Medak
Death and Survival of Dead Labor
2016


# Death and Survival of Dead Labor

by Tomislav Medak — Jan 08, 2016

![](https://schloss-post.com/content/uploads/public-
library_wuerttembergischer-kunstverein-600x450.jpg)

»Public Library. Rethinking the Infrastructures of
Knowledge Production«
Exhibition at Württembergischer Kunstverein Stuttgart, 2014

**The present-day social model of authorship is co-substantive with the
normative regime of copyright. Copyright’s avowed role is to triangulate a
balance between the rights of authors, cultural industries, and the public.
Its legal foundation is in the natural right of the author over the products
of intellectual labor. The recurrent claims of the death of the author,
disputing the primacy of the author over the work, have failed to do much to
displace the dominant understanding of the artwork as an extension of the
personality of the author.**

The structuralist criticism positing an impersonal structuring structure
within which the work operates; the hypertexual criticism dissolving
boundaries of work in the arborescent web of referentiality; or the remix
culture’s hypostatisation of the collective and re-appropriative nature of all
creativity – while changing the meaning we ascribe to the works of culture –
have all failed to leave an impact on how the production of works is
normativized and regulated.

And yet the nexus author–work–copyright has transformed in fundamental ways,
however in ways opposite to what these openings in our social epistemology
have suggested. The figure of the creator, with the attendant apotheosis of
individual creativity and originality, is nowadays more forcefully than ever
before being mobilized and animated by the efforts to expand the exclusive
realm of exploitation of the work under copyright. The forcefulness though
speaks of a deep-seated neurosis, intimating that the purported balance might
not be what it is claimed to be by the copyright advocates. Much is revealed
as we descend into the hidden abode of production.

## _Of Copyright and Authorship_

Copyright has principally an economic function: to unambiguously establish
individualized property in the products of intellectual labor. Once the legal
title is unambiguously assigned, there is a property holder with whose consent
the contracting, commodification, and marketing of the work can proceed. In
that aspect, copyright is not very different from the requirement of formal
freedom that is granted to the laborer to contract out their own labor power
as a commodity to capital, allowing then the capital to maximize the
productivity and appropriate the products of the worker’s labor – which is in
terms of Marx »dead labor.« In fact, the analogy between the contracting of
labor force and the contracting of intellectual work does not stop there. They
also share a common history.

The liberalism of rights and the commodification of labor have emerged from
the context of waning absolutism and incipient capitalism in Europe of the
seventeenth and the eighteenth century. Before the publishers and authors
could have their monopoly over the exploitation of their publications
instituted in the form of copyright, they had to obtain a privilege to print a
book from royal censors. First printing privileges granted to publishers, for
instance in early seventeenth century Great Britain, came with the burden
placed on publishers to facilitate censorship and control over the
dissemination of the growing body of printed matter in the aftermath of the
invention of movable type printing.

The evolution of regulatory mechanisms of contemporary copyright from the
context of absolutism and early capitalism receives its full relief if one
considers how peer review emerged as a self-censoring mechanism within the
Royal Academy and the Académie des sciences. [1] The internal peer review
process helped the academies maintain the privilege to print the works of
their members, which was given to them only under the condition that the works
they publish limit themselves to matters of science and make no political
statements that could otherwise sour the benevolence of the monarch. Once they
expanded to print in their almanacs, journals, and books the works of authors
outside of the academy ranks, they both expanded their scientific authority
and their regulating function to the entire nascent field of modern science.

The transition from the privilege tied to the publisher to the privilege tied
to the natural person of the author would unfold only later. In Great Britain
this occurred as the guild of printers, Stationers’ Company, failed to secure
the extension of its printing privilege and thus, in order to continue with
the business of printing books, decided to advocate a copyright for the
authors instead, which resulted in the passing of the Copyright Act of 1709,
also known as the Statute of Anne. Thus the author became the central figure
in the regulation of literary and scientific production. Not only did the
author now receive the exclusive rights to the work, the author was also made
– as Foucault has famously analyzed – the identifiable subject of scrutiny,
censorship, and political sanction by the absolutist state or the church.

