almost put “worker” in brackets and underline “social” as a social labor force – expresses henceforth their mobility essentially on the grounds of the circulation and on… [indistinct words]

So, the Marshall Plan which came after the war would already prefigure this figure of the “social worker” [indistinct words] … So, the whole analysis of the “mass worker” was somehow a delay, a practical delay, a theoretical delay that continues to haunt the ’60s with the centrality of workers that would lead quite concretely, at a political level, to a form of Marxism-Leninism that wishes to be rigorously… [indistinct word] that is, that focused completely on the entirely traditional figure of the mass worker.

By the way, in those years Negri had already written a text called… [indistinct words] So the category of the mass worker no longer has any theoretical independence, and they will try to justify it by saying… [indistinct words] So in this gap between city and society [indistinct words] … we see this enormous delay in relation to… [indistinct words] also in working-class France… [indistinct words]

So, there was this enigmatic expression, that appeared in Negri’s famous text,[5] of “real subsumption” that would correspond, according to the Workerists, according to their formula, to a real analysis… [indistinct words] But what exactly is “real subsumption”? I can only tell you that this concept emerges is Marx’s Grundrisse. And I believe that there is from the very beginning, from the very first writings of 60 or 70 pages… a very precise passage of the Grundrisse that shows how the real subsumption of society by capital… doesn’t imply a complete dissolution of antagonism, but on the contrary, it reproduces a new collective figure of antagonism.

So, in concrete terms, how do they define “real subsumption”? First of all, by the fact that there is no difference between productive labor and what is traditionally called unproductive labor… between absolute surplus value and relative surplus value, or even between production and circulation, because after all this “tertiarization” of production is exactly what Marx had already called productive circulation.

So, also the flow of value becomes increasingly more difficult to determine at a strictly economic level, and this is a bit what Negri tells us in his beautiful text… that, in fact, the flow of value, the flow of command, he tells us, articulates the analysis of a system’s being, and guides reality according to the functions of this regulation. In other words, it is what absolute functionalism is composed of.  And so, the singular forms of self-valorization, for example worker sabotage [indistinct words] … are completely integrated in this “real subsumption”, and therefore the question of resistance will be completely reconceptualized. For how… we have entirely returned, with a certain delay, to the situation of Europe… how can we determine the problem of resistance, not as eternally secondary… [indistinct words] to power relations, but in a certain way as primary? And this implies… [indistinct words]

So, the paradox of subsumption according to Negri is that in the very moment when an analysis of command tries to destroy the autonomy of the subject, in the moment when it integrates in its own way the moment of self-valorization, it would restore it in the form of collective culture. So, the production of a collectivity, of course, is a reality, since [indistinct words] … and so we would nevertheless have the production of an asymmetrical element in the process of production and therefore in the process of circulation.

So, we can also find this in the seminal pages of the Grundrisse, which is one of the texts written by Marx that goes the furthest in terms of understanding these mechanisms… [indistinct words] but where, because of the dialectical game, he still manages to find what is called a political… [indistinct word] that escapes these power relations. It’s similar to the opposition that was attempted at the level of… [indistinct words] And also because it poses some problems, both at the social level and at the level of its ontological constitution. So, there would be a general reproduction of antagonistic relations at the level of subsumption… of dialectics and this practice of duality to be thought in a third moment, in a third time, therefore, at the level of its constitution.

So, what is equally important here, I think, is that we have a fairly new analysis of the crisis, since the crisis becomes, at this moment, the constitutive dimension of “real subsumption” insofar as it does not exclude any antagonism and insofar as “real subsumption”, on the contrary, gives it this collective dimension through which the “social worker”… as social labor force. So, the crisis could have been solved through appeals… [indistinct words] but there is still an asymmetric element that is completely irreducible.

So, what is interesting is that it has become very difficult to think of any form of resistance… the title of the text that I read earlier is precisely beyond resistance, so we will talk later about “Beyond Marx”, a useful path for the 1980s…

Deleuze: Here, Eric—I think, really, you’ve gotten to what’s essential; everything you said is so rich. It’s… Can you say more about the collective brain? On the modes of subjectification or the equivalent for the modes of subjectification. And then we can stop there because that’s exactly I was hoping for regarding struggle—struggle and the production of new subjectivity.

Alliez: So, what we can say is that… if Negri speaks, if Negri and the others speak of… [indistinct words] it is because the different forms of struggle have not really followed the way in which they succeed in impacting a new mode of subjectification. This path consists in a form of rupture but one that no longer produces any real antagonism. In other words, Negri’s text is quite symptomatic in this respect. One has the impression that there is a gap now, that power relations are no longer immediately verifiable. This has led us to the development, for example, of the theory of the… [indistinct words] which is extremely important for all European countries as well as the question of guilt… [indistinct words] And then it has produced certain forms of sociality that in the end reproduce… That’s a real mystery. And if there is an ontological denial, it is because… [indistinct words] [He does not finish the sentence]

Deleuze: Yes, yes, yes, but today we have a moment of peace, you understand. I mean, the mistake is to believe that this peace will last. Listen— thank you so much, because it was indeed very rich, and it’s important that all this about Italian Marxism and alongside the Frankfurt School, the framework of Marxism anticipates it… in both cases, this link between new struggles – new subjectivity is anticipated… [Interruption of the recording] [36:32]

Part 2

… I don’t think there’s anything at all interesting about such a comment… why not?[6] Because it doesn’t reintroduce the subject but gives us a certain conception of what he calls a mode or a process of subjectification. There’s no point in saying that it’s a reintroduction of the subject, I think, if we don’t ask one basic question as we follow Foucault through his career: why? What does he need it for? Then perhaps we can answer that it’s because he had presented the problem of power in such a way that he was confronted by this necessity. We might wish he hadn’t posed the problem of power this way—I don’t know, anything’s possible—but, if we’ve followed him up to the point where he poses the problem of power in this way, I think we come up against the very intense question that he wound up asking himself: how to cross the line? Am I going to stay on the side of power?

And if you share this question, then, if you’ve gained a sense of it in thought for long enough, you’ll see that his answer follows. If it’s possible to cross the line, that is, to pass to the other side of power, it will be in form and in following a new axis or unlocking a new function. We’ve seen what these functions consist in, according to him… folding the outside, the fold of the outside or, if you prefer, more concretely, the way in which force—always the force from outside—the way in which force folds in on itself. That’s what he calls the interior of the exterior; you remember the boat, the ship of fools, which lies in the interior of the exterior.

You could almost say… it’s like if someone said—aha! He’s rehabilitating interiority. That’s not what’s interesting. When the word “interior” appears, it doesn’t appear coupled with the exterior; it doesn’t appear as opposed to the exterior. The interior-exterior opposition is swapped out for the idea that the exterior has an interior and that there is no other interior. That might still seem obscure. There isn’t any interior as opposed to the exterior. There isn’t a rehabilitation of interiority; there’s the discovery of a movement of the exterior, namely the movement whereby the exterior constitutes an interior which is the interior of the exterior. And we saw how, in other terms, we saw what this movement of subjectification consisted in: it’s a derived function, it derives from force relations. What derives from force relations is force’s bending back on itself. So, this dimension of subjectification, we saw, is going to be picked up by power, but new modes of subjectification are going to grow, to be constituted. So, we find ourselves with three axes, and that’s what I’d like to try and pin down for today’s session.

It’s like… at the end, in one of his last interviews, Foucault says it’s like there are three ontologies. The ontology of knowledge, the ontology of power, and the ontology of the self. He won’t use the word subject, right? The product of subjectification is the self. He avoids saying “subject” to better express how the interior is only ever the interior of the exterior. Ontology of knowledge, ontology of power, ontology of the self. In other words, there’d be a knowledge-being, a power-being, and a self-being.

I’m thinking of Latin, of an expression that I’ve already quoted, which I quite like, that comes from Nicolas of Cusa, the Renaissance author. Nicolas of Cusa invented a word in Latin. “Power” is posse (p-o-s-s-e), and the verb “to be” in the third person, “he is,” is est (e-s-t). So, Nicolas of Cusa invented the term, possest (p-o-s-s-e-s-t). The possest, to designate puissance-being, pouvoir-being.[7] What he meant by puissance, by pouvoir, doesn’t interest us here because it’s very different from Foucault, but I’m recalling this formulation because it might be useful, the possest. And you could say that, in Foucault, there are three ontologies, three beings. Then you’d do the same thing: what would knowledge-being be in Latin? “To know” is scire. You would say: there is a sciest—sciest—there is a knowledge-being, the sciest. Then there is a power-being, the possest. And then there is a self-being, the se—since “self” is se in Latin—the se-est. Do these clumsy expressions add something, or are they just for fun? Why, in any case? It highlights the ontological character of these three axes and, at the same time, that they’re historical ontologies.[8]

Why? Because for Foucault, everything exists in variation. Everything exists in variation. In this sense, everything is historical. And yet, he tells us, throughout his career, this isn’t the work of a historian—why? It’s not the work of a historian because I think that all Foucault is interested in—and this places him in a certain Kantian tradition—is the study of conditions. He’s not interested in the behaviors that emerge; he’s not doing a history of behavior. Neither is he doing a history of ideas—he’s said so a thousand times. Many books inspired by him are histories of behavior or histories of ideas, but he was never after that. He claimed to write a history of the conditions under which behaviors appear and the statements with which ideas are articulated, in other words, a history of the conditions of knowledge.

