Deleuze, Sartre — escape / confront absurdity?

Deleuze's approach to modern absurdity and resistance offers a nuanced departure from Sartre's existentialism and other philosophies that address absurdity, like those of Camus. While Sartre emphasizes human freedom in the face of an indifferent universe, advocating for self-definition through choices despite existential anguish, Deleuze explores a different kind of escape—a "line of flight" from predefined forms of life. Where Sartre might see responsibility and authenticity as essential to facing the absurd, Deleuze sees potential in embracing ambiguity, becoming, and indeterminacy. This is evident both in his reading of Bartleby and in the more applied context of military theory, as explored by Eyal Weizman.

In the case of Bartleby, Deleuze highlights the character's refusal—"I would prefer not to"—as a subtle yet radical challenge to social order. Bartleby's passive resistance is different from Sartrean revolt; it doesn't declare a stance, nor does it offer an alternative path to self-authenticity. Instead, it creates an empty space, a neutral zone, where structures and meanings break down. This refusal is not a choice in the Sartrean sense but rather a subversive withdrawal from choice itself. Deleuze uses Bartleby to illustrate the possibility of creating an "outside" to systems, a kind of strategic sidestepping that leaves hierarchical power structures unanchored, and thus vulnerable to dissolution.

A collective take on "blank space"

Deleuze's concept of creating an "outside" to systems, as illustrated by Bartleby, offers intriguing insights into how future political systems and frameworks of authority might evolve. Bartleby's passive withdrawal from conventional expectations suggests that resistance to authority might not always come from direct confrontation. Instead, it might arise from strategic inaction or ambiguity, undermining traditional structures by refusing to engage on their terms. This approach challenges the foundational structure of authority: if individuals or groups sidestep the frameworks imposed upon them, they might expose the system's dependency on participation and compliance.

In envisioning a future political landscape shaped by this form of resistance, we might see authority structures increasingly aware of their own fragility. If we imagine Bartleby's "preference not to" scaled up to collective behavior, it might look like large groups of people choosing not to participate fully in systems that rely on their engagement—perhaps a silent opting out of centralized governance, financial systems, or social norms. This "blank space" or ambiguous zone of non-compliance could force institutions to adapt by either acknowledging these absences or attempting to incorporate them. Ironically, the effort to co-opt or regulate this disengagement could turn the blank space into a new framework of control, where inaction itself is anticipated, managed, and possibly commodified.

Future state: anticipate passive resistance

There's an interesting paradox here: while Deleuze sees escape as a liberating line of flight from imposed frameworks, the system might adapt by creating new boundaries or rules that integrate or "smooth out" even non-participation. We're already seeing hints of this in areas like surveillance capitalism, where personal data is gathered even when people are not actively contributing, or in financial systems that benefit from passive investments rather than active trading. This "capture" of passive or disengaged behavior could become a kind of new authority—one that, unlike traditional hierarchical power, is amorphous, diffuse, and embedded in all facets of life.

Deleuze's vision does illuminate a potential future political system where authority doesn't operate through overt structures but rather through frameworks that accommodate and anticipate passive resistance. Authority could evolve into a "network" that thrives on ambiguity, using algorithms, data, and decentralized control mechanisms to manage populations in ways that don't require clear consent or explicit obedience. In such a system, power would be exercised not by enforcing rules directly but by creating an environment where lines of flight, such as opting out or passive resistance, are anticipated and subsumed back into the system.

This raises questions: can a "blank space" truly exist if every form of non-compliance or ambiguity is anticipated and managed? Or does it simply become part of an ever-expanding network of authority? Deleuze might argue that while lines of flight are always vulnerable to being recaptured, the act of creating new "outsides" remains essential. The future, then, might not be about establishing stable structures but about constant fluidity—where systems of authority must continuously adapt to new forms of evasion, resistance, and ambiguity, and where individuals and groups must find ever-evolving ways to sidestep, rather than confront, power.

This kind of system would be unlike anything we've seen before: it wouldn't demand allegiance or even acknowledgment, yet it would have the capacity to shape lives on a profound level by subtly directing, redirecting, and incorporating all forms of action and inaction. In this vision, the political frame of the future is a living system—an authority without center or clear boundaries, always adjusting to the lines of flight that move against it, thus maintaining a dynamic balance between control and liberation.

Detachment on an individual level

Coming back to this passive resistance at an individual level. I often feel this sense of detachment, where it's hard to tell if my aspirations are truly mine or just shaped by imposed frameworks. Aspirations are social, after all—without these structures, one might lose sense of direction. Who is my audience? Who would consume my dreams?

This struggle highlights an essential paradox: while frameworks can feel restrictive or even alienating, they also provide context, a sense of direction, and an audience for our ambitions. They shape the "who" and "why" of our aspirations, giving our dreams a place to land, be recognized, and feel valuable.

Aspirations are inherently social—they seek validation, meaning, or connection in the eyes of others. This doesn't mean they're any less personal or authentic; it simply reflects that we find meaning through the eyes of a culture, or even an imagined future audience. But when these social frameworks start to feel hollow, it's natural to question: Are these truly my dreams, or are they just responses to external demands? And if I withdraw, who am I aspiring for, if not for the acknowledgment or companionship of others?