Destituer le monde est un sport du combat — cursory remarks on M.Tari’s ‘There Is No Unhappy Revolution’

The world too will end; this is certainty and not hope.
In fact, countless worlds have ended, are ending as we speak

The end of the World depends on us.
True friendship is the end of the World,
the beginning of our play together.
The secret is to begin at the end.

How to approach a work such as Tari’s There Is No Unhappy Revolution? How to read this text in light of the prevailing fact that the politics of reading that remains hegemonic is that of the militant-intellectual who either admits or rejects a text into the canon of revolutionary materials? The beginnings of an answer to these question lies, perhaps, with the work of historian and influential figure for the Subaltern Studies group, Ranajit Guha, and particularly his tripartite classification of primary, secondary, and tertiary documents/sources that are produced in relation to a particular movement or struggle. While, for Guha, primary sources refer to the documents produced at the time of the insurrection/rebellion/etc, and tertiary sources are works produced by academics, social scientists, and historians, after the events have passed, Tari’s book exemplifies what he calls “secondary sources”: a record produced by someone who lived through and participated in the events yet also written with a partial chronological and analytical distance.” Of its many virtues is that of providing English language readers with one of the more sustained engagements with the writings of Colectivo Situaciones, whose collective practice of militant-research was to be the process from which destituent power would find its first, explicit, formulation. By way of his reading of the Argentinian insurrection of 2001 as a paradigm of a particular fusion of strategies of living with strategies of combat/rebellion, the communism of destitution is given the following formulation: “a form of life and a form of organization that builds through destituting” (There is no unhappy revolution, 170).  

What follows are notes that attempt to clarify, at least for myself, Tari’s singular synthesis of the writings of Walter Benjamin, on the one hand, and the practice of militant-research undertaken by the Argentinian comrades of Colectivo Situaciones. More incomplete fragments than definitive conclusion, these are undoubtedly not the only, or perhaps even the most systematic figures, in order to substantively recount the text in its entirety. Rather, they appear to function as two of the clearest instances of the practical effects of what Tari has termed the ‘communism of destitution,’ and what Agamben, before him, understood as the revocation of all factical vocations. The language is made all the more striking when we read the following lines from Colectivo Situaciones themselves: “The insurrection of December had a de-instituent character. Its overwhelming efficacy consisted—precisely—in its revocatory power.”

when people are happy together, it becomes subversive behaviour“ [1]

  • ‘Theological-Political Fragment’ (1920/1937)

Why does revolution necessarily imply happiness as one of its essential attributes? The answer to this is two-fold and proceeds by way of the work of Walter Benjamin. It is to Tari’s credit to provide a clear exposition of Benjamin’s oft-cited ‘Critique of Violence’ and how Benjamin’s technical use of the term Entsetzung (meaning oust, depose, and in a more archaic sense, it means to dispossess… as in to dispossess one of their property as a legal penalty), informs the notion of destituent power as a type of power or collective capacity that is neither law-preserving (constituted) or law-founding (constituent). But it is to Benjamin’s Theological-Political Fragment (1920/1937) that Tari alludes to, not only in the title of the book, but in the book’s chapter that links revolution and love entitled ‘There is No Unhappy Love.’ So, in his Theological-Political Fragment, we read Benjamin defending an historical materialist concept of redemption, which he terms ‘the profane,’ against redemption as defined by theology and its political expression in theocracy: “The order of the profane should be erected on the idea of happiness […] For in happiness all that is earthly seeks its [theocracy’s] downfall […] and the rhythm of this eternally transient worldly existence, transient in its totality…the rhythm of Messianic nature, is happiness. For nature is messianic by reason of its eternal and total passing away. To strive after such passing…is the task of world politics.” This gives some insight into what justifies the substitution of the concept of abolition for that of destitution, and not just in the work of Tari but in the writing of the invisible committee as well who make this substitution explicit when they define communism as “the real movement that destitutes the present state of things.” Happiness is not a predicate of an individual subject but the name for the collective process that subjects itself and the political and economic organization of the world to this “eternal transience” and renders capital “transient in its totality”, and subjects this totality to “its eternal and total passing away”, to use Benjamin’s language. 

