The Other Side of Rationality

Desire in the Social System


Geoffrey Samuel



1. Introduction

Since some of you may be unfamiliar with the work of Deleuze and Guattari, a brief introduction may be useful. Deleuze and Guattari are two French scholars from contrasting backgrounds who came together in the early 1970s to write several works in collaboration, the best known being the two volumes jointly entitled Capitalism and Schizophrenia. The first of these, Anti-Oedipus, appeared in 1972; the second, Mille Plateaux (A Thousand Plateaus) in 1980. [1] Both volumes and a shorter work, Kafka: Towards a Minor Literature, are now available in English. [2]

Deleuze, the older of the two, came to his collaboration with Guattari after a distinguished previous career in academic philosophy, which is admittedly a rather broader discipline in France than in the English-speaking countries. His earlier publications include books on Hume, Kant, Francis Bacon, Bergson, Spinoza, and perhaps the most significant in relation to his later collaborations with Guattari, Nietzsche. Guattari's background was in psychoanalysis, specifically of the Lacanian school. His work has affiliations with that of the group of British anti-psychiatrists centred around R.D. Laing and David Cooper. His own writings are mostly short and explicitly political; a collection has appeared in English under the title Molecular Revolution. [3]

This political dimension, which tends to be implicit and relatively muted in Deleuze's earlier work, is a strong component of Deleuze and Guattari's joint works, Anti-Oedipus and A Thousand Plateaus. Anti-Oedipus was written very much in the light of the radical turn of French politics in 1968, and the book contains a powerful attack against structures and hierarchies of any kind, whether of the right or the left. In attacking "Oedipus," Deleuze and Guattari are only partially concerned with criticizing Freud's theory of the centrality of the Oedipus complex to human psychology. Their real target is the myth of the inevitability of hierarchy and authority. Oedipus is the symbol of the countless varieties of `micro-fascism' which we accept through uncritical participation in the structures of power in capitalist society.

Note that for Deleuze and Guattari, as contrasted with, in particular, Foucault, it is the patterning of desire that is primary rather than the distribution of power. This does not indicate a retreat from `objectivity' to `subjectivity'. Deleuze and Guattari's aim is precisely to achieve an "external" view of how the patterning of desire makes up what we conventionally call the personality and treat as an attribute of the human subject.

In fact the difference with Foucault would seem to have more to do with strategy than with objectives. Politically Deleuze and Guattari, in the early 1970s at least, were close to Foucault, who wrote a laudatory foreword to Anti-Oedipus, describing it as "an introduction to non-fascist living". [4]: However while Foucault's own work runs some risk of leading to a kind of passivity and hopelessness in the face of dominant power-structures, Deleuze and Guattari are concerned throughout to look for the points of weakness in the prevailing structures, the "lines of flight" which offer possibilities for change and movement. Here "desire" seems a more promising starting point than "power":

Deleuze and Guattari's emphasis on the "lines of flight," the "escape-routes," is particularly strong in A Thousand Plateaus, a work which should be seen in the context of the rightwards turn in French politics in the 1970s. There is a tendency in some quarters to regard "postmodernism" as a withdrawal from political engagement to passivity in response to this rightward move. [6] Leaving aside such questions as how useful a label "postmodernism" is, and whether it can be appropriately applied to Deleuze and Guattari's work, I think it is clear that political passivity is the opposite of their explicit intention.

One thing which Deleuze and Guattari do have in common with other French theorists who fall under the general label `postmodernist' – Lyotard, Foucault, Derrida, as well as feminist theorists such as Kristeva, Cixous or Irigaray – is a highly critical attitude towards "grand narratives" of any kind, towards what Deleuze and Guattari in A Thousand Plateaus refer to as the "tree" model for the book. Such narratives are seen explicitly as social constructions and as usually closely linked to the dominant political order and those who benefit from it. (This already suggests points of contact with anthropologists problematizing the classical ethnographic narrative with its implications of authorial omniscience, completeness and integration.)

