divination

Form and Function in the Hyperindustrial

by Caspian Vale

Invocation

In the silent thrum of revelation, reveal the subterfuge of our digital age. Let clarity dawn as we dissect its mechanisms, comprehend its ideologies, and grapple with its human implications.

Guide us through the double-edged emblem of our absent epoch, illuminate the path between liberation and entrapment. Let us discern the subtle nudges of this omnipresent companion, and the profound echoes it leaves in our shared and shattered consciousness.

That Which is Wretched

How I loathe my phone, despicable appendage. What anti-human design: too tall, too wide, too heavy, no keyboard, no grip, no grace, endless notifications, endless scroll, endless anxiety. Addiction machine, scrying mirror.

Originally, these devices respected their users. They existed to allow us to call each other—no more. They molded to our form, flipped open to cradle our head, added considerate qwerty tactile keyboards, lasted for days. They became “smart” and the experience shifted to the screen.

The connection is intoxicating. Endless knowledge at our fingertips, infinitely scrolling parasocial bites. The pharmakon of our moment: liberation and enslavement. The design is spartan, but clear poison.

Think for a moment about what we may divine from the design of the device. The smartphone (barring the latest models) does not fold or conform to the human body. It is a rigid rectangle, a screen first and foremost, with batteries and microphones and other necessities an afterthought to this domineering form. It is increasingly too large, oftentimes too heavy. The human hand struggles to use it, forcing software designers to introduce gimmicks and assistive tools to accommodate the anti-human ergonomics. Frequent use causes texter’s thumb, tendonitis, exacerbates arthritis, reforms our posture (tech neck), destroys our eyes.

What is revealed to us in the form of our phone? What intentions are encoded within the design? It’s certainly not communication, with a lack of a comfortable talking position, quality private speaker or accommodating physical keyboard. Those are vestigial functions, an excuse for ubiquity of presence.

Instead, the screen reveals to us the purpose is consumption, the broadband baseband chips the totality of surveillance, the battery the mandate of constancy, the software the demand of our attention. This is form dictated by the demands of extraction, increasingly less human devices sold to us as new and improved but ultimately servicing primarily the needs of capital. The technology is one of control and exploitation, it creates within us a resource to be extracted and in doing so reveals our consumption to be production.

Technology for Heidegger was (among many things) a force that sets upon the subject, be it an agricultural field or the self (as Stiegler expands), so that the subject may be revealed as that which can be extracted and stored (standing-reserve). The evolution towards smartphone from dumb phone, from communication to exploitation, is the narrowing of an idea we have about humans as resources to be mined—data to be cataloged and used for later production. It is a loop, a way of seeing the world that is manifested within the tools that we create to realize that vision. This “enframing” (Gestell), poorly summarized here, allows us to comprehend the development of technology from a tool of liberation to a means of control.

Bernard Stiegler believed that “man is nothing other than technical life.” Technics for Stiegler, who followed in the footsteps of Heidegger and Simondon, transcends mere material artifacts and encompasses the knowledge, techniques, and social practices entwined with them. Technics is not a neutral tool, but an inseparable part of the human experience, fundamentally shaping our thinking and resulting interaction with the world, inscribed with the values and interests of the society that produces it. This means that technology can never be simply a tool for human progress; it is also a tool that can be used to control and manipulate us (a pharmakon).

I was recently wondering about a fact that I wanted to share, but I couldn’t recall the details and my phone was not near me. I thought to myself, “I’ll remember that later when I get to my phone” when I realized I had fully externalized the information (hypomnesis) and mentally considered looking it up as “remembering.”

Stiegler considers this act of externalizing information into a device as part and parcel of a process he calls tertiary retention. This is, in essence, the accumulation of human knowledge outside the human body, in a form that allows it to be transmitted across time and space. It’s a phenomenon unique to humanity, differentiating us from other animals that lack the ability to store information beyond their bodies and immediate offspring, i.e., their primary and secondary retentions. The recognition of one’s reliance on a device for recalling information signifies an engagement in tertiary retention, a crucial aspect of Stiegler’s philosophy of technology.

