In one of his lectures Gilles Deleuze explains how we could best under- stand what a matter in a state of continuous mutation means1. When we perceive a table, the physician has already explained that here we have atoms and electrons in move, but it is difficult for us to perceive the table as movement-matter. How could we then best become aware of the movement as matter? Deleuze answers: By thinking of it as metal. It might be wise to explain this a little.
In the lecture Deleuze invites Edmund Husserl and Gilbert Simondon to help him2. According to Husserl we can distinguish fixed, intelligible and eternal essences as well as things that we can sense and perceive: there are formal, intelligible essences like the circle as a geometrical essence, and then round things, sensible, formed, perceivable things like for instance a wheel or a table. Between these there is however an intermediary domain consisting of elements that are not fixed or formal and neither sensible or perceivable. Unlike the formal essences these are inexact or indeterminate essences: their indeterminacy is not hap- hazard nor a defect, for they are indeterminate by their essence. They belong to a space and time which is in itself indeterminate.
So there is a precise and definite time-space and an indeterminate and indefinite time-space, endless and spaceless time, to which Henri Berg- son refers when he says that “time is exactly this indeterminateness”3. Formless or indeterminate (Husserl uses the term vage) essences be- long to the latter, for they cannot be reduced to their visible and spa- tial conditions. As Deleuze says, Husserl knew very well that “vage” is vagus: these are the heart of the vagrant, the rambling, stateless, precarious, vagabond essences.
Husserl defines these vagabond essences as certain kinds of materi- alities or corporealities. They are something different than thingness, which is a quality of sensible, perceivable, formed things (a plate), or than essentiality which is a quality of formal, definite and fixed es- sences (a circle). According to Deleuze Husserl defines corporeality in two ways. First, it cannot be distinguished from the events of trans- formation whose place it is: its first character is fusion, dissolution, propagation, event, passage to the limit which means mutation etc. The indeterminate time-space is thus the place of transformation and mutation.
The thought of immaterial labour is a paradox. It causes problems to old meanings and distinctions as if it did not fit within the boundaries of normal world and common and good opinion. With this thought we are already far from the slow progression of temporal succession in industrial production and in verbal thinking, far away from the clearly phased coherence of the courses of our lives. But isn’t the indetermi- nacy and inconsistency of my life, the overlapping of its phases, its per- manent precarity and concreteness of its abstractness exactly where our thinking should also be able to climb?
We cannot get rid of paradoxes by saying that they do not exist (it is in this sense that Deleuze talks about concepts that answer true prob- lems as paradoxes). They point at the inability of used language and words to express that something to which they refer or which they in- vent. Paradoxes are like rebel elements in language which do not signify (mean anything) but only demonstrate (reveal or initiate something). They reveal the limits of our understanding by demonstrating some- thing (non-linguistic, singular and sensual) which does not yet have really a voice, like the concrete experience of abstractness of work (that it is turning into something not tied to particular place and time, something withdrawing from its actual embodiments) which manifests itself already as a distrust of the permanence of one’s employment and of one’s immediate communities. It is confusing that work blends with my personality and transforms into a kind of black hole that exhausts and forces me as if to be capable of my own capabilities (to cooperate, be inventive, handle arbitrariness…) without a possibility to become anything else.
We need new concepts and words to understand an economy where immaterial matters, where value is produced more with words and images than with machines and direct labour or where machines and tools blend in human abilities and memory, where products are more like communicative acts than material things and where value seems be born out of “nothing”, of mere words and ideas.
How to understand that our ideas, relations and thoughts seem today to have the material weight and value that used to belong only to the material things and actual labour? How to understand that our experi- ence, memory and understanding are productive in themselves without any need of mediation or incarnation into a commodity, actual labour or meaningful act?
How to think about the materiality of the immaterial?
Secondly, the corporeality is not inseparable only of the event of trans- formation (whose time-place it is), but also of those certain properties which are susceptible to intensities in different degree (colour, density, heat, hardness, durability etc.) 4. So there is a combination of mutation, “events-intensities”, that constitutes the vagabond material essences and has to be separated from the “sedentary linkage” belonging to a definite time-space.
