Kapital and Image Production

Capital and the Trace

“The nature of such wants, whether, for instance, they spring from the stomach or from fancy, makes no difference. Neither are we here concerned to know how the object satisfies these wants.”

Marx, Das Kapital

“We are bored when we don’t know what we are waiting for.”

Benjamin, The Arcades Project

1. Wealth addresses itself to an immense accumulation of want, its unit being a single desire. Our investigation must therefore begin with the analysis of desires.
2. A desire, whatever its concrete existence, haunts an external object, but desire itself remains more real than its object. Firstly, the nature of this object, whether concrete or abstract, makes no difference—desire haunts thirst, hunger, and the longing for meaning alike. Secondly, the object needn’t even be known specifically. Thus, through settling smoke, I mumble, “I guess I just don’t know what I want.” I state implicitly, “I want… something, but damn me if I know what.” I know desire implies an object, but still I only know desire itself as concrete and infer the object from it. The phenomenon of desire, alone, and not its object, necessarily encounters the desiring consciousness.
3. All the same, though opaque desires may guide choices, consummation of desire relies on concrete objects. As wealth can address desire only insofar as it promises consummation, desire must haunt a concrete object for that object to become a unit of wealth. Wealth, then, inhabits the intersection of desire and the saleable. In particular, produced wealth occasions the desired product of labor—the commodity.
4. But though the commodity is concrete, desire still issues not from its properties but from some subtler source. This fact is manifest in the everyday experience of disappointment: “Man, that RC-car, it wasn’t so great after all. For one thing, the gun-turret was phoney.” Since the concrete nature of the commodity can betray us, our desires issued from a perceived quality of the commodity and not from its actual (saleable) existence. Indeed, opaque desires, in their confusion, can fasten upon an object but still outlive their own supposed consummation: “I guess that truck wasn’t what I really wanted.” But no sooner has wealth betrayed itself than that same desire haunts some fresh object. If one desire can drive man blindly towards qualitatively different objects, desire does not spring from the quality of the object.
5. The production of wealth, then, consists not only in the crystallization of labor into commodity, but the proffering of this commodity to desire; only once want alights upon an object, does the object contribute to a society’s wealth.
6. It may seem paradoxical that wealth characterizes objects later unveiled as worthless, but avoiding this paradox requires uprooting wealth from a basis in subjectivity. We cannot, for instance, define wealth simply as that which actually satisfies a want or desire, since “actually” would privilege a theory of individuals over their self-understandings, without empirical basis. We might try to ground wealth in the individual’s retrospective knowledge of the experience, but then our definition becomes more or less useless to us. After the consummation of a desire, experiences may modify the memory of that consummation; something which truly did satisfy a desire at the time may, months later, lose its color in comparison to a moral turn: “I thought I liked sex but then I was born again… now I realize that my old life was really quite unsatisfying.” Furthermore, something which was neither purchased nor desired, such as the painful knowledge of combat, might afterwards be romanticized. But worst of all, individuals may after consummation change their minds several times, depending on the chance experiences which attended the intervening years. Which of these opinions should be honored as the actual knowledge of wealth? And neither would most of these moments shed light on the essence of wealth, since they involve often not from the productive process but from contingencies in unpredictable lives. Thus, wealth is best grounded in the subjective experience of desire that prompted action, spurred consumption.
7. Unlike use-value, which becomes “a reality only by use or consumption,” wealth as defined by desire is most real in the subject’s hopes for that consumption.
8. Desire alone is known, and wealth issues from it.
9. We began with wealth, only to arrive at desire as its basis—
10. We’ll begin again, stuttering, with desire today.
11. “The desires of those societies in which the capitalist mode of production prevails, fasten themselves to an immense accumulation of commodities.”