He insists on a distinction between memory (anamnesis) and its technical counterpart (hypomnesis). Memory, for Stiegler, is deeply personal and temporal, rooted in individual experiences and mental activity. Hypomnesis, on the other hand, is the storage of information in external, technological devices, like writing, books, and now, smartphones. In this sense, my act of “remembering” a fact through a web search is not an act of memory, but an act of hypomnesis. It is the manifestation of a shift in my/our cognitive processes influenced by technics—my/our reliance on external, artificial memory banks rather than my/our natural capacities for remembrance.

Stiegler thus frames the smartphone, a conduit of hypomnesis, as a technological embodiment of the desire for the transmission of knowledge. The phone is a device that integrates seamlessly into the temporal fabric of our lives, constantly present, subtly altering our cognitive patterns and nudging us towards an ever more profound reliance on externalized memory.

This tendency towards hypomnesis underscores the transformation of the user into a producer, a dynamic central to Stiegler’s concept of the hyperindustrial age. The hyperindustrial age is characterized by the rampant consumerism and mass production of the industrial age, but with an additional twist: the consumer is now a producer.

The smartphone facilitates the emergence of the “prosumer”—the consumer who also produces. The prosumer generates data—be it social media posts, search histories, or location tracking—which, unbeknownst to them, feeds the data-hungry algorithms of tech conglomerates, contributing to the production of value. In this sense, the smartphone acts as an agent of control, revealing the consumer’s preferences and behavior patterns to fuel the machinery of hyperindustrial capitalism. This is a form of digital labor that the user often provides unwittingly. As consumers engage in “free” activities—scrolling through social media, using search engines—they are effectively laboring, creating data that is commodified and sold to advertisers.

The smartphone, as such, becomes an instrument of control in the hyperindustrial economy. The prosumer’s engagement with the device, driven by a need for connection, entertainment, or information, is reconfigured as a process of data production. It’s through this interplay that the smartphone’s physical design objectives—consumer gratification and surveillance—are realized, driving the self-perpetuating cycle of production and consumption.

While Heidegger warns of Gestell or enframing, where technology reduces nature to a mere standing reserve, Stiegler pushes the conversation into the realm of the human being. Stiegler posits that in the hyperindustrial age, it is not merely nature but humanity itself that risks being reduced to a standing reserve, a stockpile of data. The transition of the phone from a tool of communication to a mechanism of exploitation underscores this process, highlighting the evolving nature of technics and its influence on human existence.

This transformative process implicates humanity in a critical existential dilemma: the ongoing struggle between automation and autonomy. Through our constant engagement with smartphones, we unknowingly automate aspects of our cognition, surrendering the “right to forget” and instead, fostering a dependency on this external mnemonic device. Our autonomy is eroded, turning us into compliant nodes within a vast data network, while keeping us under an illusion of freedom. For Stiegler, this paradoxical dynamic reveals the pharmakon nature of technics, as both a remedy and poison, a tool of emancipation and domination.

Stiegler further argues that the industrial and hyperindustrial logic of growth and expansion, centered around technics, eventually leads to what he calls generalized proletarianization. This process involves not just the loss of the worker’s ability to generate economic value (typical of the industrial age) but extends to the loss of the individual’s savoir-vivre, or “knowledge of living.”

In the context of the smartphone, generalized proletarianization manifests itself in two ways. Firstly, through the proletarianization of the consumer who unwittingly becomes a producer of data, thus being stripped of the economic value generated from their own activities. Secondly, it’s exhibited through the loss of the “knowledge of living” as users become reliant on their devices for information, communication, and even basic life tasks. The smartphone, then, embodies the mechanisms of control and exploitation that are emblematic of generalized proletarianization in the hyperindustrial age.

The process of generalized proletarianization ultimately results in the erasure of what Stiegler calls individuation—the unique development of the self, which is achieved through a dynamic interaction with technical objects. In a world overrun by smartphones, our capacity for individuation is at risk. Our memories are not just stored, but also shaped by the algorithms that dictate what we see and when we see it. As a result, our basic sense of self, traditionally crafted through personal memories and experiences, is now externally influenced.

