Alex Steiner: Martin Heidegger, filósofo y nazi


[Diese Datei enthält alle drei Teile und zum Schluss ein paar Leserbriefe dazu. Fritsche wird in Teil drei zitiert und erläutert.]

The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi Part 1: The RecordWorld
Socialist Web Site http://www.wsws.org

WSWS : Philosophy
The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi
Part 1: The Record

By Alex Steiner

3 April 2000

We begin today a three-part series on the life and work of twentieth century
German philosopher Martin Heidegger. Part 2 (“The Cover-up”) will be posted on Tuesday, April 4 and Part 3 (“History, Philosophy and Mythology”) will appear on Wednesday, April 5.

Martin Heidegger (1889-1976) has been considered by many to be one of the titans
of twentieth century philosophy. His international reputation was assured with
the publication in 1927 of Being and Time, a book that was characterized by the
young Jurgen Habermas as “the most significant philosophical event since Hegel’s
Phänomenologie …”[1]
The success of Being and Time was immediate and its influence pervasive. Many
currents of contemporary thought over the past 70 years have been inspired by
and in some cases directly derived from the work of Heidegger. Among these we
can mention existentialism, hermeneutics, postmodernism, eco-feminism, and
various trends in psychology, theology and literature. His writings have
influenced thinkers as diverse as Herbert Marcuse, Jean-Paul Sartre, Jacques
Derrida, Paul Tillich and countless others. Heidegger’s distinguished career as
professor of philosophy at the University of Freiburg was marred by a singular
event in his life. After Hitler’s seizure of power in 1933 Heidegger the
world-renowned philosopher became Heidegger the Nazi, holding membership card
number 312589.
The topic of Heidegger’s Nazism has recently stepped out of the pages of
scholarly journals and become an issue in the popular press and mass media. Last
year, the BBC aired a television series about three philosophers who have
strongly influenced our epoch, Nietzsche, Heidegger and Sartre. The episode on
Heidegger could not help but discuss his Nazism. Late last year, the New York
Review of Books published an article covering the relationship between Heidegger
and his colleagues Karl Jaspers and Hannah Arendt.
All this publicity to what was previously an obscure chapter in the life of a
well-known philosopher has caused a ripple of shock and dismay. For example, a
viewer of the BBC series recently wrote of his consternation that “the depth of
his [Heidegger's] collaboration with the Nazis has only recently … been
brought out.” The long-standing myopia in the case of Heidegger can be directly
ascribed to a systematic cover-up that was perpetrated by Heidegger himself
during and after his Nazi period, and carried on by his students and apologists
to this day
. Before we explore the story of the cover-up, itself a long and
fascinating page in the annals of historical falsification, let us first
establish the facts of Heidegger’s relationship with the Nazis
.
The facts can no longer be seriously contested since the publication of Victor
Farias’ book, Heidegger and Nazism in 1987
.[2] Farias is a Chilean-born student
of Heidegger’s who spent a decade locating virtually all the relevant documents
relating to Heidegger’s activities in the years from 1933 to 1945. Many of these
documents were found in the archives of the former state of East Germany and in
the Documentation Center of the former West Berlin. Since the publication of
Farias’ landmark book, a number of other books and articles have been published
that explore the issue of Heidegger’s Nazism. An excellent summary of the
historical material can be found in an article written in 1988, Heidegger and
the Nazis.[3] Much of the material presented in this section is borrowed from
this article.
Heidegger was born and raised in the Swabian town of Messkirch in the south of
modern Germany. The region was economically backward, dominated by peasant-based
agriculture and small scale manufacturing. The politics of the region was
infused by a populist Catholicism that was deeply implicated in German
nationalism, xenophobia and anti-Semitism
. Modern culture and with it the ideals
of liberalism as well as socialism were viewed as mortal threats
. The growing
influence throughout Germany of the Social Democratic Party was commonly
identified as the main “internal enemy” in this region
. In the ensuing decades
this area would become one of the bastions of support for Nazism.
Heidegger’s family was of lower middle class origin. His mother came from a
peasant background and his father was an artisan. He was a promising student and
won a scholarship to attend secondary school in Konstanz. There he attended a
preparatory school for the novitiate. The school was established by the Catholic
Church hierarchy as a bastion of conservatism against the growing influence of
liberalism and Protestantism in the region. Nevertheless some of the secular
faculty of the school held decisively democratic and progressive ideals. Their
lectures were among the most popular at the school. We do not know exactly how
these progressive ideas were received by the young Heidegger. We do know that at
an early and formative period he was already confronted by the interplay of
ideas that were battling for supremacy in his part of Germany. We also know that
by the time Heidegger received his baccalaureate degree, he had rejected the
vocation of priest in favor of that of scholar. He also became heavily involved
in the partisan and cultural struggles of his time. By the time he was in his
early twenties, he was a leader in a student movement that embraced the ideals
of right-wing Catholic populism.

The reactionary and xenophobic forces in the region were strengthened following
the First World War and the Russian Revolution. The outcome of the war,
enshrined in the Versailles treaty, was not only a humiliating defeat for the
nationalists, but also resulted in the loss of territory to France. The lost
territories became a cause celebre among right-wing nationalist circles after
the war. The Russian Revolution on the other hand, while inspiring the working
class in Germany, spread fear and horror among the largely Catholic peasants in
the rural south
. A sense of crisis of world historic dimensions dominated the
ideology of the right-wing nationalist movements of the period. The zeitgeist of
crisis was given voice by the philosopher Oswald Spengler, who in turn was
inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche
. We know that Heidegger early on in his career
expressed sympathies for the nationalist viewpoint. It is also a fact that the
sense of crisis that emerged in this historical confluence would be a theme that
Heidegger the philosopher would retain his entire career.
Documentary evidence exists that Heidegger expressed sympathy for the Nazis as
early as 1932
. Given his previous history, this should not come as a shock.
Immediately following Hitler’s seizure of power, Heidegger joined the Nazis.
Heidegger was a dues-paying member of the NSDAP (the Nazi party) from 1933 to
1945
. He became the rector of Freiburg University in April of 1933, three months
after Hitler came to power. His infamous inaugural address was delivered on May
27, 1933. Heidegger apologists have claimed that this address represented an
attempt to assert the autonomy of the university against the Nazis’ effort to
subordinate the sciences to their reactionary doctrines.
In fact, the address was a call to arms for the student body and the faculty to
serve the new Nazi regime
. It celebrates the Nazi ascendancy as “the march our
people has begun into its future history.” Heidegger identifies the German
nation with the Nazi state in prose that speaks of “the historical mission of
the German Volk, a Volk that knows itself in its state.” There is even a
reference to the fascist ideology of zoological determinism when Heidegger
invokes “the power to preserve, in the deepest way, the strengths [of the Volk]
which are rooted in soil and blood.”

On June 30, 1933 Heidegger gave a speech to the Heidelberg Student Association
in which he gave his views on the role of the university in the new Nazi order.
The following excerpt speaks for itself. It provides a glimpse of Heidegger’s
commitment to the Nazi ideals of blood, race and absolute subservience to the
Führer.
“It [the university] must be integrated into the Volksgemeinschaft and be joined
together with the state …
“Up to now, research and teaching have been carried on at the universities as
they were carried out for decades…. Research got out of hand and concealed its
uncertainty behind the idea of international scientific and scholarly progress.
Teaching that had become aimless hid behind examination requirements.
“A fierce battle must be fought against this situation in the National Socialist
spirit, and this spirit cannot be allowed to be suffocated by humanizing,
Christian ideas that suppress its unconditionality …
“Danger comes not from work for the State. It comes only from indifference and
resistance. For that reason, only true strength should have access to the right
path, but not halfheartedness …
“University study must again become a risk, not a refuge for the cowardly.
Whoever does not survive the battle, lies where he falls. The new courage must
accustom itself to steadfastness, for the battle for the institutions where our
leaders are educated will continue for a long time. It will be fought out of the
strengths of the new Reich that Chancellor Hitler will bring to reality. A hard
race with no thought of self must fight this battle, a race that lives from
constant testing and that remains directed toward the goal to which it has
committed itself. It is a battle to determine who shall be the teachers and
leaders at the university.”[4]
After the war Heidegger tried to paint an exculpatory picture of his term as
rector, claiming that he was defending the integrity of the university against
the Nazis’ attempts to politicize it. Unfortunately for him the documentary
evidence provided by this speech and others like it blow up his attempted alibi.
Existing documentary evidence from Heidegger’s period as rector traces the
following events:
On August 21, 1933 Heidegger established the Führer -principle at Freiburg. This
meant that the rector would not be elected by the faculty as had been the
custom, but would henceforth be appointed by the Nazi Minister of Education. In
that capacity, the Führer -rector would have absolute authority over the life of
the university. On October 1, 1933 his goal was realized when he was officially
appointed Führer of Freiburg University. For Heidegger this was a milestone on
the way to fulfilling his ultimate ambition, which was to become the leading
philosopher of the Nazi regime. He envisioned a relationship in which he would
become the philosopher-consul to Hitler.

