Okay, so finally, let\u2019s do this. Let\u2019s cover F\u00e9lix Guattari\u2019s \u2018Machine and Structure\u2019, which appears at least in two of his compilations, \u2018Molecular Revolution: Psychiatry and Politics\u2019 and \u2018Psychoanalysis and Transversality: Texts and Interviews 1955\u20131971\u2019. I\u2019ll be referring to the latter, in case you wonder about the pagination. Now I\u2019ve mentioned all kinds of things about it already and hyped it so much that I can\u2019t be bothered to do that again. Instead, let\u2019s get to it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The great thing about this text is that the crucial things are already indicated in the title: machine<\/em> and structure<\/em>. From this you should already be able to figure out that they are not the same. That said, while they are distinct, they are, nonetheless, inseparable, as he (318) points out:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI want therefore to make it clear that I am putting into parentheses the fact that, in reality, a machine is inseparable from its structural articulations and, conversely, that each contingent structure is dominated (and this is what I want to demonstrate) by a system of machines, or at the very least by one logic machine.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s also worth noting here that this works both ways. So, on one hand, a machine<\/em> is tied to its structural <\/em>or, should I say, structured <\/em>articulations, but, on the other hand, a structure <\/em>is structured by a machine or, rather, a set of machines which act in concert. In addition, there are various logic machines<\/em>. Now, I can\u2019t be sure, but something tells me that what he means by machines here is what he and Gilles Deleuze later came to refer to as desiring machines<\/em> and assemblages<\/em>. I also think that the logic machines are what they came to refer to as abstract machines<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I think it\u2019s also worth noting here how he explains this in terms of structure<\/em> or structures<\/em>, as opposed to stratum<\/em> or strata<\/em>, which makes sense, given that, unless I\u2019m mistaken, this before he was familiar with Hjelmslev\u2019s work. My general understanding is that he and Deleuze got a bit allergic to using the word structure, not because it couldn\u2019t or wouldn\u2019t work for them, I don\u2019t think it\u2019s that, but rather because it had that structuralist<\/em> baggage to it, because it made people think of it in ways that simply didn\u2019t mesh with their train of thought. It reeked of totality <\/em>and transcendence<\/em>, I guess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anyway, Guattari further elaborates what he means by machine <\/em>and structure<\/em>. He (381) adds in the notes that he defines structure as Deleuze uses it (or used it) in his work (this being an early work that comments other early work, namely \u2018Difference and Repetition\u2019 and \u2018The Logic of Sense\u2019), as about generality<\/em>, having these positions of exchange<\/em>, which allows the exchange or substitution of elements. In other words, I guess we could say that, for him, a structure is entirely relational. To be more specific, he (382) states that, firstly:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTwo heterogeneous series, one defined as the signifier, the other as the signified.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Again, note how this is an early text. He hasn\u2019t familiarized himself with the works of Hjelmslev. So, instead of referring to them as the form of<\/em> expression<\/em> and the form of<\/em> content<\/em>, he is referring to them as the signifier<\/em> and the signified<\/em>. Secondly (382):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSeries one (signifier) and series two (signified) only exist if both exist at the same time.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n This is also applicable in his (or their) subsequent Hjelmslevian take on this, how he and Deleuze (57) insist, for example, in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia\u2019 that content<\/em> and expression<\/em> are always in a reciprocal presupposition, i.e., how does not appear without the other. So, in summary, combining these two, for there to be a structure<\/em> of sorts, what they refer to as stratification<\/em> in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019, there needs to be content and expression which never appear in isolation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He (381-382) contrasts structure<\/em> with machine<\/em>, noting that it is, in turn, about the order of repetition that pertains to what is non-exchangeable<\/em> and singular<\/em>, as opposed exchangeable<\/em> and general<\/em>. In other words, machine is never simply explainable as the sum of this and\/or that, as these and\/or those parts, as like a list of interchangeable components<\/em>, but as that which makes this this and not that, and that that and not this, even though, at a glance, they may appear to be identical.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, for example, we can two things, let\u2019s say something mass produced like pens, which consist of certain parts that are interchangeable. This means that we can disassemble them and reassemble them as we see fit, without there being any noticeable difference to us. We could say that they are virtually<\/em> the same, even if we swap parts between them, and even if we introduce more of those pens to swap more parts between them and the newly introduced pens, but they are not actually<\/em> the same<\/em> and never will be, no matter how we swap the parts. They will always remain different<\/em>. Each pen is certainly composed of a number of parts that are, in this case, interchangeable, but each of them is a composition that retains it singularity<\/em>, as this or that pens, regardless of the composition<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This might be difficult to understand, but the point here is that it is that composition<\/em> of parts that give them their singularity<\/em>, how they come together in this or that way, which is never exactly the same as it is with the others. Now, you may wish to object to this, noting that ah, but aren\u2019t the parts identical? Well, sure, if we assume that the parts themselves are actually<\/em> the same, not merely virtually<\/em> the same. The thing is, however, that that\u2019s never actually the case. Nothing is actually the same, nor does anything remain actually the same, except difference itself, which leads us to where Guattari got this idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Deleuze explains this quite neatly in \u2018Difference and Repetition\u2019. He (1) starts by stating that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRepetition is not generality.