When we say "Rome fell" is not when any Romans at the time say it fell. Emperors turned into Popes and the Roman empire became the Holy Roman Empire. When we say the USA was over by 1983 (giving us this USSA of today), it's not like a lot of people were making that declaration at the time. History is interpretive (retallable) at best, dogmatic (set in stone) at worst.
Since we're into specific place-based analogies, not "pure" (ahem) abstractions, let's assume the college lecture hall is a safe space for many to imagine. Erasing the chalkboard to make room for the next set of markings is hardly a radical act. It's expected. Routine. There's an example of "deterritorialization" for y'all. You're able to contemplate such erasure as a sober act, sans any schizo-delirium. No reason to go overboard, or off the deep end, just to skip to a next groove.
I was doing a lot of deterritorialization this last week in fact, helping disc a farmer's field, mowing down mostly dead wildflowers with interspersed living flowers and emerging habitat, especially for voles. The dogs enjoyed hunting down voles, free of charge.
I sat atop a tractor, bouncing along like some portly avatar of Shiva, or so it seemed. From another more capitalist angle, such manicuring of one's fields is considered normative and a way of keeping up one's property's value, in the eyes of one's neighbors and passers-through. The concept of abandonment is not monopolized by any one type of "system" (ecosystem design). Abandoned properties abound, even among the insect kingdom.
But then I don't think it's fair to suggest only capitalists care about maintenance or that managerial functions are somehow exclusively for capitalists to perform. Mark Fisher was quick to point that out. In designing lines of flight from oppressive systems, whatever the label, it's necessary to think in terms of reterritorialization, which inevitably means conserving and preserving, not just being disruptive and/or overturning.
:: deterritorialization ::