And yet, although the romantic author now took center stage, copyright
regulation, the economic compensation for the work, would long remain no more
than an honorary one. Until well into the eighteenth century literary writing
and creativity in general were regarded as resulting from the divine
inspiration and not from the individual genius of the author. Money earned in
the growing business with books mostly stayed in the hands of the publishers,
while the author received an honorarium, a flat sum that served as a »token of
esteem.« [2] It was only with the increasingly vocal demand by the authors to
secure material and political independence from the patronage and authority
that they started to make claims for rightful remuneration.

## _Of Compensation and Exploitation
_

The moment of full-blown affirmation of romantic author-function marks a
historic moment of redistribution and establishment of compromise between the
right of publishers to economic exploitation of the works and the right of
authors to rightful compensation for their works. Economically this was made
possible by the expanding market for printed books in the eighteenth and the
nineteenth century, while politically this was catalyzed by the growing desire
for autonomy of scientific and literary production from the system of feudal
patronage and censorship in gradually liberalizing modern capitalist
societies. The autonomy of production was substantially coupled to the
production for the market. However, the irenic balance could not last
unobstructed. Once the production of culture and science was subsumed under
the exigencies of the market, it had to follow the laws of commodification and
competition that no commodity production can escape.

With the development of big corporation and monopoly capitalism, [3] the
purported balance between the author and the publisher, the innovator or
scientist and the company, the labor and the capital, the public circulation
and the pressures of monetization has become unhinged. While the legislative
expansions of protections, court decisions, and multilateral treaties are
legitimated on basis of the rights of creators, they have become the economic
basis for the monopolies dominating the commanding heights of the global
economy to protect their dominant position in the world market. The levels of
concentration in the industries with large portfolios of various forms of
intellectual property rights is staggering. The film industry is a US$88
billion industry dominated by six major studios. The recorded music industry
is an almost US$20 billion industry dominated by three major labels. The
publishing industry is a US$120 billion industry, where the leading ten earn
in revenues more than the next 40 largest publishing groups. Among patent
holding industries, the situation is a little more diversified, but big patent
portfolios in general dictate the dynamics of market power.

Academic publishing in particular draws a stark relief of the state of play.
It is a US$10 billion industry dominated by five publishers, financed up to
75% from the subscriptions of libraries. It is notorious for achieving extreme
year on year profit margins – in the case of Reed Elsevier regularly well over
20%, with Taylor & Francis, Springer, and Wiley-Blackwell only just lagging
behind. [4] Given that the work of contributing authors is not paid, but
financed by their institutions (provided they are employed at an institution)
and that the publications nowadays come mostly in the form of electronic
articles licensed under subscription for temporary use to libraries and no
longer sold as printed copies, the public interest could be served at a much
lower cost by leaving commercial closed-access publishers out of the equation.
However, given the entrenched position of these publishers and their control
over the moral economy of reputation in academia, the public disservice that
they do cannot be addressed within the historic ambit of copyright. It
requires politicization.

## _Of Law and Politics_

When we look back on the history of copyright, before there was legality there
was legitimacy. In the context of an almost completely naturalized and
harmonized global regulation of copyright the political question of legitimacy
seems to be no longer on the table. An illegal copy is an object of exchange
that unsettles the existing economies of cultural production. And yet,
copyright nowadays marks a production model that serves the power of
appropriation from the author and market power of the publishers much more
than the labor of cultural producers. Hence the illegal copy is again an
object begging the question as to what do we do at a rare juncture when a
historic opening presents itself to reorganize how a good, such as knowledge
and culture, is produced and distributed in a society. We are at such a
juncture, a juncture where the regime regulating legality and illegality might
be opened to the questioning of its legitimacy or illegitimacy.