  • “Notes for a Work on the Category of Justice” (1916)

But why does this understanding of Happiness necessarily relate to questions of revolution?Benjamin’s 1916 ‘Notes for a work on the category of Justice’; a work, like many of Benjamin’s, that would go unfinished; provides us with one of Benjamin’s clearest statements on his view of the relation between law and justice: “To every good, as delimited in the order of time and space, there attaches the character of possession…Possession, however…is always unjust. Hence no system based on possession or property…can lead to justice / Rather, justice resides in the condition of a good that cannot be a possession. This alone is the good through which other goods are DIVESTED of ownership” (A Critical Life, 82). And it is this early formulation that Benjamin will employ as the opening salvo of his 1921 Critique of Violence, from where destitution is derived. As Benjamin writes in the opening sentence of this essay, “The task of a critique of violence may be defined as setting out its relationship to law and justice” (One-Way Street, 1). And further on, writes Benjamin, while providing a new formulation to his earlier distinction of law and justice: “Justice is the principle of all divine end-establishment, power the principle of all mythic law-establishment” (One-Way Street, 22). For Benjamin, it is only when society has divested itself of bourgeois right, which is nothing but the legal expression of the property-form, that the totality of capital can be said to have been brought to an end–not as the terminus of the progress of history but as the termination of history’s progress. Thus it is no surprise to read Benjamin affirming the necessity of history’s termination, a type of redemption no longer alloyed to the most errant of metaphysical determinisms and thus wagers on the experience of freedom enriched by the indeterminate as everlasting form: “Pure divine violence is free once again to adopt any of the everlasting forms that myth has bastardized with law” (One-Way Street, 28).

Tari himself alludes to this 1916 text and its understanding of Justice as the condition for a form of social organization and form of life that has been divested of the (actual and concrete reality of) ownership. For example, early in Tari’s text, on page 35, we read the following: “True justice is no longer identified with an authority or with virtue, but—as Benjamin himself wrote—with a “state of the world.” Or again, now on page 100, amidst a discussion on the relationship between law, territory, and destitution, Tari writes “If the first gesture of taking immediately becomes the right to property…[then] the destitution of the law always begins with the Earth, with territories.” This line of thought leads, within  the archive of destitution, to the commune (or common) as the ethical and political FORM of destitution because it is a form of sociality that cannot, itself, be the property of any one individual. I say all of this as a way of providing some background and related information that is not made explicit in the text for those who may pick up the book and find themselves wondering why it would make sense to oppose justice to law, or view destitution as something intimately related to property, commodities, and all the other real abstractions of capital.

  • to be loved by Communism as only a mother is loved

For Tari, there is perhaps no less innocent term than happiness save that of love, since to grasp the possibility of redemption that inheres in every idea of happiness (“there vibrates in the idea of happiness…the idea of salvation” (Arcades Project, [N13a, 1]) proceeds by way of love. This gives rise to a properly Benjaminian formulation that one finds it hard to improve upon: “This is love against history” (There is no unhappy revolution, 127-28). Thus, Tari continues: “Only those who have experienced love can access communism immediately. And, logically, the more we know how to love someone, the greater the possibility of communism’s arrival” (ibid, 128). Indeed, for this link between love and communism is such that it becomes possible of “freeing oneself by freeing the other from the very need of loving back,” which, as Claire Fontaine rightly note, is love’s “potential communist dimension” (‘Raising the Uprising,’ 278). Fontaine continues: “Being a mother is a work that can be summarized in making onself less and less necessary everyday for one’s children, disappearing as such through the very work that one does and then eventually being abandoned…But if considered outside of the cycle of reproductive work, as a creative activity, this capacity of envisaging love in a non-accumulative, anti-capitalist way, could be a vital resource for feminism. Love is there conceived as a gift of freedom…a love that is noursihed by the implicit emancipation that it contains: the freedom of the loved one and our own, its potential communist dimension” (Raising the Uprising, 278).

