Deleuze And the Unconscious (Continuum Studies in Continental Philosophy)

Introduction ror a period of ~ ~ yean before the pubfialtion of the ftnt volume -of bi! wn~ lllaW:rplece ~ -.4 ~ ~ (19...

Author: Christian Kerslake

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Introduction

ror a period of ~ ~ yean before the pubfialtion of the ftnt volume -of

bi! wn~ lllaW:rplece ~ -.4 ~ ~ (19'12, co-autborm with Felix Gwarwi), Gi11e& Deleuze explored a Dwn~ af different theories of the tln(:OQtdOWi. He appears 1IQ have inbabin:d a wnishlng njch~ in French intellEctual cull:Uf~ ~rf! Piem'! janet's psychology 'Of the UficorOOous 5till lr.l.d some parity wiUi Sigmund Freud'., Deleuze went poo\OUng in 8. number of ob!lcurepla<;es, ffilt of aight of we daylight Conr:emJl of ~ culture and times: 8eTgllOn'll ~ of instinct and memory, JungJaniomi. symbolism, Bachofen, (Johann 'Ma.liattl and Hoene \\'rol'lskl). Gustav Fe
.em.wis..

2

of the 1IlJbject' (CC ~) that KAnt had tint inadw:rtentlr uncow::red in the C~,oJ.Pure ~ (and which found a fUrtive. explo..;ive expression in H:)lderlw s descnption of the ~c Oedipw. (OK $, 89), \\-'hat Deleure n~je<:ted in p~~h~ii was iu ongoing inability to &al with the phenomf:na of pychom, and i l l the psydloo..:: phenomena that puncttJ.il.te neurosis and ,l:he ~ of ~dMduationin general. In ont respect at teast, the 'A.ntiOedipus IS. the berng that emerge! after me shau~ring of 'Oedipm', For Lacan (mo~mg beyond F~ud), the Oedipw complex COOSWl'Ull<\l':oes iuelf in the d1$5()lutton ~d depernonali:zation of Oedip~ at CO!OfiW. 'Oedi.pm says: Am I made ~ to tb<' hour wh~ I cease to be~ That i.I the ~d of OedipUJi'! psvcboanalysts - the pm:hoon:al}'51J1 of Oedipm is only compli!'t~ at CokmU!1. when. he tear!. his face apart. That is the essential moment, whkh ~ his story us meaning' (yean 1954-5: 214). S1avoj ZiUk writes of dtt 'horror' of Oedipus at Colonw, who 'round himself reduced to Ii kind 1)£ soap bubble bum. asunder - a 5Ct5 slimf. without an}' mpr;on ~ the symbolk order' (Ziie~ 2001: 21). For L.ac:anian psychoanaJr>i.'l, the Real must be f~r kfPt at a di.stmce, on the other side ofthe symbolic order. What mun be a'll1)ided m ail Cj)$U is the slide into psychosis. whkh 14 ch~cterized.as the totAlo;JUapse of!JeIf-ref1exi.-e !'>u~tirity. For 2iZek, Hegel was right [0 des.crlbe madness <1$ a withdrawal into the 'night of the although 'bt' all too quickly (;Oli~jYe$ of this withdrawal. as a ~regreSlSiQn" to rhe level 9f the "anima) soul" ~ embedded in its natural em·irons and determined by the rbythm. of~' (Zi.iek.1998: 258). Deleuze mesa oompl.e:telv different VleW ofps)lCboslS. derived fromJung, and <:loaer to Hegersown view:

wwId"

"'hat regression brings to the surface cerWnly seems at fmn: light to be slime from the depths; but if one does nor stop short at a !Uperficial evalu,adon ~ .re-fraine &om paWfig judgment on me basis of a prewliceived dogma, It.will be found that this '!lime' contains not ~reo/ incompatible and

re,reCted rernnaIlo of e\'eryday life, or incoDwmient and ()~e;:tiollab)e tendendtl$, but 4W.o gfl11U of new Ii&; and vit:I1 posr>ibiHtie8 fur the future. (CW 8: 34)

In an early. pieu. ~1~11Z1" endonc!sjung's view rhat 'FI'ellwan methodolOHi-e, are appropOiote I.'lwNy fhr ynu.og- neurotics ',dime dillOf'ders :ttc' related to ~rsonal remini5cenU5 :lnd. whose problems are about recondfing thermelYet MW the 1'I!6l (Joviug, maki~ Orleselflcw.able, adapting, etA:. L without regard for the role of any interior confli.cbl' (SM 1~3). The lcind of ~bopatfwlogies an~ by Fr~ud are tbw primarily WlIOrdel"ll of adapl:aliou, and he ~fu.ted. to OOUtltenance mar 'there dl'e neurmes of quite another 1.l'pe which ~ ne.arer to ~bo.tis' (ibid.), For Jv.ng and Delewe, Hli pt'Oce5ses ofindividuation invol\le a fundamental p$j'Chotic moment: 'The who.le Cl>UI'Se ofindiYidlDtiQu a diakcri cal, arui the: llO'i:alled ·end~ ill the confrom:ation of the egt> with the .emptim~. ~ the centre. Here the limit <4 the poaOfe expel"ierice i$ reached: the ~go dWolvell as the reference-point of~'
The m ~ of DeJeuze'! and Guattari's ~m 4ftd&~iaisunset·

tling: we have :urlved at a hOOorical point where we no longer haw:: religious or ll:IOl'a1 protection agallul me madness thai ill inherem to the: human mind. 'The two volumes of Capit41iJm and Sah:IZDphtmaa.. whiclt :m; necessarily extravagant and delirious, are attempts to map out thi! new space, in order to learn to navigate and control it for a higher (l'W"(I'Qlle Abhough We human being ~ the 'king of creation" it. is 'the being who jg in. intimate contaCt with the profound life of all forms or;ill~, ofbeingl. 'Who is ~ for nen the stan and animal life . , . lh~ ('ternal CUllUldian. of the machlnes of the ~rse' (AO 4). Deleuze ill connected l.O a ~tion of ttlought about the WtConscious which ill older than freud's. and mort: rooted in the pbilollophkJl.1 tradition. 1''01' Leibna and Schelling, the 1a5k of me human being W';lS to pass through the unconscioQUS in order to ~ ful.1 CO!Udo'Wne$$, At one level, &his proc. iakfl$ pIau duri.ng what LeIhni:l:" Jung and Deleuze a.l1 call 'indmduation', But at another Le¥eJ, it occun a<::TO!lI hwnan culture, in areas we have been condiuoned (by the success of psychoanalysis in the twentieth century) not to \lee all Mte:lo of unoonKious activity. The eni;OWlt:er wim rhe L"l."lUOt1sdous is continually to be kit puahing from the other side of modem cu.ltJlre, nO( just in psychopathology, but in the cinema of the ~"'a:f period. in modem music. in occu.ltism and in drug-explonrion. The unC<.msciOUll hal not \lant!ihed at all. we ~ still lost in its jungle. perhaps eve1'l IDilJ'e than before. New approaches to the Ullronsc:ioWl are needed to ~ the full range of im inhabitantll. What follows is nQ more than a series of attempted ~ on DeJcw'.es hive of ideas about the u.noon.sciOWl, I have left as many gates open. and laid out all many different options fm'mterpretari<m, as pos&lbJe. The book could serve all a source book. for a reading of ~ on the unconscious, although there are plenty of om.Uisions and probably lotS of o~'eI'Sig;hl8 too, I have ended up a-eati.ng thi:s as inevitable p~ ~ subject, which il£ a fascinating and complex one. and I hope other, better boob are written on il before too lon'll' A lot of attention is paid here to Dt'"~e'll. early work and influences, upon which much light $till needl. to be shed. lhe doctrines of A ~ iU"e roootly OO1ittlld, ~ beca"USie a dear account of the work is already .available in Eug~ne Holland's l111.mdtu:tibn ttl All~ (Holland 1999), and partir beeaUJe' the book atremptll to UIlCover die theoretka.l bai:kgroWld to that work. and itll sequel. A ~ Pf.aJ.eaw. The book ~ not a general introduction to De1ew:e (or even to Deleuze and the unconscious), and there is WlfonWlaldyahio little of clinical rele\.-ance heef(', ttl part because Deleuze's approac~ to the unconscious are not restr1<:1ed to pathology. but include '3(tive' approach¢~ (0 &he unconscious (an. intOlckarion. magll:').f ~ <:hapu'B are written from a phiJOS()phic:al. not a 'h~a.re' perspectiv«! - although Ihere is c:enainlywork to be done about Deleuze'f and Guawtri'. 'schb!oanalysis' from the latter ~pective. The aims ()f philOtOpby and plyChiaU1 are difierent., and th~ is no reall<)n why this .should DOt be so .in th~ ~ of the unconscious, whiclt bas its own hbtol)' in IlOt

4

phUosopbi<;al thought. N~rthe~ ~ will see for themselvt'l that I h3Nt' not always been abk to te~ the :' Deleuze. but 1 confe!ll; that the wig may have slipped on occasion, out of lltUpefied f.a!lcination u moch a& c:arel~ea. WIth DeleUT.(: more than anv other ~t Freru.:h philOllOpher. we are (\)fced lO SUlpeJ1d OUT nonns .mou"t what cOtUututel! 'philosophy', even that son of pbikwlophy done in thai: thorougblydubiow !ieldknown as 'continental'. H~rt 1have heM obliged lOworit no\jUSf 3& a 'philosopher', but more ipeCmcally:.u _ detecd:ve, a paKi fool, on the trail ofan enigmatic. slighdy prepollreroUS flpn:. rather dandified by all atX»Unu, with long fingernails (d. N !i) J whme Dame everybody ~ to know, but about whom curiously very little has ye'1 been ~tahl.imed.

Chapter 1

The Pathologies of Time: The Unconscious Before Freud In the wike of the ~ of Darwinimt and modem physiological and pn}'Siad. lciena: lit the tum uf the twentiettl (mUlry, manyef(ol"tA were tmder way to !lee bow far the pbf$iologica1 and biotogieal approache8 to conllcioos-neg could go. 'Ihe theori~ ()f the UJt~ ittri\Ycd ;at independently and i ~ by ~ and Freud alCQ e~ OUt of attemplll to pu$h the p~caJ and biological frameworb to their limits, albeit in f1I.djcally ()ppoMg~ BerpOh'sMmt.l!rtmdMemm,~~pub1Uhedin 1896, ll~:Ilfiu Freud w.mtIi! uu»publbbed 'P!fChology for neurologiftu' , ~ flJr a~ ~ Both works begin with a, bask physiological frameowork - the neflex arc and proeeed from there to an account of the e-e.'OlUtiODary IlldwnUlgft and diadvantase& of complex nervous ~tni. But both troth n:suIt in condmi:oos that

!let

dleir ..who.., apart from the mainst:ream of ~i:.dng

Iheoria of the mind. Both authon dUcQver that me ptoceu thaI should really be given a prWllege in the mind ili not cQlUt'iousnm at all, bur the unconsdouil. It is !:he UDc:on. scious that gives riu: to the real.pur between human beinp and the rest of nature, not consdoUUlCIlS. FM Freud. dlili infight led to the abanOOnment of neurophysiology. ~ the 1a:wI of the unc:onsdoU8 pm£elI:IM':S appeared to have a logic of their mm: (~nt. oondel'llllUion. reprelillion. etc,) wbk:h deJerved anafv5is in its own tennll. rather than in dire'1!y physical terms, Freud iiCrepted dw. it wa'S impossilik to directly match wishes, desin:$ and seniebeari,ni phenomena with ph.yaiologica1l1tW!a, 60 he pUt off the project for ~ 'scientilk poychology'. For BetglIon, the insight into the impon:ance of the tmcorw:ioul autle dIrough his reafu:.ation thu rnttnory cannot be appt"OaChed as a purely ~ procell&, b«a~ the human aw..&rc:rtes of time and. In pank:War, the past. introduces a new kind of proeeu into the bmin.. I1kmoria canoot be explained in term.ll of the Imdn; racher the humlm brain ~ ibaped w moulded the pure mcm'Jrlt:lJ that <:onRiwre the put. MenKlria for the most part are ~us. and !K) the moot <:I'taraaemtic aspect of human cognition Illtmconscioull. Delewe ta.ke$ Berp:m's dMCO\1ery atI a tbaltenge w transeendental philosophy; from n(lW 00.. rather than focusing OJ) ooll$;io~ the I.ramI::endent3l philosop.bet' mUll explore synthes.es of time wltic:h are un~ From our van t1'lgIe point .. century later. it is saU.ing h<Jl'l the influence of the :Berg8on-Janet .rradiOOn ~ to b~ been somehow abruptly extmpooed

at'QU¥

TkP~()fThnt

7

Thf> peculiar Bergronian p5YChology of memory that dominated the begin· ning of me tw€nrieth century might therefore J1l)w appear to be nothing more than a cunOU.'l anomaly rhat mainly begs foe treatrm:nt bv in~llectuaJ mgtor1an$. However. the Startling fact is thilt it is fUp.clamclluI to the:: fJlPICho. logicaJ though t of Deleuze. who r.endi ttJ ~ thought of as- one of the most. 'oontemporary' of French philosophers. Deleuze began writing OIl 8erpm in the earlv 1950s and Bergson's theory of tim~ remains fundamental to all of bill phil~sophical work. )-!ig fuD~t statemeiit of what is living in Bergson' 5 plulosophy is his ~of1966, although the Cifuma Ixlob of the I9SO!; are also apKcidv de"\'eJoped wi-min a del.aikd Bergsotllim framework. In remming to Bergson. Deleuze ran ag:riullt me ude, and in J972 he l-e-marq that 'people .. , laugh at me simply for baling written about Jlergwn at all' IN 6). However. Dekure's return w BergllOi1 w;u a return I;(J aspecu in 8ergJOn" theory rhat fell ouWde the cariotunl \oiew of' it as an aflinnadon of Heradh.e-an flux or novelty. F<>r DeleU7~, it W2!I not me well-known theory of duration that is :Rergson'8 lI\OSt &ignilit:mt oomribution to t:hc:,> philosophy of time. but his theory of memory. 11m theory, which is i.ncredibly baroque and COW1:teI'·intuitl.,,-e. and :remains $0 in ~Iel.lze, prr:n.ides Dele\J.2'.e ~ith me basis fur hiJl awn theory of the unco0iC101.lS. There are aIro key references ro ]a.nct and Jung in Deleuze's work. For DelcUU!, tbe notion of the unconsdoWl cannot be adequately treau:d ouwde ofan Ilc<;ount of the temporal syntheliell that chara<:t.ertze human oogniti~n, De1cl.lU' develops and elabantes Bergson's and Jan~'g these$ on memory and arrives at a theory that ~ distiru.:~, but recognizably indebred to the early Fren<:h theory of the Wl(:OnscIDU~. [t is therefore not surpriring \:hat Deleuze's .first approach to the notion of the unwlUCious is thrt:iugh lung ratheJ than Fn:ud, What was me eMtntial difference between the Fren,h and Vrepne1lc notlQnS of the unconscious:> In 1898. Freud "'''rore to F!ieM, '1 open~d:a recently published book. by 12nel., HysJmir n I.t1kt ~ with a pounding bem and pm it lI$id(' again wit.h my pulse calmed. H~ has no inlding of tlu: key' (Letter of 10 Ma:l'ch 1898. Masson 1985: 3(2). The key. of COl.tne, is se::ruality. ff('ud ackn<>Wledged that memorie& were the 11'\()8L tllMous examples of UUIZOflliCious psychic ~WS. but he iU'gued that appe
Itmlghl seem surpri:ring 1.0 place Deleuu\ who is known as a phililiKlpher of .d8i,re'. in the- &rgs.ou-Janet tradition of conceptualizing the Wlconscious md ~opathologyin tetJn$ of the fr3mework of memory and time, rather than mat of ~ty. However, as we will ~, the d.iffere~ ~fWeen '~ire'

s

9

and 'sexuality' \\'$ key fOl"Jung, whQ$fl theo~ Dc1eu.ze explicitly affirmed in 196L In ~ and ~ DeJ.e.w:e develops a theory of the 'synthesis of ~ernory' whkh he holds is also a 'synthesis of Eros', In it. Deleuze implies &u Freud w.all a 'Victim of an illusion about thl!' krWI.1 aetiology of psychopathology. Sexual eorttent ill 1IO impon3JU in matw "'fll.U'OSeS ~ it is necei8arllv futed upon during the proees& of a shift that 0CCIll'S at a panicularh. cnJdal stage of psychological development (adoleK:eflC'e). It is not the C4&l1U plI}'CoopatOOlogy (or. indeed, of the uncQwcious). The iM1thesis of memon:

dA.:e";

dr

by Wclf uro.tnes, .ahnost u a b)--product, a specUk 'erotic· function during th~ procC3~ of individu3) psychological development. Elsewhere rn: polnt8 OUt

that many other disorders, Nch u schimpbrenhl.. rnanic.~ression. Of the neuroses of ~ in their tb.inia and above. are Mt cauaed bf Il!xual problel:Wl, ahbough sexuality might play a role in mem. Deleuze'~ account of lleXUality is non-Freu.dlan &om the beginning. Moreover, Deleute', first work on sexuality occur:red in the context of theories of ~ and his main inilu. etl<ei were Bergson and Jung. in conjunction with anthropological theories from Malinowski and Hume, Fr-eudWu have gone to great lengtlu to distin. guis"h 'Fri8b (drive) nom instintt, but in the beginning Delem.e squarely situ.a.ta hirnseJt 00 the side of instinct. Prom the out.v!t DeIeu2e Been1& k> have Been the pote'ntial in Bergsoniml fur a non-Freudian refOrmulation of the basic themes of psychoart3.lwi.s,

Bergson and Duration The Ili.mpleu way to begin to di:s$olve Ihe apparent aberration involved in De1etuc's rel'W'tt to ~n /$ to begin wtth. the (act that what is UllUal1y ta1:.en to he most central to 'Betgsoni:l$m' - tbe notion 0{ du.ratl~ expounded in 8ergst)n's lint hook. the Euuy OIl tNt 1~ J)<Jt,a fJl ~l'i.llQ (tranllla1.ed u r_ t:md..f1me WillI - is a.et'l:S.1ly the mere ponat In a much more inte~g and profou.nd theory of memory. Dekwe't decillion to entitle his book &pminn is mUll. polemical. insofar as he redefines ~i1at i$ of central mrereu

In~.

8ergsoni!ml bas often been J-educed to the following idea: duration is sub~, and tonsntutes our intemallife. And h. 1$ true that Bergson had to aprea himelf in this way, at k88t at the OUtaet. But increasingly, he came to say !IOD'let.b.ing quite different; the only ~ty is time. non
1>eleme's depiction \If the framework towilrds which Berge;on mowed is not

to.,-

e.xa(:tly peUorid here. but it is enough that the 'nnn-chronOO:lgicaJ t.imerefesred to concerns 1llI;mory. for Berpln, oW' memories coexist with oW" present, and ads of memory must be taken a" d1$c1)ntinuoos KlI."tieS lnro a preS(:rved past composed of iJlI Q'Wn stratified formations. Bergson's bizarre but

comprUinr theory of melQ()ry le3ds towards a very di!ferent, rnucb moce ccmple.ll., theory of time than the notion of duration,

In the &sat OR fM 1 ~ Data oj ~ duration is really defil'led by succeili:m, ~xJstences referring back to space, and by the power of novd.ty. repecirion refeJring back to Mauer. But., more profoundly. duration i& only llWJCession rel.atively~g (we have seen in the same way that it is only .indirlsible rebuively). Ducation is ind.ecd ~ mcCeaHon, but i.t is !IO only Uetauae, more profOundly, it is virtr.I.aJ ~ the '~tence with iuelf of all the ~IJ. all the tensions, all tht' degrees of contraaion and relaxation. (860} :Ddeum by nO means ignores the notion of duration. but he sees it u the philOllOphy rather than its «:ntre. 8efun: it leads to memory. it tint leads to what will be the key concept of Deleuze'~ revision of ~ to Bergson's

Kant's 1ran&cendentidA.estbetic. the notion o£ 'mwmve difference', &18 aue. as Berp:m Siil}'5 in the ~ that taking dum100 seriously tneltN that we must. abandon any theory of mind which con~~ of mental comeRt in Ienns or discrete. ~d repre.semations which. ~ indifferent to temporal ehange. The conacloQ& mind (in K.mtian renns 'inner sense') is ~talIy durlltional. and itl! content5 are therefore millc~if r~nred spaUally. But what thill meatnJ is that, tnso£ar iIli the mind is duraw:mal It ill. host to a ~ intensi~ - a$ opposed to extensive - form of developmental differ· entiation. From. ('hlldhood In adulthood, me mind pIl.SlleS through int.emM: thresholds that etCh ~ entail ~Don of its mnemk contem and pr.lCtic3l aimt, Hen.ce it !n.a.kelIlIetl.Se tl) begin our investigatiQl\ with DeIeuze' $ refonnubtioo of Bergsonian duration. In his ~nd book, Mo.Jt. ~"" ~ (1896). Bergson complete~ re«:>nceptwilizes. his oodoo of duration IlO that it now te!llifies to an ~wei8htof memory, wbile the role of e ~ ness becomes almoet exclusively practical and .Focuied 00 the ~ In the &ury on the ~ Di:It4 of ~ 'bctwe-."el", d'W'atioo i& $imply ideno. fied as the fundaulental medium of. .boIogie:alli£e, DurMion it identified with ~es In general. to the exrenc mat Bergson d<eniea that duration is a feature of the o ~ world. A rough general !lke:b:b of w position can be gfYen. before we qualify it in cerorin crudal retpeeU. Mental life is .DOl ~ of dltcreu: ~matfoN. The way mental representatiQJ\J appear is fundamentally aft'ected ~ the form of thea appeatance. The form. of lbeir appearant'~ is ~ dm:arion. in which teprelentauom are never ~ and ho~MoUt.but hlend m1tJ each otheT, in a 'heremgeneoU$ condnWty' (~n 1889; 128). Mental r~tatiom must appev a5 part oh developing mental whole, which :is in. one respe<:t enduring (it prolongs the experiences'of the past), and in another respect. open to nmeJEf (the accumulation of the past in the present means ~t one tends to bring an inc~ -eomplex mental backgroo.nd to what one expcrimu:t:ll now, which :ma.k.es ~ l'ien(:e of repeawd event$ qualitatively difl.eJent ro their put occurrem:et).

The Pat~ (}fTimt

10

Duration and Intensitj· Bcrgwn '5 theo-ry of duration is bulll on h.i& critique of '~hOph)'lliCll' in the tint chapter of his nr'S! boot.. the Ew1:J 1m the J~ lJt:ruI, for the first lime, in 'Which mental eventS can be math~ror· related with physical mmuli. By attaCking psychophysic$. Berpon was auaekmg experimenw psyml)ltlJ!Y as it emt.ed at the time. Bergson'lI rrWn. tltrgeCl are Gu&tav Fechner (1801-87) andJOJJ.ePb Delboeuf (1831-00), btu we will focus here on the fonner. In his E~ 6f~ ( 1860). F«hner had defined psychop~(hJtOOJihJIffJr.) as •the exuct llcienc:e of the ~ dependent rdatiom of bod)' and llQul Of, tOOr~ generally, of the material and the mentaL of the phyi;ical and WI; prych~ world6' {Fe&ner 1800: L 7}. Fechner ~ :.t his aim of ~ :l ~thematical account of the ClJI'relaliOftll between ph~..aI stimuli and mental eventi by a.ffinning. ~_ofm.emaI and ~ eve.tlU, rather \han attempting a redu<:tI'Ctn of lleIlllauons to phyW:aI evenlll, a6 bad been attempted by the Enlifillenment materialist'>. By ~ pi!}'f;ho~ k'llsatlona lQ physic.a.l e:venl!i. the early modf;rn mauri.alism had Jelt $ensatKmll all mere appearances or -epipbenomena, and hmce without my SUl.rm of their own. On dJis \'Ie'W a mathematical relatioMbip ~ n stimulm and senlllUi:on 'Illall neither polt1ible nor net:e~f. Fechner'i mvatigatiQlU in ptyl:1KJphysia were there fore intimately rel;tted to hill a.ff'innation of psy
Fecllner argued that while an mcrease in the intensity of a phy:dcal ~im#tw doe! not produce a one-urone incrt:a3e' in mental ~ the-re II iNtead a logarithmit; relatiooship bet\\
11

sl:i:mttlus of !OO uniu, and so on' (Fechner 1800: I, 112; cf, Berg:wn 1889: 60). Thf!: :mdacity of Fedm.er's proposa1lies in his enemlon of this law to ~ ~1atian be~ stimuli and lIematiom. The problem.. as Fechner ~ aI:ready completely :aware, is how me ~ series, the series of ptychical sensation. is to be measure~' ~al lIC<' ~ uruts of ~n? FedlMf suggested two method! fur identifying the mmuna of a change in selUation~ fint one mUllt fi;rId the ~ dtmltol4of a sema.uon , ~ then go on to \$Glare iu ~ thm1l.«4. A1.I absolute th~okl ideutifieo; the pobu at whKh 11 !1..Ull.ImIOOIl of ~timulibr~ throOtJh (0 ~ aware' n~_ By inc.rea:si.ng me rol\,l'l'fle of a sound smrting from zero, one can IQ~U' me point ;at which it be"wmes audibLe. But me ab601UU' th,rt$hold only gtVC!'S one value' of a semation _ the- iowC$t intemity of a stimulUi at which a 8eJl!lacion "ff'lt (fur eHJnple, the point at which pain ill fint felt on the inaertion of :I pm into the hand). To quantiQtlve~reiaw twO ~ ofimelllliIie$, one m~ be ~ 10 show a whole range of wrrebtiol\&. F«hner ~ that th~ GOuld be' done if one d&(J'oIered the difit:tentkd tbrel>hoId of xmation - the minimal unit. of cllange which could give me to a sensation (Fedmer 1860: )W2). One therefore mu,~t statt: with die identJlkation of the absolure threshold. and then gu hac. and identitV w minimum phrH<:al pressu£e ~d for 'a ~ce to be sensed, I[ t.hen becomt=a possible 10 use th.eK minima w. thle W3V to mti~te the series of 9C1ilIation. To quote ~n: For if we treat :;a a quantity the difference perceJved ITl (ol1lJC~ between the twO M::rl$atiotU which succeed ont' another in the coune of a continuous inae;ue of ttimulus, if we call the .first senWion S. ~ the xcond AS, we 5ha1I have to I;:OtlJider ~ry sensation ail a fum. obtained by the addition of the minimum diffett:n€. through which we pass be10re reaming "- (Bergson 1889: (5)

With the identifk-ation of minimal differences of sen»itufJn, :a. mailiematical rehuk1tuhip can apparently be Qt3blillhed between the series of sbmuli and the ~" of ~nsariOllS. ElH;h quantitati'W: change in Mitnultu pr~ a rorrelat.i've quantirativc change: in the' Krles of ~tion> Of COUl'lll:', it ls intuiti-vely ~ that the ~ of heat wiD 3l«'t: in e widi the increase in ~perature, but Ber:pm argues that there .are batiic pmbleilil with takklg a mathematical view of (1)15 correl.at.wn. !l.bhough we am always ~ when WI' :are ~g hotttr or colder. it would lI«ID that: the t:orre;pondeit~we ntaIIe be~ OW' l;e~ of warmth and the degr« of tempt':J.':mJ.re reA on .:onvention. MMeover,.a£e 'degreei' of~n reaIly of the _Dft kind af, ~ of phyIblllti.nluJ~,such u tetnpera.rure? I do not. pass t:hrough two ~ ewx:eMlve ~ft$- but r.:l.th~r through ~ of sensation l\'hkh flow into lmitllUlOther. '1'lte mi:st;ake which Fee~ made .•. WiiIi that he t:J.tttevro in an iJw:'rvall:letwt:'en two lU(:~ve senSlll.lions S 3nd S', ~1leD the~ is ~ply a ~from OM to the other and not a d~ m the

m:

12

arithmetiod sense of We word' (Bergson 1889: off), Thm sensations jUlIt do not Iee1ll to be meuur:able in the way that itimuJi an. However. 'the no-rel feature in Fechner's 'I.'l"eatment i. that he did Qot consider this difficultv ifts'u1I. moun~. T.aJUng aci'!:antage oftM fact thnaen.sation wries by sudde~jumps while the stirn:ulus i:m:reues continuously. he did not helritate to call thee dif. ferences of semarion by die same name: they are aU, he lIIlf8. ~ differeDce8, since each r:orrespondi to the smallest pm;eptible lntte3lle in the external lltimulus' (Bergson 1889: 64}. But why should the deteTmination of the dUterential th1:eshokJ ofaeensat:lon yield a minim.um difference which can go on to be a.ppI:ir:d homogeneously throughout the series of sensation? In 1874 jule& 1lwnery began r:o pul>Wb a series of obj«tions to Fechner's ~oph"*,,whkh already c.ontain certain a&pectll of BerPJn's critiqUt'< He wntes: The ewen.tiaI <:ba.rn.e:temtk of direaly men'urablc dimemlons is ~ wh~ IS added. such wa;( ~i:hing mcreasea, is of the ~ exact kind 3$ that which was aIn:ady there: length, sur&.ce lUl.d time are cliJneQliions of thi$ kind. If we add one length to another, bach of them are of the same kind and es&enct: and their ll'WllS are also of the same Lind. Directly measurable di.men$bons n«essariIy have this quality, because ntcasurement iuelf requiret that dimensions of the ume kind be comparable. (Thnnery l875: 1019)

8ul:, ~~t'> 'Thnnery. if one is holding a warm ol:!iec[ in one:'s hand and 111 heat inCJ"e3S6, then the original semation of heat i$ going to be of :it different land to the later sematlon of pam (Heidelberger 2004: :!OO). The fact that dle'mere inC1'~ in sti:mulus ~ ditTerent nervel inl7'<Jduces heterogeneity into the s.enes of !ensaUOIl5. HoJN)gencity in the :If.lnes Qf lIlimuJi lIhould therelbre not automatically be ~ected upon the series of sen«atkms. ~ cites Tannery's o~eclion$ (which abo include the ~ectiop that fleft.Sadoo differenrla.ls are IDefflly c:onw:ntinnal) but gt\'M on to develop critiomm of his own. He aH:s WI to ~ dre sensation of pain caused bv a ~prick (Bel'QllOn 1889: Md). On the h)pOthesis of p1ychoph)'SiaU ~ Ie1tsm. we should predkt that if we apply a slowly but continlJOUlly inCl1l'asing amount of fhf()('; on d:1c pm. then we will fed a pain that muellllle$ in paralleL But what happel1$ " dm.t ill certain points threahol& are read1ed. when the pain goes from being, (or inatrmce, merely natice2ble, «1 being nther irbome, to ~ ~ .and then excruciating. There are qualitative leapa in thefeeling of pam, thr~QId$ of tr'anlIfornwion. whc::re a change in nature C1lItlC$ about in the quality of the pain. Thm may indicate that the aeries of ~ baa its uwn thresholds, which .ve relatively autonOQlOWl of the &t.ilDuJHeriea. The ~ of lICmations of pain. for instance. may have mfernal, relative thresho~ which ca.n:tlf,K be deduced from phy3kllogical stbnu.llWon. Tht.' pain we are feeling :It anyone pain t aumot be simply analysed inro the addi'lion of homogeneotlll quantities of pain, an 5laCke
this could be explained (as Thnnery suggettll) through appeal to different nerve centres and functions in the 00dy. But 8eTpon Do lluggests - and this is his original contribution - that the quality of ilie !ICIlsaQon ill a1Bo crucially influenced by hftt kmg we're been endunnS the pam. He lIUggests. againat Tannen that time in fact should Mt be ~ a! a homogeneous rna,gnicude. but ~r that it should be conMdered to be ~t the root of the h~l~ty found in the series of $f!n..~ Time. or iWrt2timl., rnak.e$ a dUl~n~nce to ~n ltlbon. For instance. $(ImedmCll we do not even have to im:reate dae fOrce of th~ pin to make the pain unbearable, we canjust let the illme qWllUity go on for a while looge~ and the ~ of abrm is reached. Thill mdiates that the way the pain feels after live minutes will be coloured by the fut of my having ~ the pain for SO' long, whkh thus influences tbe moment of tmMformadon at wbich tM pain becomes unbelstable. Berg!!on goes on to make three imporwn inferences at this junmtre. which in fAct oontribute toWards a. definition of .duration'. First. each ~ n of pain implies the tragel:lllll of a preceding jJerie~. whicb mwt be endured in order to get to the p~t pain- We CiUlIlo( mis3 OUt any of. the smge$, A ~nwion in time of incmuing pain ill ~ in me: 3trict sense that it ill e:Jtpe:rlenced ali a who.1Ie, and must include an itIl p~ The pain is 'swollen by the whole of its past' (Bergson 1889: 15'), A boiling point cannot be reached at once; a certain speed cannot be reached lrlchout passing through all the other speeds, however qukldy. Stwnd, o'ery lltrics of changes is pUll(;mated at various points by ~ at 'Which a tran$COrmaUon OCCUJ'll. So we could iJldeed plot a. ~ of ch2ngCll during which there ~ only regular. quantitative changes chat can be p16U'led on a gnph. But ~ 'WOUld onlJ be differences of ~ wheR:u what Fechner has not accountm for are the possible differences in liM or 1Iatim1 between sensat:ioo&. While Water til coming to the boil tluil degrees of temperature can be measured quw:lLitii.tively from 0 «1100 degrees t:entigrade; but at 100 degrees. an '~-ent' happens: the water ~ m MIUn' and !lWU to turn into liteM1. Similarly, the n, on the adler hand. is D.ying that the forms of ~ and .pa<:e Ilhould be oompIetdy diitinguishoo. By

15 ascribing it spedal kind of 'heferogeneous continuity' to time, Bel"lP0n is nor just saying mal there ~ UO boundaries between ~h ttn~p¢~l ~mem (Kant wouM agree, and say that the ~ gon foe space :ll5 an inftniM, h~_ magnitude). His point 11 that the type of di.ffi:rentiation appropriate to inllofar as diey ~ muat he di$tinct .from the kind of differentialiOl'l .appropNtt' to things il1l/lO£v as thry ~ underswod purely $paually and timf'leuly. 8).' not ~mng the role' of duration in sensation, psyc.hophvlics ~ an abstract, spatialiled account of sensation. This, for Bergson, ill w n:al Cl1\1M!' of tnt' jna.d~ of p.n\:hophysicli. DeIeuze's emphasil on the pallIling of intellJi"1! mreshol& clarifie!> 8eJWlOll"to ~nce on the 'indivbibility' of duration and thtrrefore of human experi· ence. Bergson )(lffietimes t:a.lb in 11 Rornmti.-; WlIy abcIw iht: 'indivisibility' of duration (thu& pladng the ducaOOn3l-a«OWlt of human experience in an abs,~t Qp}>QSition with the lIcientific one, which 'murden to dissect').' In the way. DergltOfI' $ conclusIDn is that the n::t\.lm> of phwical quantity and sensate quality are en~ly ~ ; '!:he fucl t& that there is no point of contaCt benl'een the un~x~n"Ilitude', wh~re sensatiQns can IX'.' more or ~ intense, ill r~ by Bergson. If 'w~ distinguish IWO kinds of quantity. the ODe intensive, whicb admil!> only of a '"more o.rleM", the other extenNft'. wbicb ]en(b itself to me~t:'mel1t, we are not fu from siding with FC'clmer and the pIl'YCbophyllidm, rc,r, » won iii a thing is acknowledged to be <:apable of mcrel1lle and decrease. it seem! natumll'O au by how mUlh it deaeallCtl or br how mlU';h it nu:re31.iell " . , Either, then, !!iellW:lon is pure quality. or, if it ~ :il. magnitude, we ought to try to me/lSl,.Ire it' (72). 11.M:- notion of intentky iii a cOI1:fuRd concept, 'silWl.tod
\hi.

thouglu: on the threshold model of intemive difJmmu. To say that 'the expres00n. "difference of intensity" ill " tau«ology' (DR 222) is an exaggeration. tJe(;3,U!!e Deleute himself abo spelb out otMr, ide-d!, forms of <:U«eren~ - but nCYenhele6s be shO'l'>1i dw duration and intt!.miry at'e imimat.elv related and produce the ba&k form of di£fefel1ltia.l:inn thr any theol)' of s.en!iadon. 'NQ'lIr. although BerglOfi romeamell.llet!mJ to ,uggest {particularly at the SW1 (If C~ E~) that t:lII:1I. »lOiIIIo\mt, by 'Virllle of taking place in duration, 1nVQl\'es tomething lU'.!W ()C. in Delew;ian tfrllU, lhat any repetition invo~ a ~), Delew.e :leel! that It is not nece~ to (:ommit oneself to Ihit

pmition. There are stretches of eltpl:.oena: when nothing mw:h happens (in the C~ books he calls these 'anr-instaxulJ-whllJeVer', mst<mJs ~). The $tll:m!J point of Bergson's ~t about duration u that enduring a ;renf;won or experience can al J(jlR.I' puillt gh"t' rl.$t' to lit cbange in nature, and that thii property requU:es that we abandon any notion of time eul'eJIle

articulated in tellrnl of the accred()n of discrete. homogeneolB interval& {<".g. dock time).b Such mremoJds of I.f'9JUformBoon are fairly frt'.quent in expe:n.ence. and in the &sa, Bergson gives a number of desl.:ripoQruI of dm:sho1d& thal puncl:ll.al.l.': emotions {e.g. QpJ~ionsof desire and angu). However. th~ thr5lolds are ob'fim:DIy not tilOOUDtered at every moment (wbkb '!'<'OUId ~ ~)hen::nt, as it would ~Judf: the mdU1'rJ1Iaot' a particular state). In Oelew.· i.an terms, the repetition of a type of event does nor oJ:wo:p In'f{)l.e ~" Furthermore, if Ihis. Is the reason that d ~ g~erares the new. then dri& mod~ tht'standard, over>$\mplhul; itl~tlltion of Bergaon'$ in.simence tlw. duration Implies novelty, It i& not that the 1Wll i5 ceasdeuly prodlXed by the m.et'e fact of duration. 7 It it rather that the new i& produt:ed ~ dartltllm is lIw 't'elUdt:fur 'nten.m~ ~ Durtiion hall the property of ~ inl1!mi~ Ihn:3bol.dli. of In1n5fonnation, but each ilwance of such :il thr~oldseems w mec US back to the thing that is being lIefllled or experienced. The im.eMive pmpl:rties of experience refer back to prope:rtits of die thing. which ~ m~ in the 5eft!le dw they .are internal or irltrin&ic:, all opposed to exremal Of !/deCondary. For in!KllDce, me experience of ~g trapped in a yeUow room would thus ha'lo'e singularities particillar to it it might. be optic:a!ly ~timulating at first, but at a «rtain point I might glaTt to fuel naUM'OUlL In the Ci'1Umll boob ~ re~C1 a few time!! tel Goethe'$ theory of {;Glour, which state:! that when tlJe ~ of oolOllr! are lnt~ Ibey often produce a trat1$fortna6on= yeUow ~ ~ of ted around IL So there might be :ill $Om of uptiol effectl; produald by being $I:Ucl;. in a yellow rooM long enQugh. Tht'n" vrold till» be diiferenDal thrt:sholds proper to me exclusive re.:eptiDn of ~ colour yellow. Repeated stimulation by the wlour yellow would have its own ~t nf &ingularitie5. After haYing been locbd in a yeUow :room once in my life, the repnitWn at a later point of me expt:'ricnce might geneGW:: ~ty. and then, depending oli how many tim~ it ~ repea.tl':d. panic, AJthough ~ ~ltie6 would be generated within my body in the room. they are mO'f'e properly auributed to dle room itllelf. A Yellow Room 1herefm:~ ba:s. lou 0"'1\ intensive firld. dilierent in kind to the

me

16

The Patiwlogits of Tmu

lmenaiti¢s generawd by a. White Room. Dcleuze nplidtly takes the roncept of duration to gi:\'e a«:ess ro 'thing3 themsel.'\u' (see, for instance. D1 2.!J), and COD$dOl.J.llly plays on lhe mtLItipie meanings of me lI!iOTd 'intensity': rortaphY"" ical, duratioml.l and affective. We already lee Deleuze ~ .a. compromise ~ Berpon and

Fechner. Bergsonian ~ U. ~own ro conceal ~Iy me differential thremol.di :identified by Fechner, but now extracted from their abattact, homQge.ueous fhun~rk. Thus, although thresholdJI - wh.ether they be of pain or !Ioen1lOry qu.aDtit5 - are embodied in malXtrlal bodie$.. Ihcse thresholds au- only reached on condirloo that their transformation, are I!Rdtmd. H, :iU'o Kam.li3}'S in. the First Analogy. the pase.age of time em only be measured by UIl.lI!ling a penmment substance lU the backdrop to change'S in ~ Bergson mm.."6 hew I.be nature of ph~caJ aubltanccs can be modulated 1:, time all duration, It was Bergson '5 reali.zaticn that dur.won implies the pl'aer¥ation of the past whidl ftm:ed him to modify hilildentifu:ation of duration with ~ ~ If duration i& only possible on condition that t:he palIt ill preserved, rhen, Bergson rellJ:izc:s, be mwt radically modifv his theory that eonsciOUlness is me primary site ofduration. The past is preserved by memory, but at anyone time, the vast m~orir.y of memories mUlit relide outside oonsc::ioumess. But if du.ration i& the prolonptkm ofthe past inro the present. and yet memories are mOll! of the time not ~ then me durational nat:'Ul'e of me mind only indirectly concenll consclol.lllfte4 Memory. the lite of uncomcioll!!. mental representations. now bears the ~igbt of duration. From now on. the role of wnsciolMle!Jl! will be restricted. and will in fact not ~ directly conn.&ted with dw-ation at all, The function of consciowness is nthCT to fix itBclf to the jnJ:JJmt. that is, ro the ~ Here we begin to see the con~a:, albeit quite ace.. dental and via a completely independent route. with freud: oonsci:QUllfleSll now b«omes ill ~ phenomenon, concerned with the 'exigencies of life' •which ronspirea to ronc.eal. ~ deeper, UllI."OnsOOUS root! proper to the buman mind. Bergson plunges into 'the unblguities v.mch $Uffound the problem of the UllCOl1lCious', iUld he ~ arguing th4lt 'the idea of an tUl~ ~ is dear, despite ~t prctiudice' (Berpon 1896: 14!).

The Past When 'We are indoors, we assume that the world outside carries on ~g unperceived. We assume that there is an ~1iYe serles of event!! occurring in the external world, whicll hall nothing to do with us, However, Berp:Jn suggetltll thou it is not eklough to dose the CI.I.'t'tains and ,.,indOWll, liO detach on~lf from th~ eve~ ~ent to which one spend$ one', daylight houn trving to adapt, to succeed in escaping 'reality'- We do$e ounclves otl from ext:et'l1a1. o~tive reaHry only for another, inner curtain to open. Once the world of the senses is dimin.iJhed,. one tnrountert that «Jurr ~ world, the past. In Berpon's gothic philO6Opby of memory. the past .. at.least as real

17

the external wurld, 1llere is 110 mote re:uon tQ tay 'that the past e.f&t::es i1Jdf as 500n 31 perceived than there is to mpPMe th(ll: maleJial obJecu cease to ex.Ut when we (;ea8Ir. to peTCen.e them' (Bergson 18'9& 142). The unperceived external workl i8 ;;malogous tn !.he unperceived pasL More mongly, Bergson goes 110 far all to claim thai: it l:$ the past that truly is, Put en's, Nothing th.u was e'm' in the human mind can ~ leave it. Pan of the reatIOO why Berpon and Nlet:u;(;h~ are more impon.:mt £han Freud for ~ is that thf:' fOrmer twO IQ)' t.I:"Ile5t to this thought, to the pointofddirlum. BergJon's meoryofme past, and NterDc.he's meorv or me eternal rerum, hom e3rpre6& in their di&:r· 3lJ

ent (and, Deleuze conacnds, ultimately complemencary) wa~'$. the impfu:both the psychological and etJric:al level!., of this one thought: that if npenencell are lost to our present, the past is not lost to the mind. Deleuze's rotlttiburion iB lO identifY Bergson as the philosopher who provided the most pc-:r:ful alJUmf:DU to back up mal thnught; this ia why Mtater f1M Memm) is the central ~nt of Bergsonlan phibsophy for Ddcuze, Furthermore, if the 'gre:ate$t weight' that Niet.l:lKhe encounters in the dJought of the t:t.ernal return ia tbe thought dw. tJlJ the pa!t is preserved, then Deleu.re'$ ~ seetm to be to show how &erp:tn's argumentl about the p3Sl all<> help to incmIJe this 'weight' - to the point that liberation from the burden of me past through me affirmation of the et:ernlII return becomes a necessity. ~.! theory of memory is the mangeS(, most coun¥:el'-in~part of his philosophy, and for the casual reader of Ddeuze (perhaps inrrodu.ced to his work through A~). it cannOt but: be surpri!ring to find a contemporary philosopher defending it so energetically. .But lleJetl.Il:: c.a.rries on defending the meory well aftI:t: A~ and it fom1& ~ backbone of ~ 1(1985).1 The proposition that the pastil. rat all the ext.emal world is already enough to give us a jolt. Realitj· appean to !JPiIl out f1'Iff the confine. of the present moment; surely a Iil.Daq ;., aIbot? Yea. of course the praent is ~ BetgKm r~ U$ - but th3t doell not mean it hall a monopoly on JfC'JliIj, which might be something quite' different. h it. a priori true that only what ill aetttally bappening am be said to Im'e reality? 1:& the past then nothing but a: figment of the imagimttion? But, we ,,-ant to lnsit.t, th~ past is dead and 8UJ1C; there is notbillg we can db about it. Berp.m relIpOl:Ida: it DI2Y be dead, mOlU at

]8

19

but ir is not gonr-_ Withom the preset"V3tlon of the past, there would be no ~relligent action in the present. nor the ability to distinguish rnere imagina. tIOn from memo'l' The p3St is completely real, says Bergson: in (act, reality

~igbt be ~ with grcluer :.wurance to the past than to &he- pretelu. which 1lI forever ltl, flight, alw'ays ~lipsed by lUi imntincm negation. Why, then, we protest ~t ~ ethereal Frenchman, does not the past flood anto the present. mcapacnanng and choking it, if it is more real than the present? &rg~on is ~ppable: welL in fuct Ir d.oesfiOmet:imcs in certain pathological C3U$, and if It does not for most othen. that is beCO\use t~· are able w inkibittheir aware. ness of the past. The paM. Bergson cont::Judes, is unconscious_ The route of BergllOn and Janel intO the notion of the unconsciOIlS wa.s through the notion of memw-y. The more they had rcflen~d on the condi. tions fO: ~~, ~ more .Irey $lIW psychopatholoS' as resulting from failures U\ the inhiblOOn of memory. It was thi$ line of research which m:a({t" them impervious to Freud's se"ua1 ~&ion theory of the lmoonsciou:s when

it ~pearM.Alth.ou~ Freud is often held to have ~li( radlcilly changee$ from d,.namk rep~on ro the l1Dconsci0u5; ~ shape ofthe W1OOIlsciow is in£err~ from Ihe dfecu uf reprt'.IllIQn. f11l1 notion of ~e unconaci.oUll is thus 'rclati\-e' to the pnx-ess of repr~ and the cri. tenon of wha.t must be rept'~ from COraciQUSQe5S. [( Freud ~ discover what the au.rse of Ttpression is. then, it follow'S, he will know th~ i"Jature Qf ule unconlCious.. Bergson. on the other band, discovers his own theory of the uncorusciousbased on the notion ~ the 'pure past' or .~ memory' _ through philosophy. After ~on.mucung the implications of the pr~OI:l of the past in memorr· ~e ill th~n led to
dinu:

writing.;) to thaI of the \Ul(OI'lA(:I(tw. Bergson ulUm~tely :iwl~ [\0;(1 di£fer~rIl t:ouceptions of the unconscitlW. Ofl
past,

What Bergson calls 'pure memory' (~Jmil bas no ps-;.-chological exi&renee. This is why It is Gilled ~ iNl;tive. and UJl(OO$(Wll$. AU th~ wordll are daDgCfOl.l:5, in particular, the wurd 'unconscious' whkh, since Fteud, has become imepardhle from an etpecially clI'emYe and actM

20

/Nkw.e and ~

21

U~

psychololPw e~ce. We will haM: occll!ion to compare th~ Freudian with the ~Lan. silu:e ~n b:lmBelf 1'D.1Ide ~ Wlnpar!son. We mwt nevertheless ~ clear ar th~ point that Berp;m does not ~ the word 'Uf)(onscious' to denou: a psychological reality outside e.oDICiOUlr Ile$$, btu (0 denou: a n¢n-psycho~ol reality - being as it is in itself. Strictly ~, the ~ is the present. Only che pr~t is 'pSJlChologi. cal'; but the past i! pure ODh:Jlogy; pure memory has only ontoIogkalsigni{· lumre. (B 56) uncot'it(iQUS

The dai.m to ontological nacus appean to rest on two attributes of 'pure memories'. Fillst, Bergson ill arguing that ~ m~t9t male a di8.tinctlon bet~ 'pure memories' [~n~], that. is, m~ as they are in tbemaelres prior to their being brought to c:oruao~,and metnoriea as they are 'actualized' and ~ t to consdoumeu in the ~ of memory iUclf; tht:sre latter are 'memotJ"imagel' [i~~). Hence pure memories have an .~ an 'ifHudf' stat1JS, unlike 'memol)'-imagt:s'. which lit> we will see, are ~ to the- context in which they are acm:alized. But this is not sufficien~ to make them 'ontological' In any substantial !leMll! of the tErm. 1Cl Hence the soecond attribute of pure :memoria would seem to be the key one;- that. lit> paat. thete pure memories have :.l pem:umence which is granted to no other phenomena. Aa Dekuze ~, 'the only equi:¥aJent thesis is Plato'3 noO.QI'lof Remi.ni&cence. Remlnilcence aho afli.ntt.a a pure being of the past, .a being in itllclf of the. pau, an ontoi~cal Memory th.tt i!. capable of serving :all the foundation fur the unfolding of time. Yet apln. a PIatoni<: 1mpi.r.ttion maUs itself profoundly felt in.Berpon' (B 59). Deleuze'li actual explanation of how this 'ontological metnQry' is posiible will appeallO U1lnlKendent.al ground" rather than ontological cf;;dms in the saiet ll Rme. By the time of ~ N ~ Ddeuu li ~xpticitly describing Bel'glOn's theory of memory in tellllS of'mmscendental synthesis' ~ 'What do we mem in speaking of a pure, a f1'rio"pmt., the past in genellli or as such? If ~ mra ~ is a great boo.... it is perllap!: because Bewpon profoundly explol'ei;! the domain of this ~ndental 8}'uthesJs of a pure pw and dillCovered all its constituti'ile paradOJ«:3' (OR. 81), The danger of tiWng Deleu:!e at his word when he de5Cribes the past as 'ontological' is that if we taU tNll thought 1.0 hs conclusion we MIl end up with a weird spiritualist Plawnillm, with pure memories all omologially fundamf:ntal entities. But !here JeemI to be lKitJrething mOTe complica~ going on.. t::'O'en in Janet's Strllnge dream of a paleo~ which would allow one to 'trawl' into ~ past. u For BeTpon and Janet, th~ human being is 3D organism that I:tappe.ta to have ~ complex enough to open up a 'zoo of indetl:m:lination' (Berpm 18%: st} in itll brain. which permlt$ the maperWon of habitual relIGtion and the apptaI to put experience. 1':bts cerebl:1ll rone of indetenn1nation heoomes the 'pp' 01' 'in~rval' throlJlh wbkb duration enten, pr0ceeding to take charge of the~, turning it inside aut. T:u:ne llurges into ~ brain. changing everythmg. so that now it is tlu: brain which ~ j

shaped around an ~-iiC.OJD'tularing ontotogi<:al memmy. nII.hB' cb:m vice versa. Wherever interiorized duration arises. rime pushes through and invem the :f:abrk of £he l.IIliverse, so that matrer mullt now be talum as che ~pe- at temporal becoming, r:a.ther than dmf: being dependent on ma.tter. In ~ .llft4 ~ Delruze :make.e the Kantian point that 'It llUCceuion of inst.anlll does nat cODllliture I:i.u:If: my more than it ~ it to disappear; it indi0.rt:5 only iu constantly aboned moment of binh. Tune- is ~r.ed only in the orIgina.ry synthesis which operates on the repetition ofinsranu' (DR 70). At Ute moment that the ~ 't1I1.iverae invert! itleJl :md int.eri.orizea itself vittually, it (starting with lbe bl':ilin) beoomes maped armmd time, :rather than vice ~. there is an ascent, through the involution of W1ualit¥- to iW entird>' new order of validity, bcycmd the order of actual &cL 'Ihe emergence of memory tlI:rou.gh the wne of indetermination opent up a ~or mteriori2ed d ~ whkh peoceeds I'D evolve in tension with the more ~neralizing tendencies of inwllige.oce. Accmding to Deleuze, the i$$ue here is not ultirn:ittcly whether memories can or cannot be localized in the brain. Even if Ihey could be I.ocaJ.iwj in MUt'Ofial connections, char. would aWlle~ aside the fact that 'lrir.b the i ~ of difference (the partiCU'tar memories), a new relationship ~ which mwi be articulated in tcJ1Dll of vinualiJ:y and actuality, Memariell are preserved in 1M ""'fill, and muM therefore ilIlDlehow coulat with the attenbon to present reality that a~ my COIUclOUlIllesli. 1"Iti!i reJatiomhip requires a. diflen:nt fuunework fur ~ than does the evolubonary process in ~ . In w twentieth (mtury, man)' phUotophm in !he post·Kantlan trad.idon, Sartre pemaps being the gm.u M:ampJe, insiBted on treating the mind M a 'for iudi' beca.\J$e of the ~ qf ~ beyond the- ~ of the pb),ical. Following Kant, amsclOlU.Rea mwt be taken as: irnplicitk' Jlelf.. wnKiow.. In "J"h,s ~ of SFit Hegel says that OOmciowlnellill is

implldtly self
4.

that distinguWJ.eS }wman romooWlnes.s is 1a besought, quite llpeoncall:y, in memory, not in con~i\l\W1es!lin geneTat 'Th¢iQaI of memory h to triumph 0\'eT ab,ence and it is strugglf' .ag-.rimt absence which cha:racrerises nr.mory' (Janet 1928: 221), The appe.u (~ memory at drill point i5 more c.umpJe-x I.han dIe appeaJ to comdousneu, all memory itself is It compl~lt function, having Doth oonscwU!$ eM unconsciom as~Cl.$. Bergson, Janet and Dele~ are performing a delicate balancing act ntre.l...ik-t Freud, the\' think. it i.Il wrong to dillringuish human b¢inp from animalll on thte basi$ of the consdoume. of the fonner. ConsdOl.lMeJ$ itself is not. ~ilat ditltinguisb~ us from animaa; the post-Kandan psycbological tradition (led by Wundt) had ~ady mca!eded in tlhiUling down COIl!lCiOUllneS$ to attenoorL But (or D('!'le~ and hi! 0lIf'll I:radition. Freud in turn ill wrong to il'mll'oe th21 a theory of mind un.W therefore tQmmit itself to 'the task of tracing aU the ~tiesof our ~tiom back 10 ~ ~ ' (SE 1: ~t R:nher, the notion of the unoonseiou.!' should be explained in another v.ay. '111eidea of an u~iow~ )1$ dear, despite eurrem pre-judice' (Bergson 1896: 142). Wh.uhas been ruislt.ed by both Freud and the pO,t-Kantian tradition is how it it w ~tUp ~ 'ffUmWry and CDtlSdm.tJ attirr..tU.m which s.e parat.es human bei.J:tg1l &om the: Te.1iI! of the animal W togi<:'.aJ entity, His most powerful point is thal thf< relatianllhip of WtuaJity :.and acmality must Mvt" iu own. autonomous fOnn. and amOOl be reduced to material: catlSality. In this sense, his theory is \:-ompati1:>k- with lane~'t> e'I01u-

ttl'"

rionan' .a:c.eOUDl.. and evc::n with r.endenciei in Nieu:u;be's. work. [n a note from 1886-.7, Nietzsclle m.akes the remark that memory must be a -late' phenomenon, 'imofiIr as here the drM to mm equal RenU already to have been Nbdue<J; difterentiation i$ p~' (Niewehe 1967; # 501), The point is the same as 8etgKtn'$:: (he d~ntiation of.m.emories it; necessarily in tension with ocher ~ ~ bkltogial tendencies in the human organism, Even if the dllrerentbJion of memorW ~an be counk'd on iu own tel'IIlll as an ad.a~ function, an eqU2ll.y bnporCUlt question concerns the compensations and adjustments that would :D'ille At a con6equence within the mind, I~ The B.elgsGnian-Delewian hypoth~$ is that a new thre,hotd is fea(:h.ed with the interioriza.tion of memory, and that the mind undug()C$ a change in n~. Once the e'*Olutionary path ~ the pre$¢rvation of dilf~rentiated mem<:Jri.e, is taken. a. new, fundamentalllelf-reWic>nship is permitted to arise within the mind. This self-relationship is not in ~ one of inhibition or reprelSion (as on the Freudian model), bllt is primmlyone of ~ The need fOT repression mayari$e {IS a ~of w pn!lW)' tum toward$ the actuali.zation of the virtual in 'pJfd1k re~LiI:kln', Jt is the ·in~< of memory that ~omell possible in compln organmns that lets them apart from other .anitnJlI!. "The more complt!x a S}'S'em. the more the ~ ~ to impUcfJlifm appear within it' (DR 255). M~mQry, [w Delem.e, is an eumple - perhaps the privileged example - of how the pliysiod and ~ogItal~ .~m constitution ofli,,'lng bemlP can beCOflle radi<;a)ly
I 24 in man, and only in man, me actual bewmes adeqwe ro the virtual. It could be lI8id that man is c:apabk of rediscovering aU the levels. all the degrees of expansion r~) and contral:1ion that coemt in the virtual Whole. As if he weR capable of all the ~ 3nd brought about in himtelf ItlC~S5i'vety ellf.!I'ydriug that, elsewhere, can only be embodied in di&rent species , .. man h apable of scrambling the phmes, of going beyond his own plane as his own coodition, in order tinally to expreM naturing Nawre, (B 1(6)

It is completely to miss the point to be pul off by the word 'man' or 'human' here; none of mil> u 'anthropomorphit'. 'Humanity' JUS(. hllppoe:m to be the ;q>ecies in QIIU' world that has internalized time through the development of memory, Other species could do the WIle under certain conditions, and probably have done and will do the same, in d.i&J'ent region., of the universe. It ill futile to think that tOIDJ*!x life forn:J.s on other "'Orids will live subitantWly different (better?) 'UvcJ than our own. The problems they encounter will be more 01' k$a. the same, because the synthe!lis of time is a fundamental, universal invariMu, with a finite &elt of raodet. This is not to say th;u: modifi.catiolUi in the theory of ~poraI synth_1Yil1 not aJ:ways be poaible - Dele'll2le ]a pre,. occupied with Just 8UCb ~0Il$ - but what make$ Rant'" Copemlam rerolution S() monumental ~ his uncovering of a lew!'l of funda.mental, ttansetmdentll. anal)'sis ",-him bokh for finitE ~ Any being which both has senses and thinb "''ill have (:0 wgan.ln: their data ilirough nonrr.aIiYe articula. tions 'fNbich function ftw that being mrourh the synthesis of time. \l\'berever there is inteligent life, it will be organized in temporalllfl'tbes6 Perhaps ~ than any other recent pbiloliopher. Deleuz.e has insisted 011 demonslnuing the C\dl extent to which thl:! Copernican ret'Olution has mrned tM: uni\1erSe imide out. It ill not just Wat time 'lx«~ grO\mded In su~ea: 'Time is nat the intAmor in WI, hut JUSt opposite, the interioritY in which we ~, in which we :rmwe. live and change. Serpan ill much d03er [0 Kant than he himself think.~: Kant dclined time as the form of inrc.rklrity, in the ~nse that we are intenuu to lime' (C2 82) . .Berg5on QpeDi up memorv's Pandora's box. the eontmt.s flying ow to 0CCUJlf the en'li.re mind, vanishing Into depths of mental life which were hitherto unknown. By virtue of opening up the domain of m~ry SO that if f1(JW threab:D5 to dwarf the present, Bergson in tum ratcheQ up the ethico-tetnporal problem, making KieIt.egaam'. and Nietl8Che's ~ all the more tmdrcl.l.lllYel1mb1e. How can tJIl t!J« be n-willed? It hali al.reaitr been noted that the ida 1hat the past is JH'ClI'em:rl l.n Its entirel.)' had become $01nething of an occult o~on in fi~~ Europe. The tact that the !aI:De klea appears in NietDche, Freud and Berp:m at moTe or less the !lame time ~l$ that an unconscious, oo.ti«:live current was at work during this period, being pkked LIp on by thin.lr.er; from nuny intellectual traditions. .. ill not i:mmediatdy de:ll1" what hilItorieal or sociological methodology would be adeq'Wlte for tUticuIa.t:ing uncotW:ious current. Moreover. a theon:tkaJ ovetdetermination n~ remits from

mi.,

me

me

mu

melle

multiple recepUoDi of the j3iDe idea.. Freud beg.m by making the d.isti.ncrion bet'wetn memory and perception in pt.m:J.y neurologial r.enm. only going on to remove this IDllt'erlal bMi$ afru TIu l~ t7j1Jrlrrms. For NietzllChe the thought of the pr~n of the past W'll.f both a mystical md :an ethical fhought. Th~ thought of the etf'rna.I return firlIt appc-ared as a m~ lntu-trion of the preservation and return of trn: put an iIdinllC number of ril:nea, but NietzEhe immediately emacted the ethical signilicancc of this lho.t: the thoopt that the past. is pretefVl::'d and will rem.rn b.ecomes 'the gre:uest weight', whicb demands that _ ~OOTcapacitielllhJ' ~ Can the past be ~Ded? Deleuze su.ggesu dt~ the syntheds of time internally points lOW'.U'dIt the problem dw he calJs 'repeddon\ which he repcesenta all a kind of ot'dea.l, an experience of terror and freedom (DR 19). Ddeuze (Opes with the diarp made aptwt Bergson'$ theOJ:'ies of time by the existe1\Uallsu br oonwnding thilt if 8etpon's theaty of time does not ~ a completely theorized aaowu of the role of death, then it nevertheless prmides an important. new bam fur a re-d\inking ofhwnan finitude. The finitude implied in human temporality ~ obscure without a full accmmt of how humm memory pre8el"ml the past. and DeJ.euze mOWll that Bcrpon'. theory of memory might even provide the dearest basi. to UI'ldentand the NO stakes implied itl the exilt£ndal.ist theme of repetition. For KieBqaard and Hefdtgger. repetitian ill the act that allows a human being to embrax:e the fact that lib ~tiQrul are DOt determined, wbether br an ellIlimtiaJ llaturC or by the pasr:.. We finally <x>mront the emptine.s of the future and our respoDiihiliry for OW'" actions only by affum.ing our past as radially rontingent. WhateVer happened to me in the past, I accept it as my respoosibiliry, I can do otherwille now, and therefore I CQuld ha.\~ done ~ then. 1 now sanctify the realiz.\tion of the concingenq of my past by an affinnalion of its conimgencr- In Nietzltdte's tenns, re'pC'tition is a 'willing~' (NietDche IBM, 'Of Redemptioo') , rhat finally frees one to will forwards. JI DeI¢uze is right, then as the process of inr.eriorization contir:l'oes in the evolution of~, rhe ~ure of lime might writ inreDiify rorrespoodingly, It is no wonder. then. that many today want 10 abandon ship, to affirm crude furms of mateJ:'ialism or Oarwiniml, and simply tul'n their baeb on the d.emand$ of temporality, Btu 311 the parable ea:rs. what it, some day or night. a demon weJT. to "teal af'tI!r them into their loneliesllonelineJ6 and llay to &bem; 'Thil Uk all )'OU now live it _ h~ lived it" you will hawe tQ live onu more and inllUlDt!r.\b1e limn. more .• : (NJeuxhe 188i: '*' 541), So tha-e ia no real akernativ<-..: we mUlL am.strl.ld the paleoscope.

1b.e Actual and the VIrtUal In DeIeuR. the distinction between the actual and the vir1:ua1 tends 10 taU over from the diKinction ~ cQllSdousn_ and the unOO1l8doos. Thu distinction goes beck to l..eibni7.'s ,'W:rD ~ 1m the Hu'l'll4'n ~ his critique of ~ empirldsm. Its fint target i$ Locke's ide2. that !he mind is

Tlu Patlw. fJFTiml

26

me

~ !USa. Leibnb; ~PQI to defend doctrine of innae ideas appearing l¢ a dl.£ferent ~ the mind is Ilk<- a 'O'cined block of marble.

hom as Ii

Vcim lmd shapes are preterit Of} the surface, .. well as within the depilis ofme ll'Iarnle. but theae can only be discovered being chiJ,el1ed 3t~ ('~prn.ed to the tight. Depending on where one begin$ cltiaetling atid hotH one proceeds, d,fff'1'~m "elm 'Will come w me ~, while others may reman! entirely latem. Tln.D the shape of Her~ an ~ be said to be i,nna.re in a block of marbJe on "'nndicion that then' an: vinualvcln8 whkh oudirle hiB ~ but even if his shape i$ virtually ~nt. that does not medn that it is like a ~ ti4/iJ;) in the Ari$totdi:m seme, which rather driva the process of 2.l:~tion {the ~ed being the ~ltIUtlple hel"ie}, It ill innate, but it bu no po'lI.'Cr over whether it gets ~lW.:-d or not. Thua Leibniz sa~ 'TIl" a how ideas and truths are innate in \LY - as i.nclinJUiOl1ll, dispositio~, hamru~ Qr n~ vir· tuatitia ~}. and not as ~, ahhough these ~(!$ are ~ aaCJltlpanied by certain ai;t\A.lJt.iet, l.lib:n inu:n~bk ones, which ~nd illthem' (Leibniz 1765; tranl!. modified}, There is a dear analOJY be~n 8trg'S<.'lnian pure memories and Leibnirian In:lIJ'ble veins, mthat !lJlIeither can properly be dexribed ;u 'potentia/itH:5'. Another term, vlrtualitv. must be used of both. We will return to Leibniz at the end of the cb~er, »fur the moment our goal 1$ to establisb the vil1uaJjty £If memories, rather than 'innate ~:i$' In tnetmeJvet. pl.m~ recoJlectiom are sterile, we~, inacti'lle. 111t' time .may come when they are reca1k:d for.a p;uticular ~ but in the meantiDH:, they have at! opposit~ status to die present ol:!jecl'l of the mgooug. All memory i8 Iil withdrawal to $Orne extent: 'to calf up the past in ~ form of an image, we mmt be able to withdraw ounelva frotfi the action of ~ moment, we mU$t~ the power to v:ahle the l.IlIlelai, we wtW haw: the'll.ill tJ:Jdmun' (Bergson 1896; $2,,3). In fuct. memory and dn:mn1ng are not: $0 far from ~ Other: dream is the pole of memory which is MtJ$( ~ to the ito~jadapri~ demandJ of the pre:ient We mould not regard ~ tomplell:':' memoriclo lC\ ones that. alii! l~ complex.. but ali 'J1 ~olIection ~ ~ mote impersonal, nearer rn a.cnon. and therefore, mort: ca~ble of molding iuetf- like,a teady.!ltilde ,gamu"lJ(- upon the nfM c~ of the presem situation' (241). If a. memQry is particularly inten~. fM dna not mean chat it bas been more indelibly imprinted ill che brain, but that ~ is able to delaCh oneself mmcK1JUy from the detl'landJ> of !he pr~t I.C be able- to d ~ rermre the UM:ffiOry in a cognitive ~ I:h.at approach£
or

r

27

The drearol'ij;;e character of memory. which i$ mOM. marked in children. leads Bergson tA) conc~ive of memory in termll of ~ (l62, !4l}. If recollections subsist in the mind unron5C'IDmly, men due to thelrrinuality we al"ie forced to think of them as awaiting the chance to be revived, or reincarnared in the pretoent. Each sUuation i& like • ~aft of light which break$ through the eeili.ng of the ~()rl.d of ~mory, Illuminating ()I't~ or two of ItS denizem, 'SporJ~'memorlea are COl'lPntWly evoked ~ rf:lle1UblWl~ and c;ontiguities wid! present peKepUon&, and which m~mo~ are itIrre~ m tll41 W'.1V depenm on the degree to which the recollC'A::tor 1!l active or drf'..an:tn~, The more 'relaxed' (~u) the conseiQwneJlS i$. the deeper and more i.nd:J:.. \o~duaJ the memori~ whkh rise to the Bl.l.l'bce. The p;t'It emerge:; '''''ith the 3SStitanc:e' of the present, jUllt all' Horner" $ ghosu. l>OUflht om new li~g blood

for their teincarrwion. The sensorl-mot(',r appar.llU$ fumillhes w meffect:iw:, ~ • uncoRlici~. m~mories. the mt,am of raking on 1:1 body. or mau~n3Jmng memsel'fes" In short of becoming pr.r:sent. For, that a t'ecO!lecOOD should appear m con, l!dou..'Uleili, it ~ M~ ilia( it should ~ from the hdght$ of puce memory down to the pr~tse point where ~ is taking plat:e. In Olber words, it is from the preaent thllt the appeal to which mml>OfY re~onds (.:otnQ, and it 1$ fu:m1 the iensoti-motor clemenu of ptaent action that a mt'mory bor'r<1m the warmth which gl.'lIeS h lif~. (15S) MeJnOf"'V, as UIl:derwodd, il!. thus home to thowan~ of bloodlel!ll. in~ ~pirit.s. which loot'. up whenever a my 0( light pierces thl'OUgh a crack 1tI ~e preaent. Hence cemdownesi must set aNde alI those pan unagei which

cannot be coordlnaU:d wiili tbe present perception and are unable to form with it a ~ combination, 'A.l.ra<»1. the whole of our ~ is hidden &~ U5 because if: 16 inhibited by the nectmlQes of present aetJOlf (154), Jf the ~~ cbological tension' involved in keeping one's attention focused on the presem 1& Itft to slacken. ~n the remelubered past couJd end up ~g out the pre,ent.1ll There 13 thus a primarY ~ or as Qe!ew:e ~ it, a rep1'e$$!on (~tl (8 ';2), which e~ that only wlw can th:OW,~t on the pr~t situation is a(cepwd from the Pfe3e~d~ The:e 'It a ve~ over ~ p3llllt: 'FOrtunare are 110'(' to have this obstacle. ~nftnite1y prW-Ol.t$ to ':-a IS the 'ft."it: The brain ill what sec.url!S to Ull this advantage. It ~ our attentron bed on fife; and lik I.ooks forw:arrl; it loob bad cmly in the degree to which the pall: am aid It to illumine and prt!:pare lbe futl1r~J (.a.etpon 191~ 57). These virtualities are n:aI " in some ways ~n more real th:an ~ ~ present btu Me ~ve, inactive. they u{} longer act.. The cerebml mechaniam ~ lUTlU'lgedjust so as to drive had; mt() ~ unCONciOUi a!moet. the whole of ch.Is pll.lK, and w admit ~ the thre&hold ooly tb3t which em cast Dahl on W pl"l!$ent lIlwation or funber the action l10W being prepared - in shon. <mly mal which (-.art gWe ustjulwr>rk' (tkrpml90'1;S}.

The P!JtMlJ)gi.n ()f TilW

28

C/imt.t£1JS wa.~ the lim of Ki~d's great flow of eats in 100 (Kierkeg.aard 1843a: x), In the text. Kimqaard anempu to identify 'repetlUoo' as the basi' an.egory foe' dealing with the ttl:atlon be~en ideality 3Jld r¢3li1Y:

Paramnesia and the Thansrendental Synthesis of Memory Butd~dleuze'~recom~OOnofa 8erponian thewy of mind i3more oornp16, It oeI not rest ul"t1.rlWe~· on the foregoil'l3l1iXOUDt of the psy<:hic inhibj. non of the ..t",...... . closer . past. Ilekw.e attempt& to bring ~ ~e.~' u~ry Into

an

I;~ntaet ~th the Kantian and l)llIU"Kantian transcendental cont:eplion of mmrl. ~l.eh foregrounds an epiilemll: approach to the fundamental Sj'QtJwu of the !1und.

19

I

I ; ;

,

l, L

In reality a5 web. there is no reperlrion.. 'I"his mnot 1:leaWse ~Urin~ i& ~ rerent, not al all. if ~ in the world ~ eompletely ldenlDl,112 reality there would be no repetition, because Iea!it¥ ill only in the mometl'l. If the world, i1utead ofbemg 'beauly, were nothing but equally large unvar~ bouldeJ'$, there would still be no repetition. TbroUgbout eternity, in every moment, 1 would tee :l boulder. but ~ would be rtG quettioll :as to whelher it ';\Q$ the same ont: I had geefi before. (Kierkegaard 1843a: 111)

Repetilion ~ neither in reality nor ideality, ~ in tbenuetves. 1'hcn: ill Date d no repetition in reality not beO.uae reality ill aJreadY dit.l'eren. • (ao:Ofdmg

of sufficient teaIOO). but ~ It ~r III needed for take place. ~r, on the other band,
to the principle

repetition

to

""nen ideality and realiry touch each other, ~ repetition occun. ",'hen, for elCllmple, I llee something in me moment. ideality en~1'5 in and will

explain t.hal: it is a repetition. Here u. the contmli(.1ion. lor that ,mien is, Is abo in another mode. Tb3.t thC' enemal is, chat I lee. but in the same Instant I brl:ng itinto relarion with lOIl'lemlng tha1 :aliso U, lIOm.ething that is the I!oiUItC and that abo will explain that the odlo i:s the wne. Here U a redoubling', here it is a ~ of repetition. Ideality and reality therefore collide Ul whaL medium? In time? lbat is indeed an ~ty, r.n eternity? That is indeed an Ullpo8$i.bUity. In what then? In c~as - there is the c0ntradiction. (Ibid,)

mil .collision' take p13oe? It cannot take place in time, bc:caus.e the repetition is the ..ery condition of polISl"b11ity of appreh~~ time. But.it c:antiot a1Io take pbt:e in eu:mh:y, as there would be no ~ m ~rnit'r. l3\ effect, ~ wouid be back with the boulders floaling in sp8U. except the boulden would now tOOaot :M monads in an eternal ()I'der. The concept of 't'epeUlfon' thUll ~ a paradoxical ~ an on~\ink or fold, . lnvaginared (as we saw eaiier) in the hUttWl brnin. But if the concept of ~ ~ going tel be the tundmnenW smtbeslS of time, 1heI1 ~ M!Jctm to be a prublem. as the presence of III repetition impl~ that an ori.giMl ftID~t is being repeated. But if repetition l:t;. sup~ to be the ba8.ic svnrhe'a:b of time. then it conl:nldictory fi) po&it :L tint moment 'in time' ~ me !lVDthesis iuelL We !lecm to 'W bad; with the probk:m 1mpicit in Kant's 'S}'1lth~ of apprehension'; it is boW. necellll3!Y and impQ~ib1e to

Where can

'*

30 con~ive of a tint manifold or multiplicity 'in. itself'. This problem can be 1lO1ved if we p<1l!it that the fulSt moment is ~ a ~ The norion of

repetition would only become coos.l$(ent if the $CX:ond moment could be a repenriQu of the tint. while ,imu~1y the first I'OOment il:!lelfwouJd be I':oncei~ ~ a ful:Ure repetition, due to its preservation, 11lere IDlJ.$t be a 6nl moment, a iyDthesis of pre;ervation, where events are preserved independ' ernly of their ~ n:prodUttion. 8f giving priority to the notion of repetition, it ~ as if D ~ is charging Kanl with h3ving omin-ed a more originary moment:from this accoum {)f the 'Yllthe.si!! of 'reproduction', for if a reproduction is to be po&5ibJt, then t:h&t requires thal, the ti.m' rnotnent mCL'S!. haW' bc:en ~ Before the $]lldresi!! Qf reproduction, rhere lll'U)l be .. svm.he.sis of ~n3tiot.t. HQW can a teproduction rwill thm Yanooed past moment unJe$$ me moment was ~y prepared fur pJt:Serwtion at the point of ilJ ~hitlg: In order JOr a pIBl moment to be reproduced. it must ha'\'e been rocordeO fOT reproduction 31 me moment of to pa,sing, For Ddeuze. Bergson is the Qne conlemporary thinker who has tahn up thill thou~tU'r lind submitt«l t() m cOlJllrequenCA'$: that 'an (:owciousne.5, tbc:n, is memory - ~ and accumulation of the palIf in me present' (8erp>D 1919: 5). In many ofhu early wor'kJ (and beyM:d), Deleme ill to be found wrestling wi.dl a very deep problem, a properly philosophical problem: how doel!i the present piIIi-I into the p3$t? How 15 t:he pa61 wnstituri!!d 4$ past? Delcu:r.e pnxeed1 to find th~ problem in NieUllChe. ProWlt and Freud, l3mOng othen;. But as we have seen, Derpon ~ the phOOsopher who 8CJC1l, into the qtrelldon of the ~n of the plMt and pr~ in most detail. It is not enough, he chatge:l, to say Ihar. the past ill con&kuted as such aftIlr a new prl!:Sl.'nt has taken its place. as then thf' $Cope of that p:;ut would be re:luic(~d to what it sipilled for the: following present:

rn

:\a;oroing to the point oCviewin \ldtich L:un placed. Qr the centre inle1:eSt which I ("boose. I dividI: ~~rday differently. dilK:overing 5e'\'erai 'rery diffierent llene5 of situations or stati!:$ in it. ... Scores of ~ of ~g are polll!.ible, no spten1 correspond! with joinl.'J of reality- What right nave we. then. to suppose that memory cht'lOla one particular system, or that it ~ ~icalli.fe into definite perl~ and awaim the end of each period in order '(0 ro.I~ up it'$ ilCC(>Unts "¥rim perception? (~rgson 19(18; 129)

Now, be<::allk the <:OIttent of each pm5CIlt cannot .imply be dellmlled as soon the moment hall P~, and beaw.se it :InUit remain open fIX £Utur-e reinterpretation whlle nOI ce-iiI.1Iing (0 be identified as tMt pa$t, _ are forced to
paratioxical rewlution. according to Deleuze. is thai '00 ~nt ~ t:'l'tr it fiQt past Mat ~ lIaIDe ume" » it u. present .. _'1"be past is con~m poran«,iUS with. the pretent that it 'C»fl$' (DIlSi}. Or as l\erp;!n b.imleH puts it:

p~ 'WeI:'e

r hold that the I~ q/mDliMliJm is 'l<M'r~tq

iJu ~ qf~

tUm; II as ~~ lltim u: For wppolle recolleclion iJ not created at the llaine moment as pel'ception: At what moment will it begin to exist? , , , The more we rcllect. the more impossible it l& to ilna.gine ;my way in which tbi!' rew11ection can Mise af tt i5 not creatro step by ltep with the perc~on 1t'Je1f (Berpon 1908~ 128; cited inB 12.';) In otherwomll. ~ acwal present is rome how dOUbled by a vUmal 'shadow' of i~, which enables It to be re-Qcwal.i.red as the past It will ha!ve betln, f.ach 3CtuaJ image, he sa}'!!. must be taken to have U3 OU'1l virtwll afterimage. which enableli it ro be re-itCtualil:ed as the pa:
au

«(;2

Dc!'lewe presenn this argument a number of timN, and a detailed anal~ {}f hili varioua presenatarlons would be de&ir:t.ble, but (:atmot bt! made here. n The .metaphor of the photograph ill helpfuL th('IUgb, It is a5 if a phorograpb is 'l:2ken by memory. :l luminous imprint of real1ty, WhOfe oontent can only be ~ d and

interpreted later. EvetUll can happen which will h
fm-U& at~ point in the Wt:lJ:re, but Me ar~ tlftl:~of this significance- in and direcdy afur prel!ent. Nevertfl.elc§, the event ha.s happened. and that it 1ulppmMl will haunt US '!'then we realize later what it meant. Somet:ime$ a magnifyin, gJas.i will be 1ll!!eesaaJ."Y in Qrder to dilw::ern the ligns of future fate in die phot:.ogr;lph. BlJt, liIfrer l:he ~t, we :ar~ condemJmt to ~ these pb~5 for t.n\Ces of an uncomcioos fine of fau:, MUch has. only become c~ later, when it • too fate. In hts first article on Berpon, Deleuu lll:Utes expUdt the role of the ~ in the constitution oftbe past: 'If the past had to wai" to bt! no more, it it ~e nor immediately and bencefunh pa!It. "'1Jtssi In gencra.r. it would fW!!'Vef ~ ,a'bte to ~ome what it is., it would ~ be ,tw pa;IL Th~ Pll;,\l is there'fure the in-iuel( the tb'iconfll::ioU$, or more prcclJely, as IkrgllOn flaYS> the 'l1frtuaf (Dl 29). gel'gson'& modd ~ma to be a kind of geneI7!lilll'Jd model ofN~1rIft or •deUrred action'. rooted ill the comtitucion of t.i.me itJelt', Freud tllIDed to the mode) of trauma in order to undemand why it Wti ~ representati.onll in particular which were r~ into me unrnn...4cious. 'If fll} ~ experience oc:curs during the period of ~ immaturity and the memory of it is

me

arolllled during or lifter maturity, then the memory will h:l\'e 3 b.r stronger e.xcit.:lwry etieet than W ~enee did at the time it h~ed; and thi$ i5 ~ in the- me:mt:irD.e puberty has lmmefl$ety it}~d the capacity of the sexualapparatDldor reaction' (SE~: Hi7). 111:..., infantile 1lex:wU ttamna had a 'deferred etfect\ beQus.e at W t:ime of the t:nlUJ:na. teXUa.tity W3i In an W'ldeveJcped form, lIO the ~ significance of the event was not und.e.,(t!Od; but ()l1ce puberq had been patQed. th~ m~eet belatedly 11".aIiz.es the .dicance of me memory. and now beeo.roe; bellieged by a meIDOry it ill powerleu to alm:aCL freud 'W33 rotced to abwtdon this model fur a white OllCC.e he bad begun w affinD the existence of in&ntite kXI.IaHty, which undel"l'Dined it:; nevertheles., it retl.It'm in the caM of the ~ Man, wiIh me Ckdipl..l$ oompla as the mediating conduct« u.t ll.1l0W5 the deferred ~t to ~ a more powerful alfet:t. What b tuiking about Bergscm'$ genera.liled model of deferred action is that the requirement for a. spedfk mediaUng conductor appears to ~i!lh, 8ecawe Berpoo has no au to g.rbul for aay specific aet» logical agent in ~o1ogy(1l'l:lCh as ~ y in Freud), in effect he 00et nOt ne~d an account of hQW specific e\.-enu U'IlJme a belated tolticlty, The comparison ~ith NQt;~ Ii thw u1~ m1s1eadmg. For ~n, psychoparholosY annot be ex:~d on the basil of the deferred a.et::i(IQ of particular eiilrly events. Although hilil colleague Janet will ~ the role of actUal traumatic events., (in line with th~ eariv Freud. of the 'seduction theory'. bUt withOUt his restriction tn~ trauma), the ~ oft.rauro.a iI. rooted in the ensuing diidoadon in the temporal. stl.'UCtUre of th~ mind.I~,even if there is no actual trauma, lhere is. a pathological oriencuion built into the .~tu:re of temporality. Rerpon inttDd~ a theory of ~'IWW which J)ele~ take, up all the' fuundaIion [or II lbeory of th¢ a.utonomOlJll p4Pws of the mind: 'a p.1lhology of repelilion' (DR 290). The pure layer of the past must iu.elf be immediately 'furgotttm' all the needs of the present are entirely p~l:k. In the abon term, we ot'tly need to nmlember what is of immediate use in the lubsequent tnotnenf.l, Under ~onnar drCW'lWlmces, theTdbre, till., 'double imctiptiQn' of'fl3lK and pr~nt tt not experienl:\:'d as lltKh, because our attetuinn is directed ~ the Cwure. But if this fatter condition is ~ded (due to &ilu:re6 in attending to the present), then:a ce.rWn, par.ut0XlCid 'ntemOr'V oftbe prescot' takes place: dliji ~, We ~x.perlence this present a. ak~ f>4Jt (Bergson 1008). Th!:ja VI.l, Betpon ~ only makes ~ if we ~ that the past is coratiwted all past at. the lIRI'ne lime a& the praerlL The Berponian notion of c:ieji vu provides Deletu.e with a para.di~ e.u.m:ple of'traslKmdema.1 empiricism'. 1ran.scendenWJy spealing, 'our actuaJ ~nee •.. whilst it i& UllmUed m lime, dut>1k:.a.t.a itself aD along with a \'iI'n.lal e:Urence. a miI':ror-lmage. Every momem of our life prell!nG two upetts. it U attual and virtual. perception on the onc side .and memory on the Other. Each moment oflife is split up all and when it ill pcilli~ Or rather, it (;onsJsl$ in this very Iplinhlg' (Berpon 1908: 1M). .But if the fu~ted direction of a>gnition iII~, 'we can be<'A)IDe ronlldous of duplkating', <md experience what Delftaze ~alls a

mil

'direct or ~lldentalpr~wionof~·. Deja w thus t~ to a lruth at the ~dentalle'ilel:that 'each pre.ent goe:lJ bad to itll'elf tor returns to iuelf'j M past- (B 59). l)e.le\Ue goes on Hi suggest that the experience of deji w II in £aA:[ one C1f the coodiUotUl £or the enletgeJlce of aut:Ol:lOUlOUS ~ Like He~L Deleuze Goa nnt believe that thought ill nan.wral or proper to human bein~ rather somethinl must lint force us fA) thto.k. Fint lID intemive diiferenCe u llefll!ed wt.W:b 'move'il the llOul. "perplexes" It - in other ~ forc.es it. w po&e a ~m' (DR ).40). An intetUlive dlR'Shold:ill ~ and Vtoe cannot appeal to p~experlenc~whelp decipber it. becauee a'OSII&nt the tbredlold takes u.s beyond habitual ~ of $en&lltioo, 9ut be<:au.",

IOII)ethm.a

there are no~"a1 metnQI'ietI or COIl£e:pU lA) help UlI. De1euze ~ that what happens ilnl is that we are thrown bal:k on the -very ground ofour ability to svnthe1iize experience: the pure past. The pure past pressa in on ~ ~ of cognl;tive lndetennim.cy,. There is thw an im.ttledi:ate tendency CO ideruify problems Of questkIM 'with singullr objta.s of 11 ~ndental Memory' (DR

140), Dc:koNze suggcm dw Platonic :mamneMll. or recoUection might have its tr'3.D. !Cen4enw groWld here. In the A.frM, PlaiD ~IS that what. ill deJ
when, it's OUt of reach . _ What Deleum calls a 'transcendental memory" now emeraes, preei:ldy because orthe $l'nleture of thot ~on of the p!iStJUil

outlined:

'tramcendental memory ... grasps that tdUch &om the ootlld can only be recalled, even the first rtm.e: Dol a contingent past. but. the being 01 the put all lI'UCh lind tIw: pav. of every tnne. In mil mmne!', the f~n t.bing appeiV5 in penon t£l. the nwemory whkh essentially apprebend.ll it. It doet not address memoty ~Ut addreuing the forgetting witlnn mellwry. 1."be memorandum here is hom unrememberable and immemorial ForpttlnC is longer il corningent Incaparity separating US ftom a memory ~ is itself contil'l:goent: it exiII!!I- within efteflCial meJnm;r :as. though if: 'Ne1'\e the 'nth' ~r of snemory with regani to ib own limit or to dw: which em only be

nO

f~(ORI4())

Ddeuu and 1M Cfnromcious Thii recoliecriYe moment ~ the ~ from intenlllty to thought Tet3.tn$-it 5t.rO-;g power ovet' the S~ect of the ~trental experience. It is alwa.}'!\ possible dIal one can gel stud at the sLagt! of recollet:tion. and not mak~ dIe m~~ to thQught..Kif.~d's entire contribution to the theory of T~petitiOI1 a.nses. from the diagn~ of probkml internal to it Me of mcnwrv or remmis-

«!1KL.

