Journal articles on the topic 'Lacanian Discourse Analysi'

This paper examines aspects of Lacanian critical social theory in terms of its appropriateness for understanding urban planning. We tell a story from planning practice in Western Australia which we then analyse by introducing Lacan's notion of the master signifier and the sets of knowledges, values and practices which master signifiers embody. We then apply the Lacanian concepts of desire and jouissance, followed by an exploration of the Lacanian four discourses and the speech acts, or language games, of the planner and the ‘planned’. We conclude by estimating the potential value of Lacanian analysis for understanding planning praxis.

AbstractWhile the recent interest in affects and emotions in world politics is encouraging, the crucial relationships between affect, emotion, and discourse have remained largely under-examined. This article offers a framework for understanding the relations between affect and discourse by drawing upon the theories of Jacques Lacan. Lacan conceptualises affect as an experience which lies beyond the realm of discourse, yet nevertheless has an effect upon discourse. Emotion results when affects are articulated within discourse as recognisable signifiers. In addition, Lacanian theory conceptualises affect and discourse as overlapping yet not as coextensive, allowing analyses to theoretically distinguish between discourses which become sites of affective investment for audiences and those that do not. Thus, analysing the mutual infusion of affect and discourse can shed light on why some discourses are more politically efficacious than others. The empirical import of these ideas is offered in an analysis of American affective reactions to 11 September 2001.

In this article, I dissect an excerpt from George W. Bush’s address to a joint session of Congress and the American people wherein the former President of the United States (POTUS) uttered the (catch)phrase the ‘war on terror’ (WOT). To accomplish this dissection, I apply Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) together with Lacanian psychoanalysis among other critical tools. My aim here is to deconstruct/recode the WOT discourse in the hope of opening up possibilities for alternative, and more constructive, counter-discourses on the social problem of ‘terrorism’ that afford multiple subject positions beyond the (counter)terrorism binary. As an Orientalist ideology, the WOT indexes the larger archive of American exceptionalism and can be traced back to the rise of the neo-conservative movement in the 1980s. This analysis is particularly relevant in the context of the current political climate in the United States, where the WOT rhetoric continues to normalise the logic of Islamophobia.

This paper examines the establishment of the analysand's demand in the analytic experience, taking into account his position of desiring subject in the wake of castration. It aims to look into the place of demand in the transference by considering aspects that are relevant to the clinical work, such as the maneuvers of the analyst in the development of one's analysis. On that basis, the author investigates the trajectory of Lacan's elaborations on the concept of transference and its applicability in the psychoanalytic clinic.KEYWORDS: Demand. Desiring Subject. Transference. Lacan. Psychoanalytic Clinic.

This article expounds critical reflections and analysis on the discourse regarding the conflict in Palestine. The case is posited through the lens of a certain ethical position, namely the ethics of the real and the framework that it supports, namely Lacanian Psychoanalysis. Reflecting on the impasse that the discourse on the conflict in Palestine has been confronted with, this article argues that political analysis may take insight from psychoanalysis to make the course of analysis directed toward the deconstruction of the obsessive neuroticism at the core of this impasse. In doing so, the political analysis should take a retroductive course, moving back and forth between the ontological and ontical planes of the reality analysed. This enables political analysis to account more systematically the factors of inevitable lack in the structure and split on the subject and the corresponding affective dimension, which are central in the political constitution of social formation and identity. Through the analytical lens and approach from psychoanalysis, this article investigates and demonstrates how most of the discourses on the conflict in Palestine have strong propensity to avoid the conflict, which on its turn counterintuitively serve to prolong or fan further conflict, as they focus on the neatness and seamlessness of the reality constituted through their own discourses rather than grappling with the conflict.

This article uses a Lacanian framework both to map types of posthuman discourse that shape the debates around science, technology and the fate of the human, and to advocate a more psychoanalytic framing of these debates. It identifies three dominant posthumanisms: ‘doomsday’, ‘celebratory’ and ‘critical’. The first adopts an apocalyptic tone in the defence of a supposedly natural human essence; the second unthinkingly embraces the promise of new technologies for augmenting human potential; the third draws on the critique of humanism to balance the first two tendencies. The article then proposes a ‘fractal’ reading of both Freud and Lacan which updates psychoanalysis for the online world today. Finally, the article aligns each of the types of posthumanism with one of Lacan's ‘four discourses’: ‘doomsday’ posthumanism with the discourse of the hysteric, ‘celebratory’ posthumanism with that of the master, and ‘critical’ posthumanism with that of the analyst, thereby putting psychoanalysis at the centre of the posthuman rather than its margins.

The author examines some postulates about proverbs based on the theoretical framework of French Discourse Analysis and Lacanian psychoanalysis. For this purpose, the author discusses the use of proverbs based from the viewpoint of the listener.

ABSTRACT: After the Occultation, the moment when the shiites’ messiah disappeared, Shiism broke into two tendencies: the traditional-quietist and the rationalist-political. These two tendencies coexisted for centuries; only quite recently has their balance tilted towards the rationalist-political side, which brought about (principally) the Khomeini revolution in Iran. This article seeks to explore the mode of the social ties in Shia Islam from a psychoanalytic perspective, in terms of its original mystical practices as well as of the political and religious consequences of the decline of traditionalist discourse and the political emergence of “jurist-theologian” with its corollary, the Adversary.

Building on an analysis of interviews with 61 social entrepreneurs, the study offers a more fine-grained exploration of the identity work of social entrepreneurs from a psychoanalytic, particularly Lacanian, perspective. Specifically, it suggests that what defines social entrepreneurial identity work is the blurring of beatific and horrific aspects of fantasies and a desire for struggle and lack. This in turn creates an emancipatory space in which discursive movement enables alternative forms of market enjoyment and ethical agency. The latter unsettles macro-discourses of capitalism by demanding and amplifying their lack. The study contributes new avenues for exploring Lacanian concepts such as the traversal of fantasy as a product of discursive movement particularly relevant for transformative readings of identity narratives.

The study introduces a framework by which insights from Lacanian psychoanalysis can be employed to offer a more nuanced understanding of how retirement is currently being reinvented. Building on an analysis of 49 stories in which early-career employees describe their retirement aspirations, the study explores the complexities of how individuals draw on retirement discourse to articulate who they are and what they want. The analysis suggests that the narrative construction of retirement is not only a space for becoming further attached to fantasies that align identity with existing power structures but also a space in which to work through such attachments and open up identity in transformative ways. The study contributes novel perspectives on the effects of the contradictions in current retirement discourse at the interstice of identity, discourse and power, offering new avenues for research on retirement and identity.

This paper considers the emergence of Mount Athos’ monk elders in Greek society in recent decades until the current economic crisis. Their social influence has grown over these decades, especially after some of them were recognized as charismatic and gerontismos (elderism) became one of the most important forms of religious discourse in contemporary Greek society. These elders were presented as a kind of cultural resistance in the service of an alternative economy of desire. This analysis suggests that they have ultimately worked in the service of a series of individual or collective fantasies of power and pleasure within Greek society. The theoretical tools informing this analysis are the product of a dialog between symbolic anthropology and Lacanian theory.

The contemporary government of Turkey has been seeing increasing support for several years, and obstacles it has faced have not reduced the number of its supporters by much. This paper emphasizes that the inquiries which interpret this political conjuncture should consider the Turkish ideological atmosphere and discursive arrangements employed by politicians to manufacture consent. The author aims to discover the relation between the success of the ruling party and its discursive strategies while examining its symbolic structure and imaginary constructions using Lacanian psychoanalysis by employing interpretative discourse analysis. The author intends to highlight the nodal points of the hegemonic discourse, seeks to uncover rhetorical patterns, and attempts to explore the applicability of psychoanalysis on political and sociological issues.

From the 1980s onwards, discourses of risk have continued to grow, almost in ubiquity. Ideas and practices of risk and risk aversion have extended to UK mental health care where services are expected to assess and manage risks, and high-quality clinical assessment has been revised to incorporate risk assessment. This article problematises practices of risk assessment in mental health provision, focussing on the base-rate problem. It presents an analysis of audio recordings of risk assessments completed within a primary care mental health service. The analysis is informed by a critical logics approach which, using ideas from discourse theory as well as Lacanian psychoanalysis, involves developing a set of logics to describe, analyse and explain social phenomena. We characterise the assessments as functioning according to social logics of well-oiled administration and preservation, whereby bureaucratic processes are prioritised, contingency ironed out or ignored, and a need to manage potential risks to the service are the dominant operational frames. These logics are considered in terms of their beatific and horrific fantasmatic dimensions, whereby risk assessment is enacted as infallible (beatific) until clients become threats (horrific), creating a range of potential false negatives, false positives and so forth. These processes function to obscure or background problems with risk assessment, by generating practices that favour and offer protection to assessors, at the expense of those being assessed, thus presenting a challenge to the stated aim of risk assessment practice.

Sponsoring has been positioned as a powerful intervention for the career advancement of women, with career resilience as a key benefit of sponsorship. In this paper we utilise a psychoanalytic framework namely Lacanian discourse theory, to argue that this may not be the case, and that sponsoring may actually create a diagonally opposite result by creating (ir)resilience in individuals being sponsored. Our theoretical critique is supported by empirical data from qualitative interviews with participants across Europe, as well as an examination of extracts from accounts of sponsoring in published research. Our analysis supports an alternate way of thinking about sponsoring and has implications for human resource practice. We suggest reversing the hierarchical positioning of sponsors and sponsees to counter the (ir)resilience created in a hierarchical sponsoring relationship. The resulting artificially introduced hystericisation will set the scene for radical change and build career resilience in women, both as sponsors and sponsees.