For Tari, we must heed to Benjamin’s dictum and everything serious contained within itself: if happiness is to be found in subjecting capitalist totality to an eternal transience via worldly means and suggests that the task of politics is to reproduce forms of life in its wake, then it is the collective formation of anti-capitalist social relations that renders this ideal of love as the gift of freedom into more than the promissory note that it currently remains. That is, if the relation between love and communism is as foundational as we are led to believe, it might be the case that to make good on the Benjaminian desire for the redemption of all those said to be without history we must locate his place in this transient totality, to adjudicate a properly profane appropriation of this relation between love and communism that inheres in every desire for redemption. Claire Fontaine provides with an ideal punctuation to this first set of disparate remarks via her commentary on the communist prospect that inheres in every love that is emancipatory vis-à-vis Benjaminian happiness/redemption draws the portrait of the difficulty and resilience of a desire tainted by forms of value:

“The idea of ‘social motherhood’ […] is not simply conceived as the act of mothering, but it is a metaphor for any charitable bond that ties women to the possibility of community; it is the extension of the work of care to adults and companions in order to preserve the stability of a political formation or militant structure…Some memorable reflections on social motherhood can be found in Walter Benjamin’s interpretation of Brecht’s The Mother…which is a key text because it presents the human community of communism as a vital necessity and the struggle to reach it as a decision of common sense […] Pelagea Vlassova, the protagonist, is a widow of a worker, mother of a worker, therefore twice exploited: as a member of the working class and as a woman and mother […] She begins distributing flyers and going to demonstrations. Pelagea “adopts” communism and Benjamin writes that “she is loved by Communism as only a mother is lover…as the inexhaustible source of help. She represents help at its source, where it is pure-flowing, where it is practical and not false, that can still be channeled without reservations towards what, without reservations, needs help—namely Communism. The mother is the praxis incarnated”…The conclusion of this text…makes us shiver: ‘The dialectic has no need for a distance shrouded in mist. It is at home within the four walls of the praxis and it stands on the threshold of the moment to speak the closing words of the play: ‘And ‘Never’ becomes: ‘Before the day is out!’ This ‘never that becomes before the day is out is exactly the problem that can only be fought against through a form of resistance that intersectionally crosses existential and political aspects of life…which is human strike.” [Human Strike and the Art of Creating Freedom, 280-81]

some loot, others picket, assemblies “escrachan [2]

  • Militant-Research

Colectivo Situaciones brings various theoretical and philosophical traditions to bear upon the urgency of finding the means to resolve the crises of the social reproduction of daily life without reproducing the nation-state and the value-form in turn.[3] Perhaps the most novel contribution of militant-research to this history of inquiry is that unlike its predecessors, which had good reason to assume the existence of an inquiring subject and object of inquiry, militant-research begins from the acknowledgement that there is no object or subject that pre-exists collective research into militant forms of struggle. Terms such as ‘destituent potential’ not only refers to concrete collective practices of meeting one’s social reproductive needs without reproducing value or relying upon the state in the process; it is a term that proved to be effective for establishing relations of solidarity (or what they call ‘non-capitalist sociability’) in the place of relations of exchange. In a sense, militant-research addresses the long standing problem that plagued the method of inquiry–i.e. the oscillation between assigning primacy to either theory or practice, intellectual or manual labor… and the attempts of overcoming this division between revolutionary intellectuals and the working class gives rise to humorous anecdotes. Militant-research shifts epistemic inquiries away from refining descriptors of our present and toward collective attempts at formulating what could be (an exercise of their collective capacity to actualize emancipation as a self-organized/self-determined process). This is one of the fundamental aspects of Foucault that Tari approvingly cites on page 113, in the midst of the discussion of the destituent strike as striking against ourselves: “Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are, but to refuse what we are. We have to imagine and to build up what we could be” (Foucault, ‘Why Study Power?’; There is no unhappy revolution, 113). It is because we do not know what collective practices of destitution can do under different socially determinate conditions that elaborating the potential of what could be becomes of primary importance. 

  • De-instituent Practices

Despite the self-avowed incompleteness of the notes presented here, their incompletion could not be justified without the inclusion of Verónica Gago’s (one of the founding members of Colectivo Situaciones) reflections on Argentina’s destituent insurrection of 2001 and its legacy more than 15 years on. As she writes, “The 2001 crisis in Argentina – tied to a continental sequence of anti-neoliberal revolts and uprisings – provided a space for theoretical-political creation. The moment of eruption of “subjectivities of the crisis,” that took the form of movements of the unemployed, experiences of self-management in factories and neighborhoods, and practices of alternative and popular economy (from barter clubs to the community supply networks to popular markets), demonstrated a capacity for opposition and action that was capable of breaking the neoliberal consensus. At the same time, it was able to articulate, in a new way, forms of resistance that had been woven together over the course of years. All of political theory is put to the test in moments like those […] In our collective militant investigation, we called that power destituent: precisely for its capacity to overthrow and remove the hegemony of the political system based on parties and for opening up a temporality of radical indetermination based on the power of bodies in the street. We also wanted to emphasize that what was called spontaneous was actually the visibilization of a fabric that had been patiently constructed, that synthesized a long elaboration from below, and that went deep enough to question the very distinction between the “social” and the “political.” Therefore we spoke of a “new social protagonism” (Verónica Gago, ‘Intellectuals, Experiences, and Militant Investigations’).