12. No, that’s not enough. If desire bears no necessary relation to its object, but can be betrayed, then it must fasten to some intermediary and not to the commodity itself—a “hope” for consumption, not the reality. An image of the commodity constituted by word of mouth, a billboard, a commercial—but not the commodity itself, since desire and wealth part ways after actual consumption. If wealth haunts the moment before consummation, then the commodity as desired never becomes a concrete thing but only an image of the thing as production presented it. The promise upon which our desires can alight, produced in tandem with the commodity itself. This promise may be more or less manifest in the commodity itself, as with the plainest foods, or it may require elaborate preparation; in either case the promise issues from the mechanisms of production.
13. We’ll try again.
14. “The desires of those societies in which the capitalist mode of production prevails, haunt an immense accumulation of images…” “images of consumption”? …“images of commodities”?
15. A commodity is “an object outside us, a thing that by its properties satisfies human wants,” an object produced for consumption. But only the image of this commodity need encounter desire, before purchase. Moreover, it must not be the image as we imagine it, but the concrete image as presented to us by production, the promise that awakens our imagination and desire. Not my hopes for the commodity, which are difficult to distinguish from my desires themselves, but the advertising that prompted them. Not an image imagined, but an image produced, which we may as easily call the commodity’s “promise.”
16. Have we yet departed from the subjective? It might seem that this distinction between the subjective image of the commodity and the produced image of the commodity requires that we step beyond ourselves. After all, we only know this produced image experientially. But, even so, imagination alone couldn’t consider “an object outside us” without that object’s becoming known. If we knew the commodity without learning of it, it couldn’t be an object outside us but would issue from within. We may, then, learn of the object from two mechanisms: society at large, and the mechanisms of its production. But society at large, too, must have known the commodity from these two mechanisms. After enough regression, the mechanisms of production themselves are prime-mover. Ultimately, knowledge of the commodity must begin in direct perceptions of the commodity (if such is possible) or of its image and promise, produced with it. Thus, since the desiring subject knows the commodity’s otherness—this is what makes desire possible— he knows also knows that this knowledge must have arisen from some productive process. In plainer language, consumers know advertising exists and is distinct from their own desires, though it may inspire them. The category of produced image, then, remains well within the subject’s grasp.
17. We’ll try again. “The desires of those societies in which the capitalist mode of production prevails, haunt an immense accumulation of produced images.”
18. Or, in other words,
19. The desires of those societies in which capitalism has seasoned, are haunted by an immense production of images, its unit being a single promise.
20. The commodity demands an exchange, an offering from the fruits of my labor. In this demand, the commodity presents itself as reducible to a common basis as my salary. The commodity, then, introduces itself immediately to me, telling me its name: labor in the abstract.
21. Unlike use-value, exchange-value requires no revision; the basis of exchange as presented in Capital is imminent in the experiences of labor and consumption, for all classes. Even wealthy heirs know their inheritance as the product of labor; at most they mistake whose labor it was.
22. Likewise, knowledge of private property is imminent in the experience of both employer and employee. The laborer feels firsthand the force separating him from the means of production—and the manager knows that, unless he observes the laws of capital, this same force will dispose of him.
23. Finally, the ubiquity of exchange pervades every moment of my existence. Indeed, “wealth… presents itself” as exchangeable commodity.
24. The laws and forces of capital present themselves to subjective experience: Value, private property, exchange. And because capitalist relations operate impersonally and mechanically, these laws present themselves as impersonal and mechanical—that is, truly as laws, and not merely personal histories.
25. Thus, the dynamism of capital follows from propositions which are everywhere experienced directly. The manual to this physics of exchange need not be reproduced here.
26. Desires, defined as momentary phenomena, are not broad categories like “hunger” or “lust,” but are discreet longings experienced in the subjective present.
27. However, desires as such leave little for mass production, which requires masses of predictable desires. Commodities target only a reliable set of categories across subjects and time to which commodities may address themselves: genera of desire. These genera exist as abstractions manifest in the commodity’s mass-nature. Since the objects draw these categories, the genera of desire distinguish themselves from each other by their objects. A single genus of desire encloses all those moments of longing, across subjects and time, which find their object within a more or less specific set of properties. The genus of desire “hunger” finds its object in a set of concrete properties delimited by the strength of the teeth, jaw, stomach, as well as the sensory capabilities of the tongue. The genus of desire “lust” finds its object in a set of concrete properties delimited by the ability of man to sense (pornography must be visible; prostitutes must exist in reality) as well as the range of lusts of men. The more specific genera of desire “craving for sweets” and “lust for woman” bear relations to more severely delimited sets of properties. On the other extreme, the broad genus of desire “desire for fulfillment” means next to nothing in terms of defined sets of properties.