‘Quoi du reste’, to paraphrase Derrida on Hegel in Glas, ‘ici, maintenant, d'une Carmen?’ What's left of Carmen here and now? Aside from its intrinsic interest, the question seems worth asking in light of a bias that recent treatments of opera – particularly those influenced by poststrucuralist theory – seem to betray. The most prominent, Catherine Clément's Opera, or The Undoing of Women, Michel Poizat's The Angel's Cry and Jeremy Tambling's Opera, Ideology, and Film, regard opera as an institution rather than as a body of texts. Each of the authors, to my mind at least, allows a prior structure or structures – the systemic presence of male domination and its construction of women in society, a quasi-Lacanian understanding of unconscious fantasy, the bourgeois construction of operatic experience – to constrain what operas, and opera, can mean. They thus produce what are in effect reception studies or analyses of the audience, which is perhaps why they operate at some distance from the detail of the texts, musical or verbal, of the operas they analyse.

The following paper sets out to highlight the interconnectedness between philosophy and language through a demonstration on how Lacanian psychoanalysis can add texture to literary analysis. Because discourse is in constant flux, it is only natural that adapting a suitably compatible interpretive methodology becomes the norm for the study of language and literature. Unfortunately, adjusting one’s methods of literary critique according to the type of text to be analyzed is far from common practice. In the hopes that this issue might be discussed in further depth, this paper argues that a psychoanalytical approach to literary analysis is particularly well-adapted for the postmodern genre.

In a poststructuralist world where certainty is located in bygone times, aestheticization of discourse stems from a poetry of deconstruction present at different levels in Le Livre des fuites (1969) and Naissances des fantômes (1998), both by J.M.G. Le Clézio, and Bref séjour chez les vivants (2001) by Marie Darrieussecq. At the crossroads of (Freudian and Lacanian) psychoanalysis and structuralism, the present analysis aims to unveil the psychological route of insane characters who seek to capture the brief and unveil the instant. The process implies a fractal construction, dominated by spatiotemporal psychic fragments, the punctual use of which sets up a fragmentary regime.

In this paper, I call for a re-consideration of anarchism and its alternative ways of conceptualising spaces for radical politics. Here I apply a Lacanian analysis of the social imaginary to explore the utopian fantasies and desires that underpin social spaces, discourses and practices – including planning, and revolutionary politics. I will go on to develop – via Castoriadis and others – a distinctly post-anarchist conception of political space based around the project of autonomy and the re-situation of the political space outside the state. This will have direct consequences for an alternative conception of planning practice and theory.

Starting from the concepts “fiction line [ligne de fiction]” and “textual unconciousness”, developed by Lacan and Jean Bellemin-Noël respectively, this article presents the analysis of a piece of the Alejandra Pizarnik’s diary. The text seems representative of the author’s meta-literary concerns, among which stands out the conflict between the language as a tool and the non-communicable nature of the reality. The psychoanalytic analysis of the discourse given by the subject of the statement reveals, as Kristeva argues, a desire to transcend the narrow limits of the symbolic sphere and to open an alternative literary space closer to the embodiment and its drives.

The article analyses Jacques Lacan’s theory of rupture that encompasses the three planes – the imaginary, the Symbolic and the Real – that comprise his topology. It is named the theory of rupture because it allows grasping the unfinished Lacanian subject as it encounters Other in all of those planes. The main question is whether this lack could be considered as positive. The attention is paid to the phallic signifier; the hypothesis is that this signifier, by linking the symbolic and the Real, allows the creation of new meanings and the resistance towards the fundamental fantasy.The Lacanian ternary conception of topology helps us to analyse the field of politics. While grasping this field from the “ex-sisting” perspective of the Real, we can observe the two scenarios of the development of (political) subject. On the one hand, there is a possible link between the subject and fantasy, in which one tries to compensate for the lack of the Real by “comforting” itself in the plane of symbolic discourse. On the other hand, in the alternative scenario, the subject consciously admits its lack, rejects the fantasy and begins to create new names which “hole” the symbolic discourse itself as well as the insufficiency of the symbolic field. The Real is defended by the phallic signifier, which helps to maintain the subject’s negativity and militancy. By enclosing the Real into the Symbolic we create the new consistency as the subject seeks not to maintain a passive form and place inside the structure, but names the positive lack in the structure itself and thereby creates the new political content.

This article explores the question of identification through a Lacanian lens, paying specific attention to the interruption of identification in the self-presentation of employees. Jacques Lacan’s notion of the Real is taken up here as a conceptualization of the limits inherent in representation, and the unexpected effects of signification that go beyond the meaning effects engendered in the process of speaking. Identification is viewed here as an iterative condensation and simplification of recurrent significations within a local organizational context, aiming to displace and repress the indeterminacy of meaning and the failure of intentionality in discourse. Interview material from a public sector case study is used to analyse identifications with images of the ‘ideal employee’, which can be interpreted through interviewees’ moves to demarcate themselves from images of the ‘non-ideal’. The analysis then turns to examine interruptions in this self-presentation in the form of slips, contradictions and breakdowns of the narrative. The article concludes that the examined interruptions indicate considerable space for resistance and re-signification in identifications.

Abstract Unlike its English version, first published in 2011, Discours, figure was published in Spanish in 1979, four years after Francisco Franco's death, during the Spanish transition to democracy. The relevance of this information is connected to the fact that the man who introduced Lyotard to the Spanish intellectual scene was the now controversial Spanish liberal-conservative journalist Federico Jiménez Losantos. However, at the time, Losantos was not only known for being an unwavering supporter of Maoism, but he was also among the first promoters of Lacanian psychoanalysis in Barcelona and one of the main theorists devoted to the study of reductive abstraction in Spain. The purpose of this article is threefold, as it intends to (1) break down the publishing dynamics that led to Lyotard's work being translated into Spanish so early on; (2) delve into the context of that translation within a very specific framework, which is the shift toward liberalism of many post-’68 Maoists; and (3) analyze the poor reception of Lyotard's work by the Spanish-speaking public. To approach these questions, this article resorts to one of the fundamental premises of the economy of desire that Lyotard postulated in the 1970s: that any research on political economy must be paired with an analysis of its libidinal economy.

We draw on Lacan’s notion of language to study employee subjectivity in a public sector organization (Publica) in the Netherlands. Our main contribution lies in using Lacan’s theorization of language and subjectivity as a basis for a detailed textual analysis of how local organizational discourses shape and inform the subjectivities of employees. We situate our approach within the literature on subjectivity, language and power in work organizations before describing how we carried out interviews to elicit interviewees’ accounts of performance management. The mechanisms of metonymy and punctuation, two central features of a Lacanian conceptualization of language, are analysed by means of a relational analysis of key performance signifiers that we identify in the interview texts. We show how the signification of performance in Publica is pinned down by a central empty signifier which can be understood as a ‘quilting point’ and serves as a site for employee desire and identification. Finally, we show how desire and identification are channelled in specific ways to activate employee self-regulation in achieving the devolvement of responsibility and labour intensification.

Psychoanalytic literary criticism has always had a particular fascination with texts dealing with the supernatural, the mysterious and the monstrous. Unfortunately such criticism, valuable and provocative though the insights it has provided have been, has all too often treated the text as a “symptom” by which to explain or analyse an essentially extratextual factor, such as the author's psychological disposition. Many interpretations of Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein provide typical examples of this approach. Much psychoanalytic (and also feminist) criticism and interpretation of the novel have focused on the female psyche “behind” the text, showing how the psychoanalytic dynamics structuring Shelley’s own life have found precipitation in her novel. This article offers an alternative to this type of psychoanalytic reading by interpreting the novel in terms of a framework derived from Lacanian psychoanalysis, focusing on the text itself. This interpretation focuses primarily on the interrelated aspects of language, gender, desire and power as manifested in the novel, with the aim of highlighting some hitherto largely unexplored aspects of the text which may be useful in situating the text within the larger current discourse concerning issues of language and power.

Psychoanalysis is gaining popularity as a tool for interrogating political problems. This paper applies the three fundamental diagnostic categories of neurosis, psychosis and perversion to Malaysian socio-political discourse. This endeavour is urgent given the political upheavals in the country since the 2008 general elections where the ruling National Alliance regime lost its two-third majority in parliament, a result repeated again five years later at the thirteenth general elections. Nevertheless, democratic abuses and religious extremism remain strife (and has arguably grown worse) in the country. Political action is thus rendered even more urgent and thus, arguably, the need for fresh lenses with which to view the present (and even past) injustices perpetuated by the reigning administration. As such, this paper will analyse issues and events like the ‘Allah’ controversy, Mahathirism, Ops Lalang and cronyism in Malaysian politics, and seeks to do so using conceptual tools of a Lacanian-Žižekian nature. If the nature of the problem can be reviewed and rethought, perhaps a new way of thinking about the solutions may also arise, leading even to a reimagining of the very idea of the political.

