“Guattari’s an amazing philosopher, particularly when he’s talking about politics, or about music.”
-Gilles Deleuze (Negotiations, p. 26)
(“Is there a hope for philosophy, which for a long time has been an official, referential genre? Let us profit from this moment in which antiphilosophy is trying to be a language of power.”) -Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari (Kafka, p. 27)
In a slightly modified form, I am taking up once again a title that had come to me naturally during a two-day study workshop I had organized in London in April 2008 at the Centre for Research in Modern European Philosophy (Middlesex University)(1). I was uneasy with the Colloquium-Form and had wished to think matters through the operative concept of the “collective assemblage of enunciation.” How successful this was, I am not sure. But the idea was to argue for the interest of studying the Guattarian body of writing for its own sake, all the while avoiding an exegetic practice that would simply reequilibrate the prevailing Deleuzology with a new commemorative (or worse, patrimonial) discourse of “schizo-analysis.”
Today I wish to add that by celebrating too hastily a militant exit from philosophy, such a discourse would inevitably miss something that is of a quite different nature and which should in fact found it, from the point of view of an early Guattari Effect of/within the Deleuzo-Guattarian adventure. Such an Effect, as effect, is the necessary starting point: a critique and clinic of philosophical discourse undertaken as a theoretical practice of transversalization-“on the absolute horizon of all creative processes” where political experimentation as such originates, from a Guattarian perspective that gives it a radical new meaning. That is to say: experimentation as the politics-and ultimately, to employ a phrase used by Deleuze in order to specify the alterity of Anti-Oedipus, as the political philosophy-of a theory-practice whose reality principle breaks with the philosophical Idea according to which “to think is always tointerpret.”(2) For if Deleuze sees Guattari as putting an end to his own longterm project of expanding philosophy and intensifying its interpretive regime so as to penetrate it with its own outside (which forces it to think), it is because Guattari brings along an altogether different potentiality which by 1968 is felt to be urgently lacking. Namely: to make philosophy exit itself by means of a project of decoding that realizes its textual capacity and its logic of meaning by investing the destruction of codes, a destruction whose process capitalism presents in a historical narrative inseparable from the semiotic machination of the subject. The Guattari Effect would engage in a becomingpolitical of philosophy, exited from its own self so as to acquire an absolute power of decoding within the social field, and whose first effect would be to undo the image of philosophical thought by cracking the codes of its materialideal form of interiority. So it is no longer a matter of suggesting another form of expression and a new style for the book “of philosophy” (in accordance with the famous warning in the Foreword of Difference and Repetition: “The time is coming when it will hardly be possible to write a book of philosophy as it has been done for so long…”), but rather of opposing to it an other regime of production that incorporates it into the material milieu by plugging it into the machinic reality conditions of the most exterior and the most interior forces.
Machine-Book, flow-book, a book that schizophrenizes philosophy by plunging it into a general semiotics impelled by the schizophrenization of the field of the unconscious that is coextensive with the social field. For this “new kind of book” is required in order to break with the “style of philosophy,” insofar-as Deleuze explains in 1972 in a Nietzschean intervention updated
to the anti-interpretive tenor of Anti-Oedipus-as in it “the relation to the exterior is always mediated and dissolved by an interior, in an interior” that calls for a hermeneutic reading casually commingling the codings that may have informed the book: sacred, bourgeois-contractual, institutional… Deleuze continues: “Hooking up thought to the outside is, strictly speaking, what philosophers have never done, even when they were talking about politics, even when they were talking about taking a walk or fresh air. It is not enough to talk about fresh air, to talk about the exterior if you want to hook thought up directly and immediately to the outside.”