On September 4, 1933, in declining an appointment to the University of Munich,
he wrote, “When I put personal reasons aside for the moment, I know I ought to
decide to work at the task that lets me best serve the work of Adolf Hitler.”[5]
On November 3, 1933, in his role as Führer -rector, Heidegger issued a decree
applying the Nazi laws on racial cleansing to the student body of the
university. The substance of the decree awarded economic aid to students
belonging to the SS, the SA and other military groups. “Jewish or Marxist
students” or anyone considered non-Aryan according to Nazi law would be denied
financial aid
.[6]
On December 13, 1933, Heidegger solicited financial support from German
academics for a book of pro-Hitler speeches that was to be distributed around
the world. He added on the bottom of the letter that “Needless to say,
non-Aryans shall not appear on the signature page.”[7]
On December 22, 1933, Heidegger wrote to the Baden minister of education urging
that in choosing among applicants for a professorship one should question “which
of the candidates … offers the greatest assurance of carrying out the National
Socialist will for education.”[8]
The documentary evidence also shows that while Heidegger was publicly extolling
the Nazi cause, he was privately working to destroy the careers of students and
colleagues who were either Jewish or whose politics was suspect. Among the
damning evidence that has been revealed:
Hermann Staudinger, a chemistry professor at Freiburg who would go on to win the
Nobel prize in 1953, was secretly denounced by Heidegger as a former pacifist
during World War I. This information was conveyed to the local minister of
education on February 10, 1934. Staudinger was faced with the loss of his job
and his pension. Some weeks later Heidegger interceded with the minister to
recommend a milder punishment. The motivation for this action had nothing to do
with pangs of conscience or compassion, but was simply an expedient response to
what Heidegger feared would be adverse international publicity to the dismissal
of a well-known scholar. He wrote the minister, “I hardly need to remark that as
regards the issue nothing of course can change. It’s simply a question of
avoiding as much as possible, any new strain on foreign policy.”[9] The ministry
forced Staudinger to submit his resignation and then kept him in suspense for
six months before tearing it up and reinstating him.
The case of Eduard Baumgarten provides another example of the crass opportunism
and vindictiveness exhibited by Heidegger. Baumgarten was a student of American
philosophy who had lectured at the University of Wisconsin in the 1920s. He
returned to Germany to study under Heidegger and the two men struck up a close
friendship. In 1931, however, a personal falling out ensued after Heidegger
opposed Baumgarten’s work in American pragmatism. Baumgarten left Freiburg to
teach American philosophy at the University of Gottingen. On December 16, 1933,
Heidegger, once more in his role as stool pigeon, wrote a letter to the head of
the Nazi professors at Gottingen that read, “By family background and
intellectual orientation Dr. Baumgarten comes from the Heidelberg circle of
liberal democratic intellectuals around Max Weber. During his stay here [at
Freiburg] he was anything but a National Socialist. I am surprised to hear that
he is lecturing at Gottingen: I cannot imagine on the basis of what scientific
works he got the license to teach. After failing with me, he frequented, very
actively, the Jew Frankel, who used to teach at Gottingen and just recently was
fired from here [under Nazi racial laws].”
[10]
Dr. Vogel, the recipient of this letter, thought that it was “charged with
hatred” and refused to use it. His successor, however, sent it to the minister
of education in Berlin who suspended Baumgarten and recommended that he leave
the country. Fortunately for Baumgarten he was able to get a copy of the
Heidegger letter through the intercession of a sympathetic secretary. It is only
due to this circumstance that this piece of documentary evidence still exists.
It is impossible to guess how many other poisoned letters were penned by
Heidegger in this period. Baumgarten was fortunate enough to win back his job
after appealing to the Nazi authorities. These facts were brought to light
during de-Nazification hearings in 1946.
Mention might be made of an incident with Max Müller. Müller, who became a
prominent Catholic intellectual after the war, was one of Heidegger’s best
students from 1928 to 1933. He was also an opponent of Nazism. He stopped
attending Heidegger’s lectures after the latter joined the Nazi party on May 1,
1933. Several months later, Heidegger used his authority as Führer -rector to
fire Müller from his position as student leader on the grounds that Müller was
“not politically appropriate.”[11] That was not the end of the story. In 1938
Heidegger, although no longer rector, once again intervened with the authorities
to block Müller from getting an appointment as a lecturer at Freiburg. He wrote
the university administration that Müller was “unfavorably disposed” toward the
regime.[12] This single sentence effectively meant the end of Müller’s academic
career. Müller, learning of this, paid a personal call on Heidegger asking him
to strike the incriminating sentence from his recommendation. Heidegger, playing
the role of Pilate, refused to do so, lecturing Müller by invoking his
Catholicism. “As a Catholic you must know that everyone has to tell the
truth.”[13]

Finally, there is the matter of Heidegger’s treatment of his former teacher,
Edmund Husserl
. Husserl founded the philosophical school of phenomenology and
had an international reputation equal to that of Heidegger. Husserl was also a
Jew. He fell under the edict of the racial cleansing laws and was denied the use
of the University library at Freiburg. In carrying out the Nazi edicts,
Heidegger was not simply doing his duty as a Nazi Führer -rector. There is
plenty of evidence to suggest that Heidegger enthused in accomplishing a mission
with which he closely identified. According to the testimony of the philosopher
Ernst Cassirer’s widow, Heidegger was personally an anti-Semite. In the past few
years other evidence has come to light to suggest that Heidegger’s anti-Semitism
did not disappear after the war. One eyewitness, Rainer Marten, recounted a
conversation with Heidegger in the late 1950s in which the distinguished
professor expressed alarm at the renewal of Jewish influence in the philosophy
departments of German universities.[14]

Apologists for Heidegger, most recently Rüdiger Safranski, have sought to
exonerate him from any personal responsibility for the fate of Husserl. They
point out that Heidegger never signed any edicts specifically limiting Husserl’s
access to the university facilities.[15] Yet this narrowly construed defense
hardly absolves Heidegger of his complicity as an agent in carrying out Nazi
anti-Jewish edicts, edicts that he knew would have a devastating impact on
former friends and colleagues. Nor is any explanation possible that would redeem
Heidegger from the shameful act of removing his dedication to his mentor Husserl
from Being and Time when that work was reissued in 1941.

After the war Heidegger would make much of the fact that he resigned his post as
rector after June 30, 1934. This coincided with the infamous “Night of the Long
Knives,” which saw forces loyal to Hitler stage a three-day carnage resulting in
the assassination of Ernst Röhm and over one hundred of his Storm Troopers.
Heidegger was later to maintain that after this date he broke definitively with
Nazism. Yet in a lecture on metaphysics given a year after this event Heidegger
publicly refers to “the inner truth and greatness of National Socialism.”
“The stuff which is now being bandied about as the philosophy of National
Socialism—but which has not the least to do with the inner truth and greatness
of this movement (namely the encounter between global technology and modern
man)—is casting its net in these troubled waters of ‘values’ and
‘totalities’.”
[16]
It is also true that Heidegger began to distance himself from certain aspects of
National Socialism. Farias’ book convincingly argues that after 1934 Heidegger
counterposed to the existing Nazi regime an idealized vision of a National
Socialism that might have been. According to Farias, this utopian Nazism was
identified in Heidegger’s mind with the defeated faction of Röhm. The thesis of
Heidegger’s relationship with Röhm has generated a great deal of controversy and
has never been satisfactorily resolved. It is however an incontrovertible fact
that Heidegger did believe in a form of Nazism, “the inner truth of this great
movement,” till the day he died.

There is another biographical fact that the Heidegger apologists cannot pass
over. Heidegger was a life-long friend of a man named Eugen Fischer. Fischer was
active in the early years of Nazi rule as a leading proponent of racial
legislation. He was the head of the Institute of Racial Hygiene in Berlin which
propagated Nazi racial theories. One of the “researchers” at his institute was
the infamous Dr. Joseph Mengele. Fischer was one of the intellectual authors of
the Nazi “final solution.” Heidegger maintained cordial relations with Fischer
at least until 1960 when he sent Fischer a Christmas gift with greetings. It
would not be stretching credibility too far to suppose that as a result of his
personal relationship with Fischer, Heidegger may have had knowledge at a very
early period of Nazi plans for genocide
.[17]
The record shows that after the war Heidegger never made a public or private
repudiation of his support for Nazism
. This was despite the fact that former
friends, including Karl Jaspers and Herbert Marcuse, urged him to speak out,
after the fact to be sure, against the many crimes perpetrated by the Nazi
regime. Heidegger never did. He did however make a fleeting reference to the
Holocaust in a lecture delivered on Dec. 1, 1949. Speaking about technology, he
said:
“Agriculture is now a motorized food-industry—in essence, the same as the
manufacturing of corpses in the gas chambers and the extermination camps, the
same as the blockade and starvation of the countryside, the same as the
production of the hydrogen bombs
.”[18]
In equating the problems of mechanized agriculture with the Holocaust, thereby
trivializing the latter, Heidegger demonstrated his contempt for the Jewish
victims of the Nazis. We will return to this theme when we examine Heidegger’s
philosophy.