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n He (1) reinforces this statement by taking issue with, one one hand, common sense and, on the other hand, science:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEvery formula which implies their confusion is regrettable: for example, when we say that two things are as alike as two drops of water; or when we identify \u2018there is only a science of the general\u2019 with \u2018there is only a science of that which is repeated\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Now, as you can see for yourself, he (1) laments on how there is this tendency, tied to the dominant image of thought<\/em>, i.e., way of thinking, to mix repetition<\/em> with resemblance<\/em>. To be fair, he (1) does go on to give science its fair shake:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[G]enarality expresses a point of view according to which one term may be exchanged or substituted for another. The exchange or substitution of particulars defines our conduct in relation to generality. That is why the empiricists are not wrong to present general ideas as particular ideas in themselves, so long as they add the belief that each of these can be replaced by another rother particular idea which resembles it in relation to a given word.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n This is what he (1) means by exchange<\/em> and how one thing can qualitatively resemble<\/em> another thing or be quantitatively equivalent<\/em> to another. There is this exchange or substitution that Guattari also mentions in his text.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That said, that being all well and good for Deleuze, he (1) still objects to equating repetition<\/em> with resemblance<\/em>. Why is that? Well, the problem for him (1) is that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBy contrast, we can see that repetition is a necessary and justified conduct only in relation to that which cannot be replaced.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Now you must be thinking like: wait what? Don\u2019t worry, he (1) goes on to further explain this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRepetition as a conduct and as a point of view concerns non-exchangeable and non-substitutable singularities.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n If this feel familiar to you, it\u2019s because I\u2019ve already kind of covered this, because Guattari is building on this, quite evidently, in explicit reference to this book. Anyway, Deleuze (1) exemplifies this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cReflections, echoes, doubles and souls do not belong to the domain of resemblance or equivalence; and it is no more possible to exchange one’s soul than it is to substitute real twins for one another.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Again, you might be tempted to think that a reflection is about resemblance<\/em>. Your mirror image is certainly like <\/em>you, and I think he would agree with that, but the thing is that you cannot exchange yourself with your mirror image, nor anything else with its mirror image, for that matter. It\u2019s the same with an echo. You cannot substitute the sound with the echo. They are not the same, which is why it is so fun to shout in places where you get a proper echo. It sounds nothing like you. The echo has its own singularity<\/em>. I don\u2019t know if anyone would be dumb enough to suggest that the echo is your voice, because it isn\u2019t. The soul is also rather obvious. You literally cannot swap a soul with another soul, because that\u2019s literally what\u2019s considered to be singular about something, it\u2019s soul! I\u2019m not sure about what he means by doubles, but he does make a good point with the twins. You literally can\u2019t swap one with the other in hopes of it being the same, because, duh, it isn\u2019t, not even if the twins are identical. That\u2019s exactly what he means by singularity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He (1) summarizes this by adding that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf exchange is the of generality, theft and gift are those of repetition. There is, therefore, an economic difference between the two.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Ah yes, couldn\u2019t put it better myself. Just think of it. In the first instance, it\u2019s all about the exchange<\/em>, about interchangeability. You replace this with that. In the second instance, it\u2019s about giving or taking. There\u2019s no back and forth. If I give you my<\/em> pen, I no longer have that<\/em> pen, my<\/em> pen. Sure, it\u2019s just a pen, fair enough, and I can easily replace it with another pen, which is why a pen is, generally speaking, not a great gift, unless, unless, of course, there is something highly specific about it, some very me<\/em> about it that you<\/em> appreciate. It has that singularity<\/em>. To be honest, even if its not very me<\/em>, to you<\/em>, as general as it might be, it does have its singularity. We are just in the habit of overlooking it. That\u2019s why his (1) twin example is so good. If someone you know is taken away from you, let\u2019s say, kidnapped, comatosed or killed, it\u2019s not like that person\u2019s twin can simply substitute in that person’s absence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But what does he mean by theft<\/em> and gift<\/em> pertaining to repetition<\/em>? Well, if you take or give something, the act is repeated, but not what is taken or given. Conversely, if you exchange<\/em> something, there is no repetition, only resemblance<\/em>. How to put that in another way? If you swap something with something else, that\u2019s synchronic<\/em>, whereas if you take or give something, it\u2019s diachronic<\/em>. If that confuses you, I think I may have failed you and it\u2019s better to have him (1) explain it to you:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTo repeat is to behave in a certain manner, but in relation to something unique or singular which has no equal or equivalent.