Showing posts with label d. h. lawrence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label d. h. lawrence. Show all posts

10 Jun 2026

Notes on Mark Fisher's Flatline Constructs (2025): Chapter Two

Zer0 Books (2025) [a] 
Cover design by Rebecca Wright / charcoalstudio.co.uk 
Reimagined by Stephen Alexander (2026)
 
'Body Image Fading Down Corridors of Television Sky ...'
 
 
I. 
 
Fisher tells us that chapter two of Flatline Constructs opposes a cyberpunk concept of the body - i.e., one sans organes - to the body as encountered in traditional works of science fiction which are complicit in the false idea that technology is simply an extension of the flesh [b]. 
 
He writes:
 
"Gothic Materialism understands cyberpunk not as the dialectical fusion of Horror and Science Fiction, but as the materialist critique of Science Fiction from hypernaturalist horror. What is at stake is a - new - account of the body, abstract, cybernetic and denaturalised." (84)
 
Fisher continues:
 
"Ironically, given all the discourse of disembodiment that often surrounds the technical apparatus with which cyberpunk texts have typically been obsessed - virtual reality machines, simulators, cyberspace decks - cyberpunk constitutes an earthing of Science Fiction's 'traditional' ideal, or non-physical body. But the outlines of the body it emphasises are not defined by the limits of the organism." (84-85)  
 
In order to illustrate his point, he analyses two works that have posed a challenge to old school sci-fi: David Cronenberg's Videodrome (1983) and J. G. Ballard's The Atrocity Exhibition (1970) - a novel which Fisher prefers over Ballard's better-known text, Crash, published three years later. 
 
For Fisher, Ballard in particular points the way to the key Gothic Materialist idea of anorganic continua.  
 
 
II.  
 
I can't remember who said it - or if I'm remembering it accurately - but a book of quotations once introduced me to the idea that nothing is more tiresome than being assaulted by old ideas conquered long ago
 
Unfortunately, that is exactly how I feel when confronted with the Body without Organs (or even the body without image). It belongs to a lost era of decoded flows and the schizo-implosion of subjectivity. Does anyone still think in these terms today? 
 
The fact is, it has been thirty years since Mark Fisher began his thesis, over fifty since Deleuze and Guattari borrowed the BwO from Artaud to critique capitalism, and eighty since Artaud himself decided to have done with the judgment of God.

Granted, theoretical concepts mutate; the BwO can be recontextualised to map algorithmic data streams or track how large language models unfold beyond human organisation. But Deleuze-Guattarian studies are now so heavily institutionalised that one can hardly bear to hear about the BwO, or planes of immanence, or becoming this, that, or the other.
 
When these concepts exploded in the 1990s via the CCRU (Cybernetic Culture Research Unit), they were genuinely radical and capable of destabilising old and orthodox ways of thinking. But today, a schizoanalytic philosophy designed to evade capture has been completely assimilated, reducing the BwO to just another tedious topic for endless discussion in peer-reviewed journals by academics who still think it's a metaphor. 
   
 
III. 

Apologies, dear reader, for this slight digression. But I felt I had to say something and say it in the main body of the post for fear it may be overlooked if consigned to the notes. Having said it, we can now return to Fisher's book ...
 
Horror, says Fisher, is not simply horrifying and horrific, it is also kind of sexy and Gothic Materialism "apprehends horror not merely negatively but also as [...] an abstract erotics whose programme is the opening up of the organism into desiring-circuits: the production of what Cronenberg calls 'New Flesh'" (79). 
 
Thus, the BwO is both terrifying and desirable. It is also without an image; you can represent the organism, but not the body and its potential, "which is always abstract and unknowable" (80). 
 
That is to say, nobody knows what a body can do - and nobody knows what a body looks like; least of all those staring at pornographic images, a point made powerfully by D. H. Lawrence who condemns porn as a self-conscious "flaunting of the body in its non-physical, merely optical aspect" [c].
 
Fisher, I'm told, did not like Lawrence - despite the fact that Lawrence was, according to Deleuze, one of the four great heirs to Spinoza [d]. And that's a pity, because Lawrence was attacking the organism (or what he termed the corpse-body) and seeking ways to free the body from its automatic reactions, long before Artaud.
 
The key point, however - on which I think all are agreed - is that the body is not a container of mind or spirit; the organism, however, is the container of the flesh (what we might term a body bag). It is thus never a question of liberating the subject from their body, no matter what certain idealists and religious teachers think, but of exploring the body as a site of depersonalised potential
 
 
IV.
 
Section 2.5 of Flatline Constructs is about something that some commentators - such as Steven Connor, for example - regard as modern man's most human aspect and the subject of endless fascination among many well-known critical and cultural theorists: skin [e].
 
Fisher, however, is interested in how technology essentially flays mankind; that is to say, transforms the body into an open, mediatised circuit by eliminating the boundary once formed by skin, thereby dissolving still further the idea of interiority and allowing human consciousness to circulate within digital networks.  
 
In fact, he seems more than merely interested in this; seems to be positively in favour of such an epidermal crisis and to delight in the fact that "the skin is no longer a secure marker of organic integrity" (88) and that man, in an age of cybernetic hyperconnectivity, is no longer self-contained.
 
For Fisher, as a Gothic Materialist, being skinned alive or, essentially, turned inside out (everted)is not a horrific trauma to be avoided, but to be welcomed. However, whilst I understand where he's coming from, I do have certain reservations. 
 
Indeed, if we follow Deleuze and Guattari's actual instructions for constructing a BwO, they explicitly warn against this kind of wild, unprecautious destratification [f]. To violently blow apart the strata and fling oneself into digital networks risks producing not a site of joyous potential, but a suicidal collapse.
 
Perhaps Lawrence is right after all, and the secret to achieving what the Greeks termed εὐδαιμονία is "remaining inside your own skin, and living inside your own skin, and not pretending you're any bigger than you are" [g].
 
 
V. 

Sometimes, when reading Fisher back in his CCRU days and under the sway of Nick Land, I come over a bit Bill Grundyish and feel like putting to him the question that the latter put to the Sex Pistols back on that fateful day in December 1976: Are you serious, or are you just trying to make me laugh? [h]
 
Actually, I suspect despite a certain dark humour, Fisher was being (un)deadly serious in Flatline Constructs and not just looking to provoke or outrage his examiners. In fact, there are times when Fisher is a little overearnest for my tastes. Nevertheless, he does write some immensely interesting stuff - including the material on numbness, narcissism and schizophrenia in section 2.6.
 
Referencing the work of, among others, McLuhan and Baudrillard, Fisher examines how alienation gives way to integration; i.e., man's becoming one with his own circuits, networks, and screens and how this results in the loss of both public and private spaces: "'The one is no longer a spectacle, the other is no longer private'", as Baudrillard says (quoted here on p. 93). 
 