If the circle is a formal essence and the plate, the round table and the sun sensible formed things, and if the indeterminate essence is neither one of these, then what is it? Husserl answers that it is the roundness (die Rundheit), roundness as matter, roundness as flesh. What does this mean? It means that the roundness is inseparable of the operations through which different materials undergo. Or as Deleuze says, “round- ness is only the result of a process of rounding (arrondir), a passage towards its limit”. Roundness as a vagabond essence does not mean the tranquil and fixed essence of the Euclidean circle, but the round- ness as the limit of a polygon continuously increasing the number of its sides. This is precisely the indeterminate character of a stateless es- sence, roundness in the sense of Archimedes’ mutating definition (pas- sage to the limit) and not of Euclid’s essential definition.
We have a tendency to think through formal essences and formed, sen- sible things, but then we forget something: we forget the intermedi- ary space where everything happens. According to Deleuze this inter- mediary space or metastable state exists only as a “border-process” (becoming-round) via sensible things and technological agents (a millstone, a lathe, a drawing hand etc.). But the intermediary space is “in between” only in the sense that the nomad has a home in homeless- ness. I return to this idea shortly, but in any case, the intermediateness has independency and creates itself in between things and thoughts in the sense that it is the mutating identity between them. This is why we cannot understand the world of definite time-space, of formal es- sences and formed things, if we do not understand what is going on in the middle, in the indeterminate region of stateless essences, where everything happens.
One should notice that this is not a question of opposition, but of two different worlds: in the world of roundness we move corporeally to- wards the limit, just like the roundness is the materiality insepara- ble of the passage caused by the acts of rounding (roundness as the limit of multiplying the sides of the polygon). The circle has essential qualities that pass from the formal essence into the matter, in which the essence gets realised. But roundness is something different: it is something that assumes the movement of the hand and the continuous straightening of the angles, or as Deleuze puts it, “it is inseparable from events, it is inseparable from affects”.
Some of Gilbert Simondon’s concepts can be compared to those of Hus- serl. Simondon aims at freeing matter from hylomorphism, that is, from a form-matter model where the form (morphe) informs (in forma) the passive matter (hyle) like the casting mould informs the clay. The cast- ing mould is like a form which is pressed into the clay-matter, imposing qualities to it. Deleuze calls this also “the legal model”. Simondon was not the first one to criticise the hylomorphic model but the way in which he criticised it was new: Simondon was interested in what happened amongst the mould and the clay-matter, in what happened in between them, in the intermediary state.
In the hylomorphic model the function of the casting mould is to impose the clay, to determine the clay to take on its state of equilibrium, after which the mould is removed. The form and matter are thought to be two things separately receiving their definition, like two ends of a chain whose linkage is no longer visible. But what happens at the side of the matter when it is passing to the state of equilibrium? This is no longer a question of form and matter but a question of the pressure or the ten- dency of matter to move towards certain equilibrium, which in fact is not an equilibrium at all but a series of equilibriums, a metastable form, a structure of heterogeneity, or an equilibrium not defined by stability5. The form-matter model does not take this into account for it assumes a homogeneous, stable, already given and workable matter. According to Simondon we cannot even talk about casting into a mould, since the mere thought of moulding assumes already a more complicated pro- cedure of modulation. Modulation is boundless moulding or moulding in a continuously variable way. A modulator is a mould that continuously changes its form, function and settings. If modulation is moulding in a variable and endless way (indeterminate time-space), then moulding is modulation in a fixed and finite way (determinate time-space)6.
But how can we then think about this continuous mutation of matter or the materiality of mutation? Also according to Simondon it is defined by two things. First, it contains singularities which are like implicit (inde- terminate, inexact) forms eluding the coordinates of definite time and space in merging with the events of transformation: for example the changing spirals and undulations in the grain that guide the splitting of the wood. Secondly, it is defined by changing affect qualities. For example the wood, Simondon’s favourite example, can be more or less porous, more or less flexible and resistant. According to Simondon the artisan does not merely impose the form to the matter, but rather sur- renders to the wood, feels and follows it (like a shepherd his flock) by combining different procedures with the materiality.
