Desiring machines make us an organism; but at the very heart of this production, the body suffers from being organized in this way, from not having some other sort of organization, or no organization at all.

– Gilles Deleuze/Fritz Guattari, Anti-Oedipus

There comes a moment in their great work Anti-Oedipus (for that is what we must call this black book of riddles) when D&G – in an almost gnostic litany of negativity from one of the drifting echoes of Artaud’s process of ‘Unmaking / Unnaming’ (“No mouth. No tongue. No teeth. No larynx. No esophagus. No belly. No anus”) expose the body of death to the onslaught of expressive delineation: “The automata stop dead and set free the unorganized mass they once served to articulate.(8) It’s as if the nanobots of our own late era had already infiltrated the discourse of this early dreamwork, as if the viral memes of our late capitalism…

To say that a person or a class or people is oppressed by society is too simplistic. If we think of society as the totality of human beings, plus maybe institutions like schools, churches, and businesses created by human beings, we are using individual/society distinction, rather than thinking of society as global communication. In the traditional view, the individual is understood as the irreducible unit of society. Society is the whole and individual people are the parts. The individual then is understood as alienated from society, oppressed by society, indoctrinated by society, struggling for liberation from society, an integral member of society, or placed in some other relation to society.

But these are all observations. So the question becomes, What observer observes the individual as X? What observer observes the individual as alienated, oppressed, seeking liberation, or in some other relation to society?

We might say that a critical theory, religion, or…

Religion observes through the form of transcendence/immanence. The “ground of all being” is transcendent; this is what we do not see or experience in daily life, but, according to the religion system, we can get a glimpse through the curtain in brief experiences of grace. The transcendent is the unmarked side of the form because it cannot be explained or described. It’s an empty space. Everyday experience is the marked side, and religion devotes itself to describing the sins, transgressions, corruptions on this side. It develops elaborate classifications of sins, such as mortal/venial, the seven deadly sins, etc. In other words, religion first distinguishes this world of sin and corruption, marking it off from the perfect transcendent reality. Then it re-enters the form on the marked side to make further distinctions among sins. So sins in general are distinguished as mortal (unforgivable) and venial (forgivable) sins. Venial sins are marked, and…

Stefan Rossbach has a wonderful chapter in Observing International Relations: Niklas Luhmann and World Politics, edited by Mathias Albert & Lena Hilkermeir, 2004. The essay is titled “‘Corpus mysticum’: Niklas Luhmann’s Evocation of World Society.”

Rossbach, in discussing Luhmann’s links to early mystics and Gnosticism, has helped me realize why (despite the difficult, often dry reading) I felt an immediate affinity for Luhmannian theory. Back in the early 1980s, I was reading things like the Meister Eckhart, The Cloud of Unknowing, and St John of the Cross, as well as Zen Buddhism and other Eastern mysticisms.  As a 20-year-old, I found St. John of the Cross‘s negative theology, or via negativa, particularly fascinating.

Rossbach links Luhmann to mystics such as Jakob Boehme and Nicholas of Cusa. Here is one passage from Rossbach’s essay:

Contemplating the history of Western philosophy, Luhmann noted that 2,000 years of searching for “essence” had…

Laszlo Krasznahorkai’sThe Melancholy of Resistance lives in that grotesque realm between the real and the fantastic, its humor is only offset by its profound despair and deeply unsettling disturbance of our place not only in society but in the universe itself. In the first section of the novel we meet Mrs Plauf, an older woman who has been visiting friends and loved ones but is now on a return train trip to her own home town. Most of the action is from her pov, and we listen to her as she lives through a particularly trying voyage. Her sense of reality takes a sharp turn into the sinister when she discovers a man who is staring at here perversely. A young man, but also one who is filthy and seems ludicrously interested in her as a sexual object. As the trip goes on we find out about her life back home…