'

no longer a funf;uon of the pilf{, bw. a function of tht' future. It ill n6t UK> will It is not the memory of ~ bur of words. It is the faculty of promllJing, commiunent w the futu.re, ~mory of the future itself. Remt'Illber the promise that bai been made is not recalling that it was made at a panicu1ar past :montent. but that une mWlt hold to It at a future moment This is p~~ty the se1ectM: o~ of culture; forming It man ea.pable of promising aJ'ld thus of making me of the future, a free and powerful man. (NP 1M)

1'nemQt)' of sensibility, but of the

1'he neurotic, it would seem, i5 the one wbo remahu unable to tum the passive memory iruo an 'active' memory. De1ew'.e :makes it dear that be does not believe that this symptom of ~'11Iimlem~ as me necessary result of an external ll3Wna. 'Th~re ill DO need fuI' him. to have experienced an ~

exciwion. Thill may happen, but it is not nccc:saary' (NP 115). 'Thill appem to ~ the di,tinaion betweell ~ man of ~ and the ~gn indi· vidual a matter of constitution. One eith~r 'suffe~ from re_~ences' or O'ne can 'attively forget' . The man of ~ in himself is a being full of pain; the .-Jerosis or hardening ofhiil COIJ.$CimW'1ell:i, the rapidity wUh which em-y exctmti(»\ lIets and freezes within him, tM weight of the aaas that invade him are so maDV (TIle) mfferings. And mort!: deepty, the IUmOry oj twJa:1 is full of ~ mWilf and by lJMJf. 11 is venomoUll and depreciative becrius.e it bJ.ames the object in order to cOlDpensate COl" its <JIm inability to e$C.ape from the tn\(;1:'5 of the cOl're$ponding ex.ciWlQU. (1\,}> 116) In ~chIJ -a ~ " Deleuze's 3I::Count of psychological min comes to test on me assumption of a dispo$ition to ~51 in the <:ognitiYe faculty
36 Our a.«ual existence" whiLIt it it unrolled in time, duplicates itself JU along with a virtual ~, a mlrroMmage. Every- moment of our life pt'esent1I two aspects. it 18 3Ctl.U1 Md VIrtUal, perception on the one side and ~ on the other, F..ach moment of lie ia llpti( up as and when it is jJ08ited. Or .rather, it con.siIlIta in thit very splitting. (Bergson J'Q08: 135)

The pa5t z.nd present are cOIltc'mporaneo1J.ll, although they abIolutely retain their difference in nature: one ~ virtual and. me other u actual. 'Tune ba!i 00 Ip{il at the same tit:ne ~ it ... unfolds irJelf it splitJ. into two ~ ~ one of which makes aU the preacnt piUS 00" while the other ~ all the put" 81). For the Frenchmen. it Is as if the mqe
«(;2

I"

Repetition and Eternal Return There are twO ethical iOnns of repetition.. Repetition is fim a liberation from recoll«tion hf the ~ of cmllingenq to the past. It Us only on« one has come to ~ with the p * and is gi'ren freedom in relation to it (by witnessing i$ cOfl~ncy),that one is tree to act nflW_ Thus repetiOOn I'll'" tint involve the abiity to re-wi11 my pUt Q£t10N. The imperative asb: 'Can. )'OU $C<m vrer all ,uur pall aml willlt again?' Only once mill re-willing is done <;an another son of ~ oome into belng, in which I uk myrelf ?'hether I can will the ~( amant I am about decide zgam in me futUre, This f.t the letond form.. 'Can you will thill action that you are about to do apin'? Thus ~ 1O~pan:l :u well as Nlewche. the ~ ClIlJed. 'repetition' thu.. leads 111 two direettons: brKbards and forwat'd.'t, You must be able to ~ paR ~f$. or will bacbr:«rds. But you mu:st abo k able to 're-wUJ' fono1U1k. The problem ill that both of these fornu of re~ gl~ me to infB'C'()nnected

paradoxes.

WJ.th rqprd m the fJ.flt form, the WlI'f to free ouellelf from 1I recolJ(:(;ti'Ye W::w past is to say 'I willed it thus'. Bur. the T who ViiIbl the pUt must be d.ii'ferent from the '1' Who wok tbetnllelves to be detenn.iMd by the past. By ~ agency in preftOUllllW where one belieged there 'WQ8 none, the re-wiIllngtubJett ~ a mm.t~ill one's relation to the PlUto The fJl'YChoanalytic treatme:m p:roridet the be:5a eumple of this prot:4bfS. But mh ~ in the willing agtnt obviously precludes the prMence of a 'telf-idencical' autonwny (in whkh the awonor.m:n.IJ seJf-binding und~ a:>ntinuil:y of put, present and MI:I.Ire); with the .notion of repetition we ~m 1:0 ~ ~ a:tltoMmy (i.e, not hack:ward.s to 'before' autonomy).20 WI~ f"eprd to the ~d form, howeYer, the idea that 1can commit m~1f of the

to re-will my present actions llf!eD1.i to depend 011 the ~n of an idemical self into t:h.e m\Ure. But matJ.ern ~ not so simple, Although in hill 1962 inlerpretation of Niel:25Che, De~ ~ a. Kanuan. ethkal noQon of etanal return. Deleuze h3s to walt for ~ to point out that the- erema.I return implies the dissolution of the ident:ica.t ~t in the future as well. tl Etef'Wd remrn implies that if [ am going to rc-wiD a pteYiOl\! a£1ion.1 will only be able to do 50 by taking it as tho: aa <4~• .KlomeOM with whom I an no longer id~nlify myself. ~ rem.iads us that N'letlKne's first encounter with the thought of the eter1lal remm involvet a ldnd of anamnesis (KlO1llOWll.ki 1969: 57). N"tetndte experiences an uncanny Stmwlungin which

he fee. aJI nhc h. been heR before. H01\tlm!!r, Ni.tltaebe'~ experienc:e of the thought of etellHl.i mmn goes I:M:yond deja w. The demon dw. aligh18 on NiettIclre'! sAoWder that day on the mountain in 1882 Ia)'l to him: what if you have not onW 00tn bt-re befure, hut been here before infini<e tirnear- For ~, the milly hiMdioue. thought about the eternal return la not tba.t one'. ~ of dtJl vu mJght be only the latest in an infinite tille. but t.llIhef aD ~on of that hypothesis. For if you have been rel:llmirlgto t.hill ipOt ~ times. then that means you have in the meandme ~ )'OW' pretetlce b~. And the logk dictilU!s that you will (orget it apin. But then once this. n~euuy presence of forget:tiog: is introduced. t1Nl thought of eW'lUll return begins to e':l£CI't more power. The impIka1ion now !l.1'engthem the premilM!. For forgetting is wmething that u out 0{ my (;OftscioUll conlrol AnamntlllU or recollection already imolve:t forgetting: when I know something on the modd of ~ , I remember lKmlething dw. J have fO:rgouen. But if I bave forgot.Wl it once, then I might ~ fof'gooen it a number of times. My ego ~c~ to ha¥e .,Jute:ly no power aver forgetting. But if a stria of rememberings a.nd f~tting8 16 po_Ie, then the anamnesiac's problem changes.: ~ problem of Isolating 'JOme pmileged, originary momeru when the truth was given (an original ~tion of the Ideas, another world beyond the rive-r ofLedte) disappe.ars. Th~ anamnClliac l~ their trail~endence. Deleuze RreMelllbat 'uthere if.. in Gre:~e or elsewhere. a ~uin(:' knO'Wledge of ete:mal ret.l.un, it is a t:nJel and e'SOterlc:: knowledie which must be sought in anodJer di.mentlon. more In)'llteriom and mono: uncommon than that of lMtron~ or qualit.a.t.iYe eyelet and I:hcir generalidet' (DR 242). TO¥lo"at'd& the end of thee- l).ook 'fe will see bow important'ellOterk:' e<mcept.i.ons of tM human mind were to Deleuz.e. In the He~ writinp of thim.cefttmy Alftandria,. tM bUtbpi3lce of Neoplatonism and me Cabbala, ()1U~ 600. dw: idea that the hwmm being's true 'identity' is diKoven!d when 11 Jeej UNff'.. ~ 'tnialxoam'. In De1euze's esokric: rendering of me eremai return, the. aruun~ loses theit C()~on to an ~ tran!lCendena!, Uutcad.. in the \IIiOI:'dI of the fml d~nt l.n the ~ ~ 'being made ~' (Copen· haw;r l~ 6), ThiJ ~ an only be reaiiled through the encounter with a higher, interior Other, the um:oo~

38 bf. active and pWtic. This ~ would explail1 rea.'lOnably "''ell what goei on in the brain' {ibid.}. It 13 eti}' 10 see why 1leleuze begim his late book on Lejbl'li2, 1'?v Frffl:t. with a

l.eibniz, Locke and the Theatre of the Uncomcious

"is

1980 l«tures on Leibnu-, Dele-l.l.Ze ~ that 'It ill Leihniz wtlo Mt proposed rbi' gteat idea. IhilllIrllt great tht'Ory of «his differential unCam<::lOUll, and it lw M'ler gOne away sinl:<:, 'There i:$ a very long tradition of this differIn

detlcription afLcibnu's baroque makeovert:ifLod;e's camera tlbscura Eve:r'l" thing abour mil> scene in the Ntfl} ~ brings to mind thar pel-"Uliar Mfett which 1leem!! tn reskk :it the core of Delew:e'll work. and iJ manifest m~t dearly in Injj:mtr:e (J#I(j ~ the llense of exb:tence all a lheme when: the dream~li"e~Ie that uotolck before <me ill w.t)'$ threatening ur turn into II rorporeal, directly felt nightmare, where the red CW'13i.n$ mitt pan More the state are revealed, on clOiler m~tion, Ii(} be made from lmng ft~, where hallucinatory dread I;. ConUfl'tlllily blending with II m~eriaus d.adtm. Somehow, we ~ bo.clt 'n ~ theatre of repetition' where 'we experience pure forces, dynamic. lines In space which act wJt!:tOUl intermediary upon the spirit, and link it. di:n:cdy with nature and hi5rory . . , with pm.res wbkh develop hd'ore organised ~ . , •with spenres and phanroms before char,
enlial cun.,;eption of th(t unco!Uclow baled on minu.~ percepr.lon5 and rninUl<e appeUtiam' £nird U:ibn.iz lecmre, 12). We,.,ill hear mOle about this amoll$ tr.adidon (which ptThaps only e.xiics in ~'i mind) in chapter 5, bUt thili opening chapter will oonclud~ with a brief inU"Cldl.ll:;uon to Utibniz's pb1losopb)' l){ the unroracious, in which the Hennetic rr.adirion meets with ~rn

philOllOphy. ft Lcilm.h expounds his notion of un<:oMf:io~ pe.rceptiOl1ll in lJlO$t <:letail in rh~ .~.&u,s Oft lluma:tt U~. hit critiqut of ~ empirlctsm,

wnuen m the funn of a dialogue between 'PhiJ:adleles' and 'Theophilus" who represent Loch and Lcitmiz respccoveiy.!J\ Lodte daiutil that we an: tabula tlIIIa or blank surface at the momen't o£birth. but as thl!' child begins to accom.modate ~If to its mrroundingl, it ~ali.tes it ill in fact in II camera obeM:ura: ·External and lnu:rnall.leJ'Wdon are the only P~1l that I can find, of);.n;)W.> ledge, to the undenamding_ 11lae which light it Jet Int<.l this d.arlr l'OOM. For, methinks, tile undel' s~iYIg ~ not much UJl1ike a. closet whollj' mur from light. with only !lOme b~e o~J1mg'i left., to let in ur.e.ma1 \IW.bk resemblances, or ideas of things Without (Locke 1690: II, 11.11). 1beophUus. Leibniz's ipokemwl in tile N8W En~ replies that the undentmdinS is indeed rather like a dark .f'OoOm, but if Phllathelell examined it a littko more clOflely, lIe would sen diat the contours of this roanl ~l it to be lIOJrl¢tbing different lIQain from a camera obicura First.. '\1,'4' UJouJd have to postulate that mere is II $(T'(len in tbill dark 1"OOm' (Leibniz 1165: 144), The camera obscura ill fitted with Ii small candle that sh~ds. a small amount of tighr (Locke IG9Q; I, 1.5}, U) we can imagine PI'Illatbeles wandering about with this candle. and then accepting that one of .the ~ Jltlghr. ,..".11 serve M a lICTeen. but only fur the F'~ocOOn of madOl''5. Ihetbwi It, t.his~, Theophilus then continues, 'i..'i nOl uniform', No this 't7~~ is 'd~&d by folds representing items of innate KnO'Wkdge; 'and, what, ~ ~, tb1i &erffJl. or membrane, being under tension, has 11 land of eJa.moty Of' at':~ furce, and indeed it acts (or reaets) in wa,s whkh are adap~ both leo ~t (<.lIds and to new llJ1es coming from the impressions', The reatlJon of Philatheki, !A:Jck.e'g. apo~ in the lW:w Esut;p, to th6 haUuQ.. nar"ory ~e is nOl presented. but one can imagine him saYing (to,ith il l.ock~an Ul'lM.tr), ~ it's; a. screen for Im"'~ but also a ;on of pt.l1h1Janng ~4llt, and it hat folds. more like a the:atte L"Un.ol.in than a SC:re-en in fact , , " Yes. Theophilw contin~s. and 'mill acnon would consilt in vibrations or osdll.atiol1.l, like th~ we ke when a £Oro under- tel1lIk:m u plucked and ~ ~ sometb~of a mwlIt::d Ik')uod. For not only do we recei,.-e im.s and traces m the bram. but we funn new on~ from them when ~ bring "complex ideas" to mind; and ~o the scr~n 'Which rnpresenl$ £IUr brain mWI£

cerrain

7

I

I I

t\ ,

imp.ending~Ul.OU(;bl-e3k.. A dark room Wl3t:Coun~begirli to ~ with :an impenon:al. inhuman life. Lcibniz is the ~r~r of~ uncon6cious, but the undecidable osc.iDadon of reason and madnesil with ~'bich he approaches it .Ii dOfe£ ro that of the paychooc mtb:er than the nelll"OUc. If then: i~ one lhing (ommon ur the great mooern speculative ~pben;. Leihniz, Hegel ,md ~, it is tire dik chat ~g the unh-e~ with a non-orpnit life might make it altogether uniDhabitabJe far sane bl.lM4U.\ beings.. Lcibnlx'-, haltudnarory, l'1letamQrphk theatl'ell, Hegel'a Night and Dela.u:e's theatre of terror eadl ieem to signal a moment iuJl of dread before the llI.talnment of absolute self.d1ff'ercntiation: the moment of fear that the abwlul.e S~ec\ Qlpaht.e ofinc.amaling (IT' 'bearing' ahlJolu!.t' dUkrence mtght be, in fact, (;om, flIetdv inJI;ane. In Deleua's work, mOM ~rfu.lly in ~ 4P'ld ~ this fear is never far from me .mrface, md in a ~ one could $l.)' mat, :afu:r Leilmil Md Hegel, it has ~ ~ in Deleure. His ultimate problt!m, poerba~, is how ttl (Opt wilb th~ pogib.Wy that the absolute tl.ll!ject, in and fOr iuclf, is mad, :l p e ~ fraaured T, . In the NJ!W ~ the notion ill the UJlCt)l:!4(iuUll is inuOOoc~ 33 a special domain bf t.IuNgJt.t (l.e, ~ moTe than a descriptiOn of the mental staUl$ of pny,.. iological. ~nts mch as breathing). ~ notion of' tt..t: U1ICornciQUS emerges out ill LeRmiz's attempt to find a retp<>tUe to Lod;e', cmpi:rki$t C1ttapQlad<m of ~ . notion of cOD.iClowmess, L:ld:r mki up ~'s idea lbat ~ m.enw ~. must be Iimlilabl(' to ctmSdoumess. .and then puu it to anti· ~ ends. ThIJ3, following ~. be alI1lltm that "til altogether as

40 inteUigible to say, that a body is extended without pan$. all lhat any thing tldRks tl.~tM1lg'O'1t.Sd.ow rfU, or perceiving, that it doe$ so' (Locke 1600: Il, 1.19). To ~t that there can be trlfmW State.! mtbout conJcio.umeu il abturd; if lIOD1Cthing is in the mind, tlKm. II b cOD5CIoUl. ·What.ever Idea was ll~'er perceived by the mind. \1,'3$ n~ In the mind' libid.: 11.4.20). HoWC\-~r. to lnier from this•• ~ d<>es, dY.tt the!' eoo.tents of the mind a.r(! ~l).' 'trltnSparent to us, and that "Nt'! MOW our mind$ better tblll'l our bodiI!!l, II mht.akc:n. The problem Iia with ~'. imi.Kence thal the mind hi a sub!Gt1ce in Its own right Ifit ha!i the independent, .elkuffident and permanent StiltUs ()f a mhmwce, and if all its conteotf are avail.abl.e to c ~ then ~:liian (:Oll~ mwt be lnlOJ:Rnia&:; lO the point of delirium. Here,.

Locke sua~. Rl~ empiricist common ICnSe is n~. The empiricist starting point ts that the mind i5 a t:ahub. ~ the mmd is 'furnished' in the course of experience (loI;:ke 1600: n, l..2). But in that case, Locke wggesu, 'I see no reason mer<:fn~ to belte¥e, thai the ~ tki1W bIfimt lilt ~ ~ fu'tms/uld it wiI.h idIJtu 10 lhink on' (ibid.: iI, 1.!O). It .. he kI av, with Descartes, that ~ mental content ill eowdous by detlni£io-D, but whcth.,r there 1! actually anything going on itt the mind at any giwm point is another qt:IaItWn entirely. ~ere may be nothlnglU. ~m' there maybejwt wharew:t' h~penlHO be (K'CUpymg.the!letlJeS at that mODlC'nt. But whll~ is present in the m!nd must be conSClotU.

In Leibni.t;'s response we witn~ the blnh of the concept of th~ unC~0U3. Aa a. rationaliK in the Cartesian tradition, he is completely re&iswtt ID «be Locb:m doctrine that 'there is nothing in the soul wbich does not i:OIIle trnm d1e~'. Dd'cndingthe independlmce tithc lIphere of the mental from the $phere Qf sensation, Leihniz's famous ritxX'te is that there u indeed nothing in :t'e sou:! which does nOl come from the ~ - apart from the Rlul it!elf: ror the 5Oull.ndudtls bemg, mbs1ance: On.:!, !alllC'. aw.IIe. perception, reasoning, lUlU many other notions which me sen:ses CilJUlQt provide' (Leibniz 1765: Ill). The obje<:tion antidplUeS .Kant's ~ten.e€ on th~ diCfereJU:c in kind between sensation and the undentanding. But at the same time. Leoibniz_ the force of Locke's critique of «be Cane&ian theory of mind. H one i& going to mggest. that theTe is more in the mind than what is coming from the 9m8ell, then it is indeed ahmrd to say mat l\I\.lch an extended domain of ~ntaJ (OO(etlt tnUllt tM: ~ Hence there ill one way out: introduce the COtIc::ept of uneon~OQS tnenml content, Leibni.z'g way of expanding the mind beyond conk)~ is, through the notion of peruptlon. As NichoIa$JolIey pul.1 it: 'For I~u;. pen:eption is a genus of whidJ me thought or co.tUcioume1J8 recogntlled by t>elllC'ar'teS lUld l..ocke if a 8~ Uld thus he 'WaI'lt:s 10 admi~ a dass of ~n(e or tmcoNcious perceptions ~ ~ ~ i~) ~l.Ch ~e Dot awilable to~' (JolJey 1984: 101). In fact. k i$ an ~tere&tmg quirk of the hiswry of philo'llopby tblU. Leihniz roirm the ~ ~~eption' to di$tinguilih between WlCQtudout and eonsciow pcrceptlOnlt. hi 'Prindp~of Na.tme and Grace'. he puts it 38 follu'lft:

41

It is good to distinguish between ~ wbkh is the int:e'/'1'l.3i tW.e of thlJ monOId representing external thinp. lind ~ which is c~, Of the refl«ti\'e knO'lll'iedge of thill internal Kate, IOmet.hing not gi'¥l:m to all 1lOUls, nor at an rimes w a given lOW. MoreoYer. it is because they lac;k'this distinction thai. the ~ failed. dillrepr
Leibniz goes on to pm$$ \bat Lock.e'i doctrine 11 indefensible from an empiric:alpsycho1ogica1 ~ofview.IfLocke hal faroedCanesiam to adnowledge the ahwrdit\' of their ac«tUft\ of mind, he bas a&o forced himself into 1111 llppOO.fe em:ner, fur now be is '1::UC:k with an account of mind ttw. Itrictly speaking. only dow!l what i5 ~ C0mc10w.ly present in the mind. to wunt as m.cmtai. It is lit this point mal Leilmiz introdU<:e1l the ootinn of the uncon· scious. through me mediation of the concept of the ~ Ow: lifted author seems to claim t1w there ia l10rhmg vintW f ~ in u.'I. Jut he <:annol hold Strll:tIy to this: (Ithe~ his position would be tOO ~oxkal, since _.. we are not at". aware of our acquired dispositionli , or the {~~nlenu of ow' memory, and ~ do not «Mm come to our aid whenew!r we need them, though mey Qfien rome readily to mind when some idle drcumst:lllloCe reminm 11$ of them, :as when heiring lbe opening W'OI"ds of a llOftJ it en~ to bring back me- rellL (Ibid., ttans. modified)

Here Leibnit jntrot.iw:'et habits and latent memorte= as e:um~ of mental wbkh must mbsW. YlraJll11y, but without actual wmci~ from there ~ Inl."M:ll to memlJJies whkh l'etiu being pulled up into w~\ but 'WIricl\ are htler provett to Mw! been. SUbsisteDl in the mind ~lts. Such ~ fur the ~ ufw lllK:ontcious ptrsi6tin ~ (d. SE If: 2{)1). It is iDmre:J1ing ro obsene how pbeoomwa. of memory onlY' 9tart to become a philc»ophical imle in the 'IIi'Ue at' this pan:icular cmpuu bf/twflr(ln ~ lind empir:icis'ls. Pmmpe it taket this dispuue fur future ~tiOf1j of the ~t.:anc:e of memory tQ ~es& to go on to acqW.re a new. rvreaching signifiCADCe. In dfet:t. the ~ of me unc:onsciooa 6m emerges through a kind of diaiectic be~ nrir..lNlisl and empiricist aaounu of umKlousnea. Rena l..dbmz'1I privileged pos'oon. as it pou-Lodean ~ (Descmes and 5pinQD were dead wen befiJre the publication of l.od;~'s Uw,1. In tm Arne ~ Leibniz goes on to ~ Wr~ ~ 'linrla hill them to the ltatam:m: I:hat l'.hfm! iI nodUng in us of ~mcb ~ have oo1ltflnt

The Patlwiop$ of Ti~ not at le.tSt preriollsly been aWilJ"e' (ibid.), This restncrioo allows locke, in !h~ to deal with the above Qbjections, Howeller, he is still obliged to ~um for how latent mmlOries are posr;ibte on hiJ own official theory limited mem with an argument that te!16 om own lJinjt<;, with regard to now £aT we.are prepared to follQw the ratiomdlst'f, commitment to reason: 'But no one can establish by reason alone bow far OUT past and nOW perJaps forgottell apperceprimls may have ~nded. especially if we accept the Platonist's doctrine of recollection which, through m~r myth, ill entixdy consilltent with umtdmtled rea.llQn' (ibid" tran~. modified). These cQJtJt1lMt! do abo point forw.w:i to modem conception,; of the uDconsClOO$. but Ihry' are noL Freudian. Bergson mggeth Unl me fonn ta.k¢n by the preJJen-ed past iUtrodllCes effecUl into memory which do not derive from the mere recording of previous 5enu· tiQns; Kierkegaanl ShOWli IIDw Platonic rerolt.e<:rion ma.Jt.e.8 Ileme for us mOl:knu, and Jung attempts to defend the idea of the preservation of an impersonal p3S1.. .As leibniz CODtin~. 'Funbemwre. why mlL'K we acquire everything rbrough apperceptions of outer lhings and not he able to unearth anything from within oune1'l:f!s' (ibid.)? Leibnit's own mit:roconnk l';onception of \mCQIlsaous per' ception i.! presented most vi\'idly in the fuU~ing ~e: 11u~jI('

minUle ~rceptiom , , . are more effective in their resului th:m ha£

been recognised. They cOII$tinu:e tha~ je I'U! J6M 'fUOi, thOfie tlavoUJ:ll, thO&e imagH of sensible qualities, vivid in 1M aggregate but contUsed as 10 the pariS, tbO!le impre5Sions which are made on us by the bodJies around U$ and which involve the infinite; that connetrion thai each being has with ail th~ rest ilf the univenle. It can even be said that by virtue of these minute percep(KmS the preS(:nt 1$ big with the future and burdeMd with tbe past, that all things harmonize - ~ fR:mI4, as Hippocraw$ put it - and that ~C5 as piemng as God's could read in rhe lowliest robsr:ance the universe's whole ~uence of evenu - '"-'hat is, what was. and what will S(H)n be brough t in the future' [Vtrgil]. (U!ibniz 1765: 54-5) The present is bod! pl"egnalll with the fulUre and "burdened with the past', This double burden appears in the ibrm of unoonscious perCf!poons. l.eibniz claims th.n ·thefe l.nllen!rible percepdong' are aIoo responsible for me prellef\'anon of past experient;es; in the individual, 'even when the individual hi:msoelf has no lIeJ:i$e of the previous AtalO1, ie. no L<mger hM any explil;it memory Qf thfln' (Leibniz 1765: 55), Hen: uncomcioU$ mem~ are now properly unconscioU:$ - i. e. more than nrer~1y latent and readily retriet'able ~ because they an: i.ItaIe! that have become 'lmplil::akd' or <envcloped' once m~, and no longer belong to the unfulding of the present. As we have $een. Leibniz

uLkft it as an empirical fact that it is poMble for merrwrie, to elude ~ , and this is one of tw. reasom ror claiming the ~(:e of un~iow; perceptions. But it is not JUSt that previous con5cious experiences are retained all unconscro1J5 perception!, Striking a blow ~t the Lockean remicdon of mental llCU\lity to «mJICiousness. l.eibni2. contends that I can coB!ciously ~member thtrJg$ now of which I W3(I 'flC( conscious at the time. The present moment it burdened with unconscious virtual I:l\emones which have not ret been Uplicated, as well ali registering evellt$1h:.lt are 'not corw:ioudy attended to.it the time of [their) oa:urrence' (Jolley 1984: 139), Now, although ~ unconscious perceptions l'JllW btc relegated to a fltckering, ~lrrual m~istence, l.eibniz then insists th
r

Personal Identity and the Metempsychotic Unconscious Leibniz's i:nlroduction of the uncomcioUll has ~ry specific co~uem:e& with reptd to the iswe of penonal identity.•-\$ we have ~n Leibnu dd'wds the ~ notion of thinking N'bstance ;tpinst Locke'$ empiricimn, by hmng .ret:Qune to the notion of unconltdOUi thought. BUI in the proceN of criOrizing De&carte'&, Locke :tho develops a powerful and mftuential cridque of Descartes's notion of the identity of the thinking su~ect. ~a.tU$ has a 'subnamwi.&t' or nOUl11enal notion ofidentity (Jolley 1004: 126). ~ can cltart ~ de!leloptnenl in the concept of personal identity from DfSl:::lnes, Loeb: to L.et1:mil: by reference to Da\id Lynch's Lost Hig1uJxIJ (1996}, whkh develops th.e same theme, For Desr::arres. the protagonist of the' fUm, Pete, would be the lIll.Ine person as Fred if they share the same immateri.al mbrumce, The problem ~irh D~'$'riew is dill( thi$ identificaQ011 an tmlr ever be made by an omnisdfflt God and there is nc) way for U$ wjudge whether identity of substance i$ indeed conserved. In Lal HighrtklJ' the only omnbcioent prellence is the
mw.

45 wbaamce. if ~"t' are prepared to at::Cept that the pollSibility 1hat rome radical physkaJ lI"anaoIllliltian of Fred'!\ llOOy hu $OO;lebow happened OvemighL Mttteover, if we (;u P'l'~ IUm theomt.& suc.g$) ;;It" idmtihing with Fred as the prot.a.goMit of the fihn. we feeljust ltS unable to otTer anv criteria for identity if we t.ah up his standpoint and .uempt to see thingts from his peI1lpective. FtJtahadowingl'Ca.nt in the ParaJ~ DellCartei admits that we do 11m peralNe !'I.I.bstance direetJy, but only 'know A subslaJ1Ce by one of ib awibutl:s' {De.K:iU"te1 1644~ 210}. And oonsequently, extrapalaring from Fred to us, there are no internal c:rlteria ebher for asse56ing whether 6Ur identity is l»ntinuow. Hence the male\'Q!ent M)'lltery Man in the film is permitted to intercede, as a demon, between WI and Ute 'truth' about Fred's/Pete's identirv. and to ex.ploit our arudetieJ about the potential disconcinuity of the self. . . In thlC .&.sGy, Locke sees clearly that a lIubstant:ia.list notion of penonal t~ndty is untenable, and offers no defem!:' against demonk ~ at all. Uthe sUbiA.anec is material. then our idenUtie8 change with our ~ if the ~ is immaterial, then there are no epis~c t:riteria (or det:iding whether mmtal1ces exist continuowly, or whether 'we' are in fact composed of discondnoous !lU~ in any case Locke hal already mounted 2. celebrated critique apinst the notion of iJnnwmaI 8U~ (whkh he sa.tiri.Ja t i nothing :more than an 'I know not wnm' tlmt is held to be behind ~ ances) , There is. in fact. nothing in the CMtesian view which dOoell anything to hold 3l bay 'thO$e philoaophers who allow of tranl'Jll.igmtion, and of the opimon that tlH! soul$ ofmen may. for their mittaniages. be ckuuded into the bodies of beasts, as fif hahiwioJU. with orgam roited (0 the sat:ilifaction of their brura! inclinations' (Locke 1690: n.27.6). .I..OCke believei that the absurdity of mch a view make$ iuelf dear when we reflect that 'nobodv could he be sure that the soul ofHdiogahalus ~re in (me of hir. ho~ wo~d yet say that hog were a mtlltOC He~' (ibid.), That way tmidnea lies. So Locke tonb:!n& dutr. peniOnai identity is in fua not dependent on the pe:rmanenee of mho~ at all, but on the continuity of OUT consciousness over time, The preser~ of su~tialidentitr is not the relevant crilerion for personal identity. Since consoousn.esa alwa~ accompanies t.h:inking, and 'tli that. that makes every one to be, ~ be calk it Nlf; and du:.r~by di.trlnguishea hilMelf from aD other thinJting hemp, in mw alone ~omim ~ ldimlitJ' (Locke 1690: II.27.9). For Lode, a ~ is 'a th.inlting intelligent being, that Jw fea:9On and reflection. and can consider ItllClf as 1ue1f, tht: Wlle thinking thine at ~nt tinle$ and places'; a m.an. on the other hand, i.I the bQdy inh&bired by the penon. On Locke's argument. if I remember preW>LB ~ts as having happened to me. then I am identical with me person who I.ived those event!. 'As far as this consclous.neu em be exteru:kd backward. to any past Action or Thought, 80 far reacbell a:he Identity of that Pmtm; it is the same :ulf QOW 26 it was then; and 'tis try the same s.elfwith thi., present one that now retJecu an it.. ~fuu tJul.\ Action Wall done \ (ibi.d.). TI:riI is one or Locke's mast ~utionary id~ ,he gels beyond the idea that identity ill rooted in tile pernum~ of llQme ma.ccessible subMance. and by empha..'lizing <:ontinwty of conscloUlIDess

over time, ~es penmlal identity from the th~ of denl()nic interfere~. However, in doing so, he aho tries ro be very careful to allow Wr the ~oher· 'l!n<:e of the doctrirl~ of the Resurrection. If we are resurrC(;ted. and we dD happen to remember our pt~ life. then the resurrected penon is the same lil$ the formerly dad ~n, despite being pregeTltM with Ii. new, postapocalyptk, gloriowl bod,. So ~tity is saved. and Resurrectian W(l remain.s jX.iSQ'bI~. But 3lUU! point. the- ~m()ns find a cr:lCk. and creep back in. Lt:.;de also rec~ that an odd result of hiJI rargument is. to admit the pom."'bllity of the tr.lnlImigra1io of souls, on ~ tIuit tJw past liv& arr rrmemberetL So if He1iogabalus emerged from his royage through the circuit of binm iWd rebirths, and 1\Ia$ able t<J remember his past lives, whether il'1 Rome or in the pip.J. chen we ;;ould quite Jegitim4lte1y llity that He~ had been the .me 'penOn' throughOUt his traVaila. l'heophilus ~ with Philatbeles on dl.is poinl 'If there were no connec· tion by way of memory between the different ~ ... there would nat be enougb moral identity to say that this ~~ a ~ pentOn. And if God WlShed a hwmm soul to p35lI into the body of a bog and to forget the man and perfunn no rational acts, it would not comUi:ute a man' (Leibniz l7~; W). A!I hogs are not able to speak. write or paint pictUte$, we might l1e'rel" feml of the hog's true identity (this would pethaps only become clear when the wheel of births had been ~d). N~nhea, Theophihls r«aIllI thm in 1M Goldm ~ Lucim 1& forced to wander from mal!te1" to master in the akin of an l l § until he is restored to his fonner shape. (Flction. Leibniz lelh w. tan showbO'll1 such tramfonnations can be wrought in one lite, but, as Lcibnix no doubt knew. ApWciua's GoiJ.A A.v, the original titk of which ill the T~~ Dj ~ Jl.~ of M ~ t9 no ordinary fietion, all it is held to contain an auth.enric account of inidati6n inID an oriental CulL) Theophilua alto acknowledge. certa.in of Philathda',j pointll about 1M importance of bMing ~ criteria fur identity. bued in the continuity of memory and CODKIoU8nel!l {OJ: personal identity. In fact, he adds a further ph~ oiterion: the permu.:me of reguJat and cUm#tel1t appearanc¢$ in the external world, veriliabte t1u:'ough the wstimony of odten in the outer world (ibid). AI: one point TheopJillus l!\"en concedes that real idmdl}' could be altered by God in some ~ary manner, while personal identity lIf()uJd be preserved (i.bid.: 237). But then TheophilUli objects that Phlbtheb'll theory ia too l!troIlg as It fu!ID'M from it that we are nol the same pel"llOfl .. we were when we were infanw .) would Mt 1rish to deny, .. that -penooal identity" and even the "'set£" persist in w. and that 1 am that I who 1l/4Lil in tbt'.' cradle mtff:1y on the grounds rhat J c.m no longer renl
46 , , I oo\Wl-tti1l Jearn from othen about my li£e during my preceding ~~ and WnJ_ty, I would ba+<e remined my rigbts 'Without haYing to be dmded into. tiro peIWtu and made to inherit from mysdf" (Ltibniz J.765: 2~7;. 'l.be su~ tel\ce of my past should not be excluded from my identity even if It is out of reach (If my pnwnal, conSl:loU! ac15 of memory,::' A~ 10 ~me cOJ:W.Tl(maton, u:ibniz e~w.a1l'Y just revem to ~ posnion that Lodtt VI attading: that noumenal or robstantial. identitY is ewmuaJ to' personal identity, Indeed. he dOC$ say that 'an identity ....b kb is apparem to the penon com:eml'd , , . presu~ a real identity Qbu1ning throu~h euh immediate !temporal) t:nl.n~ition· (ibill~ 236; Jolter 1984: 134-7), But according w]ol1e\: Leibniit ar.:.c.epts Locke' 5 criterion of personal identity, and 'even adopm a !t.1"Unger and cruder fonn ofthe criterion than. Locke', QWTl. for ~'hereas UJcke argue.$ onlv tor pOlemw ~ mat a penon could remember an event I.l.nder cemin conditions - l.eibniz is committed to a form of actual memorY. At every moment in hIS MtorV ;\ penon is unron&Ciously

'r«::membering' e\'~ry prt\'\oioWl awe, as well • antictpatin$ all his fulW't experiences' (Jolley 1984: 14.0). It ili indeed true that Leibnu.'s monadology al1~ him to be a SUbsWltia&t about identity without being a materlalillt. But it is 8i if,jmt at Ole moment 1hat~mtereMin,appean in Leibniz'. thought. hI' is seel' to retreat ""tit a flO1irilh. uttering ablurd theologial MWUbojUl1l00 3$ be goes. F~t L.eitmi! from lht: hlArory of the ph.ik!8ophy of the uncorulcious. The problem is that th~se condUlliiom O'l1erlook what a probably the lnOlft importmt thing: ~bniz'!! disrinction between lhe muw md the lW:tual (Lcibll17 1765: 52). .!U preserved, memory is DOl acmal at: all, hUI rather virwal; the exi$tence of mwility does nOt depend on its a<:twd~.:.e Perhaps Theophilw '$ h6itatiOfi!1 at thi5c point are ~TflP~ of an Internal b~akdown in the dialogue. There u. no real ~ between uibniz and 1.«" :at this poifit.. ~ died m 1705 while Leibniz wall finW!ing the NI!!W ~ and Ihm never got to hear about ~ percepUl)IlS. teibnlz in1agmed that f« Locke, the question of th~ unromcious would h.a:re been primarily a rnot'3l~. The ~ty to maimain ~ identity is eMl'l.rl3l £01' moral real;Qn5.: .~. . is a fo~Mk omn' (Locu 1690: n.27,U). Personality u required lrot juIt for accountability in this life, bl.tt fur 3CCountlbility at I.h«: I.a.ttJudgement. If IOmebody ii Co be held auounbble for their a<::tions. then they must be able 00 :rernetnber them. or else any punishment ~will be unjUSt, 'rh.~, ~~. that am tCQt.l:Witted in drugged or drunken Slatet, or in s~g. eannot be ~, no more than aet& commltled before an <mae. of amn~ Even if the t'ir&t IWO e.x.arnplcl. are 'fOluntlUy and me latw' In\'61unw)', the problem remairts ofhow to iIlola~ thtc blaI.nC'WOrtby 3t'tIDn. A drugged murdeft\f is not held acroumable for murder became he voJum.artly took~, but. ~ he cllUlmmd murder - but the in~lion to murder and m: oon.surt\Jll;i\ti(ln ~ in It. ~ of deran.ge' ment.

Uno.on.sciotl.S memory is 'i'irtwd, and pr~ in a &tate difi't!tmt in kind &om actual sta~, which are ind«d impurable. ~ em imagine Leibniz at this

Tbt! Pathologies I>f TitM

41

point. peering with Theophilus lY'In the edge of cOllScioumess, heriwing before the riIion of a uniV~T!K' oom~ of inferior and s:upertor consdi::lU!ine&5es, ea<.:b enveloping the ~ toOrid {r{)m their own pe~pective, and according tQ their QWtl speed. There will have M be a re'lolUJion in fgrensia in o.rder to deal with milt infl~ of psycl\k life.. If there are 'superior con~ M:10U5l1esst!S', thq mum' have undergone !lOme tI'llI:IldOmlan()ll, by which their dommant. rooni'llh h~ broken mto II 'sreatel' theatre' (Lribniz 1114h: 223, # 75. 1:.f'a.'CU. modified), With the image ofTheophilus and Pbilatbe!es frozen on the membran~en in hi5 YWlera ob~, L.eibniz relieeu further. W(rombing «> !Omniaca1 r~. 'Souk. in genna}, ~ living mitrot'$ or ~ ot'U1e unl:ve~ of aeatuI'e.$' in th:Jt they expr~ their relations with the rest of the universe through perceprion and memory of it. Rut tum 'minlt! are abo Imi<{i;cc of dMntry ilVli . , , ca~{' of knowing che system of the univene' {Leibniz 1114b~ 22!. '# 83). SpmruaI be\J1gl! can unfold or develop their i'C'Ja.. rions to die untrene and attempt ro uodef1ltllnd • it i8 ~d in the \VliI.y it is. By rationa11v reconstructing the order of the univene, (tIer am ultimarely pose the qu~rt ofwhetber iJ h.tu to be ()tgan~«l in mis parti.(ular \ n~re ~peci.&al1y :tenmbllt intUition (A ~JWUllngJ whidi is cast off, leaWlg <mly

m.

< ,

5.

wen

the 'spiria..ar ~ behind, becawe •every <:llU!le retains iu dfe«s lIS an eremlil ~.km·.:rl In the following chaptet$ 00. !twinet and oa:u11:i.sJn 1ft will ~ dw. Deleure cat..es the ewcerk: dktw:n that the 'wmidisan egg' un~ air Ser1CnJily!'& The entire pJ'OCe1lll of ontogenesis m:ay be undeNt.OOd 35 the flight of an embryo through the pha.tei of bUimq, childhood. youth, etl:, Th~ are the molar intemive ~ miLt make up the process of individuation. But if, with Lejbniz 4Vld Berpm, we ~ the ~tk ~ that the human being is il mkTocolIm, then we 1llU$t be ~ to bet::oJne aware of a v.w:er set of 'molerolar' intenSive tran5fOrrna.ticmI, In that ca"l'e Fechner's plfChophysiQ. COl'll'J'"ar'y tl) what we may hlwe ~ at the begin. ning, even become!>
Chapter 2

The Wasp'5 Sympathy for the Caterpillar: The Somnambulist Theory of Instinct Freud'l the
me

51

50 French biography of his wribngll !t.a.rts. 1 For.a period ofl'iftren 'l~~f$, up until the publication of hii landmark I;xx,k. Diffl!Tmu and Rlpf!ti.tWtt, l}eleuu: 1'o'lU to publi6h, many studies in me hislOry Qf philosophy and literature, Hi!- fin>.t pulr lkations in the early 1%05 were d~ted to Hume artd &rgron. F.rplidt disCLmWn of the unconscllQW ~ rare in these workll, In hili first article on Bergson. Del.ewe had aftirmed Bergson's ilieory (in Mo:~ /Pta .\ifmory) truzt 'The past is the in·iue!f, the t.mwf1$ciow or. preci.'llely, as Bugron ~, the virtwll {OI 29). This identification of memory with the uncomCiOUS wa¥ 3lre3dy profoundly non-Freudian. in that the uncoNcious was not primarily ~h~rized as the repository of panlculM ~ d (~) represenu.· nOlD, but InStead ~noted the rer:ained past as a wlw1£. in its relation to th~ lil'ing present. On tbi5 theory. what is rep~!lMX'l U tim of all ~ past iIMlf. not particular me~~; whereas Freud toQk little interw in latent memorie&. they......ere die ley to the norion of the uncowcious for Bergson. Bcrpon de~'e}' oped his p$Y(;hologv In close rol1tat:t with PierreJanet. For B~n andJanet. what mak.et ODe ill is nO( the reprmioll of particular noxious memories. but the- ~l'Ale of diswciation from ~$ftnr. liCtM.ty.! Bergson andJanet insisted that psycllopathology often baJ temporal {and spatial} as~~ which c.annot lx Teduced to repr~d Dekuze will adhere to this fundamem:alh temporal contepoon of the unl;onsOous up until DiJ!em'ue and ~, where he atgUe$ that the IJn((lJl.lIcioU$ is CClmtltuted by three sfntheses of time

wne$,.

(DR 150).

SUI: &rp:>n's mOll( notorious theory. thf.' theorv of instinct in C1'IiJJ.tvt Evolwitm, whkb h~ a more compfu:ared rel:atiomhip ~m the ronc~ of the uncon$Clow. In 1953 Deleuze published a V
w

the appeanmce olTtnbergen'$landmark book TM Sttuly ufbutina. DeleUU'1I

volume conI:3in.! no ref~ to the ethology of Tllltx:rgen Of" Lorenz.. In fur, lhere ill noteYen an nt:I'3Ct from Deleuu's favourite ethologi5t.Jakob \100 UexkiilI. t Instead. the rollettion is h3un~ by the 'dairvo}-ant' or'~ bu&t- drwry ofinlltlnct, which h:t.1 a long tra.ditkln behind it (as the e:lUnrn in tht- 1IQlumc show), and l\lIidl !IUmS to climax in B.ergson's reworl:.i.ng Q£ it in Cmli.ve ~ (1907). The lint exmu:t on tb~ theme ofinsrinct is from Qmer, f<.w" whom the instinctive animal it> 'a, ~ies of sonmambu.1i8f who ~ 'a sort of dream Of ""'ion' (I Ii: I~ It<). Other cital:icau from Scbopell" hauer,Jean-Henri Fabre and Iloergsol1 !.akf up and pursue funhe-r thi.$ model

of instinct. The problem of msQnC'.1 ii presented through a lleri~~ of t.l!':Xt$ tiD eTltoInQ\Qgy, which illwtrate the baule berween Darwinmn$ and disciples of faMe. whom. Deleuz:e describes a:s '~Anu-DlU"Win' (ibid.: 82). [)e}.,uze's selection seems intended to show that the ~mnambulistmodelllot only predated "l>al"winian conception of instinct, bUt ako t>~d it. In 1859, Dal"Win mggt>'sted thai imtin~[ should be un~fSt.QI;ldas an evolved mechanism J.ib: any other, e¥oh.ing through '!low and gradual accurn.uIarion ofnumerom, slight. }'t!t profilable, ,,-ariatiOD!' (Darwin 1859: 256). But despire the SUCCellIl of D ~ m in other areas. $U".mgely his explanation <>f instinct met with only qualified aceepcmce. AL the beginning of !.he twentieth century. the notion of imti:na be-came a toud~.I:O.ne for debatelO about the range or t.h.tt theory of evolution in the !are niN!1eenth t:enl:U.rY. Bergson's complaint against Darwin in C,eaUv4 Ewl14t.on W3tl conantrlil.rCd SJ"ound the que:mon 0( imtin<:t. ffu main problem was thu: if lnstineu invoWe very compl~, irate~ pbysioJogicalll.eCJucnces of llWenlS. then how can they ev<>1vt" gnulually? Berpon felt entitled to I"e'Y!Ye the ~mnambul:i$t 100dei ~ ~arlier by Q:Mer, Scbopenbauer and Fabre, claiming ;against Darwin that Wtlna must invok-e mOTe than a ~ of ID()tQr mecllanisms and must. be taken a:. a kind of knowledge. impIying:it peeuJiar kind of mentality. Just as the $Otlma.m.bulist is perfectly ConsclOUll of wIItft they are doing, but is W1oonsdous of wkJ they are doing i .... instinctual activity .im'otves a kind of consciousness wbkb is inreIJ.ec· tually unawa.rl.' of its purpo8l.'. A whole lI(:hool of 'in.5ti:nct·theorists' abo appeared in the F.ngJilllwpeaking world from the late 1890s 00 1~ - {or WCU:KC, Conwy Uoyd Morgan, W, H. It. Rivent and Wtl1iam McOovgaU, and akhoogh only some of them ~ cxpUcl1:.ly sympathetic to Berpm, all aJ.$() ~ that instinct Hsould be ccived on the model of knowledge.1> In h'is 1917 mT\o'f'Y of dine \':rends and their pltilmlOphica.t origi.n$, Imti.nct in Man. James DreveT notes the sim:ilariry bet.weeP Berg$<m's idea ofwMcllUld the hr]Xlthem put Jbnfard by Eduard von ~ in has Ph~ of tiM L~ (1869) that inmlJl:t iii mani" fes~d through arypeaf'dairwyaminruition' (D-rever 1917: 101.66). Ddeuze does not refe-r 00 the Briti8b iMtinct-theori.stll, but it is thii general intdJectuaI milieu that he inhabit6 in I~ tmdJ1LStit.utimu. On three .eparate OCQSions, :Be.rp>n '$ $OI'Mamhutistic in&tinct theory is given a prune ~tioD in the de~. But BetgSQn's theory of 'i.nsrinCb.sal $)'Jnpatby' - whose privileged example is that of the- wup whiclt para.tylles the caterpillar in order to provide iu .Iar¥ae wim 3 livipg larder - is probabty the D\O/it bizarre element in Berpm'$ philosophy. Reviewing We contribuooNl of Fabre and BetgllOn in his .>t~ D/MifU!., ~ Russell remarked on hO\llO' 'laYe of the marvellow may mislf!ad even :>0 ~ an observer as Fabre and 50 eminent a philOM:>ph...r :itS Bergson' (.R.uMclJ 1921: 56)• .From 1920 onw:m:Js, a vebemern reaction fb.red up agIUn~ the throreUcai e.xce!l$($ of contemporary i.r-t.3timt theorv, and bt:h<mQl,.I..ri.ml made an .aggregi.ve attempt to reduce all wflUnca 10 refl~oS The instinct-theorists were smftly forgotten• .and if Bergson '$ theory ~ ~ It was only due to the accident of hafing been propoeed by a great philosopher,

me

,on

Deleuze and the Unwnsciou.s

The Somnambulist Theury of Instinct

whose work. was preserved for other reasons (the same was DUe for Schopenhauer's theory). It is wually held that the concept of instinct only beeatne acceplable again as a result of the emergence of Lorenz's and Tinbergen's erhology in the 19509. Both ethologists stressed the compatibility of their rheories with Darwinism. Deleuze's lmtinds and Institutitms pr
somnambulist theory of instinct appears to have profoundly preoccupied Deleuze during what he describes as an 'eight-year hole' in his life, from 195:3 to 1961, when he published very little. 7

52

19M: 6). In his 1'JI.eomicaJ BiologJ, Uexkiill makes clear his debt to Kant, and explicitly focuses on the question of how the world appta'rS to die animal (UexkJ.ill 1926). The later ethologists rejected Uexkiill's emphasis on subjectivity. Tinbergen took. Uexklill's earlier critique of anthropomorphic terminology one step further by stating the methodological principle that 'because subjective phenomena cannot be observed objectively in animals, it is idle either to claim or to deny their existence' (Tinbergen 1951: 4). imhergen and Lorenz object against Uexbill that it is quite possible to conceive of a selective lJmweIJ carved out of the wider envirorunent without malting reference to subjectivity. The tick's behaviour, for instance, can be seen as a sequence of evolved subroutines in the service of its reproductive function. At. is well mown, in A 'Thou.stmd l'laJeaw and 'Spinoza and Us' in spmeea.' PmctiaJl P1likJsop/ry, Deleuze appeals to SpinOla'S psychophysical paral1elism in order to defend UexllU1li.an ethology from this charge (Ansell Pearson 1999: 179). But his approach to animal subjectivity in his early writings appean to be rooted in a preference for Bergsonian instinct theory. If we take into consideration the importance ascribed to Bergson's theory of instinct in Instincts and Inslitutiims and in other places in his work, then it becomes clear just how unonhodox Deleuu's approach to ethology was. Uexkilll certainly would have baulked at some of Bergson's inferences about animal subjectivity. But the

Be~n

53

and the Theory of Instinct

Deleu:ze begins his chapter on instinct in Iwtinct and Institutions with a quote from Cuvier. 'One can only get a clear idea of instinct by admitting that animals have innate and constant images or sensations in their sensorium, which determine them to act, just as ordinary and accidental sensations determine them. It is always a sort of dream or vision which they pursue; in everything that has to do with instinct. one should see them as a species of somnambulist' (I Be I: 18). The ensuing extract from Fabre does not take up this theoretical anal}'Jis, but does seem to be intended to illustrate it. Fabre gives a description of one of the most disturbing behaviours found in the order of hymenopter.l., the paralysing attacks of the A1m1U1J>hila Hinula wasp_ Although Deleuze cites a nwnber of texts from Fabre in Instincts and Institutions, it is likely that he selected the description of the Ammoj)hiJa because Bergson also refers to it in his pages on instinct in CirrLaive Evolutiofl (Bergson 1907: 172--4). Solitary nest-building wasps had been the focw of debate about instinct at the end of the nineteenth century. The solitary character of the wasps clearly precludes the learning of nest-building or hunting behaviours. The AmflW/Jhilo wasp hunts caterpillars, sometimes weighing fifteen times as much as itself, as food for its lanae. The lanae do not accept corpses, however, so the wasp paralyses its prey and presents it to them inunobile and alive. Fabre describes how the wasp, in a series of swift and precise operations, puts the main locomotor centres of the caterpillar out of action. What is astonishing about the paralysing wasps, he says, is that they specifically target the motor ganglia, as ifthej /mew that stinging other ganglia might cause death and therefore putrefaction. The AmmtJ1fJhIlo. stings no less than nine of the locomotor centres of the caterpillar, just sufficient to immobilize it. It then squeezes the head of the caterpillar with its mandibles, again with enough force to cause paralysis but not death. .After the attack. is over, the Ammophi14 grabs the caterpillar by the throat, dragging it back. to its shaft in the eanh. At.tride the par.al. ysed segments of the caterpillar, the newly hatched grub now has continual access to a larder of food which is preserved from putrefaction because it is slill alive. During the whole oper.ltion, says Fabre, die wasp proceeds with 'surgical precision', as if it knew intimately the facts of her victim's complex nervoussystem (I &:1: 19; Fabre 1920: 38--(0). It was this kind ofcomplex, integrated behaviour that persuaded Fabre to affirm the fixity of species, against DanYinism. Fabre's wasp and caterpillar provide the set piece of Bergson's account of instinct in CnJtI#w Evolution. In tum, Deleuze's and Guattari's fascination with the 'a-panillel evolution' of the wasp and the orchid is pre-dated by De1euze's earlier fascination with the funereal dance of the wasp and caterpillar in Fabre

55 and Bergson. What is happening here, says Bergson (moving far beyond Fabfoe'~ obsen'lUions). is. :an example of a divinatorv sympathJ that flows throughout nature. In ita rime and after:, this suggestion caused cOAAI5wn to ewlry-one (JankeMviteh 1959: 152). Wbat sympathy! How does Bergson arnve at such a fantaStical hyporhC$l$, so radically opposed to I;Urrent mains.tream views of i.n.sW1cruaJ be baviOW' thaI .it ill hard to imagin~ now that anyon~ <:oulcl have taken it $erWusJy? The probJern of the anachroniim of Deleuze's remm tll Bergson'& theory of instinct is dwarfed by the uncenain rone of hIX'U1l ~ implied by 8eIp:m'$ proposal. ,,'rust ;tIe the rules that gO\Jetll thu obKure region of thought? BerpoD begins by approacbing instinct thmugh aconaast with i.tltclligence ~ the (
When we mechanically perlorm an tuabitual action, when the- fiOIIlnambuI.ist automatically aces his dre:un, un<:OIISciousncss may be abroltue; but this is merety due to the bCl that the representation of the act is b~ld in check by ~ perfomtant:e of the ac t itself, ",hich resemblefl dw: &
accomplishment of tht' act is arrested or thwarted by an obstacle,
S6

57

me

Thii pure consciownea appears .0 be identical. to what Berp:m aills 'intuition' .Is instinct the roott 'invoh.luid' (I)rm ofintu.ition, as Bergson ternh 110 say in h. ~ th«>l!ophical momentt., or ill inmitinn ra.ther the most 'e~' form of m.mt;:t? Thii question will be ~ed in the fl)llowinS section. For tOO mom~t. 'We should jUlt nooe that:l\e1pon be~t intuition to be the Conn of ~ approp~ to inJtiIIet. Imtinct ~ a llilUation 'from within, quite OOlerwUIe than by a proce. ofkoowledge - by an intuition lliwd rather than ~ . (ibid: 175). Irudncu are 1dl nuher than f.4t:N(iht' (172), It. insdnauallU:ttmy r.heIe is no distanee be~ aa and i&a.. IrutinctuaJ intuition even appean to be a kind of 'adequate ma', in Much the .l(:t ~ct:ly oorrelpOnds 110 a ~ idea, or '.fu16b' the idea.. Bergson II ~or£ aware': that tm.'l intuitive ~ of inmnct Cannot be thought ;as 'unrotl8CIDW!:' in the sente of 'tepreued ulog'etber from Cllnsctoumesil'. If thc:re is no w.rlIlciott:meS$ at all in u'llul:t1on, then would be ab6urd to talk of an 'adequacy 01' act In idea', Haw can an idea be adeqllllte if it is absoJwely uncOJUcim.fU The intuitive a&pect of irlstmct is impalllible to d.lvoree from .JOftk

eti~ns'. first syntheses of ctlIllloCioul!nel'&, but in a field of ~<:18 which is not yet ne<:e:narily b1.ll'Dlm. :Bc:tJ.lIon'. tMory points U$ ~ an Insti.nctual collM:ioumelll! native to aninl:lll life in general, and which nay,

under S()mc modified fonn. a1lIo distribute itiIelt in human .:ollectivitiet.

The Somnambl.l.&t Theory of the Unconscious Noting the increasing popuJarity of the psychology of the UD(~ at the dtt ~ the Kantian f.lSYCboklgiat. Wllbebn Wundllaundwl an attack on the nolion, which h~ pointedly ~d wilh n1"f5tiCIlma and the 'Schelling school' (Wundt 1908-11: In. 636). In hill ~ tJ/ ~ he ronttnded thar:

fin

.t

4(lft.

of consciOU$nesi.

In 1m dt'fence of Berpon'& theory of instinct, 'Berpm et la Sphex Ammophile'. ~nd Ruyu arguet that Bergion's error In this ~ is 110 'lI1llU ·consciousneB4" rhc s,1'K.m}'tf1 of~bWion'" (~r 1959: In),}li Wben be claitM that imdnct invotves a 'mppu(tSion' of crmtdoullnClll. be ltIUi!lt mean mark invowes a mppression of oonll(:iom ~~ or int.cligent ~ ) with its efforn of attmtion and appeal to conceptual norttlll. He -Y' darly that 'although instinct is not within the domain of intelligence, it Is nQl situated beyond the limits olll:lind' (Bergson 190': 175), but in the crudai ~ in question, it is made lev than deat that be fj talking about the repre!Jllion of intelligent eO%1llCiousoeu. But th•.le the OW'll wav of making ~ of his position. lmtinct tl'l:U$t not be thoopt of as 'a~lv' unconscious in the maIlllet" of the fiIlllng stone (for then it ~ not be int~ llive). but rather all UIlCOl'ISciooa ~ to intelligen<:e. But far from being un~. in!tincr in that case might tum out to be ~ COI1k"~ imJofar all it 1m'OWes. the adequaq<J! act tn idea. Berpon'f IDlilinetion ~ two ~ of ~ !hot,l.\d have been augmetl.tc:d. with a disdnmon between tWO f:ypet {or perhaps: poles) of c~. 'What may be uneonsciOUll 10 empirical, :represe-nQrlonal ~eu, ~ be intemety e(lOo llci.ouIl to :lnmncwal consdouaneu. 1l '\o\i.th this in mind, we might be ~ to make ~ of a pecuIiat ~nt in ~ 4NI ~ where DeJew:e bhmdy invem the FM.Id.ian notion that the ~onscious (lIkIng..m.h the ~ and oomp~ repetitiom it produces.) b a result of~. 'I do ~ repeat because J rep...." but 'I ~ ~ I repeat, I forget ~ 1 repeat- I I't:preII,. because I c.ul. 1M: certain tltinga or eenain txperlencu only in the mode of repetltion. I am determined to repmlS wb~ wunId ~, me from lliIing them thus: in particular, the tepfeileDtatron 'lltbich ~ the lived by relating it to the form of a similar or i....tkaJ (DR 18). lnstinm would be the fim 'rep-

r I

I

any psychkaJ. element that tw. ~ from consciousness lJ to ~ called unc.amcious in me Ilense that 1ft" aamme t.he poIlflibiJity of its renewal. that 1$, its reappearance in me acwal inW'CODnection of -p;.ycbh:al p~ Our knowledge of an element that hu be<:ome unt:omdom does nOt exund beyond the pombiIily ~ lis renewal ... .A.uumpthmt as to ~ .-e of the 'uncon5ci.ous' or a& to 'utU:OWlCious PI'OCe!IfIe!l' of any kind ... are entirely unproductive fur P'YChology. (\Yundt 1896: 22'1-8j

In later; twentieth-eentury editions oems rD:gor ~ the

~ dIr ~ ~ ~ (.PrI~ tJ/ 11rJ~ ~ 60t published m 1874). ~d£ illII5eI't6 thlU 'fur hypothetical uoroJ'llldous pro«s&es we could mbstimte acwalJy de.rnOOllmible or at any ~ ICIlI hypmhet:ical con&ciOUl processes' rwundt 1908-11, IfI.nO).l!

For Freud and 8eIgIoo aiile the problem 01 me uncoJ1KiouIl dDe$ indeed corn:ern tb~ llUbsistA!:nce of uooonscious ~ $tlltell. The idea that there- are physioloGical movements wbidi are beneath tilt: threshold of OOJ:UIcioUl perception is entirely WlCon~ and Wwult bUrnleI' wrOte in gyca.t detail about loweT-ordu' physiological pnxes.te. in the brain. We -are uUlxwcious of ~n. the nlO¥eme!llS of autonOlUO\L\ nervous ll')"lItem and the dn:ulation of the blood. ~ idea that there l& an lJtlC~ ~ raitIes m»joI' philveophical peqll£~ How do l.lnCOrllICloW statea.ubsist before and . . . they are WIlSCious? If they fina1iy come to OOUIClowmelllO, dDetI thlIIl mean there ito no longer an unooWlciowl? How doelI the ego .~. them, in order EO ~ them out of ~ ~ (Sattre's problem otlhe 'centO£')~ What i$ the ~ of the dynamk reblion between. conJCi.oUm~ and the WlCOrlIICiowI? M'at'.ry phiIo!ophkal proponents of the unoonJcious today are still ~ to Wundt's Katit.ia.n ¥tion of the nol:IDn of the Ull£tln.scioul, We will :teronl In it in chapter 3. where we di!Jc:uaJUDB'. rc:apoD!le to iL Wundt'a poRtion reJIl.'iIin4 powerful in a pt-JIollophB:al climate split by the dualism between natura1l.Irlc and normadve approaches to the mind. AngIo-Amerian philoeophital defendl!n of Freud ~me Wundt', o~ection by UJUing thai. unconscloUl menW1t.af.ell amnot be reduced to pb.,.,iologicallmte!l precisely

me

58 be~U$¢ they d.;l make implicit appeal (0

The Somnambulist TluJary ofInstinct

me l10rmative ;:onditiom of ~ m c.:n.en

beti~f:and dC~T¢ (Hnpk.im 1982: xvil-xx; 1993: 31-3). Freud mJks of uncon6cl<ms ~ and ro have :a wish or a delrire ill an intentional stair, which

in turn requirt"S ~ ha\1ng ofbel~saboutthe desirltd o~t (Gardner 199]). All this Is 1ibf'IIMSWe and <:annot be reduced to the na1Ul'alilltic order of phvsiology, Defending Freud from such a reduction, David Buller diRingWlihe~ a

properly 'pef5()nal un(:onKlQus' from these 'iU~penon.al unconscious prou::iUIe'!l' which are'~ 'inferentially isolated' from the sortlJ ofinformad£Jn that figure ja the cootents of the conscious moU\IeS .and beliefs of personal psychology' (Buller 1999: 10)). It is .mbd~astic pr~ thar are ul\Iolved in the estimation of depth from binocular vWon, or in paning senteO';:e$ of our mother tongue. lSuIler suggests that the kind of lIUOCon.sdi:nJs 'homuncular' mechanisms identified by D3nie1 Dennett in his book c.,. .tciounus.l ~PW1are generally of this type. Uncomcious~. on the omer band, are not 'inferentially isolated', but are re~d ~lf-di:ceptiYely pttctsetv because of the ~ they carry, and the meaningful implit:atiom with which they are bound. Bergson would agree that the infant's instinct to mek. (for instance) is not uru,;onsdou8 in the sense that the growing o!~ glands is un<:onlCiow. It ~ not a physiological event, bur nor is it a di.nsctous, and all pathologkaJ states are c.onsdom derivatives of thi.& radically uncon· scious WIte. But Freud's opposition miMes the distinctiLm between two kinds of consciousness: not an tol1JlCioosneu Is dominated by the function of intelligence. Models influenced by Freud ~ tbi$ £;ili.e diijunction~ either imel. Spt conscioumCM (me;ms.....end actions, concepwaJ J'ep~nr.ation). or no conscioU&lre$i at all Bur. the1't~ is another o-adition of thought a.bout the lJ1Konf<;iow: the 'somnambulist' lradition, fi:Jr whkh it was the tWs~ of conscioumesswhich was lht! prim;lt)' dinied tXt, lhe lIOmnambulillt Jno
59

sertation in medicine at the University of Vienna, which was devoted to the influence of the moon and planet!! on pathological proce&~. 'The sun and moon not only raised the tides of the lieU on the earth, but ah<;t l;:oot:ributed to 'alWO$pheric tides', wbich in tum have an effect on the 'humo~' of the bod\" He men w !:be monthly 'tide&' of ~nstmation,After graduating and en~ring private practK«:. Mesmer enoounum~d ,.<1 young woman who had been suffering from dcliriwn, mani.a. convulsions, fainting and mysterious aches and pams.. Miss Oesterline agreed to subject heI1lelf to Mesmer's experiments in ~pp~ng m.agpetir f(lf'<:e t(l p~e: 'artificia.l tides' in her body, compentating rot ber disequiJibrium wllh r.he- natI.I.ral cosmic tides. After experiencing tome burning palm. ~r decided that he must have engineered a magt1tdc influence. Bu( then for some re3S0n he $W"ted to magnetize .material objet:f3 tucll a5 bread or ll£Oncs, and found wt these mbstanCe1i prodll~d the same .effect, Mesmer 9lo'a1l trnly hamed, Then it da"'ned upon hJJ'n: r.he magneusrn was .emanating from him, There Wll.S mch a thing all 'an.iD'W magnetism:. ",,'bien went quire beyond mere mineral magnetism. whkh did not affect ncrvot.&ll tissues. Besides Bergson and Schopenhauer. other th.in.kers important ro DcJeuu: but not cited in In:nfnt:t5 tmd Ifllslitulw1u 4bo bad " deep in~ In llOmnambulism, both nattl.f31 and anificial. Sch~Uing W3$ ~ by 'clair\Ioryance' (m aara and the Stur1gtm~, fl)r instance) • .mile in 1817 rIle ~rioU$J0h3nn:Malfauiwas sent by the Viennese murt 10 ~ :animal ~ in the dink of K. C. Wo1£m, a follmRr Qf Mt'3mer who had 5tet. up a sta.t:e-5Ub5idized dinic in Berlin fur the magnetic treatment of !he poor {Ga:uld 1992: 89tU In hinmdy ofJung'lI n:latiunship to Plene Janet, John lhule suggests that the main foci of inrerm in tate: Il.ineteenth-cenmry Pfl)'Chology - hypnosm, hysteria and spi.ril:ualiml- 'are all variant3 'fJf sommambulism', which refers to 'mty complex: act perfOrmed while asleep. in tnmce, 01' in some other "altered Mare of COIl5ciowIness"" (Haul,=, 19St: 245). The price of Freud's molar oppooirion bet:ween comci.ousn$ and the Wt~OIlKioUf waf the lo&s of derna.n.:ations bef.ween dUfeTent ki.nds of $f<*$ fJ/~. Th~ role of d~tiou in the fragmentatioo oC pel:l(JlUl idenlity, ;U "''en the spatio-tl::mpol"al distortions ofboth srhJ:ophren~ and neurosa, were KOtOmi:zed by Freudian th~ries of the wu::omcioua.1• In France Janet had a.tternpttd to srnthem.e the popubr u-adition of thought about 5Omnambul.iMn with academtc psychology, Continuing the emphasis on apperception and .Sfl\the!lis in the tradition of Xantian psychology represented by Wundt,Janer had gone on to differentiate appcroeptive 01' syru:hetk comciowmess from other non-rept'~nmional~ of cowc~ ness found in cases of dissociation. For Janet. the by,surk u- ~ during her state of dissociation; the problem is that she cannot recall U. ~. and therefore
61

60 Gf it ~'l (until, perilaps. the next somnambu:lisUc episode), For Jung, in turn, the encounter 'l\-iih an archetype will 1rl'lIoive
whICh «~ ~ide Q{ representalional consciOUim~llI, but still ~ a kind of ~U&'leS!ll. In elACh of these caIOe5, there is no 'MQlar' oppoilrtllJn ~ n ,~mneM and the (Jncon~. H a diiSociative ltate is subRquendy denied or furgotten by the eg6, that doe! Qot mean that It had not been fi.dty c~ while it W"Ml happening. Di!!IIOCilued, tomnambullllt:k consciousness is tr.lnCfltike, ~i»tltd cOlUdO\l$~li6, and henee of a different nature to ordiIlluy, repr~nl:lUiana1 conM:ioumess, wtili:h mwWves 4;ognt· live synches15, Orgaam and frenzy arc cenmtl &ires of single-minded imtincmaJ comciousn~in bUrmul culture, and ~ of dWociation ha'll'e the same form B3them, But l£ $Omnambulillt! are (';on.c1O'UJ,. Wen of what a.re they unconscious? Janet agreed widt Charcot that somnambulism and hylIted:1 share a lad of awarentiS of the po1"p05e of the :action, a dillsodatkm from the rest of the mental field (110 that the palient cannot remember the fWe clearly), and the trait tha1subconlCiOll5 fixed idea.'! O\'erwhdm or tlke 0'lIe:r th~ patient':J con~ sc:ioU$tltllll duringll crisis. I;reud. anotheT student of Charcot. decided to diaoount I:he last aspect of the phenomenon.Janet and other Fnmch Jl'IYChol,. ogilJa insisted t1w the patimt amnot in~ thilll\lOmnambulisdc ~ trim the rest of thdr con.«<;iousness lJt.unLJe it Is 1tll) ~nded, and ~rdQTe not awillahIe 1m: srnthesi:o under general wncepta.lli Schopenhauet' aDd &rgson att.em~ to appty the mmnamhulistk model of the uneonscioull to the problem of ~fn.tintt. Sixty ~ before Bergson, SchopenhaUCt" had ;argued at length mIn it b not jUat fJlfYChopathology tfult ~ Ca5CS of~, but that one mUll attribute: it mon= funda.. mr:ntally to instinct ilMlt. Inttirlet iii important for Schopenhauer all it B 1be ezacr. analogue of blffld rDt1I, iNola.r U it is both uncontrolled by the ego, and yet romciou3 (juit all Milton was beth b.Iind and consaoUS).16 In the chapter of ~ ~ m WitlaM ~ ~ devoted I'i) instmct, &hopenhau~r'Wrore

that .~ are to a umUn extent namral somnambu.li5!ll'. mu::~ 'the JWt)lpathetic nene hal taken Q~ the diretUon of the mttemal ~ u wdl'(II. 344:). Howeo¥er, for Schopenb~. the u.~ of instinct spa:~ CODCern& the UIJ:OOtlik,"it~of ~or purpolles. When 'the apidel' tech :t3 if It hall ~ spin its web, although tt neither knQM nor undent.ands im purpose' rn, !44), this ie ~ tQ the llOnmambulist who cat'lie1! ooi at:tions dm~ by a ~I!t without knowing why, JWIl becal.1$e the spider is 'Wlc:omlciOll! of the end of iu acUOln does not mean that it cannot be CODil(:iouII of the itimuli whidl triger Ole instinct. 01', in the form of an aJermel$ OT adaptability. ofa DH:ani to the aim. The lI()mruu:nbulist b conscious of the 'Nbjectiv'e represeowionB which srimulate the desire' (Ii, 541), but not of tIle t':rld of the t::Ie$lre. In a a:rtatn !#:1lSe, that mak.ea instincwaI behaviour mom >~ea±ve' - in the llense of'interior' or hermetically endo!led - than intelligem ~C$$, ~ find in the C'.3llle of those ani.m:als f1w; are ~ ~ed by instinct, espedally of ~, Ii preponderance at dlIe ~oonk

~tem, i.e.

the ~ nervoU$ ~tem, over the ~ or cuebra1 ~m'

{ihid.).11 The consdowm~ involved in in!.tinct " 'su.bJeo:ive' be~ of i€ll partiality, Animals therefore ~ a highly '~ecdve' consc:ioumeu., Uuofar as Ibdr attention is ~ ~ by tbcir imdncts; all inrellipnce and habit 15 subor~d to th4! £ol1Sllllllll4'\don nfinmncL In one 3er.l!e. though, Bergson's view is the opposi((! to SChopenhauet"s, as he says not only that instincrual conK1oumea must ~ inteUigent CODsciousneu. but that insWu:t. ~ :l kind of ~ofaa to mll. Wtth this notion of inltirK~ 'adequacy' BeI:JllOIl ls col'lJcio\dty barting blw:k to the model of
The Wasp's Sympathy for the Caterpillar The argumem proceeds, perhaps :already fatally, Via lUl analogy with memory. 'Ls h not plain th:n life 80eI to work here euct1}' like consctoU5lJCSIS, exactly li.ke 1lliml000' (Bergson 1907: 167)? Consider buman memory; 'we trail bdtind us, UDlIWlUeI, the wbole of our pa&l; but OW' memory poun mm the preKlit only tht: odd r«01kction ~ two that in lOme way complete our present situation' (ibid.). WI.(h instinaive knowledge, it is the same: 'It L'l imtx*ih1e to conlli~r lIO.lfle of me special ituUnctll of the animal and 01 the plant, evidently ar1llen in ell:l:I'".aOI'dinary clrCUJl'lStiUlces, ~ ~ . . Jtt 1JJlIu 1fIColltctimu, ~ ~ UIIUt;A ~ V/J ~ under tIt4".,.. of an ~ nM4 (ibid,; iLalli:: added). There is thus an 'inner history' of nature, a petllpCdive of 'lWUce from within', which parallels the i.1winctual patterns; of~.The b1ll'ldiOflter3n seems to bave ltOme IlOl't of 'organic memory' (.19), whereby it am r~. in tht' form of an image, another i~bted pbyletic line. Under it '~ofu.rgem need', budnet can regre!lfl to a tommotl arthropodk form, shared vt.idt m. pot.ential 'ricdm, and intuit the arwomioJ location Df the laaL'r'fI motor pngia. If the AmfllDfJAilt.l know'!! bow to isolate the appropriate gaqglJa in it$ Yidim, that i3 be(aUle It am somehow 'idencify' with itll victim. Admittedly, h. 'd~ms but a very little 01 that force. ~ what CWlCcrllS iUlelf; but at leatlt it &seems it from wixhin, quite otherwise than by a process of kn~F - by an intuition (liwd ~ dum ~ , whim i6 probabiy like what·we call dmning sympamy' (ibid.: 115). We must 'suppose a $)~ On the etymOlogica1l1e'llJe of the word) betwl:en the A ~ and its Dctim, whidt teaches it from within, liO to say, <'bl'KemiDg the vulnerability of the:' ~rpillar. This feeling of 1IUl.nerab'ility mighl 0'/lI!: nothing 10 oulWlU'd perception, but l"t':5ult from the mere pretence mgether of the ~ and the carerpillar, J;(;nooered no Iolt~ ~ ~ organimls, but as l:wO lU:tivirles. It would expreu, in a COOCrete form. the ~ or the one m tht: Qw.er' (Be.rpon 1901: t7!-4). ~ it a not jWlt that a pure mtuitive c;o115cioumeu is attributable to all of

62

m.:

te lire. With Bergson's thtmy of inmrKt, ~ enter int<> an .rnati~ (Of. precisely, pamll!!)} universe. It isruled by the order of the Hymenoptera. Like' \luJmUl beh~, some ~iles of bymenoprera are IlOrial. but $Orne art" . , solitary. Th~ ~ ba'-<e Q.eveloped a ~e form of cQt11fTIW~K:ati()n, no< with othef'$ of dleir own l!pecies, but with other spociei in the arthropod k1ngdom. ~ like t1lf: A~are able 1:0 diMem me ebn vital 'from within, .. bran innntWn (tiv#dratber ihlUl repro~' (175). They-commu· nicate by recollecting. in the moment of 'urgent n~', ilPpeallng ro their extremely ~ful intuition. the1£' phylogenetic communitY with their pl'e\~ 1"his ~nt U not governed by the la."''ll of ph~(S, but depends ()1l an 'orgam~ memMY' ofwe phvlogenedc pll'(. We ~m ro be in 3. uruvene Utterly unlike our own, willch recQgni.ze$no known physical Qr moral laws, where the wasp wid the CiIll.trp111ar stage' 2 weird and c:rmll'i~t3Clf:, in which one enter, into 'sympathy" with the oilier and th~n ptOl;te& to tQnure them.llergson talks of in5Un(:t d!I a 'm_al them¢'. but 'it 18 obviowly diffiroh to epvi.s3ge the aeru· ality s ida cert:ainIy reqWI!lI fewer aaumptiotl5: hutinct ii an evolved mecbanifm for sele(:ting certain patterns in tbt enviro!i, ment, which • 15e!'Ve 3$ a ~r for the release of a J~ ~rn ()/

oehavioUf.

