This is a thesis that a friend gave to me, she got her doctorate in philosophy with this thesis. It has lots of ideas from Jean Luc Nancy, Gilles Deleuze, Felix Guatarri and Michel Foucault to name a few.
I haven’t read it properly yet, but just thought I would share it for future interest.
Just found this Routledge Critical Thinkers book about Lacan, maybe it will come in handy for Derrida in particular.
Barbican Art Gallery has invited conceptual documentary photographer and Deutsche Börse Photography Prize winner Richard Mosse to create an immersive multi-channel video installation in the Curve. In collaboration with composer Ben Frost and cinematographer Trevor Tweeten, Mosse has been working with a new, powerful telephoto military camera that can detect the human body from a distance of more than 30km and accurately identify an individual from 6.3km, day or night. He has used this technology to create an artwork about the migration crisis unfolding across the Middle East, North Africa and Europe. Narratives of the journeys made by refugees and illegal migrants are captured by this thermal camera which records the biological trace of human life. Projected across three 8 metre-wide screens, the video installation is accompanied by a visceral soundtrack blurring ambient field recordings with synthetic sound design to create an overwhelming, immersive experience.
http://www.barbican.org.uk/news/artformnews/art/visual-arts-2017-richard-mosse
Panopticism or what? :exclamation: :sick:
Don’t be fooled by the title of this thread, I hate the performative actions of discipline and punishment from the state. What is of interest however, given the recent Trump exiling of illegal migrants, is that there is a difference between saying ‘I am against immigration, something ought to be done’, which is a performative statement (a statement that does something) and how we deal with immigration.
Sending migrants back to their countries always leads to lots of heart break, it can be problematic for the economy too. The main phenomena that is of interest here, is how some are beginning to regret endorsing Trump to perform these actions.
It reminds me of Michel Foucault’s Discipline and Punish and his genealogy of capital punishment. Capital Punishment was not stopped in France because of how inhumane it was on behalf of the criminals, but rather, the jury sympathised with the executioner, executioners often suffered from post-traumatic stress due to their grueling duties and this is what is happening now that people can see where their performative utterances are leading to.
Following quotes from: http://www.iep.utm.edu/emp-symp/#SH4b
That was what the so-called special intervention groups [Einsatzgruppen] had to do. In addition, it is difficult to watch people suffering over so long a period of time, especially if you have insufficient bullets to shoot or gas them all immediately. This is a challenge for any approach to genocide, even after the intended victims have been marked with a yellow star or otherwise “branded,” equated with vermin, insects, and dehumanized. On the street, people still look like humans when we confront them face-to-face or even face-to-back.
The misuse of the Nazi concept of duty, which only superficially resembles a deontological one, has been often noted. It occurs again here and should never be mentioned without being challenged. Briefly, the fallacy consists in making an exception for a subset of humans, thus contradicting one’s own humanness. Even formally, the good Nazi morally contradicts himself – a consistency in shooting only one or a few types of persons (in addition to Jews – gypsies, communists, Catholic converts, gays, mentally retarded, physically disabled – the list grows tellingly) – is inconsistency pure-and-simple.
This is a form of what I call inverted empathy where duty comes before conscience.
Thus, the supposedly empathic Nazi spends the day shooting the helpless enemies of the Aryan race and feels a full measure of suffering (of the victims), because his mirror neurons are working normally; but instead of saying “Look how they suffer” says “Look how hard my work is – look how much I suffer.”
How do you think we form the self?
Is it a process of affirmation, or negation? In other words, do we declare through inclusion and desire, stating ‘I AM’, or do we declare through exclusion and limitation, stating ‘I AM NOT’?
Strictly speaking, we include and exclude simultaneously, but I personally believe we form through knowing our limits, that is, through negation.
Nietzschean affirmation, which says ‘yes’ to everything, is an acceptence of limitations as it has the limit of everything in this world, there is no outside of this world, no beyond this world and so negation doesn’t seem possible, given where he sets the boundary.
More specifically, the title should read ‘Why Anarcho-Capitalism can’t function for very long’.