Where Simondon’s favourite example is wood, Deleuze defines the movement-matter as metal. By this he means that metal and metal- lurgy, which as a process is explicitly modulatory, makes visible for intuition that which is normally hidden in other materialities. That is why Deleuze says “metallurgy is consciousness” and that “metal is the consciousness of the matter itself ”. We cannot think of metallurgy just through the hylomorphic model, for the metallic matter, which to begin with is very rarely in its pure native state, must go through several series of intermediary states before attaining its “form”. Once it has at- tained its final characteristics, it is still subject to several changes that form and add its qualities (hardening, decarbonation etc.). The forming does not take place in one visible moment and place, but in several operations which go on at the same time and follow each other: we can not separate the forming from the mutation. Forging and hardening the metal in a way both precede and follow that which could be called at- taining the actual form. It is as if the procedures would communicate, beyond the thresholds that actually separate them from each other, directly in the continuous process of variation of matter itself. This was true for clay also, but nothing forced us to realise it. Metal instead com- pels us to think of movementmatter, matter as variation and variation as matter. We are no longer addressing a matter submitted to form or to law, but a “materiality possessing a nomos” 7.
Nomos is the phonetically shortened version of nomeus, the shepherd. The connection between the nomos and the nomadic life comes forth most clearly in the Greek words nomeus (shepherd), nomeuo (driving to the pasture) and nomós (the pasture, the pasturing, the dwelling place), and in the verb nemein (to distribute, to give), often used by Homer8. The other meaning of the verb nemein directly points at the life of a shepherd (to be out in the pasture, to pasture the herd, to drive the sheep to the pasture, to feed the herd etc.) and it seems that the word has received its connotation of “dispersing”, “drifting” and “spreading” exactly form this area.
In the Homeric “society” there were no fences and no ownership in the pasture ground. The pasturing was thus not a question of dividing the land to the animals but on the contrary of the distribution and of the division of the animals to the open pasture grounds. When Deleuze and Guattari comment the etymological roots of nomos they state that the word means exactly this particular distribution: a division which does not divide anything in parts, a division in space with no boundaries and no enclosures9. Nem, the root of nomos, means first and foremost the distribution of animals to the pasture ground with no allusion to split- ting and dividing the ground in parts or to distribution in the sense of allocation (which is better expressed by the Greek words temnein and diairein). In the pastoral sense the distribution of animals happens in a boundless space and does not suppose distribution of the ground: in the Homeric time it had nothing to do with land registers or land dis- tribution; when the question of land ownership arose in Solon’s days, a completely different kind of terminology was applied.
It was only after Solon that nomos started to mean the principle behind the law and justice (thesmos and dike) and then to identify with the laws themselves (nomos as the separate and limited space of law)10. Before this the place of nomos was an intermediary space, the plain, the steppe and the desert between the wild forest and the polis governed by laws.
This idea of division is the key to the distinction made by Deleuze and Guattari between the nomos and the polis. Polis, the city state ruled by laws, is characterised by the distribution in the terms of logos. Deleuze defines it as distribution which divides up the already distributed ac- cording to fixed and established definitions, and which is guided by the “public opinion” and “common sense”11. Against this we have the no- madic distribution which is not about dividing the distributed, visible wealth, but about “division amongst those who distribute themselves in an open space – a space which is unlimited or at least without precise limits”12. There nothing belongs to someone or is his or her property, but everybody regroup just in order to spread and to fill the largest possible space. Dividing in space, and spreading and filling the space are a very different matter than distributing the space13. It is about an errant or even a “delirious” distribution, a demonic rather than divine organisation, since it is a “peculiarity of demons to operate in the inter- vals between the gods’ fields of action”14. Where gods have their fixed qualities, functions, properties, places and codes, and where they are to do with borders and land registers, the demons leap over fences and enclosures, from one interspace to the other, thereby confounding the boundaries between the areas15.