Ruyer's Defence of Bergson's Theory of Jm1inct But pel'bap5 the~ lU'e oth« waY' of e'lrplain.lnl Betg8(ll1'S theory. One d lbymotld Ruyf'fs aimt in his an:icIe on ~'s ;;beory of instinct ('8efpon «if: Spun Ammop~'. 1959) is m .bow that ~ theory is oomp:atible 'WWt
.-.m

anatomy. or the ph~. the rep.rod~oq;ant of tht: man and \be womatl'. E..-ecyiliing bappesu M if the hll.l1W1 \lIIho iniWite8 sex knew in advance what to do, Without havi"f l~lll'Iied it (Ruyer l~ 166), The acnlaliz:atioo of (he ~ institlct, lnerefQR, 1$ a perfett cDmple of a }i,'ld of C'olOCiousl'1eSS whkh is dif· fefetu in land to intelligent oowdomness, md in which 'reprelICIltaJioa i~ swpped up by li£6on' Sesuai C~IS involvn the ·~uppressioo.' of represetllauOI1lU coIl.llciQusneu, and ,.an thUl be deocribed as ;onmambuli,ltk 1. Ruy-er daims tD:ar me 'decisi:Ye argumem' ~ il purely mechankal ...i.ew of iNrl'lc;t isfu.m.idled, '';IS Bergson had see» perfectly' by 'the equivalence' het.ween inltinct and orpnillaOOl1' {In). Why llhouki ..hi:! be? Berp:m's wg. g-adon tbau m~tUu:t is ::. l:'onrin:uation of orplll1.:ui1:m seems, uf ~, quite neuttal about Wbat kino of p}umomenon innina is. In50m:t can be said to C'A)Rtinl1e th!' work ()/ otp'li.tarlon in pt the same ~ all an3.lOlY1ical smK'rut'... LOI1tmu~

th,. work uf the

~n<':S,

But mil; Is an a~~traCt view, In fact, what

is it to:say that mstinet is eM ,:onrlnuation of orpniwion other than to ll8V thllt arunnctli Come into being through dIe process of ~ in other words. if we Me to w'lIkl:llUlnd imrl"lct, then we mlJ$t undenomd it as a funn onrogenw. The key tD the 'competence' Or 'virtual power' eshlbhed in instinct I~ In embryogel\~si3, Ruyer notts that embry~ apptal to the

or

notiomof'capaelty', 'competencc', 'YirtuaI power' and 'potl:ntiafity', Wbelher one Liles tl Qr nrn:. he llll.~, these ~m'lS do rIot mean anydling if mer do not imply lOme sort of knowledge, and that. fUrther, implies ~ IlOft of (;011.1Ci000lleil5. n1'u5 not: on1v IS instmc' oomciow, but 50 is the embrYo. Thlt' elllbryo hall 11 ~ power. 'The unicellUlar entity has neither h~ nor eyes. It neW!rth<"les& fomu pseudopods, a. mouth. a stumach, and it <:xcretes. An egg.. an embryo in its initial lItage, act! like uniCellular entlty, Ir defortlW iuelhrim regard 1.0 its overall form' (Rufer 1988: 25). Ruyer I'mIb:s much .. petb.,. tQO I1lU1:h - of the self-o:rganwng propen.ie:& ()f the embryo. Even before Berpon's CmJtiw ~ the fotU$ of ~dc bi(OOgy had sh~ to embryology with HaM D~h's ~t'imetlt\l in the 18'90s, wMcb sugg~ that the embf}'O had allODi$hing seU:.organizing propertiel, It WiIlb discO'l'ered that it i$ pos.-.ible to rran:;plant p~ of an embryo and graft it Ollfn .. simibtt' embryo, where it will bt- lmlMpO>-<1wi into iUl ~pmenL The embryonic e~ can undergo d.ra&W: ~al in~An"e and yet um r«owr fully. DrletlCb ~ ~ if one ~ out me ~ two~t.amncelk of the egg of a sea Ul'clUn. each WDUId develop into <:omplete 1.aJ:vae. albeit in dwamd form. ~ ~U!d tha ~ ~~ no ~ spedat regions in the egg that gMt rise' to special organs.. "The relariw- poilirion of a blastomere in the whole detmJlirles in geneml what dt:\IeIop! from it: if its pniiOOn be dr.mied. it giva rife ll) something diffetent. In othex WQtdls. its prO!lpec;tive value u a function ofi15 ~lion' (quoted in WdaoI119!5~ 1056). Dries!:h's em~ 00 the prim.xy of llpati«cmparal relatiotu in emb~ elJis, ali weU WI h~ oblern.tiQll:$ of the embryo's appa.tl:'nt ability to ''imPt~' un~ the conditions of tr'amplantWon are both fU1\dlQN':nw fbf' ~(, '£bit seH'-orp,nUing powelll of the embryo rnabe it trnpt»llible not to attribute rome

a

65

64 furm at llU~ectiviry to it, It it a fundamental ~, be saylI, to ted~e developmen1 to the tmfolding of a gcnetk programme. Ob!lef1le the embryo when it i.s disp1lv:oo to another ~tting by tmrltlptannuion. Wh~ it contin~ imper· turbably the work. it has begun. do not tbmlr: thai T.hill. indicat.es it lI. a mere robot.: It !eem.'\ uncon-lciow or 'dilltracb:!d' in II: tallk become :abl..urd ~ly beca~ it is intensely oomclous af tl,i.$ t:a.tlk.. It 'fin~' with ardour it appean to be a robot. A prodlgioU5 cak:uJaw. ~t re;em~ an elec·

men

mat

tronic calculator .. Neverthele5li, it hal moved i~ to'h"Md dt~ right answer. where an adding machine simply functions ..• It Ieelns 'distraaed' because it caun¢t be dist.J:a(:ted. It seems unt:(d'lsc;ioull bean:rllIe iJ. is cOnsOO\1S of what it dDe'I and ofnofning ellle. (Ruyer 198& 21)

The embryo- has a cOll!lCioume!l!f, but it ill likt; the coDlltioUllnestl of an arrist absorbed in his work. If it ~ to have die efficiency of II: machine, which nm be lifted up and taken ~ere ebe while still c<mtinuing iii performance, that is not ~ it rea1ly is a machine, but bec.wse it is so very InlAy. 'It does not see U$ ~ it does not speak to Wi - and fur li pid reasoo. 8m neither doe& a very busy crafim:lan, II: painteT or a malhematldan who ill quite ~rbed. communicate with children who watch him or even with his own 'Wife and children' (ibid.: 25). Ruy<'r ~ that $U~ ll.n artist is 10it in his Wl)rk, but then corretts him$elf: 'not lQlit. but he identifies himself inten~lv with the very form of this work being U'3RSf'ormed by hill bands and befure l:Uii~' (ibid.). We are reminded of Bergson'! analogy of instinct'll.a1 know· ledge wifh the ca~ty of me :mist to identify with hit object (Bergson 1907: 1'17, see next se<:don) , The embryo and tM artist share the same intrnse con· tdoumeu, in which there :is no space for reflective oonsdowmClll {if NCb is poWbl~. that ill} 'because of the very adequacy of aclto id<:a. UnitA:1l in their cl~e,the embryo and the aJ'tillt Rem to be the two- poleli of pure con:\ciOU$1eM, the alpha and omega of cotisdOU$ness. 0ek:u2e agrees widl Ruyer developmentallllD'llewcnts are: •liuittJ. by the embryo' and that It . ~ and 1J,~~.md~movementll' (DR. 249; itafu: added). Embf)"OVn~u the primarrwave of3CnWiration for liring heinp, and in that respect if no other. 'the world ill, an egg' (DR 216).'~ Unlik.e Freud and his fo1lowen, he rejecu Ha.ecke!'s recapitulationimJ and affirms lite more strongly epigeneUr: theocy put forward by Von Bacr, wh6. De.leuze says, 'mowed that m embryo ~ not reproduce ana:w-al aduk fonm belonging to other species. but r~ experiences nr undergoo SWl:s and undertakes movemeou; which lIIe nOl \liable for the .'lpe~ but go beyond the limits of the lIpecK'1l, getlm. order or class, and.can be SU&iained only by the embl"W) iudf, UJKkr the (Qndidom of embryonic liU:' CUR 249). N~elew Oeleuze does not.e:x:pikWy affirm Ruyer'lI embryulogiad model of ~ behariatJr. 'The fact is that be tflu more toward$ ~n'$ position. which ~ me emtence of a virtual jpecielr. ~omcioumesi. In ~ 4M Ritp-

wt

etititm iuelf, he appeals ,0 embryology fur resources to help clarify me ~ tiotemporal variation whkh cOlUcio~ is capablC' of undergoing. 'Embrrology already ~ th~ lruth that there lIIC $'jl$temaric mal ~na.. toniol'l$ and drifts. that ordv the embryo can gWlEain: an adult would be rom apun by them. 'There :i'JJ"e ~enl3 for which one can only be a patiem. but the patient in tum can onlybe a!arvn' (OR 118). The emb~model of ~on5Cioumesi& being wed to demonstrate lhe spariotelDpOnl <:Ofl!Ittainta on coMciou&neM. The correlative in an adult of emhryo1ogia.l 'experience' ill the nigbtm:lU"e: 'A nightmare is perhaps a (l!S'FChk dymunis:m rhat could be SU$tained neither awake 'RbT el.Ilm mt.fnI.:ms, but only in profound sleep, in a dT'e8Jtlless sleep' (DR 118).

Imtincmal Consciousneas Is it possible to explaln lkrgllon's theory of instinct more minimally as a char~ acterizarion of 11 m~ of cOmOoumes& with specific spanou:mporal condi~ ti~ Perhaps thk would allow us to tum ~ the question about the heritability of insrinct. Why not take Bergson's smning point to be, as in the Eutrj OJ( W ~ Dot4 "f~> the irltlImial reladon of coosciOU&neu to dur.ttion? Let us lltart with an ~logiadpoint du.mtion cannot be articulated by the in~"nc~, and yet is mnsciotw. 1'here thus exists another cognitive faculty. inmidon, ~ intelligen(e. Intuition, Bergson clabnll, is the kind of cognition. 'We uae in nofi-intellectual aca of oon:tclOU. nCR, such as sympathy. or aesdleti<: appreciation and -creation. For in&Wlce. a fundamental feature of artistic ~ is its effun to 'get WIde' me o~ that it depict:! (8eTgllon 1907: 177). There is an 'animism' which an be found in ~ an: furms (although a Berg1on.ian would haft' to look bard to find it in oon~mporaryvillUal ut}. The artiat ant!mpti to pup 'the intention oflifl!!, the simple movement that runs through me lin.e3, that bind. them together and gives them ~ce' - in other wonk., to ~ IDe delcriptiOIlll. paints and fot'ms dlat render the WIpe ofthe thing dr;pK\ed.. He or she develops tIW power by 'placing himselfbedr. within the obje<:t by a kind of sympathy' (ibid.). Perhaps, then, u ill possible to read 8ergllon as infening from intuition II.> imotinCt in animals. In &his <::Me, he would be arguing ilOmething ~L He would be claiming. at IlIl:lM, W1 if there wm a consd.ousne6l in animl!lI&. lhen jt would not look like in~(COnsdoWl~ but intuitionait:~. If one adds In llUppOrt the arpment, in the 'Inmxluction to Metaphysk.'.s' of 1903, to the e.t'kt:t that the ~ of duration 'aIIoM one- to pal!lIl beyond kl.ealitm 1& well :.l.'I realillm, to affirm the ew.:immet! of ~ inferior and lIUperj<Jt to w, though nevenhe1ess in a cermin !le.nlIe inrerior w Ull, to m.a.k.e them ~nt without difficulty' (Berp)l1190~: 184; t:ran.s. modified). then Bergson's line of thought doer; not seem quite ilO improbable. 8erg!on's definition ofintuilion at 'irJ.uiDet that hall become disin~ self-conscious, capaNe of reflecting upon its o~t.Ct' (176) mUll tbtte£ore be reYersed to reveal its true meaning: inltinct ill. intuition become O'lIet'Whelm«l

66

67

with mterest. We do not ~ know what pure inilOll.ctual emw:ioumeu is .like. Aesthetic: OOl'l&cl~ ill nOt really 'instinctual', predse]y becawe it {;.lW

apply the intuitional :IlW
The rationalists too had lheiT 'third kind of kno",1ed~' ~yond dl-e understanding, their obscure methods of ~ : which already indicate that the intuition they have in mind is nOL exact1v 'inrelkcroal'. Moro;(wu, thdli:: tVpelI of cognition did. not dl$appear in post-Kantian modernity, it !sl'lM:ber their 5paces were mapped ~Me rlgoroWlIy" Bant, for insr.ance, ~la.ted the $pe:ci.tk power of mliol1a1ld~(PT.obl~matk.c()nt~plSwithoutseruiible wtuin()nll) :and aesthetic ldeti (intuitions withmtt empirical concepbJ, ~1lile Schelling reintroduced mythical dliJIl;;ing md even 'cl.ai.noy.lmce', Perhaps ~ (';ontlciousnell!l is the baiJ for a. higher type of conscio~ without which intelligent COnsdl'USne5$ remains ~pty~1

(115),

'I'his app1'OaCb b;u the benefit of a conception of instincmal con!lCiOWlnes~ !hat leads Ull OUt of the domain of occult biology, With the SQmnambulist model of di$SO(iation in mind, a speciclHlpecific instinctual consciousness eatI be: hypothnized, in which each $pe~ would 'fulfil it5e1f bV realizing a p~ e1tlJltmg schema in an external image. The biologiad origins of the instinct .md it« ~d:ned triggering stimuli <:wld be accounted EM in the mechankal way described by Lorenz. What would be added W<'JUld be:an In'educib1e, 'transcendental' synthem of time.~ When it is nOt occupied with rudimentarY furma of in~lligent adaptation; animal COnsciOOllle. would 'be the 'singleminded' wmcioU$l\e.u that necelllmily attends ·imDnct The animal is a. temporal being, ioiith a IICIlSe' of duration, but itt 1Crnrxmd experience is moulded by the primQtdial form ofr~ce. When II 'JigD:d {an Innate Ire-iIIS M«hani&m ((LV)) light! up in thr environment, the anil:nal knows what it ha5 to do, It u th4i $ipal which. must be folJO'M:d up and enpged with, a.ru:i no oti'Hrr, The animal who ~ to COUIUhip ~ by pairing off mon.ogammmy and the child who ~ tb t.1uIl fate are both captured by a COi\Qngc:m re~ in the emiromneIu wb)ch nm:ttbeles$ appem 04 ifit Iuu ~ lwa wai~:t« thcnl, The bearer of ~t$ D t:.ndlanred, ttamfj~:L ~ by the sign:m. whicb they con~1ar.e and which acliwre tht:i:r behaYk>w'. 'rh~ Ioepa.r:mon of inu!iligent OOI'lildOUlmeR from instinctual 000' Kioumesi ~ modificarkm of an original temporal ~ of 000' ~\oume'l5; the n:1Orf; mr.e_nt ~ pr~, the. more mmncwal ro~ would be expcrien<;ed as a 'rnpmre' in the mccelltOOn of tin.'t.e, r~ in a pri.rmu'y di'lSOC:iabon. This pnuaJ ('~ntal') fu:1d of ~ ~ <;m nn'ef be ~ pro~; but there D no reason why il: should be roJed out. ID this way WI!' {;.lW also maU !lerlIe of Berpm'i quasi-me060pbkal mgges. tion that the brain lIhould he "IIiewtd a1 a '~' for £oJ'lKiowmcss, which can be rendered more lnktligibk by di8Unguishing be~n empiricaJ. and tran. scende'nw ~ of owaty.m;. bw:in
w

How to Love the M.a:rvellom it may be that Berg90n '5 text lkef~ each of tbe:!e ~s of the 'theory of insum:t. It might appear that Ioven of the ~JIaW would be best adviKd to rdy on the last interpretarioo, but ;t is n-ore than p<*ible that D<:&e'Ul-t' would have diilalJ"eed, Cen.ain k.ey pusag~ m ~r. seem to rely .IF:avily on ~n's theory fif imUnct _ Ii ·divining sympathy' - albeit cirS;tJ,mllpectly. Duri.ns Deleuz.e·s d~QD of Bergson', ~lutioni.llm, while be i:.s 6pOunding the ~t llotiOO that ~tion involie& the a.etuaJJzation of 'l~' that £oemt m~ity, mmy of the footnok.ll refer hack to IJ.erg!on'$ reXlll Oft tnstlnc;t fa 100-4)• .Alth<mgh :inadnet. is on}y mentioned once in the main teXt ofthC!Jie pag~ (ibi,(L J(3), if. is doub~ !:hat these pages make a lot d senile withOUt some referen« to f5.erpm'! imUoa theory. Dting the ~C' where IWrpon lila}'!> that 'lif~ goet (D work like consdou$1leu :and memory' cut off from 10. latent memo~ 'save at one 01' twO polntli that are of vital l;OttCenl to the speci~jUllt anlefi'. De~ add~ a foomote mggesting (00t "theM! ptnmJ €ounpond kJ the outmnding pointli mat became detaChed 3t~h 1~1 Q1: [organic ~}. Each line of differentiarlon or acroallsation thus comtiwces il 'plan(C (plan) of na~' that ta.ke6 up again in its own way a vinu3l !lI&:tion Or level' (ibid.~ l~S). How this analogy with memorv (with its 'dominant rcrollec.tioJl$') is mpposed to work. given mat the 'mem';ry' of ev0lution is located in the gene, is mysU!rioos. If Deleuu '$ biologkal a.pt>lication of the notion of \lirtualit¥ reSt\ quiedyon an ~ n of Bergson'lI theory of lnJtin<:I, then this throws !lOme ~r today's appropriations of Deleuz.e'li 'biology of the -,irtu:d' into ~stion. Can Ofte defend the bialogkal significance of me viltual without appealing to thd notion of instirn:.1.? It remairt& the <:ase, though, that Ot'~ did not exp1iddy defend the strong intnpretalion of.Berp:m'$ mmnct theory in 'all iu glory. In ~ itself, the N!f~nt:es to lmtin<:t arc ~ to the fOQ~. In Instincts and fl'f,Stttutit.wlJ. where the thecrr nf droning 1I'¥Mpadly ii b2rder to ignore. it is presenreo wtlboul a ddenc," from Delewe himsel£, Perbapa nOI mren the 1~ Ql the man"elloUl ,oukt ~ the monc \'enIDn 01 Berg!on'5 theory, In 1961. al the end of tbt! :9Gmnambull,tk 'eigh~ ho~'

I

68 iI'l hill life, Deleure pubfulhed what 'IJIIla to be hiB fl.n;U reO«tion on the notion of 1mtinct.. outside of the theory ot the 'death imtinct' in DifJmma and &:pmIfm1; his Jungian f1mta1>la 'From $a(:her~Muoch to MDxhhim', De&am:'1 rdle<:dons on i.rlstim:t j~ to another !oYer of the milt\'eDo'Wl. C. G. Jung. Thi5 anicle conr.ains an affirmation of jung's modification of ~'11 nobon ol instinct. the theory of lll:'dlcty(:lell. Berpon it. not explicidy mentioned, but it seems ~ DeJeme is appeallng to the jungian dleory DC BTChet)'PCfi in order CO e.Iabo~ the biological-component of the &rgsonian unWnKloUll.

Olapter 3

Deleuze and thejungian Unconscious

At the end of hi$ 'tomnambulistic' period (1953-61), :oeleWJe published his anicle 'From Sacher-Masoch to Masochimt', which contll.in.a a. description and an endonemern of a new theory of instir.ld., this time borr~ directly from C. G.lung: .In3t.incts are limply mtem.al pereeption.s oforigl.nallmagell, apprehended in their own place [ ~ M oit tUn smrt1 in layen of variable depth in the uncorulciaus (1ft ~ ~ dt l'~' (8M I!U). 'T'his statement i$ a ~ of a paa.uge in Jung'! ~etl.U"e 'Instinct and the Unconsdous', d~red in London in 1919, In this lecture Jung is to be foond explicitly elaborating Berpon's theory ofilwinct. Indeed, Jung'lI tint WIe of the concept of the att~emetgelout of anlntel"pt'elalion of thb Bergson' ian theory. We alight upon one of a nwnber af n2.tUI'a1 roU15 bom Bergsoni$m towardsJungianWn, helping to give un:eUlaibifuy to D.eJeuu's afBrmarion ofJungianWn in me 19tH article} Onu It R seen that Del~ 'W'U, at 1ft'Jt al one point in his philosopbkal career, a Jungian, b..ill problems witb Freud become ~. ;as does his who.k! theory of the W1COmcioUl.2 1J.e}em,e turnll to Jung pa.rdy in order to develop furth~r Bergson's weird wmnambu.lilltic notion of instinCL But Jung'! nolioo of archetype will a150 provide him with a !lUppon fur a. development of the new theory of wnsciot.lMleSll and cogn'ition. derived from Kant. that i6\ presented in ~ amI ~ But in 3ddiuon it should be remembered that Delel.l7.e boepn his career with one fool in tilt' esoceril: mdition, and had already i.nheri.ted symbolist tendencies &om there. Underground crouoven berween Jungianism :and occulliam went on throughout the twentieth century (c£. ~ 1964; £..aDage 19'78}; bul it 'IJIIla un.usual for a philosopher to pursue mem. In what foIl.l:rM; we will try to undel:"!lRlld in more deWl why Deleuze ~ a~ to JWJg'3 theQt)' of the Ul1(;QJUICi(lUll. Although Dclewc only aplK:itly aflir:m& Jung'. theory of the aN:betypal uncon&ciow in one reWivcly obscure text fu>m 1961, Jungianism rontinues to shape his theory of the unconsciouli right up to 1JfjJemIu ,,'ltd ~ If Dekuu:'s work on masochilml began as Jungian and lI<'aS explicitly 'depth p6Y(:hological', this approach was aurled over to ~ mid ~ In a 'Note for the Italian Edition of ¥ '?f Smse' (1976), DdcU2e says; my book D1flm:ttt:t and R.tpditicn . , . aBplred to a cla.ssiGa! elevation at the time aa to :an an:b.aic depth. The sketch I ~ of a theory of Ul.teJUity

Arne

71

70 marked by a depth. whether it w.a.'l U'Uf' Of £aI5e: intensity was p~sented rising (rorn the depths , , , In ¥ of &-, however, the novelty for me

For a num~r of yean before srneeting Freud Jung bad been W
conu.ued in taking things from the surface. The notions remained the same: 'mulriplidl'y', 'singularity', 'U1u-nnty', 'event', 'infinite" 'problems'. 'para. doxes' :and 'proportions' - but reorgan~ according to this dimension.

class psychotics. In 1907 he cemented his friendship and collaboration ...-ith Freud by presenting bim with his ~ o{lJern.enli4 ~ (1906), in which he applied Freud's c()n~1.S ofrepre!$ion, substirotion and displacement, md compeIUatOry wish-fulfilment fO the flight of ideas in schi7.ophrenia. Jung refused to follow Freud the whole way regarding ~ sexu.<&l aetiology of psy-chQplubology. Following a period of intense colh\boration wirh Freud over the next few ~,Jl1ng became deeply irn~ in the SOldy of mythology and began to become C'
WB&

~

lTRM 65)

Anyone who has seriously tried to a.cOOJ'llJIlOdate Delewe' S $WL'JJleTlts aboul the WlconsciOI15 in Diffnma rJml ~ with Freudianism will ha"-e realized that the two juIIt dan't fit. Putjwlgianism, in ;ill it!! archaic depth '. mto the equation, and SOD'\(" illwninatiOl'l fin2Dy O
Jung, Psychosis and the "fraruifonnation of Libido Keeping in mind the points where the fracture between Freudian 'p$yCh<.., analysis' andJungian 'analytical ps~hology' fint occurred wiD help orientate U! in what fo1loM.. Ai Ylo-e have Been Ddeuze was not coming from a Freudian background at a.l1. Deleu.ze will wri~ about jung having explored Hunte. Berpm, Malinowski and the theory of instincts, along 'With esolericism; there ;n--e- no traces of interest in Freud. dellpi(e - OT, why noL. perhaps beatT&e of the o\l('rwhebning inte«:tt: in sexuallOYt: ill his earliest writings (cf. '~SC-rIP con of Woman' from 1945; see Faulkner 2002 fOJ context), Other traditions of thoughl about sexuality and the unconsciQUS appear to have been more

arret

alive in )9~ Frann~ than they were ~where and Me tocl..-y. Paradoxically. therefore, it b Deleuze's embrace of Jungianism that gives us dle dues to the Qrigim of Deleu.ze', ideas about Freud and psydJo;m:d~'!is.

psychotics. In 191 L Freud had attempted to further e.ucnd the rea<-h of psydwanalysis by applying !lID a <::il&e of paranoid plYChosill, in his famouS :maIym ofJudge &hITher's ~\1emoiTY of My NervmJ.s /UJw.{f. This w.lS to be a cruria.I resl case fur psychoanalysis: could a serious psychotic illness be explained. as neuroses had been by Freud, strictly in terms of ileXl.l3l a.edo1ogy? In his ~ EsJa,s om tM Thwry
satisfaction, based around fanmsy-activiry (SE 12: 222}. The~ strong fixations at early sexual stages are possible, thus providing esr.ablished channels for any hDldo that is repressed when the organic fwu:tion of sexuality is set in motion in puberty, Fixations at oral and anal sl3go can become rea.cti~d in thi8 way. iniUating a variety of compensating neurQtU: behaviours (neumm as ti) the 'uep.dw: ofpervel"Sioo'). Freud'$ h ~ abou1libldo permits ~. identify and articulatesexual stage& in the dliJd on the ~ of ob5ervadons of neurotic!. He admil5 that no amount of obser\l3tion of children am lcll WI about what goes on in the posOl!ated ani and anallltap of 5e1tU2lity. We t:all really only read me pgychic dmracter of these'stages back. !t()JIl their manifestation~in adult neuroocs. In bib analysis of &.hrcber. Freud attempts to extend this modd to p6yChOAis bY developing funhu hB account of me ~cu sexual 3taga He ~ a further Magt:. on the threshold of the transfurmation of autoerotism to objectt:hoiu:

early

mm

12 Th~Rl

comeJ i. time in the development oftbe iruiiYidual at which he unifies hi& wexuaI drivef (which h3~ hitherto ~n l!npged In aUl(H:conC activities} in order to obtain It ~ect~ and be begins by taking himself a.'l his own l~el:t. lind only subsequendy proceeds from thb to tb.e choke
Freud caI.l~ I.his ~ 'l'llU'CiJDU.m'• al:though be doei not dcw:lop hill views on lhis ~ until he 1$ forced into doing $0 by Jung'JI critique:. What i'rel.ld is COftu:med with here \$ the ~nee of a stage after n.a:rcissism, m whicl:1 the md&idual moves 10 'the choice of m enemal ~ect with !limila£ gmiWs' In Older to (l')()Ve from homosexual to h ~ o~e, a '~Oection' of ll\exual ~ect and aim n:nut ()i(:C11S. All far III the aim is c.oncmned, hoIltOfll!Xoat libido can becQme atIached to the ~ and mUll channel irself uuo '1QQa.I drivf:$, thtl$ contribul.ing an erotic fActor' to fritruWlip and romnuleship , , , and to the love of mankind in genual'. This is an euential component of the move to hett'1'~exua1~
some tratl#'o~n of libido in im fully sex.u.al serute.3 Freud proceeded to ~ the latter parh in hii 1914 paper on na.J."Ci!sislTl, where be ~d {()I" me existence of an o'ligimd '~', which puts out i19 e:athex,e, onto 'f)l:!jectHbido',6 JWlg e ~ the mher alternative we mentioned: the eoDetpt of libido iuelf must be ~ ttAinclude non~ energy, T,.f1JU~s G1UI ~ of tIu LWido W3.8 published in two parts m 1911 and 1912 and marked lung's- &eceuion ftomFreudian ~.') In it J~ roruendm apinBt the tatle'r alwrmt.t:iw mat 'reality is nOl undemood to bP: II ~ function' (fJ# B: 128). He ff'l:oiled from the idea that the '5e1Ue of nl'Jility' wu gl:ner.ned from wlthin a purely ~ ~ . For one thing. 'if that were 110, the IDtroVeniion of libido in the l'll:ria IenJe tnU$l ha~ as a ft:8Uit the 10. of reality in the ne~, and, mdl!ed. a loa which could be oompared witlt that of daIlefitia praecQ'l', N~, delIpke their inhibitions, symptoms and anxieties, lllill have ;3 fum, pemap only lnk:ml~ective. ~

Mn «'reali,y'

jung begins his ~ta'QOnotlUi theory oflibido with an atW:k on Freud:, concept of in&.ntire ~ty. and an argument fot a. disdnct 'll~' or 'vegeta.tive' phlilM:' of Uhldo. prior to its ttan.sfonnation into iie:ltUality (ON B; 129; CW 4~ 102-11). He had r~fl'eud'5theory of i.n&nft1e sexuatity from the beginning (CW a; 4). WJU)e be rerognized the imponance of scxu&tit¥ for ado1escence and :mat.U1ity, and their corresponding~,be rejfiacd the way Freud cha.raa.e.ri..r.ed the dmtes and pleasm-a of die inb.nt in tenns of anaL oral and genital !leXl1aIity, It is indeed endem that the i.nfml geu p ~ from the whole array of exprCMiom uf ~ita1l1exuality.indudmg the oral drive in thwn~ for i.nstan.re. It i!. aDo e'i'ident ~ the m&nt gf!fS pleasure from sucking al the brea6t. But jUllt because me infant ~ maDf wayi of obtaining pleasure m:...m the: ~loyment of its sexua.1libido does not mean that the pleasure the inf'ant &'fllI from sucking the breast is abo \lexuat It ill. a pure h~ co ~ that sexwU libido is already at wom in the iludduC of the breast. But if this amnot be proven, then one ;houJ.d not aIU!mpt to mAle die illsue by alm.ply redefining plcuurl'J as aexuaI plealu:re. We shOuld thUll draw btck from assuming that the .exual dri'Ie ill preent from me first. fOl me dnld. It. could be thai. rhe pleasure of tueldng ar: the breMt relilly is just nutriti¥« migbt be an enjoyment specific to eating and drinking (d. ON B: 129; CVIl4: 102-11}. Jung points out dtU in c:'lMrtcaJ. times the Latin word liIidtJ had me IlIDI'e genernhenJleof"plIlIIiom.wdeJinl' (CW4>; 11l),or~'deme' (CW4r 15; ON .a 123). He ci.tC'I Cicero, who Ilcfines 'libido' 23 desire 'di:roxced from reaaon and too violently a:rouaed .• , unbridled desire, whkb 11 found in aU iOoh' (1lrf.w:tUa'll ~ Iv."i. 12); and SaIJu8t, who ~ youths who invested. more libido 'in h:md!iome anm and ~ horaes than in harlot.ll and ~lrf (The "KbT W1JI ~ W). BefOre being BeXUaI. h'bido is paIlIIion, and 'U:JWlJly passion for ~ing ~t. It is desire or i~ ~bic abflorption in ~ing beyond the tall of ~ti(;:ality: although it nury manifest Wielf ali :Iexua1, even within sexual libido there may be eomething dIat

mere

75 points be'yond die ¢"xdtaWry .lim and the stimulating ol'/lect Of' fanClilS'f' l'he ""hole bod.. can be host to this 'psychic energy'; in a BttrlPotrilm ~,]ung in tUm opts ill 'enlBrgt! th~ narrower conC"epl of PllYehk energy £() ~ broader one aflite.energy, wtrich includes ·psychic:: energy" a.s a ~citk pan' (CW 8: 17, 1'0: C\V4:; 248).~ ~teuze':i and Guauari'~ theory that desire must be liUlicu1ated in terms of in~ties 16 not &(I W from the Jwtgian theory o£ p$Ychi.c energy. On the one hand, they condcmnJung for hil'idealilt dcviarion' (AO J281 from the troth that Freud did uncO¥er; the prill1at:y of 1lCXU3lity in the unconscious, But on the other hand, th~ are generally happier Wlmg the term 'desire' (,uJung had firtt suggemd), and many of the exampJel of intensive desire they use cORlpletely repel brini'ink'rpfeted in temlS (If llemality. 'The s:u:isfaaion the h~d'YJ1l;Ul ape~s when he pluw; something intO an e.1edrlc socket or divens lit !JU'eam of water can samet" be explained in terms of "playing mommy and daddy, or by the pleasure of violating the cabo<;' (AO 71. and it would be obviolJ5ly pwhing it to explain it i.n ~ of $e~uality lllI 'lI--elL Gwen that A~ rejects the lacltnian propamJ Ulat deiire u ~ua1 in the specific sen&e thai: it ~ eSS>!!nriaUy coNluueted around a primordial lou, Dt!Jeuu:'s and Gu~'s use of th<:! teTIn 'gexuality' ill ofH".D to the charge (again a.Iready made by JIDlg aga.iJnt Freud} that it rew on Ii mere ~f.J:l.l'lnric roanipubtion. Afl:f':r reviewing the construction Qf Malone's 'ston~g :machine' ill Beckett', ~, Dde'l.Jle and Guattari themselves ask 'wber.e in thi! entire Cir(:uit do we find me production at: &e'XWl1 pkasure' (AO !)? In ~ (1917} Deleuze UtunlS lD his previous position: 'We do not bel~ 'in lJt'nernl rlw: $e1l:Wility has lhe role of an infraIJ~in the auemblages of deli!l:lf, n{j.t mn it consUlll1:e$ an energy -capable of mmsfofln2.tion or (If neutraliAtion and wbJimation. Se':ru.ality em only be thought of as one flux among others, entering into conjun<:tiun ~th other fll.lXC$' (D 101). It is not clear that DelEme ever really left behind the m05t fundamental JW\gi.an principle'!. One woukf he forgiven for lWWning WI Jung would therefure go on to eooclude dial there is no relation between psychotic libido and the constitution of reality. SinceJung had conu:nd.ed that 'n:ality is not a sexual function' . one mighc have expected him to numtain tho:! d.iikren.ce in kind bel:W'eCn libidinal and reality functions; the 'loa of realh:y' woWd have nothing bJ do with a widtdl"b1l1 of libido. Bm mcb an. usumption WQU)d involve a premature Intrusion of c~mmon 1l4!~. Jntl.ead Jun.f IQI!'S in the opposite direction: me cotl$titution of re.alicy C4" be eJtplained in ffmll of a D'al'l!ilionnatitm of libidinal ~ . b«aWt libidQ il:Sclf is not purdy lleXUal. Libufll) is vegetative. sexuaJ, and can become d e ~ in ~hom. 'l1le individual i& nn... of all a biological reality, and lIDY '&erde of ~ty' that emerges. for itself is a result of events ill tts ontogene1Jb~ ·Reality· iI nOl: ncn J\~1lltIUily con:stituredfor the dl."W'Jopmg hwnan being aU lit once. and may be built up by a set ()l t1'ardtCJrmations of neutraJ libIdinal ~ReJgy. jW1g'f> explanation of how this happens ~ the MCb.oan.alytic theory of reality in lID t'nt:ireJy di.fi'erent dire(1jon to

the trajectories produced b>y- Freud's t.w:n

the primat:y of narciW.tm, Jung movement from nutririvlt self~rvati(}n (building"l.Ip and reprod.'w:rion of the individmd body) to the instinCt for the: pl'eiitt'Yllrion of the species (sex:ua.l reproductlQrti.9 The!ii: are biological phaset of a gen.er.d form.arive instinct for 'reproduction'. of which the mt;eai\'f' side is fdt(>int, and be ~ ~ about the leveh at which thu process is llit~: 1$ he pr~mmg evolutionary argumentli about functions.. or de5CripUoI15 of endQgenous indiY1dual deYdapment, 01 metaphvsi.c.al arguments about the nature of de$ire?ll' Jung 5Qtne~ wntt:!J as if thl' third ~\ in which -a 'fun.ction of reality' is Mt born.. corn;\$pond's lO a '~Uation' whkb ilIiuelf merelv a mIl fu~ ~ in the endopnom de~ll)pment of lib1do. ll However. Jung remains... on the sur:tal:e. strictlv Freudian about wbleh aspect of seXualIty is KspomIble fur fbi! rom, It iJ dte appearance-, within the domain of l>e'XuaJ

posilll an orlgirlaL, biologically

to

en~nous

libido, of a particular ponron of' ~ libido. that

~

the need for

l:I"allSfurrnation, The emergen~ of a reality411nr.Qon tina 0CCI.m/. due to a limit that • ~d tuilhll'a the field orsex.ua1ity. It Is ironiI::;, in fact, thatJung is ~ for his criticism& of Freud's 'poo5exm1i:sm' and for hm iJ:J&st.en<:'.e on '~ity' a3 oppmt'od to sexuality, when he spends most at the re.u of 'Tram~ and ~ showing how everytbing that Wrtlltitute$ humanity f$ the result at: an onginal reprc!lSion of the: ~ desire for with the morber, Far from bdng a retreat from the Freudiart project of relating human mkure in ilS .mtirety to $txu.alU.y, we shouid Bee that Jung'. le1Ct goes further fhan Freud in attribuling emergence of she: ~.function ltAelf 10 the aansformation <» mc.estuol;$ desire. H~r, where Freud In Tdem <md TGboo relares lilin:wical manifestltiom of the incellt t.aboo to a ~ in:ti.uttik: ~ fur weeK with the lI1odrer. jung comes to argw: apinat inferring the llt lUI.tUre of a detire from the bisrorlc:al e~ce of a law that repr~ it. \\o"hm. the child deHres from the modta, w~ the . . forbids, and the mother'$ own inrertUom, conscious or uncQ~m. are an quite distinCt arid neither am be inff!rred from me others.. further, e1U1 if die repr~n of inc:es:t\JOU$ 1ibido wek the triF"of Ihe emerpnce of the reality-funaion. it if, the mecnaniml of ~ ontO ~ terrain that ~ that function, ~ FIaJd'lI inRmmce Oil one peralline or (lIe.X:U31) bbklitul dntelopfJl.eot. Jung postUlates: _ initial tmd.ogenous phaIell of eN: libido, the prtHexu:aJ nutritive and sexual, wKb diffeknt aims and ~e<m. Once such ill duality is in place. the ~ity arises of a 'primary' ~il)n. Jung'!!> propo8llL ~, 1.$ rhat me third phax of !he libido, de!Ie~n, is

mces[

w

~ ~ '" a ~.from 1M uxual fJAo.w b«k emw the.,.,..SifItIN41, as a ft!Nlt qJ (1 ~ lf1 &QII/t' Mf'td t?f ~ It is 'by a rqretl8inn to the pre~.ma.tel'W (that1 the libido bet';<>roe$ qU3/i~u.atilIed' (CW 8: 151). lung', argument here also h3$ the a
76

Dtleu:r.e and the Unamscious

Deleu:r.e and the Jungian Um01lScious

77

theory. For Freud, the encounter with the barrier against incest is inunediately followed by a 'latency period' of sexuality, in which the process of sublimation and adaptation to social reality is allowed to continue relatively Wlperturbed Wltil puberty. Onlv then does libido really encounter the risk of regressing back onto older paths, when a damming-up of sexual libido C3Ullell a regression onto forbidden incestuous desires, which in rum push the libido back into older (oral and anal) libidinal formations.Jung sees a milIsed oppornmity here: why not use regression from incestuOUl! libido to explain the shift to the reality-principle itself? The function of reality would be produced by an original transformation of the energy of incestuous desire so that it can be released in the contemplation of an object that is now virtual: the vegetal, nuoitive mother. In JWlg, there is no mysterious libidinal latency stage: rather there is an initial birth of the reality-function, quite peculiar to itself, in which reality appears in a first 'animistic' guise, charged by the repressed symbol of the mother: the world as symbol. The transfonnation of libido produces a corresponding transfonnation in the way the world appears to the primal human being. Perhaps the reason why it is so hard to remember one's childhood is because one's libidinal map is plotted completely differently at the various stages ofchildhood, and the move to new libidinal investments is equivalent for the child to stepping into a new world. The repression of inceswous desire for the mother is the most important of these transfonnations, because the repreSllion of sexual libido is this time not aided by any endogenous, self·preservative tendencies. In the beginning, says Jung, symbols do not yet appear in abstract fonn, but appear as the rites and ceremonies themselves, conducted under the rule of 'magical thinking', or omnipotence of thoughts (CW B: 48). 'A ceremony is magical so long as it does not result in effective work. but preserves the state of expectancy. In that case the energy is canalized into a new o~ect and produces a new dynamism, which in tum remains magical so long as it does not create effective work' (CW B: 46). Whereas in Freud, omnipotence of thoughts OCcurs in the child when 'they sat.i5fy their wishes in a hallucinatory manner' (SE 13: 83--4), for Jung ritual activities specifically involve the redirection of libidinal activities onto new objects. jung describes the desexualization of libido by means of the investment of images and symbols as producing a novel st3le of e:t/J«t4ftCJ, in which 'the mind is l'ascinated and possessed by ... the newly invested object' (CW B: 46). Rather than being a hallucinatory wish-fulfilment, magical thinking is an essential component in the tra.n8fonnation of the Umwelt into a world of symbols. It is the first step in the animation of a 'reality' beyond the reproductive circuit of nawre. Symbolic thinking, it tumlI out, is precisely the means by which a 'canalization', 'transition', or 'bridge' (CW B: 137) is made out of the domain of inunediately sexual libido (or in Freudian tenDS, the pleasure principle) into a 'beyond' of nature, a transcendent space or ontological clearing within which something called 'reality' can be constituted. jung's prime examples concern the historical genesis of the reality-function r.uher than its

genesis in the psychic life of the child. His claim is that the ancient material elements, such as earth and fire, first become isolated for the human mind by §erving as conduits for repressed sexual libido. Might not the origin of fire lie in the redirection of repressed incestuous libido into the rhythmic boring of holes into wood, or rubbing together of sticks, giving rise to the generation of fire as a by-product? The material element, fire, is thus an actual indirect product of displaced sexual energy.l~ The discovery of the powers of material reality, the transition to the threshold of realit}', thus coincides with the emergence of the symbol. lfreality originally appears as 'animistic', endowed with mythical powen, this is because it comes into being through the repreSllion of the mother-image. Reality is thus immediately symbolic, and is a by-product of repressed incestuous libido. Nature i&lf (that is, nurturing nature) now emerges as the vast, new symbolic object of a desexualized libido: no longer just na.ture as nutritive Umwtlt, but nature as numinous symbol of the mother

(Mater fttJtunz). Jung is concerned to depict a shift from the symbolic approach to reality to the emergence of a 'directed' kind of thought, which 'adjusts itself to actual conditions, where we ... imitate the succession of objectively real things'. This directed thinking is now opposed to a 'non-directed', or 'merely associative thinking ... a drBam Of" pluJntas'J thinking (CW B: 18-20).1~ The shift corresponds to a son of progreSllive de-anirJltJtWn of reality, an attenuation of its vital symbolic substrate: the symbolic origins of reality now appear as the object of mel? 'phantasy-thinking'. This capacity for directed thinking intensifies with historical devdopment: 'directed thinking was not always as developed as it is at present ... The directed thinking of our time is a more or less modem acquisition, which was lacking in earlier times' (ibid.) .l~ jung develops an epochal account of history derived from sources such as Bachofen and Crewer. Deleuze concurs that it is impossible to understand a perversion such as masochism 'without taking up some strange historical perspectives' (8M 127); incredibly, he seems to endorse aJungian, epochal view of history, with Anima and Animus as the main protagonists. In Bachofen's epochal narrative, a pri.mewl 'MotheNight' is eventually replaced by a phallic Law that gained ascendancy in Greece and Rome. 16 Masoch was an avid reader of Bachofen, often making allusions to 'an epoch of beautiful Nature, to an archaic world presided over by Venus-Aphrodite, where the fleeting relationship between woman and man has pleasure between equal parmen as its only law'. Why was the primitive, hetaeric and incestuous mode of existence repressed? As we have said,Jung himselfwas ambivalent about this, and only gained a consistent, if complex position later, after Trn1LSfurmotitms and s,mJJols. So at this point, we can lend an ear to Masoch's interpretation of the repression of incest. Incestuous existence was not repressed at all, he says; rather, 'beautiful nature was thrown out of equilibrium by a climatic catastrophe or a glacial upheaval' (8M 127). Only 'the catastrophe of a glacial epoch' can account for 'both the repression of sensuality and the triumphant rise of severity' (M 53).17 On Deleuze's and Masoch's fanciful acCOWlt, matriarchal

79

78 law w::u t'epbced by a brief, vanishing ime~um which is immonal:iztd by centum afterward.~: 'the Demetrian em dawned among the Amarom and a~i$hed a strict sYDocmtk and agrkultum ordl:r; r.he swaxnp$ were- drained; the lather or husband now acquired a cerWn Sl:.3.t'\U but ire sdll rm:liU~d undeT the domination of the woman' (M 53). But this epoch of 'preeariOWl splendour and per~,ti(Jn' co",ld nQt liil6t and the Amaronian QrOer 'WllS overcome by futt.:e, with pal:X'im:ha1 law, which from now on prohihi6 mce!i.t with the mother, undeT the threa.t of castraUon. Deleuze cQncludes his epoch hilllory ominouSly: 'He who uueatth:s tho!:' AnUM ~ M this regression: an the more tmib1e for being repre'lllOO, the Anima will know how to rom pa.triarchal st:rucrures ro Its own advantage and reditlc:ovcr the power of the devouring Mother' (8M 127'.. Psychosis therefor-e .is a.bove all an ll.nadu-oni$m. Vo1w happeru in psvChtollll; is a regression to the fust phase of the fUll\;t1Q\1 of J'~ltty, [n psychQIA.. Jung claims, I a drripping ~ r.1 the last m;qu~ qf ~ ~ 6f rmliJ't (iff aMptalinn) mwt oj ~ be npiacet1 bt; i;l..·l ~ 1'I'Illdt of tdcptotilm (CW 8: 136). It cannot be iii Tegt'eSlJion from a. moment ohe:tual reprewon bac.kl.O an earner se:mal sm.ge of omnipotent.. seJf..enclosed fan~ing. It iuvol:vt1 a rt:grf$l!don which leads l:roaek from 3. secomb.ry. histori.cld fum:ooll of reality to an ~ 'mythiar function of reality, in wbichthe energy of 3tltUal libido was redepl~ by magical means. For Freud, th~ p!YcllOti4;; i# taId.ng radical me:35tll'8 apiMt sexU3l anxiety, :md in particular agmm anxiety about homosexuality. If these is ~ty In ~is, rountenJ\Uli. 'it i$ not lib normal or nem:otic ~. hUt is rather a component of II ~ diMinguisbed by it$ ex:~e, which can become unchecked b}' inte~t. reflective c~~ FI."'(Jm the ia.w!r point of Wew, p$YChosis is an :iUlll.Chronistic ret.olJec.tioo. of .a namre imbedded with &)1nbob. It is as if J'L'YChosU ~ the appearance of individnal 5)11100& systems. cast adrift from my coi1«ti'le value that the 1>}mbOOc: munml of reality mighl have bad I.n earUu. a«baic hiliwric:aJ epocbi, But convenely ill it poI1l!Iibk ro foresee a complete de-animation of :nature, when the retnnan1.ll of the symbolic origins of reality are entirely forced underground into &.ntuy thinbng? 'The first level of reality would rowe v.aniMled from the human being's o~ective rt:lationmipi to the world. ami would be completely intcm.alized in the uncon!Kious. In tbllt t:aSe. the normal human being would llQ( ~ :an invrrted p<:J:"Vet't, .u Fr~d thought, but a ~l p&;'(00tk. Rom Jung atld Oeleuze consider (albeit for different rea&Oo&} modernity iIllelf as ~ patbogt>nic, as an ~r-expandingfacwry fur the prodocticrl of plYChotkB, A new hUitorkal epoch ill dawnmg. As capiQllmn ~ tIS defencelee ~ our inner lIChwpbunia. ~r rn.ore prone to delirium, :a new libidinal prngIeMion ou:l only come about thrQUg:b A new ~ion (d. CW 8: ~2.-..4()), There t. flO longer an;i'lhing :m:a£hronistic about so::hiMpbrenia; its motley prb and ~ .speech are s.igN of a being from the future, .a tneMengeF from diatant. lunac 5Ocieliel, In ihe l ~ of it ~NJ Pri.UttIw, the Earth i€Self 11 d<:'tcrrit~lz.ed, Ix-C.QmUlg a &UCllite for 'I'UIlOCh_ fur

the re<:epOOn of oomOC forces, The schiwphrenk has been forced agaimt wiI1 to becOllU' a. ~TUlrm:, a ronjuror of fo-rees; and conversely it :is poMible to 1eam again from Khirophrenic& how to be!- sorcerers, According to A ~ the lIChizophrenic it. '3& dO!e as poIiIiible ro matter. to a burning, lmng centre of m3tUlY· (AO 19); they have entered, without knowing how, an unbearable $ta~ of 'cdi'l:lab: misery and glory e&.perienced to the fullest. 1iktl a cry Wllpended br:cw~ell Iill: and death, an intense feeling of In.nIIIdon. ~ of purl" naked illtCmlty stripped of all shape and fOrm' (AO lSi,

melt'

Neurosis and Psychosis The neurotic tOO CArlJ10t help falling bad. Into the tim., childhood plane of reality. but in a way that is completely difterem from the Freudian ronapt of regreSllion..lUllg argues thai: Freud is COITee( to aay th3l n ~ are ~red in adole1lCence and young adulthood by failUNS to find an am1aIlove object. For Freud this failure results in themUUtla.til>n of the Ulloomeious ~ left over from the Oedipus complex. The 3.CCtW iOOal rqlfeWoo cf ado1ellcero K:X is the opportuniry for reprew:d, urH.:omdOUll inc~ fiDCom to resarfia« and feed off supprell5ed. a.cr.u.ai tibldo, c.aUling n~otic "fIIlPtonJI, JWlI. however, belie'fed that Freud bad misJn~the situatioo, He is Keptical about whether persot'l3I traumas in the ~t.oriel of DeUrotia ime any solid causal role. }fu arguments agaimt Freud on this pomt are always about wbether &aVality' i5 a mf.ticimt ouse for net1ltl:!l$. He N!"rel" ~~ sexual. problems ar~ e~nttal in the ~ority of the neuroses of the young. Uti problem is thx the se:waI ~ of!be nelD'OSil V mostly likely ~ ~ve Qrigi-uted III adoIescel'llre (when the senml ~ emerges) 7 and therefore tbar if th~ cause of saual lB':lIrolIe5 is to be sought in dilldhood, then it might well

be uOlHe!tual. In his 1912lectuml on 'Tbe l1tem:y of Psythoanaljm r Jung took up Freud's retr.l.Ct1on (in 1900 in 'My VIeWS on the Part fta~d by Sexuality in the Aetiology of the Neurosei'} of hit earlier view that actual historical traumas were caWlaly producli.'Ye of n.eurosia.. Freud had stated that in &ct 'the patient's pNn~ (or imaginary memoricl!s) ~rlf: mOfdy produ«d in puberty', wing 'JnliI!'ml)rI.es of thoe: .~ect'! own sexuallil.CtMty (infantile masturbation)' (Sf. 7~ 174).JUftfJ ~ Fr:eud's qualiiiation of his trauma theory .u furtheT proof of the W l ~ of the idea of the sexual aetiology of th~ neuroses. He o ~ to ~ traI..ll'Ila theory on the grounds that the incompalibi1ity of .emaIideawiththeegocmnot:a«oWltforallt:raU.mal. let alone :all ~ we haft :seen that he obje<:ts to the infantile sell:UUl:lr th~ ~ not;aU p1euwe jj lICnW. But be alto takes Freud's abanOOII.D'leD[ of the seduction theory and hii (;O~l\t embrace of the nooon duit fant:atllies are ~d than real event» to ~akefl bill argument for the pt'imacy of sc~. For if Freud had adtnltted that f.mtasies are ~y produ.:ed in puberty, then one cannot be lflU'e they bave om:ytIting to do with infanq. Jung claiml that the hysteric:: ·lltagc·ma.nage'8' bel" re~. in U1'du to invdgk

nmer

81

80 the an~ WW nnnu~ and intim:l.te preocr:upation with the details of ber life: she ~ die ~ t('J() to enter' her fam:atworld (CW 4; 161-2). An adole5cent girl might only IIC3rt to ~l unw.mIon:ab!e around her tather when ber exuallibido is blocked froot fu.lfilment in the ouuide world; the result of her fl."mtradoD is that the father's behaviour beP to be interpreted II-' sexual.)& lung aI.fo argued that chel'c art' many eases of neurom ~ ~.ich

.............om6 are entirelv abent until ~-T-

J

3.

breakdown comes about. A cntical ~

attitude' {CW 4:: %46} to nel.lll»1s WlU therefore necemry. If there is no sufficient r-euon for 1Ie~ reprc$$ion at the inflmt.ik level, then we thould not necessarilv look for other p<*lble tt"~ at the infantile l.evd, bUl rather look at the ~iblJity that, in order tQ be ~n all tra~. certain ~condition.shave to be fulfilled- The aymbolbm Qftlw: urUet' l'!:'l1et\t hu to be relevant to the current problem. The prelC:l1( has 10 be II critical moment:: 'it is usually the moment wben Ii new psychological adjuw ment, that D, a new adaptation, ill demanded' (ibid.), It could therefore be that it ill a &ilure of adaptation i1t 1M ~t tI1at rcmcmatel tile donnant memory. Psychopathological regreuion must al~ be seen in the ftnt place a a regte'lAion .frum an adolescent or adlik problem in rcal1ife. We are not dm'rmi1ll!tl by original mmmas as Freud !llll"': :Ii a u:;wma exi!u in the pa.a. then it can only exert its influence on om pr6'M!nt by its resotlanc.~ ..1dl om c:w:rent; problem, From ado1esc-enc:e cmwards, we are ~pted to find out "'7It!f back to O'I.U' past Iibidlnal investments in s.earch of aliblS fOT our pretCflt failure to

resolve curtetlt libidinal problems. But even in neurosis repressed se:xua.l libido ('all be c:bannelkd bad into the

f'undamenw. a.nimi:stic ~ of realitY. prm'idinlJ ~ ~ ~ for the libido. In 'From ~ to M:asocbiml' [)e1eu:zle wriIett th. l q em th.eTefore reproach Freud fur having Jef1 in the dark both the re:aJ ~ present in a lleUI'Olris and the tre3Sl.U"6 it can conWn. He: said thM Freud hlui 3. ~ootlook. on ~ "1t i$ nothing but . ...... (SM 133). De1~ eben cites two ~ fromJung: 'Hidden in the neurom il;l hit of llOlt Uftde.. \'eloped personalty. a predou! ~t of the psyche JatUng wbiclt a tnlm is condemned to ~ bitte~ [and ~ g dse that .. ~ to lire], A payd1oJogy of neur
106). "I'here are ~ult neufoaa who 9:I'e burdened bf~" Ill/del ~

ewry ~ their problem is to be reconciled with th~ rhx la, to reintegrat,e in cheir penoonality thOle very parul whidl t.hey have fte~d to develop' (SM lSS). Although Del.euu will soon c:ease to use the ~ of 'reconciliation' of 'reint.egra.tion' (which. among other drings. sill u:au:uiJy with his elOteric theory of the eremaJ return; DR. 24l-4) > the notion that there an:: ldeas,U:naget, and S)'!DboIs which 'tranllCend [+sse} every ~(e' remainS fundamenw for his conception of the pioceM of individuarlon in ~1Iftd~and~ ~ hoDoh of il. 'seoooo binh'. rebirth or renailJsante iA fundamental to Dd~we from me beginning. The notion ball an e1!Oleric badground, going bac1 to J'lIkob BOhme's themophy. and. beyond mOO ~Dt ~ ideas of the r.ranmligration of MlWs (DR 241-4). In A ~ I.I'lI4 Hittmd.J ofK~ ~ ~ dial the 'tran8f'tgurarions' brought about by natu.raJ and lIl1iIlcilll somnambuliMn are bebind 'the idea of rebinh ( ~ } among tM IndJam, who,lilS ane~, describe themselves a! twice born' (MaJfatU 18.f5~ Large tr'a(U of jung's ~ tmd ,~ (the work ofjung', (0 which ~ moM frequently releB) are devowi to the exposition ¢f a core myth of rebirth which Junr ~ in the badground of the mythologies handed dawa by bBory. The myth 11 of 3. hero who entefll on a 'night sea journey' into the m.atcmal womb in order to be reborn again in a new mOl'TUI1l' ForJung, 1his A'Iiflh reconh the ~ process th3t we have recounted of an e~rgence of ~ tibido into human reality. But fui! myth re¥OM!ll around an etIgetltiaJ fanwyof de'mration and rebirth that emerges in proportion to the .....-eight attached to the maternal imago u ~ of. ~ Either the hero be~ psychotic and reanima.t:n naxure, or the libido 'sinb back into ilS own depth&, into theJOW'te from which it has gushed furth, and ttU'lU brac.k. to thai: point m tleawge, the umbi.liau, througb which it once entered Into dUll body . , , rhet man baa become fur the world above a phantom, then be pmakally de.ad Of ~ I y in' (CW B: !83-4). 'The world of nre~' and f.wtaly themselves d'um JUhsDtuie altogether for the 'upper world'. and block the progr~ movement of sexual libido. Either way, the bero facC$ the dcYouring mother, who is 'not only devouring insofiIr :lIB heT image" repreued. but in and by herself' (SM 136). The uncomcions fantatia that ~merge 00. this COl.lt'Se all tend to an a.pocatyptic terminus: 'The wiJh b diat the black warer of death might be the water oflile; that deub, wUh iu (old embrace. might be the mother'. womb, just as the !lea de"flOU1"ll the 6W4 but itfortb again out of the matL'maI womb' (CW B: 21lS), Deletu.e IIafS th3t ]ung demonllms.ted. that incest algnifies the second birth, that is, to 8l1Y a hemic birth, a parthenOJJenetD (entering a second time' info the m.aternaI breast in order w be born anew or: to become a child apinY Cs.'f 12'9). In Jung, incest hall become tornething quite different to what it is in Freud. Incest is not even ~ into the uncoNld~rather.lt iUl~of;rebl:rth.We are not URColUCioU& of deep mcatUOUil desires becaute they are ~d; we are unconJeioU5 of the fllta'ltfltg ar M1tS6of the symbol of 1nCflt. The problem of the relation of ~ to llb'idlnal fon:es cannot be lll)h;Ied

"V'

brio.

82

83

Deleuu and the UncOTIscious

Deleuu and the Jungian UnconscUms

in terms of libidinal economy alone. Where Lacanian psychoanalysis attempted to resolve the relation of energetics to symbolism through recourse to snucr:ural linguistics and anthropology, Jung and Deleuz.e mine the older epistemological tradition of Kantian philowphy in order to account for the validity of the autonomous space of symbols. What follows is an introduction to Jung's theory of the unconscious, and a reconsnucrion of its relations to Kantianism, as indicated by Deleuze. As already suggested, from 1961 onwards, Jungianism shapes Deleuze's theorv of the unconscious right up to Differena and Repetition, which continues to resonate with a Jungian 'archaic depth' (TRM 65). For most of the 19608, Deleuze's investigations into the unconscious revolve around a Kantian-jungian synthesis, based on the notion of 'unconscious Ideas', but also pulling various esoteric themes into ia orbit. In the subsequent chapter, we follow how Deleuze proceeds from Jung's notion of the symbol through to Kant's account of symbolism, to a radicalh' novel conception of the psychotic basis of all symbOlic reality. which, as w~ have seen. was the fundamental theme of Tf'ansjonnlJtUm.s and S:frnJ;Io/.s of the

two versions. Even if one accepts a strong Kantian position about the selfconscious subject, then one must accept that 'empirically' it always finds its limit 'when it comes up against the unknoum. This cOruJists of everything we do not know, which, therefore, is not related to the ego as the centre of the field of consciousness' (ibid.). The unknown outer world, however, is ofless importance than the unknown inner world, which can also be thought of as the Bergsonian 'virtual' aspect of the mind. But for Bergson, Janet and jung, the unconscious was also fundamentally defined in a rugatiw relatirm to me 'species activity' of consciousness, in a way that has no parallel in Freud. Consciousness for these thinkers has a biological function, to attend to the environment for practical purposes. Consciousness is 'anention to life'. Therefore what is unconscious is always unconscious in rr.latiun to an o.ctWe, Jutu~ ego. What is unconscious at any given moment is what is inessential for the practical purposes of the ego; dreaming must be inhibited simply because it incapacitates the activity of the active ego. The unconscious thus can be taken as strictly 'relative' to the ego. Rut this immediately gives rise to a paradox: how can one have a wgnitive fflatiDn to what is unconscious? We have JUSt seen that the unconscious is 'the totality of all psychic phenomena that lack the quality of consciousness' (CW 8: 133). If the unconscious is entirely unknown, then we cannot enter into relation with it. Thus whatever we have to say about the unconscious is what the conscious mind says about if {CW 18: 7).!I\ The jungian unconscious contains an extra reflexive level absent from the Freudian unconscious. For Freud, what is uncoruJcious is what is repressed, and one is conscious only of the 'derivatives' of the unconscious idea. For Jung, if one is obviously never conscious of the unconscious, then one nevertheles& is conscious tIuJt one has an unconscious, and that in itself can be important. The unconscious enters into relation with the ego by appearing to the ego as the unconscious. Thus jung says that dream-figures more often than nOl actually represent 'The Unconscious'. The m;gor Jungian psychic 'agencies' - shadow, anima, animus, Self - are all symbols of the unconscious. They are distinguished by the different modes of relationship they present between the ego and the unconscious. In his 'Tavisrock Lectures' (1935),jung gives an account of the differentiation of consciousness, passing through the various relations of ego to unconscious. Consciousness first arises in an instinctual setting, attached to instinctual adaptability. 'In early childhood we are unconscious; the most important functions of an instinctive natme are unconscious, and consciousness is rather the product of the unconscious. It is a condition which demands a violent effort. You get tired from being conscious ... It is an almost unnatural efron' (CW 18: 10). Consciousness is derived from 'the intensity of feeling,.n Hence there is a primacy o.Jfediue consciousness. Because children are still instinctual, it is difficult to say that they have an unconscious: rather their conscious activity is, as Ru:yer would say, a manifestation of the competent actua.lization of their instineu. Up until the end of the first decade of life, the child has a peculiar kind of consciomness, 'a consciousness without any con-

Libido.

Jung on the Unconscious The term 'unconscious' has a series of distinct meanings inJung. Later on in this chapter we will see that there is an important 'transcendental' component to Jung's meory of the unconscious. However, before we encounter the Jungian tranSCendental unconscious, we should draw attention to a series of ~ of the ego to the unconscious.. The process of individuation, claims Jung, is structured by a series of phases of the development of consciousness, in which the unconscious is encountered at each point in a different form. The child has a somnambulistic consciousness dQlle to animal instinctual consciousness but mediated by human institutions; as an adolescent the unconscious becomes the 'sharlow'; during the love-relationship, the unconscious becomes, as anima or animus, the end of activity; finally the unconscious reveals itself as whatJung ca& 'Self', as a s'UijHlritJr OtJvrwithin the mind itself. The unconscious appears as a paradoxical unknown 'Self': 'the ego is, by definition, subordinate to the Self and is related to it like a part to the whole' (CW9i:5). As a zero pole,jung posits an 'absolute unconscious' to designate the totality of everything that is unconscious. 'Consciousness is like a surface or a skin on a vast unconsciOU6 area of unknown extent' (CW 18: 8). Forjung, the unconscious 'includes not only repressed contents. but all psychic material that lies below the threshold of consciousness' (CW 7: 128). The unconscious is not restricted to repressed mental content (as in Freud). 'lde~ the uncomc:i.ous as the totality of all psychk phenomena that 1.ack the quality of consciousness' (CW 8: 138). In AiDft,Jung simply describes the unCOnscious as 'the unknown in the inner world', in parallel to the 'unknown in the outer world' (CW 9ii; 3). This unconscious no longer has the 'transcendental' status of the previous

84 lciausnesa of the tflO: But then, suddenly 'ro.- the first time in their lives they know uw. they thenaelves are experiencing, that iliq' are 1IJoking bal;k QVC'r a past m which they can remember thing!! happening but C3mlot remember that they were in them' ICW 18; 8). The ego first ~ during a sudden, profoWld expene.nce of divWo~ In)' ~ious states belong to me, although I don't rtmember them !2$ mine. The s-eem for dWociarion are thus set up as soon as 1 identify myself as 'I'. & Kant saw. the 'I think· will nevtr coim:ide l\'lth the 'ego' or 'self'. 'I"hc Other does not first appear a5 superior. It appears firu in me form of a shadow of inationality over the child'll attempt to order its priorities. The fonn taken is the negative of the form raken by egoic consciousness. The uncon&ciow lint appean » what is excluded by me adaptive perfunna.l:lCe1! of tfle. ego. H the taSks of dle conscious ego are narrow and adaptive, the unconscious appean u an adverSiUY. Thus at a certain crucial stage in life {from adolescence to early adulthood), the repressed cont(::nts (If the mind are indeed the dominant f3<:e of the unconscious. The potential £Or ineroversion is present at every stage of life, butJung accepts that the 5mge of the ieYllal instinct ill a particularly vulnerable moment.lnJung's view, Freud fails to see that the lteXUai aetiology of many neuroses is connected to the period of adolescence. when the world ofinD:'O\"et"ted fantasy become!! flooded 'trith the sexual eDei'g)' that is denied immediate expression in the actual world. The pwage from childhood to adolescence has in"uJ"-ed abe gradualacqW' sinon of skill and rompcu:nre in pracrical ma.tters, 2nd me kicking-in of the sexual imtinet represenb die tim real challenge to the ego. Where .Freud !OllW the guilt tied to masturbation as due to the re-emergcnce of incestuous f.mt.allies. for Jung the more important point is IMt the ensuing retreat into ona.nisti<: introversion is itself productive of dissociation. As.IM r.IS the organillation of the ptyehe is concerned, d1e important factor is not the sexual drive i_leo but the extent of the dissociation produced by the emergence of the' sexual innirJct, which oppo~ the synthetic 1I£tivitics of intclligent consciotUnCS$.. Moreover. the ~iating power ofimtinct does not only appear in the fOrm of masturbation: other 'thematic' forms of the 5CIUlIl instinct (snch as rivalry or couruhip behaviou.n) mipt also mani&:st ~ , diModated characrerisUC3, that rouJd eDlU into conflkt with the ego. Frotn ~ onwanIa. when the oppOOtion between ego and the UDCOJUIciou.o; has lint been established. the Ullcrm.sdoUS is the 'shadow'. What Freud cdJed 'wompatible Ideas' thUi tint of all appeal'" as the ideas. of an inCOlQpatible 'IIeJr. 1'he shadow manother MlJ, Jekyll to Hyde: anotller lives in!Iidl! me. This is of coune made 'po!II!l',lbJe by the d.i.s8ociating, somnambulistic capabilities of COO8Cioumess.. Because dissodarlon u attended by a peculiar lhOUKh naJ'l'OW Slate of oomcioumes& (this iJ what Freud overlooked), the &badow 1& finIt con<:d'w!d as
Ikleuz.e and the ]ungmn UnamscWus world from within. When a sutrlect seeks to realise the sexual instinct in reality. it is guided by a pre-existing image which renden the world the al1::l1a for the realisation of the sexual in.stincL But it is not so much fh~ Im-e is ~daIly JY.fYclwtic. rather that love is terminal rea!izaJ:ion of the sexual imtind in hwnan bei.nga. For Jung, when the subjea fAlb in 10\'e, he or she encoumen the Wlconscious in a new fonn - as anima or animus. They no longer repreM the unc<mKWUi, but actively follow their irTaIional.anracUon to another being through to its concluskJn. All othen disa:ppear, and the external world is euen· rially reducM to one other penon (the minimum fur a world). But the uncoo5Clous now takes on a. different form: the subject comciously pun;ues means to an unconscious end. Nobody knows nthy they f.ill in l~ with .a ~ penon. For Dcl.eure in T>iJfnma and ~ f.rm is the centrnl e~ce of ~ unconscious, and eYtm has iu own ',yrnhe*! of time'. But the pursuit of love to its end a1way~ Te$Ulu in the lover getting more than they bargained for. I..ovt-lw an 'end" that is. it has a p;tlwbich is not necessarily an end in the lIeflIe of a ~ of the relationship. At the end of love, a. new, final furm of the unronscioWl We! shape. This is the form that Jung <::4lls the Self In ill final funD, the unoonKious appears as an inner Other, the meaning of whose utterances. whether gMm in dreams or through 'active imagination', ~ has to inrerpret.. But for the unconscious 10 appear Q$ unoonscious, it must be symbolized. The dream III always a hieroclYPb which COIltmns ~ about the dreamers indi:riduatron. A dream is never a ~d J)IIObollc representation of an old wh. It addreues the dreamer ~ it B a vital communication. .Every dream is a report on me cum:nt iUmation of individuation. Hence ctreams aR mtrUuicaDy reflerive in chat they present the mQject's predicament in the fum) of a hieroglyphic, lnterior drama. 'I>reams are nothing but self-representations ofrhe psychic process' (CW 7: 131), '5elf.reflexh.iry' is thus conceived in a fundamentally different way (0 the Kantian model of self-consciousness, In dreams, my umonsOous Self portrayl the ~nt state of my individuation in enigmatic tcf'l"O!l. A dream is reflexive in the sense that a play within a play (a double dr.unadzariOll) iii reflexive.!!> This notion of the WlOODlICiowi as the 'superior' subject reappears in various pIaL:es in Dck:ure. In ~ and ~ Oeleuu discu.sses Nietzsche's claim that we: live in the: a~ of the 'modesty of cOllllCioUllllelS': 'To remind con3dou.mess of i~ necessary modeaty~. ~uze explains, 'is to take it for what it is: a symptom' (NP~). This is indeed an allusion to Freud', demand that 'we emancipate 0tlf1clves from the impoctance of the symptom of 'being ronKiOUll' (SE 14: 193), but Dcleuze'.s t:rliYeClOry here is not fundamentally Freudian. Delewe continues that con..,,:loWlnCllll is 'nothing but a syntpt.Om of a deeper u;msfonruuion and of the activities of entirely nOlHpirltuaI rorce:'!' , Wbat is this process of 't:ran.rd"ormarlOn', which wU1 be IOllledUng other than reprellllion and the struggle wilh the return of the ~ OeJeuze's NVI:.sdJ.e and Ph.ilmopkJ is deeply teleological in co~> deplcdng a twofold historical and ethical movement through the night of nihilism, and towards individuation. ~ 'produces the individual as its fma] goal, where spe<:iet

81

86 itself i1I 5uppr~' ~ NF

1"', while the rest (If the individual is their capuity m affirnl the eternal r¢turn of 'he same. In the rled!ive p:w:age. Delewe then

laW'1. B. Wauon published his fllJll(lU$ behavioUlilit au.adL on the very notion

or ins1:iI:Kt. causing instinct theory to retreat into the marlOW!, until its revival at me hand!. of the ethologists. Unl.ike the other speakers. JWlg ~ relatively MW to the theory of instinct. and he lenaciotl&Jy held to the theory he adopted

saw.;

Consciousness is defined less in relalion to exteriority (in termS oftht' real), tenn$ ofval~), This distinction is t'Henmu

r.blmID reladon to ~ (ID

w a general too<eplion of (onacioum~and the WlCOll$Cious, In Nietll!ebe conid,o~ it; ~ the conscioumes.'l of an inferior in relation to a 'JUptIDor to whkh tu- is lSUborc:Dnated or into which he is 'incorporat¢d', Con$ciOlL'metl$ is neYeT 5e~U!llesa,but the cofUlClomncss ofan .ego in relation IX) a iIeIf which is not itself conscious, (NP 39}

The$t: wot'dl mi:rtM the opening pages ofJung'~ A«m,. where the uncomciow is defined 31 an unknown \relf ~ \he ego is, by definition, subordinate to the ge)f and is related co tllike :a pan to the whole' (CW 9i: 5). At we wtn see ibonly. tbeTe is:a. 'mpeHgo' in Delell2'.e, but it is nat com:eived in Frc:!udian (ennll, and is closer m this jungian superior 'Self'. The final phase of indMdWilrion (in whidJ. according to lung, thfl ego and Self are related as earth 10 mn In the ~ iYiCem) also impb il m:il.1 overcoming at the negative Rlati01\$hip co th~ uncomdOUll. The following ~ could eaWy have been written by DeJenze. wilh it! emphasl$ <m the p~ctl~ i~ and posiri,,'lty. as wt:1) as 'superiority'. of tM UJlconsdom.

Thoe unoonscioUJ is nat just a ret:epta.:.Ie but is the matr:II of me 'IlB'Y thinlP dlat the t~m mind would like to Ix: rid of. We am go a w::p funbef' and

mal. I.he unconlll.i.ous actually £«'31eS 'Ml:II contenm ... it ~.ms to me f..>r more important to fmd out wh3t really COO~ttls the ~'t! activity of me uro::.ooliciOWl. The pooitive function of lhe unCOnscioUi is, in !.be main, merely dis\wbed by repre~OOl. ;and thi$ c:Mtll'I"blulce of iu natura.! activity iii perhap$ th¢ mott importl1l'l.t llOun:e of the ~;illed pll)'(:hogenic illneue:fl, !13'"

(CW8: 364)

Jung's Theory of Instinct In Tra'/ti~ mul ~ mut 1M LimiltJ. his breakdlrough ~«k of 1911-12, Jung de¥elop; a recapitulatory model of uneonJl("iow repedrioo. However. be !lOOn abandooed (M r~capJtulati9ntheory fur a meory of'uchelYJlC$' generated in part from 8crpm's tbeory of instinct. Jtmg's 19191ecturt00 '!nlltina and me Unconsciow.' Wti delivered at a symposium in London with the ~ title, jointly Ofga.nizerl by the Mtish ~hol.ogical Sodety, the Aristotelian Society .::md the Mind ~ . Some
at the conferente throughout thc- beha-viou.rist ~an. and indeed until the end Thu. le<:ture is siguitleatl t for any a«QUl.1.t of die development of Jung" thought. be~ the very term ~ is introduced fOT m(: fint lime in thu le-cture ,\$ an example of m8tilU;t, jung beginSl with the YlKCil mom's 'inCfedibly refined institld of propagation' {CW8: 132), In a complex opem:ioo happening only once Ul iU life, ~ modI ~ its ew inside a plant whose fl:ow.mI open for one niptonfy.~Haw am llud. an instinct be explained? .Jung:makes a confl:t!it!d cri1icitm of Darwin's explanation of insrintt a.nd dlren sap that 'other ways. of ~ de:rivi:ng from Berpon's philosophy. haw m-:ently been put fotward, laying StTC$$ on the f3ctM of intuition' (ibid.), Om M: hope thatJung win male any further &eMe of Berpon', theory? ln01itioo, Jv.ng expWnt, 'iJ. an unconsciow process in that its mult is the irruption inm cotllcioumeu of an UDconsdow conten't, .a r.udden id~ or "hunch·'.lung lI.lso • that it '~tem hlel a process.of perception·, but that 'the perception is um;Qnl!ci(lU$', InU1ition, more ~cificaJly. is th(! 'UI'lCOO!lcious, parpo$i\le apprehension of ll. highly complicated situarioo', The notioo af lm 'unconscious apprehension' does not Jl'l.ilk.eo senft', but If we ~ thlt]ung makes the- eftor at a fflUlt of W influ.. CRee af Bergson (who:.Uso makes ~ wne error, p. 56 above), dim wt: a.n a1SQ hQp.e that our OOl"'l"«uon of Bergson'I theory in the last chapter might also smoothen our reception ofJung's them')' of lntitinct. Having eglltblished a Bergsonian fu!:mework for hJ£ theoPf of. instinct. jung now imrodUCe$ the possibility that the f~which accompany the actualiza. tion of instinct could be 'Q. priori, inborn funns of "intuition'" (CWS: 133), of lri!l career,

cr,

Just as we have been oompeUed co postulate the concept of an instinct deter· mining or- 'regulating our COrl5CIoUi ~ , 1J,O, in order to account for w uniformity;aad reguWity of our peKepdons, we must have rec~ to the of a factor determining the mode of apprehension. It ill this faaor whkh I call ~ arcbe~ or primordial irrIatJe. The primordial iJIlace might suit4l.bIy be: deticrlbed as the instimti ~ of iUIlj; or as the self-portrllil: of thE inldnct, in eucdy the 83IIle way at cooiCioumew it an in'w.vd perception of the ol!jectlve Iifu..proces.lO, (ibid.: 136) rorr~lllted coo("epl

b thiI jUltt Iii hapb;uard 80ldering together ofBergscmian and Kantiarl elCp~ !lions, 'W:ithOut real thought. Of is Jtmg getting at liOJDething? What po&:sible connection could there be berow.een Berponi3n mtnition (symparhy) and Ranti;m forms
89

8S

Biological Models of Archetypes The fact: malm the late 19205Jung intr~ his ll(tfion of an:berype within the Ipec:UiC COllEen of :II synthem of me Be~ and Kantian notions of intuidon has been Itnngdy <JVf:r1ooked byJungi,am,. ~o have tended to f«wo on relation of the theory of ~ to the opposition between Darwinism and 1..am.lu:ckimt. The problem of how exactly 'archetype'S' :might be l:nherired has dominaU!d the llteni:ure.jung's !It:iW9Dent.! on an:hetype5 are ~ obscure, and are ~ on a DUl'DheT of~: biological, pbenomenological, metaphyfieat, tm.nllCendentil. historieaJ. De'lewie IBlkY have come a::J"()S& Jung'& aodon of archetype while researching the theme of repedtion. 'Not only are at~ apparently, impreal:ons of ~ted !:¥pial ~ but. at the same time, mer behave empirk;aUy!.ike agent! that rrn.d ~ the repeWion ofthes.e same expeJienc4l.' (CW '1~ 69-70). In th{': ~ to <:QmeJung gcnera.ted a number ofdifferent ~ about htrw and·wby a.rehetyplllimages (:aIIUII1ing they exiIted.) were repeated 3Crol'llI millennia in individual ~. Jungian& have never been cetta.m about bow to inmpret his theory of :m:betype!l. Some bse l1lJUed that there ill no :real theory w. archetypes. and to suggest that the lern1 ill anything omer than metaphorical is to panicipaft in 11 ronspirat:y wMlle time is up (C'.arr~ 1994). Othen, mc.:h 'lIS Anthony ~ or Jean IC.w:»t, have broken down and vepar.w!'d out Jung'& nriou£ fNmulatioM of the nature of archetypes and mOlJiCn to detend one of the formulat.i<:m! in the .light of <:ontcmporary evolutionary theory or psycOOlogy (SteYem 2Ot~ Knox fOOO,).'f'f From his first explonuloDli of the impc:IlKlnai ~us.jung 'Wat aware that the easiest way to account for lItthe~ wu to present them as aauallt.in.herited phylogenetic I."etidues. Afu':r aU.,1..ama.rdiJm WD oot at aU foreign to ply(:bOlWalysis - it w:a:s becoming increasingly €enttal to it. In T-. aM 1bboo .F:reud had arsued for 'the inheritan~ of ~hil:'al dUpofitions' (Sf. 1.li: i&8): the ~ C'o"ent of the killing of the primal father had altered the make-up of the minds of the deecendanb, even if such diJpositions 'need to be ~ tome ann of impcrm in the I1fe of !.hili indMdual before they caD be roused intoacn.WDPCrabon' (ibid.). In ~lJftdSJmbolsJam.gaffimulbe ~ theorytbQt 'on~oorrespond& in psychology ~ ph"'~ gmetil' (CWB: IS); 'i$ich ~ ~ hand in band with ~. When in his J917 euay 'On the Psychology of the UncomcioWl' Jung safll that 'It seems to me lblt the oripl {of the archetypes] can onty be explained by _WIling lhem to be depo5itll of me constantly repeated experiences of humanit:y' (CW 7: 69), nothing could be more lamlll'Ckian. Ho~, In the aame lathe had already warned off!lUCh an interprewion: 'I do not by any means use:rt the inhftitanee of ideas., but only of me possibility of sw:h ic:reall, ",iili:h is somethingdit'fe1:ent' (C'W?: 65), In llUS he was even more dtplidt: 'h ~hould on no lU:COunt be I:maglned r.hat there ale $\I(;h thingll lIS l~ id«u.. Of there caD be no quemon' (CW 10: JO). Ibus from the beginning it looks as if Jun, W8ll ~g to dmv a. ~n

me

mat

between 'archetypes as such" a5 gmetic ~ and ':arclietypallmagei'.

which ~ these diapofition& in imaginary form at the ootogenetic level. In his 19M essay 'On the Essence of the Psychical', he continued to rake this anDL2marddan line: 'Att;het)lpeS are typical formI of belm400r which. once th~ become oomciol.ls, Aatutally present tb~ as ~ tmd ~ li~ ~ thing else that ~el a content of <:onll(iouane8$' (C'W 8: 221). He holds that they are .~' of ideas md. images, not dlemse1vel ~ and ~ (ibid,: 251), In dUt - , JW11 ~ on to correlate thete innate $tr'UC'tW"e$ with the etholOBkal ~()n of 'inborn "patterns of behavlwr'" and :ir. .. tbk a.pproach that ha been ala.en up by AntltOll'}' Swvem, who ~ chat ~ sbOl.1ld be lUldentDod u'phyjop:oetically acquired. genome-bound uniu of intOnnadon which prognwmc the lndividuai to beha\'e in certain spedfic ways while permitting such behaviour to be adapted appropriatelv to environmental circunumnc:es' (~Il$!002~ 00>' Foc inswu:'e, the in8tina for attachment ill accompanied by the archetype of the mother;. In ~ ~ 5tevelJll and Price luneR mal what e'\'!t'1ludonary pl)'ChoJoPts ~ refer to as 'evolved psycbological mechanisma' {Di!.wd

au.}.

or 'psychobiological

mlIpOllIe patterns' (Paul Gilben) are lJilin1at.ely identical to I'tbat jung lfU i»

lacing widl his notion of archet}'pe. 'An:hef.)'pel are ~ as ~ units which C"\IOtved through natural ededion and wl:tith ¥e ~ fur determining the behavioural characteristics .. well u the ~ and c.ognime ~ typkaJ of human beinp' (Ste"nI and Price 2000: 6).H ~ ifJung was already retTac:ting in 1918 h1s l..amareIWm !iuggesrion of ~ ~ year that archetypeS are 'depoili!l of the comtandy repealed experiente$ ofhumanity', then. hill turn to BeTp:m in 1919 ind.ic'.un tlw. he al50 was reluaant to go ~t down iii. Darwinian path. 'MoreO'RT, deJpite his more eth~inclined SIalerM!D1liI bter on, • late as 1955jung still opted (0 explain the distinction ~ om;h~ and ~ Image in terms consistent ""ttl hb earIet· ~ approllldt, even referring 1.0 the prover· bial wasp and eate~ '1bis lCrm is not meant to denote an inherited idea, but .rather an l.nherlt«l ·lllOde of ~ functioning. corresponding to the inborn way in which the chid ~ froto the eu. the bird bu.iIds i1:5 ne'8t.. a ceriain kind of wasp Jtin.p the motor pngtioD of the ~ and Nit find their way to the Bertnudal.ln other 'WOrds. it is a. "pattern of behamur'" {CW 18: !)l8),5 The echo ofFahre:and Beqpon's 1'IIlIIiIp ~ Iha.tJung baill. not ~ted hinwelf entirely from his earlier ideas. Some concempo.rary Ju.ngia:ruI argue that 3I'~ Me DOl geneticaDy programmed but are i:mk:ad llpariou:mpor.al lICIrenwa Ulit eme~ .in the ~lopnlenw~.In his 1918 paper 'The BDte of the Un~\ ills * r ~ g that there <:an be 'no queaUOl1' of .a. I..amarctia:n ~ of ~ thatJw'lg

g\':le$ on to say that 'there are,

h('W~I\ ~

paq;ibiJi.

ties ofide», ., JW'iDt'i co.ndilicmll for ~uction'.'I'Irls has bMn ~ to

:indi<:a.tle tttm:Jung t.awm.rs a ~ ~opmenla1bl view of ardletypes. Befure t1.1tDing to a recent eumple of thiw. vie'w. it is worth recalling that ewM Kon.rad :I...orenz, who b2d rmgor ~ti~ about Jung's work. 'became

91

90 receptive to an i:nterpr~Ultkm of the arrhetypes which itreSSed the function of the imagination in £he ~lopmeJ1l of insbll(:tual beha";Qu.r,$li He CaJDe to grant that Jung's thwry could be defended for human beings, on condition that the images ~ unrlenwod ~ df'\,~lopmil'ntal phenomena. The key differem:e between animal and human being is thaI 'man has the power of vi$uali$3tiDn' (EVID1S 1975: 59}. It is the human cognitive capacity for ~isual. imagination that ~ (be innate mechanical schema. (0 find symbolic and imaginary expTeWon. '[The] innate' .eleating mechaniMD ' .. combined with the human fu,cu)tr of ..1su3lising ~ dreaming about a situation - resulu in phenomenal reactions which are more 01' IcSll identiud with Jung'$ concept of a:r~ I mink archet:ypes are innate releasing mechani$il\il invested in visualiIlaoon, in the fantasY of !.he individual, MaP I:an, mhis fa.tuasy, perfunn ~ U wi&h hi:m6elfwhich an animal QnI1ot' (ibidJ. In Arr.kdjpt, AU4dJ1'MIi. An.a.lJris:}trtrgio.n ~ tm4 . . ~ Mind (2003). Jean Knox generates a developmenw theory of a1dletypeJ as im~ schemas. Relying on collabora.tiW: work. be~ cogn~ saentlsU and de'llelopmenta1i~tst she ~ ~t the earliest ~ in the child's deYelopment of itS iniormatlon-proces5ing capabilities are structured by basic. 'image ~c:bemlUl' (ruch .u path. up-dOWJl, containment, force. pan-whole, link; see Mandler 1992: 591), so that although 'there may be nO' ~U(h thing 3$ an archet)pal mother', !.hen: it itwcad 'an ~scbt'maofcomainment' (Knox ~OO3: 67), Thus althougb l'l.1.taChment i.i as ~tial for Knox 3Jl il ill fur Stevem. for the fonner the Jpccitially a:n::hetypal cm:lcriburion to attlchment ill mediated by a set of ~ a Jcondition&. 1ntlKtU'e attachment, for instance, is 'likely ro activate the i.n:l.tlgt' ~ of "f()f'(:'e'" or ~5p1itting~' (ibid.: 68). There is much to J:&ommend Rnox.'!l emphasis on the non'Conceptual spatiotemporal cOlldioons <Ji. dl"'¥elopmcmt. but her rtmdWlion Is extreme: she beli~8 that ~ exclusion of ~tic repre&f::ntanonll from gtmetit inht:ritance ~ that :ill s:ym'bok content of the archetypes be thtown out.- leaving ju!t spatiotempolid structureS, But whatever JUll3's notion of archetype wa$y it ~m$ to bave involved a lot more than mere sp:adotempor..il gestalts. Kno~ ttitici2:es ~ fur attributing' too much r~tnaW:ma1content' to arche-types, and proposes that '''Mother'' is 3 oonc('pt, but w(' image !iChema of containment~. the bodily experience of ~ing held and the accompanying pbysiological liefill2.dons of 'lor'3.l"Dlth, t:Ommrt and security. are not initially ~boli(:' (Knox 2003: 64). There is an Oppositioli between 'repre.Sifntalion and 'intuition' at work here which un be problema.ti.red :and tn\IlSf:ended by appealing to Kiimti:an philosophy, by whkh bom Jung :and Deleuz.e were h~ influenced. Although Knox :and other Jungian! frequently acknowledge Jung'& debt to Kant, they usually overlook the ~ structure chat Kant givu to tognition - not just conC«!ptual rcpresentatio1u and Intuitions. but also JdeaJ. the prob~ms that stimulate the mind in w fim pia.ce. For both lung and O<'leuu, I.be notlol'l 0( Idea is an eeendal component of Kant's (and their own) cheaty of Cl:t8n1' don. Untkr cenain ClrCWll8tanCe$, Ide:u even 'detennine the shape of &pEe

and time, to' the pgd1r that the entire world appears to Oecotlloli:' an egg, .an embryologkal jl?Jl!lOrJurn which serves all the stage of the 'wbde the.3,l:res' of individuation {cf. Leibniz 1714: # 75; also DR ~l. 2441. .