(3) There are distant echoes here of the philosopher’s earlier observations in The Logic of Sense on the “ridiculousness of the thinker” who, ensnared in the meshes of the structuralist logic of a psychoanalysis of meaning, discovers that no manner of serial game will hold up any longer to the schizophrenic reality of the Body-without-Organs that materializes all forces-beginning with words, which become physicalized and burst through the surface of meaning, swept into the depth of this “vital body” whose every intensity Artaud succeeded in introducing into “literature” (The Logic of Sense, Thirteenth and Twenty-Second Series). The “ridiculousness of the thinker” is that he does not know how to do philosophy in the present without a structuralist logic of meaning, even though he suspects he will have to renounce it if it is to cease being “abstract,” if he is to attain a “politics,” a “full guerilla warfare” (the quoted italics are Deleuze’s, in “Porcelain and Volcano,” The Logic of Sense, Twenty-Second Series, p. 158) that are no longer beholden to a “practice in relation to the products that [structuralism] interprets” (for the symbolic, the first tell-tale criterion of structuralism, is “the source, inseparably, of living interpretation and creation:” structural interpretation)…(4) One takes full measure here, in the negative, of the contingent necessity of the Guattari Effect, because no other “book” will emerge from the Body-without-Organs without an operative principle of “a writing inscribed on the very surface of the Real” that prizes open the bolt of structure and offers up a radically political alternative to the serial games. This, in Guattari’s trajectory, would mean the machinic development of transversality, which conforms to the distribution of the unconscious within the entire social body by implementing a new pragmatics of the knowledges that deterritorializes philosophy as much as it incorporates it into an artificial communism of ontological production whose radically post-Nietzschean openness is properly Guattarian. To quote Guattari, from one of his working notes sent to Deleuze in July 1970 under the heading “Power Signs”: “The sign is the site of the metabolism of power. […] If Nietzsche’s force constitutes a structural field, the machinic will to power sign constitutes discontinuous artificiality [Deleuze underlines the entire sentence]. The eternal return of the ‘machinic’ is not the mechanical repetition of the same in the same but an eternal return to machinism, as the being of production and the production of being, as the artifice of being and the irreducible character of the fabrication of being.”(5) “So, merger between the most artificial kind of modernism and the naturing nature of desire.” And elsewhere: “the real is the artificial-and not (as Lacan says) the impossible.”(6)
Such would be the thunderbolt of the first paragraph of Anti-Oedipus, which begins by turning thought into a war machine against the order of philosophical discourse in its “essential relation to the law, the institution, and the contract.”(7) All academic codes are shattered so as to untune philosophy to the machinic disorder of the it (“It is at work everywhere. It breathes, it heats, it eats. It shits and fucks. […] Everywhere it is machines—real ones, not figurative ones. […] Hence we are all handymen: each with his little machines”). This is also why the theme of desiring production—defined by the fact that “production as process overtakes all idealistic categories and constitutes a cycle whose relationship to desire is that of an immanent principle”(8) —de-structures the Book-Form to sweep the reader into a machinebook in which “there are not two planes of expression and content but
one single plane of consistency (= plane of machinic filiation),”(9) according to the Guattarian leitmotiv, in which we are called upon to produce our own transversal connective and disjunctive syntheses. For if “we cannot accept the idealist category of ‘expression’ as a satisfactory of sufficient explanation,” it is also because the reader must be integrated/disintegrated into a “machine of a machine” movement of that nature, a “law of the production of production” in which, “far from being the opposite of continuity, the break or interruption conditions this continuity: it presupposes or defines what it cuts into as an ideal continuity.”(10) It is in such a way that the intensive and energetic writing of Anti-Oedipus shifts the entire unconscious production process onto the reader-editor of a “writing inscribed on the very surface of the Real: a strangely polyvocal kind of writing, never a biunivocalized, linearized one; a transcursive system of writing, never a discursive one…”(11) This helps explain why Deleuze, in his “Letter to a Harsh Critic” (1973), where he reflects at length on his conception of an other reading (an “intensive way of reading, in contact with what’s outside the book, as a flow meeting other flows, one machine among others, as a
series of experiments…”) whose only question is “Does it work, and how does it work?” (the very first sentence of Anti-Oedipus declares so, that it is at work!), with a reader knowing to approach the book as “a little nonsignifying machine” (that is to say, a reader seized by the Guattari Effect relayed here by Deleuze)—this helps explain, that is, why Deleuze chooses to describe his encounter with Guattari by means of a succinct but unequivocal: “Out of that came Anti-Oedipus.”(12) This is what triggered the second period in Deleuze’s biography, when it became a matter no longer of doing philosophy (from an overdetermined relation to its history—however much Difference and Repetition did indeed turn the history of philosophy inside out), but of producing a critique and clinic of philosophy in which the assertion of the univocity of the real is measured by “pure reality breaking through” (68 is the Number of the Beast) whose principle is that there is something flowing, that there are break-flow effects that