Likewise, he doesn’t do a history of institutions; he identifies the relationships, what he calls force relations or microphysics, as the conditions for any institution, since institutions can only form from such force relations. And likewise, he doesn’t do a history of private life, which is possible, which has been done, is still done. He writes a history of subjectification as the condition for all private life. Just one problem: according to him, what makes this nevertheless historical, even though it’s not the work of a historian?  It’s that, for Foucault, conditions are never the conditions of possible experience, as they are in Kant; in other words, they are no more general than what they condition. They are no more general than the conditioned. Language, for example, and light as conditions for knowledge always have a singular and limited existence. Their power-relations are always inseparable from one diagram and no other. Subjectification is inseparable from a certain way of folding, the determination of points through which the folds pass. In other words, the conditions are singular and not universal à la Kant.

So, it’s something other than history, since it’s a study of conditions, and yet it’s a historical ontology because the conditions are never general or universal, or, to use a philosophical word, they aren’t apodictic; you’d have to call them problematic—problematic in that they vary with every period and every social group. And again, corresponding to the three ontological axes are three fundamental questions: corresponding to the axis of knowledge is the question “What can I see, and what can I say today?” That is the problem; that’s what he calls problematization: today or in another period. In the period where I find myself, what can I say? What can I know? What is my power and how do I resist power—the second problem. Third problem: what is the mode of my subjectification? What folds am I wrapped up in? In other words, the three axes are inseparable from what Foucault calls a problematization. What does that mean, ultimately?

I believe that there was one thing that interested Foucault from one end of his work to the other, and it’s: what does it mean to think? What does it mean to think? And if you put the question that way, I believe, just as there are three axes, there are, in the span of Foucault’s writings, three determinations for what thinking means. I’d say, first of all, that to think is to see and to speak. We have to add a caveat: “to think is to see and to speak” only inasmuch as there’s a disjunction. Since speaking isn’t tied up with seeing, since there’s a disjunction between seeing and speaking, we have to say that thinking always comes between the two. Thinking is the interval between seeing and speaking. There is a fissure between seeing and speaking, so to think is to see and to speak, insofar as thinking takes place between seeing and speaking, in the fissure between seeing and speaking, in the seeing-speaking disjunction.

And we’ve seen that. I’m going over it again since I’m regrouping it in terms [of the question] “What does it mean to think?” We saw that seeing only becomes visible at its limit, at its own limit. That which can only be seen. Speaking only becomes enunciable by reaching its own limit. Yet it’s necessary for the respective limit, the limit proper to each of them, seeing and speaking, to be at the same time a limit they share, which separates them and which relates them to each other in separating them. Which means something very simple. It’s that, yes, it’s in between-seeing-and-speaking where thought sees and speaks and where thinking operates. And then, regarding power-being, what does it mean to think power-being? This time we’re no longer dealing with the two big forms, the visible and the sayable. It’s about punctual relationships; it’s about force relations that go from one point to another. These points are true singularities; they’re singular points. What does it mean to think? Here, I think, in the most general terms, to think means to emit singularities.

It’s that, you see, force relations… force relations to the extent that force relations are relationships between singular points; it’s not only between men and not only at the level of political power. Power-being, or the possest, equally concerns nature, equally concerns things. It concerns natural things just as much as it concerns artificial things. In what way? Well, I’d say: chance, for starters—chance is a force relation. In what way is chance a force relation? You throw dice at random. You throw dice at random. And you throw three dice: you roll 4, 2, 1. Okay, that’s a force relation. It could even be that chance is the foundation of all force relations. Between randomly thrown elements, there is a force relation. Emitting singularities.[9]

And there’s a long tradition—which includes Nietzsche, [Stéphane] Mallarmé—comparing or contrasting thought to a game. It matters what sort of game is considered. It’s clear that Heraclitus’ game is not the same as Leibniz’s game; they would all agree that, yes, thinking is playing in one way or another. Their differences emerge the moment we ask: sure, but what game… what game… what are you playing? It might not be easy to say what Heraclitus’ game involves, but it’s clear that if I figure out what Heraclitus’ game consists in, I’ll understand what he means. What his fragments mean.[10]

And so, when Leibniz, centuries later, takes up the idea that divine thought plays and calculates by playing, he is very precise as to what sort of game he means — a game much closer to chess, for example. Namely, [it involves] occupying maximum space through minimal means. His own example is that of paving a surface. Paving.[11] But a chess move, everyone knows—even bad players—everyone knows that it’s a pure force relation[12] … not between the two players; that’s not the point—that’s the psychology of the game, but the ontology of the game is such that each piece is a line of force. Each piece is a line of force, and there’s a wide variety of lines of force, but, for the amateurs—I’ll remind you, for example, that another game like go is completely different, so it won’t be enough to say, “to think is to play”; one will have to tell us which game they’re thinking about, what game it is. Are we talking about playing chess, or are we talking about playing go? Are we playing a random dice game? Or… what is it?

But if I remain at the generality which allows for agreement… yes, to think is to play, that is, if we take it as a fundamental sign of the game: to think is to cast a roll of the dice. And see what it means… it’s not a metaphor, it’s not anything poetic, it means to cast singularities and, in casting out singularities, deploying the relationships between singular points, between my three faces—one which shows 4, the other which shows 2, the other which shows 1—there is a certain force relation. And with that, as you recall, what we’ve seen with Foucault takes on its full meaning, when Foucault says that a series of letters—I take a handful of letters—and first of all, I toss them at random. I’d say that, in this passage from The Archeology of Knowledge, first of all we have the possest, the power-being, the force relation; it’s the relation that’s established between emitted singularities. You could try it for yourself by throwing a fistful of letters at random.

But at another level, it isn’t at all random. It’s according to probabilities, rates of frequency, for example, the frequency of the letters in a language—note that they have an order of frequency—or the even more complex relationships that are no longer random relations, frequency relations, and then we’ve seen relations, perhaps, between letters and fingers on a typewriter. And we get to the series A Z E R T, azert. There, too, we have singularities between which there are force relations. The force relations this time will be the relations of frequency in the French language, the relations of frequency between letters in the French language combined with the relations of the fingers in such a way that you don’t have letters with a high rate of frequency that could only be typed by crossing fingers—that would lose you time. In all of these I could say: to think, indeed, to think is Mallarméan par excellence, or it’s Nietzschean par excellence, when the earth trembled under the… when the earth trembled… I’ve lost it, hold on… uh… well, in a word… Zarathustra. From Zarathustra to Mallarmé, you find—now in terms of “casting a roll of the dice”—something that turns up, in a way, as early as Heraclitus, which will be rationalized in the Leibnizian chess game… one could write an entire history of the philosophical game and its examples, up to and including—to really account for everything, for everyone—Wittgenstein’s idea of language games.

What is a game? I can just say that to play is to think. In what sense? Strictly: emitting singularities. That’s the domain of power-being. What is my power, ultimately—My power is: emitting singularities. And we saw that between chance and necessity there were so, so many transitions, namely that there were these semi-dependent chains that only represent rolls insofar as these rerolls account for the results of a prior rolls. I claim that thinking is never simply throwing at random, or rolling at random, but that to think is to build up these series of rolls where the next roll depends on the results of the roll before it, depends partially… and that it’s the whole set of these successive rolls that we call a thought. And if there was an unconscious, it’s because, in a seemingly simple thought, there are perhaps thousands upon thousands upon thousands of rolls.[13]

That would be the second definition for what it means to think. So, there’s still a third definition. One more to go. This time, we’d say something like this… I’m not at all trying to convince you, the question… that’s why I would like two more sessions, afterwards it’s up to you to discuss, respond—I’d like for it to tell you something, if possible. This time, we’d say: to think is to fold, to think is to bend. Now, this would be the thought of self-being. No longer the thought of knowledge-being, no longer the thought of power-being, but the thought of self-being. And what does it mean to bend? It’s to form the inside of the outside. It doesn’t oppose an inside to the outside. It doesn’t mean reflecting on oneself; it means folding the outside. To form to inside of the outside. To double the outside of an inside with which it is coextensive, that is, which forms an inside with the outside, which is topologically related to the outside. Now that would be the topology of thought. To constitute an inside that’d be coextensive with the outside…according to the fold’s condition. To constitute a space within— [Henri] Michaux’s expression, the space within—to constitute a space within which would now be coextensive with the space without along the line of the fold.[14] The space within is topologically in contact with the space without. And the inside no doubt would condense the past, just as the outside would usher in the future, so that the fold would be nothing other than the line of time. The fold in which outside and inside coincide, as coextensive.