InstinCi:$ and the Imagination These 'a priori, inborn fOrJm of "intuition"" Dy! jung, are 'the ~ of perception and apprebension. whkh an~ the n~~ Q primideterminants of all psYchic processes' (ibid..: 133). Au a.rt"hC'type thU$ cannot be an 'i~' in the empiricalllen!le. but Is rather an (1 Jri"i~patioccmpora.tstructure, a way of Hving mspace and time, The afCbe~~ $paboternporal fol'1m which con"tram percepriOIl and appreb.ensi.:>n, allowing in~rinct to fulfil itself in its <won 'i.:mem~· sensorium.

Jl.lSt &'l wt' ba~ been compelled to postuJa[~ the (.'Oflc-ept of an imtinct determining or regulating our conscious actions, so, in oruer }Xl acrOOni for the unifofnut)' md regu1ari~ Qf OW' perceptions, we must have r ~ ro tilt. ro~ concept of a factor determining the mode of apprehension. It ~ tJ:u. bt;tor which I c.alJ the archetype or primordial iJ.lrage. 'the pnmord.m.l i.mage' might suitably be de&cribed as the i7Uti7ld's ~ ofifs#, or aa the self-portrait of We umin.c:t, in exacdy me same as (()neciousness an inward perception of!.he o~ecrive lif.e-proceSll. {Ibid.: 1$6)

war

u

At this. poinI in jung'$ work., therefure, the concept of aJ:cherype is a 5~ifi· cally spatioremporal struet:ure of perception. In a 1918 essay, 'The R.)le of the Unwndous' ,Jung specifies lb. archetypes are 'in.I:we ~bililiel ofideas, d priori conditiorn for fan~u(rion ... Though thel1e innare oondiri01l3 do not produce any CQIlteilU of lhemeel~ the\' give definite form to (ontentA that have already been ~~. fCW 10: 1O} 'I'he mention of' a priQri corr ditions for fantasy-prodnctit;m' can be deciphered as; ge!lrurlng to a pOll&ible connection with Kant's theQry of ptodu.::dwo imagination. In Di/J1mW lmIi ~.:md in hill work on Kant, ~leuze spends considerable time mowing the role of me producr:lve il'll.alJ'inarion in delerItrining the Jbape of space and time for the' finite beill¥' Deleuze's aim is to show how the prodw::tiw: ~nation is ultimately a receptade ror the ham~ of prolr tetMtic ldeu, beyoad the nonns ,of the oonCCl>luaJ ~atanding, Could Jung he pointing, however oblicurely, to :lome poliIlible synthesis of & ~ instinct and Kandan productive imagination? Even though Jung's theor-etical ~ons iU'e obecure, Deleuze would certainly M'l'e real them ~th interest. and the faa r.haJ: he went on to take up the theory of arcber:ypet (panphraang this same lect.ure ofjung's) indicat£'S thar he ~ an opport'lmh:y for theoretical :W.wnce here. Gtven the probk'ms we ~ncounu.-red in 8erpon'£ thMl)' of imtina., i:r is possible that Deleuze perceived that a Jungian modification of the set':ond intC'rpre~n ofBe~ imtint:t mlgbt be the wa:y [0l"JI!r.lJ'd MoR' :u:tltely, in order tOr the insliru:t l:Q romwmnatt- itseH" through

92 ~bu1illtk rolUcio~ of the image, f'epreaentatiornd (;onKiowness h~ to he ~ Now thit suppression ~"QUld obl,i(lU&Iy be more problematic in human beings., whose ctm!!ciowmetll ia dominated by inl~lli genu and its habits. Like 8l:rg!0Il and Deleuze,Jung also believes that humall beings do not have mstinctJ in lIa1ne way that animals qo. In fact., 'it is man's turning awar &001 i.rurlnct - his opposing hiImelf to inmnct - that cre-citei comciouaneu'.~i CM.Iizcd cOrulCiou&ness emerges with the differentia-

'lWukl

me

pm

mat

tion of the ego if. the result of an increased re~e on lnt:elJigem. (;Ofl. oc1oum.es4- ForJung, the consequence of the differentiation of 1:he ego is the tendentia1 •dc-
me

with the former, but has more philoJlophk~sopbilllieatian.31 It can be argued that De1euze takes up this model in his theory of problematic lde;l$ in ~ and &pt!tjtitm. Odt:WiIC's insight i!J to lee bow !:hit .mggeedon can be connected up wbh Jung's ~ eb"ewhere that arche~pes in humans take the form of ~ which ttan.sce'Ild the capabilities Qf intelligent coMcioumeu. neleure mOW'll bow Kant'!> thfflry of problematic Ideas \$ th~ narrow gap through which the i1utincrual image can return - by right - to baunt human i:nteUiglmce. n This jungian conttplion as {;onsi!tent with the leut florid interpretation. of Bergson's theory of iosUnct ~ted in the' _ .chapter. When the intelli.. gence enoounteIs a problem, a pp would open up fur the return of lin 'iNtinct that bas bec.ome dWnt.erelted, telkolUcious, capciblt of reflecting upon it6 object' (Bergson 1001: 176). SomnambuliWc ComcioUlll1ess, there.. lOre, is not necessarily just produced by I:t'aUl'nalic events, but also :Ml!elU itself by e.xpJoiting the problematic: hola in mreDigence, re&}'l()uding creatively through the ~ lmagination. If there ~ inlll:illCtual periodidtiei and ~ at work in th~ human be1ng, then they can only be activated under panicuIar ideal and intuitive conditions.

Kant, Jung and Sub-Representative Intuition

lung indioua

in a n~r of places that he undeman£k himllelf to be a I.lmtian in hi! app:roach to the mind; he e'¥eIl claimed thlll nobody eoold undentand his. withOut having first undentood thdr ~ ba. Despite his terminological Obscurity and careleslne!ill, Jw:&g may h<m.: betm the only plIyCholo1fist w set about consmJ.cting a 'tramoc::endental· theory of the

wow

unconKiom. In his 191? T:niJtocl;

Le~ in

Londoo> he b

~

\\) ~

the conformity of his notion of the uncorulcious "'ith .Kantilm e~ 'The ego is the subject. of all penonal a.e:t.5 of CX'JUlIci~The relation of ll: psychic CODlCnt to tb~ ego furms the criterion of its oonscio~ fur no

content can be corulCioull

~

it ~

~~ted to

a subject' (CW 9ti~ 8}.1n

order to count ;u representatkm3, aU ~tation& must potential.ly be able to be brought into rebtion to a ClOfIJlcious ego, Kantian phUOllOphy is often held to be inimical In :a. theory of the u:n<:oDliCi<1Ut>. FOt' Kant, there: ill a tran.. scend.entallU~t. an '1 think' that mUlt ;M;oompany an my reprellentatioru; (Kant 1'182/1787: .8131). v.rd.bdm Wundt. a ~hologillt influen<:ed by Kant'll meaty of d-wtlSciousnes& or ~ceprlm:1, state& that the very idea. of an 'uncomciom representation' ( ~ Vm:luUuTlf) is incoherent, as it is mlpolllible to c()ncei~ of a reprellentation that nobody h4'J (d. Wundl 1908-11: m, !54-6. 489). There are lUlconllC10Ull physiological RaUlS, but these du not involve represenmtions, Juog and Deleuze are sensitive to this charge, dur: ~I) their own inoorpt> radom of the pbilolIophy of Kant.. To the ftnt o~eetion,Jungcounlle1"S with the parry that the unconscious must in mat case be amsideret1 CO be sub-representative: 'it. is not a question of MrepresentaUonI" but of sketebes, planll or images' (CW 8: 1$). Deleuze too talks of the necessity of '!lubrepresencational dymuniams' beneath representational thought (DI 98; d 2M}. Deleure':s ~ aM ~ is first of all a book a,ga:i.lut ~ iatitm, and in it DelelUA! puts fonGrd the theory !hat 'spatio-t.emporal dynamum,,' are llt the basis of the dynamics of the psyche. The problem of the unroosdous would therefore be badty posed as long u it is fran'l¢d in te:l'ms Qf repretentadon. On the In.m of wh;t.t we halle gleaned from Bergson

about tim~, ~ haNe a new quettion: :Are pamve syntheses or spariotemponl dymmtilml 'Unl:~ ~ ttte, Me Mft~11tseeIDJI unlikely: a& lk!rgsollllB.'Y'. it iJ perfe(;tIy poll$ible to be e:ooscious of duration and in dis(lrd.er.l of time such as paramnesia. the mbje<:t does not bck cODllCiousness. On the other hand, if these spariotemporal bctors are in therrtllelves non<:onrepma.J, then they also annat be rendered ~ for conscioU8D.e1J8

(mediau:d by t:0Ilttpttra.l no:rm.s). We can aeti\-"Cly marripulate representa· dons in die mind; Delltuze might even admit, with Kant, mat in a formal sen~ we are the JUbj«t of our conceptual repr~ntations. Bul when it comes co spatiotemporal &CION. his point is that we are S'td1ft!ct tD tl»mL Time passes, duration accumulal1el. memory elndes us. d6j:l w immobilizes us, space (distance, rises and m.tIa, wrtigo) encloses ar threateN nil,. without our being abJe to do anything :Wout it. The apocalyptic thought of the end of me world, md the p ~ it intpmes on the pJ1CtlUl( moment, ill an example- of a spatiotemporal dynamism in ~d experiCnce1il. Thele ways of in.habiting space :and time are overlook:d in normal ex;peri.. encE:, as there space and time tend to be ~ subordinated to f1t1» timJ neem of the understanding or intellect.. But their pure fl)l"IIlA are mible at the I.imiIS of normal experienre. DelelJ.l'.e oonrellds that they are 114 ~ t:ial for understanding biological development M they are foe lMnW dhor~ den. The embryo lives through in~ ~ t s in the womb wbicb would destroy adult organi.snu; .$imibrly, the llWTOtic and ~ are <::aught up in spatiot.emporal &IJ'UC~ tba1 pre
me

94 well-o~d,

p:ractieal elOSlenc.f. 'in effe<:t. 3 pure !pau!YlempQr.d d}'1umiml, witb i~ ne«:lliary participation in the forced movement, can be experitmcM onht at the borders of ~ liveable, tmder conditions beyond which it would entUl the death l)f any weU-conSbtuted subject endowt'd with independen<;e and and time. When they are lived through. the consciOU!lness involved is that of A dream. 'If the (spatiotcmporal} dynamism is externdl t() concepn. and, all such. a schema it is internal to ldelU and as $ut:h. a drama or dream' (ibid.). If Oeleuze'g, theory 1$ defell.liible. then it is of immense importanCe: net ontv doet it solve foUl old enigma in Kant's pbilosaph~' (thus helping to complete Kant's Copernican revolution), bm it £1m illuminate the sp:uiotemporal stIUClllJe of mental disorders, ~kuu gi\<~ an imprompm, but all too rare example of what il 'larval SU~;ec.t· ili in the tfucW1iWI1 afret' his paper 31 the French Society for Philosophy in 1967 (''11K' Method of Dnmarisation'); Take the C3lle of:an o1:»essiYe ClIfllpuWve" where the sut~e<:t bep5 dU:inkIng~ handkerchie& and ~-els a;re perpemally cut. fint ill twO. tMn t.h~ halves:are tut again~ the cord for the bell in tbe dining room ~ regularly shortened, and the gell'J t:l.mer to the ceiling; everything ~ gnawed at, miniat.urised. put intO OOUll. This is indeed a drama, m the Km;c: that the p~ organises a $~, agitateS it, while in ipace he ~ ~ an Idea of the UJl.COUscious, An ang:tY fit is a dr2matisation chat ~gell. brval $u~iect6. {Dr 108:3'1

ben

thu

O~Wnal n~ Ius a spatiotempOral (Qnn: the shrinking and CUtting of the bdI are a $fllUiote1nporal dynamism, and are 'lived' at a different level than the evel;'day ~enC(! of the patient. 'Everyday life is full of dramari'lat:ions. Somt' psyrnoanalym ll.iIe the word, I believe, to deilignat:e the mO\'emenrs by ...i \kh logkaJ thought Is dis&oIved In pure spano-temporal determinaooIU, lU in falling~' (Dl 108).

'Kant, Jung and Super-Representative Ideas WuuduJ..so r.ril.ici1:e5 hif teadler Fe.;hner', 'l11}'Stical intllition' of mpen::omci.OUl :md subcoNci.ous mental states, which he say! borders on the hypothesis of double WtuclOUSlle:l1J.:lIl This lau.er is impossible ~ a plurality of ('.QI"l. lIci(j'lllm~ 'wQuld have to be mnwmneow;ly PRSetlt in one and the ~me inmvid:u:al' (ibid.: ~n.), In his 1954 essay 'The Nature of the ~b.e', jung give! a review of the h:im:lJ:y of 1M ooriOIl of the lJIlCOOlIt('ioU$ mCetman phi· losophy and p$ychology, refe:rring ;u length to Wundt's tare rejec:rian of the con<:ept; (CW 8~ 16:!-5), There he ~ 10 Wundt's charge about double consciou.mMl, He cci~ Wundt fur not $Uing that conllcionsness em alternate without bci~ ~double" Although De1elli:e did llot respond {Q Wundt.,. his ~ph3sis on the merely formal, empty stnJI::ture of the l:r.'inIKendentlll ruJJj«:C. as op~ to the empir·

la1 tgV (~ DR 58. 87) would have helped hUn disarm the objection, The synthesi1lttg !It'.fUCtUl'e of cOnscioumesl ~duccrl bY Kam maY include a plurality of empirical egos or selves. The artinldes of the ego may change oYer a liferime, for lmtantt, Of' even in a m.gle day; a& long at! some 501"t of Il}'IIthesis ootween these egos can be made, there i:> no contradiction to Kanliatt epi$temoJogy. In Karl AmeIits's rormut.ation, 'th~ persi5tent reprellentation of3l1 -r w need not be the representation of a permanent "1 (Ametik.$ 2000: 1M). However. [)elelUe does have an aa:Qum of me 'super.egok' destination of Cognition. In the 'paradox of inner sense' in dIe Cri.t~ (If l'urt RP.I.stm, !Jty only at! that of an Other' (DR 58'!. Deleuze thU$ sugg'e!t5 that il is the very In:lpollliil>tlitv of appropriating the 'I think" il;i one '$ own thai: Elli ow the guararllet' of l.tJ; purity, and it is thi5 that helps us ascend from ~ Jtage of ~c ol1eclon to that of 'r.epetil:ion'. In Differmce and &prl:itwn I>eLeuze I:U1'm (0 Rkoeur's aCCOunt of the :relauon of ~hOOnalysis to the tJ:1il.rJSCelldnw '1 think', Ricoeur 5U~1:5 that Freud's aa:ount of narcissism ~ that any ~om. cidence of the '1 think' with its owtl being 11> ~ open to $l:I1lpiaon that it i£ a false. narcissistic rio 'As liOO«t U the aporlktlc trn.th, I tJsiM. 181R ~ unem:i. it is blocked by a pseoolH:\'idtm<::e; an abortive Cogito has ~ ttken eN: place of the fim ttulh of refiectton, I think. I tmr.. 'Deleuze and Rkoeur agreethat the fundamental me:5~ of Kant's.. HusserI's and Freud's theories of subjectivity is. that there is no ~ of the '1 think' - it is apodlcm: yet at the same time always inadequately presented. There Ii alwaya the J:lOI58wility that I am decrivcd about the purity of any act of self
91 the t.ranIlCendenw 'I' b concerned. we Otlly tNer meet a mere 'consciousness ofsvnthew'_That is: the mere awareness that there is a synthetic process going OfL 8y denying m i.mmedtate awarenelS of 'our' identity with the subject of this synthetic proceu, Kant is thWl asking us to mMe on iIit:Jltijic5ti<m ",-ith the 3Ctive ~pontaIleOuS 1k)Ul'<:e of this synthesis as an Other. 'The su~t can .•. rep~lCnl It$ own lporuaneity only lill tbat ohn Oilier' (DR 5,8). To paraphrase San" the subject would tbm be the 'lou, He. She or It that thinks: but never the mM (.elf or ego). Moreover, as a tmnscendenml philowpher, DeleW"£ reeogn.lzell that he lIlill needs $ome po!lllibility of an active, spontaneous subject, in Qrder to pound the uititnatc unity of syntheses. .But Deleuze statea that the ultimate nature ('in and for itself') of this active gyntherlis is in fact only revealed in the thotJlbt of the eternal retu.m. In ~ rm.d P~'J,

Deleu:ze openly ~nts Nitemcb.e'. notion of eternal return as the '~ bon' or Kantian ethks. He write! that 'the eternal return givea tboe will a rule u rlgorottl at the Xlmdan one , •• As all e&d.::31 thought, the eternal return is the new fonnuhnwn of the pr.t.Ctp synthe$U: ~ aliIl, will it ,~JtIdt <1 wa, JhIJt ymi rJJso unll Us~' (Nt> 68~ DR 7). ~'ll modification (diltCWlsed on p. 37 above) does not ne<:~y coUapse the super-egok aspeC( of me notion of eternal return, but it doer. place It beyond lhe reach of law. In J.);jfmmt and ~ ~leuze OOlUlnlcfJi a relationship of super-nprn-

,IN

sentariortril '.J>roblematic Ideas'

to

sub-representarlonal spatiotemporal inten-

sitie., mediated by conceptual represenwion, The path of individuation n~v invoh:a '3. lem 'tnm~ndent exercisell' (J( the mind au:ried OUt breyf:ond ~N:6Pwal. represenr.aUoo, in which un<:OI'laClOUS Ideas e18U~ to !hape and mmape the eontd.oumeM of the subject (who 13 both a tbin.king and a plWive s~ect). 'The notion of the prob~ Idea i$ altio to be bmd in Jung, as weD as in RanL [n 'The S«qo of Life' Jung writes that while 'd'ie ~k lite of cMJi!led man' hall become do~ by inteUlgen~ at the expense of inllbnel, mtelJi.. gena: iuelfbu its own limits, which in turn alll)'1olll inIlidnetual ~ to return. The problem with intell~nce ia that it ~ mcOW1ten. intractable problems. 'h is the growth of <'''Onac1OWlnmlll which we ~ thank wr the exktenc:e of problerm . Allohl il$ we are lltiI ~ed b1 nature ~'e are llnCotUICIDUS, and we live in dle !JeCurity of inmnct which ~ no problems' (GW 8: 3'8a). Jillli'li adv.utc~, for~. Il1UM lie in this ldendfLcation of a 'pr~c' ~ of human irueUipt:t!t r.brouIh wbich the irulai:ru::wa1 futm of (On!lCiousneM ow rewrn. ~ lakes up Jung'. model in hi! theory of problematic Ideu in ~ SNl ~ 'W;u, DOt 0Ire of the most important points ofJa:mg't theory ~·to be fuwld here; the force of "queuiofling'" in the unoomcious, the «mceptioo of we un~ .. an unt:~iQmof "problcm6" :wd "wU'" Drawing 001 the (~afthb led. Jung to the diK~ of a pt'<JCei5 of dlffttenciacion more profound man the ~ ~ (see ('1'ltJ! p~ ~J tJte ~ mul tJw UII"",· ~» (DIt.: HI). Tuthd away in dooUlOU!. this is :an impoItant tctierenee. taking us beyond Deleuze', more e
Qf problematic Ideas, to Kanrian and Leibnizian coneeption& of non-representational thought, :Bmh. Jung and Delcuze appear to ~ that th~ PfOCe'iIj of indMdwuion is driven by a series of enA:~", 'I\Ilth problem! wb.i.ch tie '\UKQllKWwJ' in the rtlllC that they elude the rep~tadbDalw:tMty of ~•.•~ unconscious . . . COD(ef1lII probleml and queuiQNI which can never he redw:~ tn the great appositions or the 0YeI'3.D effects that are ttllt in con· scitmmellS' (DR 108), A problem am dude conJciousflew in a very panicub.r way. A real problem ill a pecutiar kind of cognitM: ~«t, Ul dlal the thin.keT is never surewbether they have correctly posed the probkm. The problem may be exp~ in rep~~teml6, but if it reaDy • II problem. cJu:.n ane bas to tre:lt one's represeutaQona1 framing t:Jf the problem _ ~ and leep returning to the 'underlying' problem. ~ on the lookout for a freSh perspective_ There .. thus a aenae in which agen\lineproblcm i8 >J>Ub.. reprellentational', <:'ren if it is ~ wlVQlib t~ repraen~ 1t is a problem ~ it has O<>t found a place within .rM ~ 11£ ~ dOD, NOW; it roDIdoosnes is defined through the capacity ibr' ~ ~taOOn, then it is wlid to mne that problems are 'unconlldous.' in the aria teWJe that ill ~ they hOlt"er ouuide the order of ~1ationll. ()ne cannot be COtllK'ious (If them in the llliUDe way U ODe ~ conadous of an ol:?iect of a ronceptwlJ representation. The problem breaks through first tV 3. problem jlr conscious representation. and then (Jf a problem dw. poin~ to lIOIDething neglected in the very conceptuaf hienrchy itself, the acdvation of which 11 bound to spell 3.n ordeal of some sort. ~leuze does not rnak.e it dear bow mongIy we are to take the notion of 'problem' here. There are perhaps three powers of mtr3Ctability to- a. problem. FbI. ~r.hiDg could be empirically problematic. due to a lack of empiricai mO'W~. tot inAantt. Second, there can be prob1em& Of' ordeals that are pan:ic:ul&r 10 a pa.nkubr stage of indi:vid:uation. Leaning on Bergson's theory of dumtion, ~lam: roggc5lll that individual development is punctU31ed by a se'ries of intemive thresholds whkh must be oW'r<:ome to reach me next plateau of inten.lity, Third, an ['eI'the1eu tnust be tJwugIJt (Kant 1782/1787: A254/BS10), But be>i'ond thMe le'feb of intnlclabiliry - empiric:a1, tranKendental and genetic - there 18 a final approach to the 'prob1emadc' unconscious: !IOIlIt: sort of contemporary. lttheologica1 ~, a cak:uiWl of the c:osmoe i~1f • Problem: there are recurring aIlWllons in Oeleuze to the traditions of Neopla> ronimJ, Henneticism, the Renabaante magie, the occult. but a1waylt In the <:.ontnt. of the death of the God or monotheism. Here we shall fOCUI briefly on the empirkal and transeendenml senses of 'problem In the folWwing two dlapters. we wiU proceed taw:iI.rd.I the 'e:soteric' di.mensionfl of the problem. and attempt to shed light on Deleui:c'. suggestion thatJungianism is gem'alog~ ically re~ to IA:ibnimn ~ . j.

99 'The empiri('ult inurpretation

j!

uiburion h~re is to nOlke bow much weight Kant is quiedy putting on the theory of Ideas.. In Dijfrnmt.:f1arui. &ptt.iiftm, he seizes on Kant's mggescon ihat Ideas are to be taken :IS 'problematic OOl'lcq>u'. and goes on to ll'Uggest that jf ldea$ are 'problematic' that might be becallllC 'conveneh-, problems are Ideas' (DR 168). PerMpt mCTe ...e not jUlt thr:~e ttk.u - perhaps evc;ry genuine ~ l4L$ the struct:J.u1e thaI Kanf auribl.lted to Ideas.. Perhaps the activity of conceptual <:6 intellectual kt~edge is itM::lf already conmlioned by another type of c0gnition: ihe poeing of proble.rr6. After all, didn't Kant 5aY in the Prebce to the tint ~ that 'reason ... compeIl~l Jtal'1ll'e to answer itl questions' (Kant 1787: BJriv)}

the most general in scope. and the lea...t

de(~. 1>0 is l.tiefW to mtroduce the buk Idea. According to thrs

Ulterptl.$tti<m we could say that anything can be a pt'Qb1em ali long fJ$ it eludes representational cognition for ~ period of duration. This it; a con· ception ohmromciol1S problerns, Thm, if a fiell5ation, an ~t or an image resisted subsumption by c.onsdous repr~ntation, then for Jung and Deleuz.e. that would initiate tbe attt:mpc [.() exprclill it in the non-representational meam ava.ilable to the p~he (unage or symbol. drf lbe understanding' (CW 6: 438, d. ~; ct. Kant 1974: 97) 'fJ for K3tJl, he says, an Idea is 'a trn:rl.Kcn&nta1 ~pt which $ liuch ~ the boun4h of the expenencC!llble' (CW ~ -138}.:Kant sugge/ll:'l that Ideas are 'problematic coru::epts', bec:au.~ their ~e<::t& cannot be known or experiena:d. but ~eJ.eSll fI'tUS1be thought (Kant 1782/1'787; MS41B310). Jung explicitly tires K3nt', warning that 'altboop we must say of dle o::anSlCendentll \;Qftcept.s of ft".aI$011 dl.a.t tbej art ~ Ufetu. dI:Js is not by any means to be taleu as signifying lila! they are SUp«f}UOUll and "oid' (A329/B386). Although lde'dll may only be 'regulari~' a.s op~ Kt 'comtitudW!' £01' our nperienoe. in a ,erue they are COl1lltitu.live of the internal stroeture of thOughL Ideti are necessary conditioN of thought. if n~ of ~~. Kant C'fIen Sugges13 that tfH:re shQuld be a final Tt-amcendental Df:ducrion of I~, beyond the centrAl Dedu<:tinn of th~ Categories (A669/twj91). Dekw:c's ron-

rnan'Ve

Kant Dn'l!He:w:d to remind us that JdeauTT e1lsentially 'problemaric'. Con·

(I [

~ly, pm1»ems are Ideas. Undollbcedly, he sbO'li1's that Ideas

lead WI into fuIse problema, but this is not their mOl.!t profound ch~tic: if, .accord· ing to Kant, reason does po$e &lse problems and uK:Idore itself pet! rise to illusion, this is becaUlle in the tint pLu:e it is the faculty l)f po$i.ng problem.~ in g~tal. (DR 168)

TIlls introdUCe!> a radicaJ new dimenllion intQ Kantian thought, all it meanJI that knowledge and experience are not. ultimately to be Ken in terms of me£e di.tcretf :JCU ofju~ent. but a.Iwa;'s in termIi of solutions to problems. Estab-lished KnO'iliedge. in other worm, .iii really nothing bur th~ realm of ~b- lhhed solutions. If IdeM are to be thO'llghr. p.rirnarily as problems. um implie6 mal they must ame3.dy have their own con~ncy and (onn as prob/imt.9 that $tand sU'Ucrur:aIly ouWde achieved empirical m~dge, 'feeding' and even conditioning knowkdge. 'A proposition com:eived as a response is always a part.i<::ul:.lr :rolution, a case comidered for judI. a!:lfltra£dy and apart from the superior synthesis which relates it, along with other ~, to a problem 85 piOOlem' (DR 1&7). hi dlfs!Sente, Delcuze contends that probleml u-anscend their 1lOlutiorn;. and even after they h:.rtIe bee~ solved saWfaoonly by science, they $till retain their power to prf these domaim is the field for a disrinet di.lIcipline that ~ with Ii distinct, spe~ed probkm. But Deleuze abo~, following Jung, that there are problems proper to the uncOIUCiow as weD, and wbkh drive the path of Uldilliduation. 'The I.1m;onsciOUll. . ooncems problenu and questions in their dilferentt in kind from answerwoIudom' (DR 108), It is this line of thought we will Co.now M-re. Deleuu'~ e:lpti<;it re.terence w jung's theory of pt'ob~JYlI.I can serve as a guide. Jung is aIlIo convinced ~t an eternal 't:J'aIUl(:endence' car. be ascribed to problern.6; 'The seriow prob"letnl1 in life ..• are never u.1:ved.

l()J

100

If ever dley should appear to be ~ k i.
Birth, Death and SexuaJ DilIerence

we ha\'C ~ c:beJUftp. and Kantian origins of fH:lew:e's theory that the unconllclow mw be tabn as the site of 'prob&ems', rather than Freudian chives. But at one point in ~ muJ. ~ Dclewe goes on to ~t chat ifW'e want to find out what the true problems of the uru;<>fI.!dow ac~ are, we nevenbelesi ~ to IlU"n lo a uniqul!' IeJ;t in the Frew:hM oorpt.U., b's 'Serual Tbtoriei<>fChildren' of 1008. ~ he affitmsJun,g's problematic ~ <m:r Freud's oppoaidanaJ t;;onception of unconllci0U5 drive vs. conscious ego> Dd!:lU'e IleVcrtbcl_ writta that 'birth and de>ltb, md the dif· fcreru::ebet'ften these1tts, are the comp.k:x. themes of probl~ before the;.are the simple terms of m opp<»itkm' (DR F« a brief moment in this text, Freud had argued tlw. the duld's ~ ~ity w» a fundamental ph. of its psycb.osa:ual ~I<>pment. to the point dl<1t 1he child's fantasies about taatrarion and ineat am he ~ }:)a(:k to iUl queadons and theorie! about. own hinh and iu sex.ual identD¥. This theory did not iaat long, perhaps becawJe Freud liOO11 realm:d Ita pImirnity to lung's more "i~

m

appf03lCh co ~ un«tfi$ciOWl.!9

In 'The 8e:x:'ual Theories of ChUdrm' Freud cbiJ:nJ tbat the ({Ueationing pl'OCeS4 in the child is UIIla1Jy inlt:igated by J.i.r.dry with &ibliDp. rth is a c~ and is furced to theorize on ia own about the t~ces of its ownbirdl. In Jungian terms, Frewi dellcribes the emergence of a split between conscious and U D ~ in temu of iii '~~'. 'The let of viem which are bound up with being "good", but a1Io with .... cetilllldon of reflection. heroine !he dominant and~'ritJows;while lhe other 1ICt, fur which the child'lwnlk of~h has ~ obtained fresh evidente, but which are not suppollCd to .count. become the $Upprea&ed and "unwmcious" ones.. The nuclear complex of a newwu is in this way brought into being' (SF. 9: 2H). At this point, the naclear COO1pJeX U not yet identified with the ~ ~omplex, this identifi· cation linally comi.t:l« about 1n the Rat Man case history of 1909. This account of the o~ of the nudear complex 18 mikinslr different to the lal:lJ!r ~t. in tbal it:. supm thatt.be fimo't!)ect ofprimal repreeon iI the qu. doning, tbeorizln8 1ICti¥ity of tJxo child. not its incestUOus ~. 'rt!Ud'~

account of the genesis of the UtlCA:m~1ow even implies that tM ~ of the UJl<:OnKKJu& &Omehow oontinuetl the questioning and problem:aWing accivUy of the <:hil(l. During the period from 1906 to 1909, Freud had ~3~ come und~ the influence <>f Jung's views, and fu1d begun to admit that tbe~ might be a plUl'llfily of·complexCi'. some of ~ being soda1 or e\'e\l pnm. iional, not just ~ ($eC Freud's 1907 2ddiuOWl to 'l"m ~~ of EW'ryflqj ~ SE 6: 22-.lt). Th~ 'Sexual Th~orielJ' MllY it prob:abtr the high-waW' mark of .'reud:! tnt1:uen££< by]Wlg, and in~ points ta'll\Wdt the kind of theory we have been extracting from Jung in &he preceding paga. Nevertheless, Freud's framework for understanding primary proce. . as too m.eclIanistic to make: nmclJ senle of the paaibitity that the unconscious might ilXJf be prob1emarizingr md nothing funheT ~ of it. Although Freud i~JU a ~ on 'The Drive fot' tcnQWkdge' in the 1915 VMIlion oftbe 17mIe W01Jf.m iN nem, ttl ~ he there reduces to the dri:\fe. to a. combination of the ~ fOr tnMltty and scopophilia (SE 7: 194). Thm D~lJ turn f.D Freudrs notion of 'lleXUa.! th~' is not at all an

enbrace of Freudi:.mism. but amounts to a contInuation of hii Jungian rendeacla From our rurrent penpective, Freoo.', $ugption that children only imtiallv come to oonKit'~1hrougb me ~tence of c.ertain ~le ~ (where do 1 come from? wiry are ~ and girls dit:'rer.enl?) cannot but Ittnind \Ill of t:h.e- problemadc Ideal that hO'lt\l!r outside of rep~n. Like 'bow does It world begin,' or 'are there gods?', these problems mdn: fundamental thoupt. but cannot be ~ answered by empiriCB! cognition. The light oCintelligent cOllllCiowmCllS has ~ Ipn:adi:ng out upon all the p.nu::d<:al activities of the dilld, but now it come; up apinst II realm of darknm whicll cannot be further pettettated. The i.ntiftent .~' <>fthe child borf:s. a hole into itll empirkal (onceplion of the world, arousing a thinllM ~ e that cannot be ~ by the anlWr'elll tha( lU'e 'available f'rotn social r~nw:ives of the ~'Orid. 'The child is a metaph)'llical being', say De~ and GwuWi in A M ~ but 'iJuJ fl~ is (2)> orphtm' (AO 49). One of the profoundlyanfi.psydloanalytic: ~t& ofA ~is that 'parmtal fipre& are in no lIt"lt)' organ. isen' of. the libidmaJ p~ at war;' in the child. but 'rather indUCtOlll or WmuU oharyin8, ~ impart lhat triggt:r ~ of an mti:rety different n:amre, p~ ~ are e:radowed with what amounD to an in.diif:uence with reprd to the lAimulus' (AO 92). In ~analysis, the chUd • <:QmpleWy prtlOCQIpied by the lrign! emitt.ed by the parenlll to the chUd. III ~ V. l..aam ~1lI a dialectic <>f infamiIe desire which neceuarily l~ rowardll ~ in an aberrac:t, dia.lec;ticized ~ of the OedIpus compln. Rut Oeleuze and GuaJ:mri ~pJaio lbe'lle parental • in ethological teJ":m$ » t.rigIering stimuli of autQuomOtt& ~. But ~ are othet atimuli, and other processes, and multiple milieus for the ~ of fbe!le p~. In nne ofhDi luminoualate OPuscules on the theory:af the 1Jl1CONCioua, 'Wh:al Olildren Say', DereW'e ~rate& the point: 'The !ather md D:lOIher are not the coordinates of everylbing d:w is m ~ in the unoontcioUA. 'J.'bcre il

102

ne'ilCt' a moment when children are not already plunged intO an actual milieu in whieb th~ are moving about. and in which the paI'~nts as peJ."SOO.J $imply play th-e rok-!l of openen or closers of dool'll, guardians of tf1rellholds, conn~ ton or dist'onneaors of Z~' (CC 62). 'Doubde!lll one can M:i.rwthat, in the beginning ~ stimulus - the Oedipal inductor - is a real OIgani.:r.er. But bcliffing" an operation of a (ODlICious or precon~i~ namn:, an extrinJlic.': perception rather than an operation of the WlCOtUciO'US upon iaelr (AO 92\. It ito not necessarily that anything has been. ~d into the child's llnc.on-~ (un.leM there has ~en Ii crn.uma). Rather. the child is continually prob~marizings :asking questions of the world and. taking the lat:ter's hesit.a6om in lmS'iftring very ,mowdy. 'What does it mean to be ativcl What does it. mean lO breathe? ""'bal am p' Theae questions hate nothing to do with the libido in freud's sense.

m,

I

I

Chapter 4

The World as Symbol: Kant,jung and Deleuze For some occupant.'! of the twentieth-century esoreric underground, Jung's emphasis on symbolism was the key 00 an understanding of sexuality which surpassed Freud's in range and richness. In his 1916 review of 1tal'l.SJ~ and SymlJols in Vanity Fair, Aleister Crowley wrote 'let us r~oice that the tedious and stupid attempt to relare every human idea 00 sex has been relegated to oblivion; or if you prefer to put it that way, that we must now interpret sex in vaster symbols' (Crowley 1916: 79).1 Sexuality and esoteridsm had often gone hand in hand in the nineteenth 00 twentieth century. Johann Malfatti's "1'M Anarchy and HWarth, ofKnowledge, for which Deleuze wrote an introduction in 1946, is a perfect example. An extravagant blend of nature-philosophy, numerology and Tantrism, this book (entitled MtJt.lusis in French) was held by Rene Guenon to be in pan responsible for initiating the French occult revival in the late nineteenth century. This curious work contains disquisitions on the anima and animus, the hennaphrodite, the world-egg and the 'subtle body'; all sexo-cosmic themes that occur in Jung and Deleuze. An altogether different approach to sexuality is going on here than in psychoanalysis. According to this line of thought, Freud's approach overlooks certain fundamental aspects of human sexuality, such as the fonns of consciousness involved in sexual desire and its paths to consummation. the relation of sexuality to the supersensible and the symbol. In his memoirs, Jung writes: In retrospect I can say that I alone logically pursued the two problems which most interested Freud: the problem of 'archaic vestiges' and that of sexuality. It is a widespread error to imagine that I do not see the value of sexuality. On the contrary, it plays a large part in my psychology as an essentialthough not the whole - expression of psychic wholeness. Rut my main concern has been to investigate, over and above its personal significance and biological function, its spiritual aspect and its numinous meaning, and thus to explain what Freud was so fascinated by but was unable to grasp ... Sexuality is of the greatest importance as the expression of the chthonic spirit. That spirit is the 'other face of God', the dark side of the God-image. (Tung 1961; 192) From his earliest work, Deleuze can be found seizing upon and investigating a series of bizarre and idealist ideas about sexuality. As wen as Sacher-Masoch's

104

Dekuu and the Unconscious

accounts of ritualized sexuality, and lung's anima and animm, Deleuze develops ideas from Ferenczi's notOrious recapitulationist fantasy 1luJlo..ua (1924), and, after writing on Malfatti'& nineteentlHentury Tantric Nf.IhlrphiJ.osophie in his earliest phase, continues to develop Malfatti's theme of the esoteric sexual symbolism of the hermaphrodite, through Prou.st and Sips and intO Anti-Oedipus itself. All these references make use of ideas about sexual cOJlilCiousness which are quite different to Freud. Here too, sex is interpreted in 'vaster symbols'. ForJung and Deleuze, all sexuality has an occluded supersensible dimension. We cannot be excused from citing Jung's recollection of an encounter with Freud at this point: [ can still recall vividly how Freud said to me, 'My dear Jung, promise me neYer to abandon the sexual theory. That is the most essential thing of all. You see, we mwt make a dogma of it, an unshakeable bulwark.' He said that to me with great emotion, in the tone of a &ther saying, 'And promille me this one thing, my dear son: that you will SO to church eYery Sunday'. In some astonishment I asked him, 'A bulwark - against what?' To which he replied, 'Against the black tide of mud' - and here he hesitated for a moment, then added - 'of occultism'. (Tung 1961: 173)

In Deleuze's use ofJung in his 1961 'From 8acher-Masoch to Masochism' and afterwards, we find sexuality itself swept up and mingling with these very dark tides. In the later version, Coldness and CroeUy, Deleuze writes that 'there is a kind of mysticism in perversion: the greater the renunciation, the greater and more secure the gains~ we might compare it to a "black" theology where pleasure ceases to motivate the will and is abjured, disavowed, "renounced n • the better to be recovered as a reward or consequence, and as a law' (M 120). This is perhaps especially true of the first, explicitly Jungian version of Deleuze's theory of masochism. In the early article, the central thesis is that male masochism must be conceived as a perverse realization of the fantasy of incest - on condition that incest is taken in its 'more profound' significance as a symbol of rebirth, as Jung claims. Deleuze builds on Jung's reformulation of the psychological import of the incest problem in order to claim that masochism is a symbolic operation by which enjoyment is obtained from the punislunent that is received for the violation of the law of the father, through the punishment being undergone for the sake of the mother, whose image guides the 80n towards a <second birth'. the future world-historical birth of a 'new man' outside the patriarchal order. This self-punishment of the masochist is achieved only by the maintaining of a regressive re-actualization of a primordial ~ of the mother. Deleuze sums his thesis up in a bold formulation: 'It is the image of the Mother. it is the regression to this image. which is constitutive of masochism and forms its unity' (8M 130). Throughout this text, there is an emphasis on 'primordial' or 'original' im~ and symbols, with Deleuze going so far as to say that 'in truth, all as symJJol in thI 'U~' (SM 131). But at the same time, masochism is a

r 1

I

~

f

The World as SymIJDl: Kant, jung and Deleuu

'I~

'J,j

'I i;'

',.~

"

105

perversion and not a neurosis. MMochism is a direct ritualization of sexuality, a living fantasy, whereby the masochist deliberately harnesses his sexual forces in reality, not repressing anything hut at the same time transforming his libido in the service of a higher end. Masochism for Deleuze is a d1'ama.tization of the Idea of rebirth, where the sexual relationship becomea the vessel for a living, symbolic incarnation of the ideal meaning of incest. In the last chapter, we saw howJtmg claimed that the primary layer of reality is 'symbolic'; in this chapter, we explore the notion of symbolism in more detail. Mter examining Jtmg's theory of symbolism, we will turn to De1euze's attempt to gt'Otmd his ownJtmgian notion oCthe symbol in Kant's aesthetics. Finally, we will be obliged to return to Deleuze's early remarks about the esoteric approach to symbols in his preface to Malfatti, which are shown to underlie and make more intelligible Deleuze's later, 'mature' suggestions about the nature of the symbol.

Jung on Symbolism The seeds for Jtmg's decision to make a break from Freud were sown in 1909 on the journey back from the USA, after having spent seven weeks solid with Freud on a lecture tour. Jung's disagreement about the primacy of sexuality had been festering away in the meantime, and Freud's reluctance to submit to dream analysis increased the tension of the voyage. Then Jung had a dream which made a deep impression upon him. There are three accounts of this dream, all conflicting in some respect, but I will give the version to which Deleuze and Guattari refer. Jtmg was wandering down through the levels of a large, complex rococo house, and reached the cellar; but this led to another cellar, which appeared to be of Roman origin. A hole tmder a. slab led in. tum to a tomb filled with prehistoric pottery, bonea and skulls. The dust was tmdi&turbed, and he felt that he had made a great discovery.! WhenJung told Freud the dream during the voyage bome, Freud was chiefly interested in. the sk.ulls: 'He returned to them repeatedly, and urged me to find a wish in connection with them.' Freud says the dream indicates a single death wish, against his (Jtmg's) wife. Jtmg was surprised and pointed out that there were several skulls, not just one' (Bennet 1966: 64).& Deleuze and Guattari cite Bennet's version of the story more than once as an example of Freud's monomaniac strategy of interpretation (d. ATP 30; D SO). If Freud could claim to have 'deconsttucted' the drive, his interpretations nevertheless tended to regroup the drives and their objects arotmd one single psychogenic drama.. Dream or symptom elements were always reduced to the jamHioJ situation of the patient. Deleuze and Guattari argue that it is this stress on the familial which is at the root of Freud's inability to deal with psychotics, whOle fantasies and hallucinations tend towards the cosmic and metaphysical. It is much harder to relate the forces which assail the psychotic to the symbolic matrix of the family. Deleuze and Guattari suggest that when he insists that it ill important that there were MlJeml skulls, not just one or two, Jtmg has himJJelf a.lready

106 descended to the level of unconscious activity inhabited by schizophrenics. Schizophrenic fantasies and hallucinations, they claim, tend to involve 'multiplicities'.4 Freud's Wolf Man shows the same trajectory when he dreams of a number of wolves observing him from a tree. Freud reduces the multiplicity of wolves to one wolf, and then says that this is a displacement of the tather, but the multiplicity of wolves already indicates that Freud's starting premise is problematic. The indeterminate multiplicity of wolves (or skulls) introduces two further interpretative possibilities, which lead us towards a purer conception of the proper activity of the unconscious. First, it raises the possibility that it is something about wolves or skulls tJurmulvts that has become an issue in the dreamer's unconscious. In this case, wolves or skulls might have nothing to do with any personal memory. This is significant as it suggests that the unconscious process of dreaming can also be populated by impersonal contents; nOl everything in the unconscious is related to repressed representations. The wolf no longer appears primarily for representational consciousness but for a special symhclU type of cognition. Dreams too are composed of symbols, and therefore must be interpreted in a way that is proper to symbols. The second way of interpreting the multiplicity of wolves involves appeal to the particular ethology of the wolf, and the nature of the 'pack'; we return to this in the final chapter. For the moment. we Stay with the notion of the symbol. Deleuze's use of Kant's notion of symbolism is predated by his use of Jung's notion of symbolism. So we should look closer atJung's definition of a symbol before we press onward to Kant. Jung's critique of Freud's concept of symbolism is crucial to his critique of Freud and is explicitly taken up by Deleuze in his Jungian phase. Deleuze argues that 'symbols do not allow themselves to be reduced or composed; on the contrary they are the ultimare rule for the composition ofdesires and their object, they form the only irreducible data of the unconscious ... The irreducible datum of the unconscious is the symbol itself, and not an ultimate symbolised. In truth, all is .rymhol in the unconscibw, sexuality and death no less than anything else' (8M 131). Following jung, Deleuze identifies symbols with 'primordial' or ·originallmages'. 'It was not left to [Freud] to grasp the role of original Images'; this was to be Jung's contribution. In examining this debate, it is important to keep in mind that Jung's prime subject-matter of discussion is the dream-image or the visions or hallucinations of psychotics. At que!luon is how to approach such images and experiences. The first point in Jung's critique of Freud's conception of symbolism is that Freud has been using the term 'symbol' incorrectly: The essential thing in }'reud's reductive method, is to collect all the dues pointing to the unconscious background, and then, through the analysis and interpretation of this material, to reconstruct the elementary and instinctual processes. Those conscious contents which give us a due to the unconscious backgroWld are incorrectly called symbols by Freud. They are not true symbols, however, since according to his theory they have merely

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the role of signs and symptoms of the subliminal processes. The uue symbol diffen essentially from this, and should be understood as an expression of an intuitive idea that cannot yet be Connulated in any other or better way,

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(CW 15: 70) In his exposition of Jung's critique, E. A. Bennet cites R.oland Dalbiez's hjchoo1UJl"jtic Method and the Doctrine ofFreud (1936), which contains a detailed

critique of Freud's innovations in the theory of symbolism, influenced by Jung's critique, which he says 'reaches the heart of the question' (Dalbiez 1936: II, 103). Dalbiez's two-volume work was the first subsrantial evaluation of Freud's work in France, and we will see that there is little doubt that Deleuze himself also read it and was influenced by it. It is worth turning to it first. because it is somewhat dearer !.han Jung's own account, al!.hough more resuicted in its range, Dalbiez's bone of contention is that 'Freud has completely modified the usual meaning of the word 'symbol'. Psychoanalytical symbolism constitutes !.he exact antithesis of ordinary symbolism , .. whereas the ordinary symbol implies no direct causal relarion with what it symbolises, the Freudian symbol is essentially and by definition an effect of what it symbolises' (Dalbiez 1936: II, 102, cited in Bennet 1966: 41). Dalbiez argues that by always referring symbols back to actual o~ects, penons or events from personal history, Freud introduced a confusion between the concept of symbol and that of index or ejfect-sif:rl.~ As Bennet puts it, the way Freud conceived the symbol 'was tantamount to claiming it as a substitute for the real thing' (Bennet 1966: 42). But in bringing about this slippage, Freud occluded. an entire set of functions which had up until then been attributed to symbols. Dalbiez writes: Common parlance unhesitatingly uses white as the symbol of moral innocence, and black as that of moral evil. We at once observe that the idea of a dma causal relation between the symbol and symbolised is not essential to symbolism, Material whiteness is no more an effect of moral innocence than moral innocence is of material whiteness. This is enough to set a. gulf between the concepts of symbol and of symptom, or, as we prefer to say. of effect-+;ign. The symptom proves the existence of its cause; the symbol does not prove that of the symbolised. (Dalbiez 1936: II, 101) Dalbiez's exposition emphasizes the causal nat:ure of sign, as opposed to the non
108

expression as an analogue or an abbreviated designation for a boom thing is st'I'IIi6tic' (CW 6: 474), Jung cIariftes this by specifying that interpretation is semiotic when a symptom or dream-ima.ge is 'reduced' (ibid.: 479) to a. signifier of repressed sexual events in the patient's history; Freud's approach resolves the image 'into its memory components and the underlying instincwal processes' (GW 7: 81). The problem is that Freud takes the lIemiotic interpretation of symbob to be the only one, overlooking the fact that the notion of the symbol has had an important history in aesthelia. 7 It is possible that the distinction between symbol and allegory is relevant for the psychiatric understanding of symbolism. The distinction between symbol and allegory has a long and complicated history in aesthetia, but it is perhaps its development in Schelling's work on mythology that is most relevant for undentanding Jung's and Deleuze's approach. Schelling argued that symbols functioned in a di.fferent way to allegorical images or scenes - which required knowledge of an actual esoteric 'key' which relates the elements to a historical or mythical narrative. The power of religioWl and mythical images did not come from their allegorical funclion. As Beach puts it, 'the funclion of myths in religions was not to impart infonnation or to reach an intellectual understanding of the world, but rather had something to do with lltimularlng a special kind of psychological response within the listener' (Beach 1994: 34). It might be similarlyposaible to 'listen' to dreams in two different ways. On the one hand, as referring to concrete past events, and on the other hand as addre5lling the listener in the present. jung makes an analogy with Kant's distinction between analytic and synthetic judgments (the former clarify, while the latter amplify; Kant 1782/1787: A'1/Bll); dream~boJstoo must be approached 'synthetically' as well as 'analytically' (GW 7: 80-9; d. SM 1M). Although the semiotic interpretation may somerimes be appropriate for cenain dream interpretations, dreams and all symptoms frequently contain symbols which migflt well be addressing the subject directly with a problem or enigma to be solved in the present, by an act of synthesis. If we do treat our unconscioWl as a superior Other, then we have to listen to its cryptic statements very carefully, just as we listen carefully to a piece ofmusii:: bv Beethoven or Stoclthausen. Moreover, since the dream addresses WI in the present, addressing our current libidinal state, the symbol might equally be ttying to communicate something of which we are not yet conscious. 'We know, from abundant experience as weU as for theoretical reasons, that the unconsaoWl also contains aU the material that has fIOt yet reached me threshold of conllcioWlness' (CW 7: 1%8). A common but important instance of this can be found in apparently premonitory dreams of miscarriage. More generally,Jung ~ that symbols are used when 'the chosen expression is the best possible description or formulation of a relatively unknown fact. which is nonetheless known to exist, or posmlated as existing' (CW 6: 474). The symbol, taken as symbol, expresses something to which existence might be attributed, but whose nature is indeterminate.s It expresses some enigmatic aspect of reality, which cannot be reduced to being the 'sign of a definite and generally known under-

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109

lying process'. It is not just dreams and psychosis which produce symbols: art, humour and religion all use symbols to communicate messages that cannot be uttered in nonnal, representational language, but which concern problematic rMlilies wbich directly concern us. These images need to be 'amplified' (CW 7: 81). 'Once embarked on the task of examining the dream-mat:erial, you must not shrink from any comparison' (CW 4: 145). Symbolic images are communications, and in dreams often OCcur intensively in sequences, like a sequence of riddles given by a demonic super-ego, always 'superior' to our ego, which we must use 'all the conscious means at our disposal' to crack.9 At another level, symbols also testify to special 'synthetic' processes in the unconscious itself. Jung stresses that the unconscioWl operates by condensing unCOnscioWl material into an enigmatic symbol that 'synthetically' expresses each of the sides at work in the current psychic conflict. Thus although Freud appears to give equal weight to both displacement and condensation in The ]n~ of Imams, his model of the psychic process forces him to give primacy to the fonner, insofar as dream-distortion in general operates through the displacement of psychic intensities across the derivatives of a repressed reprelentation (cr. SE 4: 177). Jung's emphasis on the role of condensation in symbols suggests that condensation involves a different kind of synthesis, perhaps involving something like the 'condensation of singularities' Deleuze di.scusses in relation to the detennination of the Idea in Dif.fermu and &petition: in an initial apprehension of a problem, we discover 'the varieties of the multiplicity in all its dimensions, the fragments of ideal future or past events, which ... render the problem solvable'; then 'we must condense all the singularities, precipitate all the circumstances, points of fusion, congelation or' condensation in a sublime occasion, Kmms, which makes the solution explode like something abrupt, brutal and revolutionary' (DR 190). The unconscious is creative and 'arnplificatory' in Kant's sense that the positive syntheses of the unconscioWl produce '1IeWcontents' (CW8: 364), which cannot be reduced to their previously existing analytic elements. )t is interesting that in his first seminar Lacan suggests that some of the Wolf Man '5 symptoms mWlt be classed as psychotic rather than neurotic. He does not just fantasize about castration, but hallucinates a bleeding finger. 'At this point in his childhood, nothing enticles one to classify him as a schizophrenic, but it really is a psychotic phenomenon we are dealing with' (Lacan 1953: 59). Lacan suggests that the Wolf Man is ftJredosing the Oedipal position, rather than repressing it into the unconscious (ibid.: 43). He acts as if the symbolic order (in Lacan's sense) did not exist and has no claim upon him, and thus surrenders all protection against the deceptions and distortions of the imaginary. In his seminar on the psychoses, l.acan argues at length that what. distinguishes the psychotic from the neurotic (which includes the 'normal' person) is the latter's entrance into the intersubjective order of linguistic communication. The phenomena of perception and imagination remain the same in each case - everyone is regularly subject to distortions of perception and internal voices - but the neurotic has intersul:!jective and symbolic or

llO

Deleuz.e and the Unconscious

lin81Jistic criteria for what counts as real. Reality is a shared phenomenon. guaranteed by mutual recognition, so hallucinations can be brushed off if nobody else verifies them. The inteTSubjective conditions of language are so deeply ingrained that internal voices are simply interpreted as inner dialogue between self and one's 'significant Other', 'I' and 'You' (Lacan 1955: 51). In a nutshell, 'what chara£terises a normal subject is precisely that he never takes seriously certain realities that he recognises exist' (ibid.; 74). The WolfMan is psychotic because he takes wolves so serioU8ly. We will see in chapter 6 that Deleuze and Guatl:ari imply that the Wolf Man was a lycanthrope, and that he was therefore quite right to take his wolves seriously. Eighteenth-<:entury descriptions of epidemics of lycanthropy stress the state of trance or dissociation that occurs in the preliminary stages. followed bv the frenzy of the feeling of transformation. 1o In other words. for Deleuze and Guattari, the Wolf Man does not necessarily have a latent psychosis. Instead. he is a manifest lycanthrope. Ultimately. the classification of certain symptoms as neurotic and psychotic obSLructs the interpretation of symbols. The question is whether certain symptoms or fantasies that are traditionally classified as psychotic should be defined gnoseologically at all. or whether they in fact bear witnellS rather to different lewls of unconscious activity, which may emerge in psychosis orneurosis. We have seen that in 'From Sacher-Masoch to Masochism' Deleuu endorses Jung's view that 'Freudian methodologies are appropriate mainly for young neurotics whose disorders are related to personal reminiscences and whose problems are about reconciling themselves with the real (loving, making oneself lovable, adapting, etc.). without regard for the role of any interior conflicts' (8M 1~3). But on the other hand, 'there are neuroses of quire another type which are nearer to psychosis' (ibid.). Conversely, as Deleuze points out in Difference and &petitWn. schizophrenics can exhibit what appear to be obsessional symptoms: 'Consider the gesll.lra1 or linguistic repetitions and iterations or stereotypical behaviours associated with dementia or schizophrenia. These no longeT seem to manifest a will capable of investing an oiject within the context of a ceremony; rather they function like reflexes which indicate a general breakdown of investment' (DR 290). For Deleuu, the real line of demarcation will be between different levels of the unconscious. UkeJung, he believes that there is an autonomous, productive activity which is proper to the unconscious itself. This productive unconscious is the motor of the process of individuation. It is this level which is characteristically expr~ in psychosis. but which can also appear in neuroses under certain conditions. On the other hand, unconscious activity appears in distoned, inverted form, when consciousness approaches it in a retM:titH! attitude. Here the unconscious is not met on its own tetmS, and consciousness is concerned 'reconciling [itself) with the rml (loving, making oneself lovable, adapting, etc.)'. rather than with individuation. Again, this is characteristic of neurosis, but the psychotic will inevitably be profoundly concerned at variousjuncwres with problems of adaptation.

T~ World as Symbol: Kn,nt,

jung and D8/ntu

111

Kant's Theory of Symbolism

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[n 1961 Deleure fully affirms Jung's notion of symbolism, but by 1963 he has nevertheless turned to Kant for a fuller explanation of the nature and implications of the symbol. In the psychotic process, it would appear, there is some sort of liberation of the productive and reproductive imagination from the practical nonns of conceptual representation. What needs to be understood is how the mind functions upon this release, independently of the processes of reaction which characterizes neurosis. In Kant's CritiIJue ofJudgment, Deleuze finds a purely aesthetic account of how the imagination becomes immanentlv reoriented to the symbol when it breaks free of the normative rules of th~ understanding. But although Deleuze does not taLIc. here about the S!J"Ibols of t~ 'Unconscibw, the turn to aesthetics is consistent with his insistence that the productions of the unconscious should be examined in art and culture as wen as in psychopathology, and that the two might be harder to separate than it appears. Deleuze's rum to Kant for a theory of symbolism in fact gives the Jungian theory of symbolism a finner epistemological grounding. It also produces an unexpected transfonnation of the Jungian claim that it is the symbolic layer of reality that is re-activated in psychosis. Kant reveals another, more subterranean destination of the imagination, beneath the functions of conceptual representation, in the apprehension of the world as symbol. Nature becomes a book of symbols. At that point, in the last part of this chapter. we shall to plunge back intO Deleuze's earliest writings on poetic and occult uses of symbolism. For the mysteriousJohann Malfatti in his Math&sis, to which Deleuze provided the foreword for its first republication in a hundred years. nature itself is hieroglyphic, an expression of the body of a tripartite, living divine reality. Deleuze's Kant's Critical Philt.uophy (1963) affords an unusually large place to Kant's notion of symbolism. In the fourth of his 1978 Kant lectures. Deleuze still accords supreme importance to Kant's theory of symbolism, and he suggests that it is behind his own suggestions about the spatiotemporal 'dramatisation of Ideas.' At this point in Kant's work. we find the 'schematism' of the imagination lured away from its function in the process of knowledge and empirical perception, towards another destination: the schematizing imagination 'risks being overwhelmed by something monstrous, which Kant ill the first to analyse, to my knowledge. It is symbolism' (Fourth Lecture on Kant, 2).H Two important things appear to be happening here. First, Deleuze's tum (Q Kant to develop the notion of symbol suggests an attempt to ground the Jungian approach to symbolism within a more rigorous theory of cognition. jung himself docs not refer to Kant's aesthetics, although we will see that the latter is consistent with his notion of symboUsm, and even, with Deleuze's mod~ ifications, powerfully augments it. Secondly. with the notion of symbolism, we are now seeing another front opening up in Deleure's attempt to unearth the internal hierarchies of cognition, and to the elicit the hidden ends of cognition, beneath conceptual representation. Parallel to Deleuze's attempt to push

112

Kant's theory of schematism in the direction of a theory of'spatiotemporal

d~amiJlnu', symbolism will be the due to the narrow set of conditions lmder which the dimension of 'Ideas' can be 'presented' to the mind, overriding the limits of the conceptual lmderstanding. We have seen that Deleuze deploys his conception ofIdeas in ways that move beyond Kant's theory of cognition towards a theory of the lmConscioUll, He claims that Ideas must be taken to be 'necessarily unconscious' (DR 192). It looks as though Deleuze is synthesizing Kant withJlmg's theory that cognition is unconsciously molivated by 'problematical states' (CW 8: 391), If this is even half-right, then it is clear how radically non-Freudian Deleuze's notion of the lmconscious is. If Ideas are unconscious, they are so in a very specific and restricted sense. They are not unconscious in the Freudian sense that they lie outside consciousness ttmt court and can only be known by their 'derivatives', Rather they are 'unconscious' only in the sense that we cannot be conscious of them in the way we are conscious of empirical things or representational states of mind, by virtue either of our capacity to have intuitions of them, or even to m;lke judgements and inferences about them. The Idea is both more and lesa unconscioWl than Freudian repressed representations. It is more unconscioWl as we cannot even make secure inferences about it on the basis of displaced 'derivatives', It is less unCOnsciOWl in the sense that Kant's expanded theory of cognition allOWll us to conceive of non-representational types of cognition. Symbolic mought is exacdy one such type of cognition; artistic creativity is anomer. Kant's theory alloWll one to open up the theory of 'the unconscious' to accommodate highly specific types of cognition that cannot be recognized bv the Freudian model. For Deleuze, the Idea is a destination of cognition that representational thought while being UfJtonscWw to it. This aUOWll Deleuze to introduce a teleology into the theory of the unconscious which is again foreign to Freud. To say that we are unco118ciowdy motivated by an Idea is also to say that our actions are guided by an nut which remains only implicit, which can only be explicated or unfolded, as we will see in chapter 6, under certain conditions. 12 The end of cognition only becomes fully conscious in the state of 'repetition', but afterwards it is forgotten immediately, and consciouaness once again becomes inadequate to the Idea. As with jung, cognition and affection must be situated within a process of individuation, during which we 'learn' (always to the cost of our ego and representation) about the forces which really guide us, and then attempt to take charge of them.

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the presentation of the unconscious, not the representation of consciousness. (DR 192) Deleuze turns to Kant's aesthetics in particular for an account of the role of the imagination in this process of individuation. 'The imagination discovers the origin and destination of all (the1 activities [of cognition J" a 'suprasensible destination, which is also like its transcendental origin' (DI 6S). Kant suggeStli that we are first made aware of this destination through the exceeding of representation in the experience of the sublime in nature, which then opens up the more complex and profound possibility of the 'reflection' of natural symbolism in the imagination. If the Ideas cannot be ~ then they can be given a 'presentation' (Darstellung) al" Ideas. 'According to Kant:. the Ideas of reason can be presented in sensible nature. In the sublime, the presentation is direct, but negative, and done by p~ection; in natu.ral sym_ bolism . . . the presentation is positive but indirect, and is achieved by reflection' (Kep 59). If the encounter with the fonnless sublime enactll the gmuis of the moral destination of all cognition, beauty itlielf aJso carries with it a ha1fconcealed moral dimension: 'beauty is the symbol ~f morality' (Kant 1790: Ak. 3D1). However, Deleuze suggests that the ulti.ma.te destination of cognition and affection is perhaps less straightforwardly moral than Kant himself realizes, 'Aesthetic judgment finds itself referred to something that is both in the subject himself and oUtliide him, something that is neither nature nor freedom and yet is linked with the basis of &eedom, the supersemible, in which the meoretical and the practical power are in an unknown manner combined and joined into a unity' (Kant 1790: Ak. 353). There is a third po6&ible kind of presentation in artistic geniw, which gives rise to a specifically artistic symbolism. There the possibility arises of the mORt 'adequate' kind of presentation of the Idea; the artist is responsible for 'the creation of another nature' (KCP 59). In this other nature, 'invisible beings, the kingdom of the blessed, and hen assume a body, and love and death allSume a dimension that makes them adequate to their spiritual meaning' (01 67/66). How could our interest in the ~ of the Idea not be intensified and altered in nature by such glimpses into another world? Morality is inevitably contuninated by an and myth; the form taken by the Kantian agent's hopes and desires will be shaped as much by the Bible, Shakespeare and Milton, as by abstract rational principles. Our mtmlstin the rea1i2ation of moral freedom forces us to explore other worlds, where we can contemplate love and hen in purer outline than in our own. And this in tum forces WI to elaborate our moral world, the mundus intel1igihW which 'Kant speaks of, Deleuze concludes: 'If we are destined to be moral beings, it is because this destiny develops or explicates a supersensible destination for all our tiaculties' (0169/68). The affinnation of this third possibility produces an 'aesthetic turn' in Deleuze's work. and allows him to qualify the Kantian emphasis on the moral aspect of the Idea.. If he retains a teleological conception of individuation dlroughout his work of the 1960s, the activity of the artist is always the highest

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r 114

Deleu:ze and the UncO'nSciuus

form of individuation, not only because in artistic creation the individual achieves the most elaborate kind of self-differentiation, but also because the ,,:,ork of art gives individuality itself its most elaborate and solicitous expresSion, We care so deeply about good art because each work brings into existence an aesthetic 'world' whose existence is no less real for being entirely 'spiritual', Deleuze's book on Proust is the most exquisite expression of this transmutation of Kantian moral finality into aesthetic finality. •Art is the finality of the world, and the apprentice's unconscious destination' (PS 50). We must now turn to the details of Kant's theory of symbolism. The theorv is situated within a complex argument about the beautiful and sublime ~ nature and art. It is presented in a section devoted to the 'Deduction' of aestheticjudgements, after Kam has explored the two 'Analytics', of the Beautiful and the Sublime, and it introduces SOme important modifications to what has gone previously. In the Analytic of the Beautiful, Kam has argued that beauty arises because an object produces a hannonious accord between the faculties of senSibility and understanding. so that a feeling of universality is attained without the understanding having to determine the object conceptually. This not only releases the imagination from its reproductive function. but its productive role too is liberated from conceptual representation. The imagination's absorption in ".Jlediue jUtlpment upon the object is radical. with the consequence that the empirical world can seem to disappear in aesthetic contemplation. Now, in the Analytic Kant argues that the pleasure produced by the beautiful aesthetic object (whether natural or artificial) is disinterested, because it is the /tYrm of the object that is reflected upon; we are strangely indifferent to the actual existence of the thing depicted. However, in the Deduction Kant proceeds to point out that we are nevertheless in some sense ' deeply invested in the experience of contemplation, Something matters in aesthetic experience, so that it is never enough to accept that the experience is just an illusion. It turns OUt that for Kant this strange interntwe have in the beautiful is precisely directed towards its symbolic aspects. The beautiful is ultimately not just indifferent, 'aesthetidzing' pleasure, but is, as we have mentioned, a 'symbol of morality', Although Kant's emphasis is on symbolism in nature. Deleuze suggests that our interest also extends to the symbols produced by the artist. In Kant's Crilii:al Philosoph" and a contemporaneous essay 'The Idea of Genesis in Kant's Aesthetics', he brings out the hidden mgectory that moves through Kant's CriJilru.t of~ and which relates the dimension of the aesthetic to that of the Idea. via the path of symbolism. Kant's analysis of the sublime first of all uncovers a moral dimension to aesthetic contemplation. Our sense of awe at the sublime spectacles of formlessness and deformation in nature do not simply arise because our productive imagination is striving to synthesise something too inunense to take in aU at once. Something else happens when 'the imagination is pushed tv tlu limit of its power' (DI 62/6~).U We realize that it is our capacity for reason which in truth is motivating us to 'unite the infinity of the sensible world into a whole ... The imagination is forced to admit that aU its power is -nothing in relation

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to a rational Idea' (ibid.).14 Deleuze argues that Kant is here providing a model for the gme.sU of dle relations of the faculties. 15 Imagination finds itself newly ~ by the violent apprehension of its ultimate relation with reason. Whereas the schematism of the imagination is ordinarily subjected to the categories of the understanding, in the event of the sublinle it is reoriented toWards the Ideas of reason: 'The accord of the inlagination and reason is effectively engendered in this discord.' Unlike the beautiful, the accord of the faculties only emerges from a prior discord between inlagination and understanding. The pain or unease caused by this discord of the faculties is in turn resolved by a higher-order pleasure: 'Pleasure is engendered within pain.' In Kant's aesthetic of the sublinle we encounter an entirely different model of pleasure and pain to Freud's energetic model. Not only are pleasure and pain derived from an analysis of cognition, rather than vice vena (cognition as an emergent property of the process of libidinal discharge), but they are given a teleological significance which is of course lacking in Freud. 'The inlagination surpaMeS its own limitations, in a negative way it is true, by representing to itself the inaccessibility of the rational Idea and by making this inaccessibility something present in sensible nature.' However, if it is the Idea which is making itself present here, that indicates that the formlessness of the canyons, ravines, and mountains found in nature, the deformed billowing of douds and fire, are ultimately oa:mit:m.s for this presentation. One might expect the falling away of form and order in nature to lead to the opposite of the beautiful - the ugly or monstrous - but in fact the fall into the formless abyss is an occasion for the appearance of something unanticipated. The colossal puncture in the sensible world tears open the heavens and reveals this world as other than we had taken it to be. The sensible world is no longer a realm of limitation and finitude, but the scene for the realization of the Idea. a space for incarnation. The sublime is less an experience of something .out there'. which is in itself awe-inspiring, than a lJrojet:tion of our own destination within the realm of sensible nature. 'It is only in appearance, or by projection, that the sublime is related to sensible nature' (ibid.; cr. KCP 58). This use of the model of projection is important, as it helps emphasize that we are unable to encounter our freedom face-to-face, but can only first 3£cede to it by projecting it onto nature. We must first experience reason as Other, as appearing in the formless abysses of nature. The model of projection is nOl found in Kant's text, and brings out the idea that there is something unconsciDw in our experience of the sublime. We don't see our own shadow in the abyss. Deleuze's remark recallsJung's idea that the unconscious is first encountered through a projection onto the other (the shadow): 'Projections change the world into the replica of one's own unknown face' (CW 00: 9). Freud also ventures a similar idea in The Psyc~ ofEverydnty Lif~

When human beings began to think, they were, as is well known, fon:ed to explain the external world anthropomorphically by means of a multitude of

116

Deleuu and thB Unconscious

personalities in their own image ... I believe that a large pan of the mythological view of the world, which extends a long way into the most modern religions, is MIlling but psyc1uJlogy projet:;ted i.nto the aternal wurld. (SE 6: 259, 258) However, Freud's later development of the concept occun mosdy within the conteXt of paranoia. Projection involves the disavowal of some /HJrIit:ttlar piece of reality. Schreber disavows his (supposedly) homosexual desires with the result that 'what was abolished [awhOOenj internally return.s from without' (SE 12: 71). Therefore,Jung's use of the term to de!ICribe the projection of the IJntonsaow ttmt cou.rl is closer to Deleuze's use of it here. The 'unknown inner world' is p~ected, and first encountered outside, in the shadow. But this line of thought also raises another important issue which is only implicit in Deleuze's reading due to his concenaation on the systematic argumentation, rather than on the process of 'transcendental formation' or 'transcendental culture' iuelf (01 61/62). The model of projection usually points towards the overcoming of projection through an incorporation by the subject of their alienated aspect. But in Kant and Deleuze something more complex and interesting occun. The subject never recuperates their projec. lion; rather the projection is itlielf transformed into aMtMr 'alienation': this time. the world as symbol. Once the Idea has been presented in negative fonn in the sublime, it does not disappear. or simply wait for the next sublime experience to occur. Nor is the moral sense simply awakened, leaving the aesthetic sense behind. A transcen· dental formation has occurred, which means that the subject is transformed. Therefore although Kant begins the Critique ofJuJ.gment with an analysis of the disinterested nature of the contemplation of beauty, it turns out that this analysis is an abs:trtJi:tinn from the whole story about beauty. Once the subject has undergone the experience of the sublime, their experience of btauty win also be altered. Beauty is not the same after the sublime. The imagination has been awakened to its destination in the Idea, and this now adds an undercurrent to all experiences of beauty. What this means is that the unconscious projeeticm of the Idea into formless nature is now expanded and changes in nature. Now 6ll oj natufl1 is potentially ani.ma.ted by the Idea. But because we are not yet 'self· conscious' of our role in the p~ection of the sublime, when this unconscious-ness is transmitted to the rest of natUre (formed and beautiful nature, that is), it can no longer be called a projection. We now appear to find ounelves in nature; nature appears to tLddl WI through its symbols. In our experience of the beautiful, we are now reading the Book of Nature. If in projection we made ounelves Other. now. rather than reincorporating this Other, we truly.forgt!l that this Other is ourselves. The model changes from p~ection to recollection, and only thus does a 'return to self' come about. To read the symbols in the Book of Nature is to m:ollea ow-selves. to re-find ounelves i.n the objett. Kant specifies that the indireCt presentation involved in symbolism operates through analogy. 'Symbolic presentation uses an analogy . . . in which

image prodU itself' ' Let Deleu; aesthe tation intere

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judgm~t ~rf~~ a double function: it applies the concept to the object of a senSIble mtu1tJon; and then it applies the mere rule by which it reflects on that intuition to an entirely different object. of which the fonner object is only the symbol' (Kant 1790: Ak.152). He gives the example of the symbolic presentation ofabsolute monarchy as a hand mill: 'For though there is no similarity between a despotic state and a hand mill, there cerWnly is one between the rules by which we reflect on the two and on how they operate.' What the despot is to the people. the miller is to grain; the aymbol functions through an analogical correspondence between hand-mill and state. Another example is the white lily as symbol of innocence (Kant 1790: 3(2). Deleme writes that 'the white lily is not merely related to the concepts of colour and flower, but. also awakens the Idea of pure innocence, whose object is merely a (reflexive) analogue of the white in the lily flower (Kep 54).' Deleuze emphasizes almost the same example as Dalbiez does in his d.iscmsion of symbolism in psychoanalysis. The white lily is an example of an analogical symbol: 'What innocence is to the mind corresponds to what whitenes& is to the body' (Dalbiez 1936: II, 101). For Deleuze, Kant'!! notion of symbolWn provides the key to the problem of how the imagination becomes set free from the understanding. Ifthe 'schematism' is the bask non-repre!lentational matrix of the unconscious, then it finds its ultimate unconscioWl 'destination' in symbolism. Kant's distinction between symbol and schema in the CriIique ofltulf!:mnt is to be found 'among the most admirable pages in Kant' (Fourth Lecture on Kant, 8). Where schematism sketches out the spanotemporal correlate of a pure concept. symbolism uses the same type spatiotemporal correlate 'not in relation to the corresponding concept A, but in relation to the quite different concept B for which you have no intuition of a schema. At that moment the schema ceases to be a rule of production in relation to its concept, and becomes a rule of reflection in relation to the other concepL So much so that you have the Kantian sequence: synthesis refers to a rule of recognition. the schema refers to rules of production, the symbol refers to rules of reflection' (ibid: d. Kant 1790: Ak.. 352). The destination of the imagination thus lies in reflection. Kant's concept of reflection here is based on the notion of reflective judge. ment, which he opposes to determiningjudgement; it obviously has little to do with reflection in the cognitive sense. But perhaps there is, on the other hand. a connotation of the ,",","in the notion that imagination finds its destination in 'reflection' upon symbolB in nature. The symbol is a mirror, or a frozen image. because it is finally a precipitate of the unconscious activity of the productive imagination. But what happens when the subject finally 'finds ltself' in the symbol we have still to see. Let us now follow in more detail the path taken by Kam. pursued by Deleuze. through the Oritilfue of }utJgrn8nt to the concept of symbolism. H aesthetic contemplation is capable of giving Ideas of reason a sensible presentation (as has been shown by the case of the lIublime) then a certain kind of interest can be WlCribed to iL For 'reason also has :an interest in the objective

i

IlB reality of the Ideas; ie. an interest that nature should at least show a trace or give a hint that it contains some basis or other for Wl to assume in its products a lawful harmony with that liking of ours which is ~ of oJl 'nterest' (Kant 1790: 3(0). Once we are captured by the claim of reason, how can our experience of beauty, as well as the sublime, not be accompanied by a deeper interest that goes beyond any sensuoWl interest in the existence of the particular beautiful object? Aesthetic experience must somehow also be the vehicle for a 'ratiLrn4t intemt in tJu amti~ tucord of nalU~~ f1mdtutions with mu disiflr terested pltwufi' (Kep 54). DeJeuze stresses that it is important to acknowledge mat this special interest does no~ contradict the disinterestedness that is essential to the aesthetic in general. 'It is a question of an interest that is connected to me judgment {of the beautiful] synthetically. It does not bear on the beaurifuJ as such, but on me aptitude of nature to produce beautiful things' (01 64/65). It is not a sensuous passion, but a peculiar passion of reason that is borne by aesthetic pleasure. 8ut this is a conceptual distinction; how could they avoid being confused in practice? The only way in which disinterested pleasure in a beautiful object and rational interest in that same ol'!ject could finally avoid being confused (resulting in one submerging the other and covering over any evidence of its existence) would be if 'the interest connected with the beautiful bears upon determinations to which the sense of the beautiful remained indifferent' (0165/65). And it happens that there is a gap in the aesthetic experience of nature, where mis interest can make itself fell. In me disinterested gense of the beautiful, me imagination reflects the form only. It cannot reflect upon mere colour, mere sound. 'On the contrary, th~ intemt connected to the beautiful bears upon sounds and colours, the colour of flowers and me songs of birds' (ibid., italic added). That is, it reflects upon the 'free materials of nature' (Kep 54). It is just this 'remainder' of the beautiful that serves as the vehicle for symbolism, for the indirect. but now positive presentation of the Idea (KCP 58; 0166/(6). For example, we do not merely relate colour to a concept of the understanding which would directly apply to it, we also relate it to a quiU different concept which does not have an object of intuition on its own account, but which resembles the concept of the understanding because it posits its object by analogy with me o~ect of the intuition. (Kep 54) The basic condition of the significance of the analogy between the white body of the lily and the Idea of pure innocence is mat the whil.eness itself be animated by our interest in Ideas being incarnated. It is 'primary matter' that

is at the source of me production of symbol.'l in nature- (DI 65/65). The identification of this materia pri'fM is a delicate process, as it mWlt fall outside of me 'formal' accords found in me disinterested sense of me beautiful, while not falling into the 'fonnlessncss' found in sublime nature. Can it be done? Deleuz.e writes that. 'Kant even defines the primary matter that. intervenes in