link up all the while unbinding (an immanent disjunctive synthesis) and demand a new definition of the activity we call thinking that effectively conjugates machine and desire. Deleuze summarizes this materialist revolution in thought concisely, with a strange singular: “A philosophy amounted for me, then, to a sort of second period that would never have begun or got anywhere without Félix.”(13) That is to say, a political philosophy of a new kind, dependent in every way on a schizo-analysis of philosophy whose experimental protocol would be drawn up in the anti-genealogical terms of the rhizome-book, as a three-step operation:
first Kafka displacing Proust (“How can we enter into Kafka’s work? This work is a rhizome, a burrow:” such are the first lines of Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature (1975), “a Kafka experimentation without interpretation or significance”); then the rhizome itself standing as a Pop-philosophical manifesto with its principles of connectivity and heterogeneity, of asignifying rupture and mapping of real multiplicities (Rhizome (1976)); before being taken up again, in modified form, in the opening to A
Thousand Plateaus (1980) where philosophy is predominantly defined as a “logic of multiplicities.” And What Is Philosophy?—a question that can only be asked once the “desire to do philosophy” has passed, and whose association with Guattari’s name might indeed have surprised —, Deleuze and Guattari’s last book, seems no anomaly in this regard, its rich rhizomatic writing very much put into the service of a geophysics of the constructivist concept of a plane of non-philosophical, chaosmotic immanence, a concept into which thought plunges in order to borrow “from the chaos [of] determinations with which it makes its infinite
movements or its diagrammatic features.”(14) Schizophilosophy.
Having reached this point of crystallization at lightning speed, we have to slow down. Indeed we are going to have to rummage
through the toolbox of the man Deleuze introduces in 1972—the very year Anti-Oedipus was published, in his Preface to Psychanalyse et transversalité—as the encounter, in an “Anti-Self” with “schizophrenic powers,” of a political activist and a psychoanalyst: Pierre and Félix, Pierre-Félix Guattari. These powers, Deleuze emphasizes in order to immediately show how this turns psychoanalysis on its head, are put into the service of an effort to reevaluate psychosis, in an analysis of desire and the unconscious whose latency is coextensive to the social field, “entailing ruptures in causality and the emergence of singularities, sticking points as well as leaks.” It is in such manner that the Guattarian appropriation of Lacan (primacy of psychosis, the object “a” that Guattari cuts from its function of symbol of lack and its relation to the law in order to liberate a form of “group” machinic subjectivity whose stake is the “subjective consistency” of “social enunciation” geared towards “revolutionary rupture”) disappears in favor of “the difference here with Reich,” which precipitates (again I quote Deleuze) “the transformation of psychoanalysis into schizo-analysis.” A reader of Psychanalyse et transversalité, looking through Deleuzian tinted spectacles, cannot but be struck by the coupling effect thus produced in relation to Anti-Oedipus, whose archeology (archeology, as Foucault explains, allows for the analysis of “the very forms of problematization”) and genealogy (which is geared towards how “they arise from practices”) are here rendered in practice and in real time (both books were published the same year). As though the genealogical dimension produced from Guattari’s analytical-political practices, to which Deleuze devotes the substance of his preface (the encounter between a political activist and a psychoanalyst), allowed for the analysis of the medial formation of Anti-Oedipus on the very level of this unity of a plane of expression and content that propels their machinery (the archeological dimension) by the sheer fact that “political economy and libidinal economy are one and the same.” It is therefore all the more important to acknowledge that “legitimized schizo-flow” which, Deleuze argues, never ceased to propel Guattari and which Guattari managed to elevate to a “metaphysical or transcendental point of view” whose transversality (between “pure theoretical critique” and “concrete analytical activity”) amounts to a “machine of desire, in other words, a war-machine, an analyser.” And Deleuze concludes (we are quite ready for this) that the book, consequently, “must be taken in bits and pieces, like a montage or installation of the cogs and wheels of a machine. Sometimes the cogs are small, miniscule, but disorderly, and thus all the more indispensable [my emphasis].” He then points to—at the very end of his preface—the particular importance of two texts from Psychanalyse et transversalité: “a