Resumen El horizonte teórico del Análisis Político del Discurso (Political Analysis of Discourse, o APD) afirma la ontología política de toda identidad, desde una particular concepción del lenguaje, de los discursos sociales y del sujeto. Cuando postula la imposibilidad última de la sociedad como totalidad significante plena y establemente articulada, esta perspectiva transdisciplinaria indaga la conflictividad inherente a la historicidad y contingencia de todo proceso identitario, analizando las luchas por la hegemonía alrededor de diferencias y antagonismos circulantes en el espacio social. El APD incorpora herramientas conceptuales de diferentes campos de conocimiento (tales como la lingüística post-estructuralista, la teoría política postmarxista, el psicoanálisis lacaniano y el pensamiento filosófico de la deconstrucción). En este escrito expondremos una revisión y valoración de sus principales aportes al análisis social desde América Latina, en tanto constituye una particular elaboración epistemológica para abordar la dimensión político-discursiva de las disputas por la hegemonía y el sentido.

Purpose This paper furnishes an inaugural reading of abjective consumption by drawing on Kristeva’s psychoanalytic theory of abjection within the wider terrain of consumer cultural research. It offers a conceptual framework that rests on three pillars, viz. irrationality, meaninglessness, dissolution of selfhood. Design/methodology/approach Qualitative research design that adopts a documentary ethnographic approach, by drawing on a corpus of 50 documentary episodes from the TV series “My Strange Addiction” and “Freaky Eaters”. Findings The findings from this analysis point to different orders of mediatized discourse that are simultaneously operative in different actors’ frames (e.g. moralizing, medical), in Goffman’s terms, yet none of which attains to address the phenomenon of abjective consumption to its full-blown extent. Research limitations/implications Although some degree of bias is bound to be inherent in the data because of their pre-recorded status, they are particularly useful not in the least because this is a “difficult sample” in qualitative methodological terms. Practical implications The multi-order dimensionalization of abjective consumption opens up new vistas to marketers in terms of adding novel dimensions to the message structure of their communicative programs, in line with the three Lacanian orders. Social implications The adoption of a consumer psychoanalytic perspective allows significant others to fully dimensionalize the behavior of abjective consumption subjects, by becoming sensitive to other than symbolic aspects that are endemic in consumer behavior. Originality/value This paper contributes to the extant consumer cultural research literature by furnishing the novel conceptual framework of abjective consumption, as a further elaboration of my consumer psychoanalytic approach to jouissance consumption, as well as by contrasting this interpretive frame vis-à-vis dominant discursive regimes.

AbstractIn this article, I set out different relationships between planning theory, research and practice, drawing on Lacan's "production of four discourses". I argue that each element of the planning theory-research-practice 'triad' acts as the discursive 'agent' and gives rise to particular kinds of 'subject-planner' (the 'master', the 'expert', the 'idealistic' and the 'pragmatic') with specific ideological upshots ('hidden' big other, 'feigned' big other, hysteria and subjective destitution). Primarily a theoretical discussion, the article is also partially underpinned by my own practical experience in planning. While Lacanian psychoanalytical theory has already entered the planning field, its deployment has been mostly centred on deconstructing both planning decision-making processes and the mediation of planners in creating and implementing plans. Hence, the attempt here is to look in more depth at the 'ambivalent' role of the planner as well as to bring in 'planning research', as a key, somewhat occluded, element within the discussion on bridging planning theory and practice. Further, in the literature there seems to be a sort of omnipresent assumption that 'valid' reflection on planning can only come from the 'outside', which in turn perpetuates the role of the academic researcher simply trying to decode and analyse what the practitioner does (or tries to do). Critical impressions from those 'out there', 'on the job', are still missing. They, far from mere anecdotic accounts, ought to comprise self-inflicted criticism triggered by a sense of discomfort with what's being done – by the hysterical question of "why am I a planner?" and "why I am doing this or that?"

To think about the literal position of a queer subject, that is, the place where the subject is materially and in relation to other subjects, is to confront the myriad ways in which that subject will be conditioned depending upon how proximate space is normatively differentiated and vice versa. In the context of urban space, by which I mean less a quantity than a quality of density, the spatial narrative that supports the queer subject is twofold—emigration and speculation. First, x escapes a repressive and oppressive rural environment to seek amnesty, either in the form of celebrated welcome or anonymity, in an urban one. Subsequently, x forages into the concrete jungle, creating and in pursuit of circuits of sexual partners and diverse sociabilities.This trajectory, however, has become increasingly contested, both for the way in which it upholds an imaginary boundary between rural and urban and for the subjects it obscures in the process. Pointedly, Karen Tongson, in her essay The Light That Never Goes Out: Butch Intimacies and Sub-Urban Sociabilities in ‘Lesser Los Angeles,’ provides a reading of Samuel Delany’s Times Square Red, Times Square Blue and Jane Jacobs’ The Death and Life of Great American Cities next to Richard Florida’s Cities and the Creative Class to suggest that “the cultural value assigned to urban modes of queer life—to its mobility, style, innovation, improvisation, liveliness, and ‘contact’—has appreciated urban property values while depreciating modes of racialized queer sociability.” Significantly, then, cultural capital appreciates not only in direct proportion to urban property values, but also in favour of the “upwardly mobile queers,” who will eventually be able to inhabit them (364).While Tongson’s analysis is site-specific to east Los Angeles, I want to take a less local approach and consider how alongside locating queers as being complicit with gentrification, might they also be positioned outside of it. I will consider what the aesthetic implications of this might be on sub-urban space. I employ the term sub-urban, as distinct from both urban and suburban, to name a reconceptualization of the city that takes into account the necessary excess produced by the city that cannot be contained by its zoning. This conception hearkens to the etymology of the sub- in suburban, as outside of and spatially beneath the elevated and walled Roman city.The paper will proceed in three parts. The first, The Queen Is Dead, turns to a filmic example of adult sub-urban space. The second, I Sit Down on the Sling Seat and See the City Spread Out between My Legs, provides a textual example of adolescent sub-urban space. And the third, The Future Is Always a Day Away, establishes the theoretical framework in which the argument is couched. Significantly, this framework draws on Lee Edelman's indictment against the Child in his book No Future, which itself draws on Lacanian psychoanalysis and the idea that the future is linguistically-bound. Edelman’s Child is analogized to the discourse surrounding gentrification not only as it privileges creating safe neighborhoods for the rearing of real children, but also as it invests in the idea of a brighter future.

We present data from an exploratory qualitative interview-based pedagogical research project on the development of student agency in higher education. Our aim was to respond to Nick Zepke’s claim that what is often missing from the current neoliberal discourse of higher education ‘is students having a voice in what and how they learn and how they can action their voice in the wider community as agentic citizens.’ Informed by Lacanian discourse analysis, our project investigated the opportunities and threats facing some of our undergraduate students as they struggled to exercise agency and develop autonomy in the marketised university. Repeat interviews (n = 15) with final year students focussed on the psychosocial categories of power, affect, intersubjectivity and desire. The analysis was guided by Lacan’s theory of the four discourses, an account of the vicissitudes of agency. We found that students can move between discourses depending on the extent to which their agency (operationalised here as Lacan’s ‘object cause of desire,’ the objet petit a) was enabled or thwarted. Our critique of the metaphor of the ‘student journey’ addresses the implications for learning and teaching and the university’s mission to develop its students in light of perceived commercial pressures.

This paper introduces the concept of ordinary entrepreneurial psychosis. This concept was discovered in the analysis of a case study of a tech entrepreneur in Colombia and elaborated with the aid of Lacanian psychoanalytic theory. Specifically, we draw on Jacques Lacan’s conception of the discourse of the capitalist and his distinction between repression and foreclosure ( Verwerfung). The practice of entrepreneurship, we argue, is the most perfect instantiation of what Lacan called the discourse of the capitalist. This is a discourse without limits characterised by denial of castration and lack, a discourse that at is most radical promises liberation through a break with the symbolic order, the relation to the other, and indeed with the world as such. In this particular case study, such a break is materialised in a literal belief in magic, a specifically modern and non-occult magic of deception and misdirection that promises great results from nothing. Such magical thinking, we argue, is at the heart of the entrepreneurial fantasy. To explain this broken relation to symbolic order that is characteristic of entrepreneurship, we draw on Lacanian theory and in particular Jacques-Alain Miller’s concept of ‘ordinary psychosis’ to explain the structural homology between entrepreneurship discourse and the analytic category of psychosis. The structure of this discourse, we argue, brings with it not only magical and hallucinatory thinking, but moreover what we propose here to call ordinary entrepreneurial psychosis.

Focusing on the debates on ‘due impartiality’ provided to far-right leaders in Swedish media, this article uses a Lacanian approach to address the relationship between the practices of normalisation of far-right discourses and fantasies, and the evolution of emotional governance at the interstice of old (i.e. traditional) and new (e.g. social media) media. Emotional governance refers to the everyday emotionally charged utterances and statements made by political leaders. However, this phenomenon can also be read in a larger Foucauldian sense as techniques of surveillance, control and manipulation and as related to narrative representational fantasies. Studies dealing with the normalisation of far-right discourse from a media perspective tend to focus on framing, journalistic norms, market structures and business incentives. We aim to expand these perspectives by opening a discussion on the interplay between the ontological (in)securities attached to the emotional governance of far-right leaders, and the techno-social affordances and roles provided to (and by) ‘old’ and ’new’ actors in the hybrid media ecosystem. We further analyse this interplay by looking at the particular fantasies embedded in it and the consequences of the enactment of ‘due impartiality' and equal footing’ norms and practices in the Swedish media landscape.