1. Jump Up For a more detailed account of this development, as well as for the history of printing privilege in Great Britain, see Mario Biagioli: »From Book Censorship to Academic Peer Review,« in: _Emergences:_ _Journal for the Study of Media & Composite Cultures _12, no. 1 [2002], pp. 11–45.
2. Jump Up The transition of authorship from honorific to professional is traced back in Martha Woodmansee: _The Author, Art, and the Market: Rereading the History of Aesthetics_. New York 1996.
3. Jump Up When referencing monopoly markets, we do not imply purely monopolistic markets, where one company is the only enterprise selling a product, but rather markets where a small number of companies hold most of the market. In monopolistic competition, oligopolies profit from not competing on prices. Rather »all the main players are large enough to survive a price war, and all it would do is shrink the size of the industry revenue pie that the firms are fighting over. Indeed, the price in an oligopolistic industry will tend to gravitate toward what it would be in a pure monopoly, so the contenders are fighting for slices of the largest possible revenue pie.« Robert W. McChesney: _Digital Disconnect: How Capitalism Is Turning the Internet Against Democracy_. New York 2013, pp. 37f. The immediate effect of monopolistic competition in culture is that the consumption is shaped to conform to the needs of the large enterprise, i.e. to accommodate the economies of scale, narrowing the range of styles, expressions, and artists published and promoted in the public.
4. Jump Up Vincent Larivière, Stefanie Haustein, and Philippe Mongeon: »The Oligopoly of Academic Publishers in the Digital Era,« in: _PLoS ONE_ 10, no. 6 [June 2015]: e0127502, doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0127502.

![](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7)

[Tomislav Medak](https://schloss-post.com/person/tomislav-medak/),
Zagreb/Croatia — Performing Arts, Solitude fellow 2013–2015

Tomislav Medak is a philosopher with interests in contemporary political
philosophy, media theory and aesthetics. He is coordinating the theory program
and publishing activities of the Multimedia Institute/MAMA (Zagreb/Croatia),
and works in parallel with the Zagreb-based theatre collective BADco.


Dockray
The Scan and the Export
2010


the image, corrects the contrast, crops out the use­
less bits, sharpens the text, and occasionally even
attempts to read it. All of this computation wants
to repress any traces of reading and scanning, with
the obvious goal of returning to the pure book, or
an even more Platonic form.
That purified, originary version of the text
might be the e-book. Publishers are occasionally
skipping the act of printing altogether and selling
the files themselves, such that the words reserved
for “
well-scanned”books ultimately describe ebooks: clean, searchable, small (i.e., file size). Al­
though it is perfectly understandable for a reader
to prefer aligned text without smudges or other
markings where “
paper”is nothing but a pure,
bright white, this movement towards the clean has
its consequences. Distinguished as a form by the
fact that it is produced, distributed, and consumed
digitally, the e-book never leaves the factory.
A minimal gap is, however, created between
the file that the producer uses and the one that
the consumer uses— imagine the cultural chaos
if the typical way of distributing books were as
Word documents!— through the process of export­
ing. Whereas scanning is a complex process and
material transformation (which includes exporting
at the very end), exporting is merely converting
formats. But however minor an act, this conver­
sion is what puts a halt to the writing and turns
the file into a product for reading. It is also at this
stage that forms of “
digital rights management”ate
applied in order to restrict copying and printing of
the file.
Sharing and copying texts is as old as books
themselves— actually, one could argue that this is
almost a definition of the book— but computers
and the Internet have only accelerated this
activ­ity. From transcription to tracing to photocopying
to scanning, the labour and material costs involved
in producing a copy has fallen to nothing in our
present digital file situation. Once the scan has
generated a digitized version of some kind, say a
PDF, it easily replicates and circulates. This is not
aberrant behaviour, either, but normative comput­
er use: copy and paste are two of the first choices
in any contextual menu. Personal file storage has
slowly been migrating onto computer networks,
particularly with the growth of mobile devices, so