28. Although, broad or specific, all these formulations fall under the definition of genera, not all are immediately useful to mass production. Ordinary commodities answer to sets of properties that rest entirely within the realm of commodity-manufacturing. For instance, the genus of desire “hunger” contains nothing inaccessible to the conquest of production. Likewise, the desires for fashion are meaningless outside of commodity-production. For some genus of desire, every permutation of object within the set of properties can become a commodity. We call this type of genus “Finite desire.” Any longing within the finite type is immediately presented with a commodity.
29. Furthermore, we know that the total range of objects desired in the amalgamation of all finite genera is itself finite. Since the content of each genus relates to a finite set of properties, infinite flexibility could only come from an infinite quantity of non-redundant genera. But if an infinite number of genera existed such that none shared ranges of properties, that would mean that an infinite number of non-redundant ranges of properties were accessible to desire. In other words, to claim that the sum of all finite genera is infinite is to claim that every possible construction of a commodity will meet desire. This is patently false—in my failed artistic career, I certainly created some objects which nobody wanted. Thus, the quantity of non-redundant, finite genera is finite—and, in turn, so is the total range of commodities desired. For the finite genera, potential to absorb production is bounded above.
30. The moments of desire that remain, after subtracting those grouped into genera, form the trace. Some desires, being too ephemeral and aleatory to group across time and individuals according to object, simply cannot be predicted by commodities. But more importantly, some frequent impulses—and here we can only refer to the impulses that caused the desires, not the desires themselves—resist commodity objects. Since, as we will see, image-promises wed these desires to a commodity object, they will at that moment be classifiable only with the finite genus of other desires with similar commodity objects. However, once the consumer consummates that marriage in purchase, if that same impulse continues to create desires, these desires can no longer hunger for that same commodity—no desire and its object can exist at once, since absence underpins all desire. This impulse, returned, creates desires with different objects from the first, which can therefore not be attached to the same commodity. Another promise may again deceive them, but the cause of the desires had nothing to do with the object attained, so the same cause creates them once again, and now they cannot have the same object as either of the previous experiences that the same impulse engendered. Thus, although a single cause accounts for all these desires, in their deception they cannot cohere into any coherent genus of desire. While the whispered promises of commodities distract them from whatever object actually relates to their cause, they appear to the individual purely as incoherent and cannot be related by the definitions provided here within the subject’s experience. Instead, each is a trace—a trace created by the commodity structure. Lacking any rigorous formulation of this “impulse” or “cause,” we merely posit the existence of the trace as counterpart to finite desire, which may or may not be experienced as coherent non-commodity genera, but which, if nothing else, will always strike individual experience as excluded trace despite all improvements in production.
31. The dynamism of production, as related to the finite genera, results in three processes: the cheapening of commodities, the proliferation of commodities, and the reduction of time necessary for consumption.
32. The third of these processes would seem to end in a limit case at zero seconds, that is, the commodity’s total independence from the individual. Generally, though, individuals prefer to involve themselves somewhat in the functioning of their world, so some gesture remains to assure them of their freedom—the button. Besides, without any time for consciousness of satisfaction, the commodity satisfies nothing. The time necessary for pressing a button is generally the limit case for satisfaction of desires. However, the time necessary for purchase should be included, and this, too, will probably not surpass a button in convenience, for the individual’s sake.
33. The second of these processes, the proliferation of commodities, is limited by the time necessary for consumption. Although consumption can reduce to the limit case of a gesture, this gesture partakes of a definite amount of time. The individual’s waking hours, minus the individual’s working hours, can be subdivided into a finite number of gestures—and this quantity is the limit case for the proliferation of commodities.