Numerous novel planning concepts have been developed in pursuit of better urban environments, while many are notoriously difficult to define. Lacan’s master signifier is widely employed to criticise these vague, fashionable concepts but lacks a specific examination tool. To fill this gap, this article develops an analytical framework based on Lacanian discourse analysis (LDA) to decipher the complex social relations in the process of applying new concepts to planning policymaking and practice. A comprehensive review of the UK urban village movement is used to demonstrate how this framework provides a deeper analysis, arguing that urban villages are understood differently depending on individual social positions, which, to some extent, determine their actions towards planning practice.

The figure of the tech entrepreneur has gained special relevance in the contemporary world. Recognized stories of success such as those of Steve Jobs, Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg have popularized worldwide the imagination of the young student who starts a garage company with nothing more than his own passion, intelligence and determination, and becomes a global celebrity and a billionaire in just a few years. Nevertheless, the discourses and cultural productions that shape this figure do not always adhere to empirical consequences and factual data, but in fact, are the result of some processes determined by the desires and dreams of those who construct and transmit it (entrepreneurs, entrepreneurship gurus and experts, advertisers, government agencies, etc.), as well as those who consume it (young people with entrepreneurial aspirations). In this process of analyzing the “material/empiric” dimension of the figure of the tech entrepreneur in contrast with the “symbolic/imaginary” dimension, this article proposes a theoretical discussion between the Actor-Network-Theory, the Lacanian psychoanalysis and the Social Imaginaries theory. Based on the work by Lacan, Latour and Taylor and recurring to interviews applied to tech entrepreneurs in Colombia in different stages of development, it is concluded that the symbolic/imaginary dimension plays a fundamental role in structuring the contemporary figure of the tech entrepreneur with important implications at the level of the material/empirical reality, insofar as it shapes actions and objects. Thus, the Lacanian theory and the Social Imaginaries constitute two fundamental frameworks of analysis that contribute to understanding more comprehensively how the tech sector works as well as what sort of technological objects are created.