Thus the open or indeterminate space and the nomadic distribution belong together. For a nomad the territory exists exactly in the sense of this in between or intermediary space. He uses the usual, habitual routes, he moves from one place to another, to which he is in no way indifferent (the water place, the resting place, the meeting place, the hiding place etc.). But even though the places determine the routes, they are, unlike for those living a settled life, subordinated to the routes they define. One arrives at the water place or to the hiding place only to leave it behind again. Dwelling is not tied up with a place but with a route that keeps one always in motion. Every place is just a connection, like the connecting flight exists only as a connection. The routes move between the places, but the being in between or the delay of interspace is primary, autonomous and has its own orientation. The nomad life is this existence in between, with no visible land marks or formal, fixed principles to orientate oneself with.
Even though the nomad movement may follow the pathways and the habitual routes, it does not fill the function that a road has in a settled life. It does not divide or parcel out a limited space for men, it does not distribute everybody their own share, and it does not regulate the communication between the parts. It functions rather in the opposite direction: it distributes men and animals in an open space that is in- definite or indeterminate and does not communicate. Nomos means this particular way of distribution: distribution without dividing in parts or shares, distribution in a space without borders and enclosures. It is the consistency of this indeterminate, formless, intermediate exist- ence without a state (without a form, without a polis). In this sense of a hinterland, backcountry, intermediate state or openness of moun- tain side it contradicts the polis organized by the law. The nomads distribute themselves in this smooth intermediate space, they spread themselves, they live and dwell this space: it is their territorial and or- ganisational principle. This is why Deleuze and Guattari note that the nomads are in fact not determined by movement (in the geographical sense)16. The nomad is rather the one who does not move. Unlike the migrant who goes from place to place, leaves behind a hostile place to arrive to another place (though maybe still indeterminate and non- localisable), the nomad does not leave17. S/he moves and holds to her/ his open space. S/he does not flee from her/his steppes, but makes her/ his homelessness into a home. The nomadic organisation is a solution to this challenge. Nomads are quite simply those living in nomos, those whose home the nomos is. In a way the nomads could be defined by the term apolis, which means an outlaw, a man without a polis (home or city). But the nomads do have a home: nomos is their home. We cannot understand the nomads by defining them in a negative relation to polis, as if they were lacking something, but positively as a multitude of peo- ple whose home is nomos18. Unlike the organization of polis, the nomad pack does not have a coordinating law that would be separate from the pack and would rule and direct it. And unlike the organization of oikos, it does not have a “lineage” or a “descend”. It does not have a common ancestor. Becoming a pack is not characterized by a descend from the father but rather by contamination, the birth and proliferation through contamination, not through bloodline. Unlike proliferation through de- scend and the simple dualistic difference between the sexes included there, contamination always concern heterogeneous elements: “peo- ple, animals, bacteria, viruses, molecules, micro-organisms…”19.
According to Aristotle, the place of human being is in the polis in so far as he fulfills his own nature as a “political animal”. A human being who is outside the state because of his nature is, for Aristotle, like the brotherless, lawless and homeless lover of war, condemned by Homer20. According to Aristotle a human being can actualise his own nature only as a part of polis since “the city-state is prior in nature to the household and to each of us individually, for the whole must necessarily be prior to the part” and the part exists only when filling its appropriate task as a part of the whole21. For Deleuze and Guattari instead, a human being or an animal outside the polis is not “an isolated piece at draughts” as for Aristotle, but always gregarious, always a multitude and therefore a war machine22.
By this Deleuze and Guattari mean that the community, the polis has no monopoly of acting together. The condition of cooperation does not lie in the weaving together of several different, it does not lie in law, in moral, in tolerance or in agreement, it does not lie in “us” or in “I”. Acting together is not about the dialectics between the individual and the collective or about the search for the “good” totality. The herds of animals or men find their common substance rather in the mere move- ment and mutation. There the relations are not organized by a common cause, but by laws of closeness, attraction, rejection and contamina- tion. There “good” are the relations that increase powers, that spread and combine themselves, and “bad” are the ones that suffocate and pull apart23. When a herd meets something fit for it, it merges to it, devours it and the powers of the herd expand. What the herd was before transforms, together with that encountered, into a part of a bigger and larger subjectivity.