In place of the "tree" Deleuze and Guattari suggest the "rhizome"; the multiply connected, interpenetrating underground network of growth without any centre, one of the central images of A Thousand Plateaus. [7]To create such an alternative mode of knowing – or assemblage of modes of knowing – the place to look is among those who are marginal to the established structure and poorly integrated within it:

From this point of view the specific concepts introduced by Deleuze and Guattari cannot have (and are not intended to have) the kind of authoritative status claimed by our currently taken-for-granted concepts. They can only serve as examples of what the authors refer to as nomad thought, thinking that operates outside the conceptual structures endorsed by and supportive of the established order. [9] Deleuze and Guattari's classic example of nomad thought is, not surprisingly, Nietzsche, who is a very prominent figure in their work. However nomad thought is only one term out of a series of opposed terms which Deleuze and Guattari use to try to specify where they stand and where the problem with the system lies. Nomad thought is contrasted with the philosophic discourse which is born out of the imperial state, just as the war machine of the nomads is contrasted with the mechanisms of the state, and the rhizome is opposed to the tree as models for knowledge and for the book.

The attitude towards theory that goes along with this is well expressed by Deleuze in a dialogue with Foucault dating from 1972:

A corollary to this kind of approach to theory is that the usefulness of a concept can be measured by the extent to which it leads to productive and critical reformulations of our standard ways of viewing a particular issue. What I want to do in the rest of this paper is take a number of central ideas from Deleuze and Guattari's work and see how they might contribute to critical reformulations and rethinking within social anthropology. I shall consider two main topics, (i) the nature of the self and (ii) the nature of the State. I begin with the first, and with the new mode of thinking about human consciousness which Deleuze and Guattari claim in Anti-Oedipus to have learned from the schizophrenics.


2. Deleuze and Guattari On Consciousness and On the State

To speak of Deleuze and Guattari's analysis of consciousness already causes a problem, since while Freud undoubtedly gives us an analysis of `consciousness,' what Deleuze and Guattari present in Anti-Oedipus and its sequel can less clearly be referred to in that manner. However for the moment I retain the term `consciousness' as delimiting, if not unproblematically, an area of study.

`A schizophrenic out for a walk,' Deleuze and Guattari tell us on page 2 of Anti-Oedipus, `is a better model than a neurotic lying on the analyst's couch.' How far the collage of quotations from Büchner, Beckett, Schreber, Michaux, Artaud and others which follows actually generated the structure Deleuze and Guattari claim to derive from it is maybe a moot point, but the structure itself is worth serious consideration.

Its basis is the production of desire, seen as taking place through an assemblage of so-called "desiring machines"; mechanisms, that is, which direct, interrupt and rechannel the organism's flows of energy. We already see here Deleuze and Guattari's characteristic emphasis on movement, on flow, on flux. Flows indicate the possibility of movement; stable personality structures suggest stasis. In practice, as Deleuze and Guattari are well aware, being a schizophrenic in this society is no kind of joy-ride. However the schizophrenic's experience provides the basis for a more fluid account of psychic processes than the experience of those who have been more effectively incorporated into the normative psychic life of contemporary capitalist society.

After the production of desire, seen in terms of the desiring-machines, follows the recording of desire, the process by which we become aware of what we do and do not desire. From the point of view of the schizophrenic subject, what happens can be interpreted as desire being mapped or recorded as a distribution of intensity across an imaginary surface. This surface is referred to by Deleuze and Guattari as the `body without organs' (a borrowing from Artaud).

The meaning of the parts of our body and of the world with which it is organically connected are not pre-given, but produced, and they can be represented as a grid superimposed on the primordially featureless surface of the body withut organs. This process is also the production of good and evil, and of the divine and demonic, which correspond to differently valorized parts of the distribution.

It is only at the third stage that the subject appears, by a kind of backwards projection from the patterning of desire; if that's what I want, then this is what I must be. [11] Here we move from the actions and passions characteristic of Stage I to the sensual pleasures, anxieties and pains of the subject at Stage III – in contradistinction to our normal mode of conceiving the situation, which starts from the pre-given subject. The subject is actually defined on the periphery (how we interact) not at the centre (what we are).

It is clear from Anti-Oedipus and A Thousand Plateaus that the conventional subject for Deleuze and Guattari is part of the problem, because the subject ties us into the pregiven world. Here, again, the picture of consciousness which they offer is far more fluid and open to change than those we are used to.

