psychopathology

The Discovery Of A Malign Host: Anxiety and Work

Written by Federico Campagna, 26.06.2014
Apollonio di Giovanni, Ulysses and Nausicaa, 1435
 
Notes for a talk at South London Gallery, 20th June 2014, as part of Anxiety Festival
 
I would like to discuss anxiety and its relationship with work today, from a philosophical perspective. I will examine anxiety as connected to the problem of hospitality, and particularly to broken hospitality, then I will explore the changes that the traditional concept of hospitality has undergone under the current condition of Nihilism. It will be in the field of Nihilism that I will explore the connections between anxiety and contemporary work. Finally, I will try to look for a philosophical alternative.
Before starting, I must acknowledge two debts. Most of the first part of this talk derives from a conversation I had with my friend and fellow writer Robert Prouse, whom I would like to thank. The final part of this talk, on the other hand, has been very influenced by the poet Lucy Mercer, and I would like to thank her for that.
 

Triage Unit, Lewisham Hospital Psychiatric Observation Ward/ Schadenfreude

Written by Nathan Witt, 18.02.2013
We present a text that has been brought to us by Nathan Witt, as part of an on-going conversation on psychopathology, nature and suicide. Others authors included in the conversation so far have been Franco Berardi Bifo, Federico Campagna, Paolo Mossetti and Oana Parvan.
 
 
Notes:
 
7 days is the standard monitoring duration before they determine the course of treatment for the patient.
 
Description of the unit.
 
Lift> Hallway> Reception> Decompression/ Containment/ Screening> Main eating area and table tennis table> Kitchen to left> Laundry room to the right> Shared toilet> TV room to the right, off the main eating area> Quiet room on left> Followed by art room>Medication room on right> Followed by assessment room> Shower on same side> At end of hallway of all the rooms is the reception that faces you as you walk through these rooms. To the left of the reception are the female rooms and to the right is a sofa, waiting area followed by the mens rooms. On the right of the hallway is a unisex shower/ toilet and then the dorm rooms start, at the end of the corridor of the mens ward is the staff room. Most of the shouting comes from the women’s side.
 

Suicidio e Lotta

Written by Paolo Mossetti, 08.10.2012
Congedarsi dalla lotta: il suicidio nell’antropologia politica.
 
Si parla molto di suicidio, di questi tempi. Sembra che il corpo del suicida sia tra i pochi elementi, nella narrazione della crisi attuale, capaci di scalfire la criminale impeccabilità del potere. Il corpo del suicida e’ esibito, sfruttato, sballottato, impiegato come metafora, come arma emotiva e fisica. Di fronte alla sofferenza di milioni le leggi non si piegano, ma di fronte al gesto suicidario si fermano i carri armati.
 
Si è popolato di gesti suicidi l’immaginario degli ultimi vent’anni, a partire da quei corpi che precipitavano dalle Torri Gemelle in fiamme, e subito dopo la sequenza infinita di attacchi kamikaze in Iraq e Afghanistan – attacchi, va detto, che hanno causato più morti tra le file dell’esercito USA che le azioni di combattimento vere e proprie. È stata poi l’autocombustione di Mohamed Bouazizi  a scatenare la rivolta in Tunisia l’anno scorso,  e non certo il passaparola su Twitter o Facebook – come invece hanno tentato di farci credere i giornalisti occidentali. E sono gli atti suicidari delle vittime della crisi finanziaria a conquistare, forse più delle proteste di massa, le pagine dei quotidiani d’Occidente.
 

To Do and Do Not

Written by Federico Campagna, 20.02.2012
Stuff
 
The supposed invasion of the being by the having has been a recurrent theme throughout the history of Western civilization. Long before the advent of capitalism, one’s material possessions and social status in the community were already deeply intertwined. It was not by accident that the mention of a king in the pages of the Iliad was often followed by the endless list of his possessions, as if the number of sheep and pigs one possessed helped in some way to express the personality of the individual.
 
As time went by, the crass simplicity of the lists of the Iliad, turned into a more sophisticated catalogue of belongings. As already noted by Suetonius, first, and by Sallust later, at the time of the Roman empire fashion had already entered the equation of material wealth and social subjectivity. Above a certain threshold of wealth, It wasn’t just the sheer amount of stuff that one owned that was used to define his (rarely her) social status, but it was what he owned. His possessions did not simply have to be opulent and abundant – they also had to be filtered by the whims of fashion.
 
This trend proved unstoppable even during the so-called dark ages, and when private wealth could not keep pace with a minimum level of sophistication, the Church stepped in by prodigally investing in the assertion of its hegemony over fashion. If, out of laziness, we did not want to look back to those remote times for proof, we would simply have to look at the obsession for fashionable opulence of the current Pope, Benedictus XVI, rightly considered by many as the reincarnation of a medieval Pope in present times.
 

The Lotus Eaters

Written by Federico Campagna, 03.02.2012

"I was driven thence by foul winds for a space of nine days upon the sea, but on the tenth day we reached the land of the Lotus-eaters, who live on a food that comes from a kind of flower. Here we landed to take in fresh water, and our crews got their mid-day meal on the shore near the ships. When they had eaten and drunk I sent two of my company to see what manner of men the people of the place might be, and they had a third man under them. They started at once, and went about among the Lotus-Eaters, who did them no hurt, but gave them to eat of the lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them, but were for staying and munching lotus with the Lotus-eaters without thinking further of their return; nevertheless, though they wept bitterly I forced them back to the ships and made them fast under the benches. Then I told the rest to go on board at once, lest any of them should taste of the lotus and leave off wanting to get home, so they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars."
Odyssey, IX

The sun stops half way through its descent towards the abyss. He wonders where it will go, as he moves his eyes away from the dark horizon. Beyond it, somewhere in the night, his comrades are still rowing through the uncharted sea. By now, if everything had gone according to plan, they should have approached the island... The island... Which island? It was home, long ago, but now he can’t even remember its name. Doulos slips a finger between his belt and the cloth he has around his waist. Carefully, he extracts one soft, fleshy petal. He puts it on his lower lip, and with his tongue he moves it inside his mouth, feeling its smooth surface turning thicker, then slowly dissolving. When he first tried the flowers, the overwhelming sweetness coated his tongue, and it was only out of courtesy for his kind hosts that he had kept on chewing. But now, so many flowers later, now that nothing distinguishes him form his hosts, now... Now... Oh, it’s gone. That thought is gone. No point in chasing it. And his comrades, yes. His comrades at home, wherever it is. But they are not at home, he knows it. Without proof, he knows it for sure.

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