And so… destituent power names a kind of collective practice, a type of social activity, that suspends the political and economic processes that govern/manage populations by establishing a (false) equivalence between the lives of individuals and the place they come to occupy in society, their subject-position relative to capitalist nation-states. It is a collective practice that achieves this effect of suspension via the self-organization, and self-determination, of relations, internal and among groups, that resolves various crises of social reproduction without the reproduction of value. The paradigm of destituent insurrection that emerged from the events of the 19th and 20th of December 2001 is that of a political form incommensurate with the form of value. If theorists such as Hardt and Negri, who both witnessed the unfolding of the 2001 insurrection and would go on to write forewords for Colectivo Situaciones text, relied on the language of the commune, it is because, as Marx put it regarding the commune of 1871, it was there that the political form of freedom was, again, discovered. That is, the novelty of this political sequence is its having assumed a form other than those of production and circulation struggles, but that of what Amy De’Ath calls “anti-social reproduction” struggles. And this is what Marx saw as the “form of freedom” with the Paris Commune and it is what we see again at the turn of the century in Argentina via the form of a destituent insurrection. Thus, when Tari theorizes the destituent strike via his reading of Luxemburg’s theory of the mass general strike, and (rightly) characterizes Luxemburg’s position as one that understands that “the real strike is not a one-time event but a process” and that the “so-called Italian ‘long 68’ was such a process,” we should recall the historically and geographically situated “processes” that was itself a veritable “visibilization of a fabric” of collective freedom, of the destituent potency lived in the collective social practice of communisation.


[trans. this is not a country, this is a mass grave with a national anthem]

Now, aside from the more spectacular and well known tactics drawn from the repertoire of Argentina’s insurrection, two examples help clarify the specificity of the process leading up to December 2001—in case these are not familiar to the reader and because 2001 would not be the dialectical-image that it remains in lieu of their absence: 

  • Barter clubs: relied upon by 7 million people at the time of the insurrection. First established in 1995. This is necessary to highlight since it is a phenomena found throughout Argentina and is used/concerns roughly 7 million people. Thus, it is by no means a marginal phenomena, but a form of social-reproduction that did not imply the reproduction of value and was a practice that makes up the “content” corresponding to a “form of life” that can be said to be destituent to a certain extent. 
  • Escraches / H.I.J.O.S: self-organized form of popular justice established in response to Menem’s government’s decision to pardon members of the military dictatorship who were responsible, directly or in part, despite the government’s knowledge of their responsibility for those who were disappeared or brutally murdered by far-right paramilitary death squads: “The escrache does not work by “putting pressure on the judges to act,”…it removes an entire chain of complicities that made the genocide possible and thus summons…thousands of people, particularly the neighbors of the perpetrators of the genocide, who are the ones taking into their hands the task of exercising the punishment. Thus, the one who gets the escrache will no longer be ‘just another neighbor.’ From this moment onwards, “everyone” knows who he is and what he did” (19/20: Notes for a New Social Protagonism, 204-05). But it is H.I.J.O.S themselves who have gifted us with a perfectly incisive formula that names this particular form a practice of justice, of justice as praxis. “Social condemnation is a way of rethinking justice, making it less about seeking legal reparations and more about the reconstruction of the social fabric that was destroyed by the dictatorship’s actions” and hence they say: “Our slogan is very clear: if there is no justice, there is escrache. It’s because there is no justice, that there is escrache. It’s not that the escrache is the best thing that could ever happen to us, it’s because in this country there is no justice so we came up with this” (Genocide in the Neighborhood, 69)