Sean Dockray

The Scan and the Export
The scan is an ambivalent image. It oscillates
back and forth: between a physical page and a
digital file, between one reader and another, be­
tween an economy of objects and an economy of
data. Scans are failures in terms of quality, neither
as “
readable”as the original book nor the inevi­
table ebook, always containing too much visual
information or too little.
Technically speaking, it is by scanning that
one can make a digital representation of a physical
object, such as a book. When a representation of
that representation (the image) appears on a digital
display device, it hovers like a ghost, one world
haunting another. But it is not simply the object
asserting itself in the milieu of light, informa­
tion, and electricity. Much more is encoded in
the image: indexes of past readings and the act of
scanning itself.
An incomplete inventory of modifications to
the book through reading and other typical events
in the life of the thing: folded pages, underlines,
marginal notes, erasures, personal symbolic sys­
tems, coffee spills, signatures, stamps, tears, etc.
Intimacy between reader and text marking the
pages, suggesting some distant future palimpsest in
which the original text has finally given way to a
mass of negligible marks.
Whereas the effects of reading are cumulative,
the scan is a singular event. Pages are spread and
pressed flat against a sheet of glass. The binding
stretches, occasionally to the point of breaking.
A camera driven by a geared down motor slides
slowly down the surface of the page. Slight move­
ment by the person scanning (who is also a scan­
ner; this is a man-machine performance) before
the scan is complete produces a slight motion blur,
the type goes askew, maybe a finger enters the
frame of the image. The glass is rarely covered in
its entirety by the book and these windows into
the actual room where the scanning is done are
ultimately rendered as solid, censored black. After
the physical scanning process comes post-produc­
tion. Software— automated or not— straightens

99

one's files are not always located on one's
equip­ment. The act of storing and retrieving shuffles
data across machines and state lines.
A public space is produced when something
is shared— which is to say, made public — but this
space is not the same everywhere or in all
circum­stances. When music is played for a room full of
people, or rather when all those people are simply
sharing the room, something is being made public.
Capitalism itself is a massive mechanism for
making things public, for appropriating materials,
people, and knowledge and subjecting them to its
logic. On the other hand, a circulating library, or a
library with a reading room, creates a public space
around the availability of books and other forms of
material knowledge. And even books being sold
through shops create a particular kind of public,
which is quite different from the public that is
formed by bootlegging those same books.
ft would appear that publicness is not simply a
question of state control or the absence of money.
Those categorical definitions offer very little to
help think about digital files and their native
tendency to replicate and travel across networks.
What kinds of public spaces are these, coming into
the foreground by an incessant circulation of data?
Tw o paradigmatic forms of publicness can be
described through the lens of the scan and the
export, two methods for producing a digital text.
Although neither method necessarily results in a
file that must be distributed, such files typically
are. In the case of the export, the system of
distribution tends to be through official, secure
digital repositories; limited previews provide a
small window into the content, which is ultimately
accessible only through the interface of the
shopping cart. On the other hand, the scan is
created by and moves between individuals, often
via improvised and itinerant distribution systems.
The scan travels from person to person, like a
virus. As long as it passes between people, that
common space between them stays alive. That
space might be contagious; it might break out into
something quite persuasive, an intimate publicness
becoming more common.
The scan is an image of a thing and is therefore
different from the thing (it is digital, not physical,
and it includes indexes of reading and scanning),

whereas a copy of the export is essentially identi­cal
to the export. Here is one reason there will ex­ist
many variations of a scan for a particular text,
while there will be one approved version (always a
clean one) of the export. A person may hold in his
or her possession a scan of a book but, no matter
what publishers may claim, the scan will never be
the book. Even if one was to inspect two files and
find them to be identical in every observable and
measurable quality, it may be revealed that these
are in fact different after all: one is a legitimate
copy and the other is not. Legitimacy in this case
has nothing whatsoever to do with internal traits,
such as fidelity to the original, but with external
ones, namely, records of economic transactions in
customer databases.
In practical terms, this means that a digital
book must be purchased by every single reader.
Unlike the book, which is commonly purchased,
read, then handed it off to a friend (who then
shares it with another friend and so on until it
comes to rest on someone’
s bookshelf) the digital
book is not transferable, by design and by law.
If ownership is fundamentally the capacity to give
something away, these books are never truly ours.
The intimate, transient publics that emerge out
of passing a book around are here eclipsed by a
singular, more inclusive public in which everyone
relates to his or her individual (identical) file.
Recently, with the popularization of digital
book readers (a device for another man-machine
pairing), the picture of this kind of publicness has
come into greater definition. Although a group of
people might all possess the same file, they will be
viewing that file through their particular readers,
which means surprisingly that they might all be
seeing something different. With variations built
into the device (in resolution, size, colour, display
technology) or afforded to the user (perhaps to
change font size or other flexible design ele­
ments), familiar forms of orientation within the
writing disappear as it loses the historical struc­
ture of the book and becomes pure, continuous
text. For example, page numbers give way to the
more abstract concept of a "location" when the
file is derived from the export as opposed to the
scan, from the text data as opposed to the
physi­cal object. The act of reading in a group is also