That has many consequences, including the fact that there is now nowhere to hide; hence the obscenity of pornified postmodern culture and the move from narcissism to schizophrenia - for what's unfolding is no longer about self-love, but, rather, the "inability to distinguish self from other" (94) or from the digital environment. 
 
Fisher writes:
 
"The concern, in postmodern theory, with schizophrenia, is, in large part, a registering of this cybernetic account of subjectivity, a sense that the self can no longer be properly distinguished from the multiplicity of circuits that traverse it." (95)
 
It's all too much: we are literally overwhelmed (which was always likely to be the outcome of shedding our skin); the schizophrenic experience can be defined (philosophically, rather than clinically) as "a surfeit, rather than a paucity, of reality" (96). On this, Baudrillard is in complete agreement with Deleuze and Guattari. 
 
If you thought simulation was the only thing you had to worry about, think again; overstimulation is at least as great an issue. And William Gibson even coins the handy term simstim to describe what underlies all the latest technological innovations. 
 
Today, our perception has been decoded into a set of triggerable stimulations capable of simulating any possible experience, and this "simulation of particular affective states by direct neuronic stimulation" (98) is one of the great themes of cyberpunk fiction and cinema (it's central, of course, to Cronenberg's Videodrome).   
   
Fisher concludes:
 
"Hence the relation between the human organism and its technical environment becomes understood not any longer in terms of organic extensions, but of dependence-circuitries." (99)
 
We are hooked to (and on) our machines and the stimuli they supply [i].   

 
VI.
 
When Cronenberg's Videodrome was released in UK cinemas in November 1983, it was given an 18 certificate by the British Board of Film Classification as it contained scenes of strong sex and violence. As Fisher would have only been fifteen at the time, I doubt he saw it until some time later [j]. 
 
I went with my on-off girlfriend Gillian Hall to see the film in March of the following year, at the ABC in Leeds city centre (£2.30 for admission). Gillian was much more a fan of body horror than me and I suspect I only went along because Debbie Harry (as kinky therapist Nicki Brand) featured in a number of nude scenes.   
 
Anyway, I was not impressed: 
 
The film - despite rave reviews and some amusing special effects - was shit. Neither one thing nor another; not quite a psychosexual thriller; not quite a sci-fi horror story. Just a lot of stuff and nonsense. [k]   
  
Fisher, however, LOVES the film:
 
"Cronenberg's Videodrome has achieved its 'canonic' status because of its almost emblematic staging of the convergence of cybernetic and Gothic themes [...] as it passes across the so-called animate and inanimate [...] making the distinction between organic and inorganic increasingly untenable. In particular, it focuses on media - especially the so-called postmodern media of TV and video, and the still nascent technologies of Virtual Reality - as assemblages which reconfigure the body in new ways, opening it up to desiring-trajectories that have as their corollary a new - cybernetic - account of power." (100)
 
Videodrome, says Fisher, perfectly illustrates what happens when a body is not extended by technology, but invaginated and "literally overwhelmed by an unimaginable quantity of stimuli" (100).   
 
I suppose that's a rather more insightful - certainly more receptive - commentary than mine (to be fair, I was writing in a diary having just turned twenty-one and not in a doctoral thesis approaching thirty - although, having said that, I was completing a degree in sociology and media, so might have been expected to say something a bit more than this).  
 
 
VII. 
 
Still discussing Videodrome, Fisher argues that what makes the film "fit so closely with Baudrillard's theorisations" (101) is the fact that it emphasises the tactile over the optical and reveals the world of communications technology to be all about obscene closeness
 
Ultimately, nothing is more unheimlich than a TV set; "a disturbing presence in the heart of the domestic scene" (106). You think you're watching it, but actually it's ravishing your very being; you think the set is plugged into the wall, but actually it's you who's plugged in to the network.
 
Desire is captured by images and the body is "slaved into idiotic compulsive-repetitive behaviours" (109-110) by the triggering of these images - which could, of course, serve as the very definition of pornography. It's "a cybernetic (re)engineering of the body, rather than a simple matter of optical stimulation" (111).
 
 
VIII. 
 
As I said in an earlier post in this series on Flatline Constructs, I'm not a fan of William Burroughs - but I do like Ballard and so was interested to see what Fisher had to say about the latter in relation to his Gothic Materialism ...
 
In sum, he positions Ballard's The Atrocity Exhibition (1970) as a foundational, hypernaturalist precursor to cyberpunk that demonstrates how modern technology and human 'psychology' collapse into a singular cybernetic system and how life today unfolds in a media landscape whose violent images act directly upon the nervous system, causing a schizophrenic loss of agency. 
 
If that sounds traumatic, it's because it is traumatic. But - and this is important - Ballard generalises the concept: "Rather than treating trauma as something with which the organism is affected only contingently, Ballard implies that trauma is a general condition [...] across a culture [...]" (120-121), propagated by media. 
 
Trauma, in other words, is now the "very mode of experience itself" (122) and Ballard seems happy to "hunt out and obsessively pore over trauma" (126).  
 
 
IX. 
 
Fisher also shows how Ballard's novel also illustrates his notion of the Gothic flatline; a plane of immanence cutting across vitalism and mechanism. Ballard is highly skilled at, on the one hand, treating human bodies with a cold, geometric objecthood, whilst, on the other hand, allowing inanimate things such as billboards and motor cars to possess strange, intensive agencies. 
 
Drawing a lineage that connects Ballard to his favourite theorists, Fisher notes that The Atrocity Exhibition captures our overstimulated era. However, unlike Baudrillard - whom Fisher criticises for a loss of nerve and a fall into neo-primitivism and nostalgia - Fisher argues that Ballard dares to fully embrace the world as a dynamic - but flat - landscape in which it is impossible to distinguish figures from background.  
 
Ballard's fictions - "anti-organcist and cybernetic" (115) - basically serve as instruction manuals for decoding this spinal landscape [l]. And The Atrocity Exhibition in particular offers the "most sustained theory-fictional account of contemporary media culture in terms of the spinal landscape" (118). It's thus a radically new type of work - Science Fiction without any of the usual tropes or clichés of SF.   
 
It's also a new type of work which, like Videodrome, displaces bio-sexuality: "The novel performs a decoding of sex into a matter of stimuli that are not themselves sexual [...]" (127). Baudrillard, writing of Crash, will speak of a "deterritorialised and disorganicised eroticism; a cyberotics" (127). 
 
Fisher explains: this is not a matter of "simply substituting technical machines for biological sexual objects, but of decoding sexuality into a matter of abstract stimulus" (127), nor of "selling commodities by associating them with sex" (127). It is, rather, a question of a "generalised libidinisation in which bio-sex is no longer the privileged referent" (127).          
  