theoretical text, where the very principle of a machine is distinguished from the hypothesis of structure and detached from structural ties (‘Machine and Structure’), and a schizo-text where the notions of ‘sign-point’ and ‘sign-blot’ are freed from the obstacle of the signifier.” Where it is literally given to read that the semiotic critique of structuralism attacked at its linguistic core (signified/signifier) machines the problematization of Anti-Oedipus by placing the Deleuze / Guattari encounter under the very heading of this schizo-text, whose wording is as though stolen by the pen of Deleuze (you can check the English translation in Desert Islands, the title does not appear): “D’un signe à l’autre,” that could be literally translated as “From One Sign to Another.”(15)
It is important to remember here that the development that leads Deleuze from Proust and Signs (first published in 1964), in which interpretation rules as the forced master of the figure of thought, to The Logic of Sense (1969), where it is brought back into serial play, is in part owing to a coefficient of generation; a generational transference marked by structuralism, which Guattari dodges, politically, by means of the “coefficient of transversality” that institutional psychotherapy brought him to posit as the “object” of the endeavor of a “subject group” (as opposed to Sartre’s “subjected group”) and “of an analytic process” able to break with the “unconscious control of our fate” (“Transversality,” 1964) tying the latter to an eternal symbolic order.(16) A new starting point is necessary: “the definition of the subject as unconscious subject, or rather as collective agent of enunciation [my emphasis]” in order to avoid “reifying the institution, and for that matter society as a whole, as a structure”—which is what an unconscious said to be “structured as a language” threatens to do (“La psychothérapie institutionnelle,” 1962-1963; to be found in the same article, in passing but very much of its essence, is a critique of a Heideggerian philosophy founded on a “biunivocal correspondence between being and language […] that makes the investigation drift towards a series of articulations posited as fundamental, like fencing ‘cuts’ aimed at the very possibilities of expression.” More generally, Guattari speculates a little further on in the text: “Doesn’t postulating the existence of a social subjectivity and institutional objects, as we are doing, lead straight to the question of the nature of the philosophical object?” (“Réflexions pour des philosophes au sujet de la psychothérapie institutionnelle,” 1966). And it is precisely in this schizo-text of ours (“From One Sign to Another,” published in 1966, but whose argument, according to Guattari, was sent to Lacan in 1961) that structure, or “being-for-structure,” whose internal logic is not of the same nature as the desire that lies at the “root of subjectivity,” is opposed on this very question to the machine and to a “being-forthe-sign” irreducible to the internal logic of signifying chains. Far from the “inexorable signifying battery” ordaining everything down to “the finest poetic subtleties,” the latter would include the brute, nonsignifying materiality of the sign in “a one-of-a-kind sign prototype that would alone account for the entirety of creation…” So Guattari, in a process of continual negotiation with the Lacan of “The Purloined Letter,” understands the signifying break as a subjective break of the signifier that no longer depends on a-historical “linguistic effects” (this would help break out of the “structuralist dead-end” and the “Althusser operation”), because it is clear that “it can just as easily be played on a tom-tom, or written with one’s feet, as in the expression ‘voting with one’s feet’ when, say, choosing to walk out the door of a conference.”* Which, as Guattari immediately emphasizes in a side note to another 1966 intervention (“History and the Signifying Determination,” republished under the broader title
“Causality, Subjectivity and History”), means “an idea of the sign closer to Hjelmslev’s ‘glossématique’ than to [the] syntagmatics” of Saussure and Jakobson.(17) This is important since it is through Hjelmslev that Guattari would manage to definitively break free from Lacan (and break Deleuze free from Lacan), the Lacan of whom he would later say that he “flattened everything by choosing to work with really bad linguistics.”(18) Indeed, Hjelmslevian glossematics sets forth a distinction between the planes of expression and content that is not reducible to the gap between signifier and signified, insofar as the sign is at once and the same time the sign of a substance of content and the sign of a substance of expression. A flow-substance adapted to the deterritorialized nature of both capitalist and schizophrenic flows. Hence the principle of a semiotization of matter and a materialization of the sign which eliminates any form of dualism between form and substance, in a double deterritorialization that machinates language in an a-signifying direction “that works flush with the real” [in English in the original! Translator’s note] (Bruno Bosteels). Guattari would develop this semiotic machine further in his “metamodelizations,” as a micropolitical relation between the form of expression and the form of content, but that already at this early stage lays down its plane of immanence as the reality condition of those strange Guattarian figures, which are, to borrow from Anti-Oedipus, “no longer