You’re thinking, “I don’t know, this is all pretty confusing…” After all, it’s not easy to say what thinking means. At any rate, we get three answers from Foucault. Thinking, according to knowledge-being, right, is seeing and speaking, but in the interval between seeing and speaking… or rather, a nice way of putting it would be: yes, it is seeing and it is speaking, but in the interval between speaking and seeing. Then there was power-being’s answer: [to think] is to emit singularities; it’s a roll of the dice. And then there was self-being’s answer: to think is to bend the outside, to bend force in order to form an inside, topologically in contact with the outside, coextensive and co-present with the outside. Maybe we’d be able to… I don’t know, we’d have to be able to make a sort of… and to discuss it without… a sort of diagram for Foucault. Let’s try to make a diagram or a sort of uh… we can give it our best shot, uh… yes, a sort of philosophical portrait. What would I say, if I really tried to sum up all of our work this year?

Okay, you’re opening… are you really hot? You can’t stick it out? Uh… those who aren’t feeling well don’t have to stay, you should go get some fresh air—I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. Yes, it’s very hot. There’s a solution: I’ll take the blame [for your leaving] and I’ll be the one to collapse! [Laughter] There we are.

I’m saying, we start with the strata, that is, the formations we’ve been discussing from the beginning. And if I try to depict strata, you’ll tell me… [Deleuze draws on the board] … and I call that “1,” or “knowledge-being.” Then, independently, how lovely these are… why is it this way? We’re going to show it, we’re going to stratify … Why am I doing this?  I’m saying that… [he continues to draw on the board] I’m saying: yes, these are stratified formations, and here you have the visible and its scenes.[15] For every layer there’ll be a social formation—social formation 1, social formation 2, social formation 3, and the scenes or visibilities, the conditions for what one can see on that stratum. And then you don’t have visibilities but statements, hence why I drew these little things, since you’ll remember the assimilation of statements with curves. While visibilities go through scenes, statements correspond to curves. Okay, but that’s a detail, it was to make things prettier.

And each social formation, there’s also what one can say, what one can say in any given formation, what one can’t say in some other formation, what one can say in some other formation. I would thus have strata that consist in visibilities on the one hand, statements on the other. Good so far? Stratified formation is thus knowledge-being. I mean, he never stops talking about it up to The Archaeology of Knowledge. It’s the archive. I said that the archive, in Foucault, is audiovisual: statements, visibilities. Why this gap? This gap… fortunately, fortunately I thought about it! Remember, speaking is not bound up with seeing; there is a disjunction between seeing and speaking. Speaking is not seeing and seeing is not speaking. There is a gap between the two. It’s this gap, or this disjunction, that I’ve marked here. Already, as Foucault’s readers, we are caught in a sort of labyrinth, and at the start of the year I read you a remarkable passage, but now we’ll add…I’d like to do a sort of literary commentary to help us understand—not a philosophical commentary, not yet at least.[16]

You’ll perhaps recall Melville’s work, borrowed from one of Melville’s most beautiful novels, Pierre; or, The Ambiguities, and where Melville tells us that thought has to do with strata, but that it isn’t only a matter of strata. To sum it up, at the point where I am in this chart, we go from strata to strata, we go from formation to formation. And in each formation, there is seeing, and there is speaking. There are visibilities that one can grasp, statements that one can form. And imagine… imagine… imagine you’re outside of time, passing from one stratum to the other, from the 17th to the 19th century, etc. Each time bumping into a new type of visibility: ah! Something we couldn’t have seen at one level and that we can now see, but only because we’ve lost something, something we once saw and no longer know how to see… and so on.

But then we’re a little panicked: we’re going from stratum to stratum, but what are we looking for? What could we be looking for, if not non-stratified substance? Why search for a non-stratified substance? Hey! It’s not my fault; we see that that can’t suffice, or else we’re doomed, we’re prisoners to our formation and that’s it. We’ll see what we’re able to see in this formation, we’ll say what we’re able to say, if that’s our situation. It’s not that we have to hope no matter what, but I guess… it’s not a kind of abstract reasoning… The fact is that we’re looking for something else there. In visibilities and in statements, in our statements and in our visibilities, we’re looking for something else. The simplest answer, since it doesn’t commit us to anything, is that we’re looking for the non-stratified, something that isn’t stratified. Who’d think to look for life in the archive? If we’re looking for some life, maybe we have to go through the archive, but we cannot stay in the archive. What are these strata, then?

As Melville says — I’ll read the text again, which is so beautiful, since we’re now in a position to give it its full meaning and extension –: “The old mummy lies buried in cloth; it takes time to unwrap this Egyptian king.” That’s the archivist’s job, to “unwrap the old mummy.” “The old mummy” doesn’t mean past formations—once again, the archive is just as much in the present as in the past; the old mummy is us. We are all the pharaoh, you know. All of us are already old mummies. What do I mean by that? What I just drew, you don’t know it yet, but that’s the mummy; it’s the mummy of archaeology and the formations, the strata, the superposed strata are the strips of cloth. They’re the strips. We go from stratum to stratum. We go from strip to strip. Why?

Well, because it takes time to unwrap the old mummy. And the young archivist, you see, Foucault’s disciple, the young disciple of Foucault—let’s call him Pierre: “because Pierre began to see through the first superficiality of the world,”[17] that is, the closest stratum… “he fondly weens he has come to the unlayered substance.” No, it’ll probably take a long time in the archive before having the slightest idea. “But, far as any geologist…” and the geologists, the same goes for archaeologists… “But, far as any geologist has yet gone down into the world, it is found to consist of nothing but surface stratified on surface. To its axis…” the axis of knowledge… “To its axis, the world being nothing but superinduced superficies.” It’s the world of strata, made of strips of cloth… So, we find ourselves getting lost in the strata as though in a labyrinth. Yet we’re looking for non-stratified substance. What to do?

I only see two possible ways for archaeology to cease to be archaeology and to become something other than archaeology, that is, the man of knowledge and of knowledge-being. One must try to climb over the strata [he draws on the board] or burrow deeper and deeper into the idea that, at bottom, is the non-stratified element sub-stratic, subterranean… or is it aerial? There — will he, the poor archaeologist, go there? Is he going to go there [Deleuze draws]… Okay. Well. For one thing, Melville tells us: be careful digging deeper. “By vast pains we mine into the pyramid…” — the pyramid is the strata, the stratified element — “By vast pains we mine into the pyramid; by horrible gropings, we come to the central room…” The central room is the burial chamber… “With joy we espy the sarcophagus; but we lift the lid…” and we hope, thereby, reaching the non-stratified. Perhaps… perhaps we’re right. Melville says no! “We lift the lid—and nobody is there!—appallingly vacant as vast is the soul of a man!” “Appallingly vacant as vast is the soul of a man”—I looked inside; all I found was emptiness…[18] [Interruption of the recording] [1:23:04]

Part 3

… It’s what we’ll call the stratic zone, or knowledge-being. What is above the strata? Above the strata. If the strata are on the ground, it’s the aerial or the oceanic. And maybe that’s the non-stratified element. What tells me that there’s something above the strata? There is a disjunction between the two sides of the strata, visibilities, and statements. And yet they overlap. There is no conformity, and yet each respond to the other. There is a correspondence without conformity, that is to say, visibilities respond to words, even though I never see that of which I speak. And words respond to the suggestion of visibilities, even though I never speak of that which I see. Remember, we focused on that for an entire quarter: how can there be a correspondence without conformity, since it’s between two disjunctive forms? And yet, there’s a correspondence.

And Foucault’s response was: I must find the reason for their correspondence in another dimension. This other dimension, which I’ll now call the gray area, for the sake of convenience, or, with more literary flair, the oceanic zone, or the atmospheric zone, or the [Xavier] “Bichat zone”. I won’t get back into why I call it the Bichat zone, it’s the zone of partial deaths — well, I’m getting into it — what will that be? That, we know, is the domain of power-being, that is, of force relations as the relations between singularities. Force relations as the relations between singularities. So, let’s place this – this is what creates the provisional situation — [He writes on the board]. We have to imagine it as very turbulent, very heavy… [He draws on the board] It’s land, the land of statements, and then here—these little doodads—that’s the land from which forms, forms of the visible, forms of the sayable, emerge. There, there is no longer any form. What are these little doodads? Well, those are points. There is no longer any form, but there, in my oceanic zone, is power-being, the deployment of power. In what form is power deployed? No… it’s… In what way is it deployed? It is deployed as force relations between singular points. So, if the little dots represent singular points, just imagine singular points in perpetual motion, they never stop, they move, right? They’re always moving.

