CRACK CAPITALISM

eyond. It is the revolt of the creative doing that exists against
alien determination and pushes beyond, towards social selfdetermination.
But creative doing is not just creation of that
which exists outside us, but self-creation, creation of our own
sexuality, our own culture, our own thinking and feeling.
The return of the repressed is not just of the consciously
repressed, but of the repressed unconscious. The shadowy
figure behind the mask is not only invisible and inaudible,23
but also, in part at least, unconscious. We do not know our
own repressed potential. The drive of anti-identity is a constant
movement beyond the concept, it constantly goes beyond our
conscious knowledge.
Revolutionary theory and practice, then, cannot be thought
of in terms of the bringing of consciousness to people (or to
the working class). Nor does it make sense to think of the
limits of political action in terms of people's consciousness.
Our consciousness is highly contradictory, a multiplicity of
knowledges, of vague awarenesses, of intuitions and reactionsagainst.
The politics of bringing consciousness is part of the
world of character masks, the world of identities. The drive of
our shadowy figure (a scream, a question, a crisis, a menace,
a potential, a we, a flow) against the character mask cannot
be understood in terms of the bringing of consciousness. It is
much more a question of drawing out that which is already
present in repressed and contradictory form. The task is like that
of the psychoanalyst who tries to make conscious that which
is unconscious and repressed. But there is no psychoanalyst
standing outside the subject: the 'psychoanalysis' can only be a
collective self-analysis. The only therapy possible is self-therapy.
This implies a politics not of talking, but of listening, or, better,
of talking-listening. The revolutionary process is a collective
coming-to-eruption of stifled volcanoes. The language and
thought of revolution cannot be a prose which sees volcanoes
as mountains: it is necessarily a poetry which understands
mountains as volcanoes, an imagination which reaches out
towards unseen passions, unseen capacities, unseen knowledges
and powers-to-do, unseen dignities. This is a dialogical politics
rather than the monological talking-politics of the traditional
revolutionary movement. But it is more than that, for a dialogue
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