There are two types of An-Caps, there are those who want no state at all in favour of personal pusuit of profit, unfettered by law and regulation, then there are those who call themselves Minarchists – a ‘slim state’. There’s also the misreading of ‘voluntary exchange’, which is invariably interpreted in a similar way as ‘mutual exchange’ (if I give you X, I get Y, which is of equal value). This definition misses the profit motive of capitalism and exploitation, not to mention a sneaky way of hiding coersion.
Anti-State Anarcho-Capitalists
The problem with no state and capitalism, is the protection of private property – property rights and laws that the state executively enforces to back up claims of property. Without the state to guarantee property conventions, currency value and stocks would be too uncertain, confidence would be non-existent and it wouldn’t take long before gangs and mobs begin to take over. We are talking about a fast-track route towards Monarchy, which would be the person, or corporation that accumulated the most property and then makes everyone else their subjects. Or, you will have many competing gangs and mobs of private armies and security firms, as this will be the only way to ensure value of property. We would also expect to see a rise of landlords who would rent property to those who are outside of these factions, basically, we are talking about a slave system, debt-slavery, Tsarism and worse.
Minarchists
This term does not have to exist. We already have a term for this economic practice, it’s called Classical and Neo-Liberalism. When An-Caps figure out that currency is worthless without the state, they switch to this concept in no time at all. It’s like fighting for fresh air to be breathed each day, or staring an activist group for people to walk with their feet – it’s already bloody happening!
Those who advocate Anarcho-Capitalism, fail to understand exactly what capitalism is and the importance of the state to ensure property and law that protects property is fundamental to capitalism.
As they are not being actively read in a group in the Reading Zone section, I am uploading them here so that everything can be located on the forum.
Here is a copy on Derrida from the Routledge Critical Thinkers Series, I haven’t read it myself, but it’s supposed to be an excellent introduction for those new to Derrida. Who wants to read it with me?
I have opened up a new sub-forum here for reading groups. I am the moderator for now. Please feel free to join, just let us all know if you are joining in and we will bring yu up to speed on page numbers etc.
You may have to switch to a browser to view this video if you are using Tapatalk.
[vid=MP4]https://ontic-philosophy.com/videos/how-i-picture-derrida-foucault.mp4[/vid]
It may be best to pause the video to read what is on the screen.
So, after reading this: https://ontic-philosophy.com/attachment.php?aid=53 I would like to say that I percieve Differance as Kether in Kabballah. Namely:
Derrida’s notion of differance may be likened to the notion of time-travel: when considered in the abstract it is interesting and meaningful in the sense that one can talk about it, but when considered in the concrete it is unintelligible.
I read something of Crowley that describes the state of Ipssimus in the same sense, Crowley in many ways ‘demystifies’ religion, if you read him carefully enough, he plays a few tricks that many will attach metaphysics to that are always from beyond this world, but Crowley never evoked and philosophy is rife throughout his texts, lots of leg pulls too. His theorums are talking about intentions as magic, intentions of this world.
Anyway, enough of Crowley, that’s just me trying to define what I have read so far.

In Spinoza’s naturalistic and monistic metaphysics, matter and mind are
two attributes of the one substance, and everything can be understood as
corporeal, as well as mental1. Looking at nature in its corporeal
attribute, ultimately everything is made up of simple bodies which “are
distinguished from one another by reason of motion and rest, speed and
slowness” (Ethics II.L1). A composite body or “individual” is a “union of
bodies” formed when a number of simple bodies “are so constrained by other
bodies that they lie upon one another, or if they so move … that they
communicate their motions to each other in a certain fixed manner”
(II.A2”). Thus a human body, for example, is in fact a composite of many
layers of smaller bodies, bound together ultimately by proportions (ratio)
or patterns of movement and rest. There are composites of composites, and
so on to infinity: indeed, “the whole of nature” (which is to say, “God”),
is “one individual, whose parts, that is, all bodies, vary in infinite
ways, without any change of the whole individual” (II.L7).
