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Bewilderingly, forcefully: drawing the line outside.

There is something unsettling about the suicide of Gilles Deleuze, not in a social, historical, or religiously moral sense, judging the act itself, but rather in a philosophical and a singular sense, his suicide in particular, Deleuze's act. It is perhaps troubling specifically to those who think with his philosophy, a philosophy as much of life as for life. The trouble arises immediately from the difficulty in readily assimilating what appears to be an obvious paradox in general--a suicide and a philosophy of life. Nor is one immediately able to resist what seem to be natural impulses of synthesis and identification (not to go as far as interpretation): Deleuze the man and Deleuze the philosopher, Deleuze as an act of death and Deleuze as thought of life. And yet, these are unsynthesizable poles particularly because of the ways in which Deleuze conceptualizes suicide, because of the function or the figure of suicide in his philosophical movements. Unlike Michel Foucault, whose words have been, in one way or another, used to "explain" acts in which he allegedly engaged and have been made to equal a "death drive," (1) Deleuze appears to treat suicide unambiguously and consistently as a failed line of flight, as a botched experiment. Nevertheless, when he invokes Foucault's thought in "A Portrait of Foucault," (2) Deleuze conceptualizes the figure with intensity closely akin to an embrace, though cautious and resistant to its draw. His thinking through the line Outside, through drawing the line, is particularly compelling and illuminating to an inquiry into one of the significant theoretical divergences between the two thinkers, namely their conceptions of desire and pleasure. My essay extends this inquiry not in order to settle but rather to mobilize the figure of suicide as a line of flight, souci de soi, in terms of desire and pleasure. (3) It is rather a movement towards engaging Foucault's and Deleuze's conceptions of suicide through the significance of the notion to their philosophies of living. While it is the drawing of an interlocution, it is also an effort to desubjectify suicide and speak of it, in a way, between Deleuze and Foucault, as a movement, an acceleration, and a techne.

To ask "what is suicide" presents an ontological query that perhaps is not the appropriate approach to the question vis-a-vis Foucault's program. But, literally and conventionally, in terms of common sense, how does one think the concept suicide? More often than not, it finds itself integrated in the medical discourse (though its itinerary meanders through religious and legal discourses), linked with morbidity, clinical depression, despair, renunciation, an obsession or fascination with death or a death-drive, a loss of interest in or value of life, even with a lack of morality. (4) In a variety of ways, James Miller's The Passion of Michel Foucault, considered to be one of the four major biographies of the thinker, (5) seems to both draw and build on these connections, interpreting and deducing Foucault, the subject of his portrait, from shards of thought and fragmented utterances. This approach reinforces the commonplace opposition of suicide to life, a dichotomy that Foucault collapses. Deleuze approaches the "portrait" of Foucault through affects and percepts, experimenting and thinking with, which allows for an opening and a drawing of new plateaus. In the same sense, I seek to let Foucault break "suicide" open, especially by considering his question "How had the subject been compelled to decipher himself in regard to what was forbidden?" (6) It is a question that permits an unfolding of the way in which the line of flight is implicated in suicide, suicide in the "art of life" and both in politics.

In a curious text titled "The Simplest of Pleasures," Foucault envisions a gun store clerk who helps a person select the most apposite style of suicide for them. He commences the text by denying that he would be yet another to debate the making of suicide either legal or moral, but the text seems to both subvert and perhaps on a certain level do just that. The heavy doze of irony and even sarcasm both undermines the expected seriousness of the subject and occludes the telos of the piece: "It's quite inconceivable that we not be given the chance to prepare ourselves with all the passion, intensity and detail that we wish, including the little extras that we've been dreaming about for such a long time, since childhood perhaps or just some warm summer night." (7) While the "little extras" may rouse a chuckle, does not the reference to "childhood" take a quick stab at psychoanalysis, the repressive hypothesis? But, preparation in relation to passion, intensity, and detail makes one pause. Each of these terms on its own bears a significance to Foucault's conception of ethics: "preparation" in the Stoics and "passion" as an event of subjectivization, demarcated by intensities and singularities. Their combination in a text dealing explicitly with suicide inevitably raises the question of the relation of suicide to ethics. "We should consider ourselves lucky to have at hand (with suicide) an extremely unique experience: it's the one which above all the rest deserves the greatest attention-but rather so that you can make of it a fathomless pleasure whose patient and relentless preparation will enlighten all of your life," Foucault continues, suggesting that, though suicide festivals or orgies are possible methods to accomplish this, there are also others "more intricate and learned." (8) The tone of this modest proposal certainly seems to draw the attention, which perhaps explains a number of reductive claims made about Foucault and how it is that his words availed themselves in support of such claims. But the lines of his thought here necessarily implicate his overarching philosophical concerns, especially when looking to the persistence of the notion of "preparation," as a "relentless" and "patient" method that can turn the experience of suicide into an experience of "fathomless pleasure." Experience here is not mental; it is real, augmented by the "you," working its way into the living, whom he is addressing. "Preparation" is of particular significance to Foucault in its Greek form paraskeuazo, "as a set of practices by which one can acquire, assimilate, and transform truth into a permanent principle of action." (9) The nod is towards ascesis, the uncompromising, life-long training of the self by the self, intricate and requiring continuous learning.