For the most part Heidegger chose to remain silent after the war about his
activities on behalf of the Nazis. The few occasions in which Heidegger did
venture a public statement were notable. The first instance in which he makes
any assessment of this period was a self-serving document that was written for
the de-Nazification commission. We will comment on that in the next section. The
most important postwar statement Heidegger made about his prewar political
activity was in a 1966 interview with the magazine Der Spiegel. This interview
was first published, at Heidegger’s insistence, after his death in 1976. A great
deal of the discussion centers on the question of technology and the threat that
unconstrained technology poses to man. Heidegger says at one point:
“A decisive question for me today is: how can a political system accommodate
itself to the technological age, and which political system would this be? I
have no answer to this question. I am not convinced that it is democracy
.”[19]
Having set up an ahistorical notion of technology as an absolute bane to the
existence of mankind, Heidegger then explains how he conceived of the Nazi
solution to this problem:
“ … I see the task in thought to consist in general, within the limits
allotted to thought, to achieve an adequate relationship to the essence of
technology. National Socialism, to be sure, moved in this direction. But those
people were far too limited in their thinking to acquire an explicit
relationship to what is really happening today and has been underway for three
centuries.”[20]

It is thus beyond dispute that at the time of his death Heidegger thought of
Nazism as a political movement that was moving in the right direction. If it
failed then this was because its leaders did not think radically enough about
the essence of technology.

Notes:
1. Jurgen Habermas, “On the Publication of the Lectures of 1935,” trans. Richard
Wolin, The Heidegger Controversy: A Critical Reader, ed. Richard Wolin,
Cambridge: MIT Press, 1998, p. 191
2. Victor Farias, Heidegger and Nazism, Temple University Press, 1989
3. Thomas Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis,” New York Review of Books, June 16,
1988
4. Martin Heidegger, “The University in the New Reich” Wolin, pp. 44-45
5. Farias, 164
6. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
7. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
8. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
9. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
10. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
11. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
12. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
13. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
14. George Leaman, “Strategies of Deception: The Composition of Heidegger’s
Silence,” Martin Heidegger and the Holocaust, ed. Alan Milchman and Alan
Rosenberg, Humanities Press, 1996, p. 64
15. Rüdiger Safranski, Martin Heidegger: Between Good and Evil, t rans. Ewald
Osers, Cambridge: Harvard University Pressm 1998, p. 257
16. Sheehan
17. Richard Wolin, “French Heidegger Wars,” Wolin, p. 282
18. Farias, 287.
19. Martin Heidegger, “Only a God Can Save Us”: Der Spiegel interview, Wolin, p.
104
20. Martin Heidegger, “Only a God Can Save Us”: Der Spiegel interview, Wolin, p.
111

Copyright 1998-2003
World Socialist Web Site
All rights reserved

—————————————————————————-

WSWS : Philosophy
The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi
Part 2: The Cover-up

By Alex Steiner

4 April 2000

We continue today a series on the life and work of twentieth century German
philosopher Martin Heidegger. The final part will posted tomorrow, April 5.

Having reviewed some of the pertinent facts in the career of German philosopher
Martin Heidegger, we must now turn to the myths and evasions that constitute the
building blocks of his postwar reputation. The official version of the story,
propounded by Heidegger and his supporters, has it that his 1933 turn to Nazism
was a youthful mistake, a brief flirtation by a scholar who was naïve about
politics and the ways of the world. Within a few months, so the story goes, the
young philosopher realized his mistake, resigned his position as rector of
Freiburg University and refused henceforth to take part in Nazi activities.
Furthermore, the legend continues, even during his period as rector, Heidegger
tried to protect the integrity of the university from the worst predations of
Nazism and personally intervened with the Nazi authorities on behalf of a number
of Jewish students and colleagues.
Finally, even if one is not convinced by this account of events, the most one
can say, according to his defenders, is that Heidegger the man suffered from a
character flaw. Heidegger’s personal failing, however, is an entirely separate
matter from his philosophy, which must be judged “on its own merits.” Concretely
this means that any assessment of Heidegger’s philosophy that tries to relate it
to his Nazism is deemed illegitimate by his apologists. This viewpoint further
implies that there is nothing in Heidigger’s pre-Nazi philosophy, particularly
in Being and Time that bears any affinity to Nazi ideas. Similarly, the later
turn [Kehre] in Heidegger’s philosophy has been interpreted as a purely internal
reaction, unrelated to politics, to problems encountered in the initial
formulation of his thought.
This is a multi-layered effort at damage control. One can view the cover-up as a
redoubt upon whose walls Heidegger’s supporters stand fighting to prevent a
breach. If the facade, the story of Heidegger’s youthful indiscretion, is
broken, all is not lost. The inner wall, Heidegger’s actions as rector in
defiance of the Nazis, still stands. Even if this line of defense is broken, and
the supporters are forced to concede the defects of Heidegger the man, there
still stands the last line of defense, the so-called autonomy of Heidegger’s
philosophy. Marshaling an impressive array of intellectuals in his defense, many
with impeccable anti-Nazi credentials, Heidegger managed to maintain his
reputation relatively intact until the middle of the 1980s.
One can trace the beginnings of the campaign to rescue Heidegger’s reputation
from the verdict of posterity to the efforts of Heidegger himself. The outlines
of the legend of the politically naïve scholar are already adumbrated in the
biographical essay Heidegger submitted to the de-Nazification committee in 1945.
Here he wrote:
“In April 1933, I was unanimously elected Rector (with two abstentions) in a
plenary session of the university and not, as rumor has it, appointed by the
National Socialist minister. [That appointment would come later when Heidegger
was made Führer of the university, something he fails to mention. A.S
.] It was
as a result of pressure from my circle of colleagues … that I consented to be
a candidate for this election and agreed to serve. Previously I neither desired
nor occupied an academic office. I never belonged to a political party [This is
not exactly the full story as we know that in his early 20s he was the president
of a right-wing Catholic youth movement. A.S.] nor maintained a relation, either
personal or substantive, with the NSDAP or with governmental authorities. I
accepted the rectorship reluctantly and in the interest of the university
alone.”[1]
Having painted a picture of his reluctant enlistment as rector, the letter
proceeds to describe how its author joined the Nazi party, almost as an
afterthought, in order to facilitate administrative relations with the
university.
“A short while after I took control of the rectorship the district head
presented himself, accompanied by two functionaries in charge of university
matters, to urge me, in accordance with the wishes of the minister, to join the
Party. The minister insisted that in this way my official relations with the
Party and the governing organs would be simplified, especially since up until
then I had no contact with these organs. After lengthy considerations, I
declared myself ready to enter the Party in the interests of the university, but
under the express condition of refusing to accept a position within the Party or
working on behalf of the Party either during the rectorship or afterward.”[2]
[He fails to explain here why, if his party membership was motivated by his
desire to facilitate his work as rector, he renewed it every year until 1945,
long after his duties as rector were terminated. A. S.
]
Finally he presents evidence of his opposition to Nazism after his resignation
as rector in 1934.
“After my resignation from the rectorship it became clear that by continuing to
teach, my opposition to the principles of the National Socialist world-view
would only grow…. Since National Socialist ideology became increasingly
inflexible and increasingly less disposed to a purely philosophical
interpretation, [The "purely philosophical interpretation" is apparently how
Heidegger wishes to convey to the reader his initial attraction to Nazism, which
unfortunately had lost its metaphysical lustre by 1934. A.S.] the fact that I
was active as a philosopher was itself a sufficient expression of opposition …
“I also demonstrated publicly my attitude toward the Party by not participating
in its gatherings, by not wearing its regalia, and, as of 1934, by refusing to
begin my courses and lectures with the so-called German greeting [Heil
Hitler!]… [We now know from some of the documentation published by Farias that
this last statement is a patent lie. A.S.
]
“There was nothing special about my spiritual resistance during the last eleven
years.”[3]
By presenting himself as accidentally caught up in a form of “philosophical”
Nazism for a brief period that was later transformed into one of “spiritual
resistance” Heidegger tried to build a wall around his philosophical views. The
methods he employed were silence about much of his activity before and after
1933, evasions, half-truths and outright lies.
In Heidegger’s philosophy, the category of “silence” denotes not simply the
absence of speech, but is itself an active form of being in the world. Likewise
in his practice “silence” has meant the active suppression of evidence about his
Nazi years. Much of Heidegger’s correspondence and other personal documents have
been unavailable to scholars for decades. These documents are kept under lock
and key by the Heidegger family and sympathetic scholars
. Furthermore, in the
immediate postwar years, the academic community in Germany had been loathe to
publicize anything related to Heidegger’s Nazism. One early scholar who did much
original research in this area, Guido Schneeberger, found that he could not find
a publisher for his book. He eventually published his findings on his own in
1962.

