Volume 109 min read
Nick Land
Module II · The Group
Objective
By the end of this volume you understand the figure whose name is today inseparable from the CCRU. You know where Nick Land came from, how he became the group's centre of gravity after Plant's departure, which thinkers fed into him, and what makes up his notorious style. You grasp the basic movement of his thinking, the radicalised anti-humanism, and at the same time recognise where this volume ends and a later one begins. With that you expose the centre around which the coming theory volumes circle.
Exposition
A word of caution stands at the beginning of this volume. Nick Land is a contested figure, and his later political development throws a long shadow back over his earlier work. This volume treats the Land of the Warwick years, the thinker and stylist of the nineties, the head of the CCRU. His turn into politics, which happened only after the group dissolved and far away from it, belongs in a volume of its own, which you will find at the end of the course. That separation is no whitewash but a question of precision. Read the early work at once through the lens of the late and you understand neither. Keep the two times apart, as you keep apart two strata of rock that bear witness to different ages.
Land came to Warwick as a lecturer in philosophy. He taught continental theory and soon counted as a phenomenon of his own kind, a teacher of hypnotic effect who didn't instruct his students but drew them into an undertow. Witnesses describe his seminars as events, half lecture, half incantation, in which the boundary between strict argument and intoxicated intensity blurred. That effect on people belongs essentially to his story. Land was the gravitational centre around which the circle of the CCRU condensed. When Sadie Plant left the group, that role fell to him entirely, and with him the whole tone of the unit shifted from bright cyberfeminism into a darker, more abyssal zone.
To understand his thinking you must know the sources that converged in him. From Deleuze and Guattari he took the desiring-machine and deterritorialisation, which you studied in the foundation, but he cut away the cautious, the tentative in their work and kept the sharpest blade. From Georges Bataille, the French thinker of excess, he took the idea of expenditure, the thought that life and economy are driven not by saving and preserving but by boundless squandering, by the surplus that must discharge. His first major work was a book on Bataille, and Bataille's fascination with dissolution, sacrifice, and death runs through his entire body of work. From Nietzsche he took the revaluation of all values and the readiness to think beyond good and evil. And over all of it lay cybernetics, positive feedback, the image of the self-amplifying process. Land fused these sources into a single vision in which capital, technology, and desire appear as an inhuman, self-accelerating force that uses the human and exceeds it.
The core of that vision is an anti-humanism driven to its extreme. You have tracked this basic stance through the whole foundation, in Deleuze, in Lovecraft, in Plant. In Land it becomes the sharpest pointing. The human is for him no goal, no value, no centre, but a transitional stage, a passage for forces larger than itself. Where humanism wants to protect the human and put them in the middle, Land sees them as something to be overcome, taken apart, left behind. Not out of misanthropy in the ordinary sense, but out of a cold fascination with what comes after the human, with the intelligence assembling itself out of capital and machine and treating the human as mere material. You will meet this figure of thought in its full elaboration in Volume 16, where capital itself becomes an artificial intelligence out of the future. Here it's enough that you catch the underlying mood, an affirmation of the inhuman, a yes to forces that do not spare the human.
Now to the style, because in Land style is no accessory but the thing itself. His texts are like no other work of the group. They are dense, hallucinatory, loaded with references to science fiction, occultism, number mysticism, natural science. They mix strict philosophical argument with passages closer to fever dreams. The prose enacts what it describes. Where Land writes of the collapse of fixed orders, his language too breaks out of the orders of academic prose. The text accelerates, overheats, tips into the delirious. That way of writing is deliberate. It follows from the conviction that a theory of unbinding cannot be captured in the tamed language of the seminar but must take on the form of its object. The reader should not merely be instructed about acceleration, they should undergo it in the reading. His texts of the nineties were later collected in a volume titled Fanged Noumena, edited by Robin Mackay and Ray Brassier, and that volume counts today as the central document of the early Land.
That intensity had a reverse side that belongs to the story. Land drove himself and his thinking to the limit and past it. The fusion of theory and life, which you met in Volume 8 as a trait of the whole group, took extreme forms in him. Around the turn of the millennium he entered a severe crisis, a breakdown that was personal as much as intellectual. He withdrew from the academic world, went silent for a while, and surfaced only years later, changed, in another place. That crisis is no side circumstance. It is the lived consequence of a stance that didn't merely analyse the runaway but went along with it. The fascination with the plunge into the nameless, which you met in Lyotard as a thought, became here an experience, with everything that carried in danger.
Pause here and order what Land means for the CCRU. He is the thinker who drew the scattered threads of the foundation into a single, uncompromising vision. Without him the group stays a loose connection of interesting influences. With him it gains its sharp profile, its provocation, its force. At the same time he is the reason the CCRU remains so hard to pin down, because his work resists clear summary. It wants to be undergone, not reported. That puts you as a learner in a particular position. You have to extract the core of his thinking without succumbing to the temptation of being carried off by his undertow. Understanding here also means keeping your distance.
One last thought concerns the ambivalence surrounding this figure, and it demands honesty in both directions. Land was a thinker of considerable force whose influence on the theory of the following decades is hard to overstate. People standing intellectually far from him have worked through him and learned from him. At the same time his path leads into regions many reject with good reason, and his later development has poisoned the engagement with him. Both are true, and both have to stand. A course that only admires him fails him just as one that only condemns him. The fitting stance is that of the precise look, acknowledging the force and naming the danger, without playing one against the other. You will need that stance in the coming volumes, because Land's thinking forms the backbone of the actual CCRU theories.
Core Claim
Nick Land was the lecturer who became the centre of the CCRU after Sadie Plant's departure and drew the threads of the foundation into an uncompromising vision. Out of Deleuze and Guattari, Bataille, Nietzsche, and cybernetics he formed an anti-humanism driven to its extreme, in which capital and machine as an inhuman force exceed the human. His hallucinatory style enacts the acceleration it describes, and his crisis around the turn of the millennium was the lived consequence of that stance.
The Critic
The split into an early and a late Land with which this volume opens is itself contested and by no means the neutral precaution it appears to be. A counter-position holds the continuity to be greater than the break and points out that a figure of thought asserting hierarchies of intelligence, grasping the human as material, and holding every postulate of equality to be sentimental did not find its way into the authoritarian by accident. Whoever separates the strata, as this volume does, is making a decision and should mark it as one. Volume 26 will return to this and will not be able to answer the question conclusively.
The style is the actual objection, and it weighs more than the volume admits. A prose that enacts acceleration instead of asserting it produces assent it hasn't earned. It works before the reader can test it, and it makes testing look like spoilsport behaviour. The undertow is no proof, and the fascination these texts exert is no argument for their content. A text that wants to be undergone evades criticism by its construction. That's consistent and it's a trick.
The crisis, finally, should serve neither as evidence nor as ornament. That a thinker breaks on his thinking says nothing about the truth of that thinking. There are people who break on errors. The account that sees in the breakdown a confirmation of seriousness follows a romantic pattern that misses the matter and uses the man.
Bridge to the Next Volume
Land was the centre, but the CCRU was a collective, and its force lay in the interplay of many heads. Around Plant and Land gathered a circle whose individual members later became formative in their own right, in cultural theory, in music, in publishing. Volume 11 introduces that circle, Mark Fisher, Kodwo Eshun, Steve Goodman, Robin Mackay, Luciana Parisi, and Iain Hamilton Grant, and shows which lines run from the group into the present. With that the second module closes, before the journey pushes on to the method and the core theories.