Spinoza says that two bodies agree with one another if they could come
together to form a sustainable composite body, i.e., they would not
destroy one another (III.P5) if so joined together . The opposite of
agreement is to be of “contrary nature”: two bodies of contrary nature
cannot form a composite body, as they would destroy each other. Mutual
destruction sets out the negative limit case of disagreement. At the other
extreme, in the ideal case: “we can think of none more excellent than
those which agree entirely with our nature. For if, for example, two
individuals of entirely the same nature are joined to one another, they
compose an individual twice as powerful as each one.” This is the ideal
human community in which all “so agree in all things that the minds and
bodies of all would compose, as it were, one mind and body” in which “all
strive together, as far as they can, to preserve their being” and seek
“the common advantage of all” (IVp18s).
But while here Spinoza cites the human community in general as an ideal,
he also recognises that some human bodies can agree more than others (IV
appendix VII) – and indeed some people “may not agree at all” with a
particular individual’s nature. Between the two limit cases of mutual
destruction and perfect union, we can suppose a spectrum of alliances in
which bodies agree or disagree more or less well. These are relations of
bodies of different but in some sense complementary natures – thus, for
example, the human body needs food, and also forms of affective and
spiritual nourishment (IVp45s), which it can only get through contact with
external bodies of various kinds. In general, we can say, two bodies are
in agreement to the extent that a relation between them increases their
power; or in disagreement to the extent that it decreases their power,
weakens them.
Now we need to think about what Spinoza mean by power (potentia). There
are two main ways in which Spinoza understands and explains this term.
First, a body’s potentia is its “power of acting” (III general def; IIID3;
IIIp54, IIIp55, and more …). Spinoza also uses the term “a greater or
lesser perfection” to refer to a body with more or less power: “insofar as
we attribute something to them which involves negation, like a limit, and
end, lack of power, and so on, we call them imperfect” (IVpreface).
Spinoza famously defines joy as “that passion by which the mind passes to
a greater perfection”, or increased power, with sadness the corresponding
affect of decrease (IIIp11).
An affect, in fact, is just “an affection of the body by which the body’s
power of acting is increased or diminished is increased or diminished,
aided or restrained, and at the same time, the ideas of these affections”
(IIId3). There are two kinds of affects, called “actions” and “passions”.
An action is where the body itself is what Spinoza calls an “adequate
cause” – or as some contemporary commentators write, the “complete cause”
– of this affection or change. That is: “its effect can be clearly and
distinctly perceived through it [alone]” (III.D1). A passion, on the other
hand is the affect we experience where our own body is only a “partial
cause” of a change, in conjunction with other bodies.
Nature (or God) as a whole, considered as one infinite composite body, is
always the adequate or complete cause of its own affections2– they are
all actions. Smaller bodies such as ours have finite, limited, powers of
acting, and are often acted upon: “we are acted upon when something arises
in us of which we are only the partial cause, that is, something which
cannot be deduced from the laws of our nature alone (IV.P2).”
Can we then say, simply, that a body’s power to act is greater the more
that body is independent of, unaffected by, other bodies? It is impossible
for a human body to be completely independent of the external world –
indeed, “there are … many things outside us which are useful to us, and on
that account to be sought” (IV.P18s). But perhaps, within these limits, we
can aspire to an increasing attainment of independence.
In the second sense of potentia, it is equivalent to a body’s “conatus” or
“striving to persevere in being” (IIIp7), its “force of existing” (III
general def). Conatus is the essential motion or activity of a body, which
the human mind experiences as the basic affect of desire. All activity or
motion of a body, insofar as it is in fact acting, rather than being acted
upon, can be seen as an expression of this basic striving to maintain
itself (III.P7). In fact this sense of power is closely tied to the first.
The link is Spinoza’s proposition that “no thing can be destroyed except
through an external cause” (III.P4). An independent body, which is not
acted upon by others, will never be destroyed. To increase one’s
independence from other bodies, then, is to increase one’s ability to
persevere.
Being acted upon is, then, the source of danger to a body. But it is not
always a bad thing. Some encounters with other bodies are harmful to us
and threaten destruction but, as we saw above, some encounters with other
bodies are useful — that is, they actually increase our power to act
(independently). This is what we experience when we feel joyful passions.