Nor has Heidegger shied away from out-and-out falsification of his own history.
A well-documented example involves the republication of his 1935 lecture on
metaphysics. The 1953 edition of this lecture includes the infamous depiction of
the “inner truth” of Nazism. The full statement in the 1953 edition reads as
follows:
“The stuff which is now being bandied about as the philosophy of National
Socialism—but which has not the least to do with the inner truth and greatness
of this movement (namely the encounter between global technology and modern
man)—is casting its net in these troubled waters of ‘values’ and
‘totalities’.”[4]
The publication of this article caused a bit of consternation in Germany. Some
questioned why Heidegger chose to reprint this article in this exact form. He
responded:
“It would have been easy to drop the aforementioned sentence, along with other
ones you cite, from the printed manuscript. But I did not and I will keep it
there in the future because, for one thing, the sentences belong historically to
the lecture course …”[5]
We now know that Heidegger did indeed make changes to the 1935 text when he
prepared it for republication. For one thing, the more general “inner truth and
greatness of this movement” is actually the much more specific “inner truth and
greatness of National Socialism” in the original lecture
. When an assistant
helping him prepare the galley proofs for publication noticed this phrase,
without any explanatory text, he asked Heidegger to remove it. Heidegger
responded that he would not do so. Nevertheless, without telling his assistant,
Heidegger did change the text a few weeks later. He removed the direct reference
to “National Socialism” and substituted the general term “this movement.” He
also added the explanatory comment about technology in parenthesis. Heidegger
always maintained until his death that he never altered the text of this
lecture. He reiterated this point in his 1966 Der Spiegel interview. In a later
attempt to finally settle this controversy, a search was made of the original
1935 manuscript of the lecture. The page containing the controversial phrase was
missing.[6]
The same methods—suppression of evidence, evasions and falsifications—were
employed by the legions of Heidegger interpreters and apologists. They were,
until the publication of Farias epochal book, largely successful in preventing
any critical scrutiny of Heidegger’s ideas and their relation to his politics.
An ironic chapter in this enterprise was played out by the deconstruction
theorist, Paul De Man
. De Man did much to publicize Heidegger among the American
intelligentsia in the 1960s. Then there came the posthumous revelation in the
late 1980s that De Man’s hands had not exactly been clean. He had been a Nazi
collaborator in occupied Belgium during World War II and in that capacity had
written some anti-Semitic articles for a Nazi-sponsored literary magazine
. After
De Man’s war-time essays were published there ensued a lively controversy about
the relationship between De Man’s war-time activity and his subsequent ideas on
deconstruction
.[7]
An even more sinister champion of Heidegger was the French translator Jean
Beaufret. Beaufret, a former Resistance fighter, published several volumes of
conversations with Heidegger before his death in 1982. For 35 years he was the
most consistent defender of Heidegger in France. His credentials as a former
Resistance fighter lent added weight to his defense of a former Nazi
. Yet it
seems that all along Beaufret had a hidden agenda. He had been for some time a
secret sympathizer of the notorious Holocaust revisionist historian Robert
Faurisson
. Beaufret, like Faurisson, denied the existence of the Holocaust and
more specifically of the gas chambers. In a letter sent to Faurisson, Beaufret
was quoted as saying:

“I believe that for my part I have traveled approximately the same path as you
and have been considered suspect for having expressed the same doubts
[concerning the existence of the gas chambers]. Fortunately for me, this was
done orally.
”[8]
Beaufret’s credentials were never questioned until Faurisson published his
letters in the 1980s.
As part of their public relations campaign Heidegger and his apologists were
particularly keen to enlist the testimony of German Jewish philosophers who had
themselves suffered under the Nazis
. To this end the well-known philosopher and
German émigré Hanna Arendt was solicited to write an essay for an anthology
honoring Heidegger on the occasion of his eightieth birthday. Arendt’s essay,
“Heidegger at Eighty,” contains the following cryptic allusion to Heidegger’s
political activities:
“Now we all know that Heidegger, too, once succumbed to the temptation to change
his ‘residence’ and to get involved in the world of human affairs. As to the
world, he was served somewhat worse than Plato because the tyrant and his
victims were not located beyond the sea, but in his own country. [The reference
is to the sojourn Plato undertook to Syracuse. He hoped to counsel the tyrant of
Syracuse, Dionysus. After a relatively brief experiment in seeking to temper
Dionysus rule with a dose of wisdom, Plato returned to Athens, concluding that
his attempt to put his theories into practice had been a failure. A.S.] As to
Heidegger himself, I believe that the matter stands differently. He was still
young enough to learn from the shock of the collision, which after ten short
hectic months thirty-seven years ago drove him back to his residence, and to
settle in his thinking what he had experienced …

“We who wish to honor the thinkers, even if our own residence lies in the midst
of the world, can hardly help finding it striking and perhaps exasperating that
Plato and Heidegger, when they entered into human affairs, turned to tyrants and
Führers. This should be imputed not just to the circumstances of the times and
even less to preformed character, but rather to what the French call a
déformation professionelle. For the attraction to the tyrannical can be
demonstrated theoretically in many of the great thinkers (Kant is the great
exception). And if this tendency is not demonstrable in what they did, that is
only because very few of them were prepared to go beyond ‘the faculty of
wondering at the simple’ and to ‘accept this wondering as their abode.’”[
9]
According to the legal brief presented by Arendt, Heidegger’s unfortunate lapse
was due neither to the circumstances in which he lived, nor to his character and
certainly has no echo in his ideas
. The fact that Heidegger became a Nazi, which
she euphemistically describes as, having “succumbed to the temptation to change
his ‘residence’ and to get involved in the world of human affairs,” can be
ascribed solely to the occupational hazard of being a philosopher. And if other
philosophers did not follow in these footsteps, that can be explained by the
fact that they did not take thinking as seriously as Heidegger. They were not
prepared to “accept this wondering as their abode.”

Arendt’s piece is notable for its sheer effrontery. She manages to make
Heidegger into the victim who fell prey to the greatness of his thought. To say
that “He was served worse than Plato” is to imply that he was tossed about by
forces beyond his control, that he bore no responsibility for his own actions.
As if recognizing the absurdity of her position, Arendt shifts the argument from
the body of her text into a long explanatory footnote
. In this note she descends
from the lofty rhetoric of her musings on Plato to some of the concrete issues
surrounding the Heidegger affair. She returns to the theme of Heidegger’s primal
innocence and political naiveté, writing that
“… the point of the matter is
that Heidegger, like so many other German intellectuals, Nazis and anti-Nazis,
of his generation never read Mein Kampf.”[10]
Actually there is good evidence to suppose that Heidegger not only did read
Hitler’s opus, Mein Kampf, but approved of it. Tom Rockmore has convincingly
argued that in his speech assuming the rectorate of Freiburg, Heidegger’s
“multiple allusions to battle are also intended as a clear allusion to Hitler’s
notorious view of the struggle for the realization of the destiny of the German
people formulated in Mein Kampf.”[11]
At a later point in her note, Arendt seeks to turn the tables on Heidegger’s
critics by trotting out the legend, manufactured by Heidegger himself, of his
redemptive behavior following his “error.”

“Heidegger himself corrected his own ‘error’ more quickly and more radically
than many of those who later sat in judgment over him—he took considerably
greater risks than were usual in German literary and university life during that
period.”[12]

Even in 1971, Hannah Arendt certainly knew better, or should have known better,
than the tale she relates in this embarrassing apologia. She certainly knew for
instance of Heidegger’s 1953 republication of his essay discussing the “inner
truth of National Socialism.” She was also aware, through her friendship with
Karl Jaspers, of the deplorable behavior Heidegger exhibited toward Jaspers and
his Jewish wife
. (Heidegger broke off all personal relations with Jaspers and
his wife shortly after he became rector. It was only after the war that
Heidegger tried to repair their personal relationship. Despite an intermittent
exchange of letters, the two philosophers could never repair their personal
relationship as a result of Heidegger’s refusal to recant his support of
Nazism.)

The reference to the “considerably greater risks” he took, is, like Heidegger’s
“spiritual opposition” to Nazism, an echo of Heidegger’s own postwar
fabrications
. Why then did Hannah Arendt, a prominent liberal opponent of
fascism, weigh in with such fervor in the attempt to rehabilitate Heidegger’s
reputation? One can only guess
. Perhaps there was an element of loyalty to her
former teacher, a loyalty that was strained but not broken by her persecution at
the hands of the Nazis and her years in exile. (At one point she found herself
in a Nazi prison. Later when war broke out, she was trapped in Nazi-occupied
France, from which she managed a daring escape.) The most charitable
interpretation of her grotesque defense of Heidegger is that she turned away
from a truth that she could not face.

