The theoretical and experimental writing that Avital Ronell offers in Crack Wars. Literature, Addiction, Mania (1992) seeks for the juncture where literature, addiction and mania cover and uncover their respectively scars. That is, Ronell seeks to describe the process of intoxication, “a method of mental labour that is respoinsible for making phantoms appear” (5), that sustains literature, addiction, mania and even politics. What is the force that moves addiction? Is it melancholia? Is it a trauma? A hunger? From fragments and aphorism, to installations and nano installations where philosophical characters perform virtuous discussions about “being-on-drugs” —that is addiction for Ronell— Crack wars weaves a philosophical exploration of Heideggerian Dasein in relation to addiction, that minimal difference that changes the whole structure of care in Dasein (35) and an exploration of addiction and mania in Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary.
Narcoanalysis, one of Ronell’s main proposals, is less a traditional approach to texts and more a repetition (or recreation) of the differences that make literature addictive on its own. The analysis Ronell builds want to expose literature. Crack Wars is not interested in the way literature represents, because “literature is most exposed when it stops representing, that is, when it ceases veiling itself with the excess that we commonly call meaning” (57). When meaning stops, it becomes clearer how does literature veils and unveils its wound. Here is where addiction meets literature since both are a matter of an “ultimate outside but they explore fractal interiorities” (15). This means, that both depend entirely on Dasein’s totality of care. However, as Ronell rightly points out, as much as Heidegger expels addiction from Dasein’s care, Dasein seeks addiction as care itself when desire and need blurry between each other.
You can only be addicted to what is available, which is what traps you in a circle without futurity: you’re stuck Being-already-alongside and when Dasein needs a fix as it falls it lets itself be lived by whatever world it is in. Thus Being-ahead-of-onself, which nonetheless had a temporal and necessary advantage, lapses into a ‘just-always-already-alongside’ —an ontological way of saying “going nowhere fast”, except that the pace is slowed down because Dasein has been sped up only to fall behind (42)
This means that Dasein has always already committed a bad action, that Dasein grew in bad habits and because the anxiety is always haunted by addictions, these would block anxiety’s pure emergence. Dasein, for Ronell, puts us with the urgency of ethics, “if one can decide for destruction, and if this possibility is inscribed in the very Being of existence, does not such a decision also destroy decision in its existentiell essence?” (46). To that extend, the question of literature and mania, specially exemplified in Madame Bovary, could utter in favor for a suspension of decision, for existentiell essence to take off from the wretched lands of addiction.
Is it possible to expel addiction from Dasein? William Burroughs famously popularized the expression “cold turkey” when describing the symptoms of withdrawal of an addict. Ronell connects this figure with Emma Bovary’s father, who sends a turkey after Charles’ successful recovery from an accident. The cold turkey, then, becomes that which demands to be eaten but won’t satisfy the body’s appetite. In fact, withdrawal both as a physical and psychological reaction when stop consuming (drugs) signals to how the problem of “hunger and appetite” has not been resolved at all. That is why literature, addiction and mania, as things and tendencies that do not feed but trigger affects to other bodies are so intermingled. Addiction, seems after reading Ronell’s installations, would hardly be expelled from Dasein. As Plato failed expelling the poets from his Republica, so did Heidegger with addiction. Sobriety appears as the balanced point since only from this perspective need and desire are separated from each other. Yet, in our current times, we all share Emma’s condition. Living in a world where “the law of the father was [is] out of working order” (146) we, as Emma, are not able to “abide deferral or denial” our addiction(s). Our world has become a long list of the parables of addictions and additions (positive addictions) in the shadow of never-ending accumulation cycles of capital. Yet, living without the law of the father does not mean demanding the return of it. We do, however wonder, if a father without rule is possible, or if other rules are there to be followed, those precisely are the questions of our days, our addictive paradigm.