Ascesis occupies a central place in Foucault's thought on subjectivization and ethics, and his conception of suicide is inextricably entwined with it. In fact, it sheds light on the critical capacity of ascesis, which Foucault exposes not only in "The Simplest of Pleasures" but in an interview with Robert Bono in which he interrogates the correlation between the social security system and the value of life through the right to suicide. Both in this interview and in the "The Simplest of Pleasures," Foucault addresses humanists or those concerned with human rights, by asking in what ways not having an occasion to suicide with decency is a comment on the systems of relations, social, political, economic, religious. By making the values of the systems of relations and even an episteme visible, suicide reveals an integration of death into an economy of existence as an experience to be avoided at all cost, antithetical to the pleasures of life, ritualized and obliterative. Suicide itself is subjectified, given agency, its force appropriated, integrated by the system through discourse and used as a means of subjectivation. But, Foucault points to ascesis, the culminating exercise of which is the meditation on death, and to suicide as an aspect of the relationship to self.

Significantly, to him, suicide is not a literal pursuit of the experience of pleasure and of death; it is rather a techne, a practice of reflection on death, a lived experience only insofar as thought is concerned which suggests why the moment (of "an opportunity to die free of all stereotypes") "would have the shapeless shape of utterly simple pleasure." (10) As Foucault explains elsewhere, the pleasure of this moment, particularly to the Stoics, was in the finality of death. To Foucault, only happy people can suicide "with forethought, quietly and without wavering" because their happiness is the result of their commitment to making out of death "something fine," perhaps a desubjectified thought, a "petit mort" without measure. Suicide in this sense evokes not a renunciation but a creation of the self in the discernment of the appropriate moment and in the making of a decision affirming their mastery of an art.

Foucault makes the connection between art and suicide in an interview with Werner Schroeter, which Deleuze references in his "A Portrait of Foucault." Importantly, however, although the reference "suicide becomes an art it takes a lifetime to learn" (11) links suicide and art as ethical conduct, Foucault's project is not simply or merely to defend a "right" to suicide but to conceptualize the formless form of a relationship with oneself. His conception of suicide is similar to the way he theorizes silence as "a specific form of experiencing a relationship with others. (12)" Foucault delineates the correlation between the two in an interview with Stephen Riggins in the course of which he laments the loss of silence in his culture; "We don't have a culture of silence. We don't have a culture of suicide either," (13) he says. Silence in his sense is the mode of relating to others that keeps domination in check and power relations mobile. His employment of suicide is analogical to that of silence in that it serves to illustrate the kind of ethical practice that he has been developing in his late work. Like silence, suicide takes the formless form of ultimate pleasure because it is unique, a singularly-shaped (and therefore shapeless universally) relation that fuses ethics and an art in living. Thus, Foucault's words that "the border is often narrow between a permanent temptation to commit suicide and the birth of a certain political consciousness" (14) comes as no surprise. Suicide appears in Foucault as a political thought and a practice of resistance, as a techne of self but, more significantly, as a method of living: sui-cide as souci de soi. It is not a renunciation of the self-which may explain why suicide had historically fallen under the jurisdiction of the state and has been considered an immoral act for centuries, some of the stigma still active-but ascesis, a practice of shedding even a dependence on life.