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The World os Symbol: Kant, Jung and Deleuu

119

ce or iucts teres! lour

the natmal prod~ction of the beautiful: fluid matter, part of which separates or evaporates, while the rest suddenly solidifies (the formation of crystals) '. In # 59 of the CritiI{tu ofJudgment Kant gives an account of the 'fm f ~ of nature' which indicates that primary matter is something more than mere

~eper

quality, as the examples of colour and soood might have led us to think. 'Under the described circumstances, formation then take place not be a gradual transition from the fluid to the solid state, but as it were by a leap: a sudden solidification called shooting; this transition is also called crystalliz.o.t:ion. The commonest example of this type of formation occurs when water freezes' (Kant 1790: Ak. 348). Kant invokes a process of format.iun. and even uses the precise example to which Deleure so often appeals to illustrate the inltinsive nature of quality. The freezing of water is a properly intensive process, as it is both durational and involves the crossing of a threshold (or singuJarity~. Kant's reflections on the connection between intensive nal:Ural processes and symbol-formation are extremely suggestive. He notes that 'many such mineral crystallisations, e.g., spars, hematite, and aragonite, often result in exceedingly beautiful shapes. such shapes as an might invent; and the halo in the grotto of Antiparos [in the Cyclades in Greece I is merely the product of water seeping through layers of gypsum' (ibid.: 349). Given the traces ofreliglous symbolism left in the grottoes of Lascaux and other sites, Kant's theory suggests a hypothesis that certain nat.maI environments might be rich in symbolic 'potential'. If absorption in reflective judgement tends to liberate the imagination from its subordination ooder the norms of empirical, determining judgement, the descent into the crystalline world of the grotto may" have provided the conditions for a fOooding moment in 'transcendental culture': the transition to a new a priori synthesis between the productive imagination and the symbol. The Hall of the Bulls at Lascaux is filled with concretions of minute calcite needles which produce exceptional optical effects, while the entrance to the Chamber of Felines is encrusted with mondmilch. 16 The Idea might have been concretely incarnated for the first time in stalagmite caverns like these. before the enraptured eyes of shamans and priests lately descended from their sublime mountain sancruaries. In the opening pages of 1>i.fft:mu:e and &petition Deleuze suggests that 'the meaning of the grove, the grotto and the "sacred" object' (DR 2) can only have emerged through an apprehension of the identity of change and permanence in nawre. In the liquid silence of the grotto, then. behind the faces of the formed crystals and stalactites, ace the traces of a universal process of intensive transformation. 17 What completell the synthesis of image and symbol is the total impression that one has entered a space of intensive transformation. The grotto itself is a crystal. In pursuing this vein in Kant's later thought, Deleuze is consciously mining the Romantic line of thought that followed on from Kamianism and altered its direction. 'Navalis, with his tourmaline, is doser to the conditions of the sensible than Kant, with space and time' (DR 222). Novalis, as well as being the archetypal Romantic poet, also trained as a mining engineer, and saw in crystallization 'schemata of inner transformations' (Novalis 1977: III: 389) more profound

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rl Deleuu and tAt Uncomciotl.S

