When Deleuze started to write, in the years immediately after World War II, the French intellectual terrain was divided into camps: on one side the human sciences presented themselves as a type of knowledge which would make philosophy redundant, on the other, a highly scholarly but purely historical discourse on philosophy relegated it to the museum. Both thus equally supposed the death of philosophy as creative thought. More generally, hopes for a true intellectual renaissance in the wake of the Liberation had been crushed. Apart from important but marginal thinkers such as Sartre,4 of course, but also, later on, Gilbert Simondon, or Raymond Ruyer for instance, nothing new seemed possible within the dominant philosophical production. An atmosphere particularly stale to a philosopher who said, retrospectively, that he had always opposed (naively even) the idea of the end of philosophy as a creative activity, judging creative thought to be, on the contrary, more urgent than ever. [download]
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