effects of a signifier, but schizzes, points-signs or flows-breaks that collapse the wall of the signifier, pass through and continue on beyond.”(19) This also helps us understand why Deleuze chose to invert the order of presentation of the two texts highlighted at the end of his preface. For the solution of machinic destructuration suggested to Deleuze by Guattari in “Machine and Structure” in order to break out of the aporias of The Logic of Sense (“to relate exclusively to the order of the machine” the differentiator of the heterogeneous series used by structure as its principle of emission of singularities: The Logic of Sense, Eighth Series: “Of Structure”), namely to place the machine at the heart of desire thereby establishing the subjective break as “the distinctive trait of every order of production” (whereas structure’s representative mode is an anti-production system
here equated with Marxist theory’s “production relations”), goes hand in hand with the “opening up of a pure signifying space where the machine would represent the subject for another machine.” That is to say, we are still caught within a machinic interpretation of the Lacanian objet “a”— which threatens to “break into the structural equilibrium […] like some infernal machine” (we encounter that expression echoed in Anti-Oedipus, p. 83)—that enlists representation to ultimately summon back the “purest” signifier in a manner of Lacano-Marxism pushed, here and there, to its limits. With the difference that this signifier, broken off from the symbolic order of structure, has no “possible written form” in history as a site of the unconscious or marker of “the class struggle at the very centre of unconscious desire.”(20) Hence once more the importance of the warning with which Guattari’s presentation begins and which would become the matrix of his work with Deleuze: that this proposed distinction between machine and structure “is based solely on the way we use the words.” That being said, the fullest possible use of this distinction—following Guattari himself—ultimately demonstrates the impossibility of locating a Guattari Effect outside the Deleuzo-Guattarian—or Guattaro-Deleuzian— adventure. Here are Guattari’s own words, from a long conversation with
Michel Butel in 1985: “ The miracle for me at that point was the encounter with Deleuze. It was working madness of a kind I had never experienced before. It was a learned and prudent, but also radical and systematic endeavor of demolition of Lacanianism and of all of my previous references, and an effort to cleanse the concepts that I had “tested out” but had not been able to fully extend because they remained too bound up with it. A certain “deterritorialization” was needed, of my relation to the social, to La Borde, to conjugality, to psychoanalysis, to [my group from] the FGERI [Federation of Institutional Study and Research Groups], so concepts such as for instance, the “machine” would acquire their full effect… […] The philosophical bracing, and especially my long-term workwith Deleuze gave an entirely new efficacy to my first attempts at theorizing.”(21) Thus the “encounter with Deleuze” became the agent of and condition for the theoretical deployment of deterritorialization as formulated by Guattari… whose transversality had as most immediate result to make both men “exit” psychoanalysis, so as to better schizophrenize philosophy and have it come unhinged! In this double deterritorialization, or if one prefers this cross-capturing of the wasp and the orchid, any distinction between code and flow vanishes. Here is what Guattari writes in his Introduction to L’Inconscient machinique: Essais de schizo-analyse (1979), which lays out the substance of the Pragmatics that would be developed in A Thousand Plateaus (a politics of language): “Even though I wrote them alone, these essays are inseparable from the work that Gilles Deleuze and I have been carrying out together for years. That is why, when I shall be speaking in the first person, it will be indifferently in the singular or the plural. […] Here again, it is entirely a matter of ‘collective assemblage’.”(22)