100

different ways. An analogy: they are not prints
from the same negative, but entirely different
photographs of the same subject. Our scans are
variations, perhaps competing (if we scanned the
same pages from the same edition), but, more
likely, functioning in parallel.
Gompletists prefer the export, which has a
number of advantages from their perspective:
the whole book is usually kept intact as one unit,
the file; file sizes are smaller because the files are
based more on the text than an image; the file is
found by searching (the Internet) as opposed to
searching through stacks, bookstores, and attics; it
is at least theoretically possible to have every file.
Each file is complete and the same everywhere,
such that there should be no need for variations.
At present, there are important examples of where
variations do occur, notably efforts to improve
metadata, transcode out of proprietary formats,
and to strip DRM restrictions. One imagines an
imminent future where variations proliferate based
on an additive reading— a reader makes highlights,
notations, and marginal arguments and then
re­distributes the file such that someone's
"reading" of a particular text would generate its own public,
the logic of the scan infiltrating the export.

different — "Turn to page 24" is followed by the
sound of a race of collective page flipping, while
"Go to location 2136" leads to finger taps and
caresses on plastic. Factions based on who has the
same edition of a book are now replaced by those
with people who have the same reading device.
If historical structures within the book are
made abstract then so are those organizing
struc­tures outside of the book. In other words, it's not
simply that the book has become the digital book
reader, but that the reader now contains the
li­brary itself! Public libraries are on the brink of be­
ing outmoded; books are either not being acquired
or they are moving into deep storage; and physical
spaces are being reclaimed as cafes, restaurants,
auditoriums, and gift shops. Even the concept
of donation is thrown into question: when most
public libraries were being initiated a century ago,
it was often women's clubs that donated their
col­lections to establish the institution; it is difficult to
imagine a corresponding form of cultural sharing
of texts within the legal framework of the export.
Instead, publishers might enter into a contract
directly with the government to allow access to
files from computers within the premises of the
library building. This fate seems counter-intuitive,
considering the potential for distribution latent
in the underlying technology, but even more so
when compared to the "traveling libraries" at the
turn of the twentieth century, which were literally
small boxes that brought books to places without
libraries (most often, rural communities).
Many scans, in fact, are made from library
books, which are identified through a stamp or a
sticker somewhere. (It is not difficult to see how
the scan is closely related to the photocopy, such
that they are now mutually evolving technolo­
gies.) Although it circulates digitally, like the
export, the scan is rooted in the object and is
never complete. In a basic sense, scanning is slow
and time-consuming (photocopies were slow and
expensive), and it requires that choices are made
about what to focus on. A scan of an entire book
is rare— really a labour of love and endurance;
instead, scanners excerpt from books, pulling out
the most interesting, compelling, difficult-to-find,
or useful bits. They skip pages. The scan is partial,
subjective. You and I will scan the same book in

About the Author

Sean Dockray is a Los Angeles-based artist. He is a
co­-director of Telic Arts Exchange and has initiated several
collaborative projects including AAAARG.ORG and The
Public School. He recently co-organized There is
noth­ing less passive than the act of fleeing, a 13-day seminar at
various sites in Berlin organized through The Public School
that discussed the promises, pitfalls, and possibilities for
extra-institutionality.