than Kant's schematism, which he thought restricted merely to 'outer sensi-

~~~'. Kant's schematism of space and time remained at the level of merely visibfL roles of the order of manifold space or of extemive objects' (Novalis 1977; II: 390), Crystalfonnation ill intensive in the further sense that it is punctuated by geometrical sinp.lt:niJ:ia; these singularities are nevertheless precipitated by duration. But if crystallization is the key to the 8chemadam, and if 'every body has its time - (and] every time its body' (Novalis 1997: l~), then crystal fonnation can also unlock the fonn of consciousness itself: 'The interior resonance of consciousness - of representation under all its forms - is that of a crystallisation, of a foqnation and a diversification' (Novalls 1966; 285) .18 Deleuze cites Novalls as one ofhis two main influences among the posl_ Kantians (along with Solomon Maimon) (01 114), but if Novalis's excavations of intensive transformation are closer to the conditions of the semible than Kant's theory of space and time in the Critique ofPuR &ason, then pe.rhaps he does not get that much closer than Kant himself, when he descends into the crystal grotto in the Critique ofJ ~ Deleuze's interest in Novalis may arise as much from his conception of a 'magical idealism' as from his ideas about time and space. Novalis identified a kind of 'transcendental poetry' from which 'a tropology can be anticipated which comprehends the laws of the symbolit: comtruditm of the transcendental world' (Navalis 1997: 57). His reflections on the schematism meet up with an appreciation of the power of symbolism, the combination ofwhich ushers in the final, 'magical' form of idealism, after Fichte (ibid.: 107). 'If you cannot make your though IS indirectly (and accidentally) perceptible, then do the reverse make external things directly (and arbitrarily) perceptible ... Make external things into thoughts ... Both operations are idealistic. Whoever has them both perfectly in his power is the fIUlgical idealisf (ibid.: 126) . Philosophically, Novalis's project is rooted in the attempt to synthesize the productive imagination with symbolism, the positive but indirect presentation of the Idea. To the extent that DeJeuze's project (at least up until Differmu and Repetition) tends towards the same end, it too is a magical idealism. The difference is that Delew..e's post:Jungian theory passes through the theory of the unconscious. The task of producing an (J priori synthesis of the productive imagination with the symbol and with artistic creation is an attempt to chart the ttnctmSci.ow origin and destination of cognition and affection.

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Schema and Symbol

Howell

Let us probe funher into Deleuze's account of the relation between schema and symboL We know that Deleuze never just interprets Kant for reasons of pure scholarship. His aim is always to transform Kantianism for his own purposes, and in Kant's theory of symbolism he glimpses an opponunity to introduce a very far reaching innovation. We have already seen that De1euze finds in Kanrian schematism a pure, a priori and productive use of the imagination which produces fonns within what might be termed the 'free mate-

forrnati the full tiotemF descen1 thecm potenti ducing

The World as Symbol: Kant, Jung and DeJeu.r.e

121

rials' of the spadotemporal manifold itself. Deleuze reminds us that Kant's theory of space and time is TOOted in his early theory about incongruent counterparts, which already suggeslS that space has an inner, intensive form (the division between left and right. above and below). Deleuze suggests that the schemati8m points t:owa.rds a 'dramatization' of Ideas in the intensive experience of space and time; he rests his case on instances from psychiatry (e.g. the obsessive who shrinks the belkope). However, in his 1965 essay on Kant's aesthetics, Deleuze qualifies his use of the schematism, and suggests that another component is required for this model of the schematism to truly work. 'The imagination does not schematise by itself ... It does so only insofAr as the understanding determines or induces it to do so. It onl" schematises in the speculative interest., as a function of the determin~ concepts of the understanding, when the understanding itself has the legislative role' (DI 58-9/60-1). Although Deleuze attempts to liberate the power of the schematism. by emphasizing Kant's remark that it is a product of the pure imagination rather than the understanding, he also acknowledges that other conditions need to be in place for this liberation to proceed. It is not enough to show that the schematism already has some autonomy from the operations of the understanding; some other positiw task needs to be given to spatiotemporal schematism if it is to reveal another destination. 'It would be wrong to scrutinize the mysteries of the schematism as though they harbour the final word of the imagination in illS essence or in its free spontaneity. The 9chematism is a secret, but not the deepest secret of the imagination'. Left to its own devices, he clai.ms, 'without a concept from the understanding. the imagination does something el!!e than schematizing. In fact, it Tt!fteets'. In other words, it symbolizes. Symbolic cognition no longer determines objec1B but permits the reflective contemplation of objectt; oUlSide merely their conceptual significance. 19 If we relllrn for a moment to our initial discussion of symbolism in Freud and]ung, we are perhaps now able to glimpse the concrete effects of Deleuze's development of a Kant-Jung synthesis in the theory of symbolism. The cross can be taken as a first example; another important example will be introduced shortly. Contra whatJung called the 'semiotic' approach, the cross cannot be reduced to a sign of the event of the crucifixion. but instead functions for the Christian as a. mandala for inexhaustible meditation or 'reflection'. In Kant'S own terms in the Critiqlu ofjutlgmmt., it is not entirely clear how the ccou functions all a symbol, as it does not seem to be a free formation of nature. However, we have seen that Kant also gestures towards a theory of intensive formation and rranllformation, which can be taken up in Deleuzian terms. On the full Deleuzian model, then, the crOllS is the synthesis of two elementary spa.tioternporal, intensive schemati.sms - on the one hand, veilical ascent and descent and on the other, horizontal tension between opposites. As ~ the cross is much mon! than the sum of two ~ectories. By virtue of its implied porential infinity. it divides space itself into four compartmenu, as weD as producing a fifth point. the centre. The synthesis is thua genuinely amplificatory

1.22 (as l:he logical sense of synthesis in Kant requires) insofar as these supervening determinations do not pre-exist the synthesis. The cross is l:herefore a multiplicity (or a 'manifold') as well as being a synthesis. Now, as this multiplicity, it is capable of determining the entirety of space. It can divide up the whole of space. But this in turn takes it out of space, as it thereby becomes a pure, a f1riori spatial determination;.a schema in other words. In other words. the cross functions as an iIkal multifJl.if:itJ. But let us now stop to reflect. What does it mean to say that all space can be determined by the form of l:he cross? There is nothing that subjects JPaa Welfto this form, or to any other (the circle, for instance). So where does it find a truly 11n1J1etit: a primiapplication? In fact, its sphere of application emerges only when it becomes a 5'jmhDl of a non-actual Idea. We will develop the question of the role of the Idea in the next section, but let it suffice to mention the Jungian interpretation of the symbolic nature of the cross here, where its significance finally comes from itJI capacity to give a symbolic (albeit abstract) form to the goal of the process of individuation (reconciliation of consciousness and the unconscious). As a symbol, therefore, we can perhaps see why the cross both predates and eKceeds Christianity. What is true of the cross is also true of incest, albeit at a higher power, at a more complex level of individuation: Incest signifies a personal complication only in the rarest cases. Usually incest has a highly religious aspect, for which reason the incest theme plays a decisive part in almost all cosmogonies and in numerous myl:hs. Rut Freud dung to the literal interpretation of it and could not grasp the spiritual significance of incest as a symbol. (lung 1961: 191) Freud had difficulty dealing wil:h the fact that 'incest is traditionally the prerogative of royalty and divinities' (ibid.: 151). In these cases, incest reveals another dimension: as a symbol of rebirth. Incest symbolizes the convergence of two tendencies: temporal regression to the site of one's own binh and sexual reproduction. Incest condenses these two tendencies into one synthetic image of rebirth, or giving birth to oneself. Again, it is an image which assumes a fnWri status as a schematism or dramatization insofar as it synthesizes l:he past and future into one moment. Hence, again, ilS function lies in ordering the process of individuation. Once it has assumed it!! (J priori status as a genuine symbol. it is invoked as a symbol of an ideal telos. the hierogamy between consciousness and the unconscious. But let us now return to our line of argument about the consequences of this synl:hesis of schema and symboL Kant specifies that the kind of reflection at work here is not only a fnWri (as the judgement 'This is beautiful' also is) but ~ objects th.emselve.s (symbolism is absorbed in l:he free materials of nature). Rut in that case, the productive imagination we first encounter in l:he schematism really does find a new, positive and objective determination in the function of symbolism. A genuine transcendental deduction is taking place. 20 It is through symbolism that the schematism is liberated from the l:aSks

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imposed by the understanding, becoming the vehide for the presentation of the ideal. Before turning in detail to the role that Ideas play in symbols. we can already observe that from a systematic point of view, such a reorientation of the cognitive functions is extremely significant. Il suggests that, beneath the Transcendental Deducrion of the Categories (which shows how an a priori svnthesis between pure concepts and pure inruitions guarantees the rule of representation), there is another, more subterranean Deduction, between schematism and symbolism, pure imagination, and pure Idea, which hollows out a passage beneath the sphere of self-conscious, conceptual representation. There is a passage from the pure productive spatiotemporal matrix of the imagination. taken by itself, through to the imensive transformations presented in the 'free materiah of nature', which in turn provide a receptacle for the Idea. Deleuze's excavation of Kant's texts has resulted in the discoverv oc' a secret Transcendental Deduction. running underneath the architectonic of Kant's whole theory of cognition, a vein of gold apparently leading away from the order of representation that rules on the surface. But in order to truly follow this vein, we must also bring about some modifications in our usual conceptions of Kantian subjectivity. Already the suggestion that there are dual trajectories of cognition at work in the apprehension of symbols shows that Kant is no longer presuming a unified, self-conscious subject The imagination reflects on the symbol, while reason is simultaneously interested in it. How can these two activities take place at the same time? Why don't theyjib against each other? The analogical strucrure of the symbol is the key. If reason's interest is satisfied by the symbol, the latter nevertheless remains an indirut presentation of the Idea. As &r as the su~ect is concerned, they are eng3ged in reflection on a beautiful symbol: they are not Cb1I.SCiottsly aware thar the beautiful object is symbolizing an Idea. In the conscious experience of contemplating the white lily, one is simply absorbed in and fusdnated by the lily, but one does not know why. Does it not follow that if consciousness is taken up with the reflection by the imagination arid understanding of the object. then reason's 'interest' in the object is uncon.scious? Kant's whole line of thought points to a splitting of the cognitive subject, with the reflecting subject left unaware of why it is interested in the lily, while reason pursues its paMion unconsciously. With the move to the symbol, Ideas are no longer just objects of thought, but are indirecdy presented in nature. The activity of reason has therefore changed in nature, and that is why we can now talk of an unconscious passion of reason. We have already seen that something like this follows from our account of the movement from projection to the symbol. The very movement from pnr jecrion to the animation of the whole of narure through symbolism meant that the subject had now truly alienated itself within nature, and become other to itself. Now, whereas the model of projection had analogies within both Jungian and Freudian psychoanalysis, this new model of the wodd as illuminated book of symbols has no Freudian correlate. Here it is only the Jungian account of archetypal symbols that finds a potential K:a.ntian

124

Deleuu and the Um:onscious

explanation. Kant's transcendental!:heory of symbolism shows the conditions under which symbolism assumes significance ror cognition, and !:hus offers a tranIlcendental grounding for !:he tum to symbolism in Jung (and Delcure). Kant shows how the subject necessarily confronts the world in an unconscious aearch for symbolic meaning. The task ofJungian psychology is 00 show how lhe subject adwnces precisely from a projective relation to the unconscious to a symbolic relation. ButJung also supplies the conclusion to this movement, which is not spelled out in Kant. 'Individuation' finally occurs when !:he ego is able to affirm the fact that it has been, and will continue to be, merely an actor in a symbolic drama that has long pre-e~ted it. This Kantian cOlUltruction of the 'symbolic order' provides a genesis of the development of the unconscious. But if the model of projection tends towards a paranoiac experience of the unconscious, the symbolic model does appear to tend towards what appears to be a psychofi& reconstruction of the world. As an unconscious seeker ofsymbols, the subject must not only experience its life and the world in the mode of recollection, there is an inexorable and isomorphic tendency towards the paramnesiac immobilization of experience. When the su~ect enteI'5 the panunnesiac vortex of psychosis, the world inevitably bursts aflame with meaning. The subject henceforth has a leading role to play in a drama whose significance is bo!:h undeniahle and obscure. Because the synthesis between schema and symbol is so far-reaching, and can potentially become autonomous of the norms of the understanding, it tends towards a psychotic reconstruction of reality. Butjust as Freud claims that love is a fonn of psychosis, on the model developed in this chapter, we must admit that any. glimmer of beauty or sublimity only flares up because it brings with it a f.riBson of this danger. The symbolizing subject cannot help but experience itself as an actor wandering through a drama larger than it; at each encounter with a crystalline image, it cannot completely suppre8ll the question 'what does this mean, what is this thing trying to tell me?'

Symbolism and Esoteric Mathesis Deleuze's work is littered with references to Symbolist literature (Gerard de Nerwl, Mallarme, Villiers de rIde Adam, Rimbaud, Barbey d'Aurevilly, Sacher.Masoch) and he grnnt!l symbolist aesthetics more credence than would most of his generation. In 'To Have Done with Judgment' (1993), Deleuze returns to his early interest in symbolism, remarking that Nietzsche, Anaud, Lawrence and Kafka all 'could be called symbolists'. Referring to Lawrence's account of symbols (which incidentally was based on Jung'S), Deleuze describes the symbol as 'an intensive compound that vibrates and expands, that has no meaning, but makes us whirl about until we harness the maximum of possible forces in every direction, each of which receives a new meaning by entering into relation with the otheI'5' (CC 134). Deleuze already had an interest in symbolism. before his tum toJung, as is tellrifled by one of his 'repudiated' articles from the 1940s. tl In 1946, Deleuze

wrote a for bearing the one Dr Joh wrote 'Ma

Malfatti's M. Anamhie u [Studies on to MedicineJ numerology Universe, Or ('Only in the sophical noti tectonic of Egg in Life') Antagonism sexuality fro the Double French editi the tint essay, tion in 1946 . Atflrstsigh Who is this uponhiswor nor does it a In the ABC in tion for auth admits to ha: ones who h 'LcommeLit in Deleuze's duction to M occult them 'mathesu' ap weird emp interest in so second birth ideas found . 'sorcery' in subjects to tionship betw how to relate Malfatti is . physician in Schelling's pr (Leaky 1965: 1

The World as Symbol: Kant, Jung and Delew:.e

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125

wro~ a fore~rd to a ,new French edition of a wod of esoteric philosophy bearing the tide Matkesis: (]I" Stutli8s on the Anan:h, and HWrm:h, of KfU1W~ by one Dr Johann Malfatti de Montereggio.2l! DeJeuze was twenty-one when he wrote 'Mathesis. Science and Philosophy' for the first French edition of Malfatti's Matlusisfor a hundred years. n The original textis entitled Shuiim f1ber AntJ1t'me und Hiemrthie tUs Wmens, mit bestmtierer Bt:z.iehung auf die Median [Studies on the Anarchy and Hierarchy of Knowledge, with Special Reference to MedicineJ, and contains five separate but interconnected studies on esoteric numerology ('Mathesis as Hieroglyph Or Symbolism of the liiple llie of the Universe, Or the M~tical Organon of the Ancient Indians'). nature-philosophy ('Only in the Process, Not in the Product'), an application of the nature-philosophical notion of embryogenesis to the whole of human life ('On the Architectonic of the Human Organism, Or the liipJe llie in the Egg and the liiple Egg in Life'), periodicity in ph~iology ('On Rhythm and 'I)tpe, Consensus and Antagonism in General, and Particularly in Man'), and, finally, on human sexuality from the perspective of the esoteric notion of the hermaphrodite ('On the Double Sex in General and on Human Sex in Particular'). In the first French edition of 1849, the entire book has been given the abbreviated tide of the first essay, La MatMu, and the edition to which Deleuze adds h.ia introduction in 1946 is a revised translation of this volume, At first sight, the problem seems to be the obscwity of Malfatti and his book. Who is this Malfatti and by what strange route did the yOWlg DeJeuze come upon his work? The name is not familiar from histories ofWestern philosophy, nor does it appear in histories of Gennan thought in the nineteenth ce~tury. In the ABCinterviews, Deleuze and Parnet discuss Deleuze's Wlusual predilection for authors so obscure that there are not even cults devoted to them. He admits to having a kind of 'mania' in his youth for obscure authors, especially ones who had written litde. and admits that he derived prestige from it (ABC, 'L comme litterature'). Given that Malfatti's name does not appear ever again in Deleuze's writings, we could be forgiven for thinking that Deleuze's introduction to MaJfatti's Matkesis is merely a youthful dalliance with the occult. But occult themes run throughout Deleuze's work: not only does the term 'mathesis' appear at crucial points of DiJfermce and RepetitWn, along with a weird emphasis on the esoteric use of the mathematical calculUll, but his interest in somnambulism, the notion of the world as an egg, the theory of the second birth and the recurring image of the hermaphrodite all refer back to ideas fOWld in Malfatti's book. We will examine the pages on magic and '90fcery' in A 1'hcu.5and Plateaus in the final chapter, as these are distinct subjects to mathesis; nevertheless, it will be impossible to overlook the rela· tionship between them. Deleuze really did look everywhere for ideas about how to relate to the WlconscioUll. Malfatti is indeed obscure, but not completely obscure, He was a Viennese ph~idan in the Gennan Romantic tradition, and an early convert to Schelling's project to synthesize 'Brunonian' medicine with NalJD1lhilnsophiil (Lesky 1965: 10; d. Tsouypoulos 1982); he was sought after as a physician, and

126

Del.ev.u and the Unconscious

became personal physician to members of Napoleon Bonaparte's &mily, and to Beethoven (Alonan 1999), He was one of the main proponents of mesmerism in Vienna (Gauld 1992: 89; Faivre 1996: 53), Studies on tJu Anarch, and HieraTr:h, of KfWWledge was his second book, published thirty-six years after his first, Entwurf liner Padwgenie am der Evolutilm und Reuolutilm des Lebens [Sketch of a Pathogenesis out of the Evolution and Revolution of Life] (1809), Although it is true that he is rarely referred to in histories of Naturphilosophil> and therefore seems a thoroughly marginal figure in intellectual history, his portion of fame does not rest only on his sraws as a physician to royalty and great a.rtists. His Anarch, and.Himm:hy acquired a certain degree of renown in another, more subterranean milieu: the occult circles of fm-de-siUle France. When Rene Guenon, the leading esotericist of his time, reviewed the 1946 edition ofMalfatti (whose book was 'one of those which is often spoken about. but which few have read'), he acknowledged the historkal value of the republication, due to 'the considerable role that this work and others of the same genre played in the constitution of occultism at the end of the 19th century' (Guenon 1947: 88). As David Reggio has shown, Malfatti's influence is fOWld most explicitly in the work of one of the leaders of the movement of Marrinism, Gerard Encausse, otherwise known as 'Papus' (Reggio 2004; on Marrinism, see Harvey 2005).24 The eminent:e grise of Martinism, Stanislas de Guaira. possessed a copy of Malfatti's Mathesis ('an extremely curious and rare' volume, Philipon 1899: 85), and had planned to complete his three-volume opus TJu Serpent ofGenesis with an account of Mathesis (hut he died of a drug overdose at the age of 36, the b09k remaining unfinished), The YOWlg Deleuze begins his preface by stating that although it is essential not to forget the concrete practices deployed in Indian civilization, the 'capiral interest' of Malfatti's book lies in its general reflections on mathesis, which can be of use even to our occidenral mentality, where a dualism between philosophy and science has prevailed.2!i The main applications of Mathesis mentioned by Deleuze are in the fields of medicine and poetic creation. Deleuze acknowledges that his account' of the relations between mathesis, science and philosophy will inevitably leave him on the 'outside' of mathesis, but he nevertheless thinks that it is a philosophw approach that can show how mathesis can continue to remain 'one of the great attiwdes of the mind [l~r (Deleuze 1946: Ix). He promises to criticize the arguments which philosophers have always been tempted to make against mathesis, and also says that Malfatri's text affords us the chance to reflect anew on the meaning of the word 'initiated', which refers to the individuating encounters with the 'principal human realities, binh, love, language or death' (Deleuze 1946: xiii). 'The key notion of mathesis is nothing mysterious', he insists, 'it is that individuality never separates itself from the Wliversal, and that between the living and life one can find the same relation as between life as species and divinity' (xv). The esoteric technique of mathesis is also presented as a solution to the 'anarchic' dualism between mind and body which eats into every fonn oflife

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and knowledge. Mind-body dualism is 'anarchic', beClUl8e sensible qualities can no longer be correlated with the physical quantities that constitute them. In endeavouring [() provide explanations, science had to eliminate sensible qualities to get to the object of thought, which is purely quantifiable. 'When one arrives at H20, there is no more water' (xvi). Conversely, philO!JOphy analyses cognition and knowledge in such a way that actual facts about the physical world are held to be irretewnt. Philosophy is 'reflexive analysis where the sensible world is described as a representation of the knowing subject'. Deleuze notes that the opposition belWeen science and philosophy goes beyond the simple opposition of :object of thought - thinking subject', What really happens is that in both cases the sensible world is being referred to a tJwught beyond it: in the case of science, to thought conceived as purely objective, in the case of philosophy, to thought conceived as an act of the subject.. 'The object of thought is not onlY "thought~ like the thinking subject, it is also object" like the sensible object: this is a new depth of opposition' (ibid.). Colour, for instance may be 'subjective' in that its sensible appearance does not belong to objects themselves, which can be reduced to mere vibrations. Nevertheless. it also has its own oijectivicy. 'It is given to the individual. without reference to anything but itself. The individual knows well enough that things have not waited for him to exist' (xvi-vii) , If a three-dimensional shape has three visible sides, then it will have at least six sides in total. Conversely, the six sides of the cube appear in three dimensions. There are intrinsic detenninations of space and colour. We thus have a new duality within tM phenbmenon (of colour, space and time, etc.). The task is then to rela!e the objectivity of phenomenal colour to its subjective, sensible appearances. This would require that 'the object of thought be led back to the sensible, quantity to quality. Let us remark in general that this reduction is itself what is at work in the symbol. Deleuze here connects with an esoteric lradition which upholds the specific reality of the symbol, where symbols ace even monI real than passing reality itself. In 1946. Deleuze had dedicated his article 'From Christ to the Bour· geoisie' to the esotericist and medievalist Marie-Madeleine Davy, whose studies in twe1fth<entury medieval philosophy were centred on the idea that medieval culture involved an initiation into symbolic truths which were only comprehensible to those who had been initiated.!6 She shows how medieval philosophy articulated a series of 'degrees' of the love of God, which would each involve an iniliarion into the deeper truths implicated in the symbols of the age. There were 'secret' levels to symbols which could only be accessed by monks and kings (Davy 1977: 104). The symbol has a 'double depth' (xxiv). Not only does it have a phenomenal appearance (dimensions, shape, colour. etc.); further, using teChniques of numemlog, one can construct an entire 'system of correspondences' that provides us with exactly what we are looking for: an interiorized doubling of matter and meaning. The symbol satisfies thought and sensibility; once a problematic thought has been expressed in a symbol it has been immortalized, and k

>Ianned oUnlof remain-

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127

128

lJeleuu and tN! Unetmsciow

there is nowhere else to go. Where the qualities of the su~ect of science are eliminated by explanation, 'the symbol is such that what symbolises is now the sensible object. with which the knowledge that it symbolises is completely identified' (xix). The symbol, properly understood, is therefore double. 'The sensible object is called symbolic, and the o~ect of thought. losing all scientific signification, is hieroglyph or Number (c1JijJm)' (xxi). 'The symbol is the thought of nui'lWr bectnM masible object (xxiii). Deleuze gives the example of the flag as symbol of the nation, where a sensible object is posited as an incarnation of an object of thought. This ohject is the knowledge (savoir) that it incarnates. But not everything is a symbol; and only certain special things are tnle svrnbols.'D Malfatti tells us that the 'mother-idea' of his studies is 'the unity of science' as speUed out in 'the mystical Orpnonofmathesis of the Indians' (ibid., xxvii). In his opening remarks to the first srudy, on mathesis itself, he assens that metaphysics and mathematics originally maintained a living unity in ancient India. If we look hard enough, we can find in mathematics the 'mute debris of a spirimal monument' (6). Mathematics did not begin as a formal science, but functioned as an essential part of an integrated system of esoteric knowledge about the body and its forces. Its origins were obscure, as everybody who has ever encountered 'mathesis' has regarded it as something that cannot have been created by human beings (1). Without saying how it happened, Malfatti straightaway laments the loss of this original knowledge: Mathesis, broken into its substantial elements, that. is to say. redoubled into metaphysics and mathematics, lost the living milieu of sacred unity. In the first of these sciences, its spirit, deprived of all basis, was absorbed into purely ideal logical forms. and in the latter, it left behind (as its corporeal image) only mute hieroglyphics and uncomprehended symbolic figures [chq]m] , which only preserved a pure quantitative signification. From there. through this disastrous division, idealism and realism arose, like elements contrary to one another, still searching for their point of union; mathesis had ceased to be the universal science of life. (3) With the decline of the original unity, a long history of occlusion foUowed, during which it was only possible to 'undo this dualism ... by means of a certain exaltation and a unitary act of transfiguration. similar to that of our spiritual and corporeal procreation' (4). Immediately, mathesis is related to the sexual act. It is not at all clear which notion is stnnger: the idea that sexual reproduction should have anything to do with some quasi-mathematical type of thought, or the idea of 'spiritual procreation'. In case we were in doubt that we have heard correctly, Malfatti goes on to specify that he is talking of 'an act during which results, at its culminating point. in a double erection [utte double in?dion), on the one hand towards the divine. and on the other hand toward! narore' (4). We need to take a step back. Let us start again by asking what this 'mathesis'

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129

is. In his fascinating 8UlVef of occultist philosophy, the surrealist Sarane Alexandrian connect!J Ma.lfatti's account of 'mathellis' with an older occult tra. dition of 'arithmosophy'. The notion of mathesis, he tells us, is used by theologians and occultists to denote the conjugation of metaphysics and mathematics in a scientia IM, or science of God. For instance. in 1660 the bishop of Vigenavo, Juan Caramuel, wrote a Mathesis m.u.Imt. in which he declared that 'there are numerous questions in the philosophy of the divine which can nOl be understood without matheshl' (cited in Alexandrian 1983: 112). Frances A Yates, the scholar of the Hermetic tradition, has brought to light a tradition of 'mathesis' that first fully emerges in European thought in the work of Ramon Lull, but which has influences further back in Anbic alchemy and the Hennetic writings of thi.rd<enwry Alexandria. Yates's aim was to show that Giordano Bruno wall burned at the stake not because of his affirmation of Copemicanism, but because of hhl attempts to initiate a 'new religion of Love, Art, Magic and Mathesis' (yates 1966: 371; Yates 1964: 354). In his introduction, Deleuze places Malfatti in a more mainstream philosophical tradition, reminding us that, despite his mind-body dualism, Descartes too dreamed of a mo.th&sis universDlis (as reponed by Baillet in his biography). Deleuze could have cited other earlier and later philosophical sources, such as Leibniz or Novalis (both important [0 his work). Leibniz searched for an o.rithmetim ullivmalis or scientia grm.eraIU, which would allow one to deal with all possible permutations and combinations in all dhlciplines. Leibniz's interest in mathematics was subordinated to his desire to find a way to formulate all possible variation and change. Novalis in turn toolt up the project of an aritAmetial unitJmalis (Novalhl 1966: UI, 23-25; Dyck 1959: 22). This universal mathesis was to include 'all mental operations, volitional and aesthetic experiences, and all knowledge' (Dyck 1959: 93). [n his account of arithmosophy, Alexandrian also discusses the later revivals of mathesis in the nineteenth century, bearing the imprint of Kant's influence. The most notable figure in that later trndition is Hoene Wronski, who is one of Deleuze's central references in his avowedly '~oteric' discussion of the caiculWl in Differmu and Repetititm. Alexandrian writes that 'Wronski holds, in occult philosophy. the place that Kant holds in classical philosophy' (Alexandrian 1983: 133). Mter Wronski and Malfatti, philosophical interest in mathesis declines, and the works of Papus and Guaita are notably lacking in philosophical references (apan from to Wronski and Malfatti themselves). But the promises made for mathesis were very great Deleuze cites Malfatti's daim that 'mathesis shall be for man in his relations with the infinite, what locomotion is for space' (Deleuze 1946: xv). For a definition of mathesis, Malfatti himself refers us bad to Proclus's Com,.. mentary on tAt FJTSt Book of Eu£lid's Elent.mts. where the relation between mathesis and mathematics is made explicit. Proclw is one of the most interesting Neoplatonists, and was a toWering figure in fifth-<:entury Alexandrian culture. Some have speculated that the Jewish development of the cabbala originates in hhl thought, and there are similarities between hit ideas and

130

Deleuze and the Unconscious

those of the Hennetic writings. Proclus' discussion of mat/resis reminds us that the word itself is Greek for 'learning'. Proclus' book is a commenrarv on Euclid. but he is particularly concerned to show that while mathematics' is of intrinsic interest, more profoundly it is also 'the science concerned with leaming' (mtJIhematike) (Produs1970: 46). Plato's M8n0and Phaedohadshown that the nature of mathematics leads us hack to a fundamental philosophical question about the nature of knowledge. The ideal foons of mathematics cannot be derived from the world of appearance - so how does one tUscO'IJiIYor even learn the truths of mathematics and geometry? Produs is explicit about the implication: the mind can ~eive these foons from nowhere but itself. In the Menu. Plato suggests that it follows that what is described as 'learning' in these cases must be a recollection: 'If you take a person to a diagram. then you can show mostly dearly that learning is a recollection' (Plato. Ph(UtU! 73b). 'Learning' is really the recollectilm of truths that have been forgotten: a, reminiscence, an anamnesis, an unforgetting - an overcoming of amnesia. It is necessarily so because one can neither learn what one already knows. nor learn what one does not already know (for how could one recognize its validity, or even know what to look for?). For ProchlS too, mathematics is the product of mathe.si.s, 'the recollection of the eternal ideas in the soul'. Malfatti cites the Latin text of Produs, which begins with the statement that 'Mathesis (disciplina) reminiscnalio est: mathesis is the discipline of reminiscence. According to the tradition, the Pythagoreans recognised that everything that we call learning is remembering, not something placed in the mind from without, like the images of sense pictured in the imagination, nor transitory like the judgments of opinion. Though wakened by sense-perception. learning has its source within us, in ow understanding's attending to itself ... This, then, is what learning [math.esis] is, recollection of the eternal ideas in the soul; and this is why the study that especially brings us the recollection of these ideas is called the science concerned with learning ['IIIO.tMmatike]. Its name thus makes clear what sort of function this science perfonns. (Proclus 1970: 46) Produs adds that this capacity is achieved with the aid of the god Hennes (Thoth) who 'through ow searching tum.s us back on ourselves', and 'through our birth-pangs perfects us', leading us to the blessed life (47). With his notion of mathesis, Produs goes further into the esoteric ideas found in Plato's texts about reminiscence. ProcbJS was a practitioner of theurgy, and developed ideas about 'astral bodies' within the Neoplatonic tradition. Bm these ideas and practices would JX>SSibly not have arisen had not the notion of reminiscence produced a powerful motivation for the development of a theory of the unconscious. Matlwis is remembering truths that one has buried in one's mind, but which for some reason have been forgotten. Mathematical and geometrical truths are in the mind, and all a 'teacher' needs to do is to show the student how to remember.

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131

But. if this is right. then conversely the mathematical fonDS discovered can themselves he put to use in the recovery of further eternal forms derived from them. In fact, in the TIt1UMIJ.S, Plato constructs the soul out of all the mathematical forms, divides her according to nwnbers, binds her together with proportions and hannonious ratios, deposits in her the primal principles of figures, the slraight line and the circle, and sets the circles in her moving in intelligent fashion. All mathematica1s are thus present in the soul from the first. (Proclus 1970: 14) The goal of Proclus' account of mat~is is therefore to restore nwnber and geometry to their original metaphysic.al meaning (Malfatti directly foUows him on this). But Produs draws a further implication which is not yet crystal clear in Plato's writings.lfmathematic.al forms are ultimate realities, they must have their own ontological form, their own kind of reality and even their own 'movement' - insofar as geometry, for instance, has its own geneses (for instance in the detennination of conic sections, to which Delewe refers now and again), or insofar as mathematics can generare iUl own series. This mathematical reality and movement must be distinguished from the realities and movements found in physical reality. Proclus makes a distinction between at least three kinds of cognition: that based on the senses; that based on the intellect, which is motionless; and that based on intuition, which can discover the special ·movements' that are proper to the forms. but which are not like physical movements. The mind that intuitively contemplates the pure fOIIDJl 'is not motionless, like that of the intellect, but because it!! motion is not change of place or quality, as is that of the sense, but a life-giving activity, it unfolds and traverses the immaterial cosmos of ideas. now moving from first principles to conclusions, now proceeding in the opposite direction, now advancing from what it already knows to what it seeks to know' (16). These fonnal movements, or 'living fonns', are different in kind from sensible movements. If there are inrervals and series in mathematics, these are not to be modelled on empirical spatiotemporaJ intervals and series. 'Our sense perceptions engage the mind with divisible things', but 'every divisible thing is an obstacle to our remming upon ourselves' (46), Similarly, the fonned things we project in OUT imagination risk separating us from the formation that is proper to ideas themselves. When we 'remove these hindrances', we can become 'producers of genuine knowledge' (46). The forms are 'living and intelligible paradigms of visible numbers and figures and ratios and motions' (15). 'Before the nwnbers, the self-moving nwnhers', says Produs, just as 'before the visible figures the living figures' (ibid.). ~aJfatti remarks that the knowledge and techniques of mathesis were kept secret for two reasons. The first reason was because great truths are wisely protected from profanation (6). The Christian fathers were incapahle of restraining themselves from attacking oriental mysticism, and so secrecy has been necessary. But Malfatti gives a more profound reason: the Organon has been

132 kept secret because it positively cannot be communicated in words. The Vedic tradition, Hennelism, NeoPlatonism and Renai&sance alchemy all instead communicated their ideas through hieroglyphs and symbolic numerology. Of these symbols, Malfatti writes: 'It is necessary that the spirinW intuition that one discovers in them to be perceived in the shortest space of time, and also that the phyaical apparitions obtained through efforbl undertaken should also take place in the minimum possible extension' (6). The mind seeks adequ.a.te knowledge of eternal truths. The only way to gain adequate knowledge of such an o~ect is by means of an intuition which can be spatiotemporally contracted into a symbol and which can be contemplated in the 'shortest space of time' and in 'the minimum possible extension' . Only in such a case can unity be seized. in diversity in a glance, where the 'general life is in the panicu1ar life, and vice versa', In the introduction to the study on mathesis, Malfatri suggests that the loss of the discipline of mathesi.s was countel1lCted by one fundamental tendency in human beings. It remained possible to undo the dualism between quality and quantity, metaph}'llics and mathematics, through a temporary 'combat' or 'ordeal' that leads in each case beyond the stale of individuality. That is, it is possible to overcome the duality 'by means of a certain exaltation and a unitary act of transfiguration, similar to that of our spiritual and corporeal procreation; an act during which, at its culminating point, this double erection [atte double mttkm] is joined in one part to the divine, in the other part to nature, without, however, being able to remain there. To dwell there too long would in effect lead to the exhaustion and death of the individual' (Malfatti 1845: 4). How are we to understand this splendid 'double erection,?28 Malfatti could be referring to some special kind of sexual technique; perhaps some further physiological and mental excitements of the kind offered by unorthodox medical traditions. such as Jkunonianism or alchemy. are involved. But the sexualized ontology, or cosmic sexuality, also refers back, more profoundly, to the ideas of the esoteric wing of Indian religion, Hindu Tantrism. 29 Given that to dwell in a state of double erection for too long would lead to exhaustion and eYen death, how did 'the Brahmans' manage to maintain themselves in the perspective of matbesis to such an extent? The answer is straighcforward. This people consecrated their whole existence to the contemplative life, at the price of the greatest individual sacrifices. of the most complete abnegation, exemplified in the numerous gytnn080phers and solitaries who inspired the highest admiration among the Greeks. That is how and why they could attain the highest elevation and maintain their spiritual transfiguration by the reiteration and exaltation of their acts. (Malfatti 1845: 4) In a footnote Malfatri remarks that the prophets produced their prophecies through this act of r.ransIiguration, as did the saints their divine intuitions. He

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vidual \erous unong mand ion of

133

cites Dionysius the Areopagite, who describes how, once one has been penetrated by the rays of divine oracles, it is necessary to proceed with 'sobriety and sanctity' so that we can 'adapt to these eminent. splendoun of divine things'. Malfatti then remarks that: That which, in the contemplation of life, was attained in principle thro~h the mortification of the senses, by the abasement of the individual, has been 8ulMect to renewed research in our times (although rarely with enough purity and elevation) through the means of a son of artificial anticipation of death (animal magnetism). The same fact has long been observed in the case offonuitous alterations of health, which have for their particular effect the concentration and momentary elevation of the somatic life of the individual In the first case it is called artificial somnambulism, in the second case spontaneous somnambulism. (Ma.If3.tti 1845: 4-5) For Malfatti, there is something ecstatic about this proceu of self-heaIing through natural somnambulism, Whereas Schopenhauer believed that the prime example of natural somnambulism was in instinct in general, for Malfatti, natural sornnambulWn too needed to be understood as an ecstatic state. Such 'transfigurations' lie behind 'the idea of rebirth (pali~) among the Indians, who, as one knows, describe themselves as twice born' (Malfatti 1845: 5), The implication here is that spontaneous somnambulilm emerges in a person's psychological life like a rebirth, and demands a technique to mediate the reiteration and exaltation of this change, What fIOuods very much like madness or a psychotic breakdown for Malfatti becomes a precious oppommity to advance to a higher stage of equilibrium, In the same passage, he cites Hippocrates's dictum that 'something divine is hidden in illnesses', Natural and artificial somnambulism tap into the same forces at work in the disciplines of the original 'Brahmans'. The Indians discovered 'the admirable mystical Organon of mathesis' as the means of reiterating and exalting their acts following their 'second birth', Contemporary nature-philosophical medicine should therefore return to Indian tradition in order to make known the secrets of this method of mathesis. 'What an astonishing advantage man has drawn from the night-side of his life: w open up thro~ sleep {SOI1U1Vil], by means of a st:at.e of in~rior vigil (the vigil of sleep [Ia 'fNI!ilIe du sommeil.I), the highest, most hidden l1lItral region: this is what the magnetic development of clairvoyance and ecstasy demoWltratell to us, in the same way as the natural life of dreams' (M.a.1fatti 1845: 153). MaJfatti's Anan:hy an.d Himm:hy of KfI.OllIi8dge is like a Book of the Dead charged with lanuillm, It suggests that under the appropriate, somnambulistic conditions, the internal symbolic structure of the universe be divined according to a. theosophical conception of the microcosm. In BOhme's theosophy, the course of the world, its development in nature and history, was undersrood as the manifestanon of a drama taking place in God himself, The human being is a microcosm, in that it contains every level of physical, organic

may

,r

134 and psychic differentiation that exists in the macrocosm. In his later work, Schelling developed a nature-philosophical theory of 'potencies'. according to which the increasing accwnulation of dialectically interrela.ted levels of being (physical, organic, telluric, uranic) could be proponionally related to each' other in an e8
The Sexual Act of the Divine Hennaphrodite The last study of The Anarch, and Hierarr:h" of K1ItJWledge takes up another central symbol of Hermetic and alchemical thought: the hennaphrodite, whose scintillating image also penneates Deleu.ze's work.. In the CriJ.i.qtJ8 of JuJ.gment. Kant says that 'the ideal of the beautiful (is] the human figuwl (Kant

,I

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later work, :cording to :ls of being ed to each "liques, the llholism of ~d by self,r artificial 'Ie into the len, unconby me play ierarchyof res and me ilt what me ng Malfatti, itself as the increasingly ~s aze to be ial symbolic )f symbolist >ythe moveters the fan,

not directly folding and r.ed world, as gold'. As if, with TOse-lit , his wife as ~mbodying a express pure happens in ,re-individual >em is in turn ld involution lat the world

Ite up another :maphrodite, ne

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I ~

The World as Symbol: Kant, lung and De/ew;e

135

1790: AIL 2~). 'An ideal of beautiful flowers, of beautiful furnishings, orota beautiful view is unthinkable. But an ideal of a beauty ... that has the purpose of exislence within irseIr - an ideal symbol in other words - such an ideal could only be found in 'man' (ibid.). For MalfaUi and DeJeuze the supreme syrnlxJl in the seme just explained is not simply 'man', but the hermaphrodile, no matter how rare such a figure is in the actual world. The rarity of orchids and gold enhances rather than diminishes their symbolic value. But in any case, according (0 Malfatri, the 'hermaphrodite' is a 'living symbol' in a very special sense. In Anarch, and Hiero:rch, MaHatti can everywhere be found arguing delirioWlly that sexual polarity is present in all the forces of the universe. Even more deliriously, he goes on to infer that the separate sexes themselves are not to be spared from this polarity, and that sexual polarity is in tum to be found within each sex. "'Man is dupl8x, aM if man wne not dupl£x, theR UKJUlD, be no senso.titm.", the incomparable Hippocrates once said. In two sepazated bodies live man and woman, and each one however possesses in itself the body of the other, each one is in irself Androgyne and Gynander at the same time; it is only a prevalence of one over the other which separates them and differentiates them , .. It is for that reason that a sex.ual separation of the body was necessary, both parts remaining masculine-feminine and feminine-masculine' (Malfatti 1845: 168; d. 164). So as in Schelling's laler theosophical thought, me world is the body of God, and we are its coming to consciousness. The human being is a microcosm, in that it contains every level of physical, organic and psychic differentiation that exists in me macrocosm, in a more interiorized or virtualized form. But in .~n.an:hy aruJ Hierarchy it is as if Schelling's final theosophy comes tD completion in a hallucinatory Tantrism, in which the living body of God, in its most complete self-development, itself appears in hermaphroditic form in human sexuality, where the coming-to-divine-eonsciousness becomes identical to the psychosexual attainment of spiritual 'bisexuality'. MalfaUi generates the relations of polarity and power at the 'telluric', 'magnetic' or somnambulistic and 'asual' [.si.tUml] or ideal levels of differenti- . arion. The intestines are the zoo-vegetable envelope of 'telluric' forces; the heart is the animal envelope of the magneric atmosphere, while the brain is the envelope of the astral soul. Each of these anatomical divisions is conceived as an embryo or egg, developing in parallel with the others. There is the stomach egg, with its satellites of liver and spleen; the breast-egg, with its satellites oflungs and kidney, and the head-egg with its satellites of eye and ear. The roadie egg develops at each level in triple form, but is only fully born with the psychosexual attainment of the state of hermaphrodite, in which a polarized "double body' with a 'double sex' expresses analogically all macTOcosmic relations of power in perfect microcosmic form. Perhaps all that Malfatti means by this 'hermaphrodite' is the sexual couple itself. In the sexual act, the double body finally achieves a 'momentary reunion' that amounts to a complete self-consciousness, a perfect doubling or

136

De1.euz.l! and the Unconscious

reflection. The virtual, opposite-8exed body of each is incarnated in the other. 'Through an effort. an act in which the relativity of the sexes neutralise themselves, the sexual couple can 'approach for a moment the hermaphroditic state' (168). On MaIfatti's somnambulist model, the sexual act does involve a peculiar kind of consciousness. in which male and female finally attain a hermaphroditic species consciousness. !Ill The deepest level of consciousness, therefore, the most ~ level of consciousness, therefore. is discovered in the act of sexual coupling. However, he also insists that each person is already a doubled body. The human being is psychically and sexually 'duplex', 'The double body is a twin and bisexual' (174). If one is already a 'hennaphrodite' insofar as one is (in some sense) both female and male, anima and lJftimus (166.181), then in the sexual encowlter a hermaphrodite takes another hermaphrodite as its o~ect. In that case, sexual cotW:i.ousness would be the fulfilment of self-consciousness because one's object is an incarnation of an image that must remain virtual in oneself (due to the actual preponderance of male or female biological attribUtes).!l But as a symbol Malfatti's hermaphrodite also suggests an original sexual matrix for all sexual relationships. Heterosexual relationships already implicate within them a duplicity, in that the anima in a man can also be in a iove-relationship with the animus of the woman. The full polarity of heterosexuality involves the love of a man-woman for a woman-man. In AnDOedipus, the 'vegetal theme' of hermaphroditism reappears: 'everyone is bisexual, everyone has two sexes, but partitioned, noncommunicating, the man is merely the one in whom the male pan., and the woman the one in whom the female part, dominates statistically. So that at the level of elementary combinations, at least two men and two women must be made to intervene to constitute the multiplicity in which tra.nsverse commwtications are established' (AO 69). This relation is actualized in the couple if one keeps Malfatti's hermaphrodite in mind. Nevertheless, for finite beings, there remain the three possibilities of sexual love: heterosexuality, and male and female homosexuality. Within each sex alone, there can be no essential privilege of heterosexual or homosexual object choice, only a combinatory of possible relationships. In fact, Deleuze sa}'S that homosexual relationships even have a privilege. We live under Samson's prophecy: 'The two sexes shall die, each in a place apart'. But mattera are complicated because the separated, partitioned sexes coexist in the same individual: 'initial Hermaphroditism', as in a plant or a mail, which cannot be fertilized 'except by other hermaphrodites'. Then it happens that the intermediary, instead of effectirig the communication of male and female, doubles each sex with itself: symbol of a self4'erti.lization all the more moving in that it is homosexual, sterile, indirect. And more than an episode, this is the essence of love. The original Hermaphrodite continuously produces the two divergent homosexual series. (PS 80)

In" long auton itycre of the

The World as Symbol: Kant. lung and Deleu.ze ~

other. themlroditic ~

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137

Indian religion, Tantrism and esoeericism experimented with homosexuality long before it became an issue of the State: it was not just pan of the autonomous combinatory of sexes and their relations, but by virtue of its sterility creates the conditions for what Malfatti calls a 'spiritUal amnion'. the womb of the ideal. However, homosexuality may take many different forms: a heterosexual couple may be homosexual insofar as the male loves the male in the other. while the female in turn loves the female. Alternatively. the physical sameness of the other body in actual male homosexuality, say. may be compensated by the pretence of two virtual lesbians - and vice versa. At the other extreme would be the celibate, creative h'ermaphrodite with his or her 'amniotic effigy' (Malfatti 1845: 186), the creative work. With the liberation of the double-sexed hennaphrodite, in whatever form, the gates are opened for the human being to become a libidinal microco&m. no longer symbol of mater Mtum, but of the cQ&mic body of God, the 'Tantric egg' (ATP 15:i), or what Deleuze and Guattari rechristen the 'body without organs'.

Chapter 5

Jung, Leibniz and the Differential Unconscious

unco into theb

We wh

'Problems and questions, .. belong to the unconscious, but as a result the unconscious is differential and iterative by nature: it is serial, problematic and questioning' (DR 108). In his 1980 lectures on Leibniz, Deleu.ze says: it is Leibniz who first proposed this great idea., this first great theory of this differential unconscious, and it has never gone away since. There is a very long tradition of this differential conception of the unconscious based on minute perceptions and minute appetitions. It culminates in a very great author, who, strangely, has always been poorly understood in France, a German post-Romantic named Fechner. He is a disciple of Leibniz who developed the conception of the differential unconscious. (Third Lecture on Leibniz, 12) For Bergson, Fechner was the psychophysicist par excellence, onc;: of the founders of the 'reign of quantity'. But although he is largely remembered in this way toclav (every psychology textbook has a chapter on Fechner's psychophysics), Fechner is a multifaceted figure, being also the author of numerous works both satirical and esoteric, ranging from a treatise on 'The Comparalive A~, of A~ (1825). through the Little Book ofLife after Deatll, to later works on the psychology of plants. I But Deleuze also states thatJung is a Ihird figure in Ihis 'differential' tradition of the unconscious. There is a psychology with Leibniz's name on it, which was one of the first theories of the unconscious. I have already said almost enough about it for you to understand Ihe extent to which it is a conception of the unconscious which has absolutely nothing 1:0 do with Freud's. , . [However] in the lineage that proceeds from Freud, some very strange phenomena will be found, [which] return to a Leibnizian conception' (Third Lecture on Leibniz, 9). Deleu.ze sa~ he will tal.k about this later, but unfonunately he only devotes a short paragraph to following up what happens in 'Freud's posterity' (ibid.: 14). He sa~: 'For example, inJung, there is an entire LeibniZlan side, and what he reintroduces, to Freud's greatest anger - and it is in this that Freud judges that Jung has absolutely betrayed psychoanalysis - is an unconscious of a differential type. And he owes that to the tradition of German Romanticism which is closely linked also to the unconscious of Leibniz' (ibid.). This is the most problematic of Deleuze's suggestions, as although here and there Jung does mention

I

I'

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lung, Leibniz and the Differential Unconscious

139

Leibniz's theory of pelius peruptiqw, as well as Fechner's threshold notion of the unconscious, it is hard to see these discussions as decisive for Jung's theory of the unconscious. In his overviews of the history of the concept of the unconscious.Jung does mention the important rote played by Leibniz, There had been talk of the unconscious long before Freud. It was Leibniz who first introduced the idea into philosophy' (CW 8: 102; cr. CW 16: 139). In a lecture of 1914,just after the break with Freud. he says: It the cand

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We mav define the unconscious as the sum of all those psychic events which are not apperceived, and so are unconscious. The unconscious contains aU those psychic events which do not possess sufficient intensity of functioning to cross the threshold dividing the conscious from the unconscious, Thev remain, in effect. below the surface of consciousness. and flit by in subliminal form. It has been Known to psychologists since the time of Leibniz that the elements, that is to say the ideas and feelings, which mak.e up the conscious mind - its so-called conscious content are of a complex nature, and rest upon far simpler and altogether unconscious elements; it is the combinations of these which produces consciousness. Leibniz had already mentioned the pm:eptions insensibla - those vague perceptions which Kant called 'shadowy representations' , which could attain to consciousness only in an indirect manner. (CW 3: 20~)

In his lecrnre 'Instinct and the Unconscious', Jung also introduces a:threshold' conception of the unconscious familiar from Leibniz (although Leibniz's name is not mentioned); I define the unconscious as the totality of all psychic phenomena that lack. the quality of consciousness. These psychic contents might fittingly be called 'subliminal'. on the assumption that every psychic content must possess a certain energy value in order to become conscious at all. The lower the value of a conscious conrent falls, the more it disappears below the threshold. (CW8: 133)

Jung also twice cites a remark of Fechner's about the necessity of an idea of the 'threshold of consciousness' for understanding the unconscious: the idea of a psychophysical. threshold is of the utmost importance because it gives a firm foundation to that of the lIDcOnscious generally. Psychology cannot abstract representations from unconscious perceptions, nor even from the effects of unconscious perceptions . . . Perceptions and representations in the state of unconsciousness have, of course, ceased to exist as real ones ... but something continues in us, psychophysical activity. (Fechner 1860: II, 438; cited in CW 8: 164, 166)2

r140

Deltuu and the UnconscWw

In an important passage from ThJns.furrnobons and S,mhols of the LibiJD, Jung discusses the unconscious in tenns very similar to Leibniz. Jung discU88es the possibility that the ideal creations (for instance, poems or art) of somebody undergoing a psychotic break might contain 'presentiment[s) of the future'. The patient might be subject to 'one of those thoughts which, to quote Maeterlinck, spring from the 'inconsdent superieur', from the 'prospective potency' of a subliminal synthesill'. In a footnote he expands in the following vein:

Doubtless the unconscious contains material which does not rille to the threshold of consciousness. Analysill dillsolves these combinations into their historical determinants ... Psychoanalysis works backwards like the science of history ... History, however, knows nothing of two kinds of things, that which ill hidden in the past and that which ill hidden in the future ... Insofar as tomorrow is already contained in today, and all the threads of the future are in place, so a more profound knowledge of the past might render possible a more or less far-reaching and certain knowfedge of the future. Let us transfer this reasoning, as Kant has already done, to psychology ... Just as traces of memory long since fallen below the threshold of consciousness are accessible in the unconscious, so too there are certain very fine subliminal combinations of the future, which are of the greatest significance for future happenings insofar as the future is conditioned by our own psychology . . . From this comes the prophetic significance of the dream long claimed by superstition. (CW 5: 50, 5ln.) Thill passage seems perfectly acceptable as an amplification of Leibnizian conceptions of the unconscious, particularly of the passage from the New EwJy! on the ~ panttJ (Leibniz 1765: 54-5; d. p. 42 above). However, Jung himself does not put it in such a context, and also says at the beginning of the passage that 'this time I shall hardly escape the charge of mysticillm'.!. Nevertheless, the claim that 'the unconscious also contains all the material that has not yet reached the threshold of consciousness (CW 7: 128) ill not in itself mystical as long as the 'productivity' or 'positivity' of the unconscious in its relations to the ego is undel"ltood in its complexity. It ill possi.ble hut not likely that these sort of passages provoked Freud's 'greatest anger', and that he thought they 'absolutely betrayed psychoanalysis'. But Freud does not ex:plicidy express any anger about this aspect of Jung's thought. Freud's greatest anger (if that is the right word) with Jung seems to have been about his resistance to the sexual theory (see, for instance, SE 14: 58-66, 79-80). His main bone of contention against Jung does not seem to have been against his reviwl of Leibnizianillm. We saw that Deleuze indicates that in the work OfJWlg, 'some very strange phenomena will be found, [which] return to a Leibnizian conception' (Third Lecture on Leibniz, 9). This is -vague, but there is one last due. In summing up the contributions of the Leibnizian conception of the unconscious to

, I I

Jung, Leibniz. and the Difft:rentiol Unconscious

141

psychology, Deleuze also UlleS the example of rumour: 'You can grasp the concept of singularity ... on the level of thought-experiences of a psychological type: what is dizziness, what is a munnur, what is a rumour?' While the example of dizziness refers back to Leibniz, the ex:ample of rumour might wen refer to Jung, who wrote 'A Contrihution to the Psychology of Rumour' (CW 4), and who says, in his essay on UFO hysteria., that rumour is an essential mechanism for the activation of archetypes. Rumours of UFOs might arise from a 'primary fantasy originating in the unconscious', 80 that 'an archetype creates the corresponding vision' (CW 10: 313). However, he adds there that the relation between archetype and the romOW' cannot be understood as causal: 'the meaning of the rumour is not exhausted by its being explained as a causal symptom; rather, it has the value and significance of a living symhol' (CW 10: 387). We have already encountered Jung's subtraction of the dimension of causality from symbolism. But hereJWlg seems to want to make a more radical claim: the process of activation is not an objective causal mechanism, and, it would seem, is also more than a triggmng of a latent subjective potential. 'To these two causal relationships we must add a third possibility, namely, that of a 'synchronistic', i. e. acausal, meaningful coincidence - a problem that has occupied men'. minds ever since the time of Geulinc.z;, Leibniz and Schopenhauer' (CW 10: 313).Jung claims that the correspondence of archetype and rumour must be understood as a properly acawal process. It would seem, then, that in our pursuit of references to make sense of Deleuze's claim that there is a differential unconscious in the work. ofJung, all the evidence is pointing us to the phenomena that Jung classed under the term 'synchronicity'. In fact, it turllS out that the only substantial references to Leibniz inJung's work occur in the context of the latter's exposition of synchronicity. Now, Deleuze never explicitly refers to this concept in his work. So it remains moot whether these 'very strange phenomena' refer to manifestations of archetypes in general, or to so-called phenomena of synchronicity. The fact that Jung's investigations into synchronicity are indeed an investigation into 'strange phenomena', and the fact thatJWlg only really lU:tively Ulle9 Leibniz's philosophy in his work on synchronicity suggest that it is the latter. There are other considerations that will also come up when we explore this line of thought.

Synchronicity: Acausal Synthesis 'Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle' is a late work of jung's, published in 1952 in a volume entitled No.tuR'rltltirungundP.s,dre {translated in 1955 as The I~ ofNtJture and ITyche, along with a paper on 'The Influence ofArchetypal Ideas on the Scientific Theories of Kepler', by the ph)'llicist Wolfgang Pauli, who had won a Nobel Prize in 1945. Despite the credentials of JWlg's coUahorator, .Synchronicity' is probably the work which has most contributed to Jung's reputation, in some quaners, as a raving New Age madman. He claims to have discovered an 'lU:ausal' principle which allows us to discover a certain senu or meaning in certain coincidental relationships

142 between causally disconnected events. 'Evidence' is supplied from the domains of parapsychology (ESP), astrology and dreams to apparently luggest that these acausal connections are really 'out there', that there is a mysterious dimension of correspondences at work beneath our superficial, everyday experience, and which is perhaps located at the micropbysica1level only accessible to quantum physics. ButJung's theory of synchronicity is in fact open to another, less 'realist' interpretation. For most of the essay, Jung is COntent to reduce parapsychological phenom· ena to projected expressions of the collective unconscious. In a key passage. he concludes that 'synchronicity is a phenomenon that seems to be primarily connected \\ith psychic conditions. that is to say, with processes in the unconscious' (CW 8: 511). Moreover, his central arguments are built on philosophical texts and arguments, not on direct evidence of parapsychological phenomena.. nor on quasi-6Cientific speculation aboUt quantum indeterminacy. jung claims that an essay on fate by Schopenhauer 'originally stood godfather to the views I am now developing' (CW 8: 427), and in later pagel' there is a disquisition on ~ibniz's theory of pre-established hannony. Jung's discussion emerges oUt of the philosophical context of the problem of psychophysical parallelism, and he considers the 'principle of acausal connection' to be a contribution to that problem. His basic definition of synchronicity is a philosophical one: the 'coincidence in time of two or more causally unrelated events which have the same or a similar sense [Smng¥'haltJ' (CW 8: 441; trans. modi6ed).~ An event occurs in an objective sequence of events which has a 'parallelism of sense' with an event in a subjective series, yet lacks any causal connection with it. There are ample indications that jung intends his core idea to be interpreted at a 'transcendental' rather than a realist or a merely psychological level. Jung begins the text by questioning the range of the framework of universal causality, Causality is defined as the regular correlation of events under repeatable conditions. On this model, causality becomes a 'statistical truth', incapable in principle with dealing with 'unique or rare events' or 'exceptions' (421):5 The experimental method of inquiry aims at establishing regular events which can be repeated. Consequently, unique or rare events are ruled out of account. Moreover, the experiment imposes limiting conditions on nature, for its aim is to force her to give answers to questions devised by man, (CW 8: 422)6

Jung notes that causality is usually put in opposition to 'the world ofchance' (423), but he immediately states that, as a rule, it should always be taken as possible to reduce what appear as chanu correlations down to universal causality, (In the PWjsics Aristotle had suggested that the perception of 'chance' depends on the expectations of the perceiver.) The appearance of an event as random is not enough to suggest that it is truly unique or

Jung, Leilmiz and tJu DifJmmtial Utuonsciow n the uggest enous eryday accespenta enorn-

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chance' taken as miversal ption of .ranee of uque or

143

singular; regularities might in principle be discovered if one looks widely enough. But if chance events are not 'acausal', then what could possibly fulfil the conditions of being the 'unique or care event' which exemplifies acausality?7 Jung states that 'acausal events' may only be assumed to exist 'where a causal connection appears to be i ~ W (ibid.: 424). Jung seems ro want ro suggest a strong sense of inconceivability here. In his 1951 Eranos lecture on 'Synchronicity" he sets out three t¥J>es of connection in which causality is inconceivable (CW 8: 526). The fint and second types give him the notion of 'synchronicity', but the third is not synchronous at all, and lung's classification of it as synchronistic is quite intriguing. The first type of acausal connection gives us the basic form of synchronicity. It is inamtei.vablt that two simulttJneous events have an immediately causal connection. This is obviously true; a simultaneous relation is by definition not successive; so what? Jung goes on to specuy that he is concerned with 'the coincidence in time of two or more causally unrelated events whi4:h ho.ve the same (1f a similar sense, in contrast to 'synchronism', which simply means the simultaneous occWTence of two events' (CW 8: 441). Hence 3. connection can be synchronous without being synchronistic. With this type, Jung seems ro be primarily interested in coincidences between the objective, causal sequence of events on the one hand, and the subjective sequence of internal events (subjective trains of thought and desire) on the other. Thus this type of synchronicity occurs within the experience of one su~ect. What they see with their senses has an acausal correspondence with what they are thinking. We will qualify this later, but it is probahly easiest to start with this model in mind. We should note that, formally, the definition of this first type of synchronicity is identical to the fonnula invoked in rigorous theories of psychophysical parallelism, such as that found most fiunousiy in Spinoza. For Spinoza, to affirm pa.rallelism between mind and body is to treat causal relarions as only occurring in each heterogeneous series (mind or body), not betuwn mind and body. Parallelism is thus a way of getting out of the problem of the mind-body relation that dogs Cartesian dualism (how is the imma.terial mind supposed ro affect the body. and bodies in general, and how is the body supposed to affect the mind; the problem that led Descartes to his famous postulation of the 'pineal gland'). Thus, in Spinoza's theory. the connection between mind and body at anyone given moment is indeed strictly speaking 'acausal', The difference between Jung and Spinoza is that the former clearly has in mind correspondences between series which are not only different in kind (Spinoza's Thought and Extension. or mind and body), but which contain different contents. For Spinoza, ideas are ideas of the body; what one is thinking about parallels one's bodily state. jung never says this. and his examples show that he is concerned with subjective series which are more or less diverge'llt from o~ective series. The second main type of acausal connection concerns mental events which occur simultmeously with physical events, and appear to be related (insofar as they have a similar sense), but again can have no direct causal relation. this

144

Deleuu and tilt Unconscious

time because their spatial separation makes such a relation impossible. Jung cites Swedenborg's vision of the great fire of Stockholm, whUe he was two hundred mUes away lit a pany in Gothenburg. Swedenborg was himself on his wav home from England to Stockholm. He told the 3.'lSembled guests of the progress of the fire as he saw it bappening, exclaiming relief when it was over, and that it had not damaged his own house. His description of the coune of events was then confinned over the next few days by messengen returning from Stockholm.s The third category of acausal connections is that of precognition, where a mental event is correlated' with a succellSive physical event, but cannot be caused by it, either because of spatial distance or because of temporal disparity (the physical event in question has not yet happened). Jung gives the example of a student who dreams about walking through a Spanish city which he has never visited. Later he visits the city. and experiences everything which was played out in the dream, down to the last detail. Does synchronicity e».st in any Conn, or is all this jUllt a thought-.experiment? Here are two of the main examples given by Jung. The first is from Jung's clinical practice, the like of which he says had nOI bappened to him before, nor had he experienced anything like it since: 'A young woman I was treating bad. at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab.' The scarab, Jung had mused. is the Egyptian symbol of rebirth or renewal. In an Egyptian Book of the Dead. the dead sun-god metamorphoses into a scarab, which then, at the last station of the NethelWorld. 'mounts the barge which carries the rejuvenated sun-god into the morning sky' (CW'8: 4!9). The symbolism of the scarab arises because of iu practice of rolling bits of dung into small baILs imide which the female deposits its eggs (Stevens 1998: :i50). This is already enough to make the sca.rab an unsettling presence in a dream (for aJungian). But nothing prepares for what happens next inJung's account though. 'WhUe she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the dOlled window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gende tapping. I turned around and :taw a flying insect knocking against the window-pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabeid beede, the common rose
Jung, Leibni:. and the Di.f.{ertmtial Unconscious

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145

'coincidence in time oitwo or more causally unrelated events which have the same or a similar sense' (CW 8: 441). Two heterogeneous series of events appear to coincide inexplicably. The patient in the first example sees what she has dreamt (in her subjective series) actualized in the external world (the objective series). The se~ond example is slightly different in that the two series are 'suQiective' and 'objective' in a looser way. The patient's wife has a series of deaths in her immediate family (the subjective series), and each death is accompanied by an assemblage of birds in die o~ective, external world. In each of these examples, there is an acausa\ connection between mbject and object whicb gives rise to the impression that Nch an event is fllll!lL It is not only that the patient is experiencing the unfolding of her own fate by dreaming of the scarab, but nature itselfseems to be conspiring in her £ate, by sending the scarab to knock on the window. Examples such as these are legion inJung, and he often writes without irony of his own experiences of fatedness. While engaged in painting a picture of a dream image with the horns of a bull and the wings of a kingfisher, Jung was 'thunderstruck' to find a newly dead kingfisher lying in his garden. He takes this as proof of 'psychic objectivity, the reality of the psyche' Gung 1961: 207-8). As further proof ofJung's occult tendencies, we need only recall the incident of the IpOOkery in the bookcase (see note 3, p. 217). At moments such as these, the distinction between su~ect and world cannot but break down; the world no longer seems indifferent to the patient, but the patient is part of a drama that is greater than they can comprehend. The chasm between subjectivity and oQiective, neutral order appears to be somehow bridged, and the subject feels oddly 'at home' in the universe. In his essay on 'The Uncanny' [Das Un/uimli.t/J6], Freud begins his own disquisition on fatednen and all things weird by remarking on the double meaning of the word hei"llit:h. Whereas heimlit;h can mean 'homely' and 'intimate', it can also mean 'concealed, kept from sight, 80 that others do not geno know of or about it, withheld from others' (SE 17: 223). The word heim&h therefore seems to include a meaning which is identical with its opposite, un/uimlit;1J. Freud cites a passage from ScheUing's Philostiph'j of M,t~ which he says 'throws quite a new light on the concept of the lJnJuIimJUh. for which we were certainly not prepared'. Schelling writes: 'Un/uimlUh is the name for e\lerything that ought to have remained ... secret and hidden hut has corne to light' (Schelling 1857: 649).9 For Freud, such 'uncanny' experiences are essentially a return to primary Mrrissirm. This is ultimately what should have remained hidden, but has come to light. And indeed, what could be more narcissistic than experiencing a coincidence as fate? Jungian synchronicity at first sight would seem to be nothing more than an excuse to raise narcissistic supentition up to an Q f1rimi principle. ForJung, the appearance of a dead kingfisher on the lawn after a dream about a kingfillher-man is a momentous 'rupture in time'; for others, such an event by itself would be a cause for mere amusement, but the idea of a psychologist taking it deadly seriously would unleash a wave of hilarity. (Freud himself remarks that the 'unintended repetition' one finds in the uncanny can easily tip over into comedy (SE 17: 231, 246).)

146 A comparison between Freud's and jung's ideas about fate and the uncanny will therefore be apposite here. Is synchronicity narcissism? Jung's

theory of synchronicity competes with Freud's theory of the uncanny in attempting to explain the same psychological phenomena. There is an added motivation in examining this relationship, as it was in his essay 'The Uncanny' (1919) that Freud first suggested the idea of the death drive as a compulsion to repeat. The death drive thus has origins in Freud's discussion of fate. Freud withdrew from some of the more intriguing suggestions ventured in 'The Uneam/y', and ended up affirming a materialistic, therm~ dynamic conception of the death drive in &yond the Pkmu:re Principle, published a year later. In effect. Deleuze follows up the relationship between fate and the death instinct by twuing to Jung's theory of synchronicity, which takes up where Freud left off. jung's investigations into synchronicity were also investigations into the 'paranormal'.w Jung appeals to 'the mass of facts' engendered in studies on 'psychical research', along with]. B. Rhine's more recent experiments on ESP. which are held to furnish 'decisive evidence for the existence of acausal combinations of events' (CW 8: 432), II But he goes on to deny that these findings direcdy imply telepathic communication between two individuals, 'It seems more likely that scientific explanation will have to begin with a criticism of our concepts of space and time on the one hand. and with the unconscious on the other' (CW 8: 435). Although he spends some time examining the possibility of acausal conne~tions at the microphysical level, he concludes, as we have seen, that 'synchronicity is a phenomenon that seems to be' primarily connected with psychic conditions, that is to say with processes in the unconscious' (CW 8: 511). He tales his task to be to search for the 'tertium ccmparationis' of significant coincidences, which he claims 'rests on the psychoid factors 1 call the archetwes' (CW 8: 515), Before saying any more than has already been said about archetypes, it is worth emphasizing this search for a 'tertium quUf, or 'third thing', which guarantees tha.t the conjunction of two contingent events can hear a distinct, but acausal 'sense' .I~

Schopenhauer and the Lines of Fate Jung says that Schopenhauer's essay 'Transcendent Speculation on Apparent Deliberateness in the Fate of the Individual' is 'godfather' to his views, and it does help to explain where he is coming from. There Schopenhauer develops the idea that strict fatalism is confirmed empirically by cases in which future events are predicted in Stales of 'magnetic somnambulism'. second sight and dreams. From such divinations, Schopenhauer contends, 'it follows not merely that events occur with complete necessity, but also that they are in some way determined beforehand and objectively fixed, in that they present themselves to the eye of a seer as something existing' (Schopenhauer 1850: 203-4). This suggesrs a special kind of fatalism, which he calls
, lung. Uibniz and t.he Differential Unconsciow ·/: and the ism? Jung's l1ncanny in 'here is an • essay 'The h drive as a s discussion suggestions ;tic, thermo'inciflle, pub.. )ClWeen fate

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147

but from experiences, Schopenhauer is also interested in how the sense of fatalitv can arise through a process of retrospection which conjures the sense that 'the course of an individual's life, however confused it appears to be, is a complete whole, in hannony with itself and having a definite tendency and didactic meaning, as profoundly conceived as is the finest epic' (Schopenhauer 1850: 204). In this retrospection on the course of life, it appears that everything 'had been mapped out and the human beings appearing on the scene seem to him to be performers in a play' (20.5). Schopenhauer here reflects on the experience of patterns in the course of individuation, which was one of the phenomena which led Freud to link the concept of repetition and the death drive in &yond the Pleastl;R1 Principle. Freud writes of his impression that those subject to repetition compulsion are 'pursued by a malignant fate or possessed by some daemonic power' (SE 18: 21). The phenomena Schopenhauer, Freud and jung have in mind are roughly the same, but whereas all three thinkers agree that the fate of such cases 'is for the most part arranged by themselves' (SE 18: 21), only Freud specifically contends that it is also 'determined by early infantile influences'. Although early infantile experiences are obviously the first act in the drama, the repetitions themselves do not come about because of the infantile experiences. The structure of fare and repetition can be examined independently of the specific events of childhood, because whoJever infantile experiences occur, the unfolding of fatal repetition will take place. ' . Schopenhauer likens the empirical observation of the separate coincidences and fatalities in our lives to the contemplation of a recurrent anamorphic figure, which requires the use of a special conical mirror in order to be seen distinctly. He correlates this anamorphic figure with Kant's notion of an 'intelligible character', distinct from a person's empirical character. But this intelligible character is held to be outside space and time, merely nownenal. How, then, does Schopenhauer think that this 'secret and inexplicable power' actually effectively appears in the phenomenal world, if this latter world is ruled by strict determinism? IT an event occurs in the chain of physical causes, that is all there is to it. and there is no need to postulate some 'intelligible character' behind it On the other hand, Schopenhauer takes intelligihle character to be something noumenally real and freely chosen, and which can thus ground the attribution of responsibility to the empirical character who acts within the phenomenal realm. At this point Schopenhauer ventures two important analogies to get across the idea that a single event may simultaneously belong to two different series, the objective series of representations, and the subjective series of the world taken as will. 'Objective and subjective connection exist simultaneously and yet the same event, as a link in two quite different chains, exactly fits them both' (220). Schopenhauer then suggests that although every event has a distinc£ place in a causal chain, because these chains are articulated in spau. ·there are numberless such chains side by side' (215). On the one hand, mese chains are relatively independent, and each event may be said to involve a convergence

J' 148

Deleuze and

t~

Unconscious

of a multiplicity of separate chains. But on the other hand, 'many causes now operating simultaneously, each of which produces a different effect, have sprung from a common cause higher up and are, therefore, related one, another as great-grandchildren are to their great-grandfather'. Accordingly. all those causal chains, that move in the direction of time, now fonn a large. common, much interwoven net which with its whole breadth likewise moves forward in the direction of time and constitutes the coune of the world. Now if we represent these individual causal chains by meridians that would lie in the direction of time, then that which is simultaneous, and for this reason does not st2nd in direct causal connection, can be everywhere indicated by parallel lines. Now although all thins situated under the same parallel circle do not directly depend on one another, they nevertheless stand indirecdy in some connection, though remote, by virtue of the interlacing of the whole net or of the totality of all causes and effects that roll along in the direction of time. Their present co-existence is therefore necessary; and on this rests the accidental coincidence of all the conditions of an event that is necessary in a higher sense, the happening of that which fate has willed. (Ibid.: 215) Thus 'nothing is absolutely accidental' (216), for there are acausal correspon· dences between series that are grounded in a higher unity. The telling of fonunes by cards or the reading of coffee grounds all arise from the conviction that 'it is possible to know from what is present and clearly before [our] eyes that which is hidden by space and time and thUll is remote or in the future' (216). Schopenhauer also uses the analogy of the dream to further his point. He distinguishes between two types of 'obscene dream', one of which is accompanied by a successful nocrornal emission, while in the other, there seem to be no end of obstacles put in the way of reaching the same attractive women as feature in the first type of dream. As in each case, though, it is our subjective will which is responsible for the dream, the internal obstacles that appear (or not) are products of oW" own fatal character. :JUllt as everyone is the secret theatrical manager of his dreams, so too by analogy that fate that controls the actual course of our lives ultimately comes in some way from the will (218). It is exacdy the same in 'the great dream of life'. IT space, time and causality are ideal structuring forms, and the matter of our sensations depends on our sense organs. then our experience is not much different in nature from a dream. There is only one subject of the dream, and that is 'the will-to-live'. There is only one difference between life and a dream. 'In the great dream of life', the others one interacts and consorts with are also dreaming subjects, inhabiting their own dream. It is at this point that Schopenhauec introduces the implicidy Leibnizian framework of pre-established harmony (it is this that presumably inspired Jung to discuss Leibniz in 'Synchronicity'). 'A mutual relation occurs since not

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IS

.eibnizian , inspired since nOl

149

only does the one figure in the dream of the other exactly as is neceM3rf, but abo that other figures in his dream. Thus by virtue of a real harmlmiil pme.stah1ikJ everyone dreams only what is appropriate to him' (219). Sexual intercourse is thus not fundamentally different from a nocturnal emission. The other, the 'object' is not, however. a complete figment of the dreamer's imagination - but nor is it an autonomous, mutually recognized other either. It is more like an incubus or succubus. If this phantom has some othernets that seelTlll to transcend the dream, that is not beca.use they are a 'real' person, hut because we do not know what this other might iuelfbe dreaming. What I desire from the incubus or succubU!l of my dream must, however, correspond in reverse to what they d.esire from the image that I project into their dream. Rut the projection in each case is unknowing and unwilled, so that there is never any mutual recognition, as the two perspectives remain pennanently mutually excluded from each other, in a perpetual asymmetry. Although the subject of the drama is always the will-r.o-live, &:hopenhauer abo wanlS to say that each individual will has different powe~. Thus each individual will enters a drama., and plays a particular role, which will only become clear to them at the point of death. ~ they pass through repetitions of their role, or different performances of the same role, they at last see the pre-detennined nature of the great dream.

AIl the events in a man's life are connected in two fundamentally different ways; first, in the objective, causal connection of the course of nature; secondly, in a subjective connection that exislS only in relation to the individual who experiences them ... Now those two kinds of connection exist simultaneoWlly and yet the same event, as a link in two quite different chains, exactly filS them both, in consequence whereof one man's fate is always in keeping with another's, and everyone is the hero of his own drama, but at the same time figures also in that of another. All thu is of course something that surpasses OUl' powers of comprehension, and can be conceived as possible only by virtue of the most marveUoWl preestablished harmony. (220, also cited in CW 8: 428) Thus the subjective and objective series are related by an event, an 'object = x' that appears differently in eam series. A person can cause an event that has an impact on another's life, but that other will interpret the meaning of the event in an entirely different way, suitable to his or her own purpose&. The event or object that circulates in the two series guarantees a peculiar harmony between them, but each series remains different in kind. The pattern of fate only becomes runy visible at the hour of death. &:hopenhauer writes that we are 'forcibly driven to tum away from life to arrive at a regeneration by a Caesarian operation, flO to speak' (22~). ·At the hour of death, all the mysterious forces (although really rooted in ourselves) which determine man's eternal fate, crowd together and come into action.' AIl the repetitiol11l and fatal correspondences which have strue1J.J.red one's life are now

150

Deleuzt and the UnwnscUrw

played before the dying individual, as they realize exacdy who they will always have been. Schopenhauer describes the hour of death as a day ofjudgement. but also as a moment of 'crisis', and also, intriguingly, of 'palingenesis' (22~), or rebirth. For Schopenhauer, as for Kierkegaard and Deleuze, rebirth involves a refolding of t£mporal experience; the difference is that. as Sc:hopenhauer is a. strict Kantian about time, treating it as purely ideal, the reorientation of our t£mporal experience in rebirth is ultimately an exit from worldly time. From a transcendental perspective, 'past and future contain mere concepts and phant:wns' (Schopenhauer 1818: 279). If there is any progress in life, it is as the progressive revelation of one's et£mal, intelligible character. Hence at the hour of death, to realize who one will have hem is really to realise who one always already was. At that point, the flow of time can fall away as an illusion, and one can finally identify with what one has always already been. But this is where the palingenesis becomes possible, as the closure of the hour of death brings with it the possibility of an exit from phenomenal time. The dying person is finally free to perceive that 'the present is the essential form of the phenomenon of the will ... That which, empirically apprehended, is the most fleeting of all, manifests itself to the metaphysical glance that sees beyond the forms of empirical perc.eption as that which alone endures, as the nunc Jtans of the scholastics' (ibid.). If will is noumenal reality, and time, space and causality are jwt the ideal forms of representation, then the will is strictly speaking timeless; but because the will is Act, it can also be conceived more concrct£ly as an et£mal Now, nunc sUlm. For Sc:hopenhauer, there is no form of mediation between the eternity of will and the temporality of the'phenomenal world; hence the apprehension of the eternity of the will is only fully realised a.t the hour of death. To 'return' to the phenomenal world would be in any case simply to lapse back into phenomenal time.l~ Jung Criticil.eS Sc:hopenhauer on one point. 'The idea that the simultaneous points in the causal chains, or meridians, represent meaningful coincidences would only hold water if the first cause really were a unity. But it were a multiplicity, which is just as likely, then Schopenhauer's whole explanation collapses' (CW 8: 428). This is not true, though, as Deleuze tries to show.Jung's own exposition of Leibniz (CW 8: 499-506) fails to take advantage of his philosophical resources. There is a. sense in which the world can be composed of a multiplicity of series and still be a sit£ for synchronicity.

Synchronicity, Immanence and Possible Worlds Towards the end of spinozo. and the Problem of Imm4fUmCt (1968), Deleuze says 50mething that, within the confines of a book about Spinoza, appears as quite myst£riow. He is returning to the issue of psychophysical parallelism in Spinoza. As we know, Spinoza has a peculiar stance on the issue of pa.ra.Ilelism as, on the one hand, he holds Thought and Exten&ion to be attribut£s of substance which have a strict parallel and corresponding relation to each other. but on the other hand, he says that there are an 'infinite' amount of attributes.

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ultaneous ncidences -e a multi~ collapses' own expo-losophical multiplic-

Is :leuze says Irs as quite 1l1elism in parallelism lWS of sub~h other, : attributes.

151

It is true that in SpinOla, infiniry simply means 'non-limiration', so by absolute infinity, SpinOla pemaps only means 'the set ofwhkhever unlimited attributes there are'; in that case, there may in fact only be two afwr all. Nevertheless. there ill something mind-boggling in this parallelism, as formally it suggests that there are a plurality of attributes, all without direct causal relation ro each other (which would imply limiration; d. EIP6), but all expressing the same substance. In Spinuz.a and the Problnn of Expression, Deleuze shows that he is interested in precisely this possibility when he suggests that Spinoza's notion of parallelism opens up 'the rich and deep world of nmu:o.usal ~&S' (SPE 326). Compare the followmg passage with those we have seen from Schopenhauer and Jung: One feels that the soul and body have at once a sort of identity that removes the need for any real causality between them. a heterogeneity, a heteronomy, mat renders it impossible. The identity or quasi-identity is an 'invariance', and the heteronomy is that between two varying series, one of which is corporeal, the other spiritual.. Now real causality enters intD each of these series on their own account; but the relation between the two series. and their relation tD what is invariant betWeen them, depends on noncausaJ correspondence. Ifwe then ask what concept can account for such a correspondence, that of expression appears to do so. For while the concept of expression adequately applies tD reat causality, in the sense that an effect expresses its cause, and knowledge of the effect expresses knowledge of its cause, the concept nonetheless goes further than causality. since it brings a correspondence and a resonance into series that are altogether foreign to one another. (SPE 327)

The seventeenth-cenmry rationalist project of constructing a philosophy of .immanence' was deeply implicated in a specific tradition of pantheism, and had its own specific 'danger' in me latter idea. ·It claims to penetrate into the deepest things [Ie plus profourulj, me 'arcana'. to use a word of which Leibniz was fond. It at once gives back to Nature its own specific depm [11 redon1I4 a Itl nature une ipaWeuT qui lui tst proper] and renders man capable of penetrating into this depth. It makes man commensurate with God. and pUt!l him in possession of a new logic: makes him a spiritual automatDn equal to a combinatorial world' (SPE 322). Deleuze's ensuing argumentation recal.l5 Schopenhauer's two models of parallelism. the dream and the globe. We saw above how Schopenhauer first suggests a parallelism of multiple independent series, and then goes on to reslrict himself to a parallelism of su~jective will and representation. In Deleuze, the order is reversed. He starts wim a discussion of psychophysical parallelism (Thought and Extension). and then moves to a generalized picnu-e of an infinity of attributes each in a relation of npetition tD each other. FoUowing Jung, it is no longer a globe or a collective totality that is being envisaged, but a plurality of independent series, each resonating with each other, but retaining their individual srates of development.

152

D6lJJuu and the Umonscious

Moreover. at this point in S/Ji'1£f1l.lJ, and the Problem of ~ it is also particularly apparent that Leibnizianism is playing an unusuaJIy important role in Deleuze's interpretation of Spinoza. After all. the 'problem of ex.pression' is a Leibnizian problem rather than a Spinozist one; the term hardly appears in Spinoza. In an important letter to Martin Joughin, the English translator of Spinoztl and tAt Problntt of~ Deleuze writes: the hope of making substance turn on finite modes, or at least of seeing in substance a plane of immanence in which finite modes operate. already appears in this book. What I needed was both (1) the expressive character of particular individuals. and (2) an immanence of being. Leibniz, in a way, goes further than SpinOla on the first poinL But on the second. SpinOla stands alone. One finds it only in him. This is why I consider myself a Spinozist. rather than a Leibnizian. although lowe a lot to Leibnii. (SPE 11) What Deleuze seems to effect in the last chapter of spi'1£f1l.lJ, and the Problem ofb:ftre.ssirm and in more detail in the philosophy of difference expounded in Dilfmnt:e and Repstition is a Spinozist conversion of Leibnizianism. an immanent Leibni.zianism.

Leibnizianism after the Speculative Death of God Leibniz imagines that before the dawn of the world God faces an eternal set of logically possible series, from which he must select a subset of series that are not only possible (non-self-contradictory) but ~ CompolSibility is weaker than logical possibility; something is compossible only with something else, and is therefore contingent upon whim other realities might exist. To exist. therefore, something must not only be possible (non-self-conrradietory), but compossible. To explain why something exists requires a counterfactual account of how other realities do not exist, be£awe they are not compossible with each other; that is, that they IJ7lIIprevented from existing, by some other thing(s). But the question demands to be pushed further back, as Leibniz has not only to account for why a world might exist. but why this one does. Why is this set of compossibilities actuali:zed? Leibniz cbims that the criterion for this selection is the 'best' of all possible worlds. When he analyses what 'the best' or 'most perfect' might mean, he states that it is 'that combination of things ... by which the greatest possible number of things exists' (RusseU 1900: 295; cf. Leibniz 1697: 151). If A has the potential to be compatible or combinable with more things than B, then A will exist. It follows that the sufficient reason of an eKistent reality lies in the 'proportion' or 'degree' of potential complexity producible bY iL This calculus of compossibility would be the true ratio of the world. The best of all possible worlds can be determined ideally through a reciprocal and complete determination between possible series, according to a differential calculus based on their potential contributions to a world with the maximum complexity and conti-

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153

nuity. It is the fonnulation of thi.s geometrically based combinatory, this calculus of compossibilities, that leads Deleuze to say that Leibtili 'discovers a play in the creation of the world' (DR 51). In Leibniz, this play in creation is of course subordinated to a theological hypothesis. The infinite array of possibles must all eternally subsist in the mind of a God who reflects upon them, 'selects' the best, and then lets them pass into space and time. Being eternal, God's mind can weigh all poSllible outcomes, and thus judge the potential complexity of each possible series in conjunction with any of the others. God is not.. then, responsible, for instance, for the sinning of Adam; God is at most responsible for selecting for existence the world in which Adam sins, according to the criterion of the best.. This world did not 1u.we to happen. In other po!l5ible worlds, Adam does not sin. But is this theological fonnulation the only way Leibnu's theory can be conceived? Deleuze sees resources in Leibnu's theory for a reformulation of the 'realm ofIdeas discovered by Kant. As we have seen, Ideas in Deleuze's sense involve the identification of problems for cognition. But Leibniz's theory, because it recognizes a 'play in creation', can us how these problems can be determined. Leibnu shows us from the outset that it is the wrong way around to seek an original monadic essence of Adam, dictating either that he must sin or that he must resist temptation. Rather, he says, there are 'several Adams' that are Logically possible.1 4 More profoundly, Leibniz suggests that in the fint place one must conceive of a 'vague Adam' in which no decision is yet made about what Adam will actually be and do. Thus we can say that there is an Idea of Adam, a problem of Adam. But what are in basic elements? Should we simply say that the vague Idea ofAdam is made up of poSllible series, which can be treated as individuals or monads? No, there is a more basic level. Vague Adam is rather composed of a number of ~ - to be the first man, to live in paradise. to give birth to a woman from himself, to sin, to resist temptation (F 59-61). Prior to the determination of compossibility according to the principle of the best, it is not so much that Leibniz merely presupposes a distribution of logically possible series; rather he must be understood, according to Deleuze, as presupposing fint of all a distribution of lhe 'pre-individual singularities' which make up the deciding points of difference between those series (DR 245-6, 279-80).lt is these that make up the Idea and that indeed make it a ~ for a consteUation of singularities may branch off into a number of possible di~t, i~ible series. In this case, whether the Adam that is selected for existence actualizes either the fourth (sin) or fifth singularity (resistance to temptation) will be of immense importance for the world in which he is selected. 1\ro different 'worlds', two divergent series, issue from the result of that ~unction. In Leibniz's own scheme, God calculates that the world ofthe sinning Adam must be chosen and Adam's nocturnal twin, 'good Adam', must be banished for ever. However, the model of the 'vague Adam' indicates the perfect conceivability or rational transparency of the divergent or incompossible series that branch off ideally in forking paths from each ideal conjunction of

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154

Delew.e and tJw UnctmScwus

singularities. ·With Leibniz', suggests Deleuze. ·it seems to us that in the first pltu:ethere is a calculus of infinite series ruled by convergences and divergences' (F 61). Such an ideal calculus seems quite autonomous from lhe doctrine of lhe best, as well as from the theological hypothesis of the selecting God. For Leibniz, we live in the best of all possible worlds, and everything that happens in it is selected for its cumpossibility with everything else. Deleuze's final gambit is that the death of God does not destroy Leibniz's metaphysics, but liberates all its possibilities. Deleuze thus attempts to wrest the 'play in the creation of the world' from the hypothesis of divine selection. Leibnizianism after the death of God - and after the fracture of the 'I' - implies tIu afftrmatUm of int:ompossible lJJO't"ItU. The problems which guide our cognition and affection are problems 'in themselves'. In fact it is as if Leibniz's system not only survives, but even only comes to bloom, after the death of God. For if Leibniz's principle of the best is taken instead as a possible solution (albeit a highly generalized and abstract one) nested within a primary matrix of Ideas, taken now more stricdy in the Kantian sense as focal. horizons for thought, then we are able to step out of metaphysics and into transcendental philosophy. Without reliance on a pre-established, designed harmony between thought and world, the world is precisely restored to us as a matrix ofproblems, for which the solutions have not been prepared in advance, but which orient or provide a horiwn for the ultimate purposes of our thinking. Problems, vague Ideas, are thus affirmed as the true o~ects of reason. The 'vague Adam, a vagabond, a nomad, an Adam -= x' can indeed be understood as 'common to several worlds' (LS 114) but it attains a powerful determinacy of its own at the moment that it is seen as a fmiblem that framM multiple solutions, and serves as a witness to an aboriginal 'play in the creation of the world' (DR 51) - that is, of this world taken as the body of the absolute, hierarchically organized in levels of interiorization. For Deleuze, individuation is first of all a biological process, and then a psychic one (DR 256). In psychic life, individuation occurs when the imagination, faced with problematic Ideas, attempts to invoke the power of intuition. For Jung, dreaming, love, ·active imagination', and esoteric experiences are the media and tools of the individuating person (the individw:l/lIl, we could call them). For Deleuze it is art, love. masochism, intoxication, esoteric experience and revolutionary consciousness.

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Synchronicity and Repetition in Jung and Freud Is synchroniCity narcissism? Or is narcissism synchronicity? The first half of Freud's essay on 'The Uncanny' is devoted to a reductive analysis of E. T. A. Hoffman's story about the Sandman to a fantasy about infantile castration anxiety. Rut after complf'ting this analysis. Freud goes on to produce some fascinating reflections on fantasies of living doUs and doubles, and on experiences of fateful coincidences and repetitions. He alights upon the theme of doubling and repetition as fundamental to experiences of the uncanny. We

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should briefly recount hill line of thought here. as he moves from a reductive artalysis of the double in terms of narcissism, to a more ambivalent analysis of repetition, which finally seems to lead him (0 JlO6it compulsive repetition as a primordial force in the psyche, thus opening the way to the invention of the death drive. Freud approvingly cites Otto Rank's hypothesis that 'the 'double' was originally an insurance against the destruction of the ego ... This invention of doubling [is1 a preservation against extinction' (SE 17: 235). Ideas of the double 'have sprung from the soil of unbounded self-love, from the primary narcissism which dominates the mind of the child and of primitive man'. Freud elaborates then on Rank's theory of the narcissistic component of the double. The double proceeds to become an object of fear, because of the sur· mOWlting of the stage of narcissism, artd the construction of the ego. Thus insofar as the rerum to narcissism is repressed, the double becomes an ohject of fear, but insofar as a return to narcissism promises the attraction of a return LO the omnipotence of moughts and the surety of an immortal soul. the double is an object of attraction. Hence the feeling of the Wlcanny expr~ ambivalence about a regression to primary narcissism. 'The quality of uncanniness can only come from the fact of the "double" being a creation dating bad to a very early mental stage, long since surmounted - a stage, incidentaUy. at which it wore a more friendly aspect. The "double" has become a thing of terror,just as, after the coUapse of their religion, the gods turned into demons' (ibid.: 236). However, narcissism is invoked not just to explain the double as a rudimentary form of self-preservation through multiplication. For Freud, there are two other aspects of narcissism that are relev.mt to experiences of me Wlcanny. First, any Wlcanny experience involves a blurring of the usual demarcation between reality and imagination. This alteration recalls two other fea.tn.l"es of Freud's account of primary narcissism, which in fAct turn out to be inconsistent. On the one hand, there is the omnipotence of thoughts. In me stage of narcissism, me child has the ability to 'satisfy their wishes in a hallucinatory martner' (SE 13: 83-4). But on the omer hand, the coUapse of the distinction between ego and external world surely must result in a certain passivity, insofar as there is no formed ego to be omnipotent in the first place. Freud says that he is pursuing the idea that uncanny experiences involve La harking-back to particular phases in the evolution of the self-regarding feeling, a regression to a time when the ego had not yet marked itself off sharply from the external world artd from other people' (SE 17: 236). But the idea of a collapse in distinction between ego and external world is incompatible with the idea of omnipotence of thoughts. IS However. as if unsatisfied by this regressive account ~f the uncanny, Freud goes on to probe deeper into the origins of the act of doubling, through exploring other instances of the uncanny. In certain experiences of apparent coincidence, me presence of a 'factor of involuntary repetition ... forces upon us the idea of something fateful and inescapable' (SE 17: 237). which can

156 neither be reduced to a regression to a state of narci!l8ism, nor to facton of chance. Freud recalls an occasion he went walking in a provincial tDwn in Italy. and found himselfin its red-light district. He hastened to leave the street at the next turning, and wandered some more, only to find himself led involuntarily back to the same street, where his return was now attracting unwanted attention. He hurried away again. only to arrive by another detour at the same place again. A feeling of the uncanny overtook him at this moment. An uncanny impression can abo arise with numerical coincidences. Implicitly rec:a1Iing the supentitions about the number 61 he had shared with Jung after the latter's emba.rra8sing 'spookery' with Freud's furniture, Freud states that if we come across the number 62 a number of times in one day - 'if two such events, each in itself indifferent, happen dose together, or if we come across the number 62 several times in a single day' (ibid.), we do feel this to he uncanny. He remarks that what is common to such experiences of the uncanny is an 'unintended recurrence of [aj situation' resulting in a 'sense of helplessness experienced in some dream-states' (ibid.). The 'involuntary repetition' gives rise to the sense that we are helplellSly caught in a fateful and inescapable pattern of events, beyond our control. Freud then states that he is reluctant to trace the uncanny effect ofsuch occurrences back to infantile psychology, and says that he must refer the reader to his new work Be,ond the PlMJsuRi Pri'TKifJ/e, which he has just completed. For it is p05Sible to recognise the dominance in the unconscious mind of a 'compulsion to repeat' proceeding from the drive impulses and probably inherent in the very nature of the drives - a compulsion powerful enough to overrule the pleasure principle, lending to certain aspects of the mind their daemonic character; and still very clearly expressed in the impulse8 of small children ... All these considerations prepare us for the discovery that whatever reminds WI of this inner 'compulsion to repeat' is perceived as uncanny. (Ibid.: 2M) Although he admilS that the notion of repetition is explored 'in a different connection' in BeJmul the Plsasun Principk. it is striking that the type of 'unintended recurrence of the same thing' (ibid.: 246) discussed in 'The Uncanny' - the experience of flue - is not really covered in the later work. The discussion in 'The Uncanny' appears to he converging on the thought that the experience of 'involuntary repetition' is not necessarily to be seen as a trigger for a regression to a particular state, but as the bUI'llting-through of a compulsion to repeat that is autonomous of the pleasure principle. The 'sense ofhelplcssness' or pauivity that results from the 'unintended recurrence of the same thing' is a result of the yielding to this power of repetition, which is 'probably inherent in the very nature of the drives'. There is also the suggestion in this passage that 'the compulsion to repeat' nms through the whole 'evolution of self-regarding', so that Freud would be looking towards a principle of autonomous doubling, which would connect up with his previous remarks about psychic doubling.

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157

It is uue that in .se,ood tlu! Pleasure ~ Freud does write of his imprellsion that those subject to repetition compulsion are 'pursued by a malignant fare or possell8ed by some daemonic power' (Sf. 18: 22).ln this passage, he diacusses repetition in terms of fate. 'We have come acrou people all of whose hwnan relationships have the same outcome ... The man whose friendships all end in betrayal by his friend ... the lover each ofwhose love affairs with a woman passes through the same phases and reaches the same conclusion' (ibid.: 21}.lfwe take into accOWlt ca8es1ike these, says Freud. then 'we shall find courage to assume that there really does exist in the mind a compulsion to repeat which overrides the pleasure principle'. However, Freud goes on to say that dafJite the impression of daemonic fate that accompanies instances of repetition, 'psychoanalysis has always taken the view that their fate is for the most part arranged by themselves and detennined by early infantile influences' (ibid.). Moreover, as Deleuze complains, the death drive is reduced to the model of a return to inanimate matter. Finally. in 'The Uncanny' itself Freud withdraws from the path opened up by his suggestions about repetition and retreats to his position that 'an uncanny experience occu.rs either when infantile complexes which have been repreued are once more revived by some impression, or when primitive beliefs which have been sunnounted seem once more to be confirmed' (SE 17: 249). [t was recalled earlier that Freud begins his discussion of the uncanny with a quotation from Schelling's Philosoph, ofM,tIwltJgj, which he says throws new light on the concept of the uncanny, 'for which we were certainly not prepared'. Schelling's passage says that' UnMimlieh is the name for everything that ought to have remained ... secret and hidden but has come to light' (Schelling 1857: 649). HFreud had followed up this reference. he might well have found more than he was prepared to see. The context for Schelling's passage lies in a discussion of bow Homeric poetry had first emerged because Gt-eek culture had managed to transcend the hitheno dominant culture of religious mysteries through interiorizitzgthem: 'The Homeric Age was first able to conceive of that purely poetic narrative of the gods after the actually religious principle had been hidden in the interior and thus allowed the spirit to turn freely toward the outside' (ibid., cited in Beach 1994: 228). But what was at the core of the mysteries themselves according to Schelling? Nothing other than a dramati2ation of a spiritual rebirth, whereby the aspirant retrneed or recapitulated the developmental process of the history of mythical consciousness itself. culminating in a 'regenerative catharsis' (ibid.: 2:\9). What was internalized in Homeric poetry was already itself a recapitulative intemalization. Moreover, Schelling strelllled the paradoxical temporal logic involved in this recapitulation. The process of repetition culminates in the realization that what has been repeated only finally exiSts for itselfin the interna.lization of the repetition. The mythical drama of rebirth is the unfolding and then final destruction of rebirth tIS a myth, which gives rise to a properly interior rebirth through the internalization of the whole process itself. The Homeric fate that is played out in sunlight and open sky in the OdySSllJ, then,

158

Deleuze and the UnamseWus

i& itself an inverted repetition of a drama of rebirth played out in the darkness of the mysteries, But this drama itself, taking place in the entrails of the past. was already a circle of self·interiorizing repetition. 'Greece has a Homer pre-dsely because it has Mysteries, i.e., because it has succeeded in completely conquering the principle of the past, which in the Oriental systems was still dominant and on the surface. It has succeeded in putting tha.t principle back into the interior, i.e.• into secrecy. into the Mystery (out of which, after all, it had emerged in the first place)' (Schelling. ibid.). The 'principle of the past'. of the already-there, the fated deja vu, is interiorized, and revealed as having its fate only in repetition, Ultimately. it is fated only to be repeated. So the kernel of what 'should have remained hidden' i& not simply narcissism, an abstract concept which falls apart once it Is made concrete, but the principle of repetition itself. We have seen thaL a Heimljehkeit is also generated by Jung's notion of synchronicity. and, as with the Freudian uncanny, it also involves the revelation of a Geh.eimnis. something previousJy hidden from view. Although it can involve a de facw regression to narcissism, it also poinu towards a species of transcendental immortality, deju1'ecven ifaborted. The pathology of the psychotic broadcasts the message of the eternal return - that death is not the problem, but the immortality of our actions - in magnified form. The psychotic is immohilized by their encounter with finitude, and, by sparializing temporality, they find themselves thrown into a drama which appears to have already been written. and in which they are a pawn. Deleuze and Jung suggest thai. there is a psychotic moment in the culmination of every process of individuation. Or more precisely, the neurotic only proceeds along the path of individuation by encountering the same processes that engulf the psychotic. The theatre of fAte adjoins the 'theatre ofterror' (DR 18) of schizophrenia, in which the unconscious is poised to appear 'in person'. unleashing distortions of spatiotemporal reality.

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Chapter 6

The Occult Unconscious: Sympathy and the Sorcerer

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One of the most powerful passages in Deleuze's oeuvre comes at the end of Bergsimism, when he sets forth his version of the Bergsonian vision of the place of the human being in the universe:

It could be said that in man, and only in man, the actual becomes adequate ro the vinual. It could be said that man is capable of rediscovering all the leveb, all the degrees of expansion {detente] and contraction that coexist in the virtual Whole. As if he were capable of all the frenzies and brought about in himself successively everything that, elsewhere, can only be embodied in different species. Even in his dreams he rediscovers or prepares matter. And durations that are inferior to him are still internal to him. Man therefore creates a differentiation that is valid for the Whole, and he alone traces out an open direction that is able to express a whole that is itself open. Whereas the other directions are dosed and go round in circles ... man is capable of scrambling the planes, of going beyond his own plane as his own condition, in order finally to express naturing Nature. (B I06) I Deleuze finnly situates Bergson in the tradition of Schelling and Hegel. for whom the human being must ultimately be Wlderstood as the ctmting tv CMlsciott.mess of the Wliverse itself. Of course, this model is much older than Gennan Idealism, as it is the central schema of the Hermetic philosophies of the Renaissance and theosophy. In his article on Malfatti and in his references to Wrorudd's esoteric we of the calculus, Deleuze relates himself more or less explicitly to this tradition, but in his work on Bergson, Deleuze tends to restrict himself to relating Bergson to Schelling and German Idealism (Ol 36, 50; Deleuze 1960). Bergson's cosmic tableau of the hierarchy of beings in the Wliverse emerges most clearly in his last work, The Two SoufUS ofMorality and Religion. In CrMtive Evolution, he had for the most part rested content with detailing the divergent development of the ilan viIol into two Orders of life. The hymenoptera were in effect equal to human beings, insofar as both represented the furthest point of development of the tendencies of instinct and intelligence. The Two ~ may be read as Bergson's belated investigation into the specific development· of the human order of life. There is a dear asymmetry between the insect and human realms, if one takell seriously the notion that 'life' is defined by its

160

Ikleuu and the Unconscious