See, I’m laying down force relations. Force relations are what I can define between two points, related at a given moment in relation to a social field, that is, in relation to the state of the strata… in relation to a state of the strata. But it’s already outside the strata. There is nothing outside the strata, but there is an outside of the strata; the outside of the strata is the forces and their relations. So, I’ll continue because this is important [He draws on the board] … that doesn’t cover everything; there’s no reason that it should cover everything. I’ll say, then, that it’s the domain of force relations or of power. There is no longer any form or any people, “we stood”—alas, I’m citing by heart, eh, it goes something like this, but at the same time, read it into the schema, the illustration which is very explanatory — “we stood above, not as people any longer, two moths or two feathers…” The little dots are the feathers, eh… “like two moths or two feathers, blind and deaf to each other,” in other words, invisible and mute, beyond both visibilities and statements… “Hidden in the flung dust, yelling ‘Bastard! Kill, kill!’”[19]

This beautiful passage—much more beautiful than my paraphrase—is from Faulkner’s book titled The Unvanquished, which tells of how, in playing, it’s about a game between a little white boy and a little black boy who fight each other.  “We stood above, no longer even people, but like two moths or two feathers… blind and deaf to each other… hidden by the dust we flung at each other, yelling ‘Bastard! Kill, kill!’” It’s a description of force relations. There it’s always a dice roll: it’s a beautiful zone, it’s a hurricane zone. Why? But… several questions… For my drawing to be accurate, why did I leave points outside of force relations? It’s that, as you recall, a force relation defines an affected point and an affecting point. One affected singularity, defined by the affect that it undergoes, one singularity defined by the affect that it exercises.

But we saw that there is another sort of singularity, singularities that aren’t part of force relations: singularities of resistance which have taken the place of free singularities encompassed in force relations, still, and which will enter force relations in order to be no longer singularities of being affected, or singularities of affecting, but singularities of resisting. No longer points of being affected, or points of affecting, but points of resisting. That’s the first comment to be made on this zone, which is perpetually… Why is it oceanic, perpetually swirling? It’s because every atmospheric state corresponds to a set of force relations, that is, a diagram. And diagrams undergo mutations and get broken, and I’d say that every diagram is the force relation corresponding to a stratum, one to the other…

Why? Well, because drawings—that’s how it always is—to the drawer it explains everything, in the viewer’s mind, thinking they understood it abstractly, well, it doesn’t matter because it’s too large. But you notice something, that there isn’t a split at this level, and you’d assume so. If you’ve been following along, there is no split at the level of power-being. The formless points, the formless zone—there is no form. The split is between the two forms of knowledge: seeing and speaking. But in force relations, which only combine points, points that aren’t yet determined as visibilities or statements, there is no gap, no split. Hence, I’ve extended it, and yet, we saw, it’s a set of force relations, that is, an atmospheric state, an oceanic state, a state of power-being—a diagram, if you will—that is actualized, that is incarnated [he draws on the board] in a stratified formation, in a stratum.

So, power relations are what are actualized and incarnated in stratified formations—why is there a disjunction between stratified formations? That is, why isn’t there conformity? There is no conformity because, we saw, force relations can only be incarnated, actualized, by differentiating themselves, differentiating themselves in two directions, not for themselves, but in one direction which will produce the visible on the strata and another direction which will produce the sayable. It’s because to actualize is to differentiate, to be differentiated, that there will be…. That the strata will only be able to actualize power relations by means of a gap, a split [he draws on the board] marking the two lines of differentiation.

Which explains everything! Finally, it’s all clear… I can even say, then— here, it’d be even nicer [he draws on the board]—the gap, the split, interstrata, between both aspects, both halves of the strata, the split has a sort of domino effect on the oceanographic zone. But then I’ll have a flurry of singularities, and of free singularities. That would be nice. There. That’s the domain of power-being. And then there’s still something else. There’s something else. Forces, singularities—where do they come from? We’re told, well, they come from the outside; they come from faraway, right? Deeper than any external world. Why? Because the relatively external worlds and the relatively internal worlds are stratified worlds. But well beyond internal or external worlds, there is the Outside, there is the outside-line. And no doubt it’s the outside-line that emits singularities that enter relations, that enter variable relations according to this or that zone, but the outside-line is itself, on its own, beyond the oceanographic zone. For now, I’ll represent it like this… [he draws on the board]. Why is… [Deleuze does not complete the question]

There, the outside-line. Now, why do I call it the outside-line? Because it marks the limit of death. It’s as if singularities… It [the line] is winding… It’s winding. It’s as if singularities fell from this the outside-line. When they fall from the outside-line, then, yeah, they enter into relation and these relations constitute force relations, that is, states of power. And the outside-line only bears singularities. And undoubtedly each singularity is defined by a curve, something from this the outside-line… Well, and we also have to think of it… see, it’s terrible because it’s the limit with death. And, at the same time, it isn’t conflated with force relations…

Georges Comtesse: [Inaudible remarks at the start] … but how, starting from power relations and at once relations of affection, of affect [indistinct words] … only starting from that, [indistinct word] that there is precisely a line of the Outside, one would still have to anchor what makes the line of the Outside thinkable starting from power relations, without which, when we speak of the line of the Outside, it’s like a kind of leap, an nearly [indistinct word] leap, at the limit, supposedly arbitrary.

Deleuze: Look, whatever you want, eh? For the time being, I’m having a similar problem—if it’s okay with you, right, let me… try to work through it, and any comments you might have will… afterwards. You’re right, in principle, but I can’t dwell on that… it’s difficult enough as it is… I mean, it’s terrible and yet! And yet, it’s a part of power-being. And what makes it so terrible? Probably its… I’d say its speed! It’s its speed. So fast! So fast, that it can take us away! Power surrounds us, but the outside-line threatens to carry us off at uncontrollable speeds. And to continue on with this kind of call—it seems so vital to me—this call for great literary authors to convey all of that, to make it more bearable, I’d say that, to my knowledge, there are two major authors who knew how to talk about this outside-line and give us some idea of it. And once again, it’s Melville, and Henri Michaux.

And Melville, not to help us understand the outside-line, but it’s not a simple abstraction, each of us has our own outside-line. Melville tells us his, or the one belonging to the followers on Captain Ahab’s boat in Moby Dick.[20] And a whole chapter, Chapter 60, titled “The Line, or the Whale-Line,” and why is the whale-line terrible? It unwinds with such speed that it can take off an arm, a leg, a whole sailor. “As the least tangle or kink in the coiling would, in running out, infallibly take somebody’s arm, leg, or entire body off, the utmost precaution is used in stowing the line in its tub. Some harpooners will consume almost an entire morning in this business.” See, the harpooners are here [he draws on the board]. Such precaution… such care is required to not be taken off by the outside-line! They consume almost an entire morning in this business in order to avoid what might develops… Secondly, the whole chapter is immense; he gives all sorts of reasons, he says, “this arrangement is indispensable for common safety’s sake; for were the lower end”the lower end has to be free, as you can see in my drawing, it’s free, there… in fact, you can extend it, you can extend it from one boat to another… “This arrangement is indispensable for common safety’s sake; for were the lower end of the line in any way attached to the boat, the whale would run the line out to the end in a single, smoking minute.”[21] The speed… Speed which is even worse than power. Worse than power. There is only one thing worse than power and more harrowing: speed.

What could that mean? Why? “…in a single, smoking minute as he sometimes does, he would not stop there, for the doomed boat would infallibly be dragged down after him into the profundity of the sea; and in that case no town-crier would ever find her again.” “Thus, the whale-line folds”—remember that, since it anticipates what’s to come—”the whale-line folds the whole boat in its complicated coils, twisting and writhing around it in almost every direction. All the oarsmen are involved in its perilous contortions; so that to the timid eye of the landsman, they seem as Indian jugglers, with the deadliest snakes sportively festooning their limbs.” “The deadliest snakes” are twisting segments of the line of the Outside. Well, it’s a sublime chapter. “But why say more…” And it ends with: “But why say more? All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life.” There we are.