When Victor Farias’ book hit the stores, it had an electrifying effect on
Heidegger’s followers in France. Following the publication of his Heidegger and
Nazism in October of 1987, no less than six studies on the subject of Heidegger
and Nazism were published in the following nine months. This should not have
been a surprise. It was in France, after all, that Heidegger’s influence found
its deepest roots in the postwar period. The French debt to Heidegger extends
from the existentialism of Sartre in the early postwar period to the more recent
waves of structuralism, post-structuralism and deconstruction associated with
Claude Levi-Strauss, Michel Foucault and Jacques Derrida
. Also weighing in with
their own interpretations of Heidegger’s relation to Nazism were the
postmodernists Jean-Francois Lyotard and Jean Baudrillard.
One could, broadly speaking, break down the type of responses to Farias into
three main categories
. The first is the unconditional defense of Heidegger by
his most orthodox keepers of the flame. This group is represented by Francois
Fedier, who, since the death of his teacher Beaufret, has been the most
consistent defender of Heidegger in France. Fedier continues to deny that
Heidegger ever had any problem with Nazism and simply dismisses the rectorate
period as a youthful flirtation that has no bearing on Heidegger’s thought.
Fedier’s response, in light of the voluminous material in Farias’s book and
others published since, commands little credibility outside of the most ardent
devotees of the Heidegger cult.
The second type of response, represented by Derrida and his followers, is to
acknowledge in general that there is a problem with Heidegger’s philosophy
insofar as it allowed him to realize its implications by becoming a Nazi. But
then Derrida tries to turn the tables on Farias by insisting that the ultimate
cause of Heidegger’s turn to Nazism was the fact that Heidegger had not
sufficiently emancipated himself by 1933 from pre-Heideggerian ways of thinking,
particularly rationalism and humanism. According to Derrida’s tortured logic,
once Heidegger succeeded in liberating himself from “metaphysics” following his
post 1935 “turn,” his philosophy became the best form of anti-Nazism.
This perverse viewpoint was aptly summed up by one of Derrida’s students,
Lacoue-Labarthe, who said that “Nazism is a humanism.”
By this he meant that the
philosophical foundations that underpinned the Enlightenment tradition of
humanism had as their consequences the domination of humanity in the service of
an all-encompassing universal-totalitarianism. Such thinking has become a common
stock in trade of Derrida, Lacoue-Labarthe and their followers. The notion that
Nazism is just another expression of Enlightenment universalism has recently
been expressed by the Americans Alan Milchman and Alan Rosenberg. They write,
“This principle of sufficient reason, the basis of calculative thinking, in its
totalizing, and imperialistic, form, can be seen as the metaphysical
underpinning which made the Holocaust possible.”
[13]
From this premise, Lacoue-Labarthe builds a sophisticated defense of Heidegger.
Unlike the orthodox Heideggerians, he concedes that Heidegger’s thought was
consistent with his Nazism. However, Lacoue-Labarthe then seeks to rescue
Heidegger by claiming that the post-1935 Heidegger who had overcome metaphysics
and humanism, was free from any Nazi blemish. This bizarre argument is then
carried to its logical conclusion by other deconstructionists who insist that
not only is the second coming of Heidegger free of the fascist taint, but that
his work for the first time makes it possible for us to “think the Holocaust.”
Lest the reader thinks this is a polemical extravagance, listen to the words of
Milchman and Rosenberg,
“While facets of Heidegger’s thinking can provide insight into the experience of
the Extermination, make it possible for us to think Auschwitz, the Holocaust can
also help us to penetrate the opaqueness of the later Heidegger’s thinking.”[14]
Heidegger’s accusers on the other hand have been dubbed “totalitarians” in some
of the annals of the deconstructionists. Once more, as we saw in Arendt’s piece,
Heidegger was portrayed as a victim of small-minded and envious enemies.
Weighing in on the French debate from the other side of the Rhine was the
long-time Heidegger interpreter Hans-Georg Gadamer. In a curious echo of
Arendt’s 1971 essay, “Heidegger at Eighty,” Gadamer returns to the image of the
well-meaning but naïve thinker retreating from his attempt to educate the prince
of Syracuse.[15]

In contrast to the philosophical obscurantism practiced by Derrida and
Lacoue-Labarthe, some voices have been raised in the French discussion that
clearly acknowledge the problem posed by Heidegger’s lifelong relationship to
fascism. Most prominent among these is Pierre Bourdieu who wrote a major study
on Heidegger long before Farias’ book even appeared. This book was republished
in French in a somewhat revised format after the controversy elicited by
Farias’s book broke. The Political Ontology of Martin Heidegger, attempts to
ground Heidegger’s philosophy in the historical context from which Heidegger
emerged. At the same time Bourdieu avoids the temptation of simply reducing
Heidegger’s thought to a reflex of his historical and class position. Bourdieu
engages in a textual analysis of Heidegger’s work in an attempt to show the
intrinsic relationship between Heidegger’s philosophy and his politics. His
textual analysis is distinguished from the type of “immanent” reading of texts
characteristic of Derrida and other deconstructionists that artificially isolate
texts from the historical circumstances in which they were produced.
Perhaps the most curious and damning recent defense of Heidegger came not from
France but from Germany. Ernst Nolte, a historian and long-time friend of the
Heidegger family, published a biography of Heidegger in 1992, Martin Heidegger:
Politics and History in His Life and Thought. Prior to the publication of this
book, Nolte was already notorious as a revisionist historian of the Holocaust
and apologist for Nazism. Nolte has to be given his due as he was much more
consistent and far more intellectually honest than some of the French defenders
of Heidegger.

For Nolte, Heidegger’s turn to Nazism does not represent any problem at all. Not
only does Nolte insist on the intimate connection between Heidegger’s philosophy
and his Nazism, but he also defends Nazism as a necessary response to the
internal and external threat posed by the Russian Revolution. To Nolte Nazism
was a necessary response to Bolshevism and Heidegger, by turning to Nazism, was
merely responding to the call of historical necessity. Nolte even goes so far as
to defend the Holocaust as a defensive measure made necessary by the hostility
of world-Jewry to the National Socialist regime. Nolte’s defense of the
Holocaust is couched in the following rhetorical question:
“Could it be the case that the National Socialists and Hitler carried out an
‘Asiatic’ deed [the Holocaust] only because they considered themselves and their
kind to be potential or actual victims of a [Soviet] ‘Asiatic’ deed. Didn’t the
‘Gulag Archipelago’ precede Auschwitz?”[16]

There is a symmetry between the early apologists for Heidegger and Nolte’s
effort. Whereas the original defenders sought to minimize Heidegger’s political
involvement, then to build a wall between his politics and his philosophy, Nolte
inverts the terms of the argument. Not only was Heidegger a politically engaged
thinker from the start in Nolte’s view, but he made the right choice. He writes,
“Insofar as Heidegger resisted the attempt at the [Communist] solution, he, like
countless others, was historically right…. In committing himself to the
[National Socialist] solution perhaps he became a ‘fascist.’ But in no way did
that make him historically wrong from the outset.”[17]
Elsewhere Nolte returns to the story of Heidegger the otherworldly thinker who
became briefly ensnared in political matters that he did not understand. This
fertile image, introduced by Hannah Arendt, is turned on its head by Nolte.
Doubtless he did not wish to let a Jew get in the last word here. He writes of
Heidegger’s support for Hitler that, “…it was not an episodic ‘flight’ from
the realm of philosophy into everyday politics but was sustained by a
‘philosophical’ hope … [and was] essential to his life and thought.”[18]
In other words, Heidegger’s thought and his practice were cut from the same
cloth. He was not just a Nazi, but in the words of Thomas Sheehan, he was “a
normal Nazi.”
Finally, mention should be made of the most recent biography of Heidegger,
Rüdiger Safranski’s Martin Heidegger: Between Good and Evil, first published in
English in 1998. This book, unlike Nolte’s effusive support for Heidegger’s
Nazism, is a retreat back to a more orthodox defense of Heidegger
. Once again,
we are presented with a schizophrenic division between Heidegger the man and the
philosopher. The author diligently presents the known facts of Heidegger’s
association with Nazism. It is no longer tenable to deny these facts. At the
same time he provides a largely positive reading of Heidegger’s ideas
.
While avoiding the excesses and logical gymnastics of Lacoue-Labarthe and other
deconstructionists, Safranski seems incapable of making any essential judgment
about his subject. This deficiency, a common trademark of modern biography and
historiography, is considered an advantage in today’s dismal cultural context
.
The watchwords here are “detached” and “balanced.” Despite the minutiae of
facts, there is little understanding. In its own way, this book is another
contribution to the cover-up. In the end, Safranski weighs in on the side of
those who praise Heidegger for making it possible for us to “think Auschwitz.”
He writes:
“The fact that Heidegger rejected the idea that he should defend himself as a
potential accomplice to murder does not mean that he shied away from the
challenge ‘to think Auschwitz.’ When Heidegger refers to the perversion of the
modern will to power, for which nature and man have become mere ‘machinations,’
he always explicitly or not, also means Auschwitz. To him, as to Adorno,
Auschwitz is a typical crime of the modern age.”
[19]
We cannot let pass commenting on the arrogance of Safranski’s juxtaposition of
Heidegger with Theodore Adorno. Adorno despised Heidegger and had nothing but
contempt for Heidegger’s “jargon of authenticity,” which he viewed as a form of
philosophical charlatanry passing itself off as profound insight. This dismal
book, despite its account of the facts, represents but another apology for
Heidegger’s involvement with Nazism. It has nevertheless met with largely
positive reviews.