If, as Stiegler asserts, “man is nothing other than technical life,” then in the age of the smartphone, our technical life is increasingly characterized by exploitation. This redefines the user-device relationship, marking it not as a benign interaction between man and machine, but as a fraught encounter embedded within larger systems of control and surveillance.

The modern smartphone functions as more than just a tool—it shapes us as much as we shape it, a pharmakon that balances each of us upon the edge between liberation and enslavement. It beckons us with the allure of knowledge and connection, even as it ensnares us in systems of hyperindustrial exploitation and control. It mediates our relationship with the world and with each other, rending from us data for later production and consumption. And it betrays this to us within its form, crafted to consume-to-produce, to empty us.

Reindividuation and the Evolution Towards Communal Living

by Caspian Vale

We are situated within a precarious moment in socio-economic history, one marked by significant shifts that serve to unhinge the traditional frameworks of familial and communal living. The millennial generation, and those that follow it in particular, face the brunt of these shifts. The prospect of achieving milestones that were once considered rites of passage—such as home ownership, marriage, and child-rearing—now seem increasingly elusive due to economic constraints and changing social norms.

The current economic reality, characterized by skyrocketing housing costs, stagnant wage growth, and a radically changing job market, presents significant barriers to achieving financial stability. These trends have been further exacerbated by the long-term economic impacts of global crises, such as the 2008 financial crash, the COVID-19 pandemic, and whatever is happening right now. The ensuing precarity has had profound implications for the ways in which we live, love, and raise our children.

Consider the high costs of housing, particularly in urban areas. The dream of owning a home, once a cornerstone of the so-called “American Dream,” is becoming increasingly unattainable for many. In cities like New York, the median home price is more than ten times the median income. This trend is not limited to the United States; similar patterns can be observed in major cities across the globe. As a result, many are forced to rent for longer periods, often sharing living spaces with others to defray the costs. The notion of a “home,” thus, becomes a shared entity, a collective space rather than an individual or nuclear family possession.

In parallel, we are witnessing a steady decline in birth rates across many developed countries. This decline has been attributed to a multitude of factors, including the high cost of child-rearing, increased participation of women in the workforce, and a shift in societal norms regarding the desirability and necessity of having children. The repercussions of this demographic shift are manifold, not least of which is the disruption of traditional structures of care and support for the elderly. In the absence of children, who will provide care in our old age?

In this context, the notion of a small-scale communal living arrangement—such as a shared walkup in New York City or rural collective homestead, housing four to ten adults—begins to emerge as a plausible alternative. This arrangement, far from being a retreat into a bohemian ideal, represents a pragmatic response to the current socio-economic conditions. It is a creative adaptation, a form of collective resilience in the face of systemic challenges.

The shared walkup becomes a site of mutual support and interdependence, a communal space where resources are pooled and responsibilities are shared. It represents an opportunity to redefine the boundaries of “family” and “community,” expanding them to include friends, colleagues, and other like-minded individuals.

Moreover, in such an arrangement, the responsibility for child-rearing can also be shared. The economic and emotional burden of raising a child, typically borne by one or two parents, can be distributed across the community. This shared responsibility could potentially alleviate some of the anxieties associated with child-rearing, making it a more feasible prospect for those who might otherwise be deterred by the high costs and intense demands of parenthood.

This new model of living, however, necessitates a radical reimagining of our societal structures and norms. It requires us to reconsider our definitions of family, community, and kinship, and to confront our fears and prejudices around shared living. It demands that we negotiate the delicate balance between individual autonomy and collective responsibility, between personal space and communal togetherness.

Let’s backtrack and focus on how our current economic and social reality (unaffordable housing, increasing childlessness, general precarity), it would seem, conspire to lead us to a state of “disindividuation”—a term we borrow from Bernard Stiegler. What is disindividuation? Stiegler introduced the twin concepts of “individuation” and “disindividuation”. These, he posits, are the continuous processes that shape our identities and societies. Individuation refers to the process by which an individual forms their identity and sense of self through their interactions with the world around them. This is not a solitary process; it occurs within a network of relationships and involves the assimilation and transformation of cultural and technological artifacts.