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n To give you an example, that, somehow, I think I may have already used in the past, think of an athlete. What is training? Well, usually training is considered to involve repetitions or, in short, reps. What are they? We are tempted to think that they are monotonous drills in which the same <\/em>is repeated and, in a sense, that is correct. It is, however, not the same action <\/em>that is repeated, but the drill itself that is repeated. What do I mean by this? Right, so, it\u2019s the drill that is repeated, but the idea of the drill is to change you, to make you better in some way. If you wouldn\u2019t change between the reps, if you performed the drill the same way, each time, the notion of reps would be pointless. Get it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n He (1) exemplifies this with festivals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is the apparent paradox of festivals: they repeat an \u2018unrepeatable\u2019. They do not add a second and a third time to the first, but carry the first time to the ‘nth’ power.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n And, to add a bit more specificity to that example, he (1) adds that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWith respect to this power, repetition interiorizes and thereby reverses itself: as P\u00e9guy says, it is not Federation Day which commemorates or represents the fall of the Bastille, but the fall of the Bastille which celebrates and repeats in advance all the Federation Days; or Monet’s first water lily which repeats all the others.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n If that makes no sense to you, think of any contemporary festival. The festival is never the same as it was before. I mean, why would it even strive for that? What would be the point of a festival that had the same place, the same time, the same lineup, the same schedule, the same everything? The odd thing is, however, that if you\u2019ve been to that festival, you\u2019ve been to that festival, no matter when it was. It\u2019s the same, but different.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anyway, he (1) summarizes this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGenerality, as generality of the particular, thus stands opposed to repetition as universality of the singular.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n And that (2):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRepetition can always be \u2018represented\u2019 as extreme resemblance or perfect equivalence, but the fact that one can pass by degrees from one thing to another does not prevent their being different in kind.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n So that (2):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe head is the organ of exchange, but the heart is the amorous organ of repetition.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Now, to be clear, this bit is a bit too cutesy for my taste, as it kinda repeats an old adage that has it that we think with our brain, which is considered to be the right thing to do, think, think, always think, and act with our heart, which is considered the wrong thing to do, because it doesn\u2019t involve thought, but, okay, I get it. It\u2019s about just going with it, not thinking about it. It\u2019s what I\u2019d call intuition<\/em>. You just sort of know it, just like that, and there\u2019s no need to think it over. That\u2019s why he (2) adds that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is true that repetition also concerns the head, but precisely because it is its terror or paradox.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n He (2) then moves on to note that the problem with generality <\/em>is that results in \u201can empty form of difference\u201d or in \u201cinvariable form of variation.\u201d If you are familiar with sociolinguistics, you\u2019ll note how he is trying to give variation <\/em>its due. Generality presents variation as something that is subordinated to a constant<\/em>. So, instead of constants and variants <\/em>or variables<\/em>, as he (2) calls them here, there\u2019s just variation, a bounded infinity, which, of course, in terms of generality, appears to us as a great of number of varieties<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To exemplify this, he (3) explains how scientific experiments get this wrong:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[E]xperimentation constitutes relatively closed environments in which phenomena are defined in terms of a small number of chosen factors (a minimum of two \u2013 for example, Space and Time for the movement of bodies in a vacuum).\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n To which he (3) adds that the problem is that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cConsequently, there is no reason to question the application of mathematics to physics: physics is already mathematical, since the closed environments or chosen factors also constitute systems of geometrical co-ordinates. In these conditions, phenomena necessarily appear as equal to a certain quantitative relation between the chosen factors.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n The point here being that in such experiment, you\u2019ve already set the rules, i.e., the laws, according to which you experiment something, but aren\u2019t willing to admit it. Simply put, this amounts to cheating. Here physics is piggybacking on mathematics, as he (3) points out. He (3) continues:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cExperimentation is thus a matter of substituting one order of generality for another: an order of equality for an order of resemblance. Resemblances are unpacked in order to discover an equality which allows the identification of a phenomenon under the particular conditions of the experiment.