Writing in The Atrocity Exhibition, Ballard obliges us to ask: "' in what way is intercourse per vagina more stimulating than with this ashtray, say, or with the angle between two walls'" (quoted by Fisher on p. 127). Farewell and fuck off to all those old-school erogeneous zones, says Baudrillard with a laugh, whilst Fisher closes his chapter on a rather more serious note concerning the deterritorialisation of sexuality and the emergence of new desires
   
"One could theorise these either as a hypersexuality - a sexuality that has escaped genital, even biotic reference, or as a post- or anti-sexuality - desires that it no longer makes any sense to describe in sexual terms." (128)   
 
Fisher's following chapter in Flatline Constructs (chapter three), is not so much concerned with cyberotics, however, but with the question of how on earth do bodies without sexual organs reproduce themselves ...
 
 
Notes
 
[a] All page numbers given in the post refer to this edition of Flatline Constructs.   
 
[b] This is an idea Fisher traces back to Freud, who famously says that with every tool, "man is perfecting his own organs [...] or removing the limits to their functioning'" (87).  
 
[c] D. H. Lawrence, 'Men Must Work and Women as Well', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 282. 
      According to Lawrence, the less individuals receive and transmit the flow of desire, the more desperately do they expose their flesh and obsess over their body image. However, in or out of her knickers makes very little difference to the desirability of the modern woman, says Lawrence, because she's "an assertive conscious entity, cut off like a doll from any mystery. And her nudity is as interesting as a doll's." See '...... Love Was Once a Little Boy', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 346. 
      I explore all this in Outside the Gate (University of Warwick, 2000) - the doctoral thesis I was completing in the philosophy department whilst Fisher was working on Flatline Constructs. See part one of chapter four - or, if referring to the Blind Cupid Press book (2010), see chapter 11 in part four (pp. 211-232).      
 
[d] Matt Colquhoun confirmed to me in a recent email (7 May 2026) that Fisher hated Lawrence. 
      Deleuze, however, was a huge fan of Eastwood's favourite son and, as indicated, named Lawrence along with Nietzsche, Kafka and Artaud as one of the four great heirs to Spinoza; see the essay 'To Have Done with Judgement', in Gilles Deleuze, Essays Critical and Clinical, trans. Daniel W. Smith and Michael E. Greco (Verso, 1998), pp. 126-135. And see also my post on this idea dated 10 Jan 2026: click here
 
[e] In The Book of Skin (Cornell University, 2004), pp. 9-10, Connor writes: 
      "The skin asserts itself in the erotics of texture, tissue and tegument played out through the work of Roland Barthes; in the concern of Emmanuel Levinas with the exposed skin of the face, as the sign of essential ethical nudity before the other [...] the extraordinary elaborations of the play of bodily surfaces, volumes and membranes in Derrida's concepts of double invagination [...] the concept of the fold in the rethinking of subjective and philosophical depth in the work of Gilles Deleuze; the fascination with the intrigues of the surface in the work of Baudrillard; and the abiding presence of skin in the work of Jean-François Lyotard, from the arresting evocation of the opened out skin of the planar body at the beginning of his Libidinal Economy through to the Levinsian emphasis on the annunciatory powers of skin at moments through The Inhuman. Most strikingly of all [...] there has been the prominence of the skin in the meditations on place, shape and the 'mixed body' of Michel Serres. Across all this work, as ubiquitously in modern experience, the skin insists." 
     
[f] See Deleuze and Guattari writing in A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (The Athlone Press, 1988), pp. 150 and 160-161.  
      When building a BwO, they explicitly advocate the injection of small doses of caution as crucial to what is, after all, a highly experimental practice; one that can easily result in "a dreary parade of sucked-dry, catatonicized, vitrified, sewn-up bodies" rather than bodies full of "gaiety, ecstasy, and dance".
      Deleuze and Guattari insist dismantling the organism has nothing to do with the death drive: "You have to keep enough of the organism for it to reform each dawn [...] and you have to keep small rations of subjectivity in sufficient quantity to enable you to respond to the dominant reality. [...] You don't reach the BwO, and its plane of consistency, by wildly destratifying." 
      The knack is to "patiently and momentarily dismantle the organization of the organs we call the organism" - don't just empty out your organs or flay yourself. If you do that - "if you blow apart the strata without taking precautions", then bad things will happen. "Staying stratified - organized, signified, subjected - is not the worst that can happen; the worst that can happen is if you throw the strata into demented or suicidal collapse, which brings them back down on us heavier than ever." 
       
[g] D. H. Lawrence, 'Education of the People', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 161.
 
[h] Bill Grundy interviewed the Sex Pistols on the Today programme on 1 December 1976. It didn't quite go to plan and resulted in a fury of tabloid headlines and national outrage. A transcript of the interview can be read here. And the actual interview can be watched here.  
 
[i] This part of Fisher's 1999 thesis has held up very well - in fact, is probably truer now than then; our algorithmic landscape is precisely an overwhelming dependence-circuitry designed to trigger affective states via direct neuronic feedback loops (endless notifications, doomscrolling, etc.).  
 
[j] It could be, of course, that Fisher first saw Videodrome on home video and not at the cinema. The original VHS release (1987), however, was a cut version of the original film; the distributors (CIC Video) responding to pressure to remove some of the more graphic material (the UK at this time was in a state of moral panic over so-called video nasties). The uncut version wasn't available on video until the re-release in August 1990.  

[k] Entry in The Von Hell Diaries dated Thurs 29 March 1984. 

[l] As Fisher notes: "Like much of Ballard's most important imagery, the concept of the spinal landscape is derived from surrealism." (118)

 
For other posts in this series on Fisher's Flatline Constructs, click here.  
 
 

4 Jun 2026

Fanged Noumena: To Learn from Trakl is to Howl at the Moon

Messrs. Land & Trakl
 
'Two wolves in the sinister Wood / We mixed our blood in a stony embrace  
And the stars of our race fell upon us.' [1]
 
 
I. 
 
I once published some notes on the case of the Aquarian Expressionist poet Georg Trakl in which I praised his love of silence and admired the blueness of his twilight [2]. No one can deny that there are many arresting - and disturbing - images in his work, as he sets about exploiting the often uncanny ambiguity of the German language. 
 
Wittgenstein was an admirer; Heidegger was an admirer; and Nick Land is also a fan, although he responds in very much his own manner to Trakl whom he regards as an archetypal poète maudit - one who embraced his own lycanthropic nature and thus made a radical break from humanity and its ovine idealism. 
 
 
II. 
 
In his essay 'Spirit and Teeth', Land celebrates the fact that Trakl offers no hope of redemption - neither in his writings nor in his actual life, which is short and not particularly pleasant, involving incest, depression, and a fatal drug-overdose aged 27. 
 