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash ABSTRACT In cases where the law conflicts with bioethics, the status of rights must be determined to resolve some of the tensions. This paper considers the origins of both legal and philosophical rights, arguing that rights per se do not exist naturally. Even natural rights that are constitutional or statutory came from relationships rather than existing in nature. Once agreed upon, rights develop moral influence. INTRODUCTION l. The Question of Rights The language of rights is omnipresent in current discourse in law, bioethics, and many other disciplines. Rights dialogue is frequently contentious – some thinkers take issue with various uses of rights in the modern dialogue. For example, some criticize “rights talk,” which heightens social conflict when used as a “trump” against disfavored arguments.[1] Others are displeased by what is termed “rights inflation,” where too many novel rights are developed, such that the rights these scholars view as “more important” become devalued.[2] Some solutions have been proposed: one recommendation is that rights should be restricted to extremely important or essential ones. Some Supreme Court justices make arguments for applying original meanings in legal cases.[3] Conflict over the quantity and status of rights has long been a subject of debate in law and philosophy. Even Jefferson had to balance his own strict reading of the Constitution with tendencies to exceed the plain text of the document.[4] This thread of discourse has grown in political prominence over the years, with more Supreme Court cases that suggest newly developed (or, perhaps, newly recognized) rights. The theoretical conflict between textualists and those looking to intent or context could lead to repealing rights to abortion, sterilization, or marital privacy and deeply impacts our daily lives. Bioethics is ubiquitous, and rights discourse is fundamental. This paper analyzes the assumptions that underlie the existence of rights. The law is steeped in philosophy, though philosophical theories have an often-unacknowledged role. This is especially true in cases that navigate difficult bioethical issues. As a result of this interleaving, the ontological status of rights is necessary to resolve some of the theoretical tensions. Many philosophers have either argued for or implicitly included human rights in their theories of morality and legality. However, there is no universally accepted definition of rights; various philosophers have their own approaches. For example: Louden comments, “Rights are permissions rather than requirements. Rights tell us what the bearer is at liberty to do”; Martin thinks that a right is “an established way of acting”; Hohfeld concludes that all rights are claims.[5] Similarly, there is dissent about the qualities of rights: The Declaration of Independence characterizes rights as unalienable, but not all thinkers agree. Nickel comments, “Inalienability does not mean that rights are absolute or can never be overridden by other considerations. . . Perhaps it is sufficient to say that [human] rights are very hard to lose.”[6] This discord necessitates additional analysis. “Many people tend to take the validity of. . . rights for granted. . . However, moral philosophers do not enjoy such license for epistemological complacency.”[7] Because of the fundamental impact that political and moral philosophy enacted as the law have, this paper considers the origins of both legal and philosophical rights, arguing that rights per se do not exist naturally. Even natural rights that are constitutional or statutory came from relationships rather than existing in nature. Once agreed upon, rights take on moral force. ll. Legal Rights: From Case to Constitution Bioethics and law sometimes address rights differently. Three Supreme Court cases marked the development of privacy rights in the United States: Griswold v. Connecticut (1965), Roe v. Wade (1973) and Cruzan v. Director, Missouri Department of Health (1990). These cases shape the normative dialogue and consider complex moral quandaries. Griswold v. Connecticut concerned providing contraception to married couples in contravention of state law. Justice Douglas writes for the majority that, based in “a right of privacy older than the Bill of Rights,” legally protected zones of privacy extend from the text of the Constitution. “Specific guarantees in the Bill of Rights have penumbras, formed by emanations from those guarantees that help give them life and substance.”[8] Writing in dissent, Justice Black argues that there is not a broad right to privacy included in the provisions of the Constitution, and expresses concern over “dilut[ion] or expans[ion]” of enumerated rights by terms such as privacy, which he characterizes as abstract and ambiguous – and subject to liberal reinterpretation.[9] He concludes that the government does have the right to invade privacy “unless prohibited by some specific constitutional provision.”[10] Also dissenting, Justice Stewart finetunes the argument: rather than look to community values beyond the Constitution, the Court ought to rely solely on text of the document, in which he “can find no such general right of privacy in the Bill of Rights, in any other part of the Constitution, or in any case ever decided by this court.”[11] Thus, Griswold v. Connecticut is an example of the tensions within the Supreme Court over strict textualism or broader interpretations of the Constitution that look to intent and purpose. Roe v. Wade held that there is a right to privacy found through the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment that includes the right to make medical decisions including abortion. While the conclusion – that there is a Constitutionally protected right to abortion, with certain limits seems to expand the Griswold doctrine of privacy rights, dissent to the ruling stems from much the same concern as before. Justice Rehnquist writes: A transaction resulting in an operation such as this is not "private" in the ordinary usage of that word. Nor is the "privacy" that the Court finds here even a distant relative of the freedom from searches and seizures protected by the Fourth Amendment to the Constitution, which the Court has referred to as embodying a right to privacy.[12] However, he then departs from the stricter approach of Justices Black and Stewart: I agree… that the "liberty," against deprivation of which without due process the Fourteenth Amendment protects, embraces more than the rights found in the Bill of Rights. But that liberty is not guaranteed absolutely against deprivation, only against deprivation without due process of law.[13] This is a tempering of the stricter constructionism found earlier, where more latitude is allowed for the interpretation of the text of the Constitution, even though there are clearly limits on how far the words may be stretched, with the genesis of a new right. Later, in Planned Parenthood of Southwestern Pennsylvania v. Casey, the Court further refined Roe v. Wade implementing an “undue burden” test.[14] In Cruzan v. Director, Missouri Department of Health, the Court held that there is a general liberty interest in the refusal of medical treatment. The case continues the tradition of Griswold and Roe v. Wade ensuring a liberty that is beyond the text, but also allows states to impose a strict evidentiary burden to shape how the right is exercised. The Court affirmed the lower court’s decision that “because there was no clear and convincing evidence of Nancy [Cruzan’s] desire to have life-sustaining treatment withdrawn. . . her parents lacked authority to effectuate such a request.”[15] The Supreme Court found that the clear and convincing evidentiary burden applied by the Missouri Supreme Court was consistent with the Due Process clause. Justice Scalia notes that even though he agrees with the Court’s decision, he finds this judgment unnecessary or, perhaps counterproductive, because the philosophical underpinnings of the case “are neither set forth in the Constitution nor known to the nine Justices of this Court any better than they are known to nine people picked at random from the Kansas City telephone directory” and should be left to the states to legislate as they see fit.[16] He goes on to further argue that the Due Process clause “does not protect individuals against deprivations of liberty simpliciter”; rather, it protects them from infringements of liberty that are not accompanied by due process.[17] Justice Scalia’s textualist position likely influenced his remarks.[18] Comparing these cases, I argue there is a distinct effort to make the Constitution amenable to contemporary mores and able to address present issues that is moderated by justices who adhere to the text. The legal evolution of rights that are beyond the text of the Constitution may reflect social norms as well as the framers’ intent. Rights are protected by the Constitution, but the Constitution is mutable, through both case law and legislation. Prior to the adoption of the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence declared: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.[19] The Declaration of Independence gives insight into rights prior to the Constitution by referring to a priori rights extended by a creator, sheltered and supported by the state.[20] For earlier evidence of rights, Supreme Court cases often reference English common law doctrines. The common law was informed by preexisting principles and drew on a historical body of thought: philosophy. Exploring philosophy can give insight about the evolution of law. lll. Philosophical Rights: Issues of Ontology A moral right, the precursor to many legal rights, in some ways is a claim that bears moral weight. One relevant distinction is between positive and negative rights: a positive right is a claim on another to do something for the right holder; a negative right is a claim on others to leave the rights holder alone. Some rights are per se (that is, rights that have a de novo ontological origin) and some are constructed (rights that are secondary to some other theoretical apparatus). We must appeal to the state of nature to understand the origin of rights. If rights exist in the state of nature, they are de novo; if not, they are constructed. The state of nature is the theoretical realm where there are no social conventions or no normative rules. The theoretical state of nature is stateless. Hobbes writes about the state of nature. He constructs the person within as incorporating two normative qualities: the law of nature, “whereby individuals are forbidden to do anything destructive of their lives or to omit the means of self-preservation,” and the right of nature, where the person has the “right to all things” – those things required for self-preservation.[21] Similarly, more contemporary philosophers have also inferred that the right to freedom is a natural right.[22] I argue that nature allows every person the freedom to all things, or a natural right against limitation on freedom. Every person has the capacity to do whatever they want, in accordance with their reason; liberty, rather than being a normative claim, is a component of the essence of beings. Yet both nature and other people pose some limitations. Early modern contractarians’ status theories maintain that human attributes engender rights. [23] A specific formulation of human status ethics can be found in Kantian deontology. From the autonomous and rational will, Kant evolves his Categorical Imperative: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”[24] Without (or before) law, philosophers suggested behaviors should reflect moral rights. Like Rawls, I maintain that the state of nature includes both a scarcity of resources and individuals with whom we may develop conflicts of interest.