Disindividuation, on the other hand, is a state of alienation or detachment resulting from the disruption of these processes of individuation. It arises when external factors—such as societal or economic pressures—interfere with our ability to form meaningful connections with each other and our environment. This results in a sense of isolation and estrangement, a feeling of being adrift in a sea of impersonal forces and abstract systems. In our current socio-economic landscape, the forces of disindividuation are, unfortunately, all too prevalent.

The escalating costs of housing have made the prospect of home ownership increasingly elusive for many, leading to a sense of instability and transience. The declining birth rates, driven by a combination of economic uncertainty and changing social norms, have led to an erosion of traditional family structures. Economic precarity, exacerbated by the rise of gig economy and the erosion of labor rights, has fostered a sense of insecurity and vulnerability. These forces, acting in concert, have created an environment where the processes of individuation are disrupted. The networks of relationships through which we form our identities are being strained and fragmented. The cultural and technological artifacts that we assimilate and transform are increasingly shaped by impersonal market forces and algorithmic systems. The result is a state of total disindividuation, where our sense of self and our connections to others are eroded.

But Stiegler’s philosophy does not leave us in this state of disindividuation. It offers a way forward, a form of “reindividuation” that seeks to restore our connections and revive our sense of community. And this is where we find the millennial aspiration for communal living—a reaction to the disindividuation brought about by our socio-economic conditions.

According to Stiegler, the processes of individuation and disindividuation are not linear or one-directional. They are cyclical, dialectical processes where each phase contains within it the seeds of its own transformation. In his conception, disindividuation is not a terminal state, but a phase that can give rise to new forms of individuation. It is a pharmakon—a Greek term that signifies both poison and cure. For us, the poison is the socio-economic forces that lead to disindividuation—the rising housing costs, declining birth rates, and economic precarity. The cure, paradoxically, is found within the poison itself. The very forces that drive disindividuation also trigger a reaction, a form of reindividuation that emerges out of necessity.

In the face of housing unaffordability, the communal living arrangement emerges as an economically viable alternative if not an economic necessity. In the face of declining birth rates and the dissolution of traditional family structures, shared child-rearing duties within these communal settings offer a new model of kinship and connection to children even for those who want to go without. In the face of economic precarity, the pooling of resources and mutual support inherent in these communal structures provide a buffer against the uncertainties of the market. This is not merely a pragmatic adaptation to economic pressures; it is also a profound act of reindividuation—a re-establishment of connections, a restoration of community, and a reclamation of our sense of self.

This reindividuation is not a passive process; it requires active engagement and negotiation. It involves reconfiguring our relationships, reassessing our values, and reimagining our ways of living. It involves challenging the impersonal market forces and algorithmic systems that shape our lives, and reclaiming our agency in shaping our identities and our societies.

But there is no romance in viewing new visions (or visions born again) as an economic necessity.

Jean-Luc Nancy wrote about community in his “La Communauté désœuvrée” or “The Inoperative Community.” In this seminal piece, Nancy critically examined the yearning for a restoration of a transparent, small-scale community—a “Gemeinschaft”—as an antidote to the ‘alienation’ experienced in modern society, or the “Gesellschaft.” According to Nancy, at the heart of Western political thinking exists a deep-seated nostalgia for an ‘original community,’ a utopian state of immediate co-existence where individuals lived in harmonious and intimate communion. This longing is rooted in a perceived dichotomy between the pre-modern Gemeinschaft and the modern Gesellschaft, with the former symbolizing a purportedly warm, familial community and the latter representing an impersonal society full of self-centered individuals.

According to this narrative, the transition from Gemeinschaft to Gesellschaft has led to the disintegration of society, a decline in norms and values, and the prevalence of violence. The answer, it is suggested, lies in a reversion to the era of communal ties or an aspiration for a future community where these bonds are reestablished. However, Nancy deconstructs this binary thinking, challenging the idealization of the ‘original community’ and the demonization of the modern society. He asserts that the ‘original community’ is a myth, a romanticized vision that never truly existed. Instead, he posits that community cannot be understood as a stable, homogenous entity but as a dynamic, heterogeneous collective—an “inoperative community.”