Deleuze gives the materiality of the immaterial also a third name: mul- titude (multiplicité). The idea of immaterial as multiplicity helps us to understand further the immatrial as substance which is not just actual: it is rather real without being actual and ideal without being abstract.
Deleuze emphasises repeatedly that multiplicité is not an adjective, a character or an attribute, but a noun (substantive). The idea of a sub- stantive multitude underlines that it is not about the relation between the one and the many characterizing the classical political thought. The question is not of organizing the many different (people) into one through a common cause or task, but of the organisation of the many as such, with no need to uniformity, unanimity, common language or any other common nominator. Multitude is the organisation of singu- larities in which nobody can be inside or outside but always at the same level “alone together”, by oneself in conjunction with others alike: “When the pack of wolfs forms a ring around the fire, each man will have neighbours to the right and left, but no one behind him; his back exposed to the wilderness…”24. In other words the multitude is not a “one” constructed out of “many”; it is not composed of individuals or of a diversity of parts that are glued together. It does not amount to pluralism and has nothing to do with tolerance. It is a perfectly dif- ferentiated crowd lacking absolutely any transcendental nominator. It does not function based on shared values or meanings, but finds its unity only in movement and change.
Thus multitude is something that we cannot think or reach by spatial sequences or historical facts, just like in Zenon’s paradox the arrow is motionless at every point of its trajectory and seems to annul the real- ity of movement and change. The multitude is deceived every time we try to think of it as a relation between actual elements or as a succes- sion of present moments or motionless cuts, in other words when time is confused with space and duration with states of consciousness that are separate and external to one another. Multitude destroys spatial hierarchy and the self-evidences of common sense that our habits and communication require.
This is why Deleuze and Guattari distinguish multitude from history25. Change may cause history, have outcomes, end in catastrophes, but it never is its outcomes, its history or its catastrophes. Even though there are relations between multitude and history, the multitude as a “place” of mutation does derive from its historical conditions. Change is not generated out of this or that wrong or this or that injustice. But it is neither eternal which would make it completely contrary to history. History can however only conceive how the change becomes effective under certain conditions. Change instead exceeds its motives and es- capes history: it itself must be approached as a substance independent from history, a region not governed by historical time and space.
In other words, change cannot be reconstructed according to succes- sive moments or spatial coordinates, just like our existence cannot be reconstructed merely by the successive present moments. We do not shrink into our particular deeds, to our spatial existence or to the places we occupy on the continuum of chronological time. The tense of time itself is rather the indeterminate duration. Duration is the ele- ment which prevents everything from being immediately given. It is the dimension of the untimely, of the memory or of the in-organic life, which at the same time is in time and works against the time, as if always external to its own time. It has no place in the region governed by space and time, but without it there would be no change. If the multiplicity as the place of mutation is duration, then duration must be that which differs not from something else but from itself. Thus duration must be that which changes. The change, that is, the difference, is no longer between two things or between two tendencies, but becomes in itself now a positive substance26.
In the same way as the difference itself becomes a substance, the movement is no longer a movement of something, the change a change of something, the multiplicity a multiplicity of something, but they as- sume themselves a substantial character without having to presume something else like a changing or a multiple object. That duration is change means that it differs internally from itself: the difference in it- self becomes a unity of substance and subject, a causa sui, a substance which is its own cause. This is why the multitude does not need any- thing external to it, like a reason or a meaning, no kind of mediation for the support or guarantee of its existence. As long as the cause is external to its effect it cannot guarantee its existence, only its possibil- ity, not its substantiality and necessity.
Deleuze presents one of the most exact definitions of multiplicity in his essay “A quoi reconnait-on le structuralisme?”, even though he uses there the term multiplicité only once.