[25] Individually, we are vulnerable to others, and because of that natural vulnerability, we have an inclination toward self-interest.[26] Therefore, we eventually find the state of nature unsatisfactory and move to create a civil society. Then the subsequent pathway to creating “rights” is well known. People agree on them and act accordingly. Then, they are enshrined in the law.[27] I attribute the impetus to move from the state of nature toward government to interpersonal interaction that creates a form of the social contract. Rawls qualitatively describes this when he notes the “identity of interests” that powers interpersonal cooperation.[28] To me, the development of positive social relations has three components. The first is the human capacity for empathy. Empathy is commonly accepted by psychologists as universal.[29] Kittay deepens the concept of human empathy, arguing that there is a “register of inevitable human dependency” – a natural sense of care found in the human experience of suffering and decay and death to which we all eventually succumb, necessitating a recognition of interdependence and cooperation.[30] The second is the importance of identity in generating social cooperation.[31] There is a sense of familial resemblance that resonates when we see others in our lives, forming the base of the identification that allows us to create bonds of mutual assent. A microsociety develops when people are exposed to each other and acts as a miniaturized state, governed by what is at first an implicit social contract. An internal order is generated and can be codified. The third component of social relations is the extension of the otherness-yet-sameness beyond human adults. Mirroring connects the fully abled adult man and the woman, as well as the child, the physically and mentally disabled, and could extend to animals as well.[32] Therefore, to me, it seems that rights do not exist per se in the state of nature, but because of our human capacities, relationships yield a social contract. This contract governs interpersonal relations with normative power: rights are constructed. Once constructed based on people in micro-society and then larger groups, rights were codified. Negative rights like those found in the U.S. Constitution allow people in liberal society to codify nearly universal ground rules in certain arenas while respecting minority views and differing priorities. However, the social contract is not absolute: it may be broken by any party with the power to enforce their will upon the other and it will evolve to reflect changing standards. So, there is a subtle distinction to be made: in unequal contractual social relations, there are not constructed rights but rather privileges. In a social relationship that aims at equal status among members, these privileges are normative claims – rights that are not inherent or a priori but mandated to be equally applied by society’s governing body. In this way, I differ from Rawls. To me, justice is a fundamental moral principle only for societies that aim at cooperation, where advancing the interests of all is valued.[33] CONCLUSION From Liberty to Law Social contractualism purports to provide moral rules for its followers even when other ethical systems flounder in the state of nature. Relationships consider the needs and wants of others. Rights exist, with the stipulation that they are constructed under social contracts that aim for equality of application. I also suggest that contractualist approaches may even expand the parties who may be allowed rights, something that has significant bearing on the law and practical bioethics. The strict/loose constructionism debate that has played out in the Supreme Court’s decisions focuses on whether rights are enumerated or implied. Theoretical or implicit contracts may be change quickly, based on the power dynamics in a social relationship. Theoretical bounds of the social contract (possibly including animals, nonhumans, etc.) may be constricted by an official contract, so these concerns would need to be adjudicated in the context of the Constitution. In certain cases, strict interpretation reflects the rights determined by the social compact and limits new positive rights; in others, a broad interpretation keeps government out of certain decisions, expanding negative rights to reflect changing social norms. The negative rights afforded in the Constitution provide a framework meant to allow expansive individual choices and freedom. The underlying social compact has more to do with the norms behind societal structure than forcing a set of agreed upon social norms at the level of individual behavior. The Constitution’s text can be unclear, arbitrary, or open to multiple meanings. The literary theorist may be willing to accept contradiction or multiple meanings, but the legal scholar may not. The issue of whether the social compact is set or evolving affects constitutional interpretation. The law is itself may be stuck in a state of indeterminacy: the law, in the eyes of the framers, was centered on a discourse steeped in natural, human rights, attributed to a creator. Today, there is an impulse toward inherent human dignity to support rights. The strict/loose constructionism debate concerns interpretation.[34] In conclusion, rights have no ontological status per se, but are derived from a complex framework that springs from our relationships and dictates the appropriateness of our actions. While the Constitution establishes the negative rights reflecting a social compact, interpretations recognize the limitations on rights that are also rooted in societal relationships. The author would like to thank Stephen G. Post, PhD, and Caitlyn Tabor, JD, for providing feedback on early drafts of this paper. [1] Mary Ann Glendon, A World Made New: Eleanor Roosevelt and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (New York: Random House, 2001), 14. [2] James Griffin, On Human Rights (Oxford: Oxford University, 2008). [3] Maurice Cranston, What Are Human Rights? (London: Bodley Head, 1973). [4] Barry Balleck, “When The Ends Justify the Means: Thomas Jefferson and the Louisiana Purchase,” Presidential Studies Quarterly 22, no. 4 (1992): 679-680. [5] Robert Louden, “Rights Infatuation and the Impoverishment of Moral Theory,” Journal of Value Inquiry 17 (1983): 95; Rex Martin, A System of Rights (Oxford: Oxford University, 1993), 1; Wesley Hohfeld, Fundamental Legal Conceptions (New Haven: Yale University, 1919), 36. [6] James Nickel, "Human Rights", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2019 Edition), ed. Edward N. Zalta, accessed 27 April 2021, https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2019/entries/rights-human/. [7] Andrew Fagan, “Human Rights,” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. James Fieser and Bradley Dowden, accessed 27 April 2021, https://iep.utm.edu/hum-rts/. [8] Griswold v. Connecticut 381 U.S. 479 (1965), para. 18, https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/381/479. [9] Griswold v. Connecticut 381 U.S. 479 (1965), para. 69 https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/381/479. [10] Griswold v. Connecticut 381 U.S. 479 (1965), para. 69 https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/381/479. [11] Griswold v. Connecticut 381 U.S. 479 (1965), para. 92 https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/381/479. [12] Roe v. Wade 410 U.S. 113 (1973), 172, https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/410/113%26amp. [13] Roe v. Wade 410 U.S. 113 (1973), 172-173, https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/410/113%26amp. [14] Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pa. v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (1992), https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/505/833/#:~:text=Casey%2C%20505%20U.S.%20833%20(1992)&text=A%20person%20retains%20the%20right,the%20mother%20is%20at%20risk. [15] Cruzan v. Director, Missouri Department of Health 497 U.S. 261 (1990), https://www.law.cornell.edu/supct/html/88-1503.ZO.html. [16] Cruzan v. Director, Missouri Department of Health 497 U.S. 261 (1990), https://www.law.cornell.edu/supct/html/88-1503.ZO.html. [17] Cruzan v. Director, Missouri Department of Health 497 U.S. 261 (1990), https://www.law.cornell.edu/supct/html/88-1503.ZO.html. [18] It is worth noting that some of the Supreme Court’s conservatives – like Scalia, Thomas, Roberts – have expressed explicit disdain for the right to privacy introduced in Griswold. Jamal Greene, “The So-Called Right to Privacy,” UC Davis Law Review 43 (2010): 715-747, https://scholarship.law.columbia.edu/faculty_scholarship/622. [19] National Archives. “Declaration of Independence: A Transcription.” July 4, 1776; reviewed July 24, 2020, https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript. [20] However, the reference to a creator has come to mean a natural right and a priori best describes it rather than a religious underpinning. To borrow from Husserl, this approach will be bracketed out. [21] DJC Carmichael, “Hobbes on Natural Right in Society: The ‘Leviathan’ Account,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 23, no. 1 (1990): 4-5. [22] HLA Hart, “Are There Any Natural Rights?” The Philosophical Review 64, no. 2 (1955): 175. [23] Warren Quinn, Morality and Action (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1993), 170. [24] Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals, trans. James Ellington, 3rd ed. (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993), 30. [25] John Rawls, A Theory of Justice: Revised Edition (Cambridge: Belknap, 1999), 109. [26] JS Mill, Remarks on Bentham’s Philosophy, in Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, Vol. X, ed. JM Robson (Toronto: U of Toronto Press, 1985), 13-14. [27] Rex Martin, A System of Rights (Oxford: Oxford University, 1993), 1; Kenneth Baynes, “Kant on Property Rights and the Social Contract,” The Monist 72, no. 3 (1989): 433-453. [28] John Rawls, A Theory of Justice: Revised Edition (Cambridge: Belknap, 1999), 109. [29] Frederik von Harbou, “A Remedy Called Empathy: The Neglected Element of Human Rights Theory,” Archives for Philosophy of Law and Social Philosophy 99, no. 2 (2013): 141. [30] Eva Feder Kittay. Learning from My Daughter: The Value and Care of Disabled Minds (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2019), 145-146. [31] Jane Gallop, “Lacan’s ‘Mirror Stage’: Where to Begin,” SubStance 11, no. 4 (1983): 121; Lacan, Jacques. The Seminar of Jacques Lacan: Book X: Anxiety: 1962-1963, trans. Cormac Gallagher, 26-27, https://www.valas.fr/IMG/pdf/THE-SEMINAR-OF-JACQUES-LACAN-X_l_angoisse.pdf. (In Lacanian psychoanalytic theory, human development necessitates both recognition of the Self and the separation of the Self from the Other.) [32] Lacan, Jacques. The Seminar of Jacques Lacan: Book X: Anxiety: 1962-1963, trans. Cormac Gallagher, 27-28, https://www.valas.fr/IMG/pdf/THE-SEMINAR-OF-JACQUES-LACAN-X_l_angoisse.pdf. [33] There is an interesting discussion to be had about whether social contract theory allows for this gradation in quality of contracts, or whether the two are fundamentally different phenomena. I cannot answer this question here; John Rawls, A Theory of Justice: Revised Edition (Cambridge: Belknap, 1999), 102-103. [34] Ruthellen Josselson, “The Hermeneutics of Faith and the Hermeneutics of Suspicion,” Narrative Inquiry 14, no. 1 (2004): 2-4.