creativity and open-endedne!lS. For in that case. the instinctual mode of life may be taken as a I.o.pu in evolution. Insects have 'lapsed into the somnambulism of instinct' (Bergson 19~2: 209), whereas conscious intelligence, in breaking away from instinct, opens up the possibility of unforeseen developments through cultural development. If 'the creative effort progressed mccessfully only along the line of evolution which ended in man', then the human being in effect gained access to a privileged possibility: to transform its consciousness in such a way that it becomes the form in which the 'ilan vital gains self-consciousness' (8 lU). This is not to say that human beings are the one and only biological form which can attain this privilege. Bergson quite carefully says that through 'the act of placing in matter a freely creative energy, it is man, or some other being oflike significance - we do not say of like form -which is the purpose oCthe entire process ofevolution' (Bergson 1932: 211). To criticize Bergson and Deleuze for anthropomorphism (or worse, of 'humanism', an almost completely meaningless term) is to miss the poinLjean Hyppolite (following Hegel) says that 'man' merely expresses the sense of being, and that (following Heidegger) man is therefore the 'place of being', rather than a biological genus ora self-conscious subject (Hyppolite 1955: 20). For Deleuze, the human being is simply the site of 'the interiorlsation of ditference'. In the important final pages of Dif/I!Ir!nU and &peti.Jitm (before the Conclusion), Deleuze COIUtruetll a hierarchy of the domains of actualization. derived in large part from the work of the philosopher Gilbert Simondon. There are three domains: physical, biological and psychic systems, In fact, it is only in psychic systems that we effectively meet with the noumenal nature of intensity, through the interiorization of difference. 'To the extent that the individuating helOTS form a kind of noumenon of the phenomenon, we claim that the noumenon tends to appear as such in complex systems' (DR 256; d. DR 261). In physical systems, the process of individualization 'happens all at once, and affects only the boundaries' (DR 255). 'The pbysical individual crea.tes and prolongs itself to the limit of the body - for example. crystal' (01 88). In tum, 'a biologittl system receives successive waves of singularities and involves its whole internal milieu in the operations which lake place at the outer limits' (DR 255); these 'successive waves' are progre!lSive and durational. But, Deleuze continues, 'What is the formula for this 'evolution'? The more complex a system, the more the values peculiar to implii:;atiqn appear within it' (DR 255). This implication, involution or interiorization of difference is accomplished only in 'paychic systems'. which attain a completely virtual body through the preservation of the past in the synthesis of memory. 'Complex systems increasingly tend to interiorise their constitutive differences .. The more the difference on which the system depends is interiorised in the phenomenon, the more repetition finds itself interior, the less it depends upon external conditions which are mpposed to ensure the reproduction of the "samen differences' (DR 256). Deleuze thus finds a new way to defend the Hermetic idea that the microcosm contains the macrocosm. The passage from .Berg.wnismexalting the powers ofhumanity is thrilling, but

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161

it also becomes more enigmatic the closer one examines it. We might ask how and why the human being (or the being that occupies its place) brings about in itself 'everything that, ellewhere. can only be embodied in different species'? IT the power of humanity arises through its intelligence, then what has this re-embodiment. of di£ferent species got to do with intelligence? Indeed, Deleuze suggesUi that it is in dreams, rather than intelligence, that the human being 'rediscovers or prepares matter', And what are these 'frenzies' ofwhich the human being is said to be capable? Deleuz.e's eulogy to humanity in fact seems to have nothing to do with more traditional accountJI of the privilege of humanity over the rest of nature. Where are reason and intelligence here? In the closing pages of Bergsonism, where this passage resides, Deleuz.e is in effect teasing out the logic of Bergson's theory of the distinction between humans and animals. It turns out that it is not intelligence, after aD, which marks out the distinctiveness of human beings, bm rather the possibility of a mntegration of instinct and intelligence. We should now follow how Deleuze draws cenain consequences from Bergson's philosophy of humanity which are not even explicitly affirmed by Bergson himself.

Sorcery and the Difference between Human and Animal To say that the human being brings about 'everything that, ehewhere, can only be embodied in different species' can only refer, once again, to instinct, as that ill what is embodied, in durational cycles, in the di£ferent spedes. Now, we have seen that Bergson believes that intelligence is the dominant tendency in human beings, which leads them away from instinctual activity. In human society, however, there is an •equivalent of instinct' in the. 'f3bulating function', a notion, as we saw, that Bergson borrowed from Janet. The fabuIating or story-telling function necessarily fills the gaps opened up by intelligence, and provides fictions to fill the question of the ends of intelligent actions. Bergson's account of filbulation is pre-dated by Janet's theory of fabulation in his Evolution of Memqry. For Janet, the fabulating function is a devel· opment of the power to narrate or give accounts of what is presently absent:. In the first myths and epics, the power of memory is used fo'rfabulation, giving rise to 3. specific enjoyment, which, if unchecked, can be transfonned into delirium, and the myth being taken as founding (for a society or individual). For Bergson, however, the notion of fabulation is connected with a residue of instinct within human life. At every point where intelligence comes up against its own limitJI, there arises a 'compensation' on the part of instinct (8 108). This notion of compensation is clearly espoused by Bergson in The Two Sourus, but is also reminiscent of the Jungian version of the opposition between instinct (or archetype) and intelligence. But it has a more specific function in Bergson's thought, Deleuze gives two examples of how a 'virtual instinct' can arise and enter the problematic gaps of the intelligence: social obligation and religion:

162

Deleuze and the Unum.scWus

Take, for example, obligation; It has no rational ground. Each particular obligation is conventional and can border on the absurd; the only thing that is grounded is the obligation to have obligations ... and it is not grounded in reason, but in a requirement of narore, in a kind of 'virtual instinct', that is, on a counterpart that nature produces in the reasonable being in order to compensate for the partiality of his intelligence. (8 108) In this case, it is no longer a particular instincroal exigency which guides the obligation, but rather the instinctual need to have obligations in general. In other words, it is an 'instinct that has become disinterested, self-conscious. capable of reflecting upon its object' (Bergson 1907: 176); only the Jqrm of instinct remains. A virtual instinct is a 'counterpart that nature produces in the reasonable being in order to compensate for the partialitv of his intelligence' (B 108). Deleuze does not say any more about obligation, but thar there is more to be said about it emerges when we look at the second example, religion, which reveals the foundation of obligation. Vinual instinct is in fact !:he 'creator of gods, inventor of religions, that is of fictitious representations .•. As in !:he case of obligation. each god is contingent. but wbat is natural, necessary and grounded is hauing gods; it is the pantheon of gods' (8 108). Again, Deleuze's remarks are brief, but we can connect up bere withJanet's argument about the porential delirium of the fabula.ting function, which exploits the impossibility of verifying certain narratives of past events. On the Bergsonian model, memory is preserved as a whole and is not in itslIlfordered chronologically. Janet suggests that fabulation can run riot through the past. scrambling chronology. and returning with a completely mythicized past. What would plug this delirium, on Bergson's account? In the end. it must be reflecred instinct. Epic and myth are closely linked with gmealogUal claims in ancient history. The delirium of myth is controlled by stabilizing it 1:.0 serve genealogy as a reflected biological form of the vinua1: lineages, races, blood. The form of instinct would thus allow the mythical narrative 1:.0 assume a 'biological' form, albeit a reflected one. Instinctual consciousness is therefore still possible at a collective level. just as the wasp has a peculiar kind of 'speciesconsciousness', the consciousness of the early Greek would be structured by the dramas of Olympus as racial myths. Social obligation is referred back to mythical fabulation. which forms the foundation of human society through the reactivation of instinct. Deleuze's argument does not stop there, however, a1!:hough it could have done so. In a move that proves the decisive role of dialectical thinking in his thoughl, Deleuze claims !:hat !:he preservation of 'virtual instinct' in this manner does not yet demonstrate any fundamental difference in kind between human beings and animals. For 'the societies !:hat he forms are no less dosed than animal species; they form part of a plane of nature, as much as animal species and societies; and man goes round in circles in his societyjust as much as the species do in theirs or ants in their domain'. The difference between ants and men is nOl so great, especially if we are prepared to assume some lIOn of

TJu Occtdl. Unconscious: Sympathy and the Sorcerer uticular ing'~at oun4ed .ct" that .norder

ides the leral. In lnscious. ~ furm of es i1l.the Uigence' there is ~ K.a1ll pIe, is in fact :nrations natural, (B 108). hJanet'8 :1. which •. On the (ordered the past, red past. must be claims in to serve :8. blood. ne a 'bioefore still 'species:rored by

onns the Deleuze's e so. In a though.... mer does n human )sed than :al species lCh as the 1 ants and Ie sort .of

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163

consciousness in lower organisms. Although the human work.er is different from a worker ant insofar as it is blessed with intelligence, when it encounters the limits of inrelligence, it reveals itself as resting on instinct after all, If an indiVidual resists social pressure, then this is by virtue of his intelligence, while if an individual conforms to society, then he does so likewise through acquiescing in the stories and fables he is told, There is still no possibility of escaping the plane or circle of nature, and we remain caught in an endless oscillation between individual and social pressure, Deleuze is quite dear that the requisite 'third thing' is not intuition, as 'in fact., we must on the contrary carty out a genesis of intuition, that is determine the way in which inrelligence itself was converted or is converted into intuirion' (B 109-10), This is a bit of an obscure formulation, as we have seen that instinct itself must be already taken to be intuitive, so there is no ne~d for a 'genesis' of intuition in thalrespecL However, Deleu:re's claim is more specific: it is to determine how imelligma can be converted into intuition. That is, not only must instinct itself be affected by intelligence, thus becoming 'disinterested, self-conscious. capable of reflecting upon its object', but inrelligence 100 must have the possibility of being inrernally altered by instinct. This is a pure specuIative-dialecticaI formulation: not just intelligence in instinct., but instinct in intelligence. Again. as with Hegelian phenomenology, we have to scan the horizon to see if there is a suitable object to serve as locus for this dialectical identity. Deleuze says abruptly that there is only one candidate. 'Only emotitm differs in nature from both intelligence and instinct., from both intelligent individual e80ism and quasi-instinctive social pressure' (8 110). But it is not any sort of emotion which differs in nature, as Deleuze suggests. Egoistic passions and the aesthetic pleasures of fabulation both involve emotions which are 'always connecred to a representation on which it is supposed to depend' (ibid.). Nevertheless, emotion can in principle be separated from these representations. 'It precedes all representation, itself generating new ideas. It does not have, srrkcly speaking, an object, but merely an essena that spreads itself over various objects. animals, plants and the whole of nature'. This is an odd conception, but we can already see that the notion of sympath, must be lurking in the back.ground here, Emotion is being related to the capacity for sympathy; it appears as a kind of fJ/I&iversal SJmpatk" made possible by the reflection of instinct out of its panicularity, In Creative Evolution Bergson had already hinted that instinct could become 'disinterested' in human beings. Emotion then appears to be some sort of process of 'identification' with instinctual attitudes, which nevertheless does not extend to fully incarnating them. In The Two Sources, Bergson uses aesthetic 'identification' to get across what he means here. A piece of music which expresses love does not express I~e for a particular person, but a love that is 'ideal', insofar as it does not belong to the person who has it, but the person who has it participates in an essence. Music 'does not introduce these feelings in us; it introduces us into them, as passers-by forced into a street dance' (Bergson 1932: 40, cited in 8 110). 'To each

are

164

DeI.euu and the Unconscious

member of a. closed society, if he opens himself to it, it communicates a kind of reminiscence, an excitement that alloW!! him to follow' (8 111). Universal S'JmpfJt}ry is the intuitive basis which allows for the idenlification with others. Conscioume!l8 has been universalized, so that it no longer belongs to one ego, but due to the ability to adjust the 'level' of consciousness (between conoaction and relaxation) now asswnes a power of di.8sociation that allows us to enter the conscious perspectives of other beings. Furthermore, this un.iverIalization of consciousne!l8 extends all the way to the animal world, and to life iuelf. Without an object. emotion is 'an asena that spreads itself over various objec15, anim.ah, plants and the whole of natUre' (110). Deleuze often describes the peeu1iar feeling of sympathy with animals. Which child has not looked into the eyes of a dog or horse and felt overcome with a flood of melancholy? Deleuze frequently alludes to a passage from the novel ADfqn RAser by the German pre-Romantic writer Karl Philipp Moritz, who 'feels respomible not for the cal'lleS that die but before the calves that die and give him the incredible feeling of an unknown Nature - afJed (ATP 240). (Deleuze uses the term 'affect' here to denote emotion, rather than affect in the strictly Bergsonian sense.) H emotion is a 'spiritual' (or even daemonic) event rather than the firing ofneumDS, it is because it is necessar· ily referred to an unknown Nature. The emotions of love and art are not like affects that belong to 'known' or empirically sensed nature (such as the intensities attached to ordinary sensations). Love rather refen to the unknown Nature of the other (inJungian terms, the anima or animus). Fear is only ever an 'affect' in the proper sense of the word when it refers to an unknown n.ature. Love, fear and art all participate in a flow of emotion which emanates from our relation to the unknown in nature. TheJungian terms we developed in chapter 3 allow us to specify that the most profound unknown nature is unknown inner na1ll.re - the Wlconscious, the mind beyond ego. Unknown nature is only powerful to us when it refers to an unknown inner nature: 'nature from within'. Affect or emotion is therefore the intensive movement of this unknown nature, and is 'the unconscious' in its pure, intensive form. We know that Deleuze always begins on the principle that the highest serves as the clue to the most fundamental ('the nownenon tends to appear as such in complex sy5teD1.!l'), so it is an which reveals the e!l8ence of this feeling most clearly. Musk is the privileged example of wriversal !I}'I1lpathy. Here, universal !I}'I1lpathy is at ib most 'active'. But art and music are refined forms of universal sympathy. Everything that has been said so far leads Deleuze to suggest that it is this universal sympathy which can claim the special ontological statm of lifting us out of the closed cycles of nature. Because emotion in itself is pure intensive quantity, it is the elan vital in person (the noumenon appearing within the interior). In a sense, emotion is the 8ubstance or su~ect (in Hegelian terms) of the Absolute. The goal of the occult tradition is tD a!l8ign a mathais to the microcosmic currents of intensive quantity. allowing for a potential mastery of the domain of pure virtuality. Bergson hi:m&elf cl.aims that it is the mysticwho is the final subject of pure emotion. 'At the limit, it is the mystic who

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plays with the whole of creation, who invents an expression of it whose adequacy increases with its dynamism. Servant of an open and finite God (such are the characteristics of the ilaft vital), the mystical soul actively plays the whole of the universe, and reproduces the opening of a Whole in which there is nothing to see or contemplate' (B 112). H the passage from Bngsonism has been kept in mind, pemaps we are not so unprepared for this conclusion. In The Two Soums. Bergson identifies mysticism with 'frenzy'. However, his theory offrenzy is quite specific and needs to be briefly recounted (see Lawlor 2003: 85-111 for a general overview). For Bergson, frenzy is a fundamental possibility of human cognitive and affective life, We have seen enough of Bergson's philosophy to know that he identifies two fundamental 'tendencies' in life - duration and matter. 'In the general evolution of life, the tendencies thus created by a process of dichotomy are to be found in species different from each other', 80 that evolutionary lineages which develop intelligence do so at the expense of instinct, for instance. The kingdom of the hymenoptera is opposed to the kingdom of humanity. Nevertheless, even if one line - intelligence or instinct - wins out evolutionarily, a tension between the two tendencies still exists when it comes to 'the evolution of psychical and social life' because 'here the tendencies. born of the process of splitting, develop in the same individual ... can be developed only in lIUCcession' (Bergson 1932: 295). Human psychological development. therefore, proceeds through an alt8mation of instinct and intelligence. Whereas the development of the human infant proceeds through formations shaped by instinct, the period of early adulthood is devoted to the cultivation of intelligence, while the development of instinct (for instance. the sexual instinct), conversely, is frozen at a certain stage. Now Bergson 8uggellts that if one of these tendencies gains an unmoderated power over the other, and assumes a development autonomous of the other, then frenzy is the result. 'The mere fact of taking up all the room imparts to each of them such an impetus that it bolrs ahead as the barriers collapse one bv one; there is something frenzied about it' (296). Intelligence completely uprooted from instinct is frenzied, while instinct without any sort of power of modification through intelligence (or at least habituation) is also frenzied. There is no longer an internal barrier in the counteraction of the opposing tendency, and so a careering freef.all comes into being. This duality of tendencies appears to be permanent, and the best one can do is oscillate between them. avoiding the frenzies that come about when one becomes dominant. Mysticism is nevertheless something more than the mental disequilibrium one might expect if it dwells at the 'dream-pole' of human cognition and emotion. It is not idle dreaming, but taps into the sow-ce of life. The IlI}'lltic's visions are 'a systematic rearrangement aiming at a superior equilibrium'. It is superior, Bergson says, because there is the possibility of action, of realization. Bergson makes clear later that mysticism is a type offrenzy (298). So the conclusion is clear: if there is a correlate to the Hegelian 'substance ... IU~' in Bergson, a coming-to-consciousness where the noumenal is expressed in pure

166 Slates of interiority. then it is embodied by the mystic. Mysticism, which is identification with the Natura natltrans, points towards a superior equilibrium, and the mystic is not at alI bothered if people accuse him or her of being mad. But the very extremity of the mystic's existence forces Berg!lOn to downplay i1$ nonnativity. A society of mystics is not possible, and Bergson's di!lCU!lsion turns to a novel account of the general conditions for society. But Deleuze insists thai. it is this interval of emotion - apparently apprehel1llible in its pure fonn only in mysticism - which iuelf 'defines a variability appropriate to hwnan societies' (B Ill). Contra Freudian expectations, the Deleuzean individuant is no longer caught within the conflict betWeen instinCt and intelligence, hut has gone beyond this dualism wwards the articulation of an intensive map that maket! possible the o1UrnaJ;ion of impersonal powers of intuition in mathetical relationship with eat:h other. The v.uiability in human societies, in other words, must ultimately be traced had to the vicissitudes of deployment of this creative emotion. The condition of any hierarchically ordered society is therefore the management or distribution of frenzy. But mystical frenzy is JUSt one form offrenzy. More speeifica1Iy, society is conditioned by an oscillation between twO types of frenzy. Writing in 1932, Bergson 8uggeS1ll thai. 'comfort and luxury [have] apparently become the main preoccupation of humanity ... We have seen the rue for comfort proceeding faster and fallter ... Today it is a stampede' (298). The pendulum has swung in the opposite direction to 'the Middle Ages, [when] an ascetic ideal had predominated ... Here already you had frenzy' (ibid.). These two frenzies recall Jung's two poles of extraVersion and introversion. On the one side, the frenzied extraversion of conswner society, with solitude banished to outer darkness. This is a kind of frenzy of intelligence, in that intelligence itself becomes separated altogether from its instinctual ballast. On the other side, the frenzied inrroversion of monks and shamans, who have gone beyond all earthly need for human contact. Any society will veer towards one of the fren.ries. Bergson concludes: 'We propose to designate law of twofold.frr:n%y the imperative demand, forthcoming from each of the two tendencies as soon as it is materialised by the splitting, to be pursued to the very end, as if there was an endl' (296). Despite the fact that he sees no end to this oscillation. Bergson does accord value to the return to the 'simple life', which led to the dismissal of his late philosophy as quietistic. But in the terms of his argument, things are less straightforward. If mystical life is being identified with frenzy and with the disequilibrium of the senses, it seems somewhat humorous to call it a 'simple life'. Moreover, despite the ontological expressivity of the mystic, he or she cannot in the end be described as an empty vessel through which light pours. In the footnote to the crucial passage with which we started this chapter, Oeleuze even refers us to 'the man who tricks natUre, extending 'beyond' the plane and renuning to a nanuing Nature' (B 135). Once again, Bergsonism in Deleuze's hands is revealed to be a superior Neoplatonism: for the ability of the mystic to become Natura noturansis achieved only by going against NoLttra

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The Occult Unam.w:iow: Sympathy and the Sorcerer

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natuml4. There is a 'life' of nature which is prior to nature itself. 'Nature ... is the name we give to the totality of compliances and resistances which life

encounters in raw matter' (Bergson 1932: 311). The coming to consciousness that Deleuze describes in the passage only occurs through the tricking of nature as it tuttuJl/:y exists. There is a higher Nature, beyond actual nature. Bergson himself already admits that there is !IOmething 'unnatural' about universal sympathy. 'Man outwits nat:l.J:re when he extends social solidarity into the brotherhood of man ... he is deceiving her', because the maintaining of intergroup hostility is essential to evolutionary development (Bergson 1932: 57). It is as true today that the figure of the mystic still drives Darwinists into a fury. He or she is an unnatural figure, who no longer confonns to the established laws of nature (that is, the laws of established nature). Now, when Deleuze ventures that frenzy involves 'scrambling the planes of nature', he is in effect exuerbating this aspect of Bergson's argument. But in doing !IO, the mystic's rrue identity is revealed. What Deleuze shows is that in any case, Bergson is not. ultimately talking about mystics, but about sorcerers. In the mystic's exaltation, says Bergson. things are seen on a vast scale, but through the lens of a simplicity that allows the mystic to act decisively. The mystical soul has access to 'an innate science, or rather an acquired ignorance', which 'suggests to it straightaway the step to be taken, the decisive act, the unanswerable word' (232; trans. modified). But Bergson himself denies that mysticism is equivalent to or comparable to magic, which he instead presents as a kind of deluded belief in the omnipotence of thoughts (as Freud had done in Thtem and Taboo) (Bergson 1932: 167). Although he recognizes rhe role of heightened emotion in magic, his main focUll is on its lamentable inability to bring about change in nature. The sorcerer is the one who curses his rival rather than attempting to challenge him physically. He turns imp&renee (the inability to control weather, for instance) to his adwru:age, gaining personal power through exploiting gaps in human knowledge and technical capacity. He takes associative rules (such as the substitution of part for whole, or the association of like with like) and applies them, with the help of the intrinsic delirium of the fabulating function, to events over which he has no power. The !IOrcerer is a mere shadow of the mystic, who is on the contrary a 'genius of the will' (58). But the problem is that all the attributes he ascribes to the mystic can also be attributed with even more justification to the magician. First, the 'unna1:lJ.Tal' panidpation of the mystic in life seems only to come into its own in magic and sorcery. The sorcerer takes the shon cut to wisdom, over the saint who subordinates his meditations to theological principle. Second, Bergson's statement that mysticism involves a frenzy recalls the statements of sorcerers rather than those of saints. The active cultivation of frenzy is central to the practice of magic, on any account. In his Magi.ck in T1I.mry and Prtut.iu, Crowley writes that the secret of magical invocation is to .tmjiarn.e tkyselfin fYrayini ... Just as the poet, the lover. the artist, is carried out of himself in creative frenzy, so mUllt it be for the Magician' (Crowley 1973: 251). Third, Bergson'5 claims about the frenzy that is proper to duration and

168

Deleuze and the Unronscious

creative force of the iltm vitallead, as Deleuze suggests, to the idea of unna.tu.nJ.l participations in other forms of life (the 'scrambling of the planes of nature'). For if the frenzy proper to capitalism is a frenzy of the intelligence, then convenely medieval frenzy is a frenzy of instinct. We know that intelligence is opposed to instinct. and that the latter involves the power of sympathy. So everything pointll to the conclusion that the frenzy of mysticirm proceeds via a revival of the power ofinstincmal sympathy in univenal fonn. It therefore involves the scrambling of the planes of nature from the beginning. If there is no doubt that the history of magic is filled with tales of charlatans who exploit impotence in order to gain power, legions of charlatans, at the same time it is ako host to a tradition of son:ery which precisely involves an affective tranJIformation into animals, and an acquisition of their pawen. Mystia do not actively identify with animals, but sorcerers do. Thus, by his own lighb, Bergson is unjustified in distinguishing mysticism from sorcery. Deleuze's insight here is 10 suggest that the connection between Bergson's theories of frenzy and instinct allow in turn for a philosophical defence of sorcery, rather than mysticism. There is no other choice but 10 descend further into this weird underworld that is opening up beneath our feet. For if emotion is what distinguishes the human being from the animal, this power is the precipitate of a subttaetion of interest from instinct. Bergson is gesturing towards an 'innate science' that would be proper to 'sorcery': a science which could manipulate the flows of emotion through frenzy. If emotion is the sublimation or Auj1vJJu.lIfof instinct and intelligence, then it is no wonder that man is capable of such frenzies. The instincts (and, if we follow Jung, their archetypes) retain their independence, but now there existll a being that can bring about in itself successively 'everything that, elsewhere, can only be' embodied in different species'. Deleuze is drawing the consequences of Bergson's and Jung's suggestion that some son of reintegration between each half - instinct and intelligence - is possi.ble, and that to achieve tha.t would be to finally earn the right to claim that the human being is a distinctive being In the order of life. Deleuze insists that this is the privilege of the human being, and this alone. And what is this creative emotion, if not precisely a coam.ic Memory, that actualises aU the levelA at the same time, that liberates man from plane or the level that is proper to him, in order to make him a creator, adequate to the whole movement of creation? This liberation, this embodiment of cosmic memory in creative emotions, undoubtedly only t:akes place in privi. leged souls. It leaps from one soul to another, 'every now and then', crOll8ing closed deserts. But to each member of a closed society, if he opens himself to it, it communicates a kind of reminiscence. ali excitement that allows him to follow. (B Ill) Man is therefore not primarily the mtional animal. nor even Mmo tUSthetiau, but is before and above aU else, the magical animal. In the substantial section

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on sorcery in A Thowtmd Plateaus, Deleuze at last fully draws the consequence of his earlier tentative suggestiom about the participation in the frenzies of natUre. The paradigm shift that is under way here is most starkly exposed in the 'Conclusion' to the book. under the heading 'Rhizome'. After summing up, in a highly condensed passage, their theory of multiplicities - a concept that was fundamental to Deleuze in Dif/n'eIUe and ~ - Deleuze and Guatt3rl conclude by quickly listing lhe three ways in which multiplicities can be ~ One never encounters a multiplicity 'in person' except under the following conditions. The division is as follows: multiplicities can be expressed passively, actively, or in theory. We have already been using this distinction between passive and active relatiomhips to the uncon.scious. On lhe one hand, the pt.u.srve relationship to lhe unconscious is the path of individuation, which is articulated around a psychotic moment, at the heart of every neurosis. Deleuze thinks that normality rests on a hidden psychosis or deliriwn, which is encountered at one point of lhe individuation process. But this crisis in individuation in rom is only resolved by taking an attWe approach to the unconscious. Delewe and Guattari - who refer to themselves in the plateau on 'Becoming-Animal' as 'we sorcerers' - are able to conclude that 'at the level of padws . . . multiplicities are expreMed by psychosis and especially schizophrenia. At the level of pragmatics. they are utilized by sorcery' (ATP 506). Given Deleuze's and Guattari's astonishing conclusion. it is perfecdy possible to read their ideas about drugs and secret societies in lhe plateau on 'Beooming-Animal' as coming from within that general tIadition. 'BecomingIntense, Becoming-Animal, Becoming-Imperceptible' is, among other things, a late modern occult treat:ise. 2 The hwnan being. in its most active essence, alien and anomalous even to itself, is therefore most purely expressed in the sorcerer, the only successfuJ. madman - so successful in fact that he is the universal object of horror. and excluded from history. But the very act of exposing this primal, mad conjuror of forces, at the edge of society and history, as the figure behind the veil of repression is itself an act of historiography. Our historical perspectives our inverted. The witch-hunts did not occur in 'the middle ages', as is commonly thought, but began in earnest with the publication of the Mal.l.ew MaJefit:mvm in 1484, and ended in the late seventeenth century. They occurred in the Renaissance. One of the witnesses of the death at the stake of Giordano Bruno in 1600 recounts some of the eight heretical propositions which Bruno refused to recant 'that there are innumerable worlds; that magic is a good and licit thing; that the Holy Spirit is the anima mu1ldi.; that Moses did his miracles by magic in which he was more proficient than the Egyptians; that Christ was a Magus' (yates 1964: 354). A contemporary list of censured propositiom in Bruno's work includes the claims lhat the infinity of God implies the infinity of the univel1le, and that the stars are angels. among others concerned with the creation of the human soul and the motion of the earth. It was Bruno's hermeticism that was repre!l8ed before all else, and which resurfaces again, in shifting baroque disguises, in Leibniz, Spinoza, Schelling, Jung and Deleuze.

170

Becoming-Animal The themes of sympathy, becoming·animal and sorcery are interlinked, and all come together in the famous Chapter on 'Becoming-Animal' in A 'lhbusa/nd PlaUaus. Deleuu and Guattari introduce their strange theme of 'becominganimal' with a reference to an obscure Amerit:an film from the 1970s, Will4ni, which ponnys the descent of a man into a society of rats. 'Who has not known the violence of these animal sequences, which uproot one from humanity, if only for an instant, making one scrape at one's bread like a rodent -or giving one the yellow ey~ of a feline?' (ATP 240). The relationship between man and animal 'has been constantly misunderstood by psychoanalysis, because psychoanalysis is unable to see in it anything but all-too-human Oedipal figures' (CC 54; ct. ATP 259). Freud's patient, Sergei, had a dream of 'Ox or !leVen' wolves observing him frOm a cree. In his interpretation, Freud reduces the multiplicity of wolves to one wolf, adding that this is a displacement of the father. But the multiplicity of wolves already indicates that Freud's starting premise is problematic. We have already seen that wolves may first of all function as symbols. But the indetenninate multiphd!)' of wolves. say Deleuze and Guawui also has potency for other reasons. Although the wolf tends to be a lone animal, it also assembles in packs. This pack-fonn of sociali!)' is scarcely a social organizl:aion of the Conn taken by, say. primates. A pack of wolves is a strange society of lone animals. The French word (fa meu.te) Deleuze uses signifies more than 'pack' (which would more appropriately translate the word haw), Meute is a term from htmring, rather than ethology. It may be a natural organisation or a domesticated organization, as in a pack of foxhounds, Second, meute can also be used to described a crowd or mob of people in pursuit. Third, the er.ymological roOl of meute is moovoir'. Deleuze classes In. mt1Ue.S among l£s clas$l$, l£s peopln, In. 10il!.S, l£s tIUllieS (DI 275) which provoke delirium. This gives the impression of a swanning presence around one. as if being chased by spiriu or demons. When the Wolf Man faces a nIl11Jtt of wolves, he is aM:fused in peculiar way; it is as if a group is singling him out personally, turning to him and saying: Hello Sergei, we've been waiting for you. If s time to aiffll with US now. The discussion of 'becoming-animal' begins with a comparison between Jung's and Levi--SrraUM's approaches to cases of apparent 'identifications' with animals, whether it be in dreams, fantasies, or in hallucinatory episodes. Deleuze and Guattari state that there are two !)'pes of 'analogy' that are involved in the Jungian and structuralist approaches to animal symbolism. Jung's use of animals is restricted insofar as he relies on merely external resemblances between images, and is regulated by the linear logic of individuation (certain symbols only appear at certain stages of life, like the whale and rebirth). Also, Jung's approach only seems to concern 'animals as they are treated in the great divine myths, in such a way as to extract from them series or structures, arche!)'pes or models'. and overlooks the 'more demonic animals'. The relation of analogy is falsified by these resrrictions. ~trauss

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abolishes analogies of resemblance and fOCWleS on strUctw-al analogies only. 'A man can never say: 'I am a bull, a wolf ...', but he can say 'I am to a woman what a bull is to a cow. I am to another man what the wolf is to the sheep" (ATP 236). However, both Jungianism and structuralism leave one panicular phenomenon unexplained:' 'alongside the two models ... there is still room for something else, some!hing more secret, more subterranean: tJu $urr;.eret' and becomings, expressed in tales [nldtsJ instead of myths or rites' (ATP 257). So what is not being explained by Jungianism or struCturalism is a specific set of U'ansformations found moSt distinctly not in psvchopathology or tribal custom, but in magic or sorcery. '·We believe in the existence of very special becomings-animal traversing human beings and sweeping them away, affecting the animal no less than the human.' The first example, to set the &Cene for the rest of this chapter. is the becoming-bat of the vampire. "From 1730 to 1735, all we hear about are vampires" (ATP 237); neXf up is the lycanthrope. another creature not often seen in clinic today. Such transformations provide the material for the notion of 'becoming' (devtnirl: 'SU1lcturalism does not account for these becomings ... A correspondence of relations does not add up to a becoming' (ATP 237). 'We do not become animal without a fascination for the pack' (ATP 239). Fascination itself is a magical term, again connected with animal t:ra.nSformation. Crowley refers to 'the arts of 'fascination' in its proper sense - the word comes from the Latinfascinum', i.e. enchantmento~ witchcraft (Crowley 1917: 32). Traditionally. the art of fascination was said to involve the working of magical effects by means of visual 'emissions'. One alchemical text from the fifteenth century by AlOt18O Tostado links the hypnotic gaze of the basilisk to the visual power of wolves and menstruating women (Newman 2004: 203). But this somniacal gaze is imbued with virtUality rather !han actuality. Crowley goes on to compare the blind fascination of love with the magical arts of fascination: 'You transform yourself, like ,zeus into swan or bull, like Lucius into an ass, like the Egyptian magi into an hawk. swallow or ibis, or like the Syrian into a dove, and by this means compel the desired otMect to your anus.' This blind~ ness of magical fascination defines magical divination itself. the attainment of visions through programmed, ritual intoxicalion. Delewe and Guattari insist that these becomings-animal are not imitations or identifications, because 'they are perfectly real' (ATP 2~). They qualify: 'But which reality is at issue here?' Their subsequent explanations are obscure, but some light emerges when they explicitly relate 'the principle according to which there is a reality specific to becoming' to 'the Bergsonian idea of a coex~ istence of very different 'durations', superior or inferior to 'OUl'8', aU of them in communication' (ATP 238). In his 'Introduction to Metaphysics', Bergson suggests that his method also allows one to pass beyond the opposition between realism and idealism, and 'to affirm the existence of objects both inferior and superior to us, though nevertheless in a certain senlle interior ro us' (Bergson 190~: 184; d. B 77). If our conscious duration can include simpler instinctive durations, which are in tum components of periodic cycles

172

lJeltuze and the Unconscious

(for instance, respiration, sleeping and waking, menstroal cycles), then it might be that consciousness itse1f can be altered so as to be able to select various durations and their associated spatioternpornl dynamisms. BecaUlle its being is in time as weD as space, the human being has the ability to alter its '!peed', and participate in a vast range of 'fluxes'. In principle, it has the power lO isolate the rate of deterritorialiution for any entity, to assess how much energy it ill not JUSt using but generating. The human being, by being capable of scrambling the planes, in principle possesses the eyes of the world. On the one hand, its body is composed of 'inferior' durations, but on the other hand, its very capacity to divide its consciousness points to the possibility if not necessity of a 'superior' synthesis, beyond the partial integrations of the ego. In their remarks on becoming here, Deleuze and Guattari are effectively redeploying Bergson's theories about duration and cosmic time within a renewed theosophical and pantheistic esotericism.' Deleuze's turn to a discusnon of sorcery in A 'I'howt.md Plateaus marks a return to hill early interest in esoteric thought In The Atlan:hy and Hieran::h'j of Kf1bl.IIUrilge MaIfatti generates the relations of polarity and power between the various human organs, and then goes on to relate them to a 'double body' with a 'double sex', a spiritual hermaphrodite, with its organs each in relation with an aspect of the cosmos. As in Schelling's later theosophical thought, the world is the body of God, and we are its coming to consciousness. Deleuze iterates that' I!€SIas'j is precisely the act through which the individual raises itself to the level of the species' (Deleuze 1946: xxii). But this ecstasy will not be our own species consciousness, but our possible participation in other species consciousnesses. 'Before the fall, Adam existed as humanitas' (xxii). But MaUatti rejects the residual traCes of Christianity in the theosophical tradition, and returns to the sexualecstatic aspects of Indian mysticism, laying out a vast sexualized ontology, culminating in the 'hermaphroditic' consciousness of the human sexual act. What ill remarkable is that aD of these ideas resurface in disguise in one of Deleuze's valedictory texts, 'To Have Done witbJudgment', publillhed in 1993. There the 'body without organs' (which is a phrase from Anand, another occult-intoxicated artist) is illuminated by its esoteric roots: 'The body without organs is an affective, intensive, anarchist body that consists solely of poles, zones, thresholds, and gradients. It ill traversed by a powerful, nonorganic vitality. Lawrence paints the picture of such a body, with the sun and moon as its poles, with its planes, its sections, and its plexuses' (CC 131). Lawrence's Fantasia of the UncffflSCious contains a chapter entitled 'Plexuses, Planes and so on', which is based on an esoteric account of the 'subtle body', made up of a 'vital magnetism' organized in dynamic polarities." The sorcerer is the ideal microcosmic being, exposed foe better or worse to 'the very forces of the universe' (Lowry 1947: 189), exposed to aD the waves and spasms that pass through the body of God. At the dose of his case study of President Schreber, Freud remarks that Schreber's 'rays of God' are 'nothing else than a concrete representation and projection outwards oflibid· inal cathexes' (SE 12: 78); they are 'endopsychic perceptions of the processes

The Occult Umonsciow: Sympathy and Uu! Stmerer

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I 73

whose existence I have assumed . . . as the basis of our explanation of paranoia'. In his seminar on the psychoses, Lacan adds that in Schreber's theory of the divine rays the reader may 'vaguely see something that isn't totally diJlerent from what I teach about the way one has to describe the functioning of the unconscious' (l.acan 1955--6: 27). Both psychoanalysts allow, amazingly, that a psychotic can have 'endopsychic perception' of their unconscious forces. In A1lti-Ottlipw, Schreber is one of a gallery of schizophrenics who are said in language that reminds us of the Bergsonian magician to be able to 'scramble all the codes' (AD 15). The schizophrenic is 'homo natum' (AD 5), the 'celibate machine' who 'gives birth to a new humanity or a glorious organism' (17). 'The being who is in intimate contaCt with the profound life of aU forms or aU types of beings, who is responsible for even the tarS and organ-machine into an energy-machine, a tree into his body, a breast into his mouth, the sun into his asshole: the eternal custodian of the machines of the universe' (AO 4). Beyond the polarity between schizophrenia and paranoia, therefore, there is a dynamic oscillation between schizophrenia and sorcery, as passive and active expressions of intensive multiplicity. One of the most famous boob of medieval magic was Al-Kindi's On llays ur A 1'Iuory of M4gi£al Am.. 'Each star possesses its proper place in the machine of the world, which is different all the others ... The rays of stars vary,just as the aspects and properties of stars vary ... The rays of all the stars operate diversely upon the things of the world according to the diverse properties of things themselves, seeing as everything is born and subsists thanks to the rays' (Al-Kindi 1977: 82, 84). The language of invisible rays runs through both magical and psychotic writings. Deleuze's appeal to the language of 'flows'. 'intensities', 'force' and 'power' is rooted in that curious convergence; Deleuze uses philosophy (specifically rationalist philosophers such as SpinOla or Leibniz) to subordinate the hideous couple, psychosis and sorcery, to reason.

Sorcery of Capitalism In a recent essay entided 'Deleuze's Last Message' &eng-ers has cast illwninalion on Deleuze'lIlast te!tt with Guattari, Mat is Philosophyt, a text that many find both obscure and 'conservative', because of its defence of a strict demar· cation between the three disciplines of philosophy, science and art. Stengers emphasizes that the authors' real answer to the question 'what is philosophy?' lies in the fonowing paragraph of the book:

Thinking provokes general indifference. It is a dangerous exercise nevertheless. Indeed, it is only when the dangers become obvious that indifference ceases, but they often remain hidden and barely perceptible, inherent in the enterprise. Precisely because the plane of immanence is prephilosophical and does not immediately take effect with concepts, it implies a sort of groping experimentation and its layout resorts to measures that are not very respectable, rational, or reasonable. These measures belong to the order of

174

Deleuze and the UnconsGio'US

dreams. of pathological processes, esoteric experiences, dnmkenness, and excess. We head for the horizon, on the plane of immanence, and we return with bloodshot eyes, yet they are the eyes of the mind. Even Descartes had his dream. To think is always to follow the witch's flight. (WP 41) Stengers is of course aware that taking up this 'answer' to the question 'what is philosophy?' 'may well mean facing such accusations as irrationality, superstition, and regression' (Stengers 20(6). but that it is necessary nonetheless. as she proceeds to demonstrate. Stengers is a philosopher and historian of science (among other things. she co-authored the groundbreaking philosophical book on non-linear thermodynamics, La NOUVBlle AUiance [translated as Order out of Chaos), with Ilya Prigogine in 1979), and has recently flown In the face of the increasing dominance of scientific naturalism by translating into French the works of the American nco-pagan witch and political activist Starhawk. Her interest in 'sorcery' appears to arise in part from an increasing interest in the work of Deleuze and Guattari, and not directly from her work on hypnosis and somnambulism (Chertok and Stengers 1992). In a recent work, La SarcellBrit Capitaliste (CapittJlist Sorcery), co-written with Philippe Pignarre. Stengers channels these aspect& of Deleuze and Guau:ari's project towards a future 'counter-sorcery' against the necromantic techniques of contemporary capitalism. They claim that capitalism itself can be thought of as a 'system of sorcery without sorcerers' (Pignarre and Stengers 2005: 59), ceaselessly presenting us with 'infernal alternatiyes'. They argue that there is a real sense in which contemporary capitalism does notJUSt want your body. but your soul. Instead of calling for a practice of'demystificarion' (as in traditional critical theory), they call for a practice of counter-sorcery. There is of course a tradition within Marxism which compares the experience of the commodity to a bewitchment by a fetish. In CapiIal, Marx had argued that there is a fetishism that is proper to commodities in general, insofar as they posses6 !he power to fascinate the observer, and make them forget that their value is intrinsic to them, rather than being produced by labour. The desirability of commodities arises from their power to fascinate, to suspend empirical reality and embody the quality of transcendence. The structure of fetishism is 'We know what it really is, but all the same', and laek argues that the 'posanodem' subject is fundamentally cynical, obeying the law in order to have the pleasure of enjoyment of the commodity. In order to counteract this tendency, Ziiek invokes a psychoanalytic discoW"5e of trauma: we must recognize that the enjoyment involved is itself a response to a traumatic and contingent encounter. The approach of Pignarre and Stengers is quite differenL H commodities have the power to fascinate us, then that is because we ourselves have the power to fascinate and be fascinated. and capitalism has seized upon this power.~ For capitalism, the unconscious exists first of all as a force to be manipulated. By restricting di.scussion of the Wlconscious to the discourse of psychopathology, psychoanalysis has been unwittingly complidt with capitalism. When a salesman or manager (or an

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The Occult Unconscious; Sympathy and the Sr:m:erer

175

academic or writer, for that matter) becomes devoted to advancing their career at any cost, their soul has been stolen or capmred. When one is forced to take place in workplace 'bonding' exercises, a level of humiliation is involved which in some ways surpasses physical oppression. 'It no longer concerns a pseudo
Vampires, Intoxication and Night-Consciousness In Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Serbia in the earty eighteenth cenmry there

was indeed something of a vampire epidemic. There were many tales of the undead crawling out of their graves, terrorizing the local population and having to be pubtically executed and laid to rest. Numerous learned swdies on vampirism appeared in Latin and German between 1728 and 1735.7 The reasons for this collective panic are stitt not dear. Even at the rime. sceptics maintained that the 'undead' were really victims of premature burial. who had either been struck down by cholera or the plague, or had ingested some unknown poison. Another sceptic claimed that: vampire hunters were under the influence of opium (lntrovigne 2001: 603). Rut theological and esoteric explanations were also proffered. thus heightening the controversy. Some theologians claimed that vampire phenomena, alongside lycanthropy and sorcery, were real, and that vampires were corpses animated by demons or the Devil himself. Michael Ranft, on the other hand, explained me teeth marks on the insides of coffins as due to the failed attempt of the astral body to depart from the corpse. In a 1732 article entitled 'The Dead Eat and Drink'. J. C. Dippel appealed to 'the prevailing esoteric wisdom of the time, [that] humans had three souls (vegetative or astral. sensitive and rational)'. This view had been kept alive in Renaissance Germany by the Paracelsian tradition of medicine. Ranft and Dippel advanced the idea that me astral soul remained for a while in the body of the deceased, and could - under particular circumstances - be seen by others and be mistaken for a vampire' (Introvigne 2001: 6(4). With his Dissertations SUT les apparitions (1746). however. Dom Augustin Calmet intervened to absolutely deny the exh;tence of vampires, a position that was gladly taken up by the Church. Although the Roman Catholic Church accepted the existence of ghosts (souls confined in Purgatory, and the damned in Hell), they denied that suc.h souls coUld rewrn to earth, whether in the bodies of the dead or living. To affinn otherwise was to tilt tow.m:ls esoteric theories of the astral body.

176

Deleu:ze and the Unconsciow

Disappointingly, Deleuze and Guattari do not otIer an explanation of the vampire phenomenon. But the wave of vampire terror coming from Eastern Europe at this point perhaps can be related to baroque developments in ideas about the soul happening at the same time. It is perhaps significant that m~t of the tomes written on vampires during the 1730-5 period were published in Germany. The phenomena of somnambulism were just beginning to emerge into public conllCiousness. The scholarly treatises on vampirism seem haunted by the idea that the soul could be entrapped in the body at death. One vampire investigator cites the case of the scholastic philosopher Duns &otus, who, it is reported. WlU taken for dead and buried. after having fallen into a trance-like swoon (ciied in Sununers 1929: ISO). The question of the survival of the soul after death had been undergoing baroque development in Leibniz's philosophy at this poinL Leibniz complains that even the Cartesians have 'accommodated themselves too much to the prejudice of the masses by confusing a long Jiupor, which arises from a great confusion of perceptions, with dMlh strialJ sfwJking, in which aU perception ceases' (Leibniz 1714: 208; d. 1714b, #14). But if the experience of dying is akin to swooning, might not death itself, by extension. be a prolonged swoon. 'Death can only be a sleep, and not a lasting one at that: the perceptions merely cease to be suffidendy distinct' (Leibniz 1765: 55). Dizziness, swooning, dying. In dizziness. and as [ swoon, my consciousness "relaxes'. and I am 'invaded by minute. perceptions that do not become for all that conscious perceptions'" 'Every time Leibniz speaks of Ideas. he presents them as virtual multiplicities made of differential relations ~d singular points. which thought apprehends in a state close to sleep, stupor, swooning, death, amnesia. murmuring or intoxication' (DR 213). In his 'Monadology', Leibniz sa')'ll that 'What we call generatian.s are developments [dewloppemens) and growths, as what we call deaths are envelopments [Enveloppmen.sJ and diminutions' (Leibniz 1714b: 222, # 73. trans. modified).!! For Fechner in the Littl8 &ok of Life after Ikath, death marks the end of physical development, but the beginning of an envelopment to varying degrees in other, future lives. After presenting Leibniz's philosophical arguments for the existence of unconscious perceptions Deleuze describes how Leibniz might have gone about finding the experience which confinns the concept: When the very beautiful coincidence of principles and experience occurs, philosophy knows its moment of happiness, even if it is personally the misfortune of the philosopher ... So it is necessary Cor experience to show me that under certain conditions of disorganization in my consciousness, minute perceptions force open the door of my consciousness and invade me. (Third Lecture on Leibniz, 9) The roaring sea is not enough to reveal the nablre of unconscious perceptions, as we can remain "Stoically on the shore. buttressing the wind, but our souls are still dosed to any further repercussions of the din. Hence it is necessary to seek

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out these unconscious perceptions, by 'slackening the tension' of consciousness. Leibniz's euJJ!lul might have first occurred after being clubbed in the head, perhaps by some impatient empiricist. Perhaps he found what he was looking for: at such moments, Deleuze venl1.1reS. 'the philosopher says: everything is fine. ids as it should be'. Philosophy, at last, can begin. With another blow to the head, or another bite from the vampire. the philosopher's double begins to stir. This detached, somnambulistic soul passes through the 'weird tales' of the nineteenth and early twentieth cent:ury. Deleuze refers at thisjuncmre to Poe's famous 'The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar', which tells the story of a ma.n who willingly undergoes the expe.riment of being mesmerized at the point of death.9 Poe later published the story in England as a hoax, first as 'The Last Conversation of a Somnambule', and then again in a pamphlet entitled Mesmerirm in ArliI:ulo Mortis [in the state of dying], which presented the 'astonish· ing and horrifying narrative' as a 'plain recital of facts'.1ll The story encapsulates the transition in the attitude towards death that had come about ,ince the emergence of somnambulism. If Leibniz was the first philosopher of the unconscious, it took the emergence of somnambulism into the common culture of the nineteenth century to give concrete shape to the basic idea he had articulated. Poe's story crystallizes a newfound terror that is waiting to be thought in this period. As we have 8een, many thinkers increasingly related the function of consciousness to practical adaptation to the environment. But the reality of somnambulistic phenomena pointed in another direction entirely; the somnambulistic unconscious was one step removed from the body and itt tasks of adaptation. Could it be that sonmambu1ism was the ltey to the immortal soul, whose very existence had begun recently to be put in doubt by pragmatic and materialist explanations of consciousness? Poe's story draws the unfortunate consequences of this train of thought: if there is a soul, then it is not in itself conscious in the way that we know from our practical experience. In the eighteenth century, the soul is rediscovered in somnambulism, but it is disoriented. no longer attached to the 'function of reality' (in janet's tenm), lacking the ballast of the present (in BeIglion's). It has a 'life' of some sort; it is liued in a certain way. Without the constraints of the empirical body it is something horrific and demonic, perpetually in flight. Vampires are ludd somnambulists, dreaming while awake, refusing to shut their eyes when they dream. In one of his last texts, 'To Have Done with Judgment' (1993), which can be treated as a final summation of his most original ideas, Deleuze contends that the power of dreaming can be harne!llled and 'surpassed' by artificial meanJl. He claims that Nieusche, Lawrence, Kafka and Anaud 'denounce in the dream ... a state that is still too immobile, and too directed, too governed'. Perhaps the basic reference here is BergllOn's theory of dreams. which ill expounded in some detail in Cinema 2. If the liberation of virtuality is triggered by the dream, the dream always remains tethered to actuality. It is only a panialliberation of the mind, as its freedom is always limited by its ballast, the body paralysed in the bedroom, its consciousness remaining always at the mercy of the stimuli that filter through the disengaged

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178

Deleuze and the Unccmstious

senses (the flickering curtains. the banging coming from the flat above. the television murmuring downstairs). From the perspective of Bergson's later theories about mysticism (and even more so from the perspective of Deleuze's diagnosis that Bergsonian mysticism is really sorcery), dreaming has to be seen as a passive apprehension of the virtual. and hence an inadequate approach 10 it. Dreaming taps into a power of virtuality, but does not attempt to harness it. Deleuze goes on to turn vehemently on those who model their explorations of the unconscious on the dream: 'Groups that are deeply interested in dreams, like psychoanalysts or surrealists. are also quick to form tribunals thatjudge and punish in reality: a disgusting mania. frequent in dreamers.' It is no accident. insinuates Deleuze, that 'the question of judgment is first of all knowing whether one is dreaming or not'. Guattari too is to be found saying 'dreams are 11 fundamentally reterritorialization activities' in a fascinatingjoumal from 1972. Our subjective attitude to the dream necessarily occurs in two stages: first, we are passive spectators of the unfolding of the dream, while it is happening: but then, by virtue of our immediate dissociation from the dream upon awaking. we are necessarily always separated from it, and thrown back on the position of decoding it. Our hopeless desire to find the meaning of the dream commits us to a futile chase after its 'shadows' and doubtful appearances. 12 In the sequel to his Confessions ofan opium-Eater, De Quincey claims that 'the object of that work was to reveal something of the grandeur which belongs potentldUy to human dreams' (De Quincer 1845: 132).13 Dreams are indeed a gateway to another world; the problem, therefore. is how to get through that gateway. H one has gOt to the poim where one has discovered an and creation to be the only acts of perfection possible for human beings, then the framework has changed: we no longer seek to judge life or to get past its illusions to a single truth. hut rather to commit ourselves to the task of creation. Dreams bear with them hints of secret powers - divination, complete recall, resurrection of the dead. The 'big dreams' of which Jung speaks. leave the dreamer shaken, sometimes for days. And as we have seen, there is more to nocturnal consciousness than dreams, as the night is fined with other phenomena; nightmares. noctumal emissions produced without physical stimulation, sleeptalking. sleep-walking. Is it poSSible for consciousness to 'become adequate to the night'? Deleuze goes on to say that'once we leave the shores ofjudgmenl, we also repudiate the dream in favour of an 'intoxication'. like a high tide sweeping over us. What we seek in states of intoxication - drink, drugs, ecstasies - is an antidote to both the dream and judgment.. Whenever we tum away from judgment towards justice. we enter into a dreamless sleep' (CC 130). At first sight, the reference to 'sleep without dream' [sommnJ. sans me] might seem to indicare deep sleep. undisturbed by dreams; in other words, profound unconsciousness. To have done with dreams in this case would be to get a refreshing. untroubled sleep. But we know that from a 8ergsonian perspective, there are no dreamless sleeps, only sleeps in which dreams are not recalled. Deleuze goes on to draw a distinction (invisible in English. which

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uses 'sleep' indiscriminately) between sommeil and tIurmer. 'We are not asleep [dornum.s] during this sleep without dream [.sommm sans 7'Cue)'. The two words have different Latin etymologies: domtW refers to the state of physical sleep, whereas somnio is translated 'I am dreaming'. It is cue that the ambiguity is there even in Latin; somnium is a dream or vision, whereas somnw can simply mean 'sleep'. But the latter can also refer to death, as well as dream and sleep alike. Somnio and dormW can therefore be taken to refer to distinct concepts. Somnio of course survives in English through the addition of ~ in 'somnambulism" but the words somno1.ency, or somnolent do not capmre the visionary aspects of the Latin and French terms. Perhaps an obsolete English term, somniation. comes dosest to Deleuze's meaning here, in that it inserts a current of activity into visionary states. In the nineteenth century. when drug use was legal, it was nevenhelcss veiled in polite company by me use of euphemisms, of which 'sleep' was favoured among those of a Romantic disposition. Coleridge tells us that he composed 'Kubla Khan' 'in a profound sleep' (Lefebure 1975: 25~). In h~ notebooks, he writes of the 'somniacal magic ... superinduced in the active powers of the mind' (Coleridge 1838: III. 397). Mordecai Cooke's classic work The Seven Sisters ofSleep (1860) classes opium, hashish and other drugs under the rubric of 'sleep'. In literature, there is often more to the word 'sleep' than mere dozing. But it would be foolish to look for direct 'translations' between terms when we are dealing with esoteric discourse. It could be nOt so much that sleep, reverie or somf1U!il serve as euphemisms for succumbing to narcosis, but rather that they are the supreme conditions of the visiol1!l of successful narcosis. 'Even me Buddha had to sit' (Huston Smith, cited in Regardie 1968: 26). De Quincey says that me opium-eater 'naturally seeks solitude and silence, as indispensable conditions of those trances, or profoundest reveries, which are the crown and consummation of what opium can do for human nature' (De Quincey 1821: 81-2), Is drug experience the privileged state of soroniation, then, different in kind to dreaming? In a 1978 intervention on the theme of drugs, Deleuze argues that the psychoanalytic mood cannot capture the most basic feature of the drug experience. 'The failure of psychoanalysis in the face of drug phenomena is enough 1.0 show that drugs have an entirely differem causality ... My question is: Can we conceive of a specific causality of drugs and in what sense?' (TRM 152). The causal model of psychoanalysis was premised on the idea that 'desire invests a system of mnemic traces and affects'. Neuroses, dreams, psychosocial formations (for instance, myths) were an treated on this causal model, which dated from Freud's earliest work. The advantage of this model was that through it psychoanalysis managed to escape the established models of social or psychological causation. Deleuze further clarifies this point in A TlwtLsand Plllteaus, where the discussion of drugs is further expanded. For psychoanalysis, the libidinal investments at work in the unconscious are always inJemtd from their supposed symbolic derivatives. Freud's 'schema still relies on a plane of organization that can never be apprehended in itself, that is always

180

Deleuu and the Unconscious

concluded from lIOmething el8e, that is always inferred, concealed from the system of perception: it is caUed the Unconscious' (ATP 284). The unconscious 'stands in molar opposition to the perception-eonsciousness system'. Insofar as they are unconscious, the primary libidinal processes (desire) are by definition not themselves perceived. The unconscious is 'transcendent' to the plane of perception. Now as it stands, this point is not yet a critique of Freud., since Freud has perfectly good reasons for stating that the contents of the unconscious can only be inferred, and Deleuze and Guauari do not attempt to engage with these reasons here. The problem, they say. is that 'with druBll' there is lIOmething very unique. where desire ~ invests the systl!m of~ tWn' (TRM 152). They go on to say, in a concluding p:wa.ge that is finely ca1ibrated to cause maximum howls of outrage, that 'druBli give the unconscious the immanence and plane that psychoanalysis has consistendy botched', adding in parentheses that 'perhaps Freud's famous cocaine episode marked a turning point that forced Freud to renounce a direct approach to the unconscious' (ATP 284). There are at least three heresiesjostling in this one splendid sentence. First, there is said to be a 'd#r!d approach to the unconscious'. To those schooled in psychoanalysis, such a claim would be a simple oxymoron of a particularly idiotic kind. Second, drugs are said to give access to the unconscious in a more profound and 'immanent' way than psychoanalysis. For the same people, reading the discussion of drugs in .A Thou.sand Plateo.u.s in English. where 'Sf tkogueI is translated as 'to get high', this claim will appear risible. Third. Freud is said to have had more insight into the unconscious during his early period of personal and professional experimentation with cocaine. It is often said that the decisive turning point in the development of psychoanalysis is Freud's renunciation of hypnosis and affinnation of free association. But Deleme and Gualtari clearly !lay that the real, original. 'turning point' in psychoanalysis is Freud's renunciation of cocaine. Ifwe take this passage seriously- that is, ifwe take it as moce than an attempt to gratuitously wind up Freudians - we get a pure measure of how far from the Freudian universe Deleuze and Guatwi are. Drugs aUow one to tmi s own tlnc~ - without an analyst:. and without compromise. Even though it is true that Freud crossed the Acheron in exacdythe same fashion in his 'cocaine episode', it is hard to imagine any view more opposed to psychoanalysis, both theoreticaUy and institutionally. ~ping in mind Deleuze's rools in the 'lIOmnambu1iat' theory of the unconscious (Bergson,Janet andJung) helps to make some sense of the idea of a 'direct relationship with the unconscious'. The psychoanalytic mode! of the mind does indeed involve a strict, 'molar' opposition between the uncon9Cious and the perception-eonsciousness system. This ent.ailiJ that there is no dynamic space left for the possibility of altered statI1:s of am.s~ In psychoanalysu>, one is either conscious of $Omething or one is not, and it is beside the point whether there are dilI'erent kinds of consciousness. For the other tradition, though, which emphasizes the model of dissociation rather than a basic dynamic opposition between consciousness and the unconscious, the possibil-

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181

it}' of different kinds of consciowness is the key to understanding the structure of the mind. If we bear this in mind, then the dmg experience presents itself as simply the starkest illusDiltion of the potential for alternation belWeen dif· ferent kinds of consciousness, and is particularly potent as an example because its sole condition is the ingestion of an external, physical substance. No complex pathogenesis is neceMary. It is trUe that the psychoanalyst. who is supposed to he the expen on the non-rational motivations that flow through individual and collective life, does have a blindspot with regard to drug use. Psycboanalysts themselves repon that there has been an ovelWhebning failure in the attempt to treat drug addicts with psychoanalysis (Brickman 1988). It is trUe also that the prohlem of Freud's involvement with cocaine remains unresolved within the psychoanalytic tradition. But whether drug experience can in any significant way provide a direct encounter with the unconscious is another question. 'It is our belief, announce Deleuze and Guattari, 'that the issue of drugs can be understood only at the level where desire directly invests perception, and perception becomes molecular at the same time as the imperceptible is perceived. Drug:s then appear as 1M agent of this becoming. This is where pharmac~ analysis would come in, which must be both compared and contra.sted to psychoanalysis. For psychoanalysis mwt be taken simultaneously as a model, a contrasting approach, and a betrayal' (ATP 283, italic added). Psychoanalysis is a betrayal of the direct approach to the unconscious, through 'vital' drug-experimentation - that is the claim. But what 'W'aS betrayed? Surely not the potential of cocaine for mental selfexploration? In fact, the remark about Freud and cocaine is somewhat problematic. as it rests on Deleuze's and Guattarl's claim that distinctions belWeen hallucinatory and non-ballucinatory drugs are 'secondary': 'Change perception: the problem has been fonnulated con-ecdy because it presents "drugs as a pregnant whole free of secondary distinctions (h.a1lucinatory or nonhallucinatory, hard or !loft, etc.). All drugs fundamentally concern speeds. and modifications of speed' (ATP 282). Leaving aside the notion of 'speeds' of perception for now, it is bard. tD see how one could claim that nonhallucinatory drugs such as cocaine afford a 'direct approach tD the unconsciow' at all. In the Cliniuzl HaruJ1Jook of ~ Drugs, 'Drugs of Abuse' are divided between 'hallucinatory' (LSD, psilocybin, cannabis, mescaline), 'stimulant' (cocaine. amphetamines) and 'sedatM:' drugs (opium, heroin). It is hard tD understand how a drug whose main action is as a 1ltiInulant could allow one to 'approach' the unconscious, unless Deleuze and Guattarl mean that cocaine pennit:!l the taker to approach a certain condition of 'unconsciousness of self', of lack of critical reflexivity about one's own OT others' utterances. But that would not appear to be the kind of unconsciousness they have in mind. They do not (I think) mean that drugs give one the chance to approach an apotheosis of narcissistic obliviousness. The truth is that what Deleuze and Guattarl say about drugs in these pages only plawibly applies to hallucinogens. If Freud's theory oCthe unconscious M

182

Deleu:ze and the Uru;onscWus

was significandy influenced by his intensive use of cocaine during the 18905, then it is likely. as Peter Swales (Swales 1983) hall suggested. that it was by providing Freud with insight into me quantitative aspects of the rising and falling of sexual libido, all wen as of general vital energy. Freud used cocaine both as a sexual stimulant and a medication for depression. But there were other examples of drug use and experimentation in the late nineteenth cenwry which could conceivably have been 'betrayed' by me dominance of psychoanalysis in the twentieth century. An entirely different approach to drugs, based on experience of hallucinogens, was a feature of the landscape of French psychiatry at the fin tk mete. Whereas in Britain, studies on cannabis were restricted to the pages of medical and pharmacological journals, in France they appeared in respectable journals of philosophy and in periodicals devoted to hypnosis and psychotherapy, Bergson's work emerges from chis atmosphere, and he discusses drug experience several times, first in the context of his theory about the 'dream-pole' of consciousness, and later in the context of a discussion of the transcendence of empirical consciousness towards impersonal consciousness. When Bergson t.a.Ib of the 'expansion of consciousness', drug-experience is providing him with one of the models for what this is like. In the USA. philosophical enthusiallts of the 'anaesthetic revelation' (in the words of Benjamin Paul Blood, an early psychedelic transcendentalist in the Emersonian tradition) tended to relate drug-experience to religious experience, or specifically to a revival of pantheism. William James's famous remarks about his experience on nitrous oxide (including his climactic realisation, 'at last I undersl3lld Hegel') are related to this tradition; James underwent a conversion from empirical psychologist to metaphysical pantheist around the time of his drug experiences. Deleuze can be understood as the latest avatar of this line of thinking. But Deleuze and Guattari's contention about the role of drug experience in securing 'immanence' is also more fundamentally endebted to Henri Michaux (1899-1984), the Belgian poet, writer and painter. Michaux is a unique figure in French letters, and in A Thousand PlaUaus he is cited all the pre-eminent European explorer of altered states of consciousness, 'more willing' than the Americans 'to free himself ofrites and civilizations, establishing admirable and minute protocols of experience' (ATP 283).14 Michaux, however, only turned ID writing about drug experience in the mid-fifties, over thirty years after his first publications, and eight years after the death of his wife. He had experimented with and written in passing about drugs since the 19208, but it was only in 1956 that he published his book on mescaline, MisertJh~ Mirade, which was foDowed by a series of other drug-related writings, including Infinitll TurlJu.lence (1957), Knowledgethmugh tkeAbyss (1961) and TheMajurOrtltlalsoftheMindand Cottntkss Minor Ones (1966). Michaux's grief in the aftennath of his wife's death (from injuries suffered afte~ her nightgown had accidentally caught fire) may have been a condition for his later urge ID plunge headlong into experiments with mescaline, which he believed to mimic the effects of schizophrenia. At the time (LSD had only just been synthesized) mescaline was

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thought by a number of psychologists 1:0 be the drug that mosl effectively simuJated schizophrenia.. U According to Jean-Pierre Martin, the author of a recent biography of Michaux, 'Michaux was looking for a psychotropic which would not immobilise him and which would pennit him to approach madness' (Martin 2003: 517). On his fourth experiment with mescaline, a 'calculating error' with the dosage led him to conswne six rimes the normal dosage, leading to the experiences which are recounted in a chapter of Miserable Mimde called 'Experience of Madness'. Martin draws the conclusion: 'Wasn't it precisely this risk that he was looking for? Without having planned it, the error of dosage was a necessary station, even ifhe had 1:0 pass through 'horror' and 'atrocity' (these are his words)' (Martin 20'03: 519). In his drug experiments, Mkhaux apparently did not think of himself as fleeing from harsh reality, even in the aftennatb of grief. He refused the sedative attractions of heroin or morphine, and although he regularly used hashish, his most valued drug was mescaline, whose euphoric effects seem to be frequently accompanied by ten'Or. 16 It is mostly the drug writings to which Deleuze and Guattari refer, but the singularity of Michaux's experience begs for caution in any interpretation of the results of his experiments. The epigraph to Michaux's third drug-themed collection reads: 'Drugs bore us with their paradises. Let them give us a little knowledge instead. This is not a century for paradise.' In their discussion of Michaux in A 1"htJttsand Plateaus, ~Ieuze and Guattari suggest that Michaux successfully distinguished drug visions from hallucinations or delirium by isolating a properly 'molecular' type of perception, different in kind from the 'molar' type of perception (in which apperception synthesises a totality, under conceptual norms ofrecognition).17 Molecular perception, suggests Michaux, occurs on condition that the 'speed' of cognition and affection is modified. In what sense, one may ask, does thought have a 'speed'? And in what sense, further, do chemical and vegetable substances affect this 'speed'? In a scribbled fragment, Coleridge had already noted this capacity of drugs to alter the 'speed' of consciousness: . the tn.arotllous velocitj afThought & Image in certainfuU 1tances' (Coleridge 1957: 4.108). According to Deleuze and GuattMi, The MajM Ordeals of t1u Mmd and the Countless Minor On£s is the book in which Michaux takes furthest his 'analysis of speeds, molecular perceptions, and 'microphenomena' or 'micro-operations" (ATP 543, n. 70) .18 In T1uI FDId, De1euze makes dear that he sees Michaux as a follower of Leibniz, exploring the movement 'from waking to dream, and from conscious perception 1:0 minute perceptions . . . Reminiscences of Leibniz are frequent in Michaux: fog and giddiness, Lilliputian hallucinations. minute perceptions speeding over a tiny surface, spontaneity' (F 155, n. 20) ,19 In all these obscuringll of thought, Deleuzc conceives !.he object of apperception as imploding into partial durations and repetitions, the whole object thrown into shadow. For Deleuze, Michaux's great Leibnizian SJ~ panta is also host to the interior, 'inferior' and 'superior' durations uncovered by Bergson. He seems to believe that at some fundamental level, Leibnizianism and Bergsonism are compatible, and he presents Michaux as !.he psychic

184

Dekw:.e and the Unconscious

explorer of this uncharted region, in pursuit of an ideal integration or a 'mastery of speeds' (Michaux 1956: 15~).'lO If thinking cannot 'grasp itself (Michaux 1966: 4), according to Michaux, that is not just because of the henneneutic circle, or because it cannot grasp iIB own conditions, but also because it is conditioned by minute operations of thought which are too nUnute, too slow or too quick for it to be able to apperceive. While our practi.cal consciousness ill attuned to a particular ~ with fixed thresholds, the world of lower microphenomena can be opened up under certain exceptional perceptual conditions, 'under the microscope of a desperate attention, when the mind - monstrously excited. for example, from the effect of large doses of mesc.a1ine, iill field of vision altered - sees its thought as particles appearing and disappearing at stupendous speeds'. The acceleration of single lines of thought, moreover, a.ppears to be paradoxically experienced at another level as a dowing down or suspension, insofar as the movement becomes 'absolute'. So, in a first moment, thought alters iill relative speed, tatehifJli up with movements which previously surpassed it, and of which it has been unconscious.!l The experience of the nightma.rish speeds of mescaline provokes Michaux to conclude that 'man is a slow being, who is possible only a result of fantastic speeds' (Michaux 1966: 23). But in a second moment, this Jlpeed of thought can conversely be described as a 'slowing down', in the sense that hours, days. or even centuries appear to be lived in the space of a quarter of an hour. Coleridge and De Quincey both talked of passing cmtuM in obscure regions, before returning back to the demands of empirical reallty.22 But are Deleure and Guattari right to give the impression j:.hat Michaux detaches himself decisively from the traditions ofritual and religious drug use? He says that, in the West, we have 'forgotten the names' (i.e. the divine names), and that for those who lack gods there is only 'Pullulation and Time'.2! But Michaux nevertheless often himself explicitly submits his pharmacological voyage to esoteric ends.:l4 Deleuze's repeated returns to the image of the 'witch's flight' to describe Michaux's trajectory can - why not? - be given a literal interpretation: 'To think is to follow the witch's flighL Take Michaux's plane of immanence, for example, with its infinite, wild movemenill and speeds' (WP 41). In one writing, Michaux ingenuously replicates the actual conditions for a witch'5 alpine voyage.2S Perhaps Michaux's work, therefore, is not itBelf the fundamental reference for Deleuze and Guattari's analysis of drugs and the unconscious. Throughout this book, the esoteric theories of Leibniz, Schelling. Wronski. Malfatti and Fechner (not to mention those of Bergson andJung) have been shown to be behind some of Deleuze's more obscure formulations about the unconscious and individuarion. It is in his theories about the unconscious that Deleuze shows himself to be allied to the occult, hennetic tradition of pantheistic thought. As it happens, one also finds explicit reference to a 'direct approach to the Unconscious' through the use of drugs in the French occult tradition. For instance, in the central work of late French occultism, Stanislas de Guaita's 17u Temple of Satan, we hear that 'hashish ... allOWl'l the Unconscious to manifest itself to an astonished con-

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sciOWlness - and the soul. contemplating itself in its own mirror, reveals itself positively to itself' (Guai12 1891: 370). Guaita, who comidered himself a <magician' rather than a 'sorcerer'. considered that the magician had to learn the techniques of the sorcerer for his own knowledge and protection, Drugs, Guaita reponed, were one of the main weapons in the sorcerer's arsenal, (As mentioned in Chapter 4, he died of a morphine overdose at the age of thirty-8ix). Other prominent Western occulti.slll offer variations on the same theme (Crowley 1908; Regardie 1968; Grant 1972). Drugs and sorcery have gone hand in hand throughout history; the ethnobotanist Christian Ritseh infonns us that 'many magicians copsider plants the primary instrumenlll of magic' (Ritseh 1992: 17), The persistence and even growth of occultism in the period of modernity suggests that there is something wrong with the idea that drugs are a contemporary pathology only insofar as we lack a 'set and setting' for their use (as the participants in the rites of Eleusis had, for instance. according to Wasson's thesis), There have been a surfeit of secret societies (both within the capitalist and working classes) at work even throughout the twentieth century (the Nazis saw fit to assassinate the leader of the Martinists in France). The secret society, founded in a complicity between members, provides the social fonn for the extension of the somnambulist unconscioWl beyond the asymmetrical relationship involved in therapy, through the adoption oftheurgic ritual,2li Deleuze follows Kierkegaard in understanding humour as the pursuit of a questionable idea to its consequences, regardless of opprobrium.27 The idea of a 'pharmacoanalytic' approach to the uncomciOWl will strike many aJi' at least dubiow, if not direcdy laughable. But one can equally take succour from the fact that there is evidence that notjwt Freud, butJung as well, had more than a casual involvement with this very line of research. Jung's first reflections on the meaning of 'alchemy' in his commentary on The StJi:ret of tlu! Golden Flower were possibly premised on introSpective imaginative techniques conditioned by drug-use (d. CW 18: 751). It would be a mistake tn treat this as a marginal, or slighdy grubby. aspect of the modem theory of the unconscious. Deleuze and Guattari state that drugs give US immanent access tn the unconsciow, so if both Freud and Jung used drugs for similar purposes, then we would be looking at a complete upheaval of our established ways of understanding the unconscious. Pursuing this line of enquiry might also shed. new light on the great paradox of how the founders of psvchoanalysis and analytical psychology constru.eted their theories. A reflexive par.ldox has often been noted in the founding of psychoanalysis. 1fans£erence is supposed to be intrinsic to psychoanalysis, and yet Freud somehow managed to analyse himself. JungWlU the first tn advocate that every analyst themselves be analysed, but his own development of his theories only carne through a periOd of withdrawal and a 'confrontation with the unCOnsciOWl', In his writings on alchemy,Jung became more and more implicit about the role of drugs in exploring the proceS8 of individuation, It would appear that. he was advilled by his closest collaborators that his explorations of alchemy would bring the statWl of 'analyti-

186

Del.euz.t and the Unconsciow

cal psychology' into disrepute. Instead, it has been left to the occult lrUlition to discuss this aspect ofJungianism more or less openly.

The Somniacal Imagination In 'To Have Done with Judgement' itself, Deleuze gives two examples of 5MI'LmeiI:. intoxication and insomnia. On the face of it, these are two very different states. The tonures of the insomnia£ seem to be far removed from the ecstasies of the intoxicated person; moreover, i7lSOmnia is surely a negative teon, and really means the inability to physically sleep (hence indormio. would be a more appropriate' teon). What could there possibly be in common between intoxication and insomnia? Things become more mysterious when we tum hack to Difference and RepetitWn. and recall Deleuze's powerful and haunting remark about nightmares. 'A nightmare is perhaps a psychic dynamism that could be sustained neither awake ?UIf" even in dreams, but only in profound sleep, in a dreamless sleep' (DR 118). In Di.fJermt;e and Ri!petil.ion, sleep without dream seems to be equivalent to the sleep of nightmares. In the nightmare, Deleuze explains, the sleeping subject is comparable to the embryo in the egg, being twisted and tUIlled about, always on the verge of being tom apart. The nightmare takes us beyond the dream-image, as nightmare-images carry an intense Yisc.eral affect. No longer seen through the gJ.ass of the dream, they threaten the mind physically from within. The subject of the nightmare feels that they will be destroyed unless they wake up immediately and reUlm to the actual body. But the body is paralysed, ~d the doorway into the present is locked, and so, in flight from the nightmare, the subject has to struggle to get back. into the body. But this makes the reference to insomnia more perplexing, not less. For surely the state of insomnia is the exact mirror image of the state of nightmare. The insonmiac wants to escape from actuality and plunge insensate into virmality, but the virtual body refuses him entry. The insomniac and the subject of a nightmare are both banging in a frenzy on the same door, from opposite sides. The somniacal nightmare is thus opposed to the in-wmniac incapacity to sleep. DeleU2e makes some strange literary references here, though, Maurice Blanchot says that only insomnia is 'adequate to the night'. But Kafka writes of sending his 'dothed body' across space to the country, while he remains insomniac in bed. Kafka's nighljourney almost sounds like a witch's flight.. 'The insomnia£ can remain motionless, whereas the dream has taken the real movement upon itselr (CC 130). Insomnia therefore is not just indr.lrmio., but can itself take up dream-consciousness and deploy it in a new way, Insomnia, rather than a sleep without dream, would seem to be a dream without sleep. . The . . . dream has become the gtuJrdwllt of insomnia' (130). Insomnia is an insib!p, or an msomnia (in the sense of 'enjoyment'), in that it. like the nightmare, liberates somniacal visionings from their encasement in the dream. Sommeil rraverses the night and inhabits it with a frightening clarity which is no longer day. but the lightning-Flash rl'.&l.airl. says Dcleuze.

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Insomnia lacks the raw visionary power of the nightmare, while the nightmare lacks the vigilarlce, the ghosdy agency, retained by insomnia. But perhaps there is a state in whicb somniation appears in a pure form, with ilB visions finally divested of passivity and lability. Here Deleuze retur'rul to intoxication, which appeared at first to be his main topic, before the detour into the phenomena of nightmare and insomnia. He now says iliat the peyote rites described by Artaud and ilie songs of the Menearl forest described by Lawrence 'are not dreams. but states of intoxication iivrnse] or sommar. We have to go to Mexico to discover the meaning of sommllil, where the dream now really does 'take the real mov~ment upon itself'. It is the peyote rite. and Michaux's Western rendering of it, which takes the dream OUl of sleep and into somniation. 'The dreamless somniation in which one nonetheless does not fall asleep, this insomnia nonetheless sweeps the dream along as far as the insomnia extends - such is the state of Dionvsian intoxication, its way of escapingjudgment' (130). Although Deleuze refers to Blanchot's text on the night, Lawrence's chapter on 'Sleep and Dreams' seems more relevant. 'We have to be very wary of giving way to dreams', because the dream is an a ~ proce$S and is therefore impolled to the spontaneous forces of mental Jjfe; 'that which is lovely to the automatic process is hateful to the spontaneous soul' (Lawrence 1923: 170, 169). H one dreams of incest, that is because incest is a pure formula of repetition: the repetition of the child's love for the m'other on the 'upper plane' in a sexual love on the 'lower plane'. 'The dream-proce$S loves its own automatism' and has a tendency to 'force everything to an automatic-logical conclusion in the psyche'. This is consistent with the 8ergsonian model of dream as repetition. but brings out the sterility of the repetition to which the dream tends. Lawrence even suggests that the mind changes its activity at night-time. ceding its attention to life and submerging itself in a consciousness of the past. At night, the mind 'collects the results of the spent day into consciousness, lays down the honey of quiet thought, or the bitter-sweet honey of the gathered flower. It is the consciousness of that which is past. Evening is our time to read history and tragedy and romance - all of which are the utterance of that which is past. that which is finished, is concluded: either sweetly concluded. or bitterly' (Lawrence 1923: 172). However, dream. reverie, history and romance are srill not, in Deleuze's words, 'adequate to the night'. There are nocturnal activitie:s different in kind from nocnrrnal passivity or diurnal activity; Evening is the time also for revelry, for drink, for passion. Alcohol enters the blood and acts as the sun's rays act.. It inflames into life, it liberates into energy and consciousness ... That life of the day which we have not lived. by means of sun-born alcohol we can now flare into sensation. consciousness, energy and passion, and live it out. It is a liberation from the laws of idealism, a release from ilie resuicrion of control and fear. It is the blood bursting into consciousness. [Thus the] active mind-consciousness of the night is a form of retrospection, or else it is a form of impulsive exclamation.

188

Deleu::.e and the UncMUCWus

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IDtroduetioa By the time Deleuze finally comes around to affirming a Freudian concept (the notion of the death instinct in CtJUlnm aYlll CfllllltJ. a 1967 interpretadon of 1I'Ia3OChiJm), it is impossible not to detect the Delew:ian 'humour' with which it Is treated. Freud's death instinct, we are told, is a tranllCendenlal concept, a condition of temporal synth~s (M 1l~1!i). 'There iuJwayu "one dies" more profound than "I die", and it is not only the gods who die endlellSly and in a variety of ways; as though there appeared worldi in which the individual was no longer imprisoned within the pel'lOnal fonn of the 1 and the ego, nor the singular imprisoned within lhe limits of Ihe individual' (DR. 113). Whatever this means, it has nothing to do with Freud or psych~.The use of the Lacanian concept of tile 'phallus' in lJif.f-na4fUl~1sthe same: riling a famous passage lLbout the phallus from Lacan's SmiMT on the PurloifllJd lAt.et-, Deleuze then says 'the plWing present which bears i~1f away has never been better opposed to the pure past which perpetually differs from itBelf and whose universal mobility and universal ubiquity cause the present to pass' (DR. 102). Behind 'the Laan.ian veiled form is Bergsonian paramnesia. WIlen their doctrines are affirmed by Deleuze. Freud and Lacan always serve as muks for other forces. 2 Deleuze', approach to the problem will involve attention [0 special kindi of consclOUln~ which are 'unconscious' only in the reslrictled sense that they are unconsD()WI til representational thought.lnlllinct is held [0 involve a peculiar type of consciowmesa, as does masochiml or psychosis. Deleuze streDeli that these tendencies involve liwd . Timas. He is opposed to the view of many contemponu"f theorists (from the Frankfurt School to Hardt and Negri) that all subjective experience is always already penelr.lted by either representation or the biopolitical imprint of late capitalism (or, at worst. by both of these). Much of Deleuze's most creative thought is foclJled on articulating a (Xl"itive account of the autonomous processes of the unconscious. Instincts and intuitions, experiences of love, intoxication. esoteric experiences, breakdOW1lB, dreams and nightmares all involve 'dramatimtions' which are relatively independent of our everyday representational activity, and involve wha.t Deleuze and jung both call 'inw. vidwlIion'. The lurking political claim here iJ that to act as if pt'OCClllleli of individuation do not exist (as the aforementioned thinkers often do) is self-defealing, and robs the agenl of the strength [0 throw the dice in other domains. To recapture for theory and practice the positivity common to procesaes of individuation might even require making some strange alliances with more 'esoteric' traditions of thought (which were not always a.uociated with the right, especially in France). Deleuze cenainly does not appear [0 have been afraid to make this move. 3 cr. M 16. In an intel'View just after the publication of A ~ . Deleuze explained that 'we didn't think for a minute of writing a madman '/I book, but we did write a boot in which you no longer know who is speaking: there is no buis for knowing whether it's a doctor, a patient, or some present, palt, or future madman speaking' (01219). With that book. Deleuze and Guatlllri probably achie'Vt'd their dubious aim. On 'humour' in Deleuze. see 'Humour, Irony and the Law' in M 81-90.

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Chapter I: The Pathologies French psychology was highly active at this time; other noted psychologists cited by Bergson indude Theodule Ribot (1839-1916) and. Alfred Binet (1857-1911). In 1935 Jung wrote that 'My own coune of development was influenced. primarily by the French school and later by Wundt's psychology. Later, in 1906,1 made contact with Freud, only to part company with him in 191iJ. after seven years of collaboration, owing to diHerences of sclentitic opinion. It was chiefly oonsideratioM of principle that brought about the separation, above all the recognition that psychopathology can never be based exclusively on the psychology of psychic disease, which would restricc it to the pathological, but must include normal psychology and the full rangt of the psyche' (CW 18: 773-4). In his article 'From Somnambulism to the Archetypes: The French Roots ofJung's Split with Freud',John Haule notes thatJung's 'French heritage is almost suppressed as some kind of secret' (Haule 1984: 242). The explicit objection was that Bergson had omitted the most fundamental aspect of human temporality: our consciousness that we will die, at some indeterminate date in the future. It was held that Bergsonism was unable 10 recognize the phenomena of al'llCitty that arises from one's relationship with one's d(':3th, and that colours. through dread or anticipation, the whole of our experience of time. Heidegger takes BergllOn to be no more than the latest heir to a very traditional concept of rime, which was inaugurated by Aristode. For Aristotle, time is 'the number of movement': it provides the quantitative backdrop by which the successive movements of ph)'5ical bodies are measured; Bergson does nOl deviate: from that model (Heidegger 1927: 501), H Aristol1e treats the Auman experience of time iI5 a special case, then it is only withm a framework that is appropriate for aU living bodies. The internal changes of organic bodies (as distinct from their external, spadal movements) involve a development from potentiality to a state of folfiDed actuality. Heidegger argues that both of these concepdons of time (ph}'lical and developmental) ace inappropriate for analysing human temporality. At its ron:. human te:mpor.ality is related to death: my experience of past, present and future is ultimately articulated. in relation to my death (which will happen at some indeterminate furure date), and I can either flee from that fact, or consciowJy take it on. For Heidegger, BergllOn covers over the relation of time to finilUde, and thus ends up affinning a notion of time as an abstract Heraclitt:an flux of duration.The existentialist critique of Bergson WlIlI echoed. by the Marxist aadition. For Luk.lics, Bergsonism was nothing but a 'recourse to the sut;MeCbye immediacy of apprehension, grow(n] into a philosophy based. on radicaUy irrationalist intuition' (Lukacs 1962: 26). The accusation that Bergsonism is just a philosophy of 'immediate intuition' still lingers today; il is false, as Deleuze shows. Walter Benjamin, on the other hand. appeared to have read 8etgson in detail, in oonjunction with his studies of Proust Like Heidegger, Benjamin also point! out the apparent suppression of death in Bergson, although Benjamin's problem with this is not that lkrgson covers over a fundamental existenlial ItUth about the individual's relation to death, but that he leaves himself without any way of undersGl.llding the impommCt: of tradition, whose precariousness is due 10 the ever-present po!Iiibility of destruction and forgetting, 'The fact that death is eliminated from Bergson's tlmit isolates it effectively from a historical (as as prehistorical order) onier •.. The "unStfrom which d(':3th has been eliminated has the Il'Iist:rabie endlessness of a semft' (Benjamin 1939: 185). Thus, the ol!jection that Bergson failed to acknowledgt the role of finiuuu: in human temporality is cormnon 10 both Benjamin and Hei.degger. Deleuze's use of the concq>t of intensity pbys on each of the foUowing thrtt registen;: (1) the intension of a concept, its essential meanirig; (2) intensive tnagnitudca, such as temperatures and tonal relations; and (3) sensible excitation (inten&e feelings). For Deleuzc's most extended discu.uion of intensity, see chapter 5 of Dlf.fenmu mul RepditUm. A15 Bergson says of evolutionary change. 'each new piece really requires ... a complete

wen

4

5

6

7

8

9

Notes on SQUrcts isIS citro by

ll. primarily by contact with ation,owing inciple thaI

,thalogy can .dd restrict it range of Wl' hetypes: The

'ncb heritage \lal aspeCt of lioau~in

nenotnena of .}UB, through

.es Betgson to 'h was inaugu· ides the quanlrem~

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newark thiu; is es (as distinct >tentWitv to a "liOllS of time lporality. At its eot and future .me indetermi· ,it on, For Hei·

h up affirming alist critique of !J nothing but a lilosophy based It 8etg80nism ~ Delcuze shows. :l detilil, in con· points out the n with this is not vidual's relation e importance of de!itruclion and 1£es it effectively om which death <min 1939: 185). liwde in human

g three registers: gttitudes. such as Sf: feelings). For and Repdi-

r-e

ell ••.

a complete

191

recasting of the whole' (Bergson 1896: 169). Bergson contends that dod.-Iime does not really measure time, but rather imposes a type of measurement that is more suited to space, to extension, onto time:. We can measure the data of our experience 'extensively', so that we divide wngs into their separate poaiUOflll, and then measure their distance from each other in cemimeues, mette., miles from each other. If we divide one of these extensive quanalies. the units that have been divided still remain me same. If we: divide a football pitch in half. it doesn't chtJ,. tM nalu_ of rbe: two halvC$. If we increase a space, we simply add more space to it. Spatial extension is thus homogenous, and change in .spatial extension can be termed mere'difference of degree' , in that the nature of the space divided or added never changes. But duration does involve changes in nature, or 'd.ifIerences in kind' (see B 37-43). 7 Even though Bergson savs that 'every sensation is altered bv repetition' and that 'the same feding, by the mere fact of being repeared, is a new feeling' (Bergson 1889: 131, 200), this would seem to only reallv hold for I1nt repetitions, not every subsequent repetition of a sensation. The threshold nature of duranoll would come out more dearlF in the case of sensations that had been repeaLed a number of times. 13 In fact, the account in Cinema 2 is probably Deleuze's most accessible and complete, and ir helps clarify obscure points in his earlier illl:erpretations in ~tmUmand Differ·

6

muand~

9 These two forms of memory should not be confused (Bergson, 79). First, take the leanring of a lesson: When Ileam a poem, I aLtempt to learn it by hean. When it is learnt, I can repeat it as a whole, without thinking of the d.iM:rete times during which I learnt it. But now jm't this more 1ik.e a habit man a memory? The 'memory' of the poem is not lillked wim any past event, and is more truly 'a part of my present, ex.acdy like my habit of walking or of writing. It is lived and acted, rarber than represented' (81). Habits are nothing more thana 'series ofmechanisrns, wound up and ready, with reactions to external stimuli ever more numerous and more varied and answers ready prepared to an ever growing number of possible solicitations'. But there is another type of memory. The memory of tJ1dI, successive reading, on the contrary 'has 9W'/It of the IllaJ'b of a habit' (80), Each reading of the poem is a definite, separate event. My English teaCher w.u wearing a cordomy suit one day, and the next week she read the poem with a cold. 'It is like an event in my life; its essence is to bear a date, and consequently, to be unable to occur again , .. ThQugh my effort to recall thii image becomes more and more easy as I repeat it, the image, regarded in itself, was necessari1y at the outset what it always will be' (SO}. This kind of memory involves us 'remounting the dope of our past'. In other words, this is true memory. or memory proper, ralher than 'habit-memory', which is ullimately analysable into habit. Habitual consciousness 'no longer ~ the past to US, it ads it; and if it stitt deserves the name of memory, it is not because it COIl!leTYeS bygone images, but because it prolongs their useful effect into the present moment' (82). But these are two totally dilferent processes, The first process, learning a lesson, 3& a habitual action, can be cl:wed as a species of adapwion. A being which did nothing but fulfil its biologic.a1 instincts would require nothing more than 'habit-memory' in orner to fine-tune its instinetual ~. 10 The 'reality of the past' can be explained by appeating to a 'causal' or 'direct' lheory of memory, loch as that advanced by C. B. Martin and Max Dcuueher in their influential 1966 paper 'Remembering', In a renewed effort 10 undennine me nolion that memories are simply weak representations, me authors attempt to prc&enl the neter sary conditions of a propel' case of remembering. Wirhout acknowledging Bergson's analysis, they confirm his distinction between habit-mcmory and memory proper, but they point 10 a third problematic case, 'remembering tllDl. 'He remembers how to swim' is different from 'He remembers going swimming', which is different in l:I.Im from 'He remembers that he went swimming'. Thev argue thai. f'CfDembering in the

192

Notes un SOUTCl'.!

!lecond seme must be t.a.ken as causal: 'a pel'llOn can be said to remember something happening or, in general, remember I16mething direcdy, only if he has observed or experienced it' (Martin and Deullld1er 1966: 168). But surely the problem of the reliability of memory, as psychoanalysis shows, ariset out of OUT inability to distinguish be~n what are real memories and what are fantuies, or on the other hand, what merely appropriatiOrL'l of other's reports into my own narrative of my life. An analysis of the third case, 'remembering IMJ, helps to bring out the notion that the causal criterion is a necessary condition for memory proper. 'Remembering that' can be used in two IIeDJleS: one may remember thatJulius Caesar invaded Britain without ha'iing been present at the event itllelf; a1temalively one may remember that one had an English le&ll6n, even though one remembers nothing about it. The fonner type of 'remembering mat' involves no causal reference, but the latter rype, even though itlacb detail, conforms to the criteria for remembering in lleCond senile (or memory proper) in that it involves some fragment of diTIld memory. Thus Martin's and Deutscher', point is that if memory proper exists, it occurs through the operative effect of a past experience. A condition of memory proper is that trlJr.Gof past events continue to have effects in the mind. In 'Persons and their Pasts', Sydney Shoemaker t.ak.e1l up Martin's and DeuliCher's initial proposition that memory has a 'prmous awareness condition': he says that 'a c1aim to remember a past event implies, not merely that the rememberer' experienced an event, but that his pl"etent is in some way due to, that it came abom iIetlJuw of, a cognitive and sensory lICite the rememberer had at the lime he experienced the event. , .. It is part of the previous awareneas condition for memory that a veridical memory must not only correspond to. but must abo stand in an appropriue taWIJt rt:lationship to, a past cognitive and selUOry state of the rememberer (Shoemaker 1970: 272). There is perllapa a senile in which Bergson and Dcleuze share something with proponents of a causal theory of memory. But it is quite hard to isolate this sense. The fact that pre'Yious events hmJt o.cttuIJly MfJpenIItl certainly may be said to give them a 'realil)". insofar as in principle they now pennanendy have potential '00 exert influence over sublequent evenb (even though, in themllelves, their reatiq is now virtual). However, Ma.nin and DeulJicher conclude their di8cussion by ~ting rhat this causal power of memory-traces must be neurological. which is obviously not the condysion that Bergson would want to draw. Furthermore, for both Bergson and Delwze, the operative dIect of the past is not 'causal' in any linear IIeftle. As has been sugge5ted, their model is not causal at all, but is dose to the Leibnizian model of actualization, The primacy De\euze give!! to the notion of temporal I)'Ilthcsis is also relevant to mis problem. II In a footnote to the paIIlagc where Deleuze cla.ims that 'pure memory has only an ontological significance'. Deleuze refers to two texts by Jean Hyppolite which are said to al13clt 'psychologistic' interpretations of Ma/J4r tmd Memory. But in these texts, Hyppolite does not defend a substantially ontological 'iiew of pure memory, but in mct what can only be called a transcendental interpretation (or at leaS[ a 'p08t-Kantian' interpretation, as Hyppolite is ob'iiousiy ultimately a Hegelian mther than a Kantian). Hyppolite says ''Memory is not merely the mechanical reproducdon of the past, but sense' (Hyppolite 1949b: 1(7). If pure memory is ontological, then, it is so in a very specific, post-Kandan sense. In Deleuze's important re'iiew of Hyppolite from 1954, be noles that 'Being, ac.oording to Hyppolitt:, is not l!SUl'IU, but 1inUI (DeleuT.!! 1954: 193); Dcleuze goes on to say that 'FoUowing Hyppolite, we recognise that philosophy, if it has a meaning, can only be an ontology and an ontology of sense'. What, then, i.B 'senile'? The simplest definidon is to be found in Deleuze's 1978 own Kant IcclUres, where he .!I3ys that for Kant, 'there is no longer an essence behind appearance, there is rather a sense or non-.ense of what appears (First seminar, p. 5). This signifies 'a radically new atmOflphere of thought, to the point where I can say that in this respect we are all Kandans'. After Kant, we no longer look for a substantia.l essence behind appearances,

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but take a different approach: we say 'something appears, tel1 me what it signifies or, and tbiJ amounts to the same thing, ten me what its condition is' (ibid.). Thus ifHyppolite atlacb pllyChoiogislic interprelatioJIJI of Bergson, he does 10 from a post-Kantian idealist perapective. rather than a subatandal-ontological one. For Hyppolite. Hegel is the only philosopher who anives at a consistent, poIlt-Kantian 'ontology of sense' and thus elirninates aU anthropological, merely empirical coordinates from phllOllophy. In the other essay to which Delcuze refers 'Du Betglonisme Ii I'emrentialiJme', Hyppolite implies that the taet that 'Bergson defines philolOphy in this fonnula: "philOllOphy must be an eJl'on to transcend the human condition'" (Hyppolite 1949a: 458) ma.kes him closer to this Hegelian ideal than his existentialist heirs, who remain caught in merely andlropological claims. All tbiJ is to.say that Deleuu', reference to Hyppolitc mppom the transcendental interpretation of Deleur.e's 8ergsonism. For further evidence of Delcuze's fundatnental Kanlianism, ICC my 'The Vertigo of Philosophy: Deleuze and the Problem oflmmanencc' (Krrslak.e 20(2). 1~ The idea of the integral preservation of the past is dearly bound up with the pervasive spiritualism that gripped Paris during this period. Janet, whose father Wllli a spiritualist philosopher, wrote that 'everything that has existed sti1I exUlll and endlll't':1l in a place which we do not understand, to which we cannot go' (cited in Ellenberger 1970: MS). He confeflsed: 'I am not absolutely certain that the past is dead and gone, and I have a weak spot {or WeUa' novel TAA Tirrte MadUru:. A day will come when man will know how to walk in the past in the same way as he now travels through the air. One day he will be able to ma.kc voyages in the past and will search in the past for eventll which have disappeared and for people who have died, in order to bring them bad into the present' (Janet 192~: 17). With the invention of a 'paleoscopc', marveUous advenwres in time will be possible which exceed the tales ofJules Vente, not to menlion the impoverished imaginations of the ~ of the day (d. Janet 1928: 491; on the paleoscope, .see the other references in Ellenberger 191(l: 555). Janet concluded a series of lectures at dle Universily of London with the expectation that one day, man might make the same kind of progress in time as he has done in space rhrough the conquett of the natural world (Janet 1920: 164). 13 'Human reality by which lack appears in the world must itself be a lad. For 1acll. can come into being only through lack; the in-itself cannot be the occasion of lack in the in-i.tself. In other words, in orner for being to be lacking or lacked, it is necessary that a being make itllelf its own lack; only a being which lackJ can IJW'PlI88 toward the lack' (Sartre 1945: 87).

14 There are neuroscientific hypotheses that can be interpreted in dle light of BetglOn'''' governing thenry. Bergson's theory of the two 'jets' of time might be biken to be incarnated in two separate Ilet5 of neurons, evolving in tension with each other. The cerebral mechanisms dlat instantiate the preservation of dle past for the future would have to be relatively in&uIated from the attentional and perceptual prtlCe!llleS, The neuroscienlist Jonathan WJnIOn suggests that infonnation essential to the llW'Viwl of a species is gathered during the day it later reprocessed into memory during REM sleep (WJnIOn 1990: 42). Dreams, lIlI Sreven& and Price put it, •could be dle means by which animals update their strategies for surviwl by reev:aluating current experience in the light of strategies funned and tested in the past. This is done when the animal is asleep as it is only during sleep that the brain is free of its outer preoccupations and able to perfonn I:hilI vital activity' (Stevens and Price 2000: 221). There is a common electro-encephalk rhythm (theta) to dreams and 00 behaviour related to the surviwl of mammals, so dreams might be respon&ible for preserving memories relevant lO the latter. Thus there could be a diurnal cycle of mnemonic preservation which is proceessed independently of present-orien~dadaptive behaviour. Winson concludes that there is an unconscious, and dreams are indeed the 'royal road' 00 its understanding. However, the charncteristia of the unconscious and associated processes of

194

NDMsonSou~

functioning are very different than Freud thought. Rather than being a cauldron of untamed passions and destructive wishes, I propose that the uncomciollS is a cohesive, continually active menwstrucwre that takes nore of life's experiences and reacts accordingly to iUl own scheme of interpretation. Dreams are not disguised as 3. co~uence of repression, Their unus.ua1 character is a result of the complex 35IlOcialions that are culled from memory. (48) 15 Deleuze writes that pure memories are 'like Leibnizian possibles ... lry[ing] to become embodied, cltcrt[ing] pressure to be admitted, 10 that a full scale repression [n-.foo/eIli8nt] originating in the preaent and an "attention to life are necessary to wud off w;elell or dangerous. recollections' (B 72); although at first sight this loou like a dynamk account of repression, this impression is mWeading, Leibniz does sometimes say such things as 'everything possible demands that it should exist' (cited in Russell 1900: 296; Philos&Phischt SchrijUn, ed. Gerhardt VII. 194). But his argument is ontological. First, it is based on the claim that existence is nQt a 'perfection' or 'auribute'. as that would 'add something new CO things'. So there mll$l be an '4SSImhae~'.a demand of essence rnilhin essence to exist. But thi.s claim, by itself, can onlv hold up within pre-Kanaan rationalism. In effect, Kant pushes Leibniz's point further in tW critique of the Ontological Argument: if existence would add something new to essence, that means that existence cannot be attributed to essence 4t all, whether as propertY or as 'tendency', Hence existence is IIOmething else altogether; you can onlv say something exists if you can have a possible inNltion of it But Leibniz also says that 'the possible demands existence ... in proportion to iUl possibility or according to the degree of im essence' (ibid.), 16 Deleuu's reference to JItlml JlWfIImtalUltJ is to Leibniz. who also claimed that 'body 'lacks memory', and makes a further step rowaf'ds the revolutioruuy, modem idea that the funcOQft of the mind iA to synthesize elements across time. In an early disc.ussion. he wril.e$: No conal:US without motion lasts longer than a moment except in minds. For what it conatlJ£ in a moment is the motion of a body in time. This opens the door to the troe distinction between body and mind, which no one has explained heretofore. For every body is a momentary mind, or one lacking recollection, because it does not retain its own conams and the other contrary one together for longer than a moment ... Hence body lack!! memory; it lackll the perception of iUl own actions and passions; it lack!! thought. (Loemker 141; G W, 230) All the reference to amatu.s indicates. Lcibniz is concerned with desire here. In the ellipsis, he writes 'for two things are necessary for ~ ~rt or pain - action and reaction, oppo5ition and then /wmMnJ - and there is no scnJation without them'. 17 Deleuze presents this argument a number of t:ime6 across the whole range ofhis early writings, but that in most of them he gives somewhat different acoounUi of it. In lVl4tudte art.tlPki./o.soplrJ, for inilan<:e, he does not even mention that it is an argument from Bergson, silently passing it off as Niet:1Xhe's; we wiD .see in a. tnoment that he also adds two other important premise.s to the argument which cast the Bergsonian argument in a different light. The nearest Deleuze gets to J.\erp>n's ac::1Ua1 argument is hU citation of the previOUII passage in a footnote ro ~ and the accompanying claim that 'if [the pasd were not constituted immediately, neither could it be reconsdwted on the basis of an ulterior pfe$(')nt' (859). However, even there he neglects to mention the specific Bergsonian arguments quoted above for the impossibility of fixing the past after it has passed. Deleuze's first 1956 article on Bergson ('Bergson, 1859-1941') also has the same Cannulation: d. DI !9. 8ut strangely. Dc-leuze', second HI56 article ('Bergson's Concept of Difference') omits the explanation altogether. as it opts for a different argumentative srraregy for defending Bergson's theory. Instead. of starting with duration, heterogeneity and memGry. and then proceeding to Bergson's biology (as ~ does), it starts with a quasi-biological account of 'the vinual' and moves

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195

from then'! to memory. So when we get to the part on memory, instead we get this: 'Pure memory is virtual became it would be absurd to seek the mark or the past in something actual and already realiJled; a memorv is not a representation or something, it represents nothing, it is', and then 'It does nor have co wait for perception co diJlappear, ir is not subsequent to perception' (01 44/55). Deleuze's strategy in this latter article puts an inordinate amount of weight on Bergson's theory of instinct. The versions in Proust and SigtIs (PS 57-8) and Differr:nu and RtpItilWn. itself are also weak as they do not make the point about l'lJtOnstiwtion. There, Deleuze's version of Bergson's argument instead looks as if it is relying on the claim that 'if a new present were required for the past t£I be constitutro as past, then the (ormerpresent would never pass and the new one never amve' (DR 81). We get uimilarsort ordaim in Proust andSp: 'Hthe same moment did not coexist with itself as present arid past, it would never pass, a new present would never come to replace this one' (PS 58). 1 am afraid I cannot find any meaning in these claims as explanations. As explanations, they seem to appeal to a crude 'physics' of time which it is impossible to evaluate. At best they seem to function as assertion.; which means that the explanation must be found eJsewhere. Tht: central explanation seems to me to be this: the past must be oontemporaneow with the present li«4we the conrent of each past cannot be delimited immediarely af~r it has passed, and mwt both remain open to reinterptttation as well as continuing co be w.u JlUL But the con8O:Iuence of taking this interprelation is that it would seem that 8eIgson's model of the consDwDon of the past really involves the cOIUititution of the past as what wi1l.lu:ve bem. the past as future anterior. There are some indications that Deleu1C thinks chat this is where the main weight of the argument lies. In hiuecond article on Bergson from 1956 ('Bergson and the Concept of Difference') he remarks that 'in a different way than Freud, !hough just as profound, Bergson saw that memory was a function of the fuwre, that memory and wiU were the same function, that only a being capable of memory c:ould tum away from itB past, free itself from the past, not repeat it, and do something new' (01 45/56). When DeleuU' concludes in &gsoni.m that 'in other words, each present goes back t£I itself as past' (8 59), this indicates mat he h.as a complex temporality in mind. 18 In the theoretical section of Stud.ies in H'jSIeria (1893>, the functional radonale for the need to distinguish perception from memory was first given by Breuer: 'The perceptual apparatus, including the sensory areas of the cortex, must be different from the organ which stores up and reproduces .sen~mprell!liOnllin the form of mnemic images. For the basic essential of the function of the perceptua.l apparatus is that its status qlUl ante should be capable of being resoored 'with the greatest possible rapidi\.)'; otherwise no proper further perception could take place. The tssential of memory, on the other hand, is that no Nch restoration should OCI':Ur but that every perception should create changes that are permanent It is impossible for one and the same organ to fulfil thelle two ronuadiccory conditions' (SE 2: 188, 1890.) However, whereas for Bergson the presel"Vlllion of the past requires something more than a neurollcientific explanation, Freud's early theory ofmemory is a theory of how physical events are ~ in nervous till8Ul!. 'A main characteristic or nervous tissue is memory: that is, quite generally, a capacity for being permanendy altered by single occurrences' (5£ I 299). 19 The Bergsonian temporality that structures the introVersion/extraversion distinction is already visible in Jung's breakthrough work, T1lIiIISfO'mllJtion.s and Sym/JoJs of tAe UbUIo, where he makes a division between 'two kinds of thinking'. 'Directed' thought, which .adjusts itself to actual conditions, where we ... imi tale the mccessi.on ofobjectively real things' is opposed 00 a 'non-directed', or 'merely a.wxiative thinking ... a dream or pM1IJ4s'y th.inIWI.g (CW Ii 18-20). Directed lhinking serves the practical orientation to the future: it 'creates innovations, adaptations, imitates reality and seeks to act upon it.', while phantasy thinking, on the contrary, turn.3 away Crom thU tendency, 'scts free subjective wishes, and ill, in regard to adapralion, whoOy unproductive'. Jung adds that

196

20 21

22 23

24

25

26

Notes on SOUtUS

whereas the material of the tint kind of thinking comes from movemenlS presently occuning in the actu.a.l world, 'the material of these though" [in the second kind of thinking] which nuns away from reality, can nawralJ.y be only the put with ill thoU&aIld memory-i.mages' (ibid.). The schema iJ thus highly reminiscent of Bergson's dualism between perception and memory in M4tII!r tmd~. The late Kant was preoccupied with I:lU8 problem of rebirth in his &Jigiim within tht