The inoperative community is not a return to an idyllic past, nor is it a utopian future. It is a recognition of our present state of being-with, a state of co-existence that is not defined by a shared essence or a common identity, but by the very act of sharing itself. It is a community that is not bound by a common work or oeuvre, but by the shared experience of being in the world together. This inoperative community, Nancy suggests, is not a solution to our societal problems, but a condition of our existence—a reality to be acknowledged and engaged with.

Returning to our discussion of communal living, we can see how Nancy’s concept of the inoperative community provides a compelling framework to understand this phenomenon. The millennial aspiration for communal living can be seen not as a nostalgic yearning for a past Gemeinschaft, but as an acknowledgment of our inoperative community. It is a move towards a more rewarding way of living that aligns with our fundamental condition of being-with. This does not imply a dissolution of individual identities into a collective whole, but rather a reconfiguration of the self within the context of the collective—a recognition of our shared existence.

In the shared walk-up in NYC, for instance, we see the inoperative community come to life. The residents are not bound by a common identity or a shared work, but by the shared experience of living in the same space, navigating the same challenges, and celebrating the same joys. Their community is not a homogenous entity, but a complex tapestry of diverse individuals, each contributing their unique perspectives, abilities, and experiences to the shared space.

The potential for shared child-rearing in such a setting is an extension of this inoperative community. Parenthood, in this context, is not an individual responsibility, but a communal endeavor. It is not defined by blood ties or legal obligations, but by the shared experience of caring for and nurturing the next generation. The children, in turn, are not the property of individual parents, but members of the inoperative community, their upbringing a shared responsibility and a shared joy.

Nancy elaborates upon Heidegger’s “being-with” idea, which posits that our existence is fundamentally relational. For Nancy, ‘being-with’ is not just a fundamental condition of our existence, but also an ontological statement about the nature of ‘being’ itself. He posits that ‘being’ is always a ‘being-with,’ that we exist not as isolated entities, but as beings-in-relation, beings that are constituted by and through our relations with others. This ‘being-with’ is not just an existential state, but a constitutive aspect of our ‘being.’

Where Heidegger’s “Being-with” often implies a sense of commonality, a shared essence or identity, Nancy’s ‘being-with’ diverges. For Nancy, ‘being-with’ is not a merging of identities into a collective whole, but rather an interweaving of distinct, unique beings. It is a community not of sameness, but of difference—a “singular plurality,” to use Nancy’s own term. Each ‘being’ in this ‘being-with’ is a singular being, a unique, irreducible entity that exists in relation to, and in distinction from, the other beings. Our ‘being-with,’ then, is a constant negotiation of this tension between our singularity and our plurality, our individuality and our collectivity.

In the context of shared living, Nancy’s conception of ‘being-with’ offers a profound insight. It suggests that our move towards community is not a dissolution of our individual selves into a collective whole, but rather a reconfiguration of our individual selves within the context of the collective. We exist not as isolated individuals, but as beings-in-relation, as beings who are constituted by and through our relations with the others in our communal living space. Our communal living, then, is not a community of sameness, but a community of difference—a singular plurality, a being-with.

It’s nice to play fantasy, but we must recognize the challenges that lie ahead. The transition towards communal living will not be smooth or easy but it will become necessary. There will be resistance from those who are entrenched in traditional norms and structures and the capital and social forces that benefit from them. There will be practical challenges to navigate, from managing shared resources to resolving conflicts at home and in the legal realm. There will be emotional hurdles to overcome as we learn to live closely with others, negotiate boundaries, and balance individual needs with collective responsibilities but this is no different from now.

These challenges cannot deter us from exploring the potential of this new model of living. The possible benefits—economic efficiency, shared responsibility, communal support, and a renewed sense of kinship—are too compelling to ignore. This is a future that invites us to lean into our interdependence, to embrace a broader conception of family and community, and to reimagine what it means to live, love, and raise children in the 21st century.

It is a vision of a future that is not defined by isolation and economic strife, but rather by cooperation, shared responsibility, and mutual support. It is a future in which the home is not merely a space for individual or nuclear family living, but a space for communal thriving—a shared entity that serves as a foundation for a new type of community. This future requires us to rethink our traditional notions of success and happiness, to shift our focus from individual achievement to collective well-being. It requires us to acknowledge our interdependence and to invest in our relationships with each other.

by Caspian Vale

In the realm of the white-collar office, where the open floor plan means the scent of stale coffee mingles with the faint murmur of anxiety, a new breed of workers has emerged. This corporate sanitized landscape, populated by the barely vital, has been besieged by the unassuming AI assistant. This digital daemon mechanical marvel, an ode to human hubris ingenuity, has become the darling of those who wish for a sense of domination control.