A typical example is Richard Rorty, who wrote, “Heidegger was oblivious of the
torment of his Jewish friends and colleagues, but after a year of hectic
propagandizing and organizing, he did notice that the Nazi higher-ups were not
paying much attention to him. This sufficed to show him that he had
overestimated National Socialism.
“So he retreated to his mountain cabin and, as Safranski nicely says, traded
decisiveness for imperturbability. After World War II, he explained,
imaginatively albeit monomaniacally, that Americanization, modern technology,
the trivialization of life and the utter forgetfulness of Being (four names, he
thought, for the same phenomenon) were irreversible
.”[20]
Once again we meet the quotidian figure of the well-meaning but bruised thinker
who “retreated to his mountain cabin.” At least this time we are spared another
return from Syracuse. We should point out that there is no basis even in Safranski’s book to draw the conclusion that Heidegger, after “a year of hectic
propagandizing and organizing,” his period as rector at Freiburg, “withdrew”
from the political fray. What Safranski does say is that over a period of
several years following his resignation as rector, Heidegger gradually loosened
his involvement with Nazism, without cutting them completely until 1945.
It turns out that Heidegger has defenders beyond the legion of French
deconstructionists. Rorty represents a tendency that has emerged in recent years
among American pragmatists, a tendency that has tried to amalgamate pragmatism
with elements of continental philosophy. In his capacity as something of a
public spokesman for American pragmatism, Rorty has above all sought to enlist
the followers of Heidegger to his cause.
In the following section we will
briefly examine the philosophical basis for this curious amalgam of two
seemingly disparate traditions. Yet even the most cursory examination reveals
that when Rorty focuses on the relationship between Heidegger’s politics and his
philosophy, we are served up with another version of the by now familiar theme
of Heidegger accidentally stumbling into Nazism.
In an essay that had been revised as recently as 1989, well after Farias’ book
was published, Rorty wrote that, “… Heidegger was only accidentally a Nazi.
He then expanded on this thought in a note with the following explanation, “His
[Heidegger's] thought was, indeed, essentially anti-democratic. But lots of
Germans who were dubious about democracy and modernity did not become Nazis.
Heidegger did because he was both more of a ruthless opportunist and more of a
political ignoramus than most of the German intellectuals who shared his
doubts.”[21]
Although Rorty tosses in some harsh words in Heidegger’s direction, to wit his
characterization of Heidegger the “ignoramus” and “opportunist,” the gist of his
presentation is another caricature of the naïve philosopher getting in over his
head. By this time, we have become quite familiar with this argument. We have
seen variations of it in Heidegger’s own apology for his term as rector, in the
orthodox defenders of Heidegger in France, in the reflections of personal
friends such as Hannah Arendt, and in its inverted pro-Nazi form in Nolte’s
biography. That this argument can be repeated ad nauseam, in the face of an
ever-mounting array of facts demonstrating that Heidegger’s relation to Nazism
was more than incidental, shows that we are dealing here not with an objective,
scholarly judgment, but with bad faith and apologetics.
The debate in France lasted for about two years following the publication of
Farias’ book in 1987. Nowadays, very little is heard in France about Heidegger’s
politics. In contrast, since the beginning of the 1990s the discussion has
continued unabated in the United States, Great Britain and other
English-speaking countries. In fact, three separate books have appeared on the
subject since 1997. Of these, Julian Young’s book, Heidegger, philosophy,
Nazism, is foursquare in the tradition of the Heideggerian whitewash. In fact,
the author announces his intentions right at the beginning, where he says that,
“This work aims to provide what may be described as a ‘de-Nazification’ of
Heidegger.”[22]
Tom Rockmore sums up the flavor of Young’s book in a recent review. Rockmore
writes, “In sum, according to Young, despite the many texts to the contrary (for
instance, the comment in the Spiegel-Gesprach, where Heidegger questions the
democratic ideal), the same philosopher turns out to be more or less like you
and me: to wit, a proponent of liberal democracy. This is to say not a credible
but an incredible picture of Heidegger …”[23]
It is evident that a quarter century following the death of Heidegger, the
cover-up still continues. At the same time, we do not wish to suggest that there
has been an absence of countervailing tendencies working to expose Heidegger’s
politics. In fact, we have seen just this past year the publication of what may
be the most important examination of Heidegger’s philosophy in the context of
his politics, namely Johannes Fritsche’s work, Historical Destiny and National
Socialism in Heidegger’s Being and Time
. We will comment on this book in the
next section.
Notes:
1. Martin Heidegger, “Letter to the Rector of Freiburg University, November 4,
1945, Wolin, p. 61
2. Martin Heidegger, “Letter to the Rector of Freiburg University, November 4,
1945, Wolin p. 64
3. Martin Heidegger, “Letter to the Rector of Freiburg University, November 4,
1945, Wolin, pp. 64-66
4. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
5. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
6. Sheehan, “Heidegger and the Nazis”
7. Denis Donoghue, “The Strange Case of Paul De Man,” New York Review of Books,
June 29, 1989
8. Richard Wolin, “French Heidegger Wars,” Wolin, p. 282.
9. Hannah Arendt, “Martin Heidegger at Eighty,” New York Review of Books,
October 21, 1971
10. Arendt, “Martin Heidegger at Eighty”
11. Tom Rockmore, On Heidegger’s Nazism and Philosophy, Berkeley: Univeristy of
California Press, 1992, p. 6
12. Arendt, “Martin Heidegger at Eighty”
13. Alan Milchman and Alan Rosenberg, “Heidegger, Planetary Technics, and the
Holocaust,” Milchman and Rosenberg, p. 222
14. Alan Milchman and Alan Rosenberg, “Heidegger, Planetary Technics, and the
Holocaust,” Milchman and Rosenberg, p. 224
15. Hans-Georg Gadamer, “Back From Syracuse?” Critical Inquiry 15(2): 1989, pp.
427-430
16. Cited in Thomas Sheehan, “A Normal Nazi,” New York Review of Books, January
14, 1993
17. Cited in Thomas Sheehan, “A Normal Nazi”
18. Cited in Thomas Sheehan, “A Normal Nazi”
19. Safranski, p. 421.
20. Richard Rorty, Rev. of Martin. Heidegger. Between Good and Evil, by Rüdiger
Safranski, New York Times Book Review, May 3, 1998
21. Richard Rorty, “Philosophy as Science, Metaphor, Politics,” Essays on
Heidegger and Others: Philosophical Papers, vol. 2, Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1991, p. 19
22. Julian Young, Heidegger, philosophy, Nazism. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1997, p. 1
23. Tom Rockmore, “Recent Discussion of Hediegger and Politics: Young,
Beistegui, Fritsche,” Graduate Faculty Philosophy Journal, vol. 21, no.2, 1999,
p. 53

Copyright 1998-2003
World Socialist Web Site
All rights reserved

—————————————————————————————————————

The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi Part 3: History, Philosophy and MythologyWorld
Socialist Web Site http://www.wsws.org

WSWS : Philosophy
The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi
Part 3: History, Philosophy and Mythology

By Alex Steiner

5 April 2000

We are posting today the concluding part of a series on the life and work of
twentieth century German philosopher Martin Heidegger.

Prior to a discussion of the philosophy of Martin Heidegger it seems necessary
to dispose of a possible objection
. This objection can be expressed as follows:
if it is true that the thought reflects the man, and if the man is known to be
morally and politically reprehensible, then the thinking behind the man must be
equally reprehensible. If that is the case, then we are in a position to render
judgment on someone’s thinking without actually reading what he wrote. When
stated in this way, the absurdity of this mode of thinking becomes self-evident.
The problem with this type of reasoning is that it takes what is a partial
truth, that indeed a thinker does in some way reflect the man and his times, and
transforms this insight one-sidedly into an absolute dictum such that it becomes
as false as it is true. In general, the relation between a thinker and his
action is far too complex to be summed up in a well-phrased maxim.
At the same time, we must reject the opposite, equally one-sided judgment, one
that has been championed by Heidegger apologists, that there is no relation
between a thinker and his politics. The proponents of this viewpoint often bring
up the example of Gottlob Frege, a vicious anti-Semite whose politics apparently
had no bearing on his technical work on logic. Yet even if one concedes that
there are cases—particularly in technical areas removed from political and
sociological concern—where theoretical work can be pursued unrelated to a
person’s biography or social status, it does not follow that such a dichotomy is
present in the work of any particular theorist. It would be particularly
surprising to find a discordance between the political activity of a man such as
Heidegger and his theorizing, knowing that his theorizing was itself intimately
concerned with personal and political activity.
Were we to follow either of these false paths in relation to Heidegger, we may
feel vindicated in our judgment of the man and his politics, but we would miss
an opportunity to learn something about how his philosophy influenced or was in
turned influenced by his politics. In particular we would be negligent in our
responsibility to account for a most remarkable phenomena of fin-de-siecle
bourgeois thought—namely, how is it that a philosopher who has been called by
many the greatest thinker of the twentieth century was in fact a Nazi? What does
this conjuncture say about the kind of philosophy practiced by Heidegger and his
followers? Most important of all, what does this say about the state of cultured
opinion at the dawn of the new millennium?
As an alternative to the pious banalities of those who would characterize
Heidegger as an innocent who “fell into error,” we will briefly survey the
history of thought with which Heidegger was engaged
. In doing so it will become
clear that Heidegger was neither naïve nor error-prone but, as he himself had
admitted, that his conversion to Hitlerism expressed the deepest principles of
his thought.