LimiU ofRlastm Almtt. In ilS early fonnulation in Nitb:sche rmdPhilowplrj, what Lacan <:aIled 'the Perspective of the LutJudgment' is lltiU at work. Eternal fel11m only manages to invest tAU moment to the fullest on condidon that it is on the rebound from the furthest limit of the future. Nicwche's idea of eternal return is an unstllble mix of atheism and theology (one might be tempted to argue that it is the point al which atheism and theology dialectically collapse into each other). Theology is not abient from a concept whOle intended dfect is to establWl how the great drifdng wastell ofa material univene deprived of anv teleological fuI6lment, any moment of redemption, might forever recombine in the llaIDe way in the infinite pusa.geway of time, d:lus opening them to 'vertical' totalization - or, contemplation sub !J1'tiIlIItmIUtJn.t On the 'Stoic' view of the eternal return, the moment aa:ainJ a kind of eternity by virtue of itll absolute, identical singularity: in the great cosmological circle revolving in infinite time, each panicul.ar combination iJl repeated infinitely many times. ~t this interpretation mi.IIscs out are 'the two themes mast profoundly linked to eternal return, that ofqualitative metamorphosis and thal of quantitative inequality' (DR 242). The willing agent of the eternal mum wills it only on condition of 'becoming an other'. The penpective of rhe Last Judgement must rherel'orc be problematized by the thought that 1 will inevil.llbly look. back on my resolution or act of will all partial, because 1 will have been ignorant of the future comequences of that resolution. The goal ofbeing able to say 'I willed it thus' about311y past action impliCll that the content of the 'thlli' will never at any futuI'r point budge retn>spectively. 'It will always have meant this': what 1 will today I will also condnuc EO will tomorrow - 41lS willI have done with half-willing and will integndly. But I:lU8 is ex.acdy what iJ excluded by Deleuze '.I Bergsonian theory of the past. The point of that was that on principle we never know until later what the concent or implications of any p~nt are. Hence integral willing is an illusion. Leibniz's relalionship with Hermetic lind myslical philosophy has been di.sawed in Allison Coudert, LMni:t and tht K.a1JIJaJDA (1995). Completed in J 705, but Leibniz withdrew it from publication foUowing Locke's death in 1704; it was first published in 1765. Take Thomu Reid's Bmvc Officer Paradox. As a boy, a brave officer had once been flogged for robbing an orchard. Later in life, he commilS a brave deed as 311 officer, 3lld at that point, remembers his juvenile crime and punishment. In advanced life, he is made a general, and remembers the brave deed, but has now forgotten the floging. On Locke's account, the boy is the same person as the brave officer, 3lld the general is the same penlOn as the brave officer, but the general is not the same person as the boy who was flogged ('Reid 1785: 114). Jolley's concluding sentence also sugge8tll a confusion, for whereas Locke's aiterion is that the ability to to11SCiow~remember put evenllJ guanmrees pel'llOnal idenlity, Leibniz claims that untOnSCious memoriCll should also be induded as m.arkcn of identity. As JoUey himself says, for Leibniz, 'at every moment in his history a. perrlOn is II1ICtJ'IISciouIy 'remembering' every previous Slllte'. But this actual uncotlllCious identity, if such emil. could not ICClI.red by means of personal, conscious identity and would depend on some future 'improvement' which would allow that we can integrate all prcvioUlly unconscious stlltell. Fechner, another of the great disciples of Leibni%, and th~ founder of a psvchophysia inseparable from the spiritual mccbanisms of the monadic soul, docs not

27

Notes on SOU1U5 PreJefltly ld kind of ;thowand 's dualism

~ ., v ~

wilki1ltM

~ ~

lpective of ~moment

:befuwre. ,logy (one ~ dialecti~ intended vedofanv ,ine in the

ollllizalion 'elUI1l,

me

riLy. in the

Jinati6n is wodJemes mddwof ri&h only nent must n myrese>ute COWIe-

ulany past .retronue to will siseJald:ly 111 Wall that nypresent

lSCUMed in :ke'sdeath

, ~

;G

+~

I i

hesitate to develop classifications endle&llly, from vertigo or diuiness to luminous life. In them he envisions the three ages of man, with an their poasibilities of regression and damnation, through which Fechner himself pIlIIleS as a monad, reduced to his dark room or his sombre depths, deli~red up to the digeative swarming of lilde per· ceptions, but also, expanding towareb the power of a resurrection. of an _enl towards an inteJUive light. Few monads fail to believe theD1llelves damned at cenain momentt of their existence. When their clear pcn:eptions are gradually m.tin· guiJhed, when they recede into a night, compared with which the Life of the lick seema singularly rich. But with freedom there comes a moment where a soul reconquen itself, and can lIAy to ibdf with the astonishment of a ronwltscenc:: my God, what did I do in an these yean? (F 93; tr.ms. modified) 27 Goethe, Napoleon, Luther 'still live among us, thinking and acting in us, as awakened creative individuals, more highly developed than at their death - each no longer restrained by the limitations of the body, but poured forth upon the world which in meir Lifetime they moulded' (Fechner 1886: !U). HCJWe'Vet', Fechner doeB nOl stop with this culluml immortality, but rather deduces another kind of spiritual ~ that he says is propel' to the third age of man. What might be left over at the end of rhe second age of human existence, when sensible intuidoll.8 ccue to be poaible? Even now, me more thoroughly all my senJCS lIl'e dosed to external things, the mo~ I withdraw into the gloaming of the outer world, the more aware and bright will be my memory life, and thinga long forgotten will come bad. to me. Death, on the omer bmd, doel nothing but extinguiab the lfenRI entirely and for aU time, so that aU pouibility of reviving them is also extinguished, No dosing of me eyes during our lifetime can be so profound, no awakening of memoriel so luminous as in death ... All the force which is dirided between the life of intuition [Aruchautmgtll!lllml and the life of memory [Erin~l in this world. becomes, in the next, the property of the life of memory only, and our present Life of memory owes itll weaknellll to the very filct that the life of intuition here below cJ.aimI the greater pan of the strength thai: is bestoWed upon us by the higher spirit. Complete remembrance of the former life will begin only when mat life lies entirely behind us, and all remembmnce during that lifetime is but a brief preview of what lies ahead. (Fechner 1851: Ill, 16; traJU. modified) In the Liitl.e.BooC, Fechner writes that any strivings of the human being to perform good actions which wiD never be rewarded in this life can only be made intelligible in the light of a 'p~sentiment' that every action will .somehow be recorded: The repenlance that arous.es in us an unfathomable distress for bad actions, even

once been an officer, ;:ed life, he eflogging.

pend is as the boy crilerion is: ity, Leibniz identity. Ali ~~

mcbexiats. Idonsome lilly uncon· . of a pay-

ll,doeanot

197

28

though they bring us no disadvantage here, rise from haunting presentiments [tJllnet'Idn.I ~) ofwhlll aU thi.s will bring to us in that world in which the fruit of our slightest and most hidden ac1ivity becomes a part of our troe self, Thia is the greatjustice ofcreation, that every one makes for himself the conditiolll of his future Life. Deeds will not be requited to the man through exterior rewards or puniahmentt; there is no heaven and no hell in the usual sense of the ChrUtian, the Jew, the heathen. into which the soul may enter after death •.. But after [the soul] has paIIIled through the great transition, death. it unfolds [~ itself according to the great unalterable law of namre upon earth. (Fechner 1856: M) In a chapter on 'The Grand Arcmum of Death' in his KIj 10 1M My.stlrilr, EIiphas Levi wrileS:

During embr?onic Life it ~med to [the embryo J thll1 the placenra was ita body, and it Wl1ll in fact itt special embryonic body, a body useless for anomer life, a body which had to be thrown aft'ti an undean thing at the moment of birth. The body of our human life is like a aecond envelope, uselellll for the third life. and for that reason we: throw iu aside at the momenl of our second birth, Human life c:ornpared to Heavenly Life is veritably an rmbryo. When our evil pauioJU till us, Nature m.iscar.

198

29

2

3

4

5 6

7

Notes on SDUfUS ries, and we are born before our time for eternity, which exposes us to that terrible diBsolution which StJohn calls the second death. Levi then says that 'according to the constant tradition of ecswics', the 'abortions of human life', which have a human form, but always lopped and imperfect, are prevented from rising to heaven by a 'moral wound' which they have contracted in the course of their life. 'These wounded souls are the larvae of the second formation of the embryo ... Frequently they auaeh themselves to vicious men and live upon their lives, as the embryo lives in its mother's womb. In these circumstances, they are able to take the most horrible fonus to represent the frenzied desires of those who nourish them, and it is these which appear under the 6gures of demons U) the wret.ched operators of the nameless works of black magic. These larvae fear the light, above all the light of the mind' (Uvi 1861: 202). We cpme ba£k to Deleuze's rel.ation to occultism in chapter 6. f have not been able to trace the term 'metaJchematism' in Leibniz; in me passage cited above, Leibniz uses the French word 'm.etammpfJDsI. Deleuze may be referring to the 'schemauc' imitations of God mentioned in 'The Monadology', # 83.

ChaptEr 2: 'l1le Wasp'. Sympathy for die CaterpiUar An English-language bibliography (Murphy 1996) preserves the detaih of Deleuze's first phase ofpublitMion, which include a preface to Johann Montereggio de M.alfato's Mat/u$i.s, or tht Anan:h., aM Hil:raKh'j ofKfll1UIltdge. an important book in the Ia.te nineteenth-centnI)' French occult reviwI, diseussed in cllapters 4 and 6 below. Deleu%e only makes a few references to Janet in hi. work, but they are important ones (cC. DR: 144; and C2: 51). It was the second of a series enrided T8Xle$ lit Doeumtnts PJu.lo.Joflh.iques, published by Hachette under the general editorship of Georgu Canguilhem. The latter had himself edited the first volume, &soifLl It T ~ (1952). I do not know whether Deleuze himself chose the exact combination of the concepts of instinct and institnDon for hili volume, but the former was already of interest to him in hiJJ Berpn and Hume studies, while the concept of imlillltion had also played an important role in the lauer. However, Ddeuze's :il5S(';rtion in the introduction to the volume that animals inhabit 'specific worlds' or 'milieus' probably contains an implicit reference to von UexkUJI. The only author in IJUtinas and InstitutitmJ who is in any way attached to the discipline of ethology is F. J. J. Buytendijk, who contributes two extracts. The first selection is entitJed 'Instinct and Organi&ation', on the relationship between anatomiWstIUcture. organization and instinctive action (1 Be I: # 24, PSJ€hologiuJe$ Animaux, 1920), and the second is on 'Instinctive life and Beauty', where Buytendijk suggests that beauty is a 'luxury' of organic nature, extending beyond the principle of sexual selection (# 46 from Us diffmnu:e.s essemiA/JL;f des jtJ/M.titm.f ~1Uques rJe l fJDmme lit • Lmimaux, 1930). In an early article, Lorenz criticises Buytendijk for entertaining a 'vitalist fantasy' about animal behaviour on a par with Jung's speculations (Lorenl 19!J9: 31). Buytendijlt was also heavily influenced by phenomenology. For a stimulating discussion of Deleu.ze's relation to UexkUll and ethology, see Ansell-Pearson 1999: 139-~Olt See Fletcher 1968 for a sympathetic survey of this group of think.en. The one passage from IfLltinds IJtul Institutions on the topic of 'Instinct and Reflex' is from Kurt Goldstein's TM Organism, and it is a critique rather than an endoTllement of the notion that reflexes can be isolated as independent entities, without regard for the wholeness of the organism (lBe f: 31). Again, Deleme's editorial policy shows itself to be profoundly out of line with mainstream developmenu in the theory of instincL In an informative interview, he AyS about this period, 'f know what. I was doing, where and how I lived during those years, hut I know it only ahstTacdv. rather as if someone else were rel.ating memories that I believe but don't really have. It's like a hole in my life, an eight-year hole ... There are catalepsies, or ~ of somnambulism (des tspeus de .\'()Ill_mbul£rmel over several yean, in mOlll. lives. Maybe it's in these boles that

r

mover ing-,as resear prohll

,I

jeaivtt years.

andu bulisti

8

9

10

11

Notes on Sources 'lat terrible

borrions ~f , prevented

e course'of he embryo j"es, as the to take the them, and !tOl'll of the light of the I chapter 6. assage cited ling to me

If Deleu:re's ie MalfatJi's Ie late nine-

8

-ona.nt ones 9 ublished by hadhimself }eT Delaue uion for his line smdies, ltter. nab inhabit on UexkUll. Ie discipline selection is 'al Sl11Jcture, 20), and the t beauty is a eclion (# 46 !.IX, 19W). In ntasy' about tytendijk was of Deleuze's

10

nd Reflex' is IOfllement of egard for the 10WS it5df~

,instin!X:loing,when s iftc>meone a hole'in my m{tle:s~ ;e

holes ~~

.1'

11

199

movement takes place' (DeIeuze 1990: 189). The mention of$Omnambulism is intriguing, as (on the evidence of /ruiiftds and lrutiltdioru) it suggests that Deleuze was notjust researching the concept of tornnambu.limI during this period, but also Iivi.ag it as a problem. The eight"'}'eaI' gap begins after the publication in 1953 of EmfMitirlllllnd SubjediviI.y (Ddeuze's study of Hume) and lfi.ftWts and IflJt.ittJtimu. At the end of the eight years, in 1961, Deleuze published two very different articles, '1..Lacretius and NaturaIi!llTl' and the first piece on llllIlIOChi!lIT. The anomaly in Deleuu's account of his 1JOIllJWJlbuliltie phase is his publication in 1959 of'Smse and Value', an extract from his forthcoming Nietzstlle aM~, reprinted more or less complete as part of the book. in 1962. Deleuze's tint work on Nietzsche thus emerges in !he sixth year in the eight-year gap, three yea.rs flricr to his affirmation ofJung. The two 1961 l:eXU appear to be so opposed that one would think they had different aumon, The first text argues for a philosophiC31 naturalism that OI/ercomes the religious appeal to myth and fate, and the second is a Jungian depth-psychoJogicai voyage into mythical history! However, it ihauld be noted that the Lucretius essay contains references to me Jungian concepts of anima and animus. The fact. th.at Deleuze's eight-year hole waA brought to an end by the publication of two texIS in such tension with each other is exlreOlely intereating from both philosophical and biographical poinu of \'lew. Making an implicit alIUo1ion to Kant's distinction between two types of zero in his essay on 'Negative Magnitudes', BergiOn writes that 'both are equal to zero, but in the one case the zero expresses the fact that there is nothing, in the other that we have two equal quantitiei of oppoUte sign which compenQte and neuttali.te each other'. Deleuze also appeals to chis notion of consciousneu in 'Bergson and the Concept of Difference' (Deleuze 1956b: 57), and it lurks under the surface in DijftJf8fla llnd TUpett./Jim (DR 284). Following BergiOn. Ruyer claims that this ~is,a non-intellectual knowledge, or more exactly, QYS Ruyer, a non-perceptual knowledge, in mat its knowlMge does not rely on senJIory infonnation coming from outside. He mggests that we ihould fint turn to semantics for help with regard to the issue of knowledge. In European lartguages, there are some uses of the term 'knowledge' which are closer to the meaning of 'power' l~. Ruyer note5 that the English and German say 'I can swim' (jt pt:ux nagerJ, whereas the French say 'I know how to swim'
200

12

13

14

15

Notes on Sources

hanito imagin~ what knowledF withoqt reb.tions, formal di1lcriminations and concepfli would be, A knowledge without diatance (the application of univenlll! concepts to tItU thing implies some awareness of the gap between knower and known) is no knowledge at all. Bergson likens the enactment of an ilUtinet to the 8O!IUWDbulist who 'acl1l his dremn'. But if 'uncollllciousness may be absolute' in the somnambulist, how could the:,.. realty enact a dream in the external world? 'Does the 8OIW18ID.bu1ist avoid obltacla because his eyes are open and he has some son of 'lUbliminal' perception of them, or not?' (Lacey 1989: 146). Bergson is aWng us to iuJa«ine some miraculous hannony between the mindscape of the sleepwalker and the environment in which he is walking. Lacey's problems can perhaps be reKJlved if a precise distinction is made bel:W'een the lllnJCtl.U'e of inttinetual collllciousnellS and that of intelligent consciousness. At the beginning of his career, '"-mdt had argued that the lower cognitive p~ exhibited a hierarchy of unconlldoUi ~ thus synthesizing data for Che higher activity ofjudgement at the level ofconsciousnell!l (Diamond 1980: 31-8; Hatfiek! 2003: 100). For irultance, at Che most buic level, perceptiona were synthesiD:d out of senllalions through unconscious inference:s. However, his defence of unconscious inferences was qualified: 'this process is unconscious, and we can infer it only from those clemen II which enter into conlldousness. But when we trandate it into conscious termS, it ta.kes the form of an i~ The ~ mJtr- is the process that joiIU il1lelf to ICmration, giving rise to perception' (Wundt 1862: 65; dted in Diamond 1980: 32), But later he denied that unconscioUi pTOCell8l':i were carrien of logical syntheses, and he elEplieitly denied the existence of uncollllcious mentalltares which he rtduced to physiologicalltates. In 18M, there is record of a visit by MaJfaoi to the theosophist Franz von Baader, with whom he diIcu.ued the decadence of medicine due to mat.erialism. Both YOn Baader and Ma1fatti saw in anima1 magnetiml the proof of the incoJteClness of mat.erialism, and agreed Chat Moaner himself had been an 'an:h-materi.aliJt' whose therapy could only be understood properly within Schellingian pantheism (Faivre 1996: 5!). Lucie, a patient ofJanet's, had periods of 'somnambulism' in which .he was completely absorbed in her activiry (whether it be eating or bookkeeping), but was oblivious to everything else. These IiOmnambulic activities were dissociated from the rest of her conlldousneu. But the diJllociarion of her mental faculties went further than this, :uJanet found separate 'personalities' enche.rged with different mental faculties. Lude 1 depended on visual infonuation, while Lude 2 depended on taeliliry. It was in this state that Lude regularly adopted a po&tu.re of terror, which repeated her precipitating Inluma, in which abe had been frightened by two men hiding behind a cul13in. 'To have one's body in the posture of terror is to feel the emotion of terror; and if this po.lI:ure is determined by a subconscious idea, the patient will have the emotion alone in his consciOUllness without knowing why he kds this way. ~I'm afraid and I don't know why", Lucie can say at the beginning ofher aisis when her eyes take on a wild look and her anna make gestures of terror. The unconscious is having its dream; it llCes the men behind the curtain and puts the body in a posture of terror' Oanet 1889: 409; cited in Haule 247), Freud had criticized the nodon of 'lUbconscioUSDess' as it implied that there was another consciousness somehow beneath the surfiIce, butJanet's conrepdon of the IUbconildous here shows itself rooted in the IiOmnambulist model. TM U~ ~ is /uMng its dnitmJ: there is a state of consciousness going on, but it is trancelike and dissociated from a1I other psychological interestll. Alfred Binet was working concurrently witbJanet on this approach to mental pathology. In his AltmJOmu of f1Ie ~ (1892) he wrote of the division of conJlCiousness: It is not an alteration of sensibility, but it is rather a peculiar attitude of the mind the concentration of attention on a sinF thing. The result of this state of concentration is that the mind it absorbed to the exclUBion of other things, and to JUch a degree insensible that the way ill opened for automatic actions; and thae Ildions,

16

17

18

]9

Notes on Sources concepts to this lowledge 'acts his lIS

16

luld th~·

obstacles them,or harmony

17

:walking. 18

ween the

processei Ie higher eld200~:

19

of sensauerenu.s etemenu

s"itrakes to lIeItG-

ButJarer 1e expI.icbysiologiIder, with n Baader terialiJrn, Ipy could I.

>mplelety oIivious to fhercon" asJanet Lucie 1 this sute dpitaling rtain. 'To nd if this ion alone on'tlmow .Ioolr.and I the men ); cited in plied thal >nception roM UfUOl'r trancelike

aI patholiousness: Ie mind,f concento IIIJCh a 'C actions,

I

t

I I I I I

(

I i

1

201

becoming mo~ oomplieatOO, as in the ptuMing case, may aJil>ml: a psychic char· acter and CONltitute intelligences of a paralIitic kind, existing side by ride with the normal penonality which U not awa.re of them. (Binet 1892: 93) Although &hopenhauer u IlOmetimes seen as marerialist or nihilist, his theory of will makc& him a peculiar IOrt of vita1i.&t, for when he talks about the will, he always refers to an 'inner force': 'Ak. the very l~ grade, the wiD maniIest[s} itself as a blind impulse, an obscure, dull urge, ~le from all direct knowableness' (I, 149) Oddly, in his citation of this ~ in I'llSands tmd ~ Deleuze deletes the ref· e~nce to insects (I &: 127-8). One of the UD'W3l1ted consequences 01. Ruyer', theory, however, is that it appears to make the existence of homosexual love impossible to explain. Nevertheless, Rufer implicidy makes available a potential interpreradon of homosexuality through his recourse to the biology and myth of the hermaphrodite; in chapter 4- we will see that Deleuze himself opu to take up this poISibllity. Dclcuze lakes up Bergson's attempt tD define life in predominandy ~ terms (against the grain of neo-Darwinian definitions of life as the self.~lieuionof genetic material). It u a Platonizing tn.iIta.U to treaI: life as if it we~ the result of purely genetic delerminanm, outside of the spaliOlemporal conslnlints that are imposed on the genes during the process of devdopment. In &rpmism, Deleuze eontends dw evolution 'does not move from one actual term to another aetuaI term in a homogencoUl URilinear series, but from II vinualrerm tD the heterogencous terms that actuaIiIe il along II ramified series' (B 99-1(0),JUltbecause genes are 'ideal' entities dots not mean that they coexist in an ideal neaIm akin to logical possibility, from which aaual series are simply selected for existence, The movement from the virtual to the acnW requires a tranliCendenlal account of the 'spatio-umporal dynamisms' that allow for the actuali.r.adon of ideal genene combinations, The relation be~n genes and environment more profoundly determine diIcm:e anab:mtiJ;al mui ~ tlif&S1uJlds at which change in function comes about. Delt':uze citt".S the debate between Geoffroy Saint· Hilaire and Cuvier over the cla.uification of anatomical t':lcments. Against Cuvier's empirical approach to the problem, Geoffroy argues that the basic unit of biology should be abstract, purely anatomical and aromic elemenu, independent of both fonn and function (DR 184). These atomic elemenl.'l 'are linked by ideal relations or reciprocal detenninadon: they thereby constiture an 'essence' which is the Animal in itself (DR 185). Here the elementl of the Idea are not genes, but p~ anatomical pacts. The relation between an Idea and iu aetWI.lization mirron the relalion between anatomical elements and the aaualizalion in embryonic development. However, Deleuze thinks that Geoffroy's method can be tranafcrred direcdy to genetics. Insofar as genes act 'onl~' in relation to other genes ... the whole C011Jututes a w.rwali.ly, a potentiality' (ibid.). In evolutionary theory, the combination of genetic effects is determined by assesmlent or adaptive function, DeleUlC lleelNl to accept such 11 ¥iew when he writes 'the genesis of development in organisms mUll therefore be undentood as the aetualisalion of an essrnce, in accordance with variOUl speeds and reasons detennined by the milieu, with accelerations and interrUptions' (DR 185/241). In accordance with evolutionary theory, then, the dift""erential relations between elements are guided by the exigencies of adaptation (me '1pCeds and rralIOnJl derennined by the milieu'). However, Deleuze makes the anti-Darwinist point that all this happens 'inclependendy of any U'llIllIfonniJt prassage from one actual term to another' (ibid.). The constraints on anatomical change allow for the determination of ideal, fixed inva.ria.nu at a virtual level. Conu-ary to traditional '6xism', it is nOl species thctnllClves which are' 'fixed', but rather the th~oId points that COl18lnlin morphologic.al change. and which can be determined autonomoualy at a virtual level (the universal Animal) prior tD their actualization. 'Furillm and evolutionism rend to be reconciled to the extent that movement does nOl go from one actualrerm to another, nor from general to particular, but - by the inter-

202

20

21

2

3

4

5

6

mediary ofa detenninant individuation - from the vinua.l to its acwali.w.ion' (DR 251). In the preface to InsrJrlas aM Ins'ituIit1n.s Deleuze says Ihat that problem of instinct is: 'How does the synthesis of tendencies and the oiject that satisfies them corne about? The water I drink does not resemble at aU the hvdrates my organism lacla. The more perfect an instinct in its domain, the more it belongs to me species, and me more it seems to constiune an irreducible power of synthesis' (DI 21). The paralysing instinct of me wasp would thus be an example of inteUecrual intuition. Perhaps we can finally understand the real reason for Spinoza's hobby of obseJVing spiders fighting - they are exemplan of the blessed life.

Chapter 3: DeIeuze and the JUDgian UDCOIJId.Qus This relatiollllhip between Bergson andJung has been noted before, but still remains relatively unstudied. See Pete Gunter'. informative article 'Bergson andJung' (1982), which is a more general oveJView of the connections. It is worth pointing out that Deleuze '5 Jungian essay was not publlihed quiedy in a partitularly obscure place, but in Atgufl'leJW, one of the most innovative French journals of me time. Deleuz.e dearly has a higher view of Jung's work than is common among philosophers. A term used by Theodore flournoy in Frtnn lruJ.14 to W! Plmut Man (1899) to explain bow mediums and spiritualists could apparently recall in detail ancient mythological and religious motifs to which they had had no access. The proeesa of cryptomnesia occurs when 'certain forgotten memories reappear in the subject to see in them something n~' (quoted in Shamdasani, 2003: 128). The process of regression is beaulifuJly ilIwtrated in an image used by Freud. The libido can be compared with a river which, when it meets with an obstruction, gets dammed up and ca:u.sea an inundation. If this river has previously, in its upper reaches. dug out other channels, these channels will be filled up again by reaeon of me damming below . . . The river has nol perman~tIy flowed back into the old channels, but only for as long as the obstruction la&u in the main stream ... [These channels1were once stages or srations in development of the main river-bed, passing possibilities, traces of which still exist and can therefore be wed again in times of flood (Jung, Theory ofPsyi:1uxJ.tuJ1yIis, in CW 4: 163) In the Schreber c:ase history itself, Freud leaves the alternative open, although he reemphasizes his commitment to seeking sexual aetiology·by suggesting that since the paranoiac still 'perceives the external world and tll.kes into account any al~ration.s that may happen in it', it is more probable that paychosis can be explained by a 10&5 of libidinal interest (75). Rut who would deny that the psychotic has the capacity for perception or registration of change in the external world? The function of reality mwt involve something more than that. Moreover, Freud himself appeared to accept at me beginning of the argument that psychOllis involved a 10&5 of 'reality'. Oearly this point only problematizes further what is required by a psychoanalylic account of the relation to the external world or to reality. Freud developed his account of the emergence of reality in two main directions. The fint lrajectory lends itself readily to the kind of daboration produced by Ferenczi in hill 'Stages of me Development of the SeIlJle of Reality', in which the 'sense of reality' is gradually built up through the mechanisms of im.r~ection of libidin.aJ.ly invested objeeu into me p4Yche, and projection of such ol'!iecu outside the ego if they are productive of unpleasure. (Ferenczi, 1913: 22M; and 'Introjection and Transference', ibid.: 47f.). In his 1925 paper 'Negation', for irultance, Freud writes 'What is bad, what is alien to the ego, and what is external are, to begin with, identical'. The second tngeetory is f:3.k.en up by La.can, wbo insists that we first of an must remember that the human child is 'born prematurely', and SO any w:k of saDsfaction is always already Wlderstood 35 a Iadt of care, related to the enigmatic tkJrire of the other who has duty of care. There is

Not8s on Sources 251). ~ct

is:

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Dains 982), a par· of

laiS

mong
L The I,

I

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8

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9

10

208

no self1mdoeed std:e of 'primary narci$sism'; rather, narciasiml concenu the identification with the image of another that one would like to be. If 'reality' means anything in this context, it must refer less to some putatively •external world', than to .other people', that is, to the coherence of the symbolic order. as ideally undenvritten by an intersu~ective pact of mutual recognition. T ~ muI s,mboZs oj till Libido was 'written at top speed ... without regard to time or method ... The whole thing came upon me like a landslide that cannot be Stopped: it was the ~plosion of all those psychic contents which could find no room. no breathing-5pa.ce, in the constricting annosphere of Freudian psychology and its narrow outlook' (CW 5: xxiii). The book is indeed bizarrely structured, with passages of theory conlinuaUy being intclTUpted and unbalanced by lengthy outbreaks of mythl)logical and etymological excavation, the reader being left to draw his own conclusions about where the book is going and how it nright all hang together. It is perhaps best read 3.5 the description on two leveu of a process of psychic regression. one particular and the other uniYef"llal.lt announces itself 3.5 an analysis ofa £ext writteTl and published by a young American woman, Frank. Miner, who Jung claims later went on 1:0 develop schizophrenia. Psychosis is characterized by Jung (initially following Freud) as involv~ ing a process of regression to an earlier psychic sta~. Psychosis demon.&traleS a particular kind of regression - loss of the 'function of reality' - a.nd, according to a psychoanaJytic logic we will examine in a moment, it thus promises in tum to hold the key to the very grnesis of this reality-function. The guiding method and purpose of the book is thus to retrace the genesis of the higher cognitive processes through the mirror of a complex process of regression of libido: the book is subrided 'A Contribution to the History of the Evolution of Thought'. The particular fantasies of Miss Miller are thus the door through whichJung ttavelJ back in time to reoover the traces of the universal genesis of the human psyche. Wandlutlgm und Sym.bolI d8r Libido was origin.al.ly translated by Beatrice Hinkle in 1916 as hJch.olot:'1 of tM Unam.s~ In 1952 Jung revised the book substantiaUy and reissued it as !YJmhole tier Wa1liIllmg; this was first t:ra.n.slared in 1956 3.5 SymIxJls ojTmnsformatinn (trans. R. F. C. Hull, Princeton: Princeton University PreS8, 1967, 2nd edn). Unless othelWise stated, I refer here to the reprinted r:ranslation of the first edition (Princeton: Princeton Univemty Press, 1991), which makes up Appendi.Jc. B to the ColltJ,;l8tJ. Worlrs ofJung. However. in order to preserve the sense of the original German tide. I refer to it in the main text 3.5 Trd"nS~ muI s,mI»Lt of till I.ibitlo, but in the foomotes it is referred to by its English tide, Psychology "j the CltlaJ'llSdow. Lacan suggests that withJung 'we come upon a very traditional mode of thought clearly distinct from orthodox analytic thought Psychic interest [or libido in Jung's general sense} is here nothing other.than an alternating spotlight, which em come and go. be prqjecr.ed, be withdrawn from realitr, at the whim of the pulsation of th~ psyche of the $ul!ject' (Lacan 1955-4: lIS). Lacan proceeds to criticize this conception for 'iliunri· nat[ing] nothing in the way of mecha.nisms'. Ifu criticism on this point is unjmt, 3.5 we will see. He overlooks the mechanism !:hat is reaJly at the heart of Jung's essential insight in Tt"fj~mul Symbolr of tIIIl..iM48, and which is the 'uansfonnation' that reveals the true interest ofJung's genetic conception as a whole: the case of the third phase of the libido, that of'desexualisation'. 'In nature', he asserts. 'this artificial distinction [between nutritive and sexual phases] does not exist' Sometimes it can seem thatJung genuincly undel1ltands this primal. self-differentiating libido 10 be an objective, biological process. However, Jung' aIJo adopts Kantian, Schopenh.auerian and Bergsonian po6itions on the nature of this primal libido. So, in Kantian mode he will call the libido 'a complete X, a p~ hypothms, a model or .:ountel", [which] is no more concrelA!ly conceiftble than the energy known to the world of modem ph)'llics' (CW 4: 124). But then he will allow himself a quast-Schopenhauer-

204

Notes on SOO'TCtS

ian conception of a 'continuouslife.u~, a will to live' (CW 4: 125), according to which we are pennitted to think the thing-in-il!elf in general through an analogy with our own

non-phenomenal aspect, the will. Jung admits that tbi.I conception of libido it 'a bit of psychologiod "dunlll.ri.mI*', fa. throwing of psychological perceptions inlD material reality' (CW 8: ISO). Jung's appeal ID Bergson's &n vitIJl adds a certain amount of furthtr confwlion. For a lA.U'Vey of the influences on Jung's apeculative endeavou.rs. chapter g of Soou Shamdasani'! Jtmg mill the MMmg of Modmt ~ is indispensa-

15

ble. For immnce, the tranlition from the sexual to the dCHlexualized stage iI explained in these tenm: 'part of the energy required in the production of egp and sperrna haa been tranllpos.ed into the creation of mechanisms for allurement and protection of !he young ... The differenliated libido is hencef'onh d ~ ... This now presupposes a very different and very complicated relation ro reality, a true funclion of reality, which, funcoonally inseparable, is bound up wi!h the needs of procreation' (CW B: 129, 133). Jung'. account indeed suggests a more ethological approach to the libido than is to be found in Freud, for whom the drives have a blind, repetitive chamcter, So if nulrilive and scxuallibido in some sense guide the orpnism in its navigation of the UmwtIt, then what need is there for II separate 'function of reality'? 12 One ofJung's most powerful critiques of Freud is his argument that it is fallaciOUll to infer the narure of a desire from the historical existence of a law that rq»resses iL It is in a letter to Freud thatJung most clearly draWl the conclusion: The large amount of free-floating anxiety in primitive man, which led to the creation of taboo ceremonies in the widest sense (totem, etc.) produced among other things the inarst I4boo aa weD ... Incest is forbidden n.ot bK4ust at is dtI:ri'tlld but beClUJe the free..floating anxiety regressively reactivates infantile material and tums it into a ceremony of atonement (aa though inttst had been, or might have been desired). (Freud/Jung 1975: #' 315J) This will be exactly Deleuze's and Guattui's argument in AntHJaJipus. 'The law tells us: You shall not ma.ny your mother, and you shall not kill your father. And we docile subjedll say to ourselvea: SO that', what I wantedl ... One acts aa if it were possible to oondude directly from psychic repuuion the nature of the repressed, and from the prohibition the nature of what is prohibited' (AO 114). Deleuze and Guattlri don't refer to this letter (which was not published until 1975), but make oblique reference to other IJILiSllgcs inJung where the &arne point is made, albeit in 11 carieatural form, with somewhat leti logical force. In Trmu~ aM S'jfflbolr t)j 1JuJ LibidIJ, Jung writes that incest probably never possessed panicularly great significance as such, because cohabilation with an old woman for all possible motives could hardly be preferred to mating with a young woman. It JW:eDlS that the mother acquired inCestl10US significance only retrospectively ... Incest prohibition can be understood, therefore, aa a result of regrel8ion and as the result of a libidinal anxiety, which regressively atta.d.s lhe mother. Naturally it is difficult or impossible to say from whence this anxiety may have come'. (CW 8: 396) Deleuze and Guattari write that 'Freud couldn't abide a simple humoroUll remark by Jung, to the effect that Oedipus mlllt not really exist, since even the primitive prefers a pretty young woman to hiI mother or his grandmother. Ifjung betrayed everything, it was nevertheless not by way of this remark' (A-O 114). 1~ In his cenll'a1 chapter on 'The Transformation of the libido', Jung highlighll the example of fire, inviting the conclusion that in the last instance reality as such, transcendence pure and simple, i.lo conSlituted aa the accidental by-product of an illicit, di»placed act of mailtlll'balion. ]4 Th.iB diltinction is made in 'On the Two Kinds of TItinking', the opening chapter of the book. Directfd thinking 'creatf:S innovations, adaptations, imitates reality and seeks to act upon it', while mnmsy thinking, on the contnuy. IW:n$ away from tbi.I tendency, 'sell II

16

17

18

Notes on Soun;es which ~rown

.

bit of arerial unt of

I

IVOUl'll,

15

pellAnOOm

16

nahlls of the

.resup17

libido ter. So of the

ou.s to iLl! is the l11long rf!t1but lturns :been III

18 ~11s us:

docile ,ble to m the don't nee to I, with ~ that

19

20

:c:ause ferred

us sig'dore, fiSively :e this

i.rkby ~ersa

ing, it 15 the , traIl-

it, dillof the ebto y, '1Ie1ll

free subjective wishes, and is, in regatd to adaptation, wholly unproduClive'.Jung adds that whereas the rnarnUl of the tint kind of thinking comes from moYementl presently occurring in the actual. Mind, 'the material of these thoughts [in the second kind of thinking] which wms away from reality, can naturally be only the pillS! with its thousand mem~s' (ibid.). The lIChema reaJ1s 8ergIon's dualism between perception and memory in Mauer MId MnuJry. The de-animalion of reality would thus correspond tn a tendency to complete d.e-tlexuaJisation at the level of directed. thinting (and not jUlll: the 'quasi' desexualization of animistic reality). Deleuze also mers to Pierre Gordon's SIs tmdlUlip:m, which recounts an equally specuJative primal history populated with Hyperboream and Amazolll. For Deleu.t.e's comments on 8achofen in Coltl~ arati C1WltJ, see M 52-3. Deleuz.e also continues to tn Gordon's book right up to A T!wu.stlnd PlaWw.. Thus, says DeleU2e in ColtlDM.! MId ~ at the origin of civillza.tion lies the effect of the Cold on the sexual ingrinct Both the sexes arc impoverished by the advent of the Ice Age. The males beaune physically coarsened, leas sensitive, seeking to rediscover their dignity in the development of thought. This had an elTect on the females, who could !lot but become 'ICIltimental' at seeing such brutes try tn think.. The sentimental Amazon is a new figure in history, and exerts a fascination upon the subordinate male. This fascination is intensified by the Amazon's sudden displays of 'severity' at the sight of coarseness. A t.ra.nIfonnation in oon&cioumess comes about, in which the ICKes interact in an entirely new way. Deleuze refel1l to hypotheses about the glacia.I period elsewhere in his work., thus his ill.listence that 'the glacial period was wholly responaible for the transformation' of sexuality and coll.lCiousness (M 54). He even identifies a 'freezing point, the point of dialectical l1'3lIm1utabon, a divine latency corresponding to the catutrophe of the Ice Age' (M 52). On this reading, Freud's imisr.ence on lexual aetiology finds its application in patiems who experience sexual problems in their current life, beaUSt: thcy cannot help but interpret their past in terms of their ICxual frustrations. In other words, Freud's method tallies first of aJ) with the 'neurose.s of the young', who are indeed both obsessed with sex anti lIU~ect to restricdons on their access to it. AI. fil1lt, in 'lmflS..fonnIJlimu MId Symbols ofthe Libido jung argues that the transition from nutritive to sexual libido rcsullll in the mother being taken as the first sexual object. But in the .same wod he ends up denying that incestuous sexual desires have pre-eminent importance in psychosexual development (CW 8: 396-7). The passage in square brackets is omitted by Deleuze. Deleuze cites these passages as coming from a cort'CSpondence between Jung and R. LOy ('Some CnJdaI Pflints in Psycboa.na.l)'llis: A Correspondence between Dr. Jung and Dr LOy', ON 4). However, the passages actually come fromJung'lI notoriow 19M essay 'The State of PsychothenlPY Today' (ef. CW 10: 167-9). Deleuze's article also contains reference to a 'deeper unconscious which encircles Ull in a tie ofbtood' (SM.128). OnJung's relatiOIlll with the Nazis, see the remarks of Andrew Samuels in 1'M Political PsycAe (Samuels 1993: 287-316); also Grossman 1979, and the conection Lmgtring S1UJlltJws: jtJ.~ FmuliIm.s anti Aftti~ (M.aidenbawn &: Martin 1991). Aside from mentioning the important p3MIlge in NiIIutIut MId ~ I leave aside here the queltion of Deleuze's poIIible views about Jung's relationship with Nazism, but this queldon should be dealt with. One of the complaints about Jung's comments in the 1984 essay concerns his claims about racial differences inJewish and 'Aryan' psychology: TheJewish race as a whole - at least this is my experience - ~ an unconscious which can be compared with the 'Aryan' only with reserve. Creative individuals apart, the average Jew is far too conscious and differentiated to go about pregnant with the ~n.siOnJI of. unborn futures. The 'Aryan' unconscious has a higher potential than the Jewish: that is both the adY.Wtage and the disadvantage of a youthful.

mer

reality, CW8:

)} ,-

205

206

Notes on SOU1'US neas not yet CuD}' weaned from barbarism, In my opinion it lw been a grave error in medical psychology up till now to apply Jewish categOries - which care not even binding on all Jews - indiscriminately to GellI1anic and Slavic Christendom. 8&ause

of this the most precious sc:aet of the Gennanic peoples - their creative and intuitive deplh of soul - has been aplained as a morasi of banal in.t3ntilism, while m\' own w.arning voice has fOf decades been su.s~ed of anti-5emitiml. This suspicion emanated from Freud. He did not understand the Germanic pi}'che any more than did his Germanic followel'll. Hal the formidable phenomenon of National Socialism, on which the whole world gazes with astonished eyes, taught them better? Where was that unparalleled tension and energy while as yet no National Soci.ali.sm existed? Deep in the Germanic psyche, in a pit that is anylhing but a garbage-bin of unreal· izable infantile wishes and unresolved Iamily resentmenlS. A movement that grips a whole nation must have matured in evety individual all well. That is whv I say thaI the Germanic unconscious contains tensions and potentialities which medical psv. chology mwe consider in its evalualion of the unconscious, (aN 10: t66\ One of the many reasons this paasage is so horrible iJl that it sounds like an invocation rather than a description of libidinal fOfces. In the seclian on the Judaic priest in N~· u.t:he afId Philosoph" Deleuu can be found taking up the issue of racial 'types'. In Niet· lSChe, he claims, 'race only ever intervenes as an element in a emss~, as a factor in a (OlIlpkxwhich is physiological but also psychological, political, historical and Bocial, Such a complex is exactly what Nietzsche cal.Is a type' (NP 125). Deleuze's motto for dealing with race is Rimbaud'lI 'I am a beast, a Negro ofan inferior race for all eternity'. In the orphanic unconscious, 'b0.5t4td no longer designates a. famiIia1 Slat.e, but the process or drift of the races'. JUll as a conscious bastard's unconsciow fantuies will tend towards it!enlificadon with other lineages than their adopted family, so there are basllU'd lines within 'molar' races. Deleuze'$ politics is profoundly influenced by ArnQld Toynbee's focus on 'creative minorities', which usurp ~nt civili.zations. 21 Deleuze's piece on the theme of islands concerns a coUeaive and individual 'second birth' (01 l~). 22 Jung proposes the same solution to this paradox of the unknown as was tQ be later tak.en up by Uvi-5trauss with regard to the Melanesian term mtJII4. Referring to. Huben'lI and Mauss's claim that IlIIlMshould be rak.en as a 'category' in a quasi·Kantian sense, Jung went on to interpret numa as the primitive form taken by the concept of 'psychic energy' (or libido in its expanded. IIense) (CW8: 61-6; d. CW 9i: 89,155). Levi· Strauss objected to the predominant conception of mQfjQ as an essentially 'primitive' category, which abo happened to be Jung's conception. 'Far from charaa.erising certain civilisatioN, or archaic or semi-archaic SO<3lled Stages" in the ~Iution of the human mind, might be a function of a certain way that the mind situates itself in the presence of dUngs', in particular thinp mat 'do not yet have a common name' (Uvi· Stra:uSi 1950: 54). In fact, 1lIIlna, insofar as it qualities an unknown oqect, has the same function as a teno like 'thingumajig'. MQfW should therefore be treated as a 'floating signifier' which gives a na1llt to t1rI cUw of UMnown and as ,n u~ entili&s. Uvj.. Sttauss argues in explicitly Kantian terms that the floaling signifier (or 'zcCl>6Yll1bo1') is the condition of possibility fur llOdaI organization. MauSi Wall right to 'invoke the notion of flID'Was grounding ttrtain apriori~thelicjudgments'(56), and Uvi-SUlIUSS sets himself the task. of purifying this fundamenlai category down to a basic 'object" x' which grounds the relation of mind to world. 'The sole function' of 1lIIlY14 'is to fill a gap between the signifier a.nd the signified, or, more exactly, to signal the fact that ... a relationship of non-equivalence becomes established benveen signifier and signi!ied' (56). Levi-Slr.WSS, in fact, criticizes Jung in the same eway for inadequately purifying his conception of the symbolic character of the unCOnsciOUII, In both Mauss andJung, 'the unconscious is conceived as a symbolic ¥tem; but for Jung, the unCOosciOUl i$ not reduced to the system; it is 6lIed CuD of ~bok, and even filled with symbolized things K

I 23

24

25

26

Notes on Soun:es a grave error care not even [dom. Because ctlive and intu-

lism. while my This lIuspicion mymo~than

)na! Socialism, better? Whert' ialism exilted? ~bi.n of unreal:nt that grip; a whv I sav that :h medical P"'166\ : an invocation c priest in roel· types'. In Nietling. as a factor :ical and social. L\l.e'1i; motto for fOT all eternity' I state, but the .IS fantasies will ill', 1IO lhere are need by Arnold

23

24 25

ions. li~dual

'second

to be later Referring to a quasi-Kalllian the concept of i: 89,153). Levi· tia1Il' 'primitive' \ characterising evolution of the ates itself in the on name' (Levi~d, has the same ed as a. 'floating :WId enti!i.fs. Uvi)r 'zero-5fl11bo1') It to 'invoke the and Uvi-Strauss basic 'ol!iect = x' m47IQ 'is to fiji a the fact that , . . ler and lignified' tely purifying his l&S andJwtg, 'the lconscious is not ymbolized things WlIS

/I.

26

27

207

which form a kind of subwatum to it'. He then briefly criticizes the notion of archetype on the grounds that it is impossible to see how it could be innate or acquired, 'ff it is innate, one must object thaI., without a theological hypothesis, it is inconceivable that the content coming from elCperience should p~ede it; if it ill acquired, the problem of the hereditary character of an acquired uncon.sci.ous would be no leu aWeBOme than that of acquired biological features' (Uvi-Strauss 1950: 36-7). The former objection is. weak, as it does not even address lhe biological aspects of the arch~· type. Despite these criticisms ofJung by Levi-Strauss,Jung fllllkes the same basic move in his conception of the unconscious (although Lacan is the first to explidtly take up this theory within psychoanalysis) (Laan 1966: 690). His notion of the 'unconscious' functions exactly like mcma: we have a relation to the unconscious only insofar as some fluid entity stands in for the unknown. Jung's argument is ~liated by the analogy he draws between the minds of children and 'primitives' such .. the Pueblo Indians. Even if the two are proved to share similar trailS, the differences between the two would undennine the analogy. Because of the dominance of the ego at this stage, the shadow is often projected onto an other. The unconscious thus tint lends to appear in projected form. Lacan's eaPy work on paranoiac identification also goes in this direction. In an important passage in CinemtJ 2, Deleuze ~thinks the natu~ of cinematic renet;· ivity (the film within a film) in a wav that can be extended to all images, induding dream images. To have a ~flexive component in a film or image an often leem like a quick. way for the artist to escape from the inadequacy of their work (it's bad, but he krwws that it's bad). Reflexivity it; theref~ no guarantee of superior inr.ell.igena at inruition, and in contemporary 'visual culture' it could be said to have become its opposite: an unthinking reflex. Deleuze says that if reflexivity is succetiRul in film, then it is always grounded in a 'higherjustification': 'It wiD be observed that, in all the arts, the work within the work has often been linked to the consideration of a surveillance, an investigation, a revenge, a conspiracy or plot' (C2 77). ~leuze's subsequent refer· ence to the play within the play in Hamlet is probably the key example here. The play within the play is reflexive in a specific sense. Rather than putting the whole play in question marks, so that the spectator lItands outsidI the whole play, the play within the play thTUJiI1l the ipectator deeper into the play, so that they are now installed in the whole play (as spectators in the play it&ell). The play within the play tells the truth about the spectators, and about the whole play, but it does so by dqricting the lruth of the dramatic events from a more distant, yet more interiorised perspective. 'The flowers of the yucca plant open for one night only. The moth takes dle pollen from one of the flowers and kneads it into a little pellet. Then it mitt! a second flower, cuts open the pistil. lays its eggs between the ovules and then stuffs the pellet into the funnel-fhaped opening of the pi.lllil, Only once in its life does the moth carry out this complicated operation' Oung 1919: 1~2). Following a survey of secondary literature on the archetypes, Jean Knox has recendy proposed that there exist four fundamental models for making sense of me notion of archetnJe, all of which can da.im support from Jung's writings (KnOll: ~OO~: 30-0): 1. As 'biological entities in the form of information which ill hard-wired in the genes, providing a set of imtnJctions to the mind as well as to the body'. 2. As •organising mental frameworks of an abstract na~, a set of rules or instroctions but with no symbolic or reprClentational content, so that they are never directly experienced'. 3. As •core meanings which do not contain representarional content and which therefore provide a central symbolic signifiance to our experien~.' 4. As 'metaphysical entities which are eternal and a~ therefore independent of the body'. It seems that there is considerable overlap between the last two models. The examples

208

28

29

30

31

32

Notes on Sources

for the third model are Plato's and Kant's Ideas, which both have a transcendent and etemallltlWS; moremeT' these species of Idea are not really 'repre8C11lational', as Knox 5emlll to think. Our represenm.tional concepts participate in and are guided by Ideas, but Platonic or Kantian Ideas thcmlIelvea do not function like conceptIJal representationa. We can therefore reduce these two models to one essential one, that ofarchetype as Idea. As none of these models is neussariJy incoMistent with each other, it may be that all can be defended, and organized into a systematic theory; on the other hand it may be that only one or I:W(), or none, of the models is defenJlible. I will lUggat that Delew:e'll philosophy can help to make sense of each of each of these three models. Knox cI.al.mi that Stevens does not consis~dymaintain the distinction between archetype as such and archetypal image, as he 'suggests that the former can be located in the limbic system of the brain and illustrates this with the mother-child archetypal system, a concept which llUggeSls that the archetype-aHuch conm.ins specific represenm.lional content rather than being purely an "innate neuropsychic potential'" (Knox 2003: :i2). It may be that if one clarifies the notion of instinct, this confusion (if llUch there is) will cw)lQrate. For Stevens, a passage such as this indicates the complemenm.rity ofjungianism wi!h ethology. He suggests that the e!hological account of the sign stimulus that trigers the release of an instinctIJal motor pattern is practically idenlical toJung's theory of archetypt.ll. 'Having been neglected fur the greater part of this century, the archetypal hypothesis is being red.iscovered and rehabiJjtated by thOle psychologists and psychiatrists who have adopted the ethological orientation (0 their subject matter and allowed an evolutionary perspective to illuminate their thinking' (StevenS and Price 2000: 8). In ethology, there are only instinctual gestalts in a restricted sellle. In his early easay 'The Comparative Study of Behaviour', Lorenz complained that when Jung refen to innate behaviour patterl'l8, he 'proceeds fro,n !he assumption of innate gestalt ruga, rather like pictures perceived, and indeed assumes that a 'projection' of such picturea into the morocsystemcan lUe placel' (Lorenz 1939: 29). But there are onlyinalinctIJal gatalts in a restricted sense. When attempting to understand how a lledgling'. inmnctive potential to fly is triggered by seeing the patterns of pl1.I11J.3if: undt:r !he mother's wing, !he ethologists insisted that the triggering power of the image mould be distinguished from the instinctual motor activity that follOW'll it. The two ll4pedll of the instinct do not resemble each other. When Lorenz showed how easy it was to trigger a goIlIing's instinctive feeding mechanisms by presenting his own face rather than its mother's, his conclusion was that the trigering image needed only to conform to the vaguest schema (two eyes and a mouth). The turkey's 'bird of prey' schema is composed ofdill£rel:e geometrical elements (with, for instance, quantitative constraints on relalive head size) In thenuclves, the various features characterizing a slimulUlllitualion or an object had neither wholeness or gestalt. They could be analysed into discrete stimuli, whose eliciting effect was strictly summative. It was also important that the schema was presented at the appropriate lime in the animal's neurological development, which underlined the rudimentary c.h.aracu:r of the i.mage schemu. Strictly speaking, therefore, there is no need for 'images' at the animal level. 'In an animal you can demonstrate very dearly that innate respomes are a combination of single I'ClpOnses to smaJ1, simpl.e slimulUll combinations, each of which has an eliciting eft'ect in itself (Ewm 1975: 59). Lorenz did come to grant that jung's !heory could be defended for human beings, but only 00 condition that !he images were understood as developmental phenomena. One of the Jruior problems with jung's work is !he frustrating lack of tenninological preci8ion. We have alrc:-.u:ty seen that instinct presupposes a son of consciousness, so lung must here be talking about egoic, reflexive consciousnellll in particular. But as we have seen Bergson and Delew:e are also prey to this ambiguity. After all, why should rhe: psyche: be conceived as a compensarory, negative feedback

37

Notes on Sourus lentand

asKnOK "I Ideas, 'resentarchetype tmay~

'hand it gest that lodels. 11 arche~ in the I system, lmlional :lOll: 82). 'e is) wiD

ism with ~rsthe

ofarchechetypal

psycrua. I allowed }(JO: 8). trlyessay

mers to timages, pictures stinctual s butincmother's Ie

di'lIin-

'S

of !he

trigger a than its m to the

:bema is 'ostraints ulus situ· 'Sed into tant that ::al develStrictly ima.I you Jf single ng elfttt could be ntoodas

1.

:lological

mess, so ~tas

we

feedback

209

mechanism, when Jung seeJDlI in general to be c>pJlO$OO to purely mechaniod conceplions of the mind? Moreover, in ~ and s,.oou of tAt LiINlo, jung had aKribed the emergence of human thought to the op;oriI1J of a homeostatic process: if anything, the process of desexuali2:ation is a positive feedback process, which incrcues the dift"ere1lce between Bell.ua! libido and thought. See my 'Rtbirth through Incest', cited above, for more on desexualization. It is not clear on the compensatory model ex:acdv wAy a homeostatic procetl5 should eventually inrervene. ~1I The opening words of the Oriliqut of I\ml R#tJMm lay out the Uaion: 'Human reason has the pecuIia.r fate in one species of itll cognitions that it is bw'dened with questions which it cannot d.ismiss, since they arc given to it as pfoblems 1"1 the nature of reason itself, but which it also cannot answer, since they transcend every apachy of human reason' (Kant 1782/1787: Avii). . :w The example realis the phenomenological psychiarry of Eugene Minkowski and

Ludwig Binswan~r. In the 1911 edition of Priru:ifJla of~~ Wundt expands the section on anonWous mentalstatt.s to d.iscusII Freud's/~ ofDnlams, but Freud is taken to be me latest advocare of me tendency, already pretent in the Schelling .chaol, to look to dreams and hypnotinn for a 'liberation of the soul': 'It ill a remarkable sign of the times that mis mystical dJ'eam.psychology should find itll mOlit enthusiastic fonowers in neuropathology' (ibid.: 686). 36 In Plato, me pure foIIDS are what are most real, in the sense that they arc erernal and seifilUfficient; the worid of appearance is defined by impermanence. There are many forms, to the point that Plato ball to ask whether-everything (noljustjustice, but dirt) has irs own eremaJ idea. In the Hellenic age, the multiplicity of Platollic fonDS is given order through drawing up a hiefllJ'Chy 6( reality; the tenn 'archetype' now refers to one of the fwimotdWlforms (for instance, the original fonn of fire in the Ctnpvs Hem'Ultieum). As with Plato, me archetype remains the object of a IpCcial tJi.simL Jung wants to rel:lin the Platonic notion that the archetypes are what have most ~ but he recognizes that the history of modem Western philosophy is the .ItoI}' of the dacent of the Ideas, the coUapse of the objectiYity of Ideas into subjectivity. 'From Dcscartcs and Malebranche onward, the metaph,siod value of the "idea" steadily deteriorated. It became a "thought", an internal condition of cognition' (CW 8: 186). The sense that archetypes are realities stllrtS ro fade, and they become the producrs of cognition. Jung goes on to say that this shift is 'dearly fannulated by Spinoza: "By 'idea' I understand a conception of the mind which the mind foIIDS by reason of its being a thinking thing., (Eth~ II Def. ~). He then adds that Kant in tllm 'reduced the archetypes to a limited number of ategories of the undentanding'. From Deleuze's perspective, with these last two remarks jung begins marclUttg 01£ in eK.aCtIy the wrong direction, If jung's aim is to preserve the 'reality' of ldeaa, in this pallII3gC he overlooks two possible allies, SpinO:D. and Kant. Deteuze's work on these two thinkers puts rightJung's mistake here, and in faa helps to slref1gthen the possible philosophical buis for jungian archetypes. 37 Oddly, the translation of ~ Tp has it that the archetype is of 'the practical employment of reason'. However, this concepOon is in any case not exactly wrong, as the archetype does ultimately have a practicallilatui, as Kant makes dear in the Critiqtur of Am R.fr.uon (A569/M97). If jung had cited other uses of the renn lJrbild, in the Criiiqtu ofl\ml RJJa.wn (d. A317/8374;A569/B597). he could haw: pinned it down to being another tenn for the Idea of God. The archc:type of the understanding seems to refer to the ultimate horiwn that encompuses and totalizes all our partial claims to knowledge. It is the image of absolute totality. One can see whY jung did not play up this aspect of Kant's theory, all it means that there is on.Iy one archetype. Kant himself could have Itretched to three posaible archetypes, inasmuch as there arc three hallie Idcaa: those of Self, World and God. Each of !hese is 'primontial' with regard to its own kind of cognition, and nothing ill to be gained from reducing the first two to the Iaw:r,

35

210

Notes 1m SOU1US

even if they are subordinate to it. The Self represenlS the thought of an ultimate ground for thinking in general; the World represents the thought of an ultimate ground for empirical representation; and God represents the whole of reality or tile lllS n'alWimum (d. A397). Each corner of thill ideal t.riangle is necessary for a full mapping of the absolute. These three Ideas are each distinguished from ocher universal conceplS by virtue of their radically unconditioned namre, which makes them unavai.lable to experience, yet neces.sary as 17!plohve Ideas which guide and constrain our cognitive conduct. The Self, for instance, is an Idea rather than a concept or an empirical inmilion, becaus.e fellSOn demands the representation of an absolute su~ect to which all thoughts can ultimately be attributed, even though it is not possible to prove the exir tence of such a sut:;ect. Kant's Idea of God, on the other hand, does not so much represent the necessitv (or a transcendent creator, but rather 'is a tr.rnscendental ideal which is the ground of the thoroughgoing detennination that is necessarily encoun· tered in everything existing, and which constiunes the supreme and complete material conditiofl of its possibility' (A576/B604). Thill 'material condition of possibility' is a necessarv mought if we ate to integrate the piecemeal knowledge we have of the world, but it is nOl poll6ible to argue from the concept of the: supreme being to me existence of such a being (as the Ontological Argument claims to dol. as we can only say that someming exists when we possess me evidence of empirical intuition. 38 Kant'S ronception of problematic Ideas can in fact be taken in a strong sense, so that at the highest point, it concerns Ideas which are not just beyond experience yet somehow transparently avai.lable for thought, but whose vel)' enunciation ill problematic for thought all weD, becaus.e they cannot be affirmed by an idenlical sut:;ttt. Take the Idea of God. On the one hand, the e"istence of God cannot be deduced from the concept of God, which leaves it a merely regulative idea. But on the other hand, U 300n as we surrender God to the status of a regulative fiction, then we are no longer i'ealIy thinking about God. but about the coherence of our own knowledge. Hence God is an 'impossible', problematic concept in a strong sense. In order to think the Idea of God adequately - i.e. in a way that does not reduce God to an object of knowledge - one must already 'know' him or it. 39 The article in which chis theory is eKpounded, 'The Sexual Theori~ of Children', is written during the period of coDaboration wim Jung. Freud writes that 'It is one of me most v.iI1uable results of our psychoanalytic investigations to have discovered mat the neuroses ... have no special mental content that is peculiar to them. but that, as Jung has expressed. it. they fall ill of the same complexes against which we healthy people struggle as well' (Sf: 9: 210).

Chapter 4: T'b.e World u Symbol 'We ought not to be surprised to learn that OrJung ofZwich balked at some of Freud's conclusions. Instead of rc:laling will to sex, he related sex to will. Thus all unconsciously, he has paved me way for a revival of the old magical idea of me will as the dynamic aspect of the self' (ibid.: 78). 2 In hill 1925 Cornwall Seminar,jung simply talks of 'skulls' and describe! two ceDars 00 top of each other (c!. Jung 1925: 2!). In his 1961 autobiography he writes that there were two human skulk. but does not mention there being two cellars Oung 1961: 183). E. A. Bennet's W1uJt ju.fl{f 1leallJ Said (1966) contains another account again of the 5tOI)'. and it is Bennet's version to which Oeleuze and Guattari refer. Jung told Bennet the story in 1951 and asked Bennet to report that the dreatn was about his own house. 3 All versions also have a slighdy diff~nt account of what happened when Jung told Freud the dream during me voyage home. In me eartiest account, Freud sayt that the dream meant that there were two people thatJung wanted dead and buried (hence the two ceDars). In 1961 Freud is chiefly interested in the two slwlls, andJung had a .!ll:rong sense that Freud was pushing him to suggest a death wish concerning two people. Jung

0

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Notes on Sources ~f

an ultimate

)f an ultimate ~ality Qr the

ens a full mapping {ersal concepu unavailable w

" OUI" cognitive empirical intu-

ct to which all prove the elCis,t so much rependental ideal ssarily eneoun· lplele material possibililll is a Ie of the world, ;) the existence n only say that

..

5

6

.ense, so mat at :e yet somehow roblematic for . Take the Idea .m the concept "' as soon as we really thinking od ~ an 'impo$ea of God ade1.ge - one must

)f Children', is 'It is one of the )vered mat the ilt that, as Jung healthy people

7 ,orne of Freud's I unconsciously, as the dynamic

8

two cellars on "rites that there uog 19tH: 183). 'ain of the story, old Bennet the

9

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.vheo Jung wid lId says that the tied (hence th(' fig had a strong ~o people.Jung

10

211

ol:!iects to Freud on different grounds in each of the lKcounts: in the tint version, he protests that in any case there is a level below the two cellars, and in the second he o~ects that he ill n~ly married and really doesn't have any death wishes at present. Deleule and Guattari do not mention thatJung has a multiplicity of different versions of this dream and of the conversation with Freud. But Jung's inability to remember whether Freud suggested that he had a death wish against his wife or against his parents unforwnately does ,not help prove anything. Deleuze. implicidy takes up this distinction in Diff~ andRilpttition, but reinterprets it within the context of the theory of intensity. 'The sign is indeed an effect, but an effect with two aspects: in one of these it expresses, qt.I4 sign, the productive d.iMymmetry, in the other it tends to cancel it. The sign is of a completely different order to the symbol; nevertheless, it makes way for it by implying'an internal difference' (DR 20, translation modified). We will see how intensive signs 'make way' for symbols first when we lW1l below to Kant's remarks about symbolillm in nature. In Difftmma and ~ Deleuze appears to change his mind about the efficacy of this Jungian critique of Freud. He writei that 'a decisive moment in psychoanalysis occum:d when Freud gave up, in cenain respects, the hypothesis of real. childho~ events, which would have played the part of ultimate disguised teIlllS, in order to substitute the power of fantasy which is immersed in the death instinct, where everything is already masked and disgui&ed' (DR 17). But there is more to this statement than meelJJ the eye. First, Freud changed hiB mind about the role of real childhood events long before he adopted the theory of the death drive (in 1920). WhY. then, is Deleuze correlating this clwlge with the introduction of rhe death drive? As we wiU ace, it tums out that after criticizing Freud's notion of the death drive from aJungian point ohiew, Deleuze later changes his attitude towards it. The theory of the death drive, argues Deleuze, is what allows Freud to move to a purely symbolic theory of repetition: 'Repetition is in essence symbolic; symbols or simulacra are the letter of repetition itself. Difference is included in repetition by way of dkgui&e and by the order of the symbol' (ibid.). Thus the death driYe allows Freud to move to a theory in which sign is transcended by symbols, and fantasy is never reduced to real situations. In other words, Fuud overcomesJung's objection and is ultimately in agreement with him with regard to the notion of the symbol. However, Deleuze's reading is tendentioUll. We. will see that what DeJeu:ze finds in Freud's death drive is almost entirelv what he has himself put there, and in fact he remains much more Jungian than Freudian; hence it is no surprise that he returns to his critique of Freud from Aflti-DetJ.ipus onwards. Deleuze's enthUlliasm for Freud is shortlived, lasting from 1967 (Cc/.d'MSS and C11JLlty) to 1972 (AlIti-~) at the latesL 'The analysis which the literary historian makes of the poet's material is elClKdy com· parable with the methodofpsychoanaJysis' (CW 4: 146). This is said in 1912, whenJung still classed himself as a ·psychoanalyst'. Thi" is reminiscent of Kant'll qualification of the Cartesian ~, which he says really refers to 'an indeterminate empiricaJ intuition' that 1 exist as a thinking being, rather man pointing to an immediate connection between thinking and existence (whkh would allow one to infer that everything that thinks exists) (Kant 1787: 8422). Just as the self is an Idea for Kant, rather than a concept, the symbol is image of somerhing that exists, but whose nature is indeterminate. Certain kinds of psychic material mean next to nothing if simply broken down, but display a wealth of meaning if, instead of being broken down, that meaning is reinforced and extended by all the consdoUll means at our diaposaI - by the W
212

11

12

l~

14

15

16

17

18

Notes on Sources indicates the Old English ~rm 'man', so that werewolf limply means 'wolfman'. Wolves were the most common bel¥t of prey in med.iewJ Europe. In the same way that the sublime threa~ns at each Wiant to overwhelm the imaginalion's act of synthl!llis, the operation of symbolism and gymbolisation threatens at each imtant to overwhelm this other act of imagination which is the schema. So much so that between symbolism and the sublime, there will obvioUIIly be all sorts of echoes, as if they brought about the emergence of a sort of pund Ifim4.I which is irreducible to knowledge, and which will Wlltify to something else in UII beUdes a simple f.lculty of knowing. Feel how beautiful it is. (Ibid.) Of COIlJ."lie. Hegel'. ~ of s"w is perhaps the best-known philosophical example of such a teleological conception of unconscioUII activity. AI; the end or each phenomenological.movement on the winding path to full sclf-t:onscioumeu, a new object 'presents it!lelf to consciOUllDess without its underslanding how Ibis happens' JIO that the dialectic al'Wll)'S proceeds 'behind the back of conaciowness' (Hegel 1807: 56). Qtations are from D. W. Smith's translation of this essay in A~ 5: 3,2000; the second reference is to this translation. 'Our imagination IItriveil to progress toward infinity, while our reason demands absolute totality as It real idea' (Kant 1700: Ak. 250). Deleuze's aim (particularly in the 'Idea ofGenais' essay) is to show that in the CriIifut of.fudpJmt Kant changes his transcendental method from an analfais of the condilions of cognition to a proper genesis of the relalions of the faculties. Deleuze claim.s that Kant had thus already answered the ca1Ill or Malmon and Fichte for a genetic account of cognition which would avoid the f.artuaI, qlJa&i.empirical premises lU]~ by !:he analyses of !:he conditiON of knowledge and practical reason. 'Th~ critique in general ceases to be a simple anutilioningin order to become a ttalUCendental formation, a t:ranilttndent3l culture, a lI'lU\SCeodental genesis' (DI61/62). Delew.e's argument it restricted to following the chain of deductions and geneses in the third CriliqtuJ, but here I fOCl.ll on the phenomenological (in Hegel's sense) aspect of the geneses; that is, the transilions as they tlkeplace in thesubjea (!:he 'formation' or the mO\'allfntof'culture' in the sense of BiltJImf' rather than the genesis as such). Deleuze's lusgcsdon of a 'ttanscendent31 wrore' already implies this phenomenological moment (al!:hough only in Hegel's 5e1llie that a 'for-dtNubject' can be distinguished from 'fQC-U!I' the philosophers). See Norben Aujoulat's LastmlZ: Movenumt, Spaa and TilW for an account, with photographs, of !:he crystal formations at l.ascaux (Aujoulat 2005: 42-7). He writell thai 'the conjunction of these calcite deposits and the aurochs head theme, which is found as many times as this concretion exists in La.scaux (i.e. seven), is quite remarkable' (46). Hearths and lamps were used to illuminate the caverns. Eliade luggellts that streams, g.illeries of minell and caves served initially as symbols of the Earth-Mother (he alerts us to the etymology of the orade at Delphi - 'delph' is Ulerus in Creek). If that is true, !:hen •everything that lies in the beDy of the earth is alive, albeit in a SI2.te of gestation. In other words, !:he ores extracted. £rom !:he mines are in iiOme 'Wll'f embryos:. !:hey grow slowly III though in obedience to some temporal rhythm other than that of vegetable and auimal organisms. They nevertheless do grow - they *grow ripe" in their LeIluric darkness' (Eliade 1956: 42). In !:hese terms, !:he alchemist can be called an accelerator of embryonic development. He accelerated the speed ofdevelopmenl., precipitated the crouing of thresholds, and discovered intensive matter. In Now.I.is's descriplion of the ascent of !:he miners into 'earth's dark womb' in H,;nridt l1t1fI {)jI.mlblglm (Novalis 1802: 19), a hermit tells Heinrich that 'You miners are almOSt astrologers in revene , .. To them !:he &ky is the book of !:he funu-e, while to you the earth reveals monumentll of !:he primeval world' (ibid.: 86). Thesuspended time of the CI"flitalline cavern would no doubt provoke the explorer to wonder if he has found h.imle1£ back inside the womb of the earth.

Notes on SOUfUS 1',

Wolves

he imagi-eaten. at liema,

St>

.u sons of which is besides a

osophical dofeach 58, a new ppelU'SO

l807:56). 2000; the ; absolute Ie t::ntiqw onditiom duuKant

ntofcoganalVJeS cc:a.ses to

~

lSCenden·

ted toful· us on the ISilions lU thesense ;endental

;el'uense th photothat 'the found a.I ble' (46). rnlbobof 'delph'is e earth is

he minOl l.emponl sdogrow. erma, the'~'

,ratedlhe inl.e~

213

Schelling went on to develop the distinction between schema and symbol. A genuine symbol iK a 'representation of the absolute with absolute indifference of the universal and the particular'. In other words, d.arifielI Beach, 'it simultaneoUll.!y represents a particular object or image lIS standing for some universal idea, while it also reprcsenli the univenal idea, in turn, as being concretely active in some panicular o~ect or event' (Beach 1994: ~5). 20 Deleuze poinli out that this why the d.iscuss1on of symbolism occun within a 'Deducdon', 'The problem of a transeendenbl.l deduction is always oqective . , . But if we consider the judgment of the sublime, we am llt:t': th.u no ol:!jective problem of deduction is posed in this regard. The sublime is indeed related to objecl&, but onl]. through a prqecdon of the of our soul; and this projection is immediately possible, because it is directed toward what is fonnless or deformed in the o~ect , .. [Tlhe great difference between the sublime and the beautiful is that the pleasure of the beautiful resull& from the fonn of the oltjeet. Kant saya that this characteristic is enough to ground the necessity of a "deduction" for the judgment of wte. No matter how indifferent we may be to the existence of the ol!ject, there is nonetheless an o~eet in nJmion to whkh, em tht oo:a.rion of which we experience the free harmony of our understanding and our imagination', (D! 65/64) 21 In the French bibliography of Deleuze', writings (published at the end of nt lNJ.sm I.slimd, a coUection of early articles), all texts pllbliahed prior to 1953 arc otnitred, apparently in. accordance with wishes expressed by Delewe prior to his death, An earlier American bibliography containJI a list of an initi3l group of writings, published from 1945 to 1947, when Ddeuze wu in his early twenties (Murphy 1996). These writings are on quite disparate lIuljecta, but themadcally can be grouped under two headings. The first are the somewhat Iibid~ musings on sexuality, centred on a pronounced cult of woman (e.g, 'Descripdon of a Woman'), The second group is composed of two curious artides from 194:6 which are hard to categorize, but which have lIOmething in common: the article on Ma1fBtti and 'From Christ to the Bourgeoisie' was published in the literary journal &ptJtt. and combines C$Ol1':ric, elitist political ideas with a dialectical accoWll of the relationship of Christian 'interiority' and modem capitaliat bourgeois su~ectiyjt;. 22 Caned 'jean' in the French tr.uJsJation; sometimes also caI1ed 'CiOYllDni'. 23 It is not a fWiori a mislake to take a philO!lOphical text written by a twemy-one->yeaJ'Old seriously, There are rare examples of writings by exaemely young philO!lOphers .tudied today in their own right, perhaps the best comparison being Schelling, who produced some extrnordinary and powerful wrilings at the age of nineteen, slill studied d~l\' today by august and bearded philosophers and historians. Schelling's case is more extreme than Deleuze's, as he ceased to pubIiih anything after the age of thin:y-four, and irultead developed hiK ideas solely in lec!l.ll"CS 0YeT the next thirty years. Deleuze, of course, remained a prolific wriler right up until hi& suicide in 1995, at the age of seventy. Deleuze'& motiwtiol\8 in. retraedng hill 'acknowledgement' of these ali. and what in particular he might have wanted to disown, could only be un<:OYC:red through a combination of intelleclUal biography and speculation, 24 PapUII appended a detailed analyaiK of MaIfatti'. MtJtht:ris to his 1894 medical dissenanon L'AlII.lttlfIUt pAiJo.wphitJut rt K$ ~ and in his enauing occult works he continued to refer to Malfatti at crucial poinli. Rcsgio notes that another Martinist, Paul sedir, gave lect1IJ'et on Malfatti at the turn of the centlU'y to the AlIIIIitiIs ~ orpnization in Paris (Regio 20(4). The new edition of AfilMhy tmil H~ for which Deleuze wro~ the introduction wu iJlIued in a limited edition by a smaI1 publishing house, Griffon d'Or, which published boob mostly on occult themes in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War. They published a number of boob on Martinism. The mediCYalist Marie-Madeleine Davy edited a series entitled 'Sources and Fires' 19

,tate

214

Notes 011 Sources

(Sou1m' ee Jewe) for Griffon d'Or. Deleuze had dedicated his article 'From Christ ro the Bourgeoisie' to her, and had attended intdlectual soirees hosted by her during and after me war (atrended by Pierre KlOll.SOW5ki,Jacques Lacan andJ~ Paulhan). In the book. series directed by her are listed a book on palmistry (with a preface by Davy hersel.f), CyriDe Wilczkowski's Man and tile ZDdi&: &say on T~ Syntlte.lu, seleetiOI1ll from Paracelsus,Jean Richer's 1947 book on the esoteric significance of the works of Gerard de Nerval., Strindberg's Ifl.J'er'tw and, rather on its own. Lucien Goldmann's Man, COmmunity and the W()r/d in 1M PkilJJsopll'J of Immanuel Kmu. 25 In Rene Guenon's negative review of the Delew:e-Malfatti volume, he criliciz.es Malfatri's knowledge of the Indian tradition for being based on fragmentary and inaccurate infomwion. As chis tradition was 'little known' dwing the nineteenth century, writen such as Malfatti seem to have been concent to invent a spurious symbolism which made up for their lack of knowledge of the 'aue symbolism' (Guenon 1947: 88-9). Ddeuz.e's approach can be seen as directed agail1llt Guenonism, in !:hat he does not believe that ma!:helis and esoteric philosophy must neutlSariJy be rooted in original, pure tradilions. Mircea Pliade claims that the decline of the occult in France can be partly attributed to the influence of Guenon, so DeJeuz.e's affumaJion ofMalfarri's work, with !:Lis insistence on the relevance of mat1wis for science and philosophy, can be seen as an attempt to rescue OCClIlt philosophy precisely through the affirmation of irs most syncretic tendencies. Guenon had been initiared to a number of occult 'on:lcn' in France (he had been inid:ated into !:he Martinist 'order' before breaking with Papus and departing in 19(0), only to be disappointed with all of them for their synaetism and patchwork of various occult sources, not all of them demonstrably ancient After coming ro the conclusion that the only genuinely alive esoteric tradition of thought and practice was to be found in the East, he became a Mmlim in 1912. He published excoriating critiques of contemporary theosophy and spiriwalism, and in lMO moved to Egypt, where he tived. until his deaJh. He inaugurated an approach to esoteric history which he called 'Traditionalism' and which was founded on the Thntric view of cosmic-historical cycles. The Western world was irredeemably decadent, and had enttred 'Kali fuga', the end of the cosmic cycle, a period charae.terized by dissolution, spiritual anarchy and revolt Nothing could be done to Inerse the process, and the best the individual could do was r«onnecr with properly traditional sources of wisdom or convert to Islam or the IndoTibetan tradioon. 'Guenon denied not only the aumenticitv of modem Western socalled occultism but also the abilitv of any Western individual [() Olnt:aet a valid esoteric organization ... He pointed out that any endeavour to Pl'llctise any of the occult arts represents, for contemporary [Western] man, a serious mental and even physical risk' (Eliade 1974: 66). Guenon', influence led to an increasing emphasis on searching for •pure, traditions, tlhtolved from any charge of syncretism. Guenon is most critical of Malfatti's presentation of the correlation between symbolism and number, which he takes to be arbitrary both in choice and in their ordering: Malfatti has devoted himself [() discovering in the symbolism that he happens to have at hand 'things which are certainly not there'. It is this approach, Guenon suggt.$I.S, which has been unfortunately most influential. Malfatti's work is flawed in exacdy the way that the fitl~occultist tradition is flawed. Occultism relies on inadequate infomwion. strives to overcome traditional interpretations of rytllholism, and conjures up 'an assemblage of rewri~ without the least solidity'. The principaJ interest in !:he republication of the book, therefore. is that we can now refer these occultist vices back to their sou~ce. Cuenon is silent about the young philosopher Deleuzc's altempt ro find philosophical significance in the text in question. 26 The second pan of her Iflitin,tibn Ii 14 roman (originally published as E.uo.i JUT la romtm in 1955) is entitled 'The Royal Road of the Symbol'. She is heavily endebted ro E1iade and Jung's conception of me rytllbol, as well as Husserlian phenomenology. For Eliade. 'the symbol reveals certain aspects of reality - lhe most

s,mbJ.

symho.

27

28

Notes on Sources

217

,rnothing y thought

Ruyer went on to suggest that Bergson's theory of instinct nevertheleas perfectly describes the actual.i2ation of the sexual inlItinct in human. beings. Bergson's argument

'Utta mag-

far the presence of sympathy involYed an invocation of the phylogenetic unily of the wasp and caterpilIar, but Ruyer now claim.s that this unity is mudl better situaled at the level of the egg, the very lim stage of ontogenesis, using the model of embryological con.lciOUSlless. He appea1a to vegeCII hermaphroditism in on:ier to get hiIIl1tnmge idea afloat. The male and t.he female of a dioecious species are two distinct organism8. The male and female argans ofa monoecious species are formed in two regions of the ll3IDe embryo' (Ruyer 1959: 177). Monoecious (haploid) planlll grow unisexual male and female Rowen on different pans of their bodies, while hermaphroditic organWns grow t.heir male and female pans in different regions of the egg. With dioecious (diploid) plano and an.imaIB, Ihe sexually different orpriB llIIStlIDe a spatially dislinct existence in different vehicles (male and female). Ruyer r.ak.es tbia to indicate that between hermaphrodilism and sexual ditTerentialion it ill but a BmalI stq>: the organism divid~ itself into two rebdvely autonomous pam now separaled in space - each of which, nevertheless, in Bergson's words, 'continues the wort of orpni.sarion·.

fIer" Power :nch phe,t before ouf,some mstituted tel', ritual· }40). On 'i Europe names of 1828), for practices !fset with

mode of of other ~(l895)

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Chapter 5: Jag, LeIhDk aDd the DlffereutW UIK:OD8doua lOne of these early worb wall J.Nfmsivt ~ for C1IDImt, written in 18S2 at the height of the Eu.ropean cholera epidemic. In it Fechner pre:sents a series of ingenious prolec· live measures Jar the rampant cholera bacterium in illl !ItnIlIKIe againJt the human species; the work. lWIJ the most popular of Fechner'. worb, running to four ed.ilions (Lowrie 1946: M). The Litt1t Boolc ofLifr fJjt4r /hadI. iJ the only work mentioned by name in Dcleuze's discussions of Fechner. 2 However, he qualifies hill support of Fechner's JXlIIilion by stating that 'this conclusion [the last sentence in the above citation] iJ a little incaulious, because the psychic process remains more or leu the same whether COnsciOU8 or not. A "representarlon" exists not only through its 'representedness', but - and this is the main point - it also emlS in its own psychic right' (CW 166n.). S The fact is that Jung interpreled these 'prospective potencies' in a biZiUTeIy literal manner. He wall not aveIV: to atttibuliIlg premonitory powen to himself either. In Memoria, I>rr4ms (1M &fUditms,Jung recounts, with remarkable ingenuousness, a lito!>' about a demonstration of hill psychic powen in front of Freud. On a visit to Vienna in 1909, he had solicited Freud's views on parapsychology, but had been met with a complete rejection of the whole field. As he listened to Freud's objections. he fell a stnmge llensation in hill diaphragm, all if it wall becoming a red-hot vault of iron. The next moment then: was a loud crad: in the bookcase, and Jung ttiwnphandy exclaimed, 'There, that is an example of a »ailed catalytic exteriori.lation phenomenon'. Come on, Freud retorted, 'that is.heer bosh'. 'You are mistaken, Herr Professor', said jung, 'and to prove my point 1 now predict that in a moment there will be another loud reportl' And lUTe enough, says Jung, another detonation went off in Freud's bookcase. jung commenlll that he knew beyond all doubt that the noise would come. 'Freud only ltared aghast at me', he admits Oung 1961: 179). In a letter to Freud of2 April 1909, directly after the book.oue incident, Jung admib to feeling ,JlllfilMlts tf tA~ about hill 'spookt:ry' with regard to the book.cue. Nevertheleas. he ia adamant that there ill something to it, and proceeds to justifY its possibility in the tenns he wiD later used in t.he ~ from 'fums~and SJIIflds cited above: 'If there ill a 'psychoana.lysill' there mUlt also be a 'psychosynthesis' which create.s future evenlll aa::ording to the lllUIle !awl' (Freud/Jung 1974: 158]). In hill next leW!1', Freud ill certain.Iy none too p1eued about 'the poltergeist business' (139F), but responda by presenting hiJ own speculations on numerical coincidences, with reladon to his fear of dying between the ages of 61 and 62, He condudea 'Consequently, I shall receive further news of your investigations of lhe spook. complex with the interest one accords

218

Notes on Sources

to a channing delu.sion in which one does not oneself participate' (ibid.). 4 Jung uses Sinn or Sinngehalt in such passages. In philosophy since Frege and Husser!, this tenn has often been translated as 'sense', in dislin cDon to Bet:.l.eutung (tr.malated as 'reference'). The English tenn 'meaning' has been held to be too overdetennined and amhiguous, while 'sense' is al&o etymologically clOller to the original Gennan, Frege and Hllsserl clarified this distinction by stating that the Bedeutv.ng of an expression is the thing to which it refers, while the Sinn is the 'idea]' content which is invoked by the expression, and which cannot be reduced to ics reference, 'Sense' allows one to make intelligible how the expressions 'morning star' and 'evening scar' ean continue to be distinguished. even though we now know that both expressions refer to the same ol:!iect. There is no indication that lung was familiar with the work of Frege or Husser!, but I will translate Sinn as '!tense' to avoid confusion in what follows, because in the passages where Deleuze alludes III synchronicity, he uses the French term UIIJ (sense), which has been translated as 'sense'. Although De1euze's ¥ oj &nse could theorea· cally be translated as LogU ofMl!l.I.ning, 'sense' has been used because the Frege/Husser! distinction is important to him. Obviously there is more in Deleuze's use of the concept of 'sense' than there is in Jung's. but I will be suggesting that Deleuze's use is at least compatible with Jung's. While not wanting to put any philosophical weight on this. I see no reason not to translate Jung's 'Sinn' as 'sense' for the pwposes of our discussion, 5 In 'S)'nchronicity' itself,JungargueB that 'natlJJ"allaws are ~truths,which means that they are completely v.LIid only when we are dealing with ma.crophysical quantities' (CW 8: 421). It looks like instances ofacausality will therefore be prim.arily inslarlced at the miaopho;sicallevel. But in Jung's helpful 'Resume' to the work.. included in the English translation of the Jung and Pauli volume, but not published in the Ct>l18t:t.tJd Works,lung simply argues that 'since causality is a ~truth, it holds good onJy on average and thlLS leaves room for ~iJms which somehow be experienceable, that is to say. maL I try to regard synchronistic events ai aclUJlIa1 exceptions of this kind' (lung and Pauli 1955: 144). First, the claim about the statistical truth of causality is not conneeted with 'maaophysical quantities', but with 'averages'. While micropftysical quantities cannot be experiencM, exceptional singular events clearly can. Second, he even stateS straight out that these exceptions must be expenenceable. The reference to quantum indeterminacy gets the essay off to .a bad stan. 6 This passage has an almost exact correlate in Deleuze', Dif/erma and &paiti.on (DR ~). 7 Presumably 'unique Of rare event' really means a unique or rare combination of two or more events. S Kam attributed 'the greatest weight' 1:0 this incident (which took place in 1756), in a remarkable letter to Charlotte von Knobloch of 10 August 176iJ (Kant 1999: Ak. 10: "7) . He look ca.re to have !.he details of the incident confinned III him by a friend who had quearionM those present at the fateful party in Gothenburg seven years before. However, In 1766, Kant published Dmanu ofa Sfmit SIler, a satire on Swedenborg'lI metaphysical speculations, in which he mentioned the same tale again in less elevated tones: 'The reader will probably aik what on earth could have adduced me to engage in such a despicable bu.sinall as that of spreading fairy-tales abroad, which every rational being would hesitate to listen III with patience - and indeed, not merely diAsemina.ri.ng them but acrually making them the su~ect of philosophical investigations. Howew:r, since the philosophy, with which we have prefaced the work, was no less a fairy SIllI'I from the ~landof metaphysics, I can see nothing improper about having them make their appearance on the st2ge together' (Kant 1766: Ak. 2: 356). The relalions between Sweden borg, Kant and lung are discussed in detail in Bishop 2000. 9 Freud finds the reference to the passage in Daniel Sandt-n's WOrIerbtJ.dl der Deut!t:hen spr(U;Jw. The passage is from the twenl}'-eighih lecrure of Schelling's late lecture series on mythology, published posthumously. 10 The contemporary selection of 'key readings' on synchronicity is actually entil.led lung

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Notes on Sources ld Husserl, ansJated as minedand . Fregeand 18ion is the ked by the 11' to mate tinue to be , the same or Husserl, wse in the !IU (seJUe) , Id theoreti~/Hull8erl

he concept e is at least n this, I see sclWion. uc.hmeans quantities' '\Stlnced at ded in the he DJlleded od only on 'ble, that is and' (Jung is not con'sical quan,d, he even ference to ion (DR ~). n of two or

1756), in a \k.. 10: 47). Idwhohad us before. org'smetaatedtones: 1geinsuch onal being ating them

rever, Irina! rvfromthe

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219

Oft s,m~ and 1M ~ it comains an excellent introduction to Jung's writings on sync.hronicily by Roderick Maln (Main 1997). 11 In these experimenb, two $u~eers face each other, while one IUmS up one-by-one a series of twenly..five cards which the other cannot see. There are five sets of five cards, each set bearing a slaT, &quare, circle, wavy lines, or crOll. The other su~ect then bas to guess the symbols as the first one looks at them. Rhine found that some su~ects scored higher than was probable. 12 The model here echoes the model used by Kant from his earliest wrilings. The fact that this model of a 'third' which grounds the synthesis of contingent tt:I1TIlI w:u wnlim.lous in Kant's writings from his early radonalist period through to his critical period is wonh noring here, as any sU1dy ofJungand Deleuze will aL
220

NoUs on SOU1U'$

impenonal will, The will is ultimately undifferentiated; there is only One WID, In his reileclion 'On Death and ils Relation to the Indestructibility of our Inner Natl1re' in the second volume of the The World as Will mul ~ Schopenhauer identifies the IUl:!ieet, laken in ioelf, with this impersoual will: 'The 1 , , , is the dark point in consdousncsa, just as on the retiD2 the precise point of entry of the optic nerve ill blind, the brain itsclf is wholly insenaible, the body of the tun is dark, and the eye 8eeI everything except itself' (Schopenha:u.er 1844: 491). But on the other hand, he also upholdll the dOClrine ofetemal, intelUgible cbaracter, which implies t:bat there is aome fonn of noumenal rlifferenliation between 'l:ypes ofwill',ln the essay on fate, he speculates that 'at the hour of death, the mysterious forces. , . which determine man's eternal fate, crowd together and come inoo action', J-uda$ always will have been Judas beca.u&e he alrea~ was Judas: Ii space bad beffi made for JudaJ in the cosmic scheme of things. 14 The classic discussion ill in the fint letteT to Arnauld, May 1686 (Le:ibniz 1686-7: 72£.). 15 Following Lacan's aiticisms.jean Laplanche argues that Freud '8 postulation of 'a hypothetical initial Slate in whkh the organism would form a dOlled unit in relation to irs surroundings' (laplanche 1970: 70) is incomisk'nt with two fundamffil3.1 Freudian theories: (1) tlutt the first fulfilment ill a repef.ilion of an 'experience of Illtimclion' in relation to an olrjta, and (2) that there is no initial 'idenlity', only a primary ~ Iitm with others, Laca:n and Serge Ledaire teased out two kinds of identification (with me 'ideakgo' and then me 'ego-idea1'), which were already at work in the paper on nare'-ism itself (Lacan 195~: 12'9-42), tacan's theory of the imaginary is an attempt to sort out this ltDlItahle OICilIation in freud between 'monadic' and 'idenlificatory' narciuWn, bv giving the OIIcillation dialectical form. So the reduction ofdoubling and the uncanny to primary narcissisDl in 'The Uncanny' iJ problematit,

4

anoer winds'

Tanlri: spine.

pathWl nature

spinal ~ca.

tries cc a:iCend only Ix symbol

a.plet' 6: '!be Occult UnOOlllldous Rergson hlmllelf ttfeh to Spinola here in the relewnt passage; 'It might be said, by ilightly distoning the tenm of Spinoza., that it is to get back to IUJt1mz ~ that we break away from MtunJ ~ ' (BeflPOll1932: 58), The difference between Bergson and SpinOla here is that there is no 'breaking away' from 'natured ~' (n.at.ure as product) in Spinoza,alI Dew .awNatutuisin itJlelfetemal. Bergson iadea1ingwith finite, temporal ~ce, 10 the bre.alting away from nature all product involves a genuine an.n.iIm with nature: in order to be 'instaJled in the mobiJe ttaJity , , , 10 grasp it intuitively, , . it must do ioelfviolence, reverse the dittclion of the operalion by which it ordinarily think.ll' (Bergson 1908: 190), Normal1y, the mind operates in the lIeMce of adaptation. But when uting intuition, the mind has to tum back on illlelf, do violence to irs intelligence. 2 Very little has been written on Deleuze and Gwuwi's unusual ideas about sorcery. See Lee (200!) andJacquea-Chaquin (1982), Their influence is to be found most powerfully hitherto in the incendiary sufi m)1lticiml of Peter Lamborn WIlson (alta. Hakim Bey), whose writings can be found at www.hermelic.com. also Bey (200~), 3 Guslav Fechner's pantheism also involves the affirmation ofi.nkrior and superior consciousneases. and this may provide the trey to undentanding bow Deleuu would go about n:conciling Bergson and Fechner, who initially appear to be opposed. At the outlIet of F.lImtmtt Dj PS'j(~ Fechner says that the~ ~ two species of psychophyRa: 'inner' and 'outer' psycboph,-sia. Whereaa the oiject of outer psychopb)'Sics is to relate external ph,-sicaJ ltimuli to menial sensations, the o~ect of inner psychoph,-sia is to relate the stimuli of the nervous f)'Iltem In our sensations. His concentration on 'outer psychophysics' a.rises becaU5e he admits that 'it b only this part that is available to immediate eltperiencc' (Fechner 1800: I, 9), In 1800, study of the nerrous system wall in its infancy. But Fechner nevertheless stipulates that '!here can be no development of outer psychophylia without conatl.nt regard 00 inner pi)'chophysies, in ~cw of the fat( that the body's external world is functionll1ly related to

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the mind only by mediation of the body's intema.l world' (ibid.). Once the pouibility of inner psyc.bophysia is taken into account, it ia possible to correlali! the relations beaw:en external and internal OlIlUre in more delail, because one can, .110 Fechner believes, envisage a hierarchy of 'nervous systems', from most &im.plc to ~ mOAt complex, that panlIeil the developmc:nt of types of conscioumesa, to the relatively lIDCOn.sdOUS to the ~ntSS [ ~ ] one can postulate in the case of divine beings. 4 Robert Montgomery IICllteI that 'if one were forced to described the thought of the Later Lawrence in one word, that word would have to be "theosophical~.During the period from Womm in 1.hue to his death, the important new influences on him were theosophical, and his mOllt important writings were balM on ideas drawn from the080phical sources' (Montgomc!), 1994: 168). Lawrence's account of the dwJJlfas ill borrowed from a curious esoteric interpretation of the Book of Revelation, TIuJ ~ ~ (1910) by Jamell P!)'ae, a member of Madame Blavauky's group of The08Ophlsts. .Pryse reads the Book of Revda.tion 'U a veiled lI£coWll of occult anatomy, derived from ancient Th.ntric .IIOun:ell (see Tmdall 1949). For instance, the 'seven breaths' and 'live winds' of John of Paunos are related to the seven lIJtIv(U and five fmmtJs. In Tantrisrn, 'kundalini' dcnolC$ yital energy. symbolized as a Serpem, coiled arolIDd the spine, While this energy initially appears to be sexual, it is able to move up three pathways (ncidis, which Pryse translates as 'pipes' or 'tubes') in the body, changing in nature t i it develoJlll' On the one hand, the NSAumM ill the pipe leading from the spinal cord up to the cra.niwn, while idd and fMgala, corretpOnd to the left and right vertical pathWll)'ll of sympathetic nervous system (Pryse 1910: 19). The gnostic yogi tries to awaken eaclI of the seven tlaaknis or 'nerve centres', which are ammged in ascending order up the spine, The central path of 'serpent power', the susAumna, can only be activated through the creation of polarities betM:cn ida and J1ingoJtJ. which are symboliled 'U moon and sun. Pryse ia happy to call the claaknis 'nerve centres' or 'ganglia', and even suggests that readers of hit work should have a dclailed knowledge of 'psycho-physiology' (6, 15). 'The esotericist, refuaing to be confined within the IllUTOW limits of the senses and the mental faroIties, and recognizing that the gnostic powers of the lIOul are hopelessly hampered and obscured by irs imperfect inst.rulDent, the physical body, d~ himself to what may be tenned intensive self-evolution, the conquest and utilb.ation of all the fol"Ces and faroIties which lie latent in that fontal OlIICnce within himaeIf' (8). 5 Adam Curtis, in his television series 11r.t Cmtury of 1M St!lf, and Eli Zaretllky in his lItUdy TAt ~ oftM Sotd (2004) have shown the role played by psychOllJlalysis in the development of contemponu-y consumer capitalian. In the hands of Freud's brother-in-law, Edward Bemays, psychoanal~ became a tool for the analysis of motivation and the discovery and manipulation of the vulnembilities of workers and consumers. Capitalism saw that psychoanalyais could be UIed for the pI.lJpOlIeS oflIOrcery long before the critia of paychoan.aIysis claimed that it amoWlted to a 'pseudo·.cience'. 6 Citing Starha.wk. Stengers then admits that 'pronoWlcing the word "magic· is already an act of rIllljIic' (Pigna.rre and Stengers 2005: 181), I ch()()lle to take the risk of using the term 'magic' just as wiiChei do take this risk. For them, the very tiu:t of naming what they do as magic is already an act of magic, producing the experience of discomfon which makes perceptible the power over US of the consensual funetiOIll of the lived. And if thosr contemponu-y wite1les took upon themselves to call themselves witches, IJUCh a shocking name, it was in order to produce the living memo!)' of the Tnne of Burning, the desuuetion of the Great An., which did happen at the very epoch when Man as the majority lItIIndard came to impose converging, consensual functions of the lived, explaining away as illusions and supenlilions every active divergence but the three mrviving onell, philosophy, science and an. (Stengel'52006)

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me

me

222 7 Within one year (1732-3), twenty books and articles were published on the .ultject in Gennany. I cite the &Orne of the list from Montague Summers's The V~ mEurope. Dt mastit4lilme nwrluonnn in turmdi.I lWer (Leipzig, 1728); Disserlatio de ~ sanguisugis (lena, 17S~); ~ v.:m dim Va~ oder Mmschemmcgtm (Leipzig, 1732), &stmdert NaehridJ.t v.:m d.men VQfII/1yrm. ~ B l ~ (1732), UiIw It rrpertus iUlfrdie ~1UIIl Va~ (Nuremburg, 1732), ~ de Iwmmibtu post IJItJl'tem ~ vuIp tlictis Vamp,- (Leipzig, 1732). There are lieVera1 more (Summers 1929; 132). Summers cires several works daring bad to the late sixteenth cenwry, and aDo emphasizes the groundbrc.aking work of Philip RDhr in his lJisJ:ertatio de _~ ~ (1679). Michael Ranft, author of De ~ ~m. noted in his later 1734lreaWe on vampires that 'at the last Easter fair in Leipzig it was impossible to enter a bookstore without seeing something about bloodsuckers' (cited in Introvigne 2001: 6011. 8 In Mew's and Garber's cran.slation of t.h.is p;wage. 'enveil.Jl>pe' is tnnslated as 'involve', and in the preceding passage 'E~ is rendered 'enfoldings·. See the Uitmi1 L.exiam (Finster It aL 1988) for a selection of funher examples of 'development' and 'envelopment'. 'Envelopment' is a term that Leibniz tends to use in logie.al contexts, for instance when be cla.ims that 'according to me, [al complete individual notion envelops relation$ to the whole series of things' (Leibniz 1686-7: 69: trans. modified). 9 As he lies dying and unconscious, the hypn0ti5t asks him questions. 'M. Valdemar, do you still sleep?' 'Yes', he responds, 'still asleep -dying: The hypnotist uks him the same question a final time, but at that moment his eyes roD upwards and he dies, As the nunes prepare to administ:t:r to the body, a hidt:ous 'iibration begins ro emanate from hill jaws. The dead M. Valdemar begilU to speak.. and to make a belated reply to the hypnoti&t's final quettion: 'Yes; - no; -I Mvtb«nsleeping-and now-now -lam dead..' M. Valdemar is now caught in this position. hut further efforts at communication with him fail, as if he seemed no longer 1.0 have 'sufficient volition' to speak. 'Death (or what is usually termed death) has been a.rrt5ted by the mesmeric process.' In the course of the next seven months, the hypnotist continues to visit M. Valdemar daily, and fina.l1y resolves that the best coorse of action is to re-awaken him from his hypnotic Hate. As M. Valdt:mar begin& to re'iive, the hidt:ous voice emergu- once more: 'For God's sake! - quick! - quick! - put me to sleep - or, quick! waken mel - quick! - [ SI1lJ to 'JO'U I/uU I am dMId! Just as the hypnotist appears to have succeeded in revi:ring M. Valdemar, his body insread crumbles and rots away within the space of a minute (Poe 1845: 350-9). 10 It was subtitled 'An Astounding and Horrifying Narrative shewing the extraonlinary power of mesmerism in arresting the progress ofdeath'. The advertisement on the Me page read: 'The following astonishing narrative lint appeared in the A1lttritan M~. a work of some standing in the United States, where the C2Se has excited the mo.st intense interest ... The n.a.rra.tive, though only a plain recital of facts, is of &0 extraordinary a nature as almost [0 sUI'Jl3.SS belief, It is only necessary to add. that credence is given to it in America, where the occurrence took pIaa' (Poe 1846). II In his journal of 1971, Guattari writes about his anxieties about being catapulted into fame by A~ He had not published any books before 1972, the year AntiOtd.ifnu appeared., and wrote the following note: 'IRJPC-ible to tum bad:.. Fear because of this diary - that I bavt! been !:aUn roo far. Until now I had an exit, always, some kind of accommodation with the local socius, But widt ~ and Schizophwni4, I have become - I have been - toppled over into what is irreveI'liible' (t;uattari 2006: 3(5). This diarv is intriguing because it begins in Le Bruse:, a toWn in the South of France in Touton Bay, where the Deleuze and Guattm families were staying dwing the summer while A~ was being finalized.. It appears to be pan of &Om.e agreement made with Deleuze; Guatta.ri remarks on the reaction of Deleuze'$ wife Fanny In hU diary while she types it up ('l thought she found it to be in poor taste'). Guattari gOl!!S on to report that he keeps having dreams about 'Lacan and desks'. It ench with

I 12

13

Notes on subject in

Europe.lN mOw san· ojg, 1732),

), Uisw lit inibw JXill ~raJ

more sixteenth Dissmatib

1IOI'tUort.lm.

prig it was ers' (cited , 'involve'. he Uilmi4 nent' and contexts.

Ill1 norion rJodified). iemar. do I the sarne , ea. As the'

nate from othehyp1

dead,' M..

l

with him

or what is il'leofthe

nd finally : Slate. As

od's sake! •yot.I tluJl. I lemar, hill :350-91. aordinary n the 6nl MapUflt'. the mOltt o ex.l:I'aor-edence is

.died into year Anti· k.. Fear it, always, Sdl.~ {Guattari

:beSoulh Igduring Tie agree-

Fanny to

, Guattari ~nds

with

SOUTCeS

223

Lacan 'chasing out some rebels that I had only half followed', and with Guattari con· cemed that 'I didn't know how to go back to his dealt without getting yelled at'. The next day he writes. 'Another dream about Lacanl This is inWle'. Guattari doesn'l attempt to intelpret either dream. In the first, his relation to Lacan is highly ambivalent; on the one hand, he is facing the master behind the desk., but on the other hand he himself ill trying to 'go back.' to Lacan's desk.. Disgu&ted with his unconscioUl, Gualtui concludes t.W!.t 'all this confinns me in my idea that dreams are fundamentally reterritoriali13DOn activities, cotUuration, protection against the most brutal machinic incidence of desire. Fundamentally right-wing ErOlt activities.' After che second dream about Lacan his reaction is more violent: 'I have oedipal rot sticking w my skin ... The more I become disengaged - the more I try to. become disengaged. - from twenty years of Lacano-Labordian comfort. the more this familialist carcass enfolds me seeredy. I would rather admit anything else!' 12 Deleure cites Artaud's writings on cinema 31 a further instance of che descent into the dream in order to capture romething beyond the dream. He exprcaaes his wish to writ(' a fUm screenplay which would ignore knowledge and the logical connection of faclll, and would search beyond. in . the occult and in the uacb of feeling and thought for the profound motives. che active and obscure impul5es of our so-called lucid acts, while always !!l4mtamingtheir evolutions in the domain of sources and apparitions. It is to show how far the scenario can resemble and aDy itself with the IlUCha9tics of a dream without really being a dream itself, for example. It is to show how far it restores the pure work of thought. So the mind, left to itself and the images, infinitely semitised, determined to lose nothing of the inspirations of subde thought, is aD prepared to return to its original functions, its antennae pointed tow:uds the invisible. (Artaud 1928: 6!) In his mort pieee 'Sorcery and Cinema' , Artaud suggests that the ability of fUm to eternaJiz.e movements can be uaed to promote it new non-representational type of thinking. Its images have 'virtual power' that points UI toWcU'ds the 'depdlA of the mind'; 'essentially the cinema reveals a whole occult life with which it puts U!I directly into cont.aet' (Artaud 1949: 66). Raw cinema is opJl'Ollf:d to narntivc cinema, and is suited to expressing a. 'tnrning-point in human thought' that has occurred in late modernity, in which the power of the symbol has been occluded. After this unspecified I11rni.ng-point, 'language loses its symbolic power and the mind tires ofa succession of representations. Clear thought is not enough. It allocates a world which has been utterly consumed' (ibid.). Deleu.ze's whole Cinema project, wich its c~ntral claim that cinema is the means of discovering 'spirituallife' h31 its seed in Artaud's reflections on cinema.. With the help of cinema, in which acton themselves become symbols and no longer (as on the stage) mediate and obscure the symbolic power of the drama, 'we soon realise that this over.familiar life which has l(lIlt aD its symbols is not the whole of life. So today is a time for sorcerers and sainl5, a better time than ever before. An imperceptible substance is taking shape, yearning for light. The cinema is bringing us nearer to this substance' (ibid.). This 'imperceptible wbstance' seenu to be related to the body without organs, an esoteric subtle body which senses acausal sympathies with the world which it inhabitli. Artaud's way of using the dream to reach visionary states is profoundly occullist. He concludes thatdn~ma has the potential to present a 'plastic, oqea:ive and attentive examination of the inner ulfwhich has hitherw been the exdU3ive domain of the "IDuminali". Cinema is a democratization of sorcery; it a.eizes occuIl powen from the hands of magiciaN and sorceren. 13 De Quincey continues; 'The condition of human life, which yokes 80 vast a. rruUority to a daily experience incompatible with much elevation of thought, oftentimes neutralises the wne of grandeur in the reproductive facu.lty of dreaming, even for those whose minds arc populous with solemn imagery.' According to Dc Quinrey. the reproductive faculty of dreanling II inlernaDy I"t'.lllricted by the demands of the present, but to an

'~.

224

NoUs on SOUfUS

almost intolerable degree in industrial.ized .rociety, the noise and speed of which tends to .DIlOther the creative imagination. which requires silence and withdraMl1 to emerge. 14 We shaD see in a moment that I'.hk evaluation is slightly mWeading, as Michaux WllJl indeed intet'eSUd in situating dmg experience within ritual settings. So OeleU2c and Guattm:i are more likdy to be saying that Michaux's approach to the religious lIigni.fi.. cance of drujp WllJl conditioned by a preliminary jrrM/MII with regard to the teXl! and practices of the world religions. Delane and Gualla.ri cite wil.h approvall.he conclusion of the literary biltorian l.aIie Fiedler, whose book TM &tum oj tht Vaflishing A-"mn (1968) set forth 'the poles of the American Dream: cornered between two nighlnl.:l.reli, the genocide of the Indians and the slavery of the bIacb, Americans conslnlcted a. psy_ chically repressed image of the black as the force of affec[, of the multiplication of affects, but a socially repre&led image of the Indian as 5llbdety of perception, perception made increasingly keen and more finely divided, slowed or accelerated' (ATP 28!). By being a sophistieatr:d representative of an already established tradition of re.llearch into drugs, Michaux was able to avoid these traps and gain access, as it were, to the 'drug in itself', the Soma an lich. 15 See the chapter 'Experience de la folie' in M ~ MinJtle (translated as 'Experimental Schizophrenia'). In his book on Michaux, Malcolm Bowie cites a number ofstudies from the 30s to the 50s which worked from the premise that mescaline produced artificial psychoses (Bowie 197~: 193). 16 Mescaline is synthesised from peyote. Many of the drugs as.rociated with shamanism (peyote, ayahuasca. salvia divinomm) are acknowledged to be devoid ofattraction from a hedonistic perspective. 17 It appears to be Michaux who coins the idea of a 'molecular' unconscious: 'Everything in thought is somehow molecular. Tiny particles that appear and disappear. Particles in perpetualassocialiollll, dissociations, reas.rociations, swifter than swift, almost instanlll.neeus' (Michaux 1966: 1~). 18 The authon specify the first eighty pages of this book, which corresponds to pp. 1-61 of the English tranalation. These pages end with the single word sentence 'VISions'. to which is appen
20

21

23 ,

225 ihkh tends to emerge. ichaux was eleuze and ,OUll signifie texts and oondUJion 'Ig Aflltrican lighlJJ:lareS, lCted a psy)Jjeation of >n, percep' aled' (ATP radition of . as it were, ~perimen I' of studies oduced arti-

Everything Particles in ,st instantapp. 1--61 VISions', to

;0

;rench psylxioomanic deOldesof Mith Wle of the actions n

The Fold

nd chloral~ral 'obscu'the play of );lwt noted ith veils of relief. Also, il) in chlo. of minute ) of 'microtennittent' , dgment of :iousness is c'. Halluci15 swann in i&dotl5ness: here in 1m through a

'swarming' ~ of microscopic perceplions which threaten to overwhelm the global contours of appen:eplive conJclOUBness, and which disappear just as rapidly as they arise. Working with chloral and ether addicts had revealed another kind of micro500piC perception beneath global percep£ion of ol:!jec:ts, in which the munnuring badground of perception came to the surface. OerambauJt uses the nolion of 'lilipulian hallucinations' (deri\'ed from Leroy) to describe hallucinations in which the dimensions of o~ects are altered while romenring their relative proportions (250); insects become enormous while people shrink into tininess. In his private life, Oerambault was obsessed with veik and folds and hirI putirlle of composing photographs of women dressed in Islamic coverings were tint aeized upon by psychoanalysts as evidence of • fetishistic tendencies in !heir author. Deleuze opposes !his reading. 'If Oerambault manifests a delirium, it is because he diKovers !he tiny hallucinatory perceptions of ether addiCQ in the folds of clothing' (F 58). 20 In a letter to EnutJiinger, Alben Hofmann, the discoverer of ISD, writes in a similar vein: ·these magic substances are themselves cracb in the infinire realm of matter, in which the depth ofmatter, its relalioll5hip with the mind, becomes particuJarly obvious' (Hofmann 1980: 157). 21 Intensity incteatlC!l along with speed, an intensity revealing and emphasizing the speed already there, a speed now seen as much more considerable !han previously supposed, an intensily which brings to perception the images (and rnicro-impulscs) o!herwiae imperceptible, vague, and remote. The drug ~ the subject conscious of many other l:rlUlsilions and also of desires, which become mdden, violent, lightninglike impubion.. (Ibid.) 22 In his discl.lll8ion of unconscious perception in The 1VJIt.l (F 155 n, 19-20), Deleuze refen to another literary text, a shon piece by Jean Cocteau ostensibly on dreams, but for which the occasion is an 'internal voyage' while on nio-ogen protoxyde (f1roto19d.e II 1lIWl8). Cocteau is administered the drug by a dentist lIlI an anaesthetic. "Doctor, take c:a.re,1 am not asleep', he mutters; 'but the journey begins. It lasts for centuries. I reach the fint uibunal. I am judged. I pass. Another century. 1 reach the second tribunal. I am judged. 1 pass and 110 it continues. At !he founetn!h tribunal I understand that multiplicity is the sign of this other world and unity the sign of ours (Cocteau 1957: 55). On returning to unified conaciousness, he knOW! he must forget everything that he baa seen: 'I see unity refonning. What 11 borel Everything is one'. Cocteau goes on to speculate about !he difference in kind between waking and dream consciousness in general. What strikes him is that the dreaming consclOUBness does not feel astonishment at !he remarkable things teen in dreams, or at the speed wi!h which he can come to 'know' things. Freud borrowed Fechner's insight !hat !he dre2m ill another stage or scene (ean flm.II.t!m &1I4up1a1:.), wi!h entirely different laws to normal cotUcioUtlness. But Cocteau emphasises the normality or 'naturalness' of dream consclousnexs ('the dream ill the sleeper'. nonna! existence', 56). and the regularity of the a1ternalion between waking and dream ('I take advantage of it to live adoub1e life', 57). What is certain is that this enfolding [plitnr],!hrough the mediwn of which eternity becomes liveable to us, is not produced in the same way as in life. Something of this fold unfolds [0uUJtu tIt.asit! diJ ulI# ~ tU/Jlie]. Thanks to this our limits change, widen. The put, the ful:1.l.re no longer exist; the dead rille again; places COtUtnJct themselves without architect., without journeys, without that tedious oppression that compels US to live minute by minute that which the haIf-opened fold us at a glance. Moreover the aIDlospheric and profound lighb\estl of the dream favoun encoWlten, surprises. knowledge [r.DtIMWlJrIUS], a namralnexs, which our enfolded world (I mean projected on to the surface of a fold) can only ucribe to the supernatural. (57; tnmB. modified) 23 see Oda.vio Paz's preface to Miserable Mi'nJdI!: 'Battered by the gale of metealine, sucked up bf the abstract whirlwind. the modem Westerner finds ab60lutely nothing to hold

s,

mows

... .=.

226

Notes on SQurces

on to. He has forgotten the names, God is no longer called God. The Aztec or the Tarahumara had only to pronounce the name, and immediately the presence would descend, in all hs infinite manifestations. Unity and plurality for the ancients. For us who lack gods: PuUulation and TIme. We have lost the names' (Paz 1967: x). 24 Michaux had an intense interest in magic and occultism. See his 1941 collection 'In the' Land of Magic' (from which Deleuze dtes a prose poem about the 'twenty-tWO folds' of human life (Michaux 1968: 24~~ cited in F 93); as well as The Mojm l>rtUia/s oflht Mind itself, which ends with disquisitions on Tantrism, inspired by The SerpentP_by Arthur Avalon (John Woodroffe). Michaux W3S the editor of Hermes, a journal of religious and esoteric ideas in the late 19308. The reference to !he 'paradises' afforded by drugs may thus refer not only to Baudelaire's essay on Artifidal ParodistlS, but alw further back to the alchemical use of the symbol of the 'tree of life' (which can allude to itJl psy. chotropic properties). In a passage that is like a numbed, a thousand-times repeated. recollection of James's anaesthetic revelations of pantheism, Michaux ingenuoush insists that he has indeed seen 'gods in their thousands': The incredible, thatwhich I have desperately desired since childhood. that which was apparently excluded and which I thought I would never see, the unparalleled, the illilccessible, the excessively beautiful, !he sublime which W3S forbidden me, the incredible has occurred. I HAVE SEEN THE GODS IN THEIR THOUSANDS. I have received the gilt of wondennent.. They have appeared to me who W3S without faith (who did not know the faith of which I was capable). They were there. they were present, more present than anything else I have ever seen. And it W3S imp<Jli&ible and J knew it was impoNible and yet. And yet !.hey were there, lined up in their hundred.& next to each other (but behind them were thousands, barely (X:rceptible, and there were many more than thousands, there was an infinite number). They were there. these calm and noble beings, suspended in !he air by an apparendy natural fonn of levitation, in gende movement where they stood. These divine beings and myself were alone together ... I had not lived in vain. (Michaux 1964: 57) The poet frequently discusses his work. as an ex.ploraaon of 'magical' or religious states of reality. According to Michaux's gnostic ¥ision, we are all 'prisonen', possessed in flashes by the desire to find m~s of stonning heaven: for 'prison displayed is prison no longer' (cited in Ben 1994). Michaux also thought of writings as 'exorcisms'. and even as maledictions or curses, caUing his work 'poetry for power'. Something like 'magic' W3S needed in order to countenance !he '~or ordeals of the mind', a gen~ of magical writing which would 'ward off the surrounding powen of the hoslile world', so that 'evil is progressively d.is&olved, replaced by an airy demoniC ~phere', which he informs us, is 'a marvellous state!' (Preface to Ordeals, Exomsms; in Michaux 1994, 83-4). 25 In The Mojm Ordlal& t'! the Mind, Michaux describes a long-held interest he had in taking 'cannab~ indica at high altiwde'. where he could contemplate a mountain skyline. He prepares himself over a (X:riod of days, and then consumes the substance. However, he miscalculates the time while he is having dinner, and by !he time he ventures out into the landscape, it is night, and the mountains have disappeared in the darkness SW"rounding the remote location. Dismayed. he has no idea what to do. At length, he rai.sa his head up to look up at the night, and he feelll h.iInself sinking into the black sky full of scars. 'It was extraonlinary. Instanlaneously stripped of everything as though of an overcoat, I passed into space. I was projected into it., I was hurled into it, I flowed into it. I W3S violendy seized by it, i.rresistably . . . An utterly unsuspected marvel ... Why hadn't I known of it earlier? After the fil"5t minute of surprise, it seemed altogether natural to be borne off into space' (Michaux 1960: 92). Whether by design or not, MiChaux has replicated the conditions for the witch', flight: hemp, a mountain-top, and a night full ofstars. Michaux's experience here is notjust similar but perhaps eYen identical with the witch's flight.

~

7J;" '''::i.;o

~"":~::;

27

ec or the ce would !:S. For us

'In the f£llch' of 'lAtMmd In

I

lyArthur pousand
lundreds lnd there :re there. ~ fonn of Id myself l>US slateS

.sessed in is prison lIDS', and hing like , a genus Ie world', which he IlIl(

1994.

in taking .yUne. He wever, he • out into mess sur· ,he raises :k sky full 19b of an ,wed into

... Why Iwgether n or not, lwo-top,

lapseven

t

Notes tm Sources

227

26 The original founder of what became known as Maninism, Martines de Pasqually, instituted a secret society devoted to rheurgic ritual under the influence of the fly agaric mUllhroom. 27 Deleuzc's opposition to masochistic humour and sadistic irony is based on Kierkegaard's distinction between humour and irony, which is in tum endebled CO Hegelianism. In the PhilDsopky oj Right, Hegel had written that the subject reaches the position of irony 'when it &1WI'lIS itself a! that power of resolution and decision on [matters of} truth, right, and duty' (Hegel, PhilDsopirJ oj Right, # 140). nut when '5tJbjet:. livity tUclam i&lf to be absolflJi, this 'ironic position' becomes dialectically idenlicaJ with evil. 'It is not the thing [Saclll] which is excellent, it is I who am excellent and master of both law and thing; I ~ plt.ltJ with them &Ii with my own caprice, and in this ironic corulciollme~ in wbich I let 'the highest of things perish, I mmly tnjDJ mfJII1if.' Kierkegaard initially developed his m!unction between irony and humour by reference to a Danish Hegelian,J. L, Heiberg, who chara.c.terized humour as 'content overreuhing the current fonn' wherelly content is 'enriched ... lly forcing IlB to see anomalies we hadn't seen before' (Hannay 2001: 59). Rather than the m~ect extra.cting hi.m.aelf from the empirical domain through appeaJing to an aJways higher. abstract principle of su~ectivity, the act of humour involves following the law t.o thllSter in order to subvert it. The transgression of law is procured through an exaggerated fidelity to the Law. It accepts that there is no other choice but to conform to the constraints of the law, but pursues an idiosyncratic project through legitimate c.hannelll, aJways conceaJing its clandestine end, in the expectation that any general laws are too universal to have fully a.crounled for every eventuality. Humour thUII seeks the last beyond even the 'superior' laughter of irony. But the last laugh is not at all bitter, because it also signaJs the triumphant achievement of its c1ande.uine goal._

14.

Bibliography

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