A search for the becom(mon)ing of a ‘we’ in academia.

Text: Juliana Könning

The first week of April, I got a happy message. 

Previously, on a sunny afternoon, we had enjoyed a conversation at the Kattenburgerplein. She had a tattoo on her arm of a mushroom and a plant and their shared underground network. The conversation landed on the botanical term rhizome, the network of interconnected roots that spread out under the ground. The rhizome has the amazing ability to inspire a nonlinear and decentred way of thinking about connectivity. 

We, both academics, 

talked about the desire to do research in a more fluid way, fantasized about what fluidity in research could look like, and wondered to what extent we could maintain fluidity within an academic setting. 

We talked about assemblage thinking and how the rhizome offers support, as a tangible ally for such thinking processes. 

In the text message, she asked if I could share some more about assemblages, the rhizome and rhizomatic thinking. I wrote to her:

I have never been completely comfortable with using the word ‘assemblage’, let alone to actually apply this frame in its majestic entirety. One of the discomforts arises when I try to write from this perspective, as I believe the process already contains a paradox. Assemblages are “never fixed in time and space”, and in assemblage theory “all materials are viewed as vibrant and in flux”. Writing solidifies impressions of assemblages and in the process, some of the fluidity of assemblages in observation escapes the medium of writing. Also, using ‘I’ in the writing becomes a very selfconscious activity. It undermines the dispersed agencies that have collectively informed the understandings that are communicated. Still, discomfort opens up a space for transformative ruptures and can be extremely illuminating, so I (selfconsciously) guess that a theory that causes discomfort is one that deserves our attention. 

Transforming the academic ‘I’

Despite my consideration of the act of writing as solidifying fluid matters, I wondered: can we explore more experimental expressions in writing collectively? Can we transform the academic ‘I’? 

She responded that she recently had the same thought: that writing solidifies fluidities. I experienced the familiar jolt of joy that comes from commonality, when I read her message. She told me she wanted to delve into the ‘I’ in writing, and its problems. Disliking the ‘I’, she found herself using ‘one’ a lot, but that did not sit completely right with her either. Using ‘one’, she said, could leave the impression of speaking about universal truths. So… where do we (she and I, and …?) go from here?  

A problematic ‘we’

For a long time, I have had a desire to write from a we-perspective. However, in academic work I am wary of this style. Who are the ‘we’ in this case? Who are not part of the ‘we’? If the described ‘we’-experience is culturally definite without being defined, ‘we’-ing can quickly become an exclusionary practice. The ‘we’ often refers to western academics: how ‘we’ make sense of something, with the ‘we’ being (often without my realising it) me and some unidentified western others. An unidentified ‘we’ can be eurocentric, or centred around scientific thinking. ‘We’, then, have to be suspicious of the ‘we’ we refer to when using ‘we’.

A ‘we’ in solidarity

The question of ‘we’ also came up during a seminar for the course Field Theory, when thinking about ‘how can we define the archive’. Someone asked “Who is we?”. Our guest speaker, Rahael Mathews, had the compelling hunch that ‘we’ has to do with solidarity. She gave us a glimpse: “‘We’ is a way of thinking with others (human and nonhuman), we can be anyone, but it is a way of thinking that is more collective”. The becoming of a we felt almost within reach. A search of this collective thinking about we, brought me to an art collective explaining their ‘we’.

And a ‘we’ as being-in-common 

The temporary art collective ‘We don’t want to be stars (but parts of constellations)’ (2023-2026) uses the terms ‘being-in-common’ and ‘being plural’. They start from the idea of ‘being-in-common’. ‘We don't want to be stars’ explicates how the common “is not defined in terms of identity, instead it describes the work of connection, of collectivity and alliance, between (local) communities, human and nonhuman, that act, build, and create in common”. In their understanding, ‘in-common’ does not refer to a state, but a process of ‘becoming-in-common’. The common is not a resource, but an activity (‘commoning’), that is prerequisite to include both societal and natural relationality. The ‘more than human’ potentiality of this way of thinking about ‘we’ is elucidated on the collective’s website by García-López, Lang, and Singh: 

[C]ommons and commoning offer generative possibilities to see, learn, and experiment with ways of being-in-common with the world that take into account our shared interdependence and vulnerability, and transform our socio-ecological relations in ways that can address our multifaceted contemporary crises.

And being plural

‘Being plural’ is used by the collective to identify their ‘we’ without a clear identity. Even though the concept of ‘being plural’ is not explicitly present in ‘The mushroom at the end of the world’, the art collective quotes Tsing to explain how they consider their ‘we’ as being plural: 

He [Dr. Suzuki] told me about Armillaria root rot, a complex of species in which clear species boundaries may not be relevant. Armillaria root rot spreads across whole forests, stimulating boasts of 'the largest organism in the world.' Differentiating 'individuals' becomes difficult, as these individuals contain many genetic signatures, helping the fungus adapt to new environmental situations. Species are open-ended when even individuals are so molten, so long-lived, and so unwilling to draw lines of reproductive isolation. 'Armillaria root rot is fifty species in one species,' he said; 'it depends on what you are dividing species for'

Through the help of Tsing, the art collective found a way to conceptualize a ‘we’ that does not have to be clearly classified. A ‘we’ that is being plural, gives space for traversing identities. It afforded their ‘we’ to let the projects they do be an active actant in the becoming of a we.

We, the human and nonhuman

As Anna Tsing shows, some encounters with materials, like Armillaria root rot, make rhizomatic thinking feel like the only way – materials that insist on being considered as open-ended and situated gatherings, that do not lend themselves for a mechanical, well-structured analysis. These materials guide us to think more openly, to channel their collectivity and fluidity. Once again, Tsing’s book offers a demonstration: 

The chapters build an open-ended assemblage, not a logical machine; they gesture to the so-much-more out there. They tangle with and interrupt each other– mimicking the patchiness of the world I am trying to describe.

Through our encounters, materials have a way of writing themselves in. Inspired by Tsing, we, a group of girls, decided to study mold for our Field Theory class. One thing we have learned from mold, is that it has / they have a knack for escaping categorization. Similar to Tsings description of root rot, when it comes to molds “[d]ifferentiating ‘individuals’ becomes difficult”. The classificatory difficulty makes it hard to grasp what exactly mold is / are, but also helps letting go of the need for contained understanding. The molds transformed our thought processes (mold molds minds!).

Of course, these written ponderings do not offer a wellrounded view. Hopefully, however, the desire for collectivity is shared by their readers and inspires more ponderings about open-ended becoming.

Reading Recommendations:

A.L. Tsing (2015)

The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the possibility of life in capitalist ruins

WE DON’T WANT TO BE STARS (BUT PARTS OF CONSTELLATIONS).

https://wedontwanttobestars.eu/index.php/en/single-pages/22_ we-parts-of-constellations.

García-López, G. A., Lang, U., & Singh, N. (2021). "Commons, commoning and co-becoming: Nurturing life-in-common and post-capitalist futures (An introduction to the theme issue)"

R.J. Crellin (2017)

"Changing assemblages: vibrant matter in burial assembla- ges"