**Note: The citation for this text is at the bottom of the blog post

Chapter 2.9: The Process

Deleuze and Guattari begin this section by reiterating their earlier thesis: there is no difference, in nature, between neurosis and psychosis. They articulate:

Between neurosis and psychosis there is no difference in nature, species, or group. Neurosis can no more be explained oedipally than can psychosis. It is rather the contrary; neurosis explains Oedipus. (AO, 130)

However, if indeed there exists no difference between the two, “how do we conceive of the relationship between psychosis and neurosis?” (AO, 130; emphasis mine). The answer to this question hinges solely on whether psychosis is perceived as the process itself or the interruption of the process. To clarify, we must first discuss schizophrenia. Deleuze and Guattari characterize and define schizophrenia as a process — a process termed “desiring-production”; yet, this production appears to operate at the limit of social production (which is determined by the parameters of capitalism).

Deleuze and Guattari explain:

Schizophrenia as a process is desiring-production, but it is this production as it functions at the end, as the limit of social production determined by the conditions of capitalism. (AO, 130)

To make clear, desiring-production encounters interruption; it is constrained by limits imposed by capitalism. This interruption or boundary represents “our very own ‘malady,’ modern man’s sickness” (AO, 130). Capitalism positions itself as the culmination of history, imposing a limit on social production. (“The end of history has no other meaning” (AO, 130)). However, within the framework of social production, capitalism schizophrenizes (utilizes schizophrenia/is schizophrenic) by displacing the limit of social production; capitalism pushes the limit of social production further back, constantly positioning itself at the end of history. Though capitalism schizophrenizes, it never reaches the point where social production discards capital. In capitalism a limit always remains; but for the schizo, there is no limit.

Therefore, we can acknowledge the differentiation between neurosis and psychosis, but we must be aware of how these terms are understood.

• Neurosis = acknowledges the limit and remains within its confines.
• Psychosis = acknowledges the limit and finds pleasure in transgressing it.
• Schizophrenia = acknowledges no limit.

Moreover, Deleuze and Guattari elucidate how capitalism’s process of schizophrenizing, characterized by pushing the limit of social production further back, mirrors the progression of social production going to “the very extremes of its deterritorialization” (AO, 130–131). However, unlike capitalism, the genuine extremities of this deterritorialization displace the boundary, fostering a “metaphysical production that carries desire along with it and reproduces it in a new Earth” (AO, 131).

In this context, the schizo recognizes no limit:

The schizo carries along the decoded flows, makes them traverse the desert of the body without organs, where he installs his desiring-machines and produces a perpetual outflow of acting forces. He has crossed over the limit, the schiz, which maintained the production of desire always at the margins of social production, tangential and always repelled. (AO, 131)

The schizo, acknowledging no limit upon social production, “has made departure into something as simple as being born or dying” (AO, 131). Yet, Deleuze and Guattari find the schizo’s departure to be stationary. From my understanding, Deleuze and Guattari are highlighting that the schizo is deeply rooted in the present experience. The schizo lives in the same reality as everyone else; despite hardships, the schizo is joyous, embracing experiences without imposed constraints or a name designating an ego.

Deleuze and Guattari use elusive language to describe the journey of the schizo, finding the schizo’s journey to be like that of Zarathustra:

These men of desire — or do they not yet exist? — are like Zarathustra … Such a man produces himself as a free man, irresponsible, solitary, and joyous, finally able to say and do something simple in his own name, without asking permission; a desire lacking nothing, a flux that overcomes barriers and codes, a name that no longer designates any ego whatever. He has simply ceased being afraid of becoming mad. He experiences and lives himself as the sublime sickness that will no longer affect him. Here, what is, what would a psychiatrist be worth? (AO, 131; emphasis mine)

Karl Jaspers and R.D. Laing

At any rate, Deleuze and Guattari commend Karl Jaspers and R.D. Laing for their efforts to confront the widespread tendency to pathologize mental illness in psychiatric discourse. Specifically, they aimed to dismantle the familial basis — the reductionist notion that all desire is framed within the context of the nuclear family — of psychoanalysis.