All of these struggles—from the unemployed to the mothers of those disappeared by the paramilitary units of the military dictatorship—pre-existed the 2001 insurrection. But it was by virtue of intervening as a coordinate struggle on many fronts (what Colectivo Situaciones called the ‘new social protagonism,’ or what Guattari called ‘transversal relations’ [4]) that a really existing concrete capacity to destitute the state and the market was effectuated, was made a lived reality rather than becoming another democratic ideal. And it is understandable if, under these circumstances, readers cannot help but recall Benjamin’s defense of a kind of justice that cannot take the form of propriety or ownership. It is this notion of justice as ground rather than principle of judgement that we find amidst this de-instituent insurrection, where there is no longer a need to even march through the streets with banners since, as the MTD from Solano put it,

“We have marched together with them [caceroleros, autonomous neighborhood assemblies, etc.], we blocked roads together, but we do not go with banners. They know we are from the MTD, that we are piqueteros, but we understand that we should not put a banner to this struggle. We think it is necessary to unify the struggle, but that nobody should homogenize it. We all have to go out, strike together, but nobody owns that struggle. We contribute from where we belong and of not think, as some comrades understand, that we have privilege because the piqueteros started this struggle.” [19/20: Notes, 119]

Interestingly enough, it is with respect to the issue of this “new social protagonism” that there emerges a small yet clear difference that distinguishes Tari’s understanding of destituent potency from that of the Colectivo. For Tari, the idea of a new social protagonism unwittingly rehabilitates a vision of revolution predicated on some revolutionary subject despite Colectivo Situaciones’ best efforts to think of the possibilities opened up by various situations rather than indulging in Bolshevik thought-experiments and wonder as to the proper agent to carry out a revolution already underway. These are moments rich with all their respective particularities and of interest, not because it marks another split over competing interpretations of history, but because it tells us what the paradigm of destituent insurrection and the grammar of its unfolding means something different in differing contexts… this being due to the fact that the relation of life to struggle means something different in the global south than it does in the global north. this adPrivacy Settings

However, what remains unclear as to what is gained or lost by this reading of “social protagonism”, which is used by the Colectivo less as a reference to classical theories of rev-subjectivity and more to the type of social bond, or social relation, that allowed disparate (nation wide) and differing self-organized communities to coordinate and aid in the reproduction of all other groups; the reproduction of a form of struggle that no longer depended upon the reproduction of forms of value and techniques of governmentality (this is the nature and function of “anti-social reproduction” where socail reproduction is realized without relying upon the market or the state). The protagonist of 2001 wasn’t any one form of struggle even though the piquetero would become one of its most iconic figure; rather, it referred to what Verónica Gago called the “fabric…patiently constructed, that synthesized a long elaboration from below” to which the notion of “social protagonism”, where what was “new” was precisely the relations that constructed a social fabric out of decades long processes of living amid ever increasing immiseration. It is in this sense that what the Colectivo called ‘social protagonism’ is a singular concretization of what Guattari termed ‘transversal relations’; relations between various social groups in order to wage a “struggle on many fronts” as he put it. Whether it is the vocabulary of social protagonism or transversality, it amounts to the same: the suspension or nullification of a degree of estrangement that we begin to see and act on the basis of the fact that the problems of one social group are the problems of the social whole, and the emancipation of each is possible via the abolition of the capitalist social relations. “Almost as unknown as the piqueteros were the different nodes, networks, and circuits of barter that drew together millions of people in the harshest moment of the crisis […] All these experiments—to which we could add, among others, the escraches of the group H.I.J.O.S. against the unpunished perpetrators of the genocide of the last dictatorship, or the struggles carried out by the Mapuches in the Argentine south and the organization of campesino initiatives in the north of the country, such as the Movement of Campesinos of Santiago del Estero—were more or less known, but remain in relative isolation. The events of December provoked a visibilization…among them and before those that rose up massively to participate or to learn about those initiatives” (19/20: Notes, 228-29).


[ Without being able to touch on several of the other fundamental themes that structure Tari's text, it is to the questions of race/racialization and coloniality—with specific attention paid to the nexus of the terms of territory-inhabit-land—that the above fragmented-commentary will turn at a later date.]