During his speech in Plato’s The Symposium, Aristophanes explains that humans were originally round, composed of two people joined together in a perfect sphere with four arms, four legs, and two faces. Unfortunately, humans grew arrogant and ambitious; as a result, Zeus punished them by cleaving them in two. Now altered from their natural form, humans yearn for their former selves: “It is from this situation, then, that love for one another developed in human beings. Love collects the halves of our original nature, and tries to make a single thing out of the two parts so as to restore our natural condition. Thus, each of us is the matching half of a human being, since we have been severed like a flatfish, two coming from one, and each part is always seeking its other half” (191d). So it is that what we call “love” is but the “desire for wholeness” (193a). Love is not, for Aristophanes, a union but a re-union/reuniting. While Aristophanes’ account is simultaneously comedic and horrific, and consequently also absurdly ridiculous, there persists an undercurrent of some nebulous tickle, a recognition of something tangibly familiar in his myth, even now. Were space-time not linear and Plato could have Barbara Streisand speak next at that Athenian table (though of course he wouldn’t, as she’s a woman), he would undoubtedly have her sing “People”: “Lovers are very special people. They’re the luckiest people in the world. With one person, one very special person, a feeling deep in your soul, says you were half, now you’re whole.” “You complete me,” Jerry (played by Tom Cruise) says to Dorothy (played by Renée Zellweger) in the movie Jerry Maguire. How many lovers today claim their relationship with their beloved was meant to be? Even in a postmodern world, we seemingly have not strayed far from the Platonic ideal in which “lovers are incomplete halves of a single puzzle, searching for each other in order to become whole” (Ackerman 95). Implied by this model—described by Irving Singer as the “idealist tradition” (Modern 12)—is an uncomplicated conception of self. A self posited as fundamentally incomplete must be viewed as fixed and virtually invariable; otherwise, a multiplicity of ways in addition to a soul mate might be found to give the impoverished self what it needs. Viewed as yearning for his or her “other half,” the individual is positioned outside of/separated from the wider culture because only the “one true love” can make the person “whole.” Even biological impulses and psychological factors can be dismissed as irrelevant or possibly even dangerous distractions when all that truly matters is finding one’s “better half.” A self thus conceived also suggests a rather simplistic view of romantic love, which becomes merely the desire to achieve wholeness by connecting—or reconnecting, as Plato’s Aristophanes would have it—with a complementary lover. Unfortunately, the idealist model’s emphasis on deficiency codifies an ontology of lack that tends to foster omissions, oversimplifications, and misinterpretations. But, as numerous influential thinkers have convincingly argued, identity is neither uniform nor stable—nor even uncontested. Subjectivity is more accurately characterised by complexity and multiplicity than by simplicity and singularity. What, then, of romantic love? Is romantic love in contemporary Western cultures similarly complex, and if so, so what? How would (re)conceptualising romantic love as complex extend our knowledge and understanding of complex systems? I want to contribute to this themed issue of M/C Journal on complex by approaching romantic love as a point of departure, as an analytical methodology. I maintain that a critical study of romantic love—one that begins rather than concludes with romantic love’s complexity—helps illustrate the productive nature of complex and the utility of employing complex as a conceptual/theoretical point of origin and inquiry. Crucially, my formulation configures complex as a productive process that is itself a product. In other words, complex can be usefully defined as an effect that produces other effects—including potentially subversive ones. While other definitions are certainly valid, conceiving complex as an outcome that generates further outcomes not only emphasises the dynamic, multifaceted nature of systems but also helps to explain that multifaceted dynamism. Romantic love illustrates well this conception of complex (as productive product) because romantic love only has meaning, only works, because it is complex to begin with. In this manner, romantic love is a process of creating complexity from complexity. An examination that begins from a point of complexity gains much, I feel, by beginning with a historicisation of that complexity, for complex, as outcome/effect, is always already contextualised, situated, and diachronic. Historicising romantic love is particularly crucial because the idealist model tends to dismiss the past (what matters the past once one has finally met the love of one’s life?) and confuse history—especially its own—with nature (as with the supposedly natural passivity of the feminine). According to Singer, the idealist tradition, first codified by Plato, was taken up by medieval theologians who, drawn by the tradition’s ideal of merging, sought to produce a mystical oneness with the divine (Courtly 23). Emphasis eventually moved from merging to the experience of merging, a move that facilitated the rise of courtly love. Transmuting religious reverence into human devotion, courtly love introduced such revolutionary and potentially heretical notions as the belief that “love is an intense, passionate relationship that establishes a holy oneness between man and woman” (23). The desire for oneness appears even more prominently in the Romanticism of the 19th century (288). Importantly, erotic love becomes for the first time conjoined with romantic love in a causal rather than antithetical or consequential relation: “To the Romantic, sexual desire is usually more than just a vehicle or concomitant of love; it is a prerequisite” (Modern 10). Little wonder, given such a trajectory, that romantic love today has virtually no meaning independent of sexual love (though sexual desire may or may not be linked to romantic love). Little wonder as well that romantic love is so complex. But there’s more. As Stephanie Coontz explains, marriage in the West was until only about two centuries ago a political and economic institution having little or nothing to do with romantic love (33). Anthony Giddens also points out the relatively recent shift from an economic to a romantic basis for marriage (26). Giddens associates this shift with the emergence of what he terms “plastic sexuality”: “decentered sexuality, freed from the needs of reproduction” (2). Plastic sexuality resulted from a combination of factors, most notably societal trends toward limiting family size coupled with advances in contraceptive and reproductive technologies (27). Allowing for greater freedom and pleasure (especially for women), plastic sexuality is for Giddens linked not only to romantic love but also, intrinsically, to self-identity (2, 40). This connection—along with the plastic sexuality that undergirds it—creates narratives of self (and other) that can project “a course of future development” (45), lead to greater reflexivity for the body and the self (31), and transform intimacy in ways potentially subversive and emancipative (3, 194). In any case, our (inter)personal existence is currently undergoing active transfiguration, Giddens asserts, to the point that “personal life has become an open project, creating new demands and anxieties” (8). My reading of Giddens places this continuous, reflexive project of self (what one might alternatively term the ongoing production of selves-in-process) against the plastic sexuality and pure relationships that engendered the project. Only a view of romantic love as productive, evolving, and full—in other words, complex—can account for the complex transformations of intimacy and self described by Giddens. Viewed more broadly, romantic love corresponds—in both the analogous and communicative meanings of the term—to/with the very poststructural/postmodern subject it helps to enact. Tamsin Lorraine’s lucid articulation of embodied subjectivity is worth quoting at length in this context: I assume that the selves we experience as our own are the product of a historically conditioned process involving both corporeal and psychic aspects of existence, that this process needs to be instituted and continually reiterated in a social context in order to give birth to and maintain the subject at the corporeal level of embodiment as well as the psychic level of self, and that language and social positioning within a larger social field play a crucial role in this process. In taking up a position in the social field as a speaker of language, a human being takes up a perspective from which to develop a narrative of self. (ix-x) Others have theorised identity as a narrative construct (Holstein and Gubrium; Rosenwald and Ochberg). What is significant here in reading Lorraine’s embodied subjectivity through the interpretative lens provided by Giddens is the particular kind of narrative suggested by such a reading. After all, not just any narrative will do. The “perspective” taken up by the reflexive subject (as described by Giddens) in the process of constructing a storied self necessarily requires a productive integration of the many “aspects of existence.” Otherwise, no such “position” could be taken, no agency established; the particular self would not even be. As such, the perspective is a product of complexity even as it attempts to compose its own complex product (a narrative identity). Additionally, romantic love conceived as complex, as a productive force, opens up possibilities for new stories and new selves, even when, as in Lacanian theory, desire is correlated with lack. Lacan maintains that “desire is neither the appetite for satisfaction nor the demand for love, but the difference which results from the subtraction of the first from the second—the very phenomenon of their splitting” (287). Lack presented thusly is positive inasmuch as lack causes desire, which in turn produces the subject as a subjectivity. “Without lack,” Bruce Fink asserts, “the subject can never come into being, and the whole efflorescence of the dialectic of desire is squashed” (103). For clarification, Fink provides a simple illustration: “Why would a child even bother to learn to speak if all its needs were anticipated?” (103). Desire here is correlated with lack in a manner that suggests movement and change, bringing to mind Anne Carson’s famous quip, “Desire moves. Eros is a verb” (17). Keeping in mind that romantic love has become inextricably entwined with sexual desire in the West, designs that interrogate desire vis-à-vis lack (a strategy that also characterises the approaches taken by Hegel and Sartre) operate equally well in regards to self-identities formed via romantic love. Certainly, then, if desire constituted as lack can produce complexity by remaining unsatisfied and unfilled, what then of an approach that configures desire itself as production? Such a theoretical grounding is central to the work of Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. For them, “everything is production” (Anti-Oedipus 4). In this view, life, the self, and even the body are not unified things but rather processes characterised by flow and multiplicity. Deleuze and Guattari emphasise the dynamic process of various sorts of “becoming” (Thousand 279). Becoming, in relation to romantic love and to other processes, involves not just individuals but assemblages. In this, Deleuze and Guattari present a collaborative conception of self involving the multiplicity of the two selves as well as the multiplicity “formed through the collaboration” (Lorraine 134). As Deleuze and Guattari explain, multiplicity “is continually transforming itself into a string of other multiplicities” (Thousand 249). To my mind, this “string” of multiplicities directly parallels the complex. Luce Irigaray’s project similarly views subjectivity as embodied, potentially collaborative, and creative. Specifically, however, Irigaray seeks to challenge the masculine specular subjectivity that fosters divisive dualisms and a sexual division of labour that privileges the masculine. She critiques the subject-object distinction that has always defined female sexuality “on the basis of masculine parameters” (This 204) and relegated the feminine to the role of other to the masculine subject. One of the more interesting aspects of Irigaray’s enterprise is her project of symbolic transformation, an attempt to symbolise an alternative feminine subjectivity: “Irigaray insists that we need to acknowledge two genders and work on providing the hitherto impoverished gender the symbolic support it needs to become more than the counterpart of masculinity. If the feminine were given the support of a gender in its own right, then feminine subjectivity could finally emerge” (Lorraine 91). What Irigaray advocates is a dialectical interaction between subjects that embraces both difference and corporeality, that is temporal, playful, reciprocal, and mutually nourishing (I Love 148). Elizabeth Grosz’s refiguring of desire somewhat echoes Irigaray’s stance. Drawing upon Deleuze and Guattarai, Grosz also conceptualises desire as productive and full. She insists that in order to understand this expanded conception of desire we must first “abandon our habitual understanding of entities as the integrated totality of parts, and instead focus on the elements, the parts, outside their integration or organisation; we must look beyond the organism to the organs comprising it” (78). Totalities remain and must be recognised, but an understanding of the dynamics of those totalities is better accomplished through an investigation of the parts rather the whole. In her privileging of parts I see reflections of Irigaray’s respect for difference and dialectical creation. Indeed, one can easily see themes of fluidity and multiplicity running through the work of the theorists we have examined. This thematic/analytical consistency, I would argue, is at least partially explained by their active engagement in the complexity of romantic love. How not to theorise subjectivities formed via narratives of romantic love in a manner that resists dualisms when romantic love itself overflows with multiplicities? This is not, of course, to downplay the role of other factors, contingencies, and motivations. Still, that some feminists are critical of certain aspects of Foucauldian theory (his failure to adequately account for unequal power relations; his seeming denial that one group or class may dominate another) strikes me as directly related to issues located (if not exclusively) within the contemporary concept of romantic love (see Hartsock; Ramazanoğlu; Sedgwick). That such is the case is, for me, no surprise. Ultimately, in spite of its long history of repression and inequity, romantic love’s ever-increasing complexity points to possible future transformations (as Giddens details). My optimism stems from the fact that romantic love’s productive force can potentially open up whole new ranges of (complex) possibilities. In the theories of Giddens, Deleuze, Irigaray, Grosz, and numerous others, we witness some of these emerging possibilities. Framing complex as an outcome that produces other complex outcomes allows me to envision the possibility of even more possibilities—something akin to Irigaray’s “expanding universe” (This 209). In the final (for now) analysis, let us follow Grosz’s lead and privilege parts over the whole. Viewed from this perspective, a given system cannot be considered as a complex thing, as though it were an isolated singularity. Focusing on the specific, the particular, and the concrete serves to highlight the contingencies, fragments, flows, shifts, multiplicities, instabilities, and relations that constitute and produce the complex. In saying this, I am not simply asserting a tautology: the complex is complex. Because the components of something complex interact in ways both provisional and productive, the complex must inevitably produce new components, parts that constitute and change the system, as well as other parts that eventually form and/or alter other complex systems. Put another way, the individual parts of a complex are themselves complex. Consequently, a deeper understanding can be gained by stepping back and re-visioning the parts-to-the-whole paradigm as complexoutcomes-ofcomplex-outcomes. Romantic love, I believe, is such an example, and an especially ubiquitous and influential one at that. Only by beginning with an understanding of love as complex can we adequately explain how it operates and produces the kinds of effects that it does. Nothing simple could produce such profoundly complex effects as identities, discourses, and material objects. Something simple may very well produce simple outcomes that eventually conjoin into something complex, a whole composed of many individual parts. But only something already complex (i.e., an existing outcome of outcomes) can produce complex outcomes instantly and automatically as a matter of course in an intricate unfolding of relationships that, like love, circulate, bond, motivate, and potentially transform. References Ackerman, Diane. A Natural History of Love. New York: Random House, 1994. Carson, Anne. Eros the Bittersweet: An Essay. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1986. Coontz, Stephanie. Marriage, a History: From Obedience to Intimacy, or How Love Conquered Marriage. New York: Viking, 2005. Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. 1972. Trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1983. ———. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. 1980. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1987. Fink, Bruce. The Lacanian Subject: Between Language and Jouissance. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1995. Giddens, Anthony. The Transformation of Intimacy: Sexuality, Love and Eroticism in Modern Societies. Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, 1992. Grosz, Elizabeth. “Refiguring Lesbian Desire.” The Lesbian Postmodern. Ed. Laura Doan. New York: Columbia UP, 1994. 67-84. Hartsock, Nancy. “Foucault on Power: A Theory for Women?” Feminism/Postmodernism. Ed. Linda J. Nicholson. New York: Routledge, 1990. 157-175. Hegel, G. W. F. The Phenomenology of Mind. Trans. J. B. Baillie. New York: Harper, 1967. Holstein, James A., and Jaber F. Gubrium. The Self We Live By: Narrating Identity in a Postmodern World. New York: Oxford UP, 2000. Irigaray, Luce. I Love to You: Sketch of a Possible Felicity in History. Trans. Alison Martin. New York: Routledge, 1996. ———. “This Sex Which Is Not One.” 1985. A Reader in Feminist Knowledge. Ed. Sneja Gunew. New York: Routledge, 1991. 204-211. Jerry Maguire. Dir. Cameron Crowe. Columbia/Tristar, 1996. Lacan, Jacques. Écrits: A Selection. 1966. Trans. Alan Sheridan. New York: Norton, 1977. Lorraine, Tamsin. Irigaray and Deleuze: Experiments in Visceral Philosophy. Ithaca, New York: Cornell UP, 1999. Plato. The Symposium and The Phaedrus. Trans. William Cobb. New York: SUNY P, 1993. Ramazanoğlu, Caroline, ed. Up against Foucault: Explorations of Some Tensions between Foucault and Feminism. New York: Routledge, 1993. Rosenwald, George C., and Richard L. Ochberg, eds. Storied Lives: The Cultural Politics of Self-Understanding. New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 1992. Sartre, Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness: An Essay on Phenomenological Ontology. Trans. Hazel E. Barnes. New York: Washington Square Press, 1956. Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. Touching Feeling: Affect, Pedagogy, Performativity. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2003. Singer, Irving. The Nature of Love: Courtly and Romantic. Vol. 2. Chicago: Chicago UP, 1984. ———. The Nature of Love: The Modern World. Vol. 3. Chicago: Chicago UP, 1987. Streisand, Barbra. “People.” By Bob Merrill and Jule Styne. People. Columbia, 1964. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Carpenter, Richard. "The Heart of the Matter: Complex as Productive Force." M/C Journal 10.3 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0706/02-carpenter.php>. APA Style Carpenter, R. (Jun. 2007) "The Heart of the Matter: Complex as Productive Force," M/C Journal, 10(3). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0706/02-carpenter.php>.