On this point, Deleuze and Guattari cite Laing’s book, The Politics of Experience and The Bird of Paradise, which explains how schizophrenia may be that of a breakthrough rather than a breakdown. Ego-loss, for Laing, is often discarded as madness, yet he isolates that this experience of ego-loss ought not be viewed as an inferior status. Laing writes:

[Future societies] will see that what we call ‘schizophrenia’ was one of the forms in which, often through quite ordinary people, the light began to break through the cracks in our all-too-closed minds. . . . Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be breakthrough. . . . The person going through ego-loss or transcendental experiences may or may not become in different ways confused. . . . But to be mad is not necessarily to be ill, notwithstanding that in our culture the two categories have become confused. . . . Our sanity is not ‘true’ sanity. Their madness is not ‘true’ madness. . . . True sanity entails in one way or another the dissolution of the normal ego. (AO, 131–132)

In his writings, Laing challenges the normative understandings of madness and sanity, suggesting that these concepts are constructed socially rather than absolute truths. It is here that Laing recognizes madness might be something produced by society rather than something innate. One important element to note here is the footnote. Deleuze and Guattari cite Laing, but they do mention that this analysis is closely related to Michel Foucault’s work La folie, l’absence d’œuvre, in which Foucault argues that society may have no true idea of what madness really is: “madness and mental illness are ceasing to belong to the same anthropological entity” (AO, 131, Footnote).

Turner’s Paintings

To continue, Deleuze and Guattari discuss a metaphorical “visit to London” in order to visit Pythia (AO, 132). In this visit, Deleuze and Guattari discuss J.M.W Turner’s artistic works — specifically, Turner’s paintings ranging over three distinct periods of his life. Deleuze and Guattari write:

If the psychiatrist were allowed to speak here, he could talk about the first two, although they are in fact the most reasonable. (AO, 132)

In the first period, the canvases depict end-of-the-world catastrophes such as avalanches and shipwrecks (as seen in Figure Six). This marks the beginning of Turner’s artistic journey.

In the second period, the paintings are “somewhat like the delirious reconstruction, where the delirium hides” (AO, 132). The paintings in this period, according to Deleuze and Guattari, are parallel to the techniques of Poussin, Lorrain, or Dutch traditions. Paintings akin to this second period are described as:

The world [being] reconstructed through archaisms having a modern function. (AO, 132)

Here, “archaisms” refers to particular elements of motifs from previous eras, like that of ancient of primitive times, characterizing these works as a a blend of past elements with modern techniques. As seen in Figure Seven, Turner’s painting is that of a romanticized and idealized view of the Roman Colosseum. Turner is utilizing elements of a previous historical era while incorporating a contemporary perspective.

Then, something unexplainable occurs in the third period. Deleuze and Guattari explicate:

The canvas turns in on itself, it is pierced by a hole, a lake, a flame, a tornado, an explosion. The themes of the preceding paintings are to be found again here, their meaning changed. The canvas is truly broken, sundered by what penetrates it. All that remains is a background of gold and fog, intense, intensive, traversed in depth by what has just sundered its breadth: the schiz. (AO, 132)

In these paintings, the observer finds it challenging to clearly distinguish the elements depicted; as the borders of the painting blur, and everything melds into a state of being “mixed and confused,” a significant breakthrough occurs — not a breakdown. In Figure Eight, vibrant hues cascade inwards as profound colors collapse in on themselves. These colors are entwined with the stark contrast of a black paint stroke, hinting at elusive contours. Amidst this interplay emerges the enigmatic presence of a train.

How could one possibly invoke a Kleinian interpretation of this painting? Does the train represent Daddy? … Of course not.

Anglo-American Literature

Deleuze and Guattari continue by praising Anglo-American literature regarded as non-conforming:

From Thomas Hardy, from D. H. Lawrence to Malcolm Lowry, from Henry Miller to Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, men who know how to leave, to scramble the codes, to cause flows to circulate, to traverse the desert of the body without organs. (AO, 132–133)

In a way, these authors are reminiscent of a (pre-)psychedelic era — with their works being understood as a break from the typical capitalist lifestyle; (Personally, I am quite a fan of Ginsberg and Kerouac). Deleuze and Guattari note that these authors (very literally) displace the limit upon social production and shatter the capitalist barrier — but they only do this to an extent. “They fail to complete the process, they never cease failing to do so” (AO, 133).