34. The third process, reduction in exchange-value, assumes grave implications after the consideration of the second process’s limit. Unless the second and third processes can proceed forever (involving unbounded amounts of labor in the streamlining and proliferation of commodities), the first implies crises of overproduction. Because the finite genera are bounded by entirely commoditizable sets of properties, total satisfaction of the finite desire is easily achieved, leaving only time and quantity of satisfactions to absorb the fruits of capitalism’s expansion. Since they’re both bounded above for each genus, and the quantity of genera is also bounded, the finite genera alone cannot stay crises of overproduction. If all desires fit into the finite genera, they would all behave as Marx’s use-values, and capitalism would doom itself without complication.
35. Paradoxically, those desires that resisted the commodity form, the trace alone, offer it salvation. On the one hand, the commodity form won’t conquer them in total satisfaction—if it could, those desires would belong to some finite genera whose sets of possible objects was bounded and the limit case consisted still of mere commodities. This trace manifests itself as unfulfilled longings to the man surrounded only by commodities. If denied whatever non-commodity objects they may seek, these desires still claw into us long after commodities have resolved all the finite genera, and reduced all to gesture and immediate fulfillment. Thus, by promising to fulfill desires it could never fulfill, and which it may, indeed, obstruct, Capitalism can evade crisis.
36. The trace desires of those societies in which capitalism has seasoned, are haunted by an immense production of images. The unit of this haunting remains the promise. Our investigation must therefore begin with the analysis of a promise, which is, in our definition, an object outside us, a produced image that by its properties midwifes fascination and mediates the marriage of desire to commodity.
37. For finite genera, the promise merely consists in an explication of the commodity’s properties, and the relation of those properties to the desire-genera’s set of possible objects.
38. But for the trace, either those sets do not exist, or they contain significant negations of the commodity form that could never be satisfied through it. Thus, appeals to these sets cannot carry those mysterious promises offered up to the trace. In these promises, connection to the actual commodity can wither to a mere glyph—just enough to attach an advertisement a product without implicating any aspects of it in the preceding parade of ape brass-bands, flatulence, and hollow irony. The only essential involvement of the commodity is its identifying mark—generally, a brand. The remainder of this promise’s content merely addresses the trace desires themselves. But how can an image address something so elusive as the trace longings?
39. All promises require three things:
40. 1) The identifying mark of the marketed commodity.
41. 2) Packaging that accords to convention for promises at a given moment, and unrelated incentives to watch that draw the viewer’s attention towards the promise without actually contributing to it.
42. 3) The message to the desire. Because the promise is an image, its whispers to the want must be encoded in sensible elements that signify to consumers the satisfaction of the trace. But these sensible elements, in order to signify satisfaction, must inspire the experience of desire. Some images represent an activity or commodity that piques some desires; in some, the image media represents nothing, but itself attracts some desire. In that case, the elements of the promise itself, being concrete phenomena that attract some desire, are themselves a commodity. Thus, one element of the promise for any commodity is another commodity or its representation, which is also attractive. Alternatively, this representation may concern a non-commodity, un-commoditizable object.
43. For promises directed at the trace, this third element changes significantly. Only three types of signs can address trace desires. A) Likewise, commodities that had been promised as satisfying, and were purchased long ago, can, in nostalgia, promise satisfaction again despite their betrayal. B) Commodities can only disappoint the trace, by the definition of trace desires; still, commodities that had been promised as satisfying to the trace but weren’t yet discovered to be disappointing (that is, weren’t yet purchased). However, the existence of commodities half-invested with desire but still never purchased manifests a failure of the promise—an inefficiency. Thus, as capitalism progresses, this inefficiency must be lessened in order to satisfy the boundless thirst for surplus value. The only remaining form of this fuel for promises lies in the poor—those who witness a promise to some trace desire, but cannot afford the commodity will therefore not be disappointed. That commodity, then, might become part of a promise for some cheaper commodity targeting the same trace in the same poor consumers. The invocation of the too-expensive, though, is an image of the class-system’s negation. Thus, as capitalism proresses, this element becomes a promise to the proletariat that each commodity will overcome the class system and allow him the trace desires that (he thinks) are denied by it. C) For trace desires whose satisfaction is impossible through the commodity but still is some concrete object, such as a type of life or an action, that actual object can operate as sign in the promise even though it is irreconcilable with the actual commodity. Indeed, seeking consummation of the trace desire through the commodity supplants these objects, usurps their place, blocks them. Thus, images of a trace’s natural objects really are images of the commodity form’s negation.