[1] Felix Guattari, Préface à Radio Alice, Radio libre, par le Collectif A Traverso (Jean-Pierre Delarge: 1977).
[2] "In 1984, the newly-installed democratically-elected government commissioned a report to detail the repression under the dictatorship. This report, issued by the Comision Nacional Sobre la Desaparicion de Personas (CoNaDep), was titled Nunca Mas, or Never Again. The conclusions of the report, which included the documentation of the disappearance of almost 9,000 persons, shocked the world. As a 1985, former junta leader Jorge Rafeal Videla was sentenced to life imprisonment at the military prison of Magdalena. However, the report also advanced for the first time a theory which came to be known as "theory of the two demons"...a politicized interpretation of the historical experience of the dictatorship advanced by the Union Civica Radical, the party in power during the "transition to democracy." The phrase attempts to cast the political struggle of the 1970s as a confrontation between two irrational demons: on the one side the militarists and on the other the left (guerillas), whose struggle held "normal society" hostage [...] As a result, Argentina's democratic government soon passed two sweeping pieces of legislation: the Ley de Punto Final and the Ley de Obediencia Debida. The Ley de Punto Final was passed in 1986 and put an end to the investigation and prosecution of people accused of political violence during the dictatorship through December 10, 1983, the day democratic rule was instituted in Argentina. The Ley de Obediencia Debida, passed in 1987, stipulated that all military and security personal could not be tried for their actions during the dictatorship as they were acting out of "due obedience." The, in 1990, in what was seen as the ultimate affront to justice, then-president Menem issued a sweeping pardon absolving from prosecution key leaders of the National Reorganization Process (i.e. the 1976-1983 dictatorship) and certain guerillas on the grounds of "national reconciliation." Thus, when the group HIJOS began working in the mid-1990s it was within this complicated context [...] in the run up to the massive, wide-spread protests on December 19th and 20th, 2001, the escraches fueled and fed off of the spread of a multitude of radical colectives and innovative social movements across Argentina...However, the escrache as a practice began primarily as a response to Menem's pardons, the Ley de Punto Final and the Ley de Obediencia Debida" (Genocide in the Neighborhood, 18-20). Brian Whitener, 'Introduction' to Genocide in the Neighborhood, trans. Brian Whitener, Daniel Borzutzky, and Fernando Fuentes (Chainlinks: 2009), 11-36.
[3] A note on the theoretical and practical traditions that Colectivo Situaciones synthesize in a novel manner: Theoretical tradition: a short and incomplete list would include Marx, Benjamin, autonomia, italian feminism, the history of indigenous struggles throughout the Americas, and critiques of the legacy of marxist-leninism and the left-wing progressive governments that followed them once the guerrillas put down the gun (most notably the Tupac Katari Revolutionary Army in Bolivia, which included the country’s future vice-president under Evo Morales’ government, Alvaro Garcia Linera, and his long-time comrade in armed struggle who would become one of his sharpest critics, Raquel Gutiérrez Aguilar); Practical tradition: militant-research draws from the long tradition (& its various adaptations) of what Marx originally called ‘workers inquiry’ (Marx 1881),Correspondence produced by the Johnson-Forest Tendency (CLR James, Raya Dunayevskaya, and Grace Lee Boggs’ collective formed after their split with Trotskyism (circa 1947), Socialisme ou Barbarisme which lifted Correspondence’s method/format almost entirely (50-60s), co-research with Quaderni Rossi (1961), and even the Prison Informations Group (1970-73), and went on to influence further uses of the method of inquiry after the events of Argentina in 2001, and this is perhaps clearest in the mobile inquiry into the lives of precarious and feminized workers via the Spanish collective, Precarias a la Deriva (2002). For an exhaustive and rigorous overview of this history, written by one of the former members of Precarias a la Deriva, see Marta Malo's two-part essay 'Common Notions,' here and here. For an equally thorough and clarifying genealogy of the method of inquiry from Marx to the present, see Asad Haider and Salar Mohandesi’s ‘Workers’ Inquiry: A Genealogy’.
[4] "I envisage schizo-analysis as a political struggle on all 'fronts' of desire-production. There can be no question of focusing on a single area...What transversality means is simply continual movement from one 'front' to another" (Molecular Revolution, 257). Or again, "There is not one specific battle to be fought by workers in the factories, another by patients in the hospitals, yet another by students in the university. As became obvious in 68, the problem of the university is not just that of the students and teachers, but the problem of society as a whole and of how it sees the transmission of knowledge, the training of skilled workers, the desires of the mass of the people, the needs of industry and so on" (ibid, 255). F é lix Guattari, 'Molecular Revolution and Class Struggle,' Molecular Revolution: Psychiatry and Politics, trans. Rosemary Sheed (Penguin: 1984), 253-261, 255-57

taken from here

Foto: Stefan Paulus
Scroll to Top