In the essay he differentiates three kinds of relations27. First, there are relations between autonomous or independent elements, such as 1 + 2 = 3. The factors in this relation are real and their relations must be also said to be real. Another kind of a relation is born between factors whose value is not defined, but which in any case must have a set value, like in the equation x2 + y2 = R2. Deleuze calls these relations imaginary ones. A third type of relation appears between the factors which themselves have no defined value, but however reciprocally define each other, like in the equation dy/dx = – x/y, where the factors are in a differential rela- tion. “Dy is totally undetermined in relation to y, dx is totally undeter- mined in relation to x: each one has neither existence, nor value, nor signification. And yet dy/dx is totally determined, the two elements de- termining each other reciprocally in the relation”28. In other words the relation itself is completely real, but independent of its actual factors.
When the factors, between which the relation emerges, are not defin- able (actual), but the relation in between them is completely defined in reciprocity, the relation is virtual. We must avoid the temptation of offering the elements constituting the virtual an actuality that they do not have, and of depriving their relations the reality that they do have: the reality of virtuality lies in the structure that does not drown or exhaust into any (present or past) actuality.
To clarify further the multitude’s mode of existence we must still draw a clear line between the virtual and the possible. Possible is that which may realise but has not yet done so: for the possible to exist, it must realise itself. There is nothing that can at the same time be both pos- sible and realised: possible is the opposite of the real and therefore has a negative character29.
When something possible is realised, nothing essentially changes in its nature, an existence is simply added to it (this is why the real is like the possible). But since all the possibles cannot be realised, the realisation must mean limiting and eliminating other possibles, in order for certain possibles to “pass” into the real. Thus the relation between the pos- sible and the real excludes always the other. Possible is never real, even if it might be actual. Virtual instead is always real.
This is why Deleuze says that the virtual does not realize itself but that it actualises itself30. This is not just a question of terminology, but of defining the existence of multiplicity without any negative elements: the actual differs from the virtual, not as a negation, but as a positive act of creation. This is why virtual and actual are not alike: they do not resemble one another. Actualisation does not mean passing into a lower level of being or copying the ideal into the real. Actualisation does not mean reminding, similarity or limiting, but positive produc- tion and creation. The difference between the virtual and the actual requires the actualisation to be an act of creation. There is no ready made form for it, there is no set way or channel that would direct the birth of an actual multiplicity.
Multiplicity is always a question of the virtual in a process of actuali- sation – of differentiation, distribution, integration, that is to say: in a process of change – which lacks all external causes and meanings, all particular purposes and tasks. When a multiplicity actualises itself it differs internally from itself without any mediation. This is a process of actual and positive creation of something new, of change, and not a process of mere negative resemblance or reflection.
While the real is in the image and likeness of the possible that it real- ises (the image of possible), “the actual does not resemble the virtual- ity it embodies”31. The virtual is pure positive difference and emergence of a difference from the virtual: “virtuality exists in such a way that it is actualised by being differentiated and is forced to differentiate itself, to create its lines of differentiation in order to be actualised”32. Multiplicity is a question of the relation between the virtual and the actual, not of the relation between the possible and the real, where in the latter the real is always completely ready and given. All the possible reality exists only as a kind of a “pseudo-actuality” that comes into “being” in the series of limitations conducted by sameness: no kind of a movement of creating something new can take place here33. The realization of the possible generates a static multiplicity since all the real being is ready made and pre-existing in the “pseudo-actuality” of the possible. The actualisation of the virtual instead generates a dynamic multiplicity which is unpredictable and “indeterminate” but only in the sense that it is creative and generates something new. That is why Deleuze says that the existence of the multitude must be determined in the sense that it is necessary, qualitative, singular, substantial and actual. And it must be indeterminate because it is not determined by any pre-existing goal or cause, because it is always creative and generating something new.