Why suicide? Because suicide is a cultural model, a readymade, a vehicle of domination, a crime, because in its literal sense it presents a collision between life and death, between what is known to be natural (instincts, nature, etc.), a collision driven by a will. The option of suicide, the option to exercise this will is precisely what guarantees mobile rather than blocked up or frozen power relations; the practice of this option is a tearing away, flight and the condition of resistance. Essentially, suicide makes visible Foucault's conception of the possibility of freedom, of the dependence of power relations on resistance, and it is an occasion for critical inquiry, for philosophy to do what it must, according to Foucault, namely to interrogate the domination of and the limitations imposed on the subject. To choose suicide for Foucault is to exercise one's ability to make what is to Epictetus and the Stoics one of the most significant decisions particularly by discerning the appropriateness of the moment to take action. It is to elect ethical conduct, the experiencing of a relation to one's self not only in thought but actually, as a free agent, as delineated by the Stoics. "The meditation on death," Foucault writes, "is the culmination of all these exercises," (15) an acceptance of death that in the late Stoics becomes a desire for and an acceleration towards the possibility of it. Perhaps this is why Deleuze comments that in Foucault death and suicide become indistinguishable.

Considered as a techne, Deleuze's method of nonpersonal individuation is not vastly different from Foucault's delineation of subjectivization or the training of the self by the self. Both require patience and relentless work, a kind of acceleration or intensified drawing, and a methodical construction. "Ascesis, why not?" Deleuze asks in "Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse," "Ascesis has always been the condition of desire." (16) This specific reference introduces what is perhaps one of the most readily observable distinctions between Foucault and Deleuze, namely the conceptions of pleasure and desire. In an essay regarding this particular divergence, "Desire and Pleasure," Deleuze broaches it first through an anecdote: Foucault's expressed inability to conceive of desire in any way other than as lack, as a relation of domination, and Deleuze's own inability to theorize pleasure as something other than the interruption of desire, as the blockage of productive processes. Pleasure and desire are to Deleuze on the opposite ends of the process of becoming, desire available to a full body without organs, one of his famous formulations for creation and resistance. "Desire is the system of a-signifying signs with which fluxes of the unconscious are produced in a social field," (17) he writes. In this sense desire functions in Deleuze and Guattari's oeuvre as power functions in Foucault's, as a productive force in a system of relations (which is not to say that there are not false desires). Desire is the material that creates resistance to stratificiation. Perhaps just as a drive for domination seems to always be already present in Foucault's conception of power relations, desire is for Deleuze and Guattari "a problem not of ideology, but of pure matter, a phenomenon of physical, biological, psychic, social, or cosmic matter." (18) There is chance in creating the unconscious in which even death is a desire. As Daniel Smith clarifies in "Deleuze and the Question of Desire," as a social formation, desire is always positive, has a positive investment in the arrangement of which it is a part; but it is also of the unconscious and precedes conscious interest.

Yet, to Foucault desire is a problem secondary to pleasure. Drawing on the Greco-Roman conceptions of pleasure and desire, he questions our recognition of ourselves not as agents of pleasure but as subjects of desire and inquires into the problem of pleasure, central to antiquity, as a problem of ethics, as well as of the limitation of pleasure as a relation to oneself. Perhaps because to Foucault it is precisely the problem of pleasure--as an ethical problem and as a political problem, as a problem of the art of living--that is central, suicide and death are inevitably significant as well. If the appropriate moment for suicide can be recognized by its shape of utmost pleasure, Foucault seems to be suggesting, a correlation between the prohibition of pleasure and of suicide on moral grounds (and here the implicit reference pertains to his work with ascesis and the development of Christian practices of self government) becomes visible. This correlation offers a way of grasping the difference between Foucault's treatment of suicide and Deleuze's conception, although Deleuze himself proposes nonpersonal individuation as an art of living, transforming us into agents of desire. In Deleuze there is no moment of attainment of desire, and movement must always be away from an object and a subject; thus, desire as production of thought can never be a meditation on an object, as it is, for instance, on death for the Stoics. Not only does Deleuze propose a perpetual process of creation but he conceives pleasure as personal, and therefore, disallowing the imperceptibility of nonindividual becomings or of life on planes of immanence.