Foucault wanted to know how to cross the line, or how not to stay on power’s side. Well. Granted, but in what form? Everyone has their whale-line. So, we’ll add: fine, everyone finds their line or lines. In any case, each of us has it, and how do we recognize us in it? We recognize it in the infinite speed of its shifting curves. That’s what we know ourselves by: its speed. So Melville, okay, it was the whale rope, it was the whale-line. Ultimately, he knew that the whale-line was also… Needless to say that Moby Dick, the white whale, merges precisely with the whale-line, since the movement of Moby Dick is the infinite speed of the whale-line. It’s the infinite speed it conveys, and Captain Ahab is the man of force relations, who makes the most of his force relations with his crew, resulting in everything leading up to the confrontation with the outside line, that is, the whale-line. Ahab’s chief mate says: Ahab, you had no right to single out the white whale, we should have stayed on frequency, any whale will do! We should have stuck to the power relations, to force relations, according to their frequency. You had no right to single that one out. You had no right to choose! The law… law in the political sense, the whaling law is: you do not choose your whale. Ahab already has – this will move us forward for later — a strange and monstrous personal connection with Moby Dick, the abominable whale. And because of that, he can use these power relations to move beyond power relations and drag his men toward the outside-line, which will carry all but one of them away at breakneck speed. Okay.

Michaux. When he talks about his experiences with mescaline in two books, two very fine books: Miserable Miracle and Great Trials of the Spirit. Miserable Miracle, page 127 and following: he says that the problem with drugs… see, it’s like the whale line… for him, it’s the drug line. Right. Mescaline. Mescaline, Moby Dick… there are so many examples in the world… “Now only a line…” He explains that there are no more forms… Drugs have the power to erase all form. What happens? “Now only a line. A line that breaks up into a thousand aberrations.”[22] This is what I tried to illustrate—see, these are the aberrations of the outside-line. “A line that breaks up into a thousand aberrations…” And now Michaux’s splendid formulation: “the whiplash of an infuriated carter.” It responds word-for-word to the passage in Melville, where the sailors’ arms seem to be wrapped in writhing snakes. “The whiplash of an infuriated carter would have been a relief to me. And no pity either. I, the accelerated line I had become…” I had become an accelerated line, the outside-line. The outside-line is an accelerated line.[23] The accelerated line is actually speed… Sorry for chuckling; it’s wonderful: you’re getting ahead of my drawing! [Laughter] Becoming an accelerated line. “The accelerated line I had become did not retreat, withstood each new slashing, was ready to form again, was on the point of forming again when the force, swifter than a meteor” – etc. — “it was agonizing because I [resisted].”

What do we take away from the following pages? That the problem of this line, then, I really don’t care that it’s a drug-line. Maybe someone should do a comparative study of lines. What they have in common is that we’re beyond all form; we’re in the formless element. Whatever the character of this line, it’s defined by its speed. Speed and what? Not only that, but mixed speed, that is, speed and sinuosity. The whiplash of the infuriated carter or Melville’s snake. Melville’s snakes; molecular speed, says Michaux. And then, exclaims that what Michaux’s interested in, just like what Melville’s interested in, isn’t really whales; it isn’t really drugs. Mescaline… Like he says, mescaline never invented anything; it reveals… It’s like the whale… the whale, too. What does that mean? It means: what it’s about is thought.

That might seem simple to you… well no, it isn’t simple. That Moby Dick be unthinkable, that is, uh… that Moby Dick be fundamentally related to thought, that Michaux’s mescaline be fundamentally related to thought… in fact, uh… whale or mescaline, it’s all about thought. So, it was better to do without whales—at any rate, there are many more—it’s better to do without mescaline, namely: what is the line, the high-speed line. The high-speed line that runs through you like the whip of an infuriated carter: it’s the line of thought, the line of thought. Which moves at dizzying speeds, with which you cannot keep up.

Consider the brain state. What are speeds? Molecular speeds, intra-molecular speeds… Again, we end up… — now we have something, it’s good – what can “to think” mean? You might find all of this odd… “What does thinking mean?” instead of asking “What is Moby Dick? Or the whale?” or “What are drugs for?” It’s obvious at this point. If Moby Dick is no more than molecular speed par excellence, if mescaline is no more than the molecular speeds it communicates, it’s clear that the question remains: what is the speed of thought? What molecular speeds pass through us every time we think? Since thought is not constituted by what we think. I look at someone and I suddenly think of something else; it’s not these weak and measly thoughts that really matter. It’s the speed at which an association is made. And thought is the speed at which an association is made. What is that? What is this speed that suddenly ran through me?

Thought is not something reminds me of something else… God it’s miserable that something always reminds me of something else! Thought is… and it’s strictly the entire speed at which something reminds me of something else. How can I live at such speeds, that is, being shot through by molecular speeds? How can I live in the rhythm of my brain? That’s what it means to think — Shut the door, we’ll take a break soon, eh, forever… — That’s… That’s… what… What thinking means isn’t: you have to think about this or about that, what is philosophy? Well, it’s to confront the speed of thought. It’s nothing else. It’s to confront the speed of thought and, literally, to manage it as best we can. Uh… Then you might say: there are other speeds that one can confront… Yes, one can confront the speed of the whale, etc. But I believe that each time one confronts speed, what one confronts is something that stands for thought, even if it’s a dumb-ass car [voiture à la con] or if it’s… There is something. What is this molecular speed? That’s Michaux’s question. And how to survive it? Okay.

And here, I’m thinking of something that really struck me. One of greatest philosophers among the greatest philosophers: Spinoza. The thing that struck me in The Ethics, for those who have read The Ethics, is that The Ethics contains five books. And four proceed along a rather… clear and stately path.  Absolutely… It’s the geography. The geography of The Ethics is very curious… a sort of… [Deleuze does not complete the sentence] And of course, it’s already about thought! And then the tone changes in Book Five. And whereas before he left no stone unturned and demonstrated everything geometrically, Book Five is extraordinary because, literally, no one has ever thought at such speed. There are lightning-speed shortcuts. There are ellipses. A mathematician once explained to me what it was—and I was surprised by how passionate he was—that it was uh… a truly creative demonstration for a mathematician. Obviously not like in a math book. It’s a series of flashes with blanks, gaps, etc., if necessary, gaps that never come back around. A genius young mathematician named [Évariste] Galois similarly had sorts of demonstrations with ellipses, gaps, precipitations, flashes, as if he didn’t find it necessary to explain himself on that, though. Wham! Wham! A molecular speed. Okay.

If it’s the outside-line, if it’s molecular speed that in a way shows up here as the line of thought, what is the problem? Michaux tells us this. Melville told us. What did Melville and Michaux say? Michaux asks: how do I handle this tremendous speed that runs through me? How do I form — another way he puts it, admirably — how do I form a slow being?[24] How do I form the slow being that I ought to be? Starting from… It’s not a question of avoiding speeds, but: how do I form the slow being that I ought to be starting from molecular speeds? I ought to be a slow being. But I ought to be a slow being insofar as it is formed by lines at molecular speeds, at high-speed forms. How to form this slow being? And Melville asked us, at the end of the chapter on the rope, on the line, “how should the harpooner to organize the line that surrounds the boat and runs through every point of the boat, so that there’s no risk or as little risk as possible of carrying off a sailor?” We have to see these as the same problem. Fine.

So, you might see that my drawing is far from being complete. Or at least that it was incomplete. What is the outside-line? To form… It’s the line of molecular speed. To form the slow being today. To form the slow being that I should be, along the line of molecular speed, the line of great speed… If you will, it’s bending the line. [He draws on the board] The outside-line is going to be folded, be bent. The outside-line should form an inside of the outside, 1) the strata, 2) the oceanic zone of power relations, 3) the outside-line, 4) the outside-line’s fold. The fold of the outside-line is what’s known as “the zone of subjectification”, [he continues to write on the board] the constitution of being that we are on the high-speed line, zone of subjectification or the self. The fold of the outside. The fold of the outside-line is what defines subjectification, that is, the interior of the exterior. The self wasn’t ever the self of an ego. It’s the interior of the exterior, that is, the ship itself. The ship of fools, Foucault said, in the interior of the exterior, passenger par excellence. The passenger par excellence is the one on the outside-line which is constituted as slow-being, shot through with molecular speeds… constituted as slow-being in accordance with this zone of subjectification, of folding. [He draws on the board]

At that point, there are a few things left for us. But see: I would say, then… we had started to find the non-stratified element at the level of the oceanographic zone, but we also find it, if I circle back to Melville’s text on the central room… The central room is the fold, the outside-line is the interior of the exterior; it’s the inside of the outside. The slow-being’s abode. And there is more to fear than the room being empty, than the pharaoh not being there, since in the fold, we said, there is never any subject to discover; there is a subjectification to carry out, and the subjectification is the subjectification of the line itself. It’s precisely what I was saying before: the self is not the self of an ego; it’s not yours.