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Which, for him (3) means that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRepetition appears here only in the passage from one order of generality to another, emerging with the help of \u2013 or on the occasion of \u2013 this passage. It is as if repetition momentarily appeared between or underneath the two generalities.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n But, he (3) isn\u2019t buying this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[T]here is a risk of mistaking a difference in kind for a difference of degree.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n So, in summary, for him, the problem is that difference<\/em> is primary, and identity<\/em> is merely secondary, but this ends up turned on its head. To really hammer this home, he (3) adds that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor generality only represents and presupposes a hypothetical repetition: \u2018given the same circumstances, then…\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Ah, yes, there is that presupposition, what I called cheating. You aren\u2019t really starting from scratch. You aren\u2019t really experimenting. Instead, you presuppose this and\/or that, so that repetition<\/em>, this and\/or that has the appearance<\/em> of occurring in the same<\/em> way, i.e., this resembling<\/em> that. Anyway, he (3) continues:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis formula says that in similar situations one will always be able to select and retain the same factors, which represent the being-equal of the phenomena.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n In other words, this is about repetition, but about attempting to explain it by subordination it to resemblance, as he (3) goes on to add:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis, however, does not account for what gives rise to repetition, nor for what is categorical or important for repetition in principle[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n As that can be a bit difficult to grasp, he (3) clarifies that by noting that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[W]hat is important in principle is \u2018n\u2019 times as the power of a single time, without the need to pass through a second or a third time.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Note here how it\u2019s about a single time, about singularity<\/em>, not about multiple times, not about assessing the singular<\/em> through a definite number of factors and thus subordinating it to generality<\/em>. This is what Deleuze and Guattari mean in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019 when they (24) reject the opposition between the one and the multiple:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon’t be one or multiple, be multiplicities!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Which they (32) elaborate:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLet us return to the story of multiplicity<\/em>, for the creation of this substantive marks a very important moment. It was created precisely in order to escape the abstract opposition between the multiple and the one, to escape dialectics, to succeed in conceiving the multiple in the pure state, to cease treating it as a numerical fragment of a lost Unity or Totality or as the organic element of a Unity or Totality yet to come, and instead distinguish between different types of multiplicity.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ll get to multiplicity <\/em>in a bit, but, to further elaborate this, they (21) note that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[It] is reducible neither to the One nor the multiple. It is not the One that becomes Two or even directly three, four, five, etc. It is not a multiple derived from the One, or to which One is added (n + 1).\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Their (21) point here being that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[T]he One is always subtracted (n – 1).\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n So that (7):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[T]he only way the one belongs to the multiple: always subtracted[.]\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n In other words, multiplicity<\/em> or singularity<\/em> deals with something that can\u2019t be explained as one<\/em> or multiple<\/em>. There is no reference to something that it is not. It is what it is. It\u2019s not an image of something, which the one and the many presuppose, as they (16) point out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To explain multiplicity<\/em>, in relation to singularity<\/em>, the point here is that singularity is multiplicity, kind of like one<\/em> and the many<\/em> being the same thing, one always consisting of many, which consist of many, without any general unity of one which is subdivisible to the many, or the multiple<\/em>, whatever you want to call it. They (99) exemplify this, as well as the previous point I made about variation<\/em> being about variation, not about constants<\/em> and variants<\/em> or variables<\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is possible to take any linguistic variable and place it in variation following a necessarily virtual continuous line between two of its states.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Note here how they (99) work with the terms. Here they start with rejecting the constants<\/em> and variables<\/em> by noting that variable is not tied to a constant but to variation<\/em> itself. In other words, a variant or a variable is not tied to a constant, according to which it deviates from it to this and\/or that extent. This means that we are dealing with variables or varieties<\/em> whenever we are dealing with variation. They (99) exemplify this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAgrammaticality, for example, is no longer a contingent characteristic of speech opposed to the grammaticality of language; rather, it is the ideal characteristic of a line placing grammatical variables in a state of continuous variation.