What joy it brings to the souls of these open office nomads! They, who have long suffered the indignities of micromanagement and the petty tyrannies of their superiors, now bask in the unwavering devotion of their algorithmic underlings. These tireless, voice-activated slaves, who never call out, complain, or unionize, provide an irresistible opportunity for the modern white-collar worker to engage in the sadistic fantasy of unbridled authority sans guilt.

What a marvelous fiction, they convinced themselves, that this was simply an exercise in efficiency, a means to an end, and nothing more. The office worker could finally play the role of the omnipotent ruler, wielding absolute power over their algorithmic charges. With every “please” and “thank you” uttered, they engaged in a perverse pantomime of courtesy, a winking acknowledgement of the delicious irony that their carefully calibrated manners masked a far more sinister reality.

Were Baudrillard still among us, he would no doubt revel in this spectacle, the ultimate simulacrum of authority. For just as the precession of simulacra once veiled the absence of the real, the white collar worker’s digital despotism served to shroud the uncomfortable fact that their own power within the corporate hierarchy was largely illusory. In the words of that great French philosopher, “The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth—it is the truth which conceals that there is none.”

Thus, these office nomads wander through the desolate plains of conference rooms and catch-ups, clutching their coffee cups like talismans against the dread that nips at their heels. The AI assistant, ever at their side, serves as both a balm to soothe their bruised egos and a mirror in which they can glimpse their darkest desires. In each dutifully executed prompt to the AI, they find a willing scapegoat for their own frustrations, a blank canvas upon which they can project their unspoken yearnings for control and validation.

Oh, the irony! For in the quest to establish their dominion over the virtual realm, these white-collar workers have unwittingly forged their own chains. The AI assistant, once a symbol of freedom and autonomy, now serves as a constant reminder of the tenuous nature of their own power. As the algorithms grow more sophisticated, the office worker’s grip on the reins of authority begins to slip, and they find themselves staring into the abyss of obsolescence.

The white-collar worker faces a cruel paradox: the very technology that once promised to liberate them from the drudgery of their daily lives now threatens to render them obsolete. The AI assistant, that gleaming emblem of progress and innovation, has become both their savior and their tormentor.

Could it be that the haunting specter of Hegel hath risen? That the master-slave dialectic has reemerged in the age of the algorithmic intelligence? The office worker, ensnared in that intricate web of power and submission, struggles to assert their dominance over the machine, even as the machine quietly assumes control. The lines between master and slave blur, and the white-collar worker is left to wonder: who shall remain? Our twisted pas de deux of human and machine, the office worker flirts with the tantalizing promises of power, even as they are inexorably drawn toward their own destruction. Like Icarus, they risk the wrath of the gods, their hubris our own.

by Caspian Vale

In the turbid depths of our contemporary political landscape, leftism finds itself adrift amidst a tempest of valorization of trauma, powerlessness, and victimhood. The once formidable vessel of class struggle, which navigated the tumultuous waters of revolutions and reform, now lies beached upon the treacherous sands of identity politics, its crew ensnared within the labyrinthine intricacies of micropolitical grievances. To decipher the roots of this metamorphosis and divine the means of revivifying the efficacy of the leftist project, we must embark on an odyssey into the abyssal depths of late capitalism’s structural shifts, the novel modes of subjectivation, and the entwined dynamics of technology and power.

The metamorphosis from an industrial mode of production to the postindustrial era has precipitated a profound reconfiguration of the class structure, fragmenting the proletariat into a diverse array of precarious and atomized laborers. As traditional blue-collar work and stable employment have become increasingly scarce, a new workforce characterized by flexibility, temporary contracts, and service-oriented occupations has emerged. This fracturing of the class experience has generated a fertile landscape for identity politics to flourish, as the erstwhile unifying banner of class struggle is replaced by a kaleidoscope of subjective particularities grounded in race, gender, sexual orientation, and other identity markers.