101

t often the starting-point is an idea composed of
a group of centrally aroused sensations due to simultaneous
excitation of a group
This would probably
in every case he in large part the result of association by
contiguity in terms of the older classification, although
there might be some part played by the immediate
excita­tion of the separatefP pby an external stimulus. Starting
from this given mass of central elements, all change comes
from the fact that some of the elements disappear and are
replaced by others through a second series of associations
by contiguity. The parts of the original idea which remain
serve as the excitants for the new elements which arise.
The nature of the process is exactly like that by which
the elements of the first idea were excited, and no new
process comes in. These successive associations are thus
really in their mechanism but a series of simultaneous
associations in which the elements that make up the different
ideas are constantly changing, but with some elements
that persist from idea to idea. There is thus a constant
flux of the ideas, but there is always a part of each idea
that persists over into the next and serves to start the
mechanism of revival There is never an entire stoppage
in the course of the ideas, never an absolute break in the
series, but the second idea is joined to the one that precedes
by an identical element in each.

124

A short time later, this control of urban noise had been implemented almost
everywhere, or at least in the politically best-controlled cities, where repetition
is most advanced.
We see noise reappear, however, in exemplary fashion at certain ritualized
moments: in these instances, the horn emerges as a derivative form of violence
masked by festival. All we have to do is observe how noise proliferates in echo
at such times to get a hint of what the epidemic proliferation of the essential
vio­lence can be like. The noise of car horns on New Year's Eve is, to my mind,
for the drivers an unconscious substitute for Carnival, itself a substitute for the
Dionysian festival preceding the sacrifice. A rare moment, when the hierarchies
are masked behind the windshields and a harmless civil war temporarily breaks
out throughout the city.
Temporarily. For silence and the centralized monopoly on the emission,
audition and surveillance of noise are afterward reimposed. This is an essential
control, because if effective it represses the emergence of a new order and a
challenge to repetition.

103

Thus, with the ball, we are all possible victims; we all expose our­
selves to this danger and we escape back and forth of "I."
The "I" in the game is a token exchanged. And
this passing, this network of passes, these vicariances of subjects weave
the collection. I am I now, a subject, that is to say, exposed to being
thrown down, exposed to falling, to being placed beneath the compact
mass of the others; then you take the relay, you are substituted for "I"
and become it; later on, it is he who gives it to you, his work done, his
danger finished, his part of the collective constructed. The "we" is made
by the bursts and occultations of the "I." The "we" is made by passing
the "I." By exchanging the "I." And by substitution and vicariance of
the "I."
That immediately appears easy to think about. Everyone carries
his stone, and the wall is built. Everyone carries his "I," and the "we" is
built. This addition is idiotic and resembles a political speech. No.

104

But then let them say it clearly:

The practice of happiness is subversive when it becom es collective.
Our will tor happiness and liberation is their terror, and they react by terrorizing
us with prison, when the repression of work, of the patriarchal family, and of sex­
ism is not enough.

But then let them say it clearly:

To conspire means to breathe together.

And that is what we are accused of, they want to prevent us from breathing
because we have refused to breathe In Isolation, in their asphyxiating places of
work, in their individuating familial relationships, in their atomizing houses.

There is a crime I confess I have committed:

It is the attack against the separation of life and desire, against sexism in Interindividual relationships, against the reduction of life to the payment of a salary.

105

Counterpublics

The stronger modification of ... analysis — one in which
he has shown little interest, though it is clearly of major
signifi­cance in the critical analysis of gender and sexuality — is that some
publics are defined by their tension with a larger public. Their
par­ticipants are marked off from persons or citizens in general.
Dis­cussion within such a public is understood to contravene the rules
obtaining in the world at large, being structured by alternative dis­
positions or protocols, making different assumptions about what
can be said or what goes without saying. This kind of public is, in
effect, a counterpublic: it maintains at some level, conscious or
not, an awareness of its subordinate status. The sexual cultures of
gay men or of lesbians would be one kind of example, but so would
camp discourse or the media of women's culture. A counterpublic
in this sense is usually related to a subculture, but there are
impor­tant differences between these concepts. A counterpublic, against
the background of the public sphere, enables a horizon of opinion
and exchange] its exchanges remain distinct from authority and
can have a critical relation to power; its extent is in principle
indef­inite, because it is not based on a precise demography but
medi­ated by print, theater, diffuse networks of talk, commerce, and ...