It remains that the collective assemblage, a conspicuous case of multiplicity transformed into a theoretical-practical concept opposed to structure, is a concept signed Guattari, given how directly its genealogy echoes his “group-subjects” and the collective agent of enunciation we saw emerge with its “coefficient of transversality” (in a violently anti-structuralist context, as we shall remember, which Guattari would time and time again call back to attention and intensify, because the driving characteristic of structuralist formalization is to cut off the production of statements from their collective assemblages(23). It might in fact be interesting to develop the Guattari of the Guattari Effect, on the basis of this operating concept to which he relentlessly returned, in a sustained articulation with the concept of “desiring machine” (which for its part would vanish from the writings signed Deleuze and Guattari following Anti-Oedipus, replaced precisely with the concept of “assemblage”). It is for that matter worth noting that in the immediate aftermath of Anti-Oedipus, the Deleuze and Guattari writing machine would shift its efforts toward an initial exposition of the various aspects of the concept of assemblage around which the entire book on Kafka and minor literature would be constructed. This is because “an assemblage, the perfect object for the novel, has two sides: it is a collective assemblage of enunciation; it is a machinic assemblage of desire. Not only is Kafka the first to dismantle these two sides, but the combination that he makes of them is a sort of signature that all readers will necessarily recognize” (last chapter: “What Is an Assemblage?”). Kafka, Guattari’s favorite author, would thereby offer him a pretext to develop an intensive politics of deterritorialization of language and its markers of power, mapping onto the micropolitical question of enunciation the constitutive articulation of Anti-Oedipus between machine and desire, which submitted philosophy to a constructivist regime of permanent experimentation (and social experimentation). For there is “no machinic assemblage that is not a social assemblage of desire, no social assemblage of desire that is not a collective assemblage of enunciation.”
The statements produced by such an assemblage would serve as its cogwheels; its proliferating singularity on a plane of immanence yet to be built would be able to preempt the collective conditions of enunciation by shattering forms, by marking ruptures and new junctures. In other words, “an expression machine capable of disorganizing its own forms [starting with the philosophical form! Author’s note], and of disorganizing its forms of contents, in order to liberate pure contents that mix with expressions in a single intense matter”(24)—into which an assemblage can plug itself, plug its becomings-revolutionary.
The claim here is that the Guattari Effect depends in every respect on this expression machine which he would never cease to bear witness to (in his analysis practice as well as in his polyphonic immersion in a multitude of group-subjects) and to scrutinize in a speculative signesthesia whose experimental protocols (in terms of the micropolitics of its semiotic assemblages) are revealed by his schizoanalytical cartographies (within and beyond the work that carries that title). For the “miracle” of capitalism is the production of a capitalistic subjectivity, whose contemporary semio-mediatic subjugation is ample evidence that it has managed to “pilot language, as it is spoken, as it is taught, as it is televised, dreamt, and so on, in such a way that it remains perfectly adapted to its own evolution.”(25) Thereby becoming, from an economic perspective, the miracle of Integrated World Capitalism and its sign-producing structures, which constitute its primary production because in them the mode of production relates directly—that is to say: machinically—to the relations of production (the machinic subjugation of the media era replaces ideo-semiological subjection).
Hence the pressing urgency of what Guattari called a “mental ecology” in his Three Ecologies, tying it to a “logic of intensities, or eco-logic.” In capsule form, this would mean promoting a reappropriation of the means of subjectivity production by first decentering the question of enunciation from its linguistic structuration (exiting Language) and orienting it instead toward the heterogeneous expressive materials (Hjelmslev’s “nonsemiotically formed matter”) that found the operators of discursivity, all the while minimizing the machinic interfaces of this “abstract material of the possible.” A unique exercise of cartography of assemblages would ensue, in which the external point of view gives way to a heterogenesis of the existent that equates the abstract-concrete machinic exploration of otherness, at its point of maximal precariousness and possibility, with the destruction of the entropy of significational equivalences that characterizes the capitalistic Universe. “The emphasis is no longer placed on Being—as general ontological equivalent, which, in the same way other equivalents do (Capital, Energy, Information, the Signifier), envelops, encloses and desingularizes the process—it is placed on the manner of being, the machination producing the existent, the generative praxes of heterogeneity and complexity.”(26) The genesis of enunciation is itself caught up in this movement of processual creation. And now, addressing philosophers (and Deleuze): “Being does not precede machinic essence; the process precedes the heterogenesis of being.”(27) Guattari-Deleuze had warned us: the machine is not a metaphorical figure. But now we must make do with this Guattari Effect, with the a-disciplinary politics of the concept updated to the era of the molecular revolution of Machine-Thought.