For Deleuze and Guattari, the authors listed above fail to break from the neurotic impasse:

The neurotic impasse again closes — the daddy-mommy of oedipalization, America, the return to the native land — or else the perversion of the exotic territorialities, then drugs, alcohol — or worse still, an old fascist dream. (AO, 133; emphasis mine; we will be reviewing these points)

Let’s examine each instance provided by Deleuze and Guattari, explaining why these Anglo-American authors struggle to transcend the neurotic impasse:

1. “America”: The reference to America appears to suggest that the characters in these Anglo-American narratives redefine the concept of America, or more accurately, reveal the genuine essence of what defines Americanness. However, according to Deleuze and Guattari, the notion of Americanness is grounded in delirium, a shared, socially constructed identity that we collectively recognize as authentic.
2. “The return to native land”: This seems to symbolize a character’s quest for self-discovery, centered on the exploration of their identity. In prominent, Anglo-American narrativees, the character might physically return to their homeland or experience a figurative return to their origins.
3. “The perversion of the exotic territorialities”: Dean Moriarty, as depicted in Kerouac’s On the Road, epitomizes this notion vividly. Dean is deeply enamored with exoticism and the allure of foreign lands and cultures. A notable example of this is Dean’s fixation on wanting to visit Mexico, perceiving Mexico to be a place of freedom and daring adventure.
4. “Drugs, alcohol”: As expected, drugs and alcohol played a prominent role during this literary period; however, Deleuze and Guattari are not suggesting that drugs and alcohol are innately problematic. Instead, the idea of using drugs and alcohol as a means of escapism — as a means to evade the constraints of capitalist society — merely acts as a facade, rather than a complete breakthrough.
5. “An old fascist dream”: I’m uncertain as to what Deleuze and Guatarri are implying by mentioning ‘fascist dreams’ as a literary characteristic in these Anglo-American narratives. However, I interpret it as suggesting that the novels from this era idealized the concept of escapism vis-a-vis through the creation of a utopian society. Yet, without critical examination, such utopias can potentially exhibit fascistic tendencies.

**On the point of Anglo-American literature, a friend of mine recommended Can’t Get You Out of My Head: An Emotional History of the Modern World, a documentary directed by Adam Curtis.

In the context of Anglo-American literature, Deleuze and Guattari write, “never has delirium oscillated more between its two poles” (AO, 133). This statement emphasizes the intense fluctuation between revolutionary, progressive ideas and traditional, conformist notions during this period. Yet, amidst these impasses and triangulations of desire …

… a schizophrenic flow moves, irresistibly; sperm, river, drainage, inflamed genital mucus, or a stream of words that do not let themselves be coded, a libido that is too fluid, too viscous: a violence against syntax, a concerted destruction of the signifier, non-sense erected as a flow, polyvocity that returns to haunt all relations. (AO, 133)

Regardless of the methods used to frame literature within a particular ideology or to situate literature socially, literature continues to advance; “a schizophrenic flow moves” (AO, 133). As Deleuze and Guatarri write, “People are co-opted, not works” (AO, 133). I believe that Deleuze and Guattari are emphasizing that one’s approach to literature in a traditional manner — by reading texts through the lens of pre-existing ideologies or allowing the prevailing social climate to dictate interpretation — fails to encapsulate all of what a text has to offer. Their statement regarding literature “[awaking] a sleeping youth” isolates this point clearly (AO, 133). Therefore, Deleuze and Guattari are not arguing against the reading of Anglo-American authors; rather, they are highlighting the importance of approaching literature without predetermined notions of ideologies.

Yet, the question remains: what precisely is ideology? In my view, this question strikes at the heart of Anti-Oedipus (though, Deleuze and Guattari do not provide a clear definition within this context). Nonetheless, within the framework presented, Deleze and Guattari assert:

As for ideology, it is the most confused notion because it keeps us from seizing the relationship of the literary machine with a field of production, and the moment when the emitted sign breaks through this “form of the content” that was attempting to maintain the sign within the order of the signifier. (AO, 133)

Simply put, Deleuze and Guattari critique the concept of ideology, portraying it as something that obscures our understanding of the relationship between literature and its broader “field of production” — that is, how literature is situation within a sociohistorical context. They argue that the meaning of words and the narrative in literature are not rigid of fixed; rather, the overall story is fluid and open to interpretation. They highlight the moment when the “emitted sign breaks through this ‘form of the content,’” suggesting that fixed meanings imposed on word-signs can be challenged. By challenging preconceived notions, these signs can break free from their static interpretations, allowing for a multifaceted understanding and interpretation of the text.