The aim, then, of Spinozist ethics is not an unattainable complete
independence and immortality, but, as it were, to maximise the body’s
independence within finite limits.
These limits are defined by a body’s nature or essence. To become more
powerful is to live more in accord with one’s own nature. Through reason
we come to understand our body’s nature, learn to form relations with
other bodies which agree with one’s nature, and avoid encounters with
bodies which are harmful to us. “No one … avoids food or kills himself
from the necessity of his own nature” (IV.P20). Those who appear to harm
their own bodies are really being acted upon by external causes, whether
obvious or “hidden”.
Essence and proportion
What is the essence of a body? Recall that a complex individual body such
as that of a human is a composition of many layers of sub-bodies, right
down to the simple bodies which are distinguished only by their “motion
and rest”. The essence or form of any composite body is the organisational
structure of this composition. As Spinoza puts it: “that its parts
communicate their motions to each other in a certain fixed proportion
[ratio] (IV.P39)”. As commentators such as xx have pointed out, by ratio
here we really need to understand something more than a proportion of
quantities, the composite body’s form here is the complex and
multi-layered characteristic pattern in which the “motion and rest” of its
many component parts is arranged. To say that two composite bodies agree
then means: their forms harmonise and reinforce each other, allowing their
characteristic patterns of motion and rest to continue in being. When two
contrary bodies meet, on the other hand, their characteristic patterns are
in disharmony, and the encounter results in at least some of their
structuring being altered or destroyed. And thus: “those things are good
which bring about the preservation of the proportion of motion and rest
the human body’s power have to each other” (IV.P39).
Though, of course, we are far too ignorant of the workings of complex
human bodies to perform such, as it were, micro level analyses for real.
Rather, we have to work with a macro understanding of bodies and their
relations: we know from our experience, and from applied reasoning, that
certain (complex) bodies are useful or harmful for each other. That is: we
see that a relation between two bodies leads to one or other being
empowered or destroyed.
Now, on the micro level, we can see Spinoza as holding something like a
principle of conservation of energy (or of “simple bodies” in motion). For
a composite body to be destroyed means for its parts to be reorganised,
perhaps scattered and separated. The motion of these simple bodies is
redirected, the ratio which holds them together is broken.
Note that a body may persevere despite certain changes: for example, it
might grow by adding more simple bodies in such a way as to maintain the
body’s proportions or structure. Or, as we have seen, it may change in
certain ways so as to increase or diminish its power (IV preface). Such
changes leave untouched the ratio of its components. But if changes are
such that a body’s essential ratio is transformed, that body can be said
to be destroyed. For a composite body to cease to exist is the same as for
it “to be changed into another form” (IV.P20s). When a human body dies,
for example, the simple bodies which comprise its matter disperse and are
absorbed into new bodies. “For example, a horse is destroyed as much if it
is changed into a man as if it is changed into an insect” (IV preface).
Now we can try to understand the idea of “conatus” or the striving for
self-preservation in this context. It is not, in fact, that a composite
body is always striving to persevere: some bodies do in fact do things
that harm themselves. The point is that a body strives to persevere
insofar as it acts, rather than being acted upon. And its striving to
persevere is a striving to remain unchanged as a composite body, with the
same essence or form. Sometimes a body strives to persevere (i.e., acts,
is led by its conatus) and sometimes it moves in other ways which may
threaten to harm its composition (i.e., it is acted upon by external
bodies in ways which diminish its power). To say that a body is powerful
is to say that it tends more towards the first alternative. So we can now
understand a series of Spinozist equivalences: power = acting = striving
to persevere (conatus) = maintaining essence.
We can ask a further question: why, or when, is a body more likely to
follow its conatus? What determines whether a body acts or is acted upon?