106

The term slang, which is less broad than language variety is described
by ... as a label that is frequently used to denote
certain informal or faddish usages of nearly anyone in the speech commu­nity.
However, slang, while subject to rapid change, is widespread and
familiar to a large number of speakers, unlike Polari. The terms jargon
and argot perhaps signify more what Polari stands for. as they are asso­
ciated with group membership and are used to serve as affirmation or
solidarity with other members. Both terms refer to "obscure or secret
language’or language of a particular occupational group ...
While jargon tends to refer to an occupational sociolect,
or a vocabulary particular to a field, argot is more concerned with language
varieties where speakers wish to conceal either themselves or aspects of
their communication from non-members. Although argot is perhaps the
most useful term considered so far in relation to Polari. there exists a
more developed theory that concentrates on stigmatised groups, and could
have been created with Polari specifically in mind: anti-language.
For ..., anti-language was to anti-society what language
was to society. An anti-society is a counter-culture, a society within a
society, a conscious alternative to society, existing by resisting either
pas-sively or by more hostile, destructive means. Anti-languages are
gen­erated by anti-societies and in their simplest forms arc partially relexicalised
languages, consisting of the same grammar but a different vocabulary
... in areas central to the activities ot subcultures.
Therefore a subculture based around illegal drug use would have words tor
drugs, the psychological effects of drugs, the police, money and so on. In
anti-languages the social values of words and phrases tend to be more
emphasised than in mainstream languages.

... found that 41 per cent of the criminals he
interviewed cave "the need for secrecy" as an important reason lor using
an anti-language, while 38 per cent listed 'verbal art'. However ...
in his account of the anti-language or grypserka of Polish
pris­oners. describes how, for the prisoners, their identity was threatened and
the creation of an anti-society provided a means by wtnclt an alternative
social structure (or reality) could be constructed, becoming the source of
a second identity tor the prisoners.

107

Streetwalker theorists cul­tivate the ability to sustain and create hangouts by hanging
out. Hangouts are highly fluid, worldly, nonsanctioned,
communicative, occupations of space, contestatory retreats for the
passing on of knowledge, for the tactical-strategic fashioning
of multivocal sense, of enigm atic vocabularies and gestures,
for the development of keen commentaries on structural
pres­sures and gaps, spaces of complex and open-ended recognition.
Hangouts are spaces that cannot be kept captive by the
private / public split. They are worldly, contestatory concrete
spaces within geographies sieged by and in defiance of logics
and structures of domination.20 The streetwalker theorist
walks in illegitim ate refusal to legitimate oppressive
arrange­ments and logics.

Common

108

As we apprehend it, the process of instituting com ­
munism can only take the form of a collection of
acts of communisation, of making common such-and-such
space, such-and-such machine, such-and-such knowledge.
That is to say, the elaboration
of the mode of sharing that attaches to them.
In­surrection itself is just an accelerator, a decisive
moment in the process.

... is a collection of places, infrastructures,
communised means; and the dreams, bodies,
mur­murs, thoughts, desires that circulate among those
places, the use of those means, the sharing of those
infrastructures.
The notion of ... responds to the necessity of
a minimal formalisation, which makes us accessible
as well as allows us to remain invisible. It belongs
to the communist way that we explain to ourselves
and formulate the basis of our sharing. So that the
most recent arrival is, at the very least, the equal of
the elder.

Whatever singularity, which wants to appropriate be longing itself,
its own being-in-language, and thus rejects all identity and every
condition of belonging, is the principal enemy of the State. Wherever these
singularities peacefully demonstrate their being in common there will be a
Tiananmen, and, sooner or later, the tanks will appear.

110


 

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