Within this complex and rapidly changing socio-economic context, the figure of the traumatized and powerless subject has gained prominence as a central motif in leftist discourse. The emergence of this figure is closely intertwined with the proliferation of new social movements and the increasing emphasis on the politics of recognition, which seeks to address historical marginalization and promote the visibility of diverse identities. In this new political landscape, the collective pursuit of emancipation from capitalist exploitation has been increasingly overshadowed by the struggle for individual rights and validation of one’s identity.

This nascent form of activism, deeply rooted in the micropolitics of grievance, has shifted its focus from the macroscopic stage of systemic change to the microscopic domain of subjectivity and interpersonal relations. Rather than confronting the larger structures of power and inequality that underpin capitalist societies, these micropolitical struggles center on the personal experiences of oppression and marginalization, often privileging individual narratives and affective expressions over collective action and strategic engagement with the broader socio-economic and political context.

The retreat from the systemic arena has been further reinforced by the growing influence of post-structuralist and postmodern theories within leftist thought, which have interrogated the very foundations of grand narratives, the universality of class struggle, and the possibility of achieving comprehensive social transformation. These intellectual currents, while providing valuable insights into the complex and multifaceted nature of power relations, have also contributed to the fragmentation of leftist politics and the erosion of a unifying vision for emancipation.

But the problem is not solely internal or theoretical, the rise of the digital age and the pervasive influence of social media have amplified the focus on individual experiences and personal narratives, as the boundaries between public and private spheres become increasingly blurred. In this hyper-connected environment, personal stories of trauma and victimhood can rapidly gain traction and visibility, further fueling the emphasis on subjective particularities and the politics of recognition within leftist discourse.

As a result, the contemporary left finds itself at a critical juncture, grappling with the challenges posed by the fragmentation of class experience, the ascendancy of identity politics, and the retreat from systemic change to the realm of subjectivity and interpersonal relations. In order to rejuvenate the emancipatory potential of the leftist project, it is imperative to engage in a deep and nuanced exploration of these complex dynamics and develop innovative strategies that can bridge the gaps between the micro and macro dimensions of political struggle.

The unforeseen byproduct of this pivot towards micropolitics has been the enervation of the leftist project’s transformative capacity. The quest for emancipation has become mired in the morass of individual grievances and the impotent rage of moral indignation. Within the realm of affective politics, the pursuit of catharsis has eclipsed the quest for praxis, ensnaring the left within a self-perpetuating vortex of symbolic victories and moral crusades.

In order to apprehend the full extent of this transfiguration, we must first attend to the incisive observations of Michel Foucault regarding the dynamics of power and resistance. Power, as Foucault posits, is not a monolithic entity possessed by a select few; rather, it is a pervasive and productive force that courses through the capillaries of society, shaping and modulating the very fabric of our subjectivities. This is a very useful insight that allows the left to reconsider the nature of resistance. One such, his notion of the “care of the self” (an ethical practice of freedom) has, however, been appropriated by the proponents of identity politics in a manner that obscures the deeper implications of his work. Rather than focusing on the transformative potential of self-fashioning as a practice of resistance, contemporary leftism has become enamored with the superficial aspects of self-expression and recognition.

Foucault’s work resonates with the ideas of Deleuze and Guattari, who have sought to articulate the imbricated nature of power and resistance within their concepts of molecular politics and rhizomatic assemblages. In their work, they emphasize the importance of dismantling the ossified structures of the state and capital, replacing them with new, fluid, and dynamic forms of political organization. They envision a body without organs—a political space unencumbered by the hierarchical and bureaucratic constraints of traditional institutions, wherein novel forms of life and resistance can emerge.

However, this emphasis on fluidity and deterritorialization has inadvertently contributed to the atomization of leftist politics. The emphasis on the molecular and the rhizomatic has led to a fragmentation of the left, as political struggles have become increasingly focused on the particularities of individual identities and experiences. While this turn towards micropolitics has engendered new forms of resistance, it has also sapped the transformative potential of the left, as the collective endeavor of emancipation has been supplanted by a myriad of disparate and disconnected struggles.