44. We have, then, three fuels. Nostalgia, the past—envy, negation of class, the present—negation of the commodity, the future. All three possible engines of the trace promise rely on forgetting. Nostalgia forgets the disappointment of earlier commodities. Envy forgets that all previous commodity purchases failed to deliver the proletarian consumer from his bonds. Negation of/through the commodity forgets the contradiction between the commodity medium and the denied desires seeking expression.
45. As the stability of capitalism depends on the smooth functioning of trace promises, it also depends on these three repressions of memory. Moreover, because the negative promises self-ironize about just this childish self-delusion, everybody knows that the system requires their forgetfulness, that they are complicit in their own deception.
46. To fight forgetfulness, then, is the role of the revolutionary. But we cannot fight from the position of either pole of the commodity promise, even though revolutionary consciousness itself originates in those promises.
47. A critique from the standpoint of the negatory promise can only consolidate consciousness into a cynical, masochistic, and above all cool structure of faithless purchase without disappointment. The phrase overwhelms the content. Consumerism then solidifies into a gesture without hope, a structure of action capable of absorbing any amount of production precisely because its masochism imbues, in all exchange-value, frigid desire.
48. A critique from the nostalgic promise, likewise, degenerates. Nostalgia, though it may indeed contemn all present commodities, does so in the name of a great mythical past in the same commodity-structure. Though nostalgia might reject consumerism, it can establish only a regime centered on this mythical history of celebrated alienation—it can only establish fascism.
49. The revolutionary must bring the negative content of those promises out of the form of the promise.
50. The commodities themselves have already preached their negation; we need only wrest it from their grasp. Capitalism itself has taught us rebellion; we need learn only revolt.
51. But what enables one to escape forgetfulness, while another succumbs? Not some superman’s will, nor a superior intellect. The answer, simply, almost tautologically, is memory.
52. Some external stimulus confronts the consumer with a pattern of disappointments just at the moment of a fresh promise. The juxtaposition implodes the promise’s structure.
53. A father’s sadness, even behind the wheel of the new Jeep, confronts a daughter, and punctures one commodity’s promise, but not all; a boy’s boredom, even while listening to Rage and sporting a Che shirt, punctures one negation’s promise, but not all.
54. But the words “exchange-value,” “dynamism,” “cataclysm,” “spectacle,” “recuperation,” and the categories found in Marx, Adorno, Benjamin, Debord, once overheard, begin to impose themselves, like all categories, on the sensuous world and the phenomena of capitalism. In the beginning was the word—and when it dwells among us, we see mechanisms of betrayal everywhere were look.
55. When the phenomena of a promise conjures up the category of the promise, memories of previous betrayals follow closely. In being possessed by the category of the promise, no matter what particular pseudonym it takes, our forgetfulness is shattered forever.
56. Some chance is involved in the order¬, in which individuals first collide with the necessary phrases. But after conversion, we see nothing in the commodity’s promise though our searching desires—their traces, at least—burn still, and those desires find their expression in the proclamation of the very gospel that freed them. From there—a virus, a flash-fire.
57. If just a little Word can puncture the entire mechanism of the promise, to which the tentative world of capitalism clings, then the objective truth (whatever that means) of these categories requires little discussion. Even if we reject the modern rationality enabling this treatise, the practical fact of these howls demonstrates the power of the Word, which, true or false, threatens to burn everything to the ground.