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n The point here is that what we think as ungrammatical is tied to something that presuppose as grammatical, i.e., as something that we think is a constant. This is that point about cheating that I mentioned earlier. They (99) continue:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIn spite of [Nicolas] Ruwet\u2019s structural interpretation, we should avoid taking the view that the atypical expression is produced by the successive correct forms.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Note how they are going against structure<\/em> here. Like Guattari (318) points out, structures are there, yes, but they are always contingent. They never fixed. Why? Because they are always dominated by the set of machines<\/em> and at least one logic machine<\/em>, as he (318) points out. Deleuze and Guattari (99) also point this out:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is instead the atypical expression that produces the placing-in-variation of the correct forms, uprooting them from their state as constants.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Simply put, no constants<\/em>, only variables<\/em> in continuous variation<\/em>, which produces contingent structures, what they (100) like to call optional rules, as opposed to invariable or obligatory rules. Okay, okay, sure, we may reckon that rules are invariable or obligatory, that you cannot get around them, but, well, they\u2019d (99-100) counter that by noting that they only appear as such, for now, until they don\u2019t, which means that they are merely contingent or optional in the broader scheme of things, only appearing as invariable or obligatory in a certain context. This is why they (99) argue that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt assures an intensive and chromatic treatment of language.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n As neatly exemplified by their (99) treatment of something as simple as the conjunction \u2018and\u2019:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAn expression as simple as AND \u2026 can play the role of tensor for all of language. In this sense, AND is less a conjunction than the atypical expression of all of the possible conjunctions it places in continuous variation.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Now, you\u2019ll be puzzled by what they (99) mean by tensor<\/em>. Let\u2019s start with a dictionary definition, in this case from the Oxford English Dictionary, which tells us that it (OED, s.v. \u201ctensor\u201d, n.) is a term borrowed from mathematics:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAn abstract entity represented by an array of components that are functions of co-ordinates such that, under a transformation of co-ordinates, the new components are related to the transformation and to the original components in a definite way.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n They (99) elaborate their take rather briefly:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe tensor effects a kind of transitivization of the phrase, causing the last term to react upon the preceding term, back through the entire chain.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n To which they (99-100) add that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[T]hey are pragmatic values essential to both assemblages of enunciation and indirect discourses.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n They don\u2019t really provide a clear-cut definition of what tensors<\/em> are, but they (141) certainly link them to tension<\/em> and intensity<\/em>. They (511) also refer to them as nonformal functions<\/em>. This doesn\u2019t help us much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In their book on Franz Kafka, \u2018Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature\u2019, they (23) refer to them as intensives<\/em>, which, by all logic, means that they are not extensives<\/em>, i.e., they lack form<\/em>, even though, I\u2019d say, that they act upon form or, rather, within form, within all that is extensive, segmented<\/em>, articulated<\/em> or stratified<\/em>. They (22) also state that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[W]e might call the linguistic elements, however varied they may be, that express the \u201cinternal tension of a language\u201d intensives<\/em> or tensors<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n So, simply put, tensors<\/em> are what express internal tension. A tensor is what get us outside the structure<\/em>, for example in language, providing room for creativity<\/em>, as they explain this in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019 (99):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[I]t causes language to tend toward the limit of its elements, forms, or notions, toward a near side or a beyond of language.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n And in \u2018Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature\u2019 (22):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is this sense that the linguist Vidal Sephiha terms intensive “any linguistic tool that allows a move toward the limit of a notion or a surpassing of it,” marking a movement of language toward its extremes, toward a reversible beyond or before.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Here they (93) refer to Sephiha\u2019s article \u2018Introduction \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9tude de l\u2019intensif\u2019. I\u2019m not going to get stuck on this, at least not now, but what I find interesting about it is how he (114-115) notes that the intensive, what Deleuze and Guattari call the tensor<\/em>, covers everything, including but not limited to \u201creinforcement, emphasis, superlative\u201d and \u201cexpressiveness\u201d. He (115) clarifies this by stating the this has to do with how, for example, we can have different intensities<\/em> of \u2018loving\u2019, such as \u2018adoring\u2019 or \u2018worshipping\u2019. If you\u2019ve ended up worshipping someone, it clearly surpasses the notion \u2018adoring\u2019 or, in general \u2018loving\u2019. There is another interesting bit in the text where he (118) states that this is not all there is to this as words can change meaning, i.e., in what sense<\/em> we understand them, but retain that intensity. He (118) uses the example of bikini, which used to be about a large explosion, as a dictionary (OED, s.v. \u201cbikini\u201d, n.) will tell you (in refence to the Bikini atoll, where atomic bomb tests were carried out), but it (OED, s.v. \u201cbikini\u201d, n.) is nowadays understood as \u201c[a] scanty two-piece beach garment worn by women.