And in that regard, if we had to draw a comparison, but that would derail us… maybe next time, if we had to draw a comparison, a strange text by [Maurice] Merleau-Ponty puts it well… Two texts by Merleau-Ponty that seem to cover this and draw the link to… between Foucault, Merleau-Ponty, and Heidegger. Because if I stick with these texts, it’s… here there’s an obvious resemblance. “Now perhaps we have a better sense of how much is contained in that little word ‘see.’ Vision is not a certain mode of thought or presence to self”[25] … [Interruption of the recording] [2:09:50]

Part 4

… It’s at the end of the process of subjectification that I can close in on myself, and even then, it isn’t advisable. And Merleau-Ponty adds: painters have always seen this.[26] Painters have always seen this… yeah. Yes, there’s something about speed in there, too. And in another passage from Merleau-Ponty—I won’t look for it now… there’s something very remarkable. A text that lines up perfectly with that one. “A relation to Being is needed that would form itself within Being.”[27] That, that lines up perfectly with: the interior isn’t mine, it’s not me. “A relation…” Page 268 of The Visible and the Invisible. “A relation to Being is needed that would form itself within Being. This at bottom is what Sartre was looking for. But since for him there is no interior except me, he didn’t find it.”[28]

Distinguishing these four, it’s four zones, it’s four zones. And what’s essential is seeing that there’s no recourse to any form of dualism whatsoever. I mean: it isn’t about recovering an inside as opposed to the outside. It isn’t about reconstructing a slowness as opposed to speed. It isn’t about defining an ego as opposed to the non-ego. Rather, it’s about constituting, once again, the interior of the exterior. That is the self. It’s about constituting the slowness of speeds. The interior of the exterior, the inside of the outside. That’s it; it isn’t that I appear under form 4, here, this sort of crease in the outside-line.

So, if you’re with me, I’d like to conclude our session with your responses, there are things left to… but maybe we’ll do it next time, then, I especially… if I have time, if you don’t have any questions, I’ll very quickly go through the similarities and differences between Foucault and Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty, because there is a problem regarding some of their overlap and great differences on other points.

But what is… You find yourselves… All year, you’ve patiently followed me in this attempt to piece together Foucault’s thought… I mean, what are your thoughts? Some of you, throughout the year, have given me questions. Sometimes I answered them, as we went along. Uh, I mean, at this point, if you understand someone’s thought, your affective response is crucial. Because that’s something other than discussion. What I’m calling an affective response to thought, which is completely a part of thought, is, again: what about it agrees with you, what bugs you? It isn’t about discussing, it isn’t about objecting to Foucault; each of you has to figure out what agrees with you and decide—as modestly as Foucault—that… decide for yourself what bugs you. Because what bugs you about a thought sort of draws a dotted line in the directions you need to take in order to find what does work for you.

So, I’ll read a comment because it’s extremely interesting and is a good example of what you could call… I don’t know… noetic-affective responses, affective responses of thought as such. It’s not so much: I like it or I don’t like it. It’s more about having a… I don’t know what…an affective disposition regarding thought. Yet one of you, I’m reading… because I found it very… and, at the same time, in order to explain to you, I’d like you to understand that myself, personally, I have nothing to say in response to something like this.

So, one of you said, “Based on what you said, it seems that the only way to not be sort of dazed by the outside is to fold it, to dwell in its inside.” I can already tell you that at least he understood perfectly what I meant: It’s not an inside which would be mine; it’s about dwelling, inhabiting the inside of the outside, being a passenger par excellence…. That is, being there in the zone of subjectification. So that’s perfect. “But doesn’t this effort,” he says, “But doesn’t this effort” –since it’s really an effort, I completely agree — “to brace the line, to fold the line, all too often result in rather sad kinds of work?” Notice the affective tone. “… rather sad kinds of work, oriented toward anxiety, solitude, despair?”

Very interesting. This is someone who is saying: ok, fine, this outside-line that folds and constitutes a zone of subjectification, which is ultimately the only way to survive, shielded from the line of death’s excessive speeds” — since the outside-line is also the line of death — “isn’t there something sad about that? A culture of anxiety? [Maurice] Blanchot, Mallarmé, [Rainer Maria] Rilke, [Vincent] Van Gogh, whose confrontations are only head-on”—that is, they confront the outside-line, according to the author— “lead them to tactics like ‘expressing the inexpressible,’ for which Blanchot is the best example. It’s a confrontation insofar as it’s always a matter of the expressing opposed to the inexpressible. [Antonin] Artaud’s work, for example. These authors are staggering,” this person says… “These authors are staggering, not with regards to myself, but regarding the inexpressible itself, an inexpressible expressed by works that are nothing but active meltdowns (in the sense of writing in Blanchot’s disaster) … Nothing but active meltdowns, a big family of stifled, stifling martyrs.”

“So, I had a lot of questions. Can we say the same for Foucault? I am rather aware that…” — I’d say, I’d say so for Blanchot. Blanchot says: this outside-line is a line of death and, in the end, we fold the outside-line to prepare an interiority. Indeed, it isn’t joy in Blanchot. If you say this isn’t joy, emotionally, you couldn’t say that this was joy. He continues: “But isn’t there another possibility? Rather than trying to twist the outside, don’t you think it’s possible to walk the line, to somehow ride it in order to find a whisper of something more than mere survival or the development of a separate territory?”

Well, that means precisely, and it’s very interesting, I think: even assuming that we approach the outside-line, is folding the line to build an interiority, to constitute a process of subjectification, an interiority in waiting — is that our only solution? Is there another way to treat the line? I’ll keep reading: “… isn’t it possible to walk the line, to somehow ride it in order to find a whisper of something more than mere survival or the development of a separate territory? Isn’t folding or refolding strictly a strategic decision? Can’t one attempt something other than simple strategy? To follow, to chase, to let it spin, to divert—wouldn’t these be more soothing and, in fact, less tragic?”

And here, oddly, he cites Lautréamont and [Samuel] Beckett as authors in this vein, as opposed to those cited above… Okay. So, I think this is very interesting as a response. Here is what I… my response in my turn to such a problem wouldn’t be, you understand… again, we’re not at… What’s at stake is the whole linear system. What I mean is that it’s all or nothing. You can’t say to Foucault: yes, strata, yes, power relations—ah, but wait! The rest… uh… that’s where I get off. Again, that’s what I find beautiful in life: if you follow someone, you have to follow them to the end. So, what this sentence says in fact implies a linear system that’d be developed completely by other means and that could intersect.

Understand, what forces Foucault’s choice—I’m always repeating it because it’s the key to everything and especially to what unites his work and what makes… and what causes a sort of crisis in the later books — it’s because Foucault discovered and determined the formless element, the linear element, he determined it as power relations and because he thought it was very concrete, he was struck, he was suddenly struck by this, that, far from being independent of power, knowledge came back to power relations, that is: what one says and what one said came back to centers of power, to points of power. Everything follows from there. How to cross this line of power? The answer: it’s truly—and can be nothing other than—confronting death. In other words, the outside-line can only be identified as death. And the question turns out to be “How to live with death?” rather than “How to survive death?” Recall Bichat’s theme: death coextensive with life. How to live with death?

Well then, the operation of bending, of folding… folding force creates a zone of subjectification. Yet the reason, in my opinion, that it isn’t so stifling… My reaction isn’t, at any rate, in the case…I don’t think it’s a stifling thought. It’s the way in which this inside, constituted by the fold, has to really—I tried to emphasize it before, but went too quickly—to really be in contact with the outside. It’s not a closed inside. It has to be co-present with the outside at the fold’s limit. It’s this topological relation that I covered much too quickly. It’s this sort of co-presence, of the inside’s application to the outside such that subjectification is by no means a closure but an opening. As Merleau-Ponty says, only at the end does it risk closing on [you?]. But, if you maintain the impression that this zone of subjectification, in terms of the line seems to you… well… doesn’t suit you, I’ll say again: you can then be very close to Foucault, but you’ll end up making a system of lines, a linear system, since ultimately all that amounts to saying: to think is to trace lines; just how it means emitting singularities, to think is to trace lines. You’ll have a different linear system. Namely, one that’ll imply a completely different evaluation of power and that’ll already imply a different evaluation of knowledge or of other categories than those of knowledge and power.