After balaclava-clad Zapatistas seized control of a handful of southern Mexican towns on New Year’s Eve, 1993, and soon after became implicated in the first wide-scale use of the Internet in a warlike scenario, it was thought that the age of postmodern Internet warfare had arrived. However, while the centrality of the Internet to the movement’s relative success evokes romantic images of Zapatista rebels uploading communiqués onto the World Wide Web from remote mountain hideaways, these myths are dispelled when the impoverished living conditions of its indigenous Maya constituents are taken into account. Instead, the Zapatistas’ presence on the Internet is mediated by NGOs and other support groups who electronically publish hand-written Zapatista communiqués. While this paper demonstrates the political utility of information-age communication strategies for localised struggles for cultural autonomy, it is shown that, for the Zapatistas, these strategies work with, rather than against, traditional print culture. The Zapatistas, NGOs and the Internet Soon after the Zapatista uprising began, the New York Times, prompted by the movement’s rapid acquirement of an Internet presence, declared that the world’s first “postmodern revolutionary movement” had appeared in the unlikely location of the southern Mexican state of Chiapas (Burbach 116). Other analyses that investigate the significance of the Internet in the uprising define the EZLN as the world’s “first informational guerrilla movement” (Castells 79), and the “first social netwar” (Ronfeldt et al. 1). After such descriptions were assigned to the EZLN, an image of Zapatista rebels typing e-mails on laptops in remote mountain hideaways featured in many initial media reports. These ideas were still dominating much of the media a year after the uprising when the Mexican President ordered a raid on suspected EZLN hideouts in an attempt to capture the movement’s mestizo spokesperson, Subcomandante Marcos. Media reports at the time claimed that in some of the raids “they found as many computer disks as bullets”. There were also claims that “if Marcos is equipped with a telephone modem and a cellular phone [he could] hook into the Internet [directly] even while on the run, as he is now” (Knudson 509). However, while the Internet contributed significantly to the advance of the EZLN struggle, this romanticised and mythologised imagery is far removed from the material impoverishment that led to the movement’s uprising and which still characterises the lives of its constituents. Indeed, the Marcos that I saw addressing a crowd in the Mexican city of Puebla during the EZLN’s 2001 March for Indigenous Dignity read his speech from an old-tattered notebook—the old-fashioned printed kind, not one from the Toshiba range. He stumbled over some sections, telling the crowd that it had been smudged by the rain earlier in the day. This may have been a move calculated to enhance the charismatic appeal of the pipe-smoking, poet-guerrilla, but it is also consistent with the impoverished circumstances from which the Zapatistas emanated and within which they continue to struggle. There is a glaring anomaly between descriptions of the Zapatistas as postmodern or as the initiators of informational guerrilla warfare, or netwar, and the movement’s location in the most remote regions of an impoverished state, which has Internet hubs in only two of its towns and “no telephone or electricity at all in most of the rural areas” (Froehling 291). Indeed, the Zapatistas’ relationship with the Internet is mediated via a support network that, most significantly, includes NGOs. For the Zapatista word to reach a national and international audience the movement had to firstly rely on hand-written documents and old-fashioned means of covert communication whereby messages were passed secretly from hand to hand, galloped inside a saddle satchel, hidden in a cyclist’s bag, slipped into a backpack, or perhaps thrust inside a sack of beans, then propped in the back of an open truck, crammed with indigenous villagers who make the hours-long journey to the closest market, or doctor, and our messenger to a contact person with Internet access. (Ponce de León xxiii) The journey of the EZLN’s communiqués from the remote Chiapan highlands to a world-wide audience via its Internet-connected support network has created what Cleaver calls a “Zapatista effect” (1998). This effect demonstrates that by establishing an international electronic web of support, particularly between marginalised groups and NGOs, dominant political, economic and social policies can be effectively opposed and alternatives articulated. The Zapatista uprising marks the first time that the electronic media have been used as a strategy in their own right, producing “an electronic fabric of opposition to much wider policies”, rather than simply facilitating the “traditional work of solidarity” (Cleaver 622). Cleaver claims that this “Zapatista effect” has the potential to permeate and inform social struggles throughout the world and reweave “the fabric of politics” by demonstrating the ability of grassroots movements to form national and international collectives to challenge the power of the nation-state (637). Investigation into the usefulness of new communication technologies in times of war and struggle has also been the focus of studies conducted for the US army, leading to the development of the concept of “netwar” (Ronfeldt et al. iii). Ronfeldt et al. contend that, as a result of what they claim is the increasing dependency of contemporary society on information, “more than ever before, conflicts are about ‘knowledge’—about who knows (or can be kept from knowing) what, when, where, and why” (7-8). The study concludes that the EZLN’s development of an NGO support network that could rapidly disseminate reports on human rights abuses, information about the intolerable living conditions endured by indigenous Chiapans, and the EZLN’s communiqués has been crucial to developing the movement’s support base. However, the movement’s establishment of an electronically wired NGO support network able to circulate information about the EZLN, its struggle and its aims relies on the movement’s ability to convey information to them, the “what, when, where, and why”, before it can appear on the Internet and in other media forms. It is not simply the publication and distribution of figures relating to disease, impoverishment and human rights violations that have contributed to people’s interest in, and support for, the Zapatistas. Rather, the intriguing content and style of their discourse, which is heavily indebted to the charismatic figure of Subcomandante Marcos, has also played a crucial role. The writings of Marcos are rich with poetic imagery, humour, symbols of Mayan mythology and references to Latin American and Spanish literary figures and styles, particularly magic realism. Zapatista Narratives Marcos’ innovative and engaging discursive style is particularly evident in the stories he tells of Don Durito, a beetle named Nebuchadnezzar who has assumed the nom de guerre of Durito, which literally means the little strong or hard one, a reference to his shell, fighting spirit and his status as a ladies’ man (Subcomandante Marcos 9). Don Durito has made the floor of the Southern Mexican Lacandón jungle his home, but in Marcos’s stories he often travels the world as a knight-errant, reminiscent of Cervantes’s delusional do-gooder Don Quijote. Durito also intermittently assumes the role of a detective and that of a political analyst, and it is in this guise that he first meets Marcos. This occurs when Marcos, unable to find tobacco to fill the pipe he is never seen without, notices a trail of the dried black leaves weaving away from his hammock. After following the trail for a few metres Marcos sees, behind a stone, a bespectacled beetle clenching a tiny pipe, sitting at a tiny desk studying, as we soon discover, neoliberalism “and its strategy of domination for Latin America” (Subcomandante Marcos 12). Marcos, unfazed by the discovery of a literate, smoking beetle is taken aback by his investigation of neoliberalism. Durito explains that his scholarly interest is quite pragmatic for it stems from a desire to know how long and how successful the Zapatista struggle will be so as to ascertain “how long us beetles are going to have to be careful that you [Marcos and the other members of the Zapatista army who are based in the jungle] aren’t going to squash us with your big boots” (Subcomandante Marcos 12). In these encounters with Durito the political analyst, Marcos is given lessons in politics and economics from an inhabitant of the jungle floor, from a beetle who recognises that the danger of being squashed by “big boots” in his small patch of land is intimately linked to the global issue of neoliberalism and its much bigger boots. Through these stories, Marcos highlights the detrimental impact that global economic policies have had on the Maya of Chiapas. The character of Durito also enables him to demonstrate the potential for small, seemingly insignificant individuals or groups to radically challenge these policies and articulate alternatives. Conclusion Such entertaining and lyrical prose enables the EZLN to present itself as a new style of social revolutionary movement, far removed from traditional Latin American revolutionary struggles. This has, arguably, broadened the movement’s international support network, a situation facilitated by the circulation and publication of these writings and communiqués on the Internet by the movement’s NGO support network. However, while the use of information-age technology to stimulate the creation of collective transnational support networks presents as a useful strategy for contemporary social struggles, it does not guarantee the procurement of significant political, economic and social change. Indeed, after more than a decade of struggle, the Zapatistas have not precipitated the radical reconstruction of the Mexican political system that they had hoped for. References Burbach, Roger. Globalization and Postmodern Politics: From Zapatistas to High-Tech Robber Barons. London: Pluto Press, 2001. Castells, Manuel. The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture Volume II: The Power of Identity. Malden, Ma.: Blackwell Publishers, 1997. Cleaver, Harry M. Jr. “The Zapatista Effect: The Internet and the Rise of an Alternative Political Fabric.” Journal of International Affairs 51.2 (1998): 621-40. Froehling, Oliver. “The Cyberspace ‘War of Ink and Internet’ in Chiapas, Mexico.” The Geographical Review 87.2 (1997): 291-307. Knudson, Jerry W. “Rebellion in Chiapas: Insurrection by Internet and Public Relations.” Media, Culture and Society 20.3 (1998): 507-18. Ponce de León, Juana. “Editor’s Note: Travelling Back for Tomorrow.” Our Word Is Our Weapon. Ed. Juana Ponce de León. London: Serpent’s Tail, 2001. xxiii-xxxi. Ronfeldt, David, et al. The Zapatista Social Netwar in Mexico. Santa Monica, California: RAND, 1998. Subcomandante Marcos. Don Durito de La Lacandona. San Cristóbal de Las Casas Chiapas: Centro de Información y Análisis de Chiapas, 1999. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Turner, Bethaney. "Information-Age Guerrillas: The Communication Strategies of the Zapatistas." M/C Journal 8.2 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/01-turner.php>. APA Style Turner, B. (Jun. 2005) "Information-Age Guerrillas: The Communication Strategies of the Zapatistas," M/C Journal, 8(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/01-turner.php>.