the politics of (bovine) capitalist production.

For post-structuralist philosopher Jacques Derrida in his 1967 Of Grammatology (OG), “there has never been an intermediary between everything and nothing” (157); herein lies the crux of his deconstructive philosophy. This note on method from OG exemplifies the heartless heart of Derrida’s philosophy, despite his continued employment of différance, metonymy and synecdoche to perpetually differ meanings. It is this Nietzschean inability to phrase the abyss between speech and language, or between citations of gender (Butler), or for the later Derrida to phrase language between human and animal, that Derrida likes to play. Derrida’s seminal 1997 “The Animal That Therefore I am” speaks to this deferral of meaning. However, he is now less concerned with speech and language; there is a far greater injustice occurring; he is neither judge, jury or prosecutor; he is the arsonist who burns the courtroom down and writes his law upon the ash. The arsonist Derrida provides a provocative, playful, and deconstructive tracing of the question of what he terms “the animal’s” ontology in the Western philosophical canon. “The animal” can be supplemented for any form of Other; however, in this case, Derrida is talking about how “the animal” is constructed through and by “the human” (5-7). He maintains that “Descartes, Kant, Heidegger, Lacan, and Levinas” have all argued for the great heterogeneous divide between the human and non-human. Derrida instead asserts that “[b]eyond the edge of the so-called human […] there is already a heterogeneous multiplicity of the living” (14&31). Throughout the text, he seeks to rupture the Kantians of phenomena and noumena concerning the human as “an animal endowed with reason” (Kant 204). Derrida’s text plays with ontology, phenomenology, and metaphysics to construct a new canon that considers the animal’s alterity outside the edge of the so-called human.

Through Derrida’s analysis of the metaphysics of presence, Donna J. Haraway, in When Species Meet (2004), extends and praises Derrida’s notion of “actual animals look[ing] back at actual human beings” (19). As quick in praise, Haraway is equally quick to express her disappointment with Derrida and his failure to recognise the actual feelings of his famous cat as what she terms “companion species” (19-20). Derrida, the arsonist, is so concerned with burning down the pages of philosophy that his cat is left abandoned by the embers. Haraway takes us on a beautiful whirlwind that weaves a carefully constructed metatextual mediation on animals simply being “companion species”, not labyrinthine cyphers for us to solve. In the spirit of Haraway’s quick disavowal of Derrida, I equally change my praise into critique, specifically, Haraway’s coinage of the term “companion species”. Both Haraway and Derrida must now join the ranks of Kant and Lacan, as their hierarchical structuring of either “the animot” (Derrida 6) or as a “companion species” neglects the real-world sufferings of billions of non-human animals worldwide; specifically farm animals like cows, pigs, and sheep, who all suffer at the hands of brutalising neoliberal capitalist machine. Therefore, this essay will refer to non-human animals as “dominion species”, or better still “, dominated species”. This is not to say that both Derrida and Haraway do not take careful time to explore the atrocities of the meat-industrial complex. This essay issues the prevalence of the cat’s naked gaze or the dog’s kisses. Consequently, such a preference renders “dominated species” less worthy of affection and alterity, wherein a hierarchical dichotomy of companion and food is constructed. To extend Derrida and Haraway, this essay will employ a DeleuzoGuattarian reading of Andrea Arnold’s 2021 documentary Cow to place becoming-animal in the capitalocene.

When species meat.

There is no question about the reasoning behind the prevalence throughout Haraway’s text and career; they are “man’s best friend”; a medium for cross-speciesism’s empathy and understanding. It speaks to the underlying hierarchical binary present in her term “companion species”: the conflict between domesticated “pet species”[1] and the domesticated agricultural “farm species”; the latter is a “dominated species”. This is not to state that I am ignoring the uncomfortable reality for innumerable canine breeds, take the pug for example, whose face is so tightly wrought and flattened makes it difficult to breathe, eventually leading to their larynx collapsing. Haraway is guilty of ignoring the activities of canine fanciers, as there is little to no mention of the abhorrent actions of dog fanciers. This is problematic as the stratification of dogs into breeds mirrors contemporary and historical divisions of society into class, racial, and gender classes. As Boria Sax notes, the emphasis on pure breeds in tandem with humans has provided an important rationale for Nazism, South African apartheid, and the Indian caste system. The eugenics modelling behind canine breeding has not only led to the rationalisation of extreme political views but also rendered dogs subject to debilitating and severe genetic disorders like the pug mentioned above. Consequently, it is puzzling for me why Haraway seems almost entirely to ignore this, instead focussing on dog training and showing how she views dogs as “companion species”, not as “dominated species”. This essay would like to probe into Haraway’s “companion species” to shed light on the issues of animal suffering that Haraway either willingly or unwillingly ignores.

            Further, I would like to clarify what I interpret as “companion species” and “dominated species”; for me, there is no difference; they are one and the same. As noted above, dogs are victims of human domination but differently from, for example, pigs. Both “companion” and “dominated species” exist on both sides of a binary and as products of neoliberal capitalism:

  1. The “pet” species capitalises on the human desire for companionship; it requires a positive exercise of desire. When the human interacts with a “pet” species, like Haraway’s dog, endorphins are released, sending hormonal machines into overdrive; we create a positive exercise out of this story. Haraway, in her 2003 Companion Species Manifesto, takes the Althusserian term of “interpellation” to situate how it is through “technoculture become[s] who we are in the symbiogenetic tissues of naturecultures, in story and in fact” (16). A companion species is constructed through this interpellation of animals and humans (it takes two to form one) (8). However, these release of endorphins satiate the human with dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin; there is no consideration for the animal, whether that be a pug, bacteria in your duodenum, or a tuna becoming one with the coke bottle you threw into the ocean when you were seven. I do not intend to criticise Haraway insofar that I am rendering her work inconsiderate; this is not the case. I admire her beautifully written and carefully constructed account of what occurs when an animal and human interact on the microscale. I want to expand her term of “companion species” into the macro; just as she critiques Derrida for not considering the actual feelings of animals, I would like to extend her work with “companion species” to explore how animals exist in the capitalosene.
  2. Contrary to the “pet” species, which satiates a neurological and psychological desire for companionship between species, the “farm” or “farmed” species are subjected to a far more brutalising form of desire — the farmed species experiences from womb to mouth, a form of Achille Mbembe’s term necropolitics. The animal is dominated through selective breeding, gene therapy, and epigenetic control from their feed and environment. They are then pulped, extracted, and flattened into pieces of flesh fed from machine to hand then mouth mouth, before the anus as shit. Therefore, it is no wonder that we live in the epoch of the chicken nugget as Jason W. Moore claims (2).

I realise, now that I have fallen into the trap of deferring meaning through my attempts at clarification, so I will reiterate that these two terms are not strictly heterogenous, as one could argue how canine breeding is a form of “farmed” species, just the product is not eaten as meat but as an emotional pharmopsychotheraputic soma. Furthermore, there are innumerable crisscrossing examples that represent both facets of neoliberal animal production, for instance, the existence of petting farms which act as another form of soma, one that furthers the empathetic human gaze away from the abattoir, focusing on cute little micropigs eating grapes in an animal enclosure. The carnivore’s lust is justified behind a façade of cuteness. Haraway makes this distinction clear when she acknowledges the potential limitations of the term “companion species” and how it can be misconstrued as “’ companion animals’” (16), as she states how she

love[s] the fact that human genomes can be found in only about 90 percent of all the cells that occupy the mundane space I call my body; the other 10 percent of the cells are filled with the genomes of bacteria, fungi, protists, and such, some of which play in a symphony necessary to my being alive at all, and some of which are hitching a ride and doing the rest of me, of us, no harm. (Haraway When Species Meet 3-4).

This does not, however, excuse the focus of this book and her Companion Species Manifesto toward the canine as examples of “companion species”. Consequently, if we probe further into “companion species” and employ, as Haraway does, a Derridean etymological tracing of definitions to strengthen our argument. For Haraway, “companion species” is a “less shapely and more rambunctious” term than “companion animals”. Haraway’s defence of the term “companion species” over “companion animal” is understandable given the extract above situates “companion species” as a form of “becoming with” said species; whether it be gut bacteria or a cat, you can kiss each everyday experience is wonderful in its own way (38). Haraway traces “companion” through the Oxford English Dictionary, finding it derives from cum panis or “with bread”, through which a companion is someone one breaks bread; therefore, a “companion species” becomes a political comrade to borrow Marxist or Leninist discourse (17-18). Thus, if we similarly employ a “[g]orging on etymologies” (17), dominion comes from the Latin dominus, “lord, master”, and dominated as a derivative of dominion, subjected to a lord or master. (“dominion” &” dominate”). Given the comradely prescience, “companion” connotes master or lord suggests a legacy of feudalism that weeps into the capitalist epoch. As “companion species”, we are subject to the business ontology of capitalist realism, as Mark Fisher would phrase it. Discarding that last sentence, I would like to focus on the cow as both milk and meat machine as the subject of this essay’s “dominated species”.

Becoming-cow: becoming one with the world and capital.

While Haraway shows both appraisal and criticism for Derrida, she has a particular distaste towards the philosopher and psychiatrist writing duo of Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari (D&G). She specifically criticises the section “1730: Becoming-Intense, Becoming-Animal, Becoming Imperceptible” of the second volume of Capitalism and Schizophrenia, A Thousand Plateaus (1980 TP). TP simultaneously marks a sequel to their earlier work of 1972, Anti-Oedipus, as a response to criticisms surrounding the terms “schizoanalysis” and “desiring-machines” but also as a standalone piece of radical philosophical thought (Massumi). In classic French post-structuralism, they do not use the term chapter, instead opting for rhizomatic nodules to differentiate the book. Therefore, any attempt to summarise a piece of work that resists and avoids summation is a Sisyphean task; however, to crudely state their praxis, it is that they argue that knowledge has been historically organised in arborescence or “tree logic”, think of family trees or evolutionary tracing etc. However, they state that knowledge should be organised through the botanical term of the rhizome as “it is altogether different, a map and not a tracing” (12). It is their notion of “becoming” that Haraway takes issue directly, specifically, the pair’s “scorn for all that is mundane and ordinary” (27). Like AO, Deleuze and Guattari in TP coin and reference several different terms to work their way through society, like rhizomes, assemblages, territorialisation/deterritorialisation/reterritorialisation, and becoming. With each new term, another branch of the root grows, so it is through their notion of “becoming” that the terms “molar” and “molecular” come to light.

            The molar and molecular can be thought of as processes or machines interacting on multiple plateaus or “lines of flight” (270). They are ways of formatting knowledge horizontally rather than the arborescent vertical tree structure. Throughout TP, Deleuze and Guattari reference numerous forms of becomings, such as “becoming-vegetable”, “becoming-music”, “becoming-child”, and the molar and molecular function as tools for excavating these becomings from the rhizome. Most notably, the molar and the molecular function when D&D elucidate the three different types of animals: firstly, the Oedipal animal, like pets; secondly, “animals with characteristics or attributes; genus, classifications, or State animals”; and thirdly, “pack or affect animals that form a multiplicity” (240-41). The third classification of animals gives rise to “becoming”, and it is this third classification that Haraway takes issue with. Haraway’s main criticism of Deleuze and Guattari’s notion of “becoming-animal” is not simply their “scorn for all that is mundane and ordinary” (27). Still, their seemingly anti-materialist philosophy renders “companion species”, especially the dogs Haraway so affectionately loves dull and arborescent. Through Deleuze and Guattari’s appraisal of the unique and sublime elements of non-human animals, Haraway argues where their notions of “becoming” falls flat, and she claims that they believe it is through interactions with animality that the human subject can be abstracted or unzipped (30). However, although as problematic “becoming-animal” is at times as Haraway so clearly points out, her critiques that the “becoming-animal” is an abstracted form of human subjectivity.

            Haraway’s dismissal of Deleuze and Guattari’s notion of “becoming-animal” is well-grounded insofar that they favour the more nuanced forms of animal-human intersubjectivity, thus rendering the normal as inferior at times to their third type of animality: the pack or rhizomatic animal that forms a multiplicity. Her critique accuses Deleuze and Guattari of being more anti-materialist than I think they intend to be in TP. They claim, “Becomings-animal are neither dreams nor phantasies. They are perfectly real” (238). While their prosaic style is at times anti-materialist and dismissive of Oedipal animals, they are not framing “becoming-animal” as a process for unzipping the genome, thus generating a hybrid. For Deleuze and Guattari, hybridisation is constantly occurring, “becoming-animal” is not an imitative process whereby, for example, a human mirrors a cat’s behaviour. To “become-animal” is a continuous, material process that does not require the material to occur as they state:

The becoming-animal of the human being is real, even if the animal the human being becomes is not. The becoming-other of the animal is real, even if that something other it becomes is not. This is the point to clarify: a becoming lacks a subject distinct from itself [.] (TP 238).

Although “becoming-animal” can be an immaterial machine, the real-world effects are material; as Deleuze and Guattari clarify, to “become” anything is to “lack a subject distinct from itself”. To combat the perceived anti-materialism in Deleuze and Guattari, she coins the term “becoming-with”, a term that distances itself from Deleuze and Guattari’s distaste towards the Oedipal and all its familiars (40&315). Haraway argues that, like Derrida, Deleuze and Guattari fall into the trap of using animality to explore philosophical quandaries, thereby blindsiding animality insofar as the animal becomes another philosophical process to understand human exceptionalism further. “Becoming-with” or “becoming-with-companion” is a more appreciative term that works with not against a fluxed human-animal intersubjectivity, which displays the mutual feelings of respect one has when they interact with a companion species, or in Haraway’s case, when she kisses her dog. However, this essay again takes issue with Haraway’s example of her dog: where does the fluxed human-animal intersubjectivity occur when one interacts with “farm-species”? Is it when you stare at a decapitated, de-feathered, and chlorinated chicken in a supermarket fridge? Or is it when you listen to the sizzle and crackle of sausages frying, their fat spitting at you? Or finally, is it when you add milk to your coffee? Haraway ignores these marginalised forms of animality that this essay takes issue with; and is symbolic of the system and endemic denial of a becoming-with-farm-species.

Thou art too full o’the milk of bovine kindness: A close analysis of Andrea Arnold’s Cow.

            Andrea Arnold’s 2021 documentary Cow is neither a vegan nor a pro-dairy propaganda film; it is a film constructed to force the audience to come to terms with an uncomfortable truth. Arnold framed the documentary insofar that the audience “sees” the cow with real feelings and as real, not as a product, to in effect “show the aliveness of a nonhuman animal.” (Arnold qtd. Tsai). Set on a dairy farm in Park Farm, Kent, Arnold employs the filmic style Cinéma verité to chronicle four years of Luma’s life, a Holstein Friesen dairy cow and her two daughters born during the filming. The location of the farm is not important. As the title Cow suggests, it could be filmed at any dairy farm, and Arnold’s intentions of constructing an empathetic medium would be successful. The opening sequence of Cow purposefully employs a shaky camera at eye-level with the fellow cattle in the shot, as various unnamed farmworkers goad them around the barn. It is at this point we are first introduced to Luna; the image is delivered through a highly detailed close-up, where Luna’s face occupies more and more of the frame; the barn, the workers, and the other cattle are out of focus, we are immersed in the shot with Luna. Arnold reminds the audience from the first minute that this is about a cow, specifically Luna; Arnold further reinforces this with the title Cow edited into the shot. Consequently, this frame serves as the title card. The shaky framing of Luna’s close-up shot allows for what Deleuze refers to in his later 1983 Cinema 1: The Movement-Image, as “the frame ensures a deterritorialization of the image” (15). This is because the close-up shot of Luna’s face “does not have the same denominator of distance, relief or light”. By this, Deleuze means, that the audience’s frame of reference is contained within the shot.

Luna “gazing into the camera”.

           Further still, the panning out to the next scene, where Luna gives birth to her first child, is indicative of Deleuze’s concept of the “out-of-field”, where the multiple deterritorialised images are in flux together in “what is neither seen nor understood but is nevertheless present” (16). The deterritorialised image reaches beyond the limited spatiality of the frame and shot and is simultaneously immersed into and with the audience. This process allows for film phenomenologist Vivian Sobchak’s concept of the audience projects a synthetic subject onto the screen. Arnold’s Cow becomes a form of “becoming-with-farmed-species”. The next scene is irreducibly raw and intentionally graphic. In a scene reminiscent of Kristeva’s abject, an unnamed farmworker pulls on a rope tightly tied around the unborn calf’s legs while slimy tendrils of puss fall to the ground below. Arnold then jump-cuts to a few hours later when the newly born calf is now dry, and the audience receives its first instance of the diegetic human voice “come on”, followed by a long “moo” from Luna (0:00:30-0:05:57). Again, we can return to Deleuze’s analysis of cinema, specifically the role of sound, as it is a much more powerful force of deterritorialisation than sight (90). There is a “becoming-music”, or “becoming-sound”, present in this elongated “moo”, one that stretches beyond the limited spatiality of the medium of the sound-image into the audience insofar that there is a “becoming-cow”, the audience is immersed with Luna’s pain. 

           Before this first instance of diegetic sound, Arnold heavily emphasises the alienation of her daughter as the now-dry calf attempts to suck at her mother’s udders to no avail. The daughter is forcefully led away from her mother into a pen with other calves. Luna is then hooked up to a lactation machine, where an unnamed worker inserts each suction device into her udders. The rhythmic suctioning sound is accompanied by the sounds of Billie Eilish’s “Lovely ft. Khalid” through loudspeakers on the farm. Through the playing of this song, albeit unintentionally, Arnold captures the depressing and darkly comedic reality of the dairy farm industry; it is not “lovely”, despite what the Billie Eilish song might suggest. When the udders are drained and Luna’s bodily worth stolen, her daughter is returned to her; again, she tries to suck on her mother’s now tired and empty udders to no avail. Only moments later, the daughter is picked up by a dairy worker and taken to another part of the farm to be fed. This sequence is most shocking to the audience as it forces the reader to confront, paraphrasing Haraway, what actual animals experience at the hands of real human beings (19). The calf is again led into an enclosure with other children and fed through a trough of artificial udders (Arnold 0:17:56-0:24:56).

Luna and her daughter.

           The four seconds of Arnold’s film, which display the artificial feeding of calves through plastic udders, is symbolic of the DeleuzoGuattarian concept of the orchid and the wasp. For D&G, the relationship between the orchid and the wasp is symptomatic of how deterritorialisation and reterritorialisation function in the construction of rhizomes and the process of becoming. They maintain that the “orchid deterritorialises by forming an image, tracing that wasp; but the wasp reterritorialises on that image” (10). This “becoming-wasp”/”becoming-orchid” process is not imitative; the two are not engaging in mimicry. Instead, the wasp becomes an extension or “piece of the orchid’s reproductive apparatus [as…] the two capture a code” (10). If we closely analyse Arnold’s film, we can situate Deleuze and Guattari’s orchid and the wasp to that of the calf and the udder. As Luna’s daughter and other calves approach the singular plastic udder, milk is poured into the trough. The most interesting part of this sequence is the worker pouring a bucket of milk into the trough, the milk here being the waste colostrum mixed with water to thin it down. The bovine species’ futurity is ensured through the maternal liquid detritus. This liquid residue is not the milk we drink; it is instead a suspension of whole milk, waste milk, reconstituted milk replacer, or fermented or fresh colostrum. A similar form of deterritorialisation and reterritorialisation occurs through feeding the calves in Arnold’s Cow. Instead of being a ”natural” process, like the orchid and the wasp, the interference of the human worker and the homogenising machine renders this process a cyborg process.

By cyborg, I am referring to Haraway’s 1985 A Cyborg Manifesto, whereby she states, “A cyborg is a cybernetic organism, a hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction.” (1). However, if we extend Haraway’s notion of cyborg processes and collate it with Deleuze and Guattari’s desiring-production from AO, whereby, both the human and the machinic interference render this a cyborg-machine. The milk suspension, like the milk in our supermarkets, is passed through complex machines and is pumped with hormones and medicine to ensure the future of the dairy industry. Therefore, in summary, the calves are deterritorialised by the plastic udder (a cyborg machine) and reterritorialised by the machinic-milk (another cyborg-machine). Consequently, there is a usurping of the natural order of the cow and child by the human, one that is accentuated by the rampant ravaging of the dominated species’ body (meat) and produce (milk) to attain greater capital wealth.

There is an interference in the natural order of cow and calf by the human. This interference is accentuated due to the rampant ravaging of the “dominated species” body (meat) and produce (milk) to attain greater capital wealth. There is something Freudian about neoliberal capitalism’s obsession with milk and factory farming. It indicates D&G’s desiring-production from Anti-Oedipus, precisely what they refer to as “[the] mouth-machine and the flow of milk of a herd of dairy cattle” (38). Therefore, the machinic farming of Luna and her fellow “dominated species” incorporates the human into a “becoming-cow”. By this, I mean the human digests the animal product into its constituent parts: lipids, proteins, mono and polysaccharides. Enzymes break down the peptide chains, the structures unwoven and then reconstructed through protein and lipid syntheses. The milk you drink and the steak you eat become your muscles, bones, and fat; you are as much a cow as Luna. However, there is a third party to this machine of becoming-cow from cow to human, the industrialised machine. The milk in the carton from the supermarket is pasteurised, from udder to mouth, machines feed you. The process of milk and meat by machines homogenises the milk from the udder into a suspension of shit, spunk, piss, puss, phlegm, vaginal fluids, water, curds, sweat, coagulated sticky thick milk; all these fluids are accompanied by innumerable species of bacteria, all hitching a ride from udder to mouth. Of course, they are autoclaved, but the milk as a product is filtered, pulped, and seeped through so many machines that when you drink the milk, you become-cyborg; the human engages in a cyborg activity, as Haraway would phrase it (A Cyborg Manifesto1). In such a way that, as Haraway claims, “90 per cent of the cells [in the human body] are filled with the genomes of bacteria, fungi, protists, and such” (When Species Meet 3); we, therefore, become-cow, subservient to the neoliberal capitalist machine. Capitalism incorporates the human with the animal, in what Jean-François Lyotard argues beyond D&G’s deteritorialized form of subjectivity into a “libidinal Moebian band” (11); the human and the cow are both pulped, abstracted pieces of flesh in the face of neoliberal capitalism. A process, Lyotard contentiously argues, that we enjoy, we masturbate to our defilement, revelling in sheer libidinal orgasmic ecstasy as our bodily structure becomes one-with-cow.

In bringing this essay to a close, I would like to maintain that this is not a defence of Deleuze and Guattari nor a direct attack on Haraway. Instead, it is the employment of D&G to shed light on the lack of a politico-economic outlook of Haraway’s term “companion species”. While at times dismissive of Haraway, this essay still maintains that her hopeful meditation on the interactions between humans and animals is incredibly insightful. Further still, this essay is not a pro-vegan/vegetarian manifesto; it is, however, an attack on neoliberal capitalism’s predatory factory farms. The factory farm machine preys on both the human and the animal. For the animal, it is extracting every fibrous molecule of a “dominated species” and exchanging it for capital. Moreover, for the human, it preys on willful ignorance, a libidinous enjoyment of oppressing non-human animals, an enjoyment that Arnold’s Cow seeks to disrupt.

Works Cited

Cow. Dirrected by Andrea Arnold, cinematography by Magda Kowalczyk, BBC Film 2021. MUBI.

Deleuze, Gilles and Félix Guattari. Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Translated by Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane. The Viking Press, 1977.

—. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Translated by Brian Massumi. Athlone, 1988.

Deleuze, Gilles. Cinema 1: The Movement-Image. Translated by Hugh Tomlinson and Barbara Habberjam. U of Minnesota P, 1983.

Derrida, Jacques. “The Animal That Therefore I Am (More to Follow).” The Animal That Therefore I Am. Edited by Marie-Louise Mallet. Translated by David Wills. Fordham UP, 2008. pp. 1-51.

“Domination.” Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford UP, 2019, Accessed 26 May 2022

“Dominion.” Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford UP, 2019, Accessed 26 May 2022

Haraway, Donna J. “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century”. Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. Routledge, 1991. pp. 149-181.

—. The Companion Species Manifesto: Dogs, People, and Significant Otherness, Prickly Paradigm Press, 2003.

—.When Species Meet. U of Minneapolis P, 2007.

Lyotard, Jean-François. Libidinal Economy. Translated by Iain Hamilton Grant. Continuum, 1993.

[1] The notion of non-domesticated “wild” animals is included in this side of the binary, as they exist as “pets” on safaris or reservations etc.  

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