Is that possible? It’s clearly possible. Yeah. I don’t see any other response. In other words: yes, okay, okay, it’s… uh… But I’ll reiterate, the only response I’d have is: don’t take the zone of subjectification to be something that closes you in on yourself. Always remember: yes, it’s the inside, but it’s the inside of the outside. Yes, it’s the interior, but not my interior; it’s the interior of the exterior. Such that this interior is topologically in contact with… this interior formed by the fold of the exterior is topologically in contact with all of the exterior. I get back, I come back, I return to the brain: that’s what they tell us about the brain. Very difficult to interpret the brain, to understand the brain in Euclidean space. It’s a topological space, that is, the entire interior is co-present with the entire exterior. The fold is simply the formation in which it [inaudible word], but which, as the interior of the exterior, is attached to the whole exterior of which it derives. In this way, there’s no conflict with what’s described here as following or riding the line, etc. There’s no conflict… no conflict.

Well, are there any comments on… on this schema? I only had one goal… I only had one goal this year: to familiarize you with a great philosophy, as I understand it. I really think that it’s one of the most important philosophies of the 20th century. Then this is infinitely more important than the question: to what extent do you agree, are convinced or unconvinced… There you have it. Are there any comments on the schema itself? … Yes?

A woman student: [Inaudible remarks; with reference to the schema, she asks if a relationship might be possible between the strata and the line of the Outside]

Deleuze: You’re putting it nicely, if I’m hearing you right, and you don’t mean it as criticism, but you’re saying: what you’ve given us is your interpretation of Foucault… Of course, of course. If you also want to know whether there is another possible interpretation, I’m almost embarrassed at the question. Certainly. Certainly. All that I can tell you is that —understandably — is that I don’t see one [Laughter]… necessarily. I mean, no… there are cases where one says… where, myself, I’d have commented on passages saying, well, you have several possibilities… I don’t see any others, uh…. If, I mean, it’s a matter of… of… of figuring out the requirements we’re setting for ourselves. My requirement was to understand the entirety of the work and the moments of crisis that ran through his work. Uh… That’s why I attached so much importance to what would only be a detail for others. The whole business after The Will to Knowledge, where Foucault, in this passage that I picked up in an article, it’s obvious that, for example, I attributed enormous value… If I were to critique myself along your lines, I’d say… in your defense, I even heavily emphasized words that appeared very rarely in Foucault’s work. I strongly emphasized the word diagram, for example, which only appears once, because it was illuminating in helping make out Foucault’s thought. But one could always say: even so… it’s still very hard to give a single word so much extension. [Pause]

If you ask… Then your question becomes: doesn’t The Archaeology maintain… doesn’t it have these relations… relations that aren’t mediated by power relations? It’s possible—it’s possible. I’d be interested, at that point… I don’t believe so; I don’t believe so, for Foucault. I don’t believe so, but you do seem to. All I can tell you is that, when he discovers power relations, he ceases to do archaeology. It’s as if he were carried off by completely different problems. Clearly, if… We will have to, then, complicate the schema… are the… But I’m not sure what you mean. Are the archives, are the strata themselves a direct link to the outside?

The student: [Inaudible comments; she suggests that perhaps other regimes, notably the regime of language, might have this particular relation]

Deleuze: That’s it. That’s it. Yeah, yeah, yeah… Well then, that’s what it is… you’re picking back up, there I… Then, I admit, it makes a lot more sense. Are you actually ascribing theory to statements and to language… not to statements – granting everything I said about statements… — but if you give language a function still more important than the one I’ve given it, it’s clear that everything changes. That is, Comtesse’s intervention saying: language is uniquely privileged, whereas I claimed an equal status for language, life, and labor… uh… if you maintain that language has a privilege which Foucault didn’t have time to analyze, since—grant me this much, at least—it seems that he didn’t have time to analyze it or that he didn’t do it… if you say we have to start there, it’s clear that in the statement-language relationship, there is something here in my schema that threatens to overturn this. Yes, that’s for sure.

I’d just say that, personally, I don’t think so. I don’t think so, that is, I was extremely interested by and understood what Comtesse said about… and… I… I stuck with… So that would maybe come back to the question from earlier. If language is privileged, I’d almost say… You’ll find yourself with other difficulties, because it’s a privilege of absolutely non-linguistic language. Uh, it’s a privilege of literary language. Here, Foucault will never forgo his anti-linguistic [streak], and the very, very ironic way in which he says… the proof that it went poorly in literature is that linguists got involved; and the way he says, very emphatically, that modern literature is a backlash, a compensation for linguistics and not…. And not at all an ally of linguistics. It will be a being of language, a literary language-being.

The same student: [Inaudible remarks; she continues to pose the question of the possible role of language in the schema]

Deleuze: To that I’ll say you’d really have to give “interpretive” a very particular meaning, since Foucault never hid his disdain for interpretation. It isn’t from… at any rate it isn’t from a hermeneutic perspective… Since he loathes hermeneutics, you won’t make any headway there. Rather, I think it’s actually literature, his conception of literature, about which he said very little besides that it breaks with linguistics. But his conception of literature—I can’t see how it’s possible for him to, again, afford language-literature the least privilege over life, or over the formless. Going back to [Arthur] Rimbaud’s trinity… right… that I read to you from the famous letter, the Letter of the Seer, the new man, responsible for a new language, for a new universal language, but responsible even for the animals and responsible for the formless.[29] I don’t see how… I don’t see how… at any rate, especially in terms of affective responses, everything about this idea horrifies me, that one could make literature without it engaging something in life itself, without it engaging with the non-literary. I mean: how to avoid thereby reconstituting a literary interiority? Yet if… if literature is a self or an interiority, it is the interior of an exterior that itself isn’t literary. So, on that basis, I cannot understand what the privilege of literature means. We can say that literature is a particularly important mode of subjectification. That’s what he’ll say, for example, at the end when he talks about writings on the self. You recall…

The same student: [Inaudible remarks]

Deleuze: That’s it. That’s it. But if you want to take that approach, or if it’s Comtesse who takes that approach, you’ll obviously have a whole other interpretation of Foucault. If you ask me whether such an interpretation is possible, I’d respond that it is certainly possible, but it isn’t mine. But all the more reason… It’s another way of telling you to do it. [Pause] Are there any other comments? So, are you too tired for me to go over the differences with phenomenology? We can save that for next time…

Another student: [Inaudible comment]

Deleuze: What? What time is it? Ah… yes… no, you were asking about time. Where is time, inside? Very briefly: for a very long time, Foucault… wasn’t very fond of the problem of time. And, following Blanchot once again, he said: the true problem, the true problems, are problems of space. The true problems of modern thought are the problems of space. And what’s more, in a passage from The Order of Things, he reverses it. He explicitly says: allegedly, modern thought discovered time whereas classical thought privileged space. He says that the opposite is true. In other words, that Foucault has a sort of aversion to the problem of time. And that seems to be the case up until The Will to Knowledge. That’s what appears…it’s the case up until The Will to Knowledge. I have the feeling that then, with the idea of the folding outside-line, there is a… there is a true rediscovery of time. Because that is time. Why is that time?

There was a very admirable definition… not exactly of time, but of something related to time, in Kant. And this definition had a big impact on Heidegger. Heidegger said that time is, following Kant’s formula, how the self is affected by the self.[30] Yet in Foucault, The Order of Things, page 357, you have a passage that I find quite interesting, since he all but says… it seems like he’s on the verge of coming back to time. Oh, oh, oh no… it’s not 357… I’ll find it again… Ooooh. Where could it be? I have to find it because if… oof! It’d be nice. When you’re off, you’re never only off by a page… Uh… hold on, 357… why isn’t it there? No, no, it’s 357—I was right, but it’s not there. Ah, here we go! “Thought…” — 357 — “Thought […] cannot discover the unthought, or at least move towards it, without immediately bringing the unthought nearer to itself.” See, that, that settles it, eh? Remember: thought comes from the outside, an outside further than any external world, but because it is further than any external world, this thought from the outside will be revealed as in itself the unthought, i.e., the nearest. Nearer than any internal world.

It’s already the idea… It’s like the first formulation of the fold, of subjectification, before he got to the real problem of subjectification. It’s a clue, I think, of what comes after this passage on page 357. So, “Thought […] cannot discover the unthought, or at least move towards it, without immediately bringing the unthought nearer to itself—or even, perhaps, without pushing it further away…” It’s further than any external world, thus nearer than any internal world. “… or even, perhaps, without pushing it further away, and in any case without causing man’s own being to undergo a change by that very fact, since it is deployed in the distance between them.” To “undergo a change” is really “affected.” Clearly, I would have infinitely preferred that he put “affect.” Well, we don’t get what we want, eh… “to undergo an affect.” Thought as the self’s self-affection… in the way that what it is further than any external world becomes closer than any internal world, and it is produced by an alteration, that is, a self-affection of thought insofar as it comes from the outside. This self-affection of thought, it seems, is precisely what we ought to call time.