Broadly speaking, Heidegger appears within the framework of the Romantic
reaction to the Enlightenment and the French Revolution. Philosophically, both
the Enlightenment and the French Revolution had its most profound expression in
the work of George Friedrich Wilhelm Hegel. Hegel sought to overcome what he
viewed as the one-sidedness of the Enlightenment and the French Revolution while
at the same time defending their work as historically necessary for the
emergence of modern bourgeois society. Marx follows Hegel as a defender of the
Enlightenment and the French Revolution. Marx however also recognized that the
ideals of the French Revolution—liberty, equality and fraternity—are
incompatible with a society based on private property. Henceforth these ideals
could only be realized through the struggle for socialism
.
The year 1848 saw revolutionary movements break out throughout Europe. The
working class took its first steps as an independent political force
. This had
profound reverberations among all strata of society. Following the events of
1848, the philosophical reaction against Enlightenment rationality becomes more
conscious of its aims. If the original opposition to the Enlightenment in the
eighteenth century came from the monarchists, landholders and the church, the
nineteenth century saw a new wave of opposition to the legacy of the
Enlightenment emanating from those forces who felt most threatened by the
emerging bourgeois society. They looked back longingly to a mythical golden age
in a medieval past
.
In Germany especially where the bourgeoisie had still to establish its political
hegemony, the birth of political Romanticism found resonance among the peasantry
and the middle class, which felt most threatened by the democratic revolutions
that began to challenge the old order in the Europe of the 1840s. This played
into the hands of the dukes, princes and landholders who had no desire to share
political power. In 1841, 10 years after Hegel’s death, the Prussian authorities
brought in his former roommate and philosophical nemesis, Friedrich Schelling,
to lecture in Berlin.

With Schelling’s later philosophy we can say that the Romantic reaction against
the Enlightenment found its first philosophical voice
. Schelling sought to
replace the Enlightenment’s concern with reason, political freedom and social
equality with a rejection of reason in favor of revelation and elitist values
.
Schelling’s later system consecrated an appeal to myth and authority.
Consequent on the defeat of the 1848 revolution, the anti-rationalist tendencies
expressed in the later philosophy of Schelling found fertile ground
. The promise
of the French Revolution,
which seemed to inaugurate a new era in human history,
was transformed into the nightmare of Prussian reaction. Instead of celebrating
new possibilities, the prevailing spirit was one of resignation to a very
narrowly circumscribed avenue of political practice. The notion of freedom was
redefined subjectively, as an inner state that can be maintained despite the
vicissitudes of political life
. This was combined with a deep pessimism toward
the ability of human agents to create a more humane society. The name of Arthur
Schopenhauer will forever be linked to this strand of subjective idealism
.
There was a fundamental change in social conditions after 1848. Whereas
political Romanticism maintained a hostility to capitalism prior to 1848,
following the turmoil of that year, which saw the working class rise as an
independent political force for the first time, the political thrust of
Romanticism, particularly in Germany, was turned against the working class
. All
that remained of the anti-capitalist impulse of the earlier period of
Romanticism was a cultural critique of bourgeois mediocrity
.
Aristocratic and elitist values were championed as a safeguard against the
threat of the great leveling out of society introduced by democratic and
socialist impulses. Needless to say a palpable fear of the working class was
exponentially heightened following the events of the Paris Commune in 1871, in
which the working class for the first time briefly took power in its own hands
.
The mood of the German petty bourgeois immediately following the defeat of the
Paris Commune was captured in a letter written by Nietzsche
:
“Hope is possible again! Our German mission isn’t over yet! I’m in better spirit
than ever, for not yet everything has capitulated to Franco-Jewish leveling and
‘elegance’, and to the greedy instincts of Jetztzeit (‘now-time’)…. Over and
above the war between nations, that international hydra which suddenly raised
its fearsome heads has alarmed us by heralding quite different battles to
come.”
[1]
Nietzsche in particular plays a key role in our narrative for it is with him
that the Enlightenment project is literally turned on its head
. Nietzsche
appropriates the Enlightenment’s own critical weapon and turns it against the
Enlightenment. He begins by unmasking the relations of power lurking behind
claims to truth, a technique that was developed by the Enlightenment in its
struggle against religious superstition, and turns this against the
Enlightenment itself
. He concludes that all truth claims amount to nothing more
than exercises of the “will to power.
He reinterprets the entire history of
thought as an expression of a hidden will to power
.
According to this account, for the past two millennia we have witnessed the
“will to power” of Christianity guiding the fate of European culture. Nietzsche
despised the egalitarian movements for democratic reforms and socialism that
emerged in his time. He saw these modern political and social movements as
threatening the aristocratic values for which great civilizations and great
people (the overman) should strive
. He indicts Christianity, which he sees as
imbued with a “slave morality” for setting into motion a process which
culminates in the Enlightenment’s final unmasking of religious beliefs, an event
he called “the death of god.” The Enlightenment ushers in an age in which values
can no longer be grounded, an age of nihilism
.
It is in Nietzsche that the counter-Enlightenment finds its real voice. And it
is to this tradition that we should look in situating the philosophy of Martin
Heidegger. Heidegger himself in fact recognized Nietzsche quite correctly as a
kindred spirit
. But whereas Nietzsche saw himself as the prophet announcing the
coming of nihilism, Heidegger sees himself as the biographer of a mature
nihilism
. Heidegger’s views were formed in the deeply pessimistic atmosphere
engendered by Germany’s defeat in World War I. He was influenced by the
right-wing author Ernest Juenger, whose novels celebrated the steadfast,
resolute soldier meeting his fate in battle. Another important influence was
Oswald Spengler’s Decline of the West, a hysterical rant against socialism and
liberalism, which are indicted for corrupting the values of Western
civilization.

The immediate philosophical tradition from which Heidegger graduated was
inaugurated by Wilhelm Dilthey in the latter decades of the nineteenth century.
The trend launched by Dilthey has come to be known as Lebensphilosophie
(Philosophy of Life or Vitalism)
. Its practitioners include such disparate
thinkers as George Simmel, Oswald Spengler, Max Scheler and Karl Jaspers, as
well as the fascists Ludwig Klages, Alfred Baeumler and Ernst Krieck
.
Lebensphilosophie was not so much a specific philosophical doctrine as a certain
cultural mood that affected broad areas of the intelligentsia. It is
characterized by a sharp dichotomy between science and technology on one side,
versus the category of “Life” on the other
. For its ideological armaments
Lebensphilosophie borrowed the critique of scientific understanding from the
debates that were raging prior to 1848. Scientific understanding, thought of as
narrow and barren, was contrasted to “Experience” which gives us an intuitive
access to “Life.”
This appeal to immediate intuition which gradually becomes
more pronounced is what brands Lebensphilosophie as a form of irrationalism.
In his most important work, Being and Time, Heidegger sets out for himself the
heroic task of retrieving the history of metaphysics. Specifically, Heidegger
maintains that modern man has forgotten the meaning of the question of Being. He
says that in using the common word “is” we no longer know what we mean.
According to Heidegger, the subject-predicate logic which we use every day
conceals the true meaning of what existence really is. Heidegger claims that the
Greeks had an authentic experience of Being as “unconcealment.” But when Greek
philosophy was translated into Latin, it lost the richness of this primal
experience. The experience of Being was reified into a relation between a thing
and its properties. Heidegger sees his task as the retrieval of the original
meaning of Being which has been lost. From this vantage point he goes to war
against the entire history of Western philosophy following the Greeks.
The echoes of Nietzsche are here evident and they will become even more obvious
in Heidegger’s later philosophy. Like Nietzsche, Heidegger turns away from the
history of philosophy which he views as hopelessly compromised by a flawed model
of knowledge. His method of practicing philosophy also retraces the steps of
Nietzsche. He abandons discursive argumentation that try to convince an unbiased
reader by the force of their logic in favor of prophetic pronouncements and
etymological sleight-of-hand that aim at overpowering the reader.
In his later philosophy, Heidegger will go even farther in his repudiation of
the history of philosophy. He will claim that all philosophers after the
pre-Socratics have been guilty of falsifying and concealing some kind of primal
experience of Being. His program for retrieving the original meaning of Being
becomes transformed into a project aimed at the “destruction of metaphysics.”
Being and Time is preoccupied with a discussion of the meaning of death.
According to Heidegger, it is the imminence of death and our knowledge of it
that makes an “authentic” life possible. It is only when we live life at the
extreme, and confront our own mortality, that we are able to set aside the
inauthentic chatter of our day to day existence and come to terms with our true
selves. This theme, which Heidegger called our Being-towards-Death, is by no
means new in the history of thought. It is closely related to the meditations of
scores of religious writers from St. Augustine to Kierkegaard to Tolstoy.
Perhaps more to the point, however, Heidegger’s secularized meditation on the
imminence of death and the responsibilities that devolve to us as a result owe
more to the heroic literature of Ernest Juenger. It is the soldier above all who
is called upon to make a decision that will validate his life as he faces
imminent death. Heidegger’s category of “resoluteness,” which becomes so
important to existential philosophy, is rooted in the situation of the soldier
facing the enemy in the trenches in a hopeless struggle.
Many commentators have remarked that this feature of Heidegger’s thinking, his
emphasis on the need to make critical decisions determining ones fate,
illustrates the essentially apolitical quality of Heidegger’s philosophy.
Seemingly, one can choose to be either a Nazi, as Heidegger himself did, or a
member of the French resistance, as Sartre did, and still remain faithful to the
terms of an authentic existence. The completely empty character of the
categories of authenticity and resoluteness have been the subject of much
criticism. Habermas, for instance, characterized it as “the decisionism of empty
resoluteness.”[2] Heidegger is taken to task for lacking a criteria by which to
judge the worth of one decision against another. Given the accepted
interpretation of Heidegger, this criticism is correct as far as it goes.
However, a remarkable book that has just been published promises to turn upside
down the body of received opinion on the philosophy of Heidegger.
In his path-breaking work, “Historical Destiny and National Socialism” in
Heidegger’s Being and Time, Johannes Fritsche demonstrates that not only are the
categories discussed in Being and Time not apolitical, but on the contrary,
“When one reads Sein und Zeit in its context, one sees that, as Scheler put it,
in the kairos [crisis] of the twenties Sein und Zeit was a highly political and
ethical work, that it belonged to the revolutionary Right, and that it contained
an argument for the most radical group on the revolutionary Right, namely, the
National Socialists.”[3]
Fritsche’s point is that Heidegger’s idiom and use of language were part of a
shared tradition of right-wing thought that emerged in the 1920s in Germany. The
political content of Being and Time would have been clear to Heidegger’s German
contemporaries. However, to readers of the French and English translations that
circulated a generation or two later, this political content is completely
obscured. Instead as Fritsche mockingly puts it, “You see in Being and Time the
terrifying face of the old witch of the loneliness of the isolated bourgeois
subjects, or the un-erotic groupings in their Gesellschaft [society], and you
see the desire for a leap out of the Gesellschaft.”[4]
Sartre and the French existentialists adopted from Heidegger the themes of
loneliness and alienation as well as the corollary notion of a heroic and resolute voluntarism in the face of an absurd world. Fritsche maintains that
whatever the merits of their own works, the existentialists misunderstood
Heidegger. Fritsche’s argument for reading Heidegger as the philosopher of
National Socialism is impossible to summarize here. It relies on a very
sophisticated historical and philological analysis of the text of Being and
Time. After reconstructing the actual content of Being and Time, Fritsche
compares it with the writings of two other notorious right-wing authors who were
contemporaries, namely Max Scheler and Adolf Hitler. Fritsche demonstrates that
the political content of Being and Time and Mein Kampf are identical,
notwithstanding the fact that the first book was written by a world renowned
philosopher and the second by a sociopath from the gutters of Vienna.