Deleuze and Guattari continue by referencing Friedrich Engels’ analysis of Honoré de Balzac’s literary works. Engels demonstrated that …

… an author is great because he cannot prevent himself from tracing flows and causing them to circulate, flows that split asunder the catholic and despotic signifier of his work, and that necessarily nourish a revolutionary machine on the horizon. (AO, 133)

While I have not directly read any of Balzac’s novels, I believe that Deleuze and Guattari suggest that, despite the presence of despotic themes in Balzac’s works, his writing is so compelling that he inherently challenges these conventional signifiers. The term “catholic signifier” does not imply that Balzac was Catholic, but rather, that his novels often encompassed a totalizing perspective of society, history, or family dynamics. (Based on a quick Google search,) Balzac’s novels, such as Eugénie Grandet and Père Goriot, serve as exceptional texts where the portrayal of social and familial relationships may appear hierarchical, but the depth and profound writing style encourages readers to question these dominant structures in society.

Deleuze and Guattari conclude this section on Anglo-American authors, Engels, and Balzac, by stating:

That is what style is, or rather the absence of style — asyntactic, agrammatical: the moment when language is no longer defined by what it says, even less by what makes it a signifying thing, but by what causes it to move, to flow, and to explode — desire. For literature is like schizophrenia: a process and not a goal, a production and not an expression. (AO, 133)

The process of oedipalization transforms literature into a consumable object that aligns with the “established order,” presenting oedipalization as safe and non-threatening (AO, 133). Essentially, this means that, within the context of oedipalization, literature is diminished to a mere object of study. Individual readers approach texts with predetermined expectations, reinforcing dominant ideologies and the potentiality of texts to challenge established structures. An example that comes to mind is the story of Adam and Eve. Many Judaeo-Christians find the story of Adam and Eve to be a literal depiction the downfall of humanity; yet, when approaching this with a critical lens, it is possible to read this story through various modes: Is the story of Adam and Eve a story about children losing their child-like minds? Is it about sexuality? Is it about human reason? What does this story serve as a metaphor for?

Rather than identifying the problem being that of the “personal oedipalization of the author and [their] readers,” Deleuze and Guattari highlight that the issue is of the Oedipal form to which “to which one attempts to enslave the work itself, to make of it this minor expressive activity that secretes ideology according to the dominant codes” (AO, 133). This analysis entails that, even if an author is writing from the standpoint of Oedipus, it is still possible to read their work in a critical fashion without succumbing to oedipalization.

Deleuze and Guattari write:

The work of art is supposed to inscribe itself in this fashion between the two poles of Oedipus, problem and solution, neurosis and sublimation, desire and truth — the one regressive, where the work hashes out and redistributes the nonresolved conflicts of childhood, and the other prospective, by which the work invents the paths leading toward a new solution concerning the future of man. (AO, 133)

In this context, Deleuze and Guattari describe how art is constrained to alight with the dual aspects of the Oedipus complex. Given that Oedipus is characterized by binarization such as through “problem and solution, neurosis and sublimation, desire and truth,” art is compelled to position itself between these two poles. One aspect requires the artwork to delve into unresolved childhood conflicts, while the other aspect considers a future perspective: how can these childhood conflicts be resolved? According to Freud, could this involve the killing of one’s father and the marriage to one’s mother?

In their analysis, Deleuze and Guattari argue that artwork undergoes an interior conversion, transforming from a mere creation to a “cultural object” capable of being analyzed and interpolated by an audience (AO, 134). They suggest that the transformation of artwork makes external psychoanalytic interpretations unnecessary, as artwork effectively serves as a form of psychoanalysis. By exploring emotive themes, artwork establishes a profound emotional connection, described by Deleuze and Guattari as a “sublime ‘transference,’” with its audience (AO, 134). It’s crucial to note that their use of the term “transference” is a psychoanalytic term referring to the redirection of one’s emotions — particularly unconscious emotions rooted in one’s childhood — toward a new object (such as the psychoanalyst). Therefore, Deleuze and Guattari propose that artwork functions similarly to psychoanalysis by evoking and redirecting individuals’ emotions.