Deleuze uses the neologism different/ciation to conceptualize the structure of multitude34. A virtual multiplicity has not yet differenci- ated, even though it is completely differentiated. The actualisation of the multiplicity is the process of differenciation. The multiplicity in it- self is differential but has differenciating effects. Self-differenciation (change) is a movement of the virtual, which is actualising itself. Du- ration is the time of actualisation and change according to which the elements of the virtual with-being become different (actualised) in dif- ferent rhythms. Time passes from the virtual to the actual, that is to say from the multiplicity to its actualisation, and not from one actual moment or thing to another. Time and the structure of multiplicity, or change (the birth of something new) and multiplicity can no longer be separated from each other. Since actualisation is a process of creative differenciation, the fact that the multiplicity is completely determined, does not imply limitations or capturing into any predetermined forms. The actualisation does not mean that something new emerges out of “nothing” or that existence is just added to possible things.
It means rather the substantial event of creation, which does not bend to already existing conditions, causes or purposes, but dreads its sub- mission more than death.
1 Gilles Deleuze, “Anti-OEdipe et Mille plateaux”, Cours Vincennes 27.02.1979. http://www.web- deleuze.com; see also Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, Mille Plateaux, Editions de Minuit, Paris. 1980; especially Ch. 12 “Traité de nomadologie: La machine de guerre”.
2 Edmund Husserl, Ideas, tr. W.R. Gibson, Humanities Press, New York, 1976, Part 1, passage 74; Edmund Husserl, Origin of Geometry, tr. J.P. Leavey, Stoney Book, New Hayes, 1978; Gilbert Simondon, L’individu et sa genèse physico-bioloque, PUF, Paris, 1964, p. 35 –60. See also Gilles Deleuze, “Revue de Gilbert Simondon L’individu et sa genèse physico-biologique”, Revue Philos- ophique de la France et de l’Étranger 156, 1966, p. 115–118.
3 Henri Bergson, La pensée et le mouvant, PUF, Paris, 1962, p. 13.
4 If the intensity is divided it necessarily changes its nature. For example the temperature is not the sum of the two lower temperatures, or the speed is not the sum of the two slower speeds.
5 Gilles Deleuze, op.cit, p. 44.
6 Deleuze deals with the difference between the mould and modulation especially in trying to explain the passage from the disciplinary society to the control society. See e.g. “Postscript on Control Societies” in Gilles Deleuze, Negotiations, tr. Martin Joughin, Columbia UP, New York, 1995.
7 Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, op.cit, p. 508.
8 We can give nomos two principal meanings which differ from one another by their ac- cents: in the word nomós the stress is on the second syllable, and in the word nómos on the first syllable. The first means the pasture ground and the steppes (in Homer it can be found only in this form) and the other, which is considered more recent, means the way of life of beings following their own norms (Hesiod) or more simply just the way or norm which stresses determination of behaviour, often considered as essential to the word. Out of the latter was developed the third, much more recent meaning of nomos as a law and a codified habit. The meaning of nomos as habit was not, however, so arbitrary to begin with. It meant rather the way of life that was habitual, a normal way to live, which was almost impossible to separate from the geography of the steppes and the ways of battle and cooking food necessary there. In this sense it is not impossible that the most ancient term for habit could have been born out of a term which was used for the most ordinary, habitual way of life, life in the steppes, where the austere conditions of life required a special form of life in order to survive. See Liddell and Scott, An Intermediate Greek-English Lexicon, Oxford UP, Oxford, 2002; also, Akseli Virtanen, Biopoliittisen talouden kritiikki [Critique of Biopolitical Economy. The End of Modern Economy and the Birth of Arbitrary Power], Tutkijaliitto, Helsinki, 2006.
9 Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, op.cit, p. 472. 10 Ari Hirvonen, Oikeuden käynti, Loki, Helsinki, 2000, p. 65.
10 Ari Hirvonen, Oikeuden käynti, Loki, Helsinki, 2000, p. 65.
11 Gilles Deleuze, Différence et répétition, 1968, p. 54.
12 Ibid, p 54.
13 Nomos does not therefore mean the first measuring and dividing of the land, the way in which for example Carl Schmitt seems to think nomos in his creative etymology. The land is oc- cupied, but not in the way presented by Schmitt; there is a concrete order in nomos, but it is not the one outlined by Schmitt. See Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth, Telos Press, New York, 2003, I:4; V.