The structure of the self, and its variability across cultures, has of late become a topic of some significance in anthropology, so that Deleuze and Guattari's ideas on this self provide a natural starting point for considering the relevance of their work for anthropologists. [12] I don't have space here to follow in any detail the ways in which Deleuze and Guattari's approach intersect with current approaches by anthropologists, although it seems clear to me that Anti-Oedipus gives us a model of the `self' that is both more able to accommodate the variety of understandings and concepts we find in non-Western societies than is the conventional Freudian approach, and more sophisticated than most of the home-grown models suggested by cultural and symbolic anthropologists and their critics. [13]

Deleuze and Guattari's analysis of consciousness, as one might expect, is linked to an analysis of the way consciousness operates in society, in fact in a range of different kinds of society. In Part 3 of Anti-Oedipus they consider the "primitive" territorial machine characteristic of the small-scale preliterate societies so well known to anthropologists. In such a society all the flows of desire are coded, territorialized, and given meaning, on the basis of the two principles of alliance and filiation. The "primitive" territorial machine maintains both the exercise of power and the potential of commerce to liberate and `deterritorialize' flows under strict control.

The `despotic state' involves a gradual break-up and `overcoding' of this primitive territorial machine, but this in its turn is replaced by a new order with the growth of capitalism. In this new order the flows of desire are liberated from territorialization but subordinated to a new `social axiomatic' characterized by money, `a general equivalent [which] represents an abstract quantity that is indifferent to the qualified nature of the flows.' [14] The person now becomes private, detached from direct participation in the political order and subjected through the floating images of the media to a whole host of new artificial `reterritorializations' based on regionalism, nationalism, local identities, racism, religion, or whatever.

There is something rather Durkheimian about Deleuze and Guattari's treatment of preliterate societies, which is perhaps not surprising given their heavy reliance on French and British anthropological sources. Some familiar names from the British tradition, such as Meyer Fortes and Victor Turner, feature quite prominently. One point which is less conventional is the emphasis on the way in which these societies are not simply pre-state but anti-state, and operate to restrict the concentration of power and the destructive potential of commerce. [15] Here they are close to the French anthropologist Pierre Clastres, to whose work, in particular Society against the State, [16] published shortly after Anti-Oedipus, Deleuze and Guattari pay homage to in A Thousand Plateaus. [17]

Deleuze and Guattari's scheme is not particularly evolutionary, and it becomes markedly less so in A Thousand Plateaus, where a key opposition is developed, mainly in the 12th and 13th sections or "plateaus," between the State, seen in terms of centralization of power but also of being static, sedentary, concretized, stable in all kinds of senses, and the "nomadic war-machine," which is moving, creative, open and liberating. Here they are in fact not talking necessarily about real nomads or about real war. The nomadic assaults on the State serve more as a paradigm of a type of process that may be manifested in contexts as diverse as Taoist mysticism in mediaeval China or the women's movement in modern Western society.

Deleuze and Guattari's primary concern is again with the processes of structure and stasis and the countervailing processes of dissolution and change, seen as operating both in consciousness and in their political consequences.

Those of you who have heard some of my papers over the last few years will probably recognize how closely all this resonates with some of the central themes I have been exploring. What Deleuze and Guattari specify through the "nomadic war-machine" is very much what I have attempted to specify through the figure of the "shaman". [18] In addition their material fits very neatly onto my Tibetan material, with its pervasive oppositions between the wild Easterners and State-bound Central Tibetans. [19] More generally I think there are possibilities here for thinking about politics and consciousness, "agency" and "structure" in quite new and useful ways. However rather than follow this up in detail – I don't have the time today, nor do I feel that I have got far enough with A Thousand Plateaus to undertake a substantial application of Deleuze and Guattari's concepts at this stage – I'd like to turn in the remainder of the paper to look at some of the areas in which Deleuze and Guattari's approach conflicts with traditional anthropological approaches.

3. An Anthropological Case-Study: Deleuze and Guattari's Critique of Gregory Bateson

Here perhaps we can best see what is at issue by looking at a specific case; their critique of the work of Gregory Bateson.

An important aspect of the Deleuze and Guattari model, and one which it shares with some anthropological models, is that it involves a move away from seeing the self in terms of some kind of inner core, with various properties associated with that core, and towards defining the subject in terms of relationships to other subjects. This move from the intrapsychic to the social is part of Deleuze and Guattari's general strategy of insisting upon the exteriority as against interiority. However it also provides an essential precondition for an analysis of the human subject as a social phenomenon.