One of the myths Fritsche exposes is that Heidegger’s notion of authenticity
bears some relationship to the traditional conception of individual freedom.
Fritsche demonstrates that for Heidegger achieving “authenticity” means
precisely the opposite of exercising freedom. Rather it means that one answers a
“call” to live life according to one’s fate. The fate whose call one must answer
has been preordained by forces that are outside the scope of the individual.
Answering the call is therefore the very anti-thesis of any notion of freedom.
In support of this thesis, Fritsche quotes the following passage from Being and
Time:
“ Dasein [Heidegger's term for human being] can be reached by the blows of fate
only because in the depths of its Being Dasein is fate in the sense we have
described. Existing fatefully in the resoluteness which hands itself down,
Dasein has been disclosed as Being-in-the-world both for the ‘fortunate’
circumstances which ‘comes its way’ and for the cruelty of accidents. Fate does
not arise from the clashing together of events and circumstances. Even one who
is irresolute gets driven about by these—more so than one who has chosen; and
yet he can ‘have’ no fate.”[5]
Fritsche comments on this passage as follows:
“First, far from being something a Dasein creates or changes or breaks, ‘fate’
exists prior to the Dasein and demands the latter’s subjugation. The point is
not how to create or break fate [which would be a typical existentialist
interpretation. A.S.]. Rather, the problem is whether a Dasein accepts, opens
itself for, hands itself down to, subjugates itself to, or sacrifices itself to
fate—which is what authentic Dasein does—or whether a Dasein denies fate and
continues trying to evade it—which is what ordinary, and therefore inauthentic
Dasein does.”[6]
Nor is the fate to which authentic Dasein must subjugate itself some sort of
existential angst. For Heidegger, fate had a definite political content. The
fate of the patriotic German was identified with the Volksgemeinschaft, a term
that was used polemically by the Nazis to denote a community of the people bound
by race and heritage. The idea of a Volksgemeinschaft was, in the right-wing
literature of the time, often counterposed to that of Gesellschaft, a reference
to the Enlightenment notion of a shared community of interests based on
universal human values. Continuing his analysis of authenticity, Fritsche
comments:
“In contrast to ordinary Dasein and inauthentic Dasein, authentic Dasein
…realizes that there is a dangerous situation, and relates itself to the
‘heritage.’ In so doing, it produces the separation between the Daseine that
have fate and those that do not, i.e., the inauthentic Daseine. In the next step
authentic Dasein realizes that its heritage and destiny is the
Volksgemeinschaft, which calls it into struggle…. After this, authentic Dasein
hands itself down to the Volksgemeinschaft and recognizes what is at stake in
the struggle…. Finally, authentic Dasein reaffirms its subjugation to the past
to the Volksgemeinschaft and begins the struggle, that is, the cancellation of
the world of inauthentic Dasein.”[7]
In characterizing the struggle for authentic Dasein as “a cancellation of the
world of the inauthentic Dasein,” Fritsche is being overly metaphorical. In
plain language, “the cancellation of the world of inauthentic Dasein” is a
reference to the fascist counterrevolution. It entails the destruction of
bourgeois democracy and its institutions, the persecution and murder of
socialists, the emasculation of all independent working class organizations, a
concerted and systematic attack on the culture of the Enlightenment, and of
course the persecution and eventual elimination of alien forces in the midst of
the Volk, most notably the Jews.
If Fritsche’s interpretation of Being and Time is correct, then it can likewise
serve to demystify the riddle of the relationship between Heidegger’s early
philosophy and his later conversion to a peculiar form of quietism. Many
commentators have been puzzled at the seemingly radical transition from a
philosophy based on activism, as the typical interpretation of Being and Time
saw it, to one rooted in the mystical resignation to one’s fate that
characterizes Heidegger’s later philosophy. Fritsche has shown, however, that
the early philosophy was anything but voluntarist. The notion of man
transforming his destiny in accordance with his will is a typical Enlightenment
motif that bears little resemblance to Heidegger’s vision. Rather, as Fritsche
has demonstrated, we do not so much transform our destiny as find what it is and
submit to it. Thus, the sense of resignation is already there in the early
philosophy. The transition therefore in the later philosophy is hardly as
radical as it has appeared.
We can add that there is nothing particularly unique in Heidegger’s theory of
authenticity as answering the call of one’s fate. A strikingly parallel
conception can be found in the work of another contemporary intellectual who
evinced sympathy for Nazism, the Swiss psychologist Carl Jung. Lecturing in
1935, Jung provides the following account of the relation between individual
volition and our collective fate:
“Our personal psychology is just a thin skin, a ripple upon the ocean of
collective psychology. The powerful factor, the factor which changes our whole
life, which changes the surface of our known world, which makes history, is
collective psychology, and collective psychology moves according to laws
entirely different from those of our consciousness. The archetypes are the great
decisive forces, they bring about the real events, and not our personal
reasoning and practical intellect…. Sure enough, the archetypal images decide
the fate of man. Man’s unconscious psychology decides and not what we think and
talk in the brain-chamber up in the attic.”[8]
If we substitute Jung’s vocabulary, grounded in his mythological appropriation
of psychology, with Heidegger’s philosophical categories, we will find an
essential congruence in the thought of Jung and Heidegger. For instance, if
“authentic Dasein” stands in for “man’s unconscious psychology” we will have
reconstructed another expression of Heidegger’s argument that fate is neither
created nor transformed by the conscious activities of men. Rather fate is a
pre-existing state, an archetype in Jung’s terminology, whose “call” on some
unconscious level, one is compelled to “answer” or risk the consequences of
inauthenticity.
The affinity between Heidegger’s thinking and Jung’s should not be interpreted
as a case of cross- pollination between philosophy and psychology. Rather, what
it does demonstrate is a shared outlook deriving from a common ideological
source. This common substratum is the Volkisch ideology that had been gestating
in Germany for a century prior to the development of Nazism. Whereas the
philosophers of the counter-Enlightenment paved the way for Volkisch ideology,
an eclectic assortment of ideologues were its actual authors. From the Romantic
reaction against the Enlightenment, to Nietzsche’s pronouncement that nihilism
is the culmination of Reason, the belief in progress and the perfectibility of
mankind through science and social evolution was successively undermined. These
moods resonated among those social forces that found themselves increasingly
displaced and marginalized by the industrialization of Germany in the latter
half of the nineteenth century. The rise of Volkisch ideology expressed the
fears of peasants, artisans and landowners squeezed between the pincer movements
of the bourgeoisie and the working class.
Ideologies emerge not only from the official philosophical schools, but are also
generated through an “underground” whose leading representatives are often
barely noticed by later historians. Heinrich Riehl (1823-97), a man who left no
trace in any history of philosophy text, was a seminal theorist of Volkisch
ideology. His book Land und Leute [ Places and People] argued that the inner
character of a people is completely intertwined with their particular native
landscape. Central to Riehl’s thinking and to Volkisch ideology thereafter is
the concept that certain classes or ethnic groups have an organic relationship
to the land and are thus “rooted” whereas others are “rootless” and cannot be
assimilated to the Volk. The historian George L. Mosse in his definitive history
of Volkisch ideology, provides a summary of this aspect of Riