from “Le Cercle Rouge,” by Michel Servet (pseudonym of Jean-Luc Godard), J’accuse, no 1, 15 January 197l, p. 24. Translated by Louis-Georges Schwartz:

Clearly, those who work for the beautiful newspapers only present a few notes from all the music of the workers. Not more. They cut the workers’ discourse into little bits exactly the way a butcher cuts up a lamb that never did him any harm. Journalists are generally sincere, especially those on the left. Yes, this isn’t the question. And if they cut what comes out of workers’ mouths into little bits, it’s to make what the workers say live, but, in fact, one must see that they end up killing the guys by printing them in that way—in little pieces, without thinking. And on the right as on the left, in the beautiful newspapers, you have a lot of little notes, but never the whole music. Full of living bits of sentences: life is hard, unemployment is on the rise, the government is a bitch, we are sick of it, we won’t cede anything. And it’s true that there is still some blood in these little bits of thought. All warm at first, when the civil war between Capital and Labor takes them from the big, bleeding social body. And then all cold upon delivery, when the pages leave the presses. All cold because the printed bit is no longer linked to the other bits. Instead, it is separated from the real body, from real thought. That is to say, separated from the thought that assembled all the pieces and made them hold together—made them resist together. In fact, you killed the guys you were talking about by proceeding that way. Every day, France-Soir and television finishes off the millions of workers that capital maims in factories.

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