The very late Guattari, as we know, called out for a new aesthetic paradigm. A call he would always immediately amend, proto-aesthetically, by foregrounding its processual and transversalist dimension. Thus usefully pointing out a few dead-ends.(28)
—Translated by Eric Anglès
* Lecture delivered on 11 January 2010 at the University of Bochum’s Institut Für Medienwissenschaft, upon the invitation of Erich Hörl. Text translated by Eric Anglès.
1. Most of the conference’s papers were published in French in “L’Effet-Guattari” (“The Guattari-Effect”), a special section of Multitudes 34, 2008.
2. Gilles Deleuze, translated by Richard Howard, Proust and Signs: The Complete Text, Minneapolis, University of Minneapolis Press, 2000 (original: 1964), p. 97.
3. Gilles Deleuze, translated by Michael Taormina, “Nomadic Thought,” Nietzsche aujourd’hui conference (1972), in Desert Islands and Other Texts 1953-1974, New York, Semiotext(e), 2004 (original: 2002), p. 255.
4. Gilles Deleuze, “How Do We Recognize Structuralism?” (1972 – but written in 1967), in Desert Islands, op. cit., pp. 191, 173. Note that Deleuze’s article ends with the observation that criteria leading from the subject—subjected to structure—to praxis are “the most obscure—the criteria of the future,” a future dependent in every way on a mysterious “structuralist hero.”
5. Félix Guattari, translated by Kélina Gotman, The Anti-Oedipus Papers, New York, Semiotext(e), 2006 (original: 2004), p. 224.
6. Ibid., pp. 99, 149.
7. Gilles Deleuze, “Nomadic Thought,” op. cit., p. 259.
8. Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, translated by Robert Hurley, Mark Seem and Helen R. Lane, Anti-Oedipus, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1977 (Tenth printing 2000) (original: 1972), pp. 1, 5.
9. Félix Guattari, The Anti-Oedipus Papers, op. cit., p. 207.
10. Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, op. cit., pp. 6, 36.
11. Ibid., p. 39.
12. Gilles Deleuze, translated by Martin Joughin, Negotiations, New York, Columbia University Press, 1995 (original: 1990), p. 7.
13. Ibid., pp. 144-145, pp. 136-137.
14. Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, translated by Hugh Tomlinson and Graham Burchell, What Is Philosophy?, New York, Columbia University Press, 1994 (original: 1991), pp. 1, 50.
15. Gilles Deleuze, “Three Group-Related Problems,” in Desert Islands, op. cit., pp. 193-203.
16. Félix Guattari, translated by Rosemary Sheed, in Molecular Revolution: Psychiatry and Politics, 1984 (original: 1972), London, Penguin, pp. 11-23.
17. Félix Guattari, in Molecular Revolution, op. cit., p. 181.
18. Félix Guattari, The Anti-Oedipus Papers, op. cit., p. 152.
19. Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, op. cit., p. 242.
20. Félix Guattari, in Molecular Revolution, op. cit., pp. 111-119.
21. Félix Guattari, Les Années d’hiver (1980-1985), Paris, Bernard Barrault, 1986, pp. 85-86.
22. Félix Guattari, L’inconscient machinique: Essais de schizo-analyse, Paris, Recherches, 1979, p. 15.
23. Ibid., p. 24.
24. Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, translated by Dana Polan, Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1986 (original: 1975), pp. 81, 82, 28.
25. Félix Guattari, L’inconscient machinique, op. cit., p. 28.
26. Félix Guattari, translated by Paul Bains and Julian Pefanis, Chaosmosis: an ethico-aesthetic paradigm, Paris, Galilée, 1995 (original: 1992), pp. 24, 109.
27. Ibid., p. 108.
28. About a Guattari Counter-Effect (i.e.: an Anti-Guattari-Effect), see for instance my “Post-scriptum sur l’Esthétique relationnelle,” Multitudes 34, 2008.