He condemns Heidegger (and Derrida) for trying to spiritualise Trakl and ignore the libidinal tension in his work; the fact that to write as Trakl writes is to write in blood and with rabid impatience: "Trakl took very little time over anything." [3]      
 
Like Rimbaud, Trakl belongs to an inferior race outside of civilisation; a race that is "irresponsible and nomadic" [4], but which possesses sharp teeth with which to bite. 
 
 
III. 
 
Land also wrote an earlier text on Trakl, based on his PhD work at Essex [5]. Titled 'Narcissism and Dispersion', it's a reading of Heidegger's 1953 interpretation of Trakl and it arguably provides justification for Land's war against Heidegger's circular hermeneutics and his "repugnant obstinacy and piety" [6].  
 
I mentioned that in 'Spirit and Teeth' Land rejects Heidegger's efforts to spiritualise and pacify Trakl. Well, in 'Narcissism and Dispersion' we witness how Heidegger attempts this by treating language like a closed (narcissistic and masturbatory) loop; something that only ever concerns itself with itself. 
 
Land counters this with an idea of dispersion [Zerstreuung], insisting that what's important about Trakl's poetry is that it allows language to unravel or decompose and leak into a material Outside.  
 
Whilst Heidegger desperately tries to defend Trakl's verse from being read as a symptom of a degenerating, fragmented ego so as to relocate Trakl back into a grand gathering of Geist, Land is having none of this. 
 
For Land, Trakl is not the poet of home sweet home, but of nomadic wandering and his language does not reflect upon itself in quiet isolation; it rapidly spreads like a rash or buzzes like a mad swarm of flies. 
 
For Heidegger, the blueness of twilight indicates a time of peace when the beast has been tamed; for Land, the latter is forever untameable and wild blueness is akin to what, as a Lawrentian, I would term chaos (the desire for which forms the very essence of poetry) [7].
 
 
IV.
 
So, on the one hand, we have Heidegger's reading of Trakl ... one that sanitises the latter by downplaying the drug-induced mania and seeks to pass off the work as a (mystical) affirmation of Being in order to reinforce his own philosophy.   
 
On the other hand, we have Land's reading of Trakl ... one that celebrates the latter by emphasising its feral character and seeks to pass off the work as a (filthy and furious) affirmation of base materialism in order to reinforce his own philosophy. 
 
Heidegger suggests that Trakl’s language is essentially singing the song of a homecoming - the movement of humanity away from its current alienated, fallen state and toward a primordial beginning.
 
Land says it's a werewolf's howling.
 
The question is: Would Trakl have preferred Heidegger's reading of his work, or Nick Land's?   
 
Obviously, we can never know the answer for sure - and it's highly probable he would have disliked both - but I like to believe that, if forced to choose, Trakl would prefer the latter and recognise himself a little better in Land's reading which, whilst highly theoretical, nevertheless contains something of the ecstatic nihilism that characterised his writing.
 
Having said that, Trakl scholars almost universally prefer Heidegger's reading over Land's and Heidegger's work is treated as foundational (even if problematic and at times deeply flawed). Land remains seen (at best) as an eccentric, peripheral figure by the Academy. 
 
The fact that his interpretation of Trakl is highly regarded within certain marginalised circles and subcultures (and on blogs like this) only confirms their idea of Land as someone who arouses fellow lunatics but has very little to offer serious scholars within the field of German literary studies who, much like Heidegger, after reading Trakl's poems are able to simply lay down their books, close their eyes, and enjoy a good night's sleep [8].  
 
 

   
Notes
 
[1] Georg Trakl, 'Passion', in Poems and Prose: A Bilingual Edition, trans. Alexander Stillmark (Northwestern University Press, 2005), p. 302. 
      These lines are quoted by Land in his essay 'Spirit and Teeth' (1993), see note 3 below
 
[2] See the post 'Drinking the Silence: Notes on the Case of Georg Trakl' (17 Dec 2018): click here.  
 
[3] Nick Land, 'Spirit and Teeth', in Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings 1987-2007, ed. Robin Mackay and Ray Brassier (Urbanomic / Sequence Press, 2011), pp. 175-201. The line quoted is on p. 181.
      This essay was originally published in Of Derrida, Heidegger, and Spirit, ed. David Wood (Northwestern University Press, 1993), pp. 41-55.  
 
[4] Nick Land, 'Spirit and Teeth', in Fanged Noumena ... p. 183. 
 
[5] Land received his PhD in 1987 from the University of Essex under the supervision of David Farrell Krell. His thesis focused on Martin Heidegger's 1953 essay 'Language in the Poem' [Die Sprache im Gedicht] and its interpretation of the poetry of Georg Trakl.
 
[6] Nick Land, 'Narcissism and Dispersion in Heidegger's 1953 Trakl Interpretation', in Fanged Noumena ... p. 118. This essay first appeared in Philosophers' Poets, ed. David Wood (Routledge, 1990), pp. 72-90.  
 
[7] I'm thinking here of Lawrence's essay 'Chaos in Poetry' - much loved by Deleuze and Guattari - which served as an introduction to Harry Crosby's poetry collection Chariot of the Sun (Black Sun Press, 1931).
      The essay can be found in D. H. Lawrence, Introductions and Reviews, ed. N. H. Reeve and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 107-116.
 
[8] I'm paraphrasing Land's ending to 'Narcissism and Dispersion'. Land regarded Heidegger as an exhausted and ageing philosopher with Platonic instincts who "felt nauseous at the thought of losing control, and perhaps still believed in God". Fanged Noumena, p. 121. 
 
 

26 May 2026

On Sexiness (With Reference to Malcolm McLaren's Shallow 1-21)

 
A still from Malcolm McLaren's Shallow 1-21 (2008) 
showing a woman slowly eating some grapes in a sexy fashion 
 
'What excites today - after the orgy as Baudrillard would say - 
isn't explicit pornography, but very slow-moving portraits of people 
thinking about, desiring, wanting, wishing for, and imagining having sex.' 
 
 
I. 
 
D. H. Lawrence famously equates sex with beauty, insisting that they are one and the same thing; "like flame and fire" [1] and that sex appeal is, therefore, the appeal of living beauty. 
 
Barthes, however, isn't having any of this. 
 
For Barthes, the sexiness of a body has nothing to do with its beauty. Rather, it "inheres in the fact that it is possible to discern (to fantasise) in it the erotic practice to which one subjects it in thought" [2].     
 
That's a definition which would make Lawrence splutter in his tea. He'd accuse Barthes of having his sex in his head (to be fair, the above does very much lend itself to such a reading). 
 
But it's a definition that I think Malcolm McLaren would have immediately understood and appreciated; for, in a sense, it provides the key with which to unlock the secret of his multimedia artwork titled Shallow 1-21 (2008). 
 
 
II. 
 