A major precursor for this move from the `inner' to the `outer' was the anthropologist Gregory Bateson, who would have been familiar to Guattari in particular through his double-bind theory of schizophrenia. [20] In the early 1940s Bateson was already reinterpreting the areas referred to by terms such as "personality" and "ethos" in terms of the patterning of relationships, work which incidentally led to the Balinese `plateaus of intensity' borrowed by Deleuze and Guattari for the central structural concept of A Thousand Plateaus. [21] In the 1950s and 1960s he was working on his famous and controversial theory of schizophrenia as a communicational disorder. [22] However Bateson's own later work, and particularly that of his followers, led to the kind of systems-theoretical analyses of communication which Guattari attacks in the essay `Towards a Micro-Politics of Desire':

Guattari's real objection to systems theory approaches to communication in this passage is that ultimately they serve the interests of the state rather than the interests of human beings, since there is no longer any basis for preferring one communicational pattern to another. [24]4 Deleuze and Guattari agree with Bateson in rejecting the conventional human subject, but they are equally opposed to dissolving the subject into a mere exchange of information. Such a theory will no longer do the job for which it is intended.

In Anti-Oedipus, Deleuze and Guattari cite Bateson as an example of how scientists are inhibited from effective political opposition by their absorption of the assumptions of the capitalist state:

This is a little unfair to Bateson, who had a remarkable degree of self-awareness about the role of science in maintaining the military establishment and human oppression, but Deleuze and Guattari undoubtedly have a point. Bateson frequently fell prey to the seductions of abstract intellectualizing, even if he generally saw through his systems before they became too solid. And as for politics, I have considerable sympathy for the kind of Taoist ecological mysticism found in Bateson's late writings, but he gives us very little idea of how to get from here to there. Bateson's splendid memorandum to his fellow-members of the Board of Regents of the University of California, written in 1978, a couple of years before his death, had a touch of absurdity as well as more than a little irony. It was never very likely that the University of California would stop designing and building nuclear weapons for the United States Government as a result of Bateson's words. [26]


4. Rationality, Science and "Desire"

The challenge Deleuze and Guattari pose for the social sciences thus centres on the linkage they construct between theory and politics. In insisting that theory be useful, that it be a tool-box which will serve the purpose at hand, they provide a criterion which, one has to admit, most contemporary social-science theory meets much less well even than Bateson's work.

I suggest that a major problem here is the whole question of science and rationality. It is something of a cliché to note that the social sciences, in the English-speaking world in particular, have become fixated by the scientific model – meaning, essentially, the model of 19th-century physics and biology. The dominance of quantitative, statistical and other mathematical methods, and of modes of analysis whose primary virtue is that they can be treated by these methods, is a symptom of this fixation, aggravated by the tendency of administrators and funding bodies of all kinds to themselves favour such research. The systems-theory rewrite of Bateson's work is in its way an example.

Anthropology is in a somewhat anomalous situation here, because the analysis of symbolic and conceptual systems has itself become such an important part of the anthropological enterprise, and often goes along with a degree of relativism towards the claims of the scientific model. There has been a kind of split in the discipline between those – sociobiologists, scientific Marxists, Popperians, cultural materialists or whatever – who present their work as "scientific," and those who prefer to reject the scientific model altogether and to conceive of anthropology as a primarily hermeneutic exercise. This, for example, seems to me to be where most of Clifford Geertz's more recent writings end up.

There is something wrong about this either/or – either we produce an objective science on the good old 19th century model, or we retreat into hermeneutics – but the problem is not easy to resolve. It can be seen in an especially acute form in the work of those theorists who attempt to hold onto both sides, the `scientific' and the `symbolic'. [27] Two examples are Maurice Bloch and Dan Sperber, both of whom advance models in which rationality and symbolism go on simultaneously but separately. [28] One can see Bloch and Sperber's problem: if `symbolism,' `ideology,' and cognate matters are allowed to infect rationality, what happens to one's claims to be scientific? Both Bloch and Sperber react by, in effect, walling off the symbolic or ideological within a cordon sanitaire where it can be safely allowed to act without risk of polluting the `rationality' of everyday life. In Bloch's case the antecedents are Marxist and the result is basically another variant of the familiar base-superstructure model.

Now the `symbolic' and `ideological' in this discussion in fact fulfil the same role as Deleuze and Guattari's desire. They label the aspects of social life which won't fit into the paradigm of goal-ordered rationality allegedly needed for proper scientific analysis. Consequently Deleuze and Guattari's remarks in Anti-Oedipus apropos of attempts to maintain a Freudian analysis of the human subject parallel to a Marxist analysis of society are very much to the point:

If the system is immediately invested by desire, rather than investment [30] being a by-product of psychic processes whose real dynamic is internal to the subject, then we cannot treat the system and its rationality independently from the desire that calls it into life.