14 Gilles Deleuze, op.cit, p. 54. We can regard also Pan, the demon god of “disorder” occupying these intermediary states as a bearer of this kind of a folly. He is the son of the god of thieves, Hermes, whose home is in the meadows and in the mountains between the city state and the forest. Maybe it was for this reason that the Greek feared the scream of Pan and the “irrational” madness it evoked: Panic (panikon deima; a surprising, sudden feeling of fear, horror, anxiety or insecurity which often takes over flocks of animals or men) raises and becomes infectious when people drift too far away from the divine or political limits and meanings controlling them. “Then Pan, who declares and always moves (aei polon) all, is rightly called goat-herd (aipolos)” Plato, Kratylos, 408b–d. See James Hillman, An Essay on Pan, Spring Publications, 1972.
15 Gilles Deleuze, Haastatteluja, 2005, p. 141.
16 Ibid, p. 13 8; Deleuze, Autiomaa, Gaudeamus, Helsinki, 1992, p. 18.
17 On the difference between the nomads and the migrants see Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, op.cit, p. 472-473.
18 In Greek nomads (nomas) are quite simply those who live in nomos, who distribute in it with their flocks with no allusion polis. See Gilles Deleuze, Haastatteluja, 2005, p. 205. Klaus Harju has accurately treated the question of home in homelessness by the concept of saudade. See Harju, “Saudade, to be at home without a home”, Ephemera. Theory and Politics in Organization, 2005, 5(X): 687-689.
19 Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, op.cit, p. 295.
20 Iliad 9.63: “For he that foments civil discord (polemos) is a clanless (afretor), hearthless (anestios) outlaw (athemistos)”.
21 Aristotle, Politics,1253 a18.
22 Ibid, 1253 a5-10; See Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, op.cit, p. 471: Proposition V: Nomad
existence necessarily effectuates the conditions of the war machine in space.
23 Gilles Deleuze, Spinoza: Practical Philosophy, tr. Robert Hurley, City Lights Books, San Fran- cisco, 1988, p. 22.
24 Elias Canetti quoted in Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, op.cit, p. 47.
25 Gilles Deleuze, Bergsonism, tr. H. Thomlinson and B. Habberjam, Zone Books, New York, 1988, p. 37-38. The idea of the difference between change and history is grounded on a distinc- tion made by Henri Bergson between two different types of multiplicity: one of space and homog- enous time and one of pure duration. The first one is a quantitative and measurable multiplicity, “a multiplicity of exteriority, of simultaneity, of juxtaposition, of order and of quantitative differ- entiation, of difference in degree”. The other is qualitative, “an internal multiplicity of succession, of fusion, of organisation, of heterogeneity, of qualitative discrimination, or of difference in kind”. The multiplicity of order is fragmentary and actual, whereas the multiplicity of organisation is continuous and virtual.
26 Gilles Deleuze, “Bergson’s conception of difference”, in Mullarkey J. (ed.), The New Bergson, tr. Melissa McMahon, Manchester UP, Manchester, 1999, p.48.
27 Gilles Deleuze, “A quoi reconnait-on le structuralisme” in F. Chatelet (ed.), Histoire de la philosophie, Paris, 1972, p. 183.
28 Ibid, p. 265.
29 Ibid, p. 211; Gilles Deleuze, Bergsonism, op.cit, p. 96.
30 According to the theory of memory or of the ontological unconsciousness by Bergson the
multiplicity is in the past, “in a memory which in itself is pure, virtual, indifferent and idle”, Gilles Deleuze, op.cit, p. 71. The creative movement from the unitedness of the past into the multiplicity of the present is a process of actualisation.
31 Gilles Deleuze, op.cit, p. 97.
32 Ibid, p. 97. 33 Ibid, p. 98.
34 Gilles Deleuze, Difference & Repetition, 1997, p. 210; Deleuze, “A quoi reconnait-on le struc- turalisme”, 1972, p. 268.
Translated from Finnish by Leena Aholainen