Consisting of a series of what he liked to call musical paintings, the work combines some of McLaren's favourite songs and pieces of music with appropriated video clips from vintage films of people just before they engage in sexual acts, looping moments of heavy breathing, the parting of lips, or the slow unbuttoning of a shirt [3].
 
By focusing entirely on the excitement of anticipation rather than explicit acts, McLaren conceptualised the 86-minute work as a subversion of pornography and hoped to demonstrate the truth of Casanova's famous claim that the finest of all moments in the game of love comes when one is climbing the stairs [4].    

III.
 
Lawrence, of course, would hate McLaren's film. 
 
But Barthes, I think, would have appreciated the work. Indeed, it might be argued that, in some manner, Shallow is a version of Barthes's projected work on sexuality.
 
Enchanted by a young couple sitting opposite him on the train - "the woman is blonde, made up; she is wearing big dark glasses, reads Paris-Match; she has a ring on each finger, and each nail on both hands is painted a different colour from its two neighbours" [5] - Barthes conceives the idea of a new book (or of a film). 
 
In this work, there would be "nothing but secondary sex characteristics (nothing pornographic); in it one would grasp (would try to grasp) the sexual 'personality' of each body, which is neither its beauty nor even its 'sexiness' but the way in which each sexuality immediately lets itself be read" [6].
 
From this, one can see why Barthes once described himself as a homotextual
 
He continues:
 
"For the young blonde with the harlequin nails and her young husband with his tight pants and warm eyes were wearing their couple-sexuality like the legion-of-honour ribbon in a buttonhole (sexuality and respectability relating to the same kind of display), and this legible sexuality [...] filled the compartment, by an irresistible metonymy, much more certainly than any series of coquetries." [7]   
 
 
Notes
 
[1] D. H. Lawrence 'Sex Appeal', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 145. For a discussion of this piece, see the post dated 24 September 2018: click here.  
 
[2] Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes, trans. Richard Howard (Papermac 1995), p. 164.  
 
[3] McLaren developed the first eight videos for Shallow in 2007 for a New York group show. He completed the rest of the 21 musical paintings in 2008, officially premiering the entire collection at Art Basel in Switzerland in June 2008. 
      For those readers who might be interested, McLaren discusses the work on Artforum (16 July 2008): click here
 
[4] Interestingly, Michel Foucault points out that whilst this may well have been true within an eighteenth-century heterosexual context, the reverse is probably the case within the world of homosexuality. Foucault claims that the modern homosexual would be more likely to say something along the lines of: The best moment of love is when the lover leaves in the taxi
      He explains: "It is when the act is over and the boy is gone that one begins to dream about the warmth of his body, the quality of his smile, the tone of his voice. It is the recollection rather than the anticipation of the act that assumes a primary importance in homosexual relations. This is why the great homosexual writers of our culture (Cocteau, Genet, Burroughs) can write so elegantly about the sexual act itself, because the homosexual imagination is for the most part concerned with reminiscing about the act rather than anticipating it." 
      This brilliant observation was made in the interview conducted by James O'Higgins titled 'Sexual Choice, Sexual Act'. It can be found in Foucault Live: Collected Interviews, 1961-1984, ed. Sylvère Lotringer, trans. Lysa Hochroth and John Johnston (Semiotext[e], 1996), pp. 322-334. The lines quoted above are on page 330. 
 
[5] Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes ... p. 164. 
      The interview can also be read in the American quarterly magazine Salmagundi, No. 58/59 (Fall 1982 - Winter 1983): click here to read online.  
 
[6] Ibid.
 
[7] Ibid.
 
 
For a related post to this on the politics of accelerationism contra slowness with reference to Shallow 1-21, which was published on 11 April 2025, click here.  
 
 

22 May 2026

A Thing of Beauty in the Abstract: on the Sexiness of the Periodic Table (A Post for Ian Buxton)

Blair Bradshaw: Periodic Table (2013) 
Oil on canvas (30" x 72") [1]
 
 
I. 
 
In a recent 6/20 paper on paraphilia [2], I claimed that desire needn't be constrained and shaped purely by our own human experience and capacity and that once desire is liberated, then we are free to love anything and everything and not just anyone - including animals, plants, and atypical objects of every description. 
 
This is not, however, to posit a model of pansexualism: I'm not saying all is sex [3]. What I am suggesting, rather, is that an element of libidinal energy is invested in everything we do and that desire is what brings things "which otherwise are incommensurable" [4] into touch. 
 
In other words, desire - which has no fixed essence and therefore evades definition - can best be thought of in terms of how it functions as a "strange current of interchange" [5] flowing between bodies (including abstract, virtual, or artificial bodies). 
 
As Deleuze and Guattari argue, if you examine the social field closely enough, you'll find that beneath the conscious investments of economic, political, and religious formations, "there are unconscious sexual investments, microinvestments that attest to the way in which desire is present" [6]          
 
Thus, sexuality exists even in the way that a bureaucrat fondles his records [7] - or, we might add, in the strange manner that the periodic table exerts its allure upon a scientist.
 
 
II.
 
The periodic table is an ordered arrangement of chemical elements into rows and columns based on their assigned atomic number [8]. It's both a marvellous product of the scientific imagination and an iconic piece of graphic design [9].  
 
Of course, I'm aware that one must exercise a certain degree of caution here; that the periodic table is first and foremost a visual record of scientific knowledge rather than a work of the artistic imagination. Russian chemist Dmitri Mendeleev was almost certainly more concerned with physics than aesthetics when he produced the first periodic table in 1869 [10] and, ultimately, it's determined by function rather than form.
      
Nevertheless, it relies heavily on certain design principles to do with layout and colour in order to translate highly complex scientific laws into a pleasing and accessible format and anyone who cannot see the elemental beauty in it must be blind. 
 
And beauty, of course, isn't tied to truth or goodness, so much as to sex appeal. Thus, we can say that not only is its vertical and horizontal cross-referencing lovely to look at, it also communicates a sense of joy and warmth. My critics at the 6/20 may not like to admit the fact, but for certain men a body of knowledge is more seductive, and more arousing, than that of even the most comely young wench.  
 
 
III.
 
To understand this allure, one might look past the design aesthetic and consider the libidinally material behaviour of the elements themselves. For the periodic table is perhaps best thought of as a map of highly eroticised intensities. 
 
Take, for instance, the alkali metals sodium (Na), potassium (K), and caesium (Cs). Hyper-reactive and volatile, these elements are driven by a desperate, unstable promiscuity. They cannot bear to exist in isolation and will explosively couple with almost any partner in a flash of consummating heat.
 
At the opposite end of this behavioural spectrum lie the noble gases helium (He), neon (Ne), and argon (Ar). Embodying a mixture of coldness, cruelty and self-contained celibacy, they refuse to bond or even flirt with the rest of the chemical universe. Theirs is an erotics of absolute refusal and pristine isolation - until that is a sudden, intense electrical current causes them to glow with the ecstasy of one who has been ravished.   
 