Echoing back to the previous thesis stated above — there is no difference, in nature, between neurosis and psychosis — it is heavily hypocritcal to draw the line between neurosis and psychosis, especially in the context of art. Deleuze and Guattari explain:

The hypocritical warning resounds: a little neurosis is good for the work of art, good material, but not psychosis, especially not psychosis; we draw a line between the eventually creative neurotic aspect, and the psychotic aspect, alienating and destructive. As if the great voices, which were capable of performing a breakthrough in grammar and syntax, and of making all language a desire, were not speaking from the depths of psychosis, and as if they were not demonstrating for our benefit an eminently psychotic and revolutionary means of escape. (AO, 134)

• *I love the last sentence of this paragraph because Deleuze and Guattari seem to be poking fun at the notion that psychosis is not — or rather, should not be — prevalent in art. Just look at Dalí’s work …

Literature (of a different kind)

There is a famous quote that describes how Oedipus becomes imbued within every interpretation: If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail. The issue at hand isn’t whether an author or a literary text promotes or embodies the Oedipus complex. Rather, the focus is on challenging the pervasive injection of Oedipus into every interpretation or lens through which people interpret literature. Any text can be read through the lens of Oedipus.

Deleuze and Guattari write:

It is correct to measure established literature against an Oedipal psychoanalysis, for this literature deploys a form of superego proper to it, even more noxious than the nonwritten superego. (AO, 134)

At first, I was confused about the meaning of the word “measure” deployed in this context. However, as I understand it, Deleuze and Guattari are not suggesting that established literature opposes psychoanalysis. Instead, the term “measure” is used in the sense of a standard or criterion (i.e., like that of a ruler or measuring tape). In this quote, established literature aligns with psychoanalysis; it is the mainstream literature that is equated with psychoanalysis. Yet, prior to Freud’s Oedipus complex borrowing its name from the renowned play Oedipus Rex, Deleuze and Guattari emphasize that Oedipus existed independently: “Oedipus is in fact literary before being psychoanalytic” (AO, 134).

The process of oedipalizing literature contrasts dominant, hegemonic works with those considered less deserving:

There will always be a Breton against Artaud, a Goethe against Lenz, a Schiller against Holderlin, in order to superegoize literature and tell us: Careful, go no further! No “errors for lack of tact”! Werther yes, Lenz no! (AO, 134)

Let’s review some of these authors that Deleuze and Guattari mention:

“Breton against Artaud”: André Breton was the foundational creator of the surrealist movement. This blog post isolates that the “fundamental disagreement between [Antonin] Artaud and his Surrealist companions manifested in Artaud’s use of the theater as a part of his poetic practice.”

“Goethe against Lenz”: Will be coming back to this.

Goethe and Lenz had different literary styles and philosophies. Goethe’s classical approach and emphasis on reason and order contrasted with Lenz’s more passionate and unrestrained style typical of the Sturm und Drang movement. Goethe might have viewed Lenz’s work as lacking the refinement and balance that he valued in literature.

“Schiller against Holderlin”: Will be coming back to this.

“Werther yes, Lenz no!”: Will be coming back to this.

Furthermore, Deleuze and Guattari identify that “the Oedipal form of literature is its commodity form” (AO, 134). This suggests that traditional types of literature that emphasize the importance of familial relationships have become commodified; this literature serves as a product to be bought and sold within a market economy.

WIP —

We are free to think that there is finally even less dishonesty in psychoanalysis than in the established literature, since the neurotic pure and simple produces a solitary work, irresponsible, illegible, and nonmarketable, which on the contrary must pay not only to be read, but to be translated and reduced. He makes at least an economic error, an error in tact, and does not spread his values. Artaud puts it well: all writing is so much pig shit — that is to say, any literature that takes itself as an end or sets ends for itself, instead of being a process that “ploughs the crap of being and its language,” transports the weak, the aphasiacs, the illiterate. At least spare us sublimation. Every writer is a sellout. The only literature is that which places an explosive device in its package, fabricating a counterfeit currency, causing the superego and its form of expression to explode, as. well as the market value of its form of content.