When involved in a successful creative process, life and work become indistinguishable: life no longer personal, the work no longer textual. This is of particular significance regarding Deleuze's approach to writing about Foucault. In "A Portrait of Foucault," Deleuze neither seeks to describe nor (naturally for Deleuze) to explain Foucault the person, but rather, as he himself notes, "to do a portrait of his philosophy," (19) to evoke Foucault by drawing an portrait of his thought. What this process entails for Deleuze is an opening, an acceleration, drawing not as a tracing or overcoding of preexistent lines, not as the capturing of an essence or fitting an essence into readily available models, but drawing as a becoming, as the creation of new concepts and new affects, and drawing even as the drawing of lines of flight. This activity can serve as an example of Deleuze's overarching philosophy of life as experimentation, deterritorialization and depersonalization, creation and resistance along lines of flight on the plane of immanence.

The concept of the line of flight opens Deleuze's philosophy to the force and figure of suicide. As a rapid offshoot, the line of flight does not know what it itself is, has no consciousness of itself, other than all there is in the process of becoming singularities. Lines of flight are tears, not beginnings or ends but always middles-being in the middle of experimentations--accelerations and decelerations, what perhaps Foucault might call technologies of the self. Ultimately, freeing a line of flight is a techne, a technology of nonpersonal individuation in Deleuze, because, as he emphasizes, the danger of the tear, of the acceleration is the worst, death, suicide, which requires careful strategy and gentle movement, a slow destratification or desubjectification and construction: "there is no art that is not also a liberation of life forces, there is not art of death" he says to Claire Parnet in h'abecedair. What is to him an analysis of the unconscious allows one to discern which lines are failing and which "allow something to escape and draw us along," (20) along which lines becoming sustains itself as an opening, as an exit. "The art of dosages," (21) Deleuze and Guattari write, is what ensures a successful becoming: tearing the conscious away from the subject, the unconscious away from significance and interpretation, and the body from the organism; in order to transform them into a means of exploration, a veritable production, and a body without organs, "you invent self-destructions." (22) This last point seems somewhat problematic, considering that to Deleuze lines of flight that fail are the ones that he writes involve self-destruction.

To Deleuze, the failed line of flight is a void, the result of too violent or rapid destratification, a point of self-destruction, a blockage, a black hole (used both as fully stratified existence and as death). It seems as if Deleuze's proposition in terms of lines of flight turning into lines of "abolition, annihilation, self-destruction, Ahab, Ahab ..." (23) is that such becomings are as much the result of the material, the heterogeneities, multiplicities and the relations that comprise their intensity as they are properties of the lines of flight in general. In other words, while all danger is a dimension proper of lines of flight, "inherent in any line that escapes, in any line of flight or creative deterritorialization: the danger of veering toward destruction, toward abolition," (24) destinations are innumerable and unpredictable. But the danger of these lines that we ride "when we think bewilderingly enough or live forcefully enough" (25) must be confronted if affect is to be released, if nonpersonal individuation is to be mobilized. It is precisely the nonpersonal that determines whether a death or a suicide constitutes a failed or a successful line of flight.

A black hole is a personal death, a personal suicide, as much as a personal passion and a personal desire. The failure is of the "I" and it is the condition that determines a suicide a failed line. "One can imagine some of these deaths being peaceful and even happy [...] the extraction of a pure event--at its own time, on its own plane," (26) Deleuze suggests in "Many Politics." This conception audibly resonates with Foucault's seemingly ironic recommendation in "The Simplest Pleasure" to only entrust happy people with a suicide because unhappy people would ruin it. Both thinkers draw suicide as a function of subjectivization and of nonpersonal individuation, and set up the conditions for its success as a limit-experience with the capacity to open new possibilities of life. And both indicate suicide as a need, perhaps the need of the nonhuman, the mutant of whom Deleuze in particular speaks. As Gregg Lambert indicates, "The one who seeks to fold life and death differently from others threatens to become another species or form of life." (27) Of course, Deleuze would note that one does not become but must always be in the process of becoming.