Between these extremes lie tactile and toxic temptations such as quicksilver (Hg) - a queer, elusive liquid metal that defies the standard boundaries of its state. 
 
But of course, for me - as a writer and homotextual - the seduction of the periodic table lies more in the wonderfully evocative and allusive names of the elements that roll off the tongue with almost liturgical sensuality: from the dark gothic beauty of cobalt (Co) [11]; to the celestial beauty of selenium (Se) [12]. 
 
If, as Einstein once suggested, the mathematical formulations of science are the poetry of logical ideas, then to read the periodic table aloud is to recite a chant of desire; a poetic incantation where language itself becomes a site of bliss. 
 
So, when 6/20 regular Ian Buxton asks if the periodic table is sexy, the answer is obviously - and resoundingly - Yes! [13]  
  
 
Notes
 
[1] Blair Bradshaw is a contemporary American artist known for his visually striking paintings of the periodic table of the elements. His work blends the scientific data with an aesthetic interpretation of human experience, thereby giving familiar elements whole new meaning (often of a whimsical character). Physically large in size, his pieces are created using diverse mediums, including oil on canvas, oil on paper, and wood. 
      For a discussion of Bradshaw's work, see the adapted extract from Tami I. Spector's article 'The Art of the Periodic Table', posted on The MIT website (4 Feb 2021): click here. The full piece can be found in Leonardo, Vol. 52, Issue 3 (June 2019). 
      In brief, Spector argues that the intersection of art and science has the potential to build new insights, ideas, and processes beneficial to both disciplines. She also makes the interesting observation that Bradshaw "elevates the iconography of the periodic table, using its form to create visual-linguistic connections and rearranging and isolating the elements into clever wordplay". In other words, for Bradshaw, it's the cultural associations and linguistic connotations that most excite about the periodic table.
 
[2] See the Events page on Torpedo the Ark for details of the paper: click here
      The 6/20 Club is a twice-monthly salon graciously hosted by Christian Michel at his west London home. Established for over twenty years, it has seen an impressive assortment of speakers present papers on a huge number of topics.  
 
[3] D. H. Lawrence, '...... Love Was Once a Little Boy', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 339.
 
[4] The politics of desire is far more subtle and further reaching than a naive form of pansexualism. Lawrence was always insistent on this point. Thus, even if an element of sex enters every aspect of human life, this does not mean everything can or should be reduced to sex. Greater even than the sex impulse is the creative impulse; it is the latter - not the will to love - that is the world-forming drive. 
      See chapter IX of his Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele (CUP, 2004). And see chapter 11 of my Outside the Gate (Blind Cupid press, 2010), where I discuss this.    
 
[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'Dana's Two Years Before the Mast', in Studies in Classic American Literature, ed. Ezra Greenspan, Lindeth Vasey, and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 109.
 
[6] Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane (The Athlone Press, 1994), p. 183. 
 
[7] See Deleuze and Guattari writing in Anti-Oedipus ... p. 293. The passage reads: "The truth is sexuality is everywhere: the way a bureaucrat fondles his records, a judge administers justice, a business man causes money to circulate ..." D&G are also keen to emphasise that this is not merely a metaphor. 
 
[8] Elements are organised in horizontal rows - known as periods - by their increasing atomic numbers. The vertical columns - or groups - represent elements with similar electronic structures and properties.  
 
[9] For an interesting short piece discussing the periodic table by graphic designer and visual communications expert Tony Pritchard, see Eye, Vol. 20, Issue 78 (Winter, 2010), please click here.  
 
[10] It might be noted that Mendeleev did not actually know about atomic numbers in 1869; he organised elements by atomic weight. The physical basis for atomic numbers was discovered by English physicist Henry Moseley in 1913. 
      Before Moseley's work, atomic numbers were simply a placeholder for an element's position on the periodic table. Moseley used X-ray spectroscopy to measure the characteristic wavelengths of various elements, revealing that the square root of an X-ray's frequency is directly proportional to its atomic number. This breakthrough - known as Moseley's Law - allowed him to reorganise the periodic table by atomic number rather than atomic weight, correcting long-standing inconsistencies in Mendeleev's original table. 
 
[11] The word cobalt derives from the German word kobold, the name of evil underground goblins and given to the ore by medieval German miners because the rock was considered not only worthless, but emitted toxic fumes when smelted.   
 
[12] The word selenium is from the Greek word selēnē [σελήνη], meaning moon (though this is not related to its silvery colour when existing in its most stable form). 
 
[13] Ian Buxton mistakenly thought I wasn't being serious when I answered in the affirmative to his question 'Is there anything sexy about the periodic table?' Normally, I would let such a misunderstanding pass. But, just for once, I wanted to let it be known that while I might present my work in a relatively light-hearted manner, I do, as a matter of fact, take the ideas fairly seriously. 
      Similarly, if I choose not to discuss things at length or in depth at the 6/20, that's because I think of it not as an academic space, but as a forum in which speakers are invited to please their audiences by playing with ideas, rather than engage in an aggressive form of dialectics or intellectual sparring.          
 
 
This post is for Christian and Jennifer (my co-presenter on the night) - and with special thanks to Maria, Dawn, Fatima, Ruth, Soko, and Rebecca. 
 
 
SA and Christian Michel at the 6/20 
(20 May 2026)
Photo by Maria Thanassa 
 

14 May 2026

Torpedo the Ark Goes k-punk: A Little Bit More Politics (Sections VII - XIII)

Марк Фишер: Кислотный коммунист
(SA/2026)
 
Note: All page references in this post are to Mark Fisher's k-punk: 
The Collected and Unpublished Writings of Mark Fisher (2004 - 2016)
ed. Darren Ambrose (Repeater Books, 2018). 
 
 
VII. 
 
Fisher may have hated D. H. Lawrence, but perhaps he might have appreciated Lawrence's idea of a democracy of touch [a], as one of his criticisms of the smartphone and other forms of touchscreen technology is that they involve touch devoid of any sensuality
 
"When the fingers encounter the glassy surface of the iPhone, everything they touch on the screen feels the same. The fingers are effectively acting as extensions of the eye and the brain - an eye and brain that have now been radically re-habituated by cyberspace." (487) 
 
Fisher thinks it astonishing that this line of thought was anticipated by Baudrillard in the 1980s - but even more remarkable is the fact that Lawrence foresaw all this in the 1920s. 
 
And like Tanizaki, Lawrence also wrote in praise of shadows, which, rather surprisingly, Fisher calls for the cultivation of in addition to the carving out of spaces "beyond the hyper-bright instant" (487). I so much prefer this poetic-philosophical Mark Fisher to the one who bangs on about politics and the financial crisis of 2008. 
 
 
VIII. 
 