Again, it might help to examine this question at the micro level of simple
bodies. To say that a composite body strives to maintain its form is to
say that the simple bodies which compose it continue to move in accordance
with the essential ratio or pattern. Why should they do so? Here we touch
on highly contested areas in Spinoza scholarship, but I will sketch a
possible answer. Spinoza’s account of bodies is based on a principle of
inertia: a simple body will continue to move in the same way until it is
re-directed by an encounter with another body (II.L3). A composite body
can be viewed as a complex dynamic system, and the essential ratio is then
a certain pattern of motion which holds as a more or less stable
equilibrium. The stability of a dynamic system means its ability to resist
perturbations or “shocks”. If some encounter with an external body throws
the system out of balance, will it return to this equilibrium pattern, or
will it break down or fly apart? Conatus, on these terms, could be taken
to stand for stabilising — indeed, homeostatic – tendencies or properties
of the system.3
A body will persevere, then, so long as its conatus is strong enough to
re-establish the form of its component bodies after a harmful encounter.
In a harmful encounter, the motions of Body B’s components interfere with
or disrupt the motion of Body A’s components, disturbing the system as a
whole. In an encounter between bodies which agree, on the other hand, the
motions of the two bodies’ reinforce each other, supporting the systems’
inherent stabilising forces.
4. Nietzsche contra Spinoza
Nietzsche sees his thesis of will to power as a rebuttal of Spinoza’s
theory of conatus. “A living being desires above all to vent its strength
– life as such is will to power – : self-preservation is only one of the
indirect and most frequent consequences of it (BGE13).” The error here,
says Nietzsche, stems from “Spinoza’s inconsistency”.
Why “inconsistency”? Nietzsche does not expand on the point, but we can
build on the discussion above to suggest an interpretation. We can start
by noting the considerable agreement in the two theories. Both are
theories of the composition of bodies, in which a complex body such as
that of a human individual or group is a composition of many smaller
bodies or forces. In Nietzsche, we saw these sub-individual parts as,
primarily, the drives, with their activity. In Spinoza, the ultimate
components are “simple bodies”, with their motion. In both theories, we
can understand the activity of a complex body by paying attention
(although, all the while, acknowledging our ignorance) to the micro-level
relations of these smaller components. The nature or activity – and the
power, in various senses — of the complex body is effectively an outcome
of its internal structuring or composition, as well as of its encounters
with external bodies. While Spinoza and Nietzsche define power quite
differently, we can also note another key parallel: for both, the powerful
body is one that acts, and does so, in some sense, independently from
determination by outside forces.
With almost all the elements then in place to arrive at the theory of will
to power, Spinoza’s error, for Nietzsche, is to exaggerate the importance
of self-preservation in the dynamic life of bodies. It may well be that
many bodies are composed in such a way that they evidence tendencies or
“strivings” towards self-preservation.4 But, even so, conatus is a special
case which we can explain as arising from more general principles
governing the complex dynamic systems which are bodies. Spinoza’s
over-statement of conatus is inconsistent with his general understanding
of these principles.
There is a further point which we might read as implicit in Nietzsche’s
critique of Spinoza. Not only does the privileging of conatus create an
internal inconsistency in Spinoza’s system, and serve to hide the
centrality of will to power, but it also prevents Spinozism from
accounting for the transformation – or, we might say, the evolution – of
bodies. If a body’s power is defined in terms of its ability to keep its
form unchanged, such a concept of power cannot help us to understand how a
body can be trans-formed.
Even without stepping outside of Spinoza’s terms and objects of inquiry,
this appears to create some problems. For example, how can Spinoza
understand the transformative growth or maturation of body that ages? At
one point (IV.P39s) the theory of conatus leads Spinoza to a curious
discussion on human growth: as the forms of infant and an adult humans are
so different, growing up seems like a kind of death, and “no reason
compels me to maintain that the body does not die unless it is changed
into a corpse.” Spinoza then breaks off the discussion rather than
“provide the superstitious with material.”5 But if maturation is a problem
for Spinoza, he might have more problems still to understand evolutionary
change in biological lineages of bodies, or, perhaps, dynamic change in
social or political bodies. Accounts of transformative change cannot be
given in terms of conatus.
For Nietzsche, will to power plays the role that conatus cannot. In the
first place, it provides an adequate general principle for the dynamics of
bodies and their encounters. Furthermore, it enables an account of the
transformations or becomings of bodies. But, I will maintain, at least if
we conceive will to power in terms of domination, both these claims are
questionable.