The immediate context of this discussion in Anti-Oedipus is the question which Deleuze and Guattari draw from Wilhelm Reich and Spinoza before him: "Why do men fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?" Why did the masses want fascism? [31] In a more general form, this is one of Bloch's questions too, and Deleuze and Guattari's objection also applies to Bloch's answer, which is that the working class were (and are) mystified by ruling-class ideology.

Neither Bloch nor Sperber were prepared to let desire (symbolism, ideology) constitute the rationality of the system directly, because in this case different patternings of desire could generate different rationalities, so running the risk of a relativism which would threaten the scientific respectability of the system. [32] However the cost of restricting desire to a subjective and derivative attribute of individuals is serious, and Bloch has to postulate that social change depends on people somehow `seeing through' ruling-class ideology to a direct and unmystified perception of what is really going on, which Bloch refers to as `common-sense'. One only has to look at the ways in which common-sense assumptions in practice support and validate the structures of power to see that something is seriously wrong here.

This is what I meant by referring to desire in the title of this paper as "the other side of rationality". If we attempt to conceal and euphemize the operation of desire, it will return to plague us, perpetually investing every attempt to create a pure, objective rationality, a "common-sense" which cannot be mystified by ruling-class interests, and the like. By admitting the presence of this desire and bringing it into the light we can begin to understand the constant interplay between what we are as human beings (and even scientists are human beings!) and what we are able to perceive, to experience and to "theorize".

In fact Bloch's `common sense' is very difficult to square with modern developments in the philosophy of science, which seem to me to provide much more support for the coexistence of a variety of rationalities structured by different patterns of libidinal investment. Physics has after all come some way from the positivism and empiricism of the 19th century, even if social scientists continue to reproduce discredited modes of theoretical discourse.

I have argued for this position at some length elsewhere. [33] Rather than pursue that line of argument on this occasion, I will conclude by pointing out that the clash of arguments I have been discussing is of a kind which may well become more familiar as the social sciences move to meet the challenge posed by so-called `postmodernist' thinkers. A paradigm is offered by Jürgen Habermas's critique of Jean-François Lyotard, discussed by Peter Dews in the introduction to his collection of interviews with Habermas. [34] Here Lyotard corresponds to the radical postmodernist camp whereas Habermas represents a more traditional position, which Dews in fact supports.

I have to admit to finding Dews' arguments for Habermas against Lyotard unconvincing. Most of them boil down to Lyotard's refusing to recognize the careful sets of distinctions by which Habermas attempts to defend the unity of rationality against the dissolving effects of relativism. [35] `For Habermas...,' Dews writes, `it is not the universality of philosophical truth-claims which is to be abandoned, but rather their non-fallibilist aspect.' [36] In Deleuze and Guattari's terms, Habermas is clearly opting for the tree, not the rhizome. Acting undoubtedly with the best of motives, he seeks to secure the foundations of official thought against the nomad hordes at the gates.

That nomad thought has its risks cannot be denied. Nietzsche's legacy, as manifested in the works of Deleuze and Guattari, as in those of Lyotard and Foucault, is an ambiguous one, but it does at least have the merit of making it clear that there is little point in sitting around and waiting for the revolution. The revolution, if it happens, is an everyday struggle, in which our own relationship to society is a key zone of conflict. That may be an uncomfortable position in many ways, but it allows some scope for discerning `lines of flight' and moving along them, and perhaps that is about as much as we can hope for.



[1]:   For a detailed bibliography cf. Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaux, translated by Brian Massumi, University of Minnesota Press, 1987, pp.579-85. Return

[2]:   Anti-Oedipus, translated by Robert Hurley, Mark Seem and Helen R. Lane, New York: Viking Press, 1977, rpt. London: Athlone Press 1985; Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature, trans. Dana Polan, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press 1986. Return

[3]:   Cf. Guattari, Molecular Revolution: Psychiatry and Politics, translated by Rosemary Steed and introduced by David Cooper. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1984.Return

[4]:   Michel Foucault, `Preface,' Anti-Oedipus, xi-xiv. See also `The intellectuals and power: a discussion between Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze,' Telos 16 (Summer 1973), 103-9.Return

[5]:   Anti-Oedipus, p.257. Cf. also pp.29-30.Return

[6]:   E.g. Peter Dews, `Editor's Introduction,' in P. Dews (ed) Habermas: Autonomy and Solidarity: Interviews with Jürgen Habermas, Verso 1986, esp. pp.32-33.Return