It is important to point out that becoming is not limited to the imagination, just as the training of self by self, to Foucault, is not merely accomplished through imagined situations. They are both real, one through its creation and the other through its action, which is how Deleuze suggests to think of the suicides of writers, through their involutions in unnatural becomings. They are engaged in a real process, dangerous, but the only one capable of mobilizing truth to Foucault and novelty to Deleuze. Perhaps in this lies a significant divergence between the two philosophers as well. To Foucault the intense preparation is an activity that accesses reality and truths in comportment, trains a behavior that predetermines how one will live each experience. It accounts for possibility and not virtuality. Deleuze, on the other hand, is invested in creation, Bergsonian unforeseeable novelty, (28) and experience is in his philosophy experimentation, becoming other than, which allows the other to become as well. It is involution rather than ascesis. According to Smith's "A Life of Pure Immanence," the divergence is also due to Deleuze's conception of life in terms of successful and failed lines of flight as immanent ethics of "good/bad" life. Even when involved in the "good" life, one may end up failing, since one must be able to accelerate, intensify as well as slow down, decelerate. To Foucault such relations are drawn through passion, because passion is to Foucault a relation of intensity. "Passion is a subpersonal event that may last as long as a lifetime," (29) Deleuze says in Negotiations, and it is to passion as an individuation that Foucault appeals. In Foucault's system of thought, passion functions as a line of flight operates in Deleuze: it is an opening, a movement, and an acceleration that creates new possibilities of existence. "Passionate men," Deleuze continues, "die like Captain Ahab, or like the Parsee rather, chasing their whale. They cross the line," and follows it up with "There is something of that in Foucault's death." (30) The utterance is simultaneously a warning, a celebration, a sadness, perhaps even a regret that for Foucault, too, there was further to go than death. It raises the question of the distinction between suicide and death and the part of passion in it, while complicating matters on the level of the lived perhaps to some extent making it possible for "the passion" of Foucault to end up as a portrait instead of "a portrait" that mobilizes a passion (the pronouns subtly symptomatic). Thus, while passion is to Foucault an aspect of a techne of depersonalization, his ethics, resting on the problem of pleasure, to Deleuze it becomes a condition of folding lines of flight.

The following two passages, one by Foucault from "Subjectivity and Truth" and the other by Deleuze and Guattari from "How Do You Make Yourself a Body without Organs?" illustrate the productive ways in which the two technes, as both arts and methods and as ethics resonate, guide, and warn. I have placed them as one sequence deliberately:
 There is in all societies [...] another type of techniques:
 techniques which permit individuals to perform, by their own means,
 a certain number of operations on their bodies, on their own souls,
 on their own thoughts, on their own conduct, and this in such a way
 that they transform themselves, modify themselves, and reach a
 certain state of perfection, of happiness, of purity, of
 supernatural power, and so on. Let's call this kind of techniques a
 techniques or technology of the self. (31)

 This is how it should be done. Lodge yourself on a stratum,
 experiment with the opportunities it offers, find an advantageous
 place on it, find potential movements of deterritorialization,
 possible lines of flight, experience them, produce flow
 conjunctions here and there, try out continuums of intensities
 segment by segment, have a small plot of new land at all times. It
 is through a meticulous relation with the strata that one succeeds
 in freeing lines of flight, causing conjugated flows to pass and
 escape and bringing forth continuous intensities for a BwO. (32)


The passages draw ethical images of living, aesthetics of experimentation, modification, experience. An art of mutation? Yet, both indicate senses of limitation that are different in significant ways. Foucault's "certain number" parallels Deleuze and Guattari's "advantageous place" and "segment by segment" as cautionary notes reverberated; but already the finitude expressed by "certain" points to distinct conceptions. A "certain state" to one appears as a moment of "continuous intensities" in the other. There is no attainment for Deleuze and Guattari, whose arrangement must be open; the line must be drawn to another line and another line, in flux with a multiplicity of lines. It seems as if to Deleuze and Guattari a technology of the self is only successful if it does not cross the line, have an object or attain it (or the attainment is not to attain). In this sense, suicide is only suicide if it is conceptualized as an object and attained as suicide, the object. Death is a failed line of flight only if it closes in upon itself, if there is no flux of lines that continues beyond it. This is why to Deleuze art can defy death, art not as an object but as a techne.