Hence, you see, on 357, it just so happens that it becomes a question of time, self-affection, whereas space is always something else affecting the self. And if I come back to my schema [on the board], the outside-line, which was defined by molecular speeds and which, moreover, folds in to form slow-beings, the zone of subjectification, is precisely what I have here. Force folds in on itself. In other words, it is self-affected. It’s the whole movement of the outside-line, insofar as it folds and constitutes an inside coextensive with the outside, that we should call time. That’s why I said earlier that, in the co-activity of the inside with the outside, the inside condenses every past — and we saw that subjectification was absolute memory –, the inside condenses every past, and the outside, the line of death, the line of all speed, ushers in every future. Accordingly, I think this is where we find Foucault’s own understanding of temporality. [End of the recording] [2:45:52]

Notes

[1]These “green cards” are administrative registration forms to verify enrollment.

[2]  Given the content of this quote, it is more likely that the writer is E. P. Thomspon, a British socialist historian, rather than the contemporary artist, the painter Edward Thompson.

[3] Marx oltre Marx (Feltrinelli, 1979). In this book Antonio Negri, a key figure in the Italian Autonomia Movement, re-reads Marx’s Grundrisse in order to develop a critical and controversial theoretical apparatus that informs the zero-work strategy and other elements which have become crucial to this new and heretical tendency in Marxist theory. A challenge to both capitalist and socialist apologists for waged slavery. See Marx beyond Marx, ed. Jim Fleming, trans. Harry Cleaver, Michael Ryan, Maurizio Viano (New York, Autonomedia / Pluto, 1991).

[4] See the distinction between the French terms “pouvoir” and “puissance”. In English this distinction can often be rendered in two ways, according to one’s ideological predilections: as “power” and “force”, which would be closer to a Negrian reading, or as “power” and “potency” or “potentiality” which would be more in line with an Agambenian approach.

[5] Negri considers Marx’s term “real subsumption” at great length in Marx beyond Marx (see note 3).

[6] Deleuze seems to be responding to a remark that was not recorded.

[7] In Deleuze’s writing, puissance takes on a sense of power as power of action, especially in the Spinozan context, whereas pouvoir relates more to power by domination.

[8] On Nicolas of Cusa and the “possest” in other contexts, see session 3 in the Spinoza seminar, December 9, 1980; session 14 of Cinema seminar 3, March 20, 1984; and session 17 of the seminar on Leibniz and the Baroque, May 12, 1987. See also Foucault, pp. 113-114.

[9] Deleuze makes the same links – of thought as emitting singularities with the chance of the dice roll – in Foucault, pp. 116-118.

[10] On game theory, see also session 2 in the first Leibniz seminar, April 22, 1980; and sessions 8 and 20 on the seminar on Leibniz and the Baroque, January 27 and June 2, 1987.

[11] The French is paver une surface and pavage. Because “paving” might mislead the English reader to think of smoothing or flattening out a road (or covering it with asphalt), it might be helpful to recall Leibniz’s Latin. It’s clear Leibniz means the process of filling out or covering the game board via the placement of tiles (tessellae). For the passage in question, see Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, Die philosophischen Schriften VII, ed. G. I. Gerhardt (Olms: Hildesheim, 1961), 303-4.

[12]In this instance, while “force relation” is a bit unnatural, a more natural translation such as “power balance” or “power struggle” would be too charged given the use of “power” in Foucault as well as in Deleuze’s discussion. Hence, “force relation” will be used throughout.

[13] Here and in what follows, the word tirage appears as “roll”, to be consistent with the game vocabulary of the dice roll, but more accurately could be translated as “draw” (as in “to draw lots,” to draw at random, tirer au hasard).

[14] “Space within” for l’espace du dedans, in accordance with prior Michaux translation. See Henri Michaux, Selected Writings, trans. Richard Ellmann (New York: New Directions, 1968).

[15] The translation for tableau corresponds to Paul Bové; in his Foucault translation, he cleverly renders it as “scene” (e.g., le tableau-description as “description-scene”). However, since Deleuze is here trying to draw up a visual aid for his course’s findings, the sense of “table” as a chart may also be appropriate.

[16] This discussion occurred in session 2 of the current seminar, October 29, 1985.

[17] The translation employs Melville’s original language, although the French translation admittedly plays more comfortably into Deleuze’s hands. Cf. Herman Melville, Pierre: Or, The Ambiguities (New York: Harper, 1852), 387-8.

[18] The entire graph and description inspired by Melville corresponds directly to the graph of the strata surrounding the zone of subjectification that Deleuze provides at the end of Foucault, pp. 120-123.

[19] Deleuze’s quote from memory is, as he says, more or less accurate. I tried to similarly adjust/abridge Faulkner’s original language to reflect Deleuze’s paraphrase. The original passage reads, “the two of us [Ringo and I] neither, not even people any longer: the two supreme undefeated like two moths, two feathers riding above a hurricane. So we were both at it; we didn’t see Louvinia, Joby’s wife and Ringo’s grandmother, at all. We were facing one another at scarcely arms’ length, to the other each invisible in the furious slow jerking of the flung dust, yelling ‘Kill the bastuds! Kill them! Kill them!’” William Faulkner, The Unvanquished (1938; New York: Vintage, 1991), 16. Deleuze cites Faulkner without naming the novel’s title in Foucault, p. 121.

[20] See also the analysis of this Melville text in session 6 of Cinema seminar 3, December 20, 1984, and also in session 13 of this seminar on Foucault, February 25, 1986.

[21] Deleuze has “the whale would run the line,” as the consequence, whereas Melville’s text reads, “and were the whale to run the line,” as a condition. “If […] the whale were to run the line out to the end almost in a single, smoking minute as he sometimes does, he would not stop there…”

[22] Our text follows Michaux’s translation by Varèse and Moschovakis. Henri Michaux, Miserable Miracle: Mescaline, trans. Louise Varèse and Anna Moschovakis (New York: New York Review Books, 2002), p. 126.

[23] We defer here to the Michaux translation but note that “accelerated line” may not be an ideal translation. The reader should bear in mind, when “accelerated line” appears, that time-lapse, fast-motion, and undercranking are all English equivalents for accéléré, the filming complement to slow-motion. First, something like “linear time-lapse” or “linear fast-motion” may have been more appropriate for Michaux himself: in the preceding paragraph, he contrasts his new linear state with “normal life,” in which one—as a sphere—views the world in panorama. Second, such a translation may be more likely in the context of this lecture because Deleuze had, years before in his Cinema lectures, discussed the use of fast-motion (le montage accéléré) in terms similar to those described here, that is, in relation to speed [vitesse] and movement. See session 3 in Cinema seminar 1, November 24, 1981.

[24]“L’homme est un être lent, qui n’est possible que grâce à des vitesses fantastiques.” Henri Michaux, Les grandes épreuves de l’esprit et les innombrables petites (Paris: Gallimard, 1966), p. 147. Translation: “Man is a slow being, only possible thanks to fantastic speeds.”

[25] Maurice Merleau-Ponty, “Eye and Mind,” The Merleau-Ponty Reader, eds. Ted Toadvine and Leonard Lawlor (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2007), p. 374.

[26] It is worth noting that Merleau-Ponty, in the original French, writes, “Les peintres l’ont toujours su” (emphasis mine); “painters have always known this”. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, L’Oeil et l’esprit (Paris: Gallimard, 1964), p. 81.

[27] Emphasis in the translation of cited text. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Visible and the Invisible, ed. Claude Lefort, trans. Alphonso Lingis (Evanston, Northwestern University Press, 1968), p. 215.

[28] On perspectives from Merleau-Ponty and others in this context, see Foucault, pp. 108-111.

[29] See session 18 of the same seminar, April 8, 1986.

[30] Cf. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans., eds. Paul Guyer and Allen W. Wood (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1998), B68.

Notes

For archival purposes, the transcription of this seminar by Annabelle Dufourcq took place starting in 2011 with the support of a Purdue University College of Liberal Arts grant. The translation was completed in September 2019, and subsequent revision of this session — updated transcript and translation — and time stamp were completed in April 2022, with additional revisions made in June 2022. Additional revisions were added in February 2024.

The updated transcript and translation of the Eric Alliez section were completed in May 2022. Alliez’s commentary runs approximately from the 2:50-35:57 marks of both part 1 and the complete audio files. While the low volume for this portion of the recordings at times makes Alliez effectively inaudible, the newly revised transcript reconstitutes Alliez’s intervention for the first time. Special thanks are owed to Graeme Thomson and Silvia Maglioni for their assistance in reconstituting the Alliez section.

Lectures in this Seminar

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Reading Date: October 22, 1985
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Reading Date: October 29, 1985
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Reading Date: April 8, 1986
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Reading Date: April 22, 1986
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Reading Date: April 29, 1986
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Reading Date: May 27, 1986
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Reading Date: June 3, 1986
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