[7]:   Cf. especially pp.3-25.Return

[8]:   Guattari, Molecular Revolution, p.84.Return

[9]:   On nomad thought see in particular Gilles Deleuze, `Nomad Thought,' in David B. Allison (ed) The New Nietzsche, New York: Dell Publishing, 1977, pp.142-9; Thousand Plateaus, pp.376ff.; Paul Patton, `Conceptual politics and the war-machine in Mille Plateaux: the new cartography.,' in SubStance 13,3/4 (1984): 61-80.Return

[10]: `Intellectuals and Power,' p.104.Return

[11]:   On the illusion of the self, compare Alex Comfort, I and That: Notes on the Biology of Religion, New York, Crown Publishers, New York (1979), esp. pp.12ff.Return

[12]:   Paul Heelas and Andrew Lock (ed), Indigenous Psychologies: The Anthropology of the Self, Academic Press, London, 1981; Anthony J. Marsella, George DeVos and Francis L.K. Hsu (ed) Culture and Self: Asian and Western Perspectives, Tavistock, New York and London, 1985; Michael Carrithers, Steven Collins and Steven Lukes (ed), The Category of the Person: Anthropology, Philosophy, History, Cambridge University Press, 1985.Return

[13]:   See in particular Maurice Bloch, `The past and the present in the present,' Man (n.s.) 12,2 (1976), 278-92, and Dan Sperber, Rethinking Symbolism, Cambridge University Press, 1975, and my dicussion of these authors in my Mind, Body and Culture: Anthropology and the Biological Interface, Cambridge University Press, 1990, pp.30-43.Return

[14]:   Anti-Oedipus,, p.248.Return

[15]:   Anti-Oedipus, pp.152-3.Return

[16]:   Society against the State, Basil Blackwell, Oxford 1977.Return

[17]:   Anti-Oedipus, pp.357-9.Return

[18]:   E.g. in Mind, Body and Culture.Return

[19]:   See my Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies, Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, 1993, and particularly `Gesar of Ling: shamanic power and popular religion,' in G. Samuel and E. A. Stutchbury, Tantra and Practical Religion, Aditya Prakashan, New Delhi, 1994.Return

[20]:   Cf. Gregory Bateson, Steps to an Ecology of Mind, Paladin, Frogmore, 1973; Paul Watzlawik, Janet Beavin and Don D. Jackson, Pragmatics of Human Communication, W.W. Norton, New York, 1968. Communication.Return

[21]:   See the earlier papers reprinted in Steps. For the `plateau' cf. A Thousand Plateaus, pp.21-2.Return

[22]:   Papers in Steps; see also Carlos E. Sluzki and Donald C. Ransom (ed) Double Bind: The Foundation of the Communicational Approach to the Family. Crume and Stratton, New York, 1976.Return

[23]:   P.89. Guattari refers specifically to Watzlawick et al.s' systematization of Bateson's ideas in Pragmatics (see above).Return

[24]:   Though cf. Anthony Wilden's attempt to build a politically critical theory on a base derived inter alia from Bateson and Lacan in his System and Structure, Tavistock 1972.Return

[25]:   Anti-Oedipus, p.236.Return

[26]:   Reprinted as `Appendix: Time is Out of Joint' in Mind and Nature: A Necessary Unity, Fontana, Glasgow 1980, pp.231-9. For Bateson's late ecological writings see also Steps, especially Parts IV and V; Gregory and Mary Catherine Bateson, Angels Fear: Towards an Epistemology of the Sacred, Macmillan, New York, 1987.Return

[27]:   One has to be wary of terms here; e.g. my `symbolic' (following the most common usage in anthropology) is equivalent to Kristeva's `semiotic,' not her `symbolic'. The discussion here is a condensed version of that in Mind, Body and Culture, pp.30-43.Return

[28]:   'The past and the present'; Rethinking Symbolism.Return

[29]:   Anti-Oedipus, pp.28-29; italics in original.Return

[30]:   'Investment' corresponds to `sublimation,' `cathexis' in the English Freudian vocabulary, cf. note on p.9 of Anti-Oedipus.Return

[31]:   Anti-Oedipus, p.29.Return

[32]:   I don't attempt to argue this point in detail here. Cf. Mind, Body and Culture, pp.41-3.Return

[33]:   Mind, Body and Culture.Return

[34]:   Dews, op.cit. For another discussion of the Habermas-Lyotard debate, see Robert Ulin, `Critical anthropology twenty years later.' Critique of Anthropology 11,1 (1991), 63-89.Return

[35]:   Dews, pp.22-26.Return

[36]:   Dews, p.26.Return

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