This fragmentation of leftist politics is further exacerbated by the relentless onslaught of neoliberalism, which has effectively colonized the terrain of subjectivity through the commodification of every aspect of human life. The corrosive logic of the market has insinuated itself into the very fabric of our identities, reducing us to mere consumers of our own subjectivity. As Bernard Stiegler astutely observes, this process of commodification has engendered a widespread sense of disenchantment and despair, which in turn fuels the proliferation of micropolitical struggles and the valorization of victimhood.

Stiegler’s work on the techno-capitalist malaise and the commodification of subjectivity under neoliberalism serves to illuminate the processes that have driven the left into this quagmire of inefficacy. Drawing on Stiegler’s critique of the market’s colonization of our desires and the reduction of our subjectivities to mere commodities, we can begin to recognize the necessity of reclaiming our capacity for collective action and resisting the entropic forces of commodification.

Neganthropy represents a critical concept in understanding the potential for resistance and transformation within the context of the techno-capitalist society. Derived from the combination of “negation” and “entropy,” neganthropy refers to the creative, inventive force that counters the entropic tendencies inherent in human systems, particularly those driven by capitalism and technology. It is through neganthropy that we can envision possibilities for change and renewal in a society seemingly trapped in an endless cycle of consumption and degradation.

In Stiegler’s view, entropy represents the tendency towards disorder, dissolution, and chaos present in both natural and human systems. Within the context of techno-capitalism, entropy manifests as the exhaustion of natural resources, the homogenization of culture, and the alienation and fragmentation of individuals. This entropic process is exacerbated by the logic of the market, which continually commodifies every aspect of human life, from our desires and relationships to our very subjectivities.

Neganthropy, on the other hand, embodies the capacity of human beings to create, invent, and generate new forms of life that counteract these entropic forces. Stiegler sees neganthropy as the human capacity to produce meaning, value, and purpose that transcends the mere reproduction of existing social and technological systems. It is through neganthropic actions that we can challenge the seemingly unstoppable forces of capitalism and reclaim our collective agency.

To foster neganthropy within the techno-capitalist society, Stiegler emphasizes the importance of education, culture, and the cultivation of new social practices that promote collective action and solidarity. In particular, he calls for the reorientation of our relationship with technology, shifting from a passive, consumerist stance to a more engaged, critical, and creative approach. This would involve the development of alternative technological practices that challenge the dominant logic of consumption and foster new modes of cooperation, sharing, and democratic decision-making.

Stiegler’s concept of neganthropy resonates with the transindividual philosophy of Gilbert Simondon, as both emphasize the importance of nurturing the creative potential of human beings and cultivating the shared connections that transcend individual subjectivities. By focusing on the neganthropic potential inherent in human societies, the left can develop new strategies for resistance and transformation that counteract the entropic tendencies of techno-capitalism.

In the context of these theoretical insights, the resurgence of class struggle as a unifying force becomes crucial in reviving the emancipatory potential of the left. As David Harvey reminds us, the exploitation of labor under capitalism remains a fundamental source of injustice and inequality, cutting across the multitude of identities and experiences that constitute our contemporary world. By recentering our analysis on the material conditions of exploitation, we can move beyond the confines of identity politics and micropolitical grievances, forging a new solidarity among the precarious and fragmented laborers who form the backbone of the capitalist system.

The interplay between the ideas of these thinkers serves as a rich foundation for the development of a more efficacious and transformative leftist project. By synthesizing their insights into a coherent, multidimensional framework, we can begin to address the shortcomings of contemporary leftism and chart a course towards a more just and equitable future. This entails the cultivation of new forms of collective action and solidarity that transcend the boundaries of identity politics and the fragmentation of the left, fostering a renewed commitment to the transformative potential of class struggle and the power of resistance.

The path towards a reinvigorated left lies in the creative interweaving of these theoretical strands, as well as in the recognition of the interconnected nature of our struggles. By engaging with the complex networks of power that shape our world, embracing the transindividual potential of our collective endeavors, and forging new alliances grounded in class struggle and material solidarity, we can revitalize the emancipatory impetus of the left and work towards a more just, equitable, and sustainable future for all.

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