Mihaela P. Harper, University of Rhode Island

(1) James Miller, The Passion of Michel Foucault (New York: Anchor Books, 1993). Miller's biography uses homosexuality, "limit-experiences" (or experiments), and a fascination with death as foci for the construction of Foucault's identity.

(2) Gilles Deleuze, "A Portrait of Foucault," trans. Martin Joughin, Negotiations (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), pp. 102-118.

(3) I hasten to clarify that this work is in no way an attempt to explain Deleuze's suicide and to point out that the desire/pleasure point of contention between his own and Foucault's philosophies was one that Deleuze thought about often. In note 38 to her chapter "Madness and Repetition," from The Delirium of Praise: Bataille, Blanchot, Deleuze, Foucault, Klossowski, Eleanor Kaufman writes that "Deleuze's last written communication to Foucault was primarily a series of detailed notes on Surveillir et punir and LaVolonte de savoir, many of which focus, interestingly enough, on the body, and which highlight the difference between Deleuze's use of 'desire' and Foucault's use of 'pleasure.'"

(4) For an interesting analysis of the relationship between death and desire and the place of suicide in philosophy, religion, and culture see Jonathan Dollimore, "Promiscuity and Death," Death, Desire and Loss in Western Culture (New York, Routledge: 2001).

(5) David Halperin, Saint Foucault: Towards a Gay Hagiography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997); Didier Eribon, Michel Foucault, trans. Betsy Wing (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992); David Macey, The Lives of Michel Foucault (London: Random House, 1993) are the other three bibliographies. Halperin, particularly, critiques Miller's approach.

(6) Michel Foucault, "Technologies of the Self," Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth, ed. Paul Rabinow, trans. Robert Hurley et al (New York: The New Press, 1997), p. 224.

(7) Michel Foucault, "Un plaisir si simple," Le Gai Pied 1 (1979): 10 (2009; repr. "The Simplest of Pleasures," trans. Mike Riegle and Gilles Barbedette, Fag Rag 29.3 30, http://www.generation-online.org/p/fp_foucault13.htm).

(8) Ibid.

(9) Foucault, "Technologies," p. 239.

(10) Foucault, "The Simplest."

(11) Deleuze, "A Portrait," p. 114.

(12) Michel Foucault, "The Minimalist Self," Politics, Philosophy, Culture : interviews and other writings, 1977-1984, ed. Lawrence D. Kritzman, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Routledge, 1990), p. 4.

(13) Michel Foucault, "Michel Foucault: Interview with Stephen Riggins," Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth, ed. Paul Rabinow, trans. Robert Hurley et al (New York: The New Press, 1997), p. 122.

(14) Miller, The Passions, p. 193.

(15) Foucault, "Technologies," p. 241.

(16) Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, "Dead Psychoanalysis: Analyse," Dialogues, trans. Hugh Tomplinson and Barbara Habberjam (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), p. 101.

(17) Ibid., p. 78.

(18) Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2007), p. 165.

(19) Deleuze, "A Portrait," p. 102.

(20) Deleuze, "Dead," p. 102.

(21) Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand, 160.

(22) Ibid. p. 106.

(23) Ibid., p. 250.

(24) Ibid., p. 299.

(25) Deleuze, Negotiations, p. 110.

(26) Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, "Many Politics," Dialogues, trans. Hugh Tomplinson and Barbara Habberjam (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), p. 140.

(27) Gregg Lambert, "Why 'Power Produces Truth as a Problem,'" Who is Afraid of Deleuze and Guattari? (New York: Continuum, 2007), p. 169.

(28) For more information see Gilles Deleuze, Bergsonism, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Barbara Habberjam (New York: Zone Books, 1991), p. 37.

(29) Deleuze, Negotiations, p. 116.

(30) Ibid., p. 111.

(31) Michel Foucault, "Subjectivity and Truth," The Politics of Truth, ed. Sylvere Lotringer, trans. Lysa Hochroth and Catherine Porter (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2007), p. 154.

(32) Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand, p. 161.
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Author:Harper, Mihaela P.
Publication:Journal of Philosophy: A Cross Disciplinary Inquiry
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Date:Mar 22, 2012
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