The phrase that best sums up Fisher's utopian phase - his acid communism - is red plenty (a phrase he borrows from Francis Spufford's 2010 book of that title). It refers to the collective capacity of the People to "produce, care and enjoy" (510) and is the thing which, he says, capitalism is set up to block: 
 
"The attack on capital has to be fundamentally based on the simple insight that, far from being about 'wealth creation', capital necessarily and always blocks our access to this common wealth." (510) 
 
In a post-capitalist future, technological advancements and the communist re-ordering of society will provide abundance for all: "Everything for everyone" (510), including bread and roses. Gone forever will be the days of artificial scarcity. 
 
Further, everyone will feel a sense of red belonging - a sense of belonging that has nothing to do with faith, flag, or family and cannot be "reduced to the chauvinistic pleasures that come from being an insider in any group whatsoever" (510-511). 
 
It is, rather, a "special sense of involvement that promised to transfigure all aspects of everyday life in a way that, previously, only religion had promised to, so that even the dreariest task could be imbued with high significance" (511). 
 
The great promise of red plenty and red belonging is that it doesn't matter "where you come from or who you are" (511), you will be cared for unconditionally. 
 
It's clear how this line of thinking might feed into the open borders movement. What's not quite so clear is how such thinking relates to Fisher's own mental health; frankly, I can't see how anyone can promote such ideas without being in some sort of delirium (similar to the mystical state experienced by those who suddenly find God) [b]. 
 
I know some of his more ardent supporters believe that Fisher's speculative nostalgia and hallucinogenic politics is the best way to confront capitalist realism, but for those looking for a rather more practical strategy for transitioning from neoliberalism to a democracy to come, Fisher's work is essentially worthless. It also seems somewhat at odds with his own more pessimistic views and criticism of the moralising left. 
 
In sum: whilst I'm all for the creation of new narratives and conceptual frameworks - and maybe even a little bit of libidinal engineering - Fisher's acid communism fails to convince and red plenty leaves me hungry for something more. 
 
 
IX. 
 
And back to the topic of consciousness-raising ... A practice (or range of practices) that Fisher believes to be of crucial importance to molecular revolution: 
 
"Consciousness-raising opens up the possibility of living, not merely theorising about, a collective experience. It can give us the resources to behave, think and act differently [...]" (514) 
 
For Fisher: 
 
"The roots of any successful struggle will come from people sharing their feelings, especially their feelings of misery and desperation, and together attributing the sources of these feelings to impersonal structures [...] mediated by particular figures to which we must attach populist loathing" (514). 
 
These figures would include, for example, landlords and entrepreneurs, whom Fisher brands as parasites. We might, I would suggest, see this as a succinct definition of what Nietzsche calls ressentiment and which is central to slave morality. 
 
Fisher claims that the aim of consciousness-raising is to produce more compassion "for others and for ourselves" (514), but I worry that his proposed method of consciousness-raising will only generate class hate and make people feel pretty rotten about themselves too; has knowing that others feel as desperate as you do ever really helped? [c] 
 
 
X.
 
Fisher is grateful to Francis Spufford for reminding us all that "when communism was defeated, it wasn't just a particular ideology that disappeared" (518). 
 
No, the demise of communism - and he's thinking here of the USSR - was also "the disappearance of modernism's Promethean dream of a total transformation of human society" (518). 
 
Now you might be forgiven for thinking that's a good thing. For this dream became a dystopian nightmare, did it not? Surely Fisher knows the history of the Soviet Union - and, indeed, he might also be expected to know what happened to Prometheus (for those who don't recall their Ancient Greek mythology, it ended even worse for him than for Trotsky).    
 
Is Fisher really falling back into what Nick Land would call a sentimental indulgence - i.e., the hope that a political revolution will lead to "new productive, perceptual, cognitive and libidinal possibilities" (518). 
 
I don't want to be a postmodern killjoy who radically lowers expectations and crushes dreams, etc. But, really, c'mon! Knowing, Mark, that there's no way back to old school communism [d], why pin your hopes on renewing (and resuming) class solidarity and the building of radical machineries of desire
 
 
XI. 
 
I mentioned above how, for Fisher, "the roots of any successful struggle will come from people sharing their feelings" (514). 
 
And yet, in another text from 2015, titled 'Anti-Therapy', Fisher acknowledges that the idea that "talking about our feelings could be a political act seems counterintuitive" (521) and that this new emotionalism seems closely linked to capitalist realism - born of Tony Blair's "manipulation of the extraordinary grief jamboree that ensued in the immediate wake of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales" (521). 
 
Fisher rightly says that the new emo-politics enforced by New Labour "went far beyond mere mood-setting" (522) - now we all had to possess the right feelings and share them in the approved manner. Blair "led the way in normalising the emotional self-exploitation that was necessary for the final phase of neoliberalism in Britain" (522) - a phase that Fisher amusingly calls spincerity (the public performance of an emotion you may or may not genuinely feel). 
 
It's enough to make one wish for the return of traditional British restraint and resolve; of stiff upper-lips and stoical detachment. However, Fisher sees this as reactionary and posits in contrast a third way (if I can use such a phrase); one based on his reading of Spinoza. 
 
For Spinoza's philosophy "makes the management of emotions central to its project" (524) and aims not to repress feelings, but engineer joy via the use of reason. This, for Fisher, makes Spinoza "a thinker whose work is an indispensable resource for any progressive project" (524) - a view that is not uncommon amongst neo-Marxist thinkers (particularly those influenced by Deleuze and Badiou) [e].  
 
Get Spinoza on board, says Fisher, and talking about our feelings can become a radical political act; "part of a practice of consciousness-raising that makes visible the impersonal and intersubjective structures that ideology normally obscures from us" (530).  
 
  
XII.  
 
This seems at first a rather disingenuous thing to write: 
 
"It's somewhat ironic that theories of the 'Event' have come to the fore [...] at just the moment in history when it has become clear that events in and of themselves don't change anything." (531)
 
For Fisher surely knows that the Event (as conceptualised by philosophers) is extremely rare and has little to do with the events covered by the news media, such as Live Aid, for example, or the G20 protests. The Event - at least as I understand it (inspired by Lawrence) - is a rent in the Great Umbrella; something that allows a glimpse of chaos and the discovery of a new world via the destruction of fixed forms [f].  
 
But perhaps Fisher was thinking of something said by Zarathustra to the effect that what matters more than noisy, violent events are those changes that take place in us in our stillest hours: "'The world revolves, not around the inventors of new noises, but around the inventors of new values: it revolves inaudibly.'" [g] 
 
Heidegger picked up on this idea after the War, when he attempted to purge his notion of Transzendenz - Dasein's ability to start over and transform the world - not only from its conventional ties to metaphysics but to the idea of action. What was required, Heidegger argued, was not some great event, but a form of silent waiting
 
What seems most to worry Fisher is that events often result in euphoric outbursts of feeling "followed by depressive collapse" (531) - but the same could be said of love, no? 
 