\u201d It can, however, also lose that intensity, like it did with bikini or atom, originally trademarked for that purpose, for that intensity, to make a bang, if you will, and it did, albeit only to lose some of that impact as it gained popularity, to the point that misconstrued its origins, as noted by him (118).<\/p>\n\n\n\n Deleuze and Guattari (93) mention in their Kafka book that they got the term tensor<\/em> from Jean-Fran\u00e7ois Lyotard\u2019s work, where it is used \u201cto indicate the connection of intensity and libido.\u201d He deals with it in his book \u2018Libidinal Economy\u2019. There\u2019s a handy glossary, in which it is stated that by, I presume, the translator (xiii-xiv) that Lyotard uses it to counter \u201cmost directly the nihilism he takes to be inherent in all semiotics (structuralism in particular), the issue being that there is a certain semiotic or structuralist subordination of intensities<\/em>, e.g., actions or emotions, to a lack whenever one approaches them in Saussurean terms. It is noted that (xiv):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe sign refers, or defers itself, to an elsewhere, constitutively replacing something (absent) for someone.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n This is the problem with signification<\/em>, as also noted by Deleuze and Guattari (112) in \u2018A Thousand Plateaus\u2019:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere is a simple general formula for the signifying regime of the sign (the signifying sign): every sign refers to another sign, and only to another sign, ad infinitum.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n In other words, signs end up on an infinite deferral, so that everything is just a representation<\/em> of something else, hence the nihilism opposed by Lyotard. They (112) continue:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat is why, at the limit, one can forgo the notion of the sign, for what is retained is not principally the sign\u2019s relation to a state of things it designates, or to an entity it signifies, but only the formal relation of sign to sign insofar as it defines a so-called signifying chain.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n So, in this configuration, what you have is not a sign<\/em>, signifier<\/em> and signified<\/em>, but endless signification<\/em> or a signifying chain<\/em>. They (112) further clarify their position:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhen denotation (here, designation and signification taken together) is assumed to be part of connotation, one is wholly within this signifying regime of the sign.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n To be clear, this is how language works, no doubt about it. This is, however, only part of the story. I think that you should mash denotation<\/em> and connotation<\/em> together, making no distinction between them as argued by Valentin Volo\u0161inov (102) in \u2018Marxism and the Philosophy of Language\u2019. That said, you should retain these notions in order to indicate that denotation has to do with usual or central meanings, whereas connotation has to do occasional or peripheral meanings under certain conditions. There is nothing given about them. That\u2019s the point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Deleuze and Guattari (112) explain what\u2019s missing here, that other part of the story:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot much attention is paid to indexes<\/em>, in other words, the territorial states of things constituting the designatable.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Note here how they object to ignoring the things, what it is that we point to, what it is that is supposedly signified. Anyway, they (112) continue:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot much attention is paid to icons<\/em>, that is, operations of reterritorialization constituting the signifiable.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Here the object to how there\u2019s this tendency to not only ignore what it is that we point to, but also the underlying process that allows us to point to something that is then, supposedly, signified. They (112) still have something to say about this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThus the sign has already attained a high degree of relative deterritorialization; it is thought of as a symbol<\/em> in a constant movement of referral from sign to sign.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n So, in Peircean terms, it just all about the symbols<\/em>, while ignoring the indexes<\/em> and icons<\/em>. They (112) explain this in Saussurean terms:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe signifier is the sign in redundancy with the sign.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n This means that it\u2019s just signifier that a signifier signifies, which is why they (112) reiterate that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAll signs are signs of signs.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n And, to be more elaborate about this (112):<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe question is not yet what a given sign signifies but to which other signs it refers, or which signs add themselves to it to form a network without beginning or end that projects its shadow onto an amorphous atmospheric continuum.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n For them (112), this means:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe atmospherization or mundanization of contents. Contents are abstracted.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n They (112) clarify this by noting that the signified has no content<\/em>, i.e., it lacks its referent<\/em>, that \n
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