Still, if events are the be-all and end-all - if change doesn't happen through them alone - "there are nevertheless moments which function as thresholds, opening up a new terrain of struggle, and allowing different collective emotions to propagate" (532). 
 
Which is basically saying things can still happen out of the blue ...   
 
 
XIII.  
 
Finally, we come to the two short texts, both from 2016, with which part four of k-punk closes; firstly, 'Cybergothic vs Steampunk' and, secondly, 'Mannequin Challenge' ...
 
In the former, Fisher argues that the global terrorist network ISIS "holds up a mirror to twenty-first century capitalist nihilism" (544). A form of nihilism that is essentially a type of existential poverty. We might not like to admit it, but ISIS offer a solution to this (albeit a horrifically false solution). For like criminal gangs and religious cults, ISIS offer those who join fellowship and meaning.    
 
Perhaps more interestingly, Fisher describes ISIS in relation to his concept of the cybergothic:
 
"There are no 'pure' archaisms, nothing ever repeats without difference, and ISIS is properly understood as a cybergothic phenomenon which combines the ancient with the contemporary (beheadings on the web)." (546)
 
And whilst he is obviously not a supporter of ISIS, Fisher - a bit like Foucault, who greeted the Iranian Revolution in 1979 with warm enthusiasm [h] - is excited by "the rising tide of experimental political forms in so many areas of the world at the moment" (546). 
 
And that's because, for him, this shows that "people are rediscovering group consciousness and the potency of the collective" (546).     
 
I can't help wondering whether, if he were alive today, Fisher (like Foucault in his late work) would find it necessary to rethink questions central to the Enlightenment and to liberalism. To concede, for example, that whilst the individual is a political fiction, it's nevertheless a useful one which needs vigorously defending; as does secular society when threatened by militant religious fascism. 
 
In the latter piece, Fisher comments on Donald Trump and his successful campaign in 2016 to become President of the United States. 
 
In contrast to Clinton and her team of "political robots playing out an exhausted programme" (547), Trump's campaign "was possessed of a sense of effervescing excitement, of anarchic unpredictability, the feeling of belonging to a building-movement" (547). 
 
Fisher understands how Trump caught the mood of popular dissatisfaction with capitalist realism and performed with a certain libidinal freedom that was attractive not only to his supporters, but to many who wouldn't vote for him in a million years and were appalled by his rhetoric and immoderation. His campaign may have been ugly, but at least it wasn't boring. 
 
In brief, like many other commentators of a certain generation, Fisher recognised that Trump was the punk candidate (what this tells us about the latter is an interesting question we might discuss one day).   
 
Notes
 
[a] I have written several posts referencing this Lawrentian idea; see, for example, the post dated 14 May 2014 - 'Towards a Democracy of Touch' - click here
      Note that the word 'hated' is used deliberately here; Matt Colquhoun confirmed to me in a recent email (7 May 2026) Fisher's visceral hostility toward Lawrence.
 
[b] Normally, I would not comment on someone's mental health. However, since Fisher and his followers make such a point of politicising depression - arguing that it is a social phenomenon heavily influenced by capitalism rather than a purely chemical or biological issue - I feel justified in doing so.
      Note, however, that my use of the term delirium is not simply intended in the narrow clinical sense, but more in the philo-political sense deployed by Deleuze and Guattari, for whom delirium is a way the unconscious invests in the social field, sometimes opening up revolutionary lines of flight. I suggest that Fisher's vision of acid communism operates as this precise kind of political delirium; an elaborate, idealised alternative reality constructed to escape the immense psychological claustrophobia of capitalist realism. Such a vision of utopia functions as a temporary, internal flight mechanism from profound depression. Suddenly, the world feels meaningful and loving once more. 
      However, as a political strategy, this hallucinogenic clarity borders on a mystical state rather than practical materialist organising. And, unfortunately, such states seldom last; when the speculative fantasy dissolves, the individual comes back down to earth with a bump, resulting in renewed depression. Fisher, as most readers will know, tragically committed suicide less than two years after writing the text discussed here.
 
[c] Historically, of course, it has. In the second-wave feminist consciousness-raising groups of the late 1960s and 1970s, for example, sharing personal experiences of isolation, shame, and subjugation was precisely what allowed women to see that their private misery was structural and political. This collective realisation was a vital catalyst for solidarity and agency. 
      However, my contention with Fisher is that his specific formula for consciousness-raising risks short-circuiting this therapeutic transformation. Rather than moving from shared misery to structural agency, Fisher's explicit demand for populist loathing targeted at parasites paves a direct line toward Nietzschean ressentiment. It risks trapping the participants in a permanent state of reactive anger and class hate, which ultimately toxicifies the self and breeds a new form of psychological misery. 
      Of course, Fisher himself is aware of this danger, which is why he later refers readers to Wendy Brown's essay 'Wounded Attachments' (1993) - an essay in which she diagnoses the psycho-libidinal origins of an identity politics and what those on the right call wokism
      Fisher writes: "Drawing on Nietzsche's account of resentment [...] Brown wrote of a political subjectivity which 'becomes deeply invested in its own impotence, even while it seeks to assuge the pain of its powerlessness through its vengeful moralizing, through its wide distribution of suffering, through its reproach of power as such'" (526-527). And Fisher concludes that today "the mixture of moralizing aggression and investment in impotence has proliferated in a political atmosphere now substantially shaped by the online environment" (527).
      Brown's essay can be found in Political Theory, Vol. 21, No. 3 (August 1993), pp. 390-410. It can be accessed via JSTOR by clicking here.  
 
[d] Fisher says as much: "I don't believe that the old signifier 'communism' can be revived [...] It is now irretrievably tainted by terrible associations, forever tied to the nightmares of the twentieth century" (520). Funnily enough, however, a few months later he names his new politics of desire emerging from the future ... acid communism.  
 
[e] As a Lawrentian, I have my reservations about Spinoza and his rationalism. Nevertheless, his work is useful in exposing the myth of the autonomous individual at the heart of the liberal tradition which drags with it notions of free will and responsibility.   
 
[f] See the post titled 'on Poetry, Chaos and the Great Umbrella' (10 June 2013): click here.  
 
[g] Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1969), pp. 153-154.  
 
[h] Writing in an Italian daily newspaper (Corriere della Sera), Foucault praised the Iranian Revolution as an authentic anti-imperialist movement and a spiritual revolt against Western-imposed modernity, rather than just a religious coup. See my post dated 14 August 2014, in which I discuss this: click here
 
 
This post is a continuation of my previous post on Fisher's political writings in the book k-punk (2018): click here
 
And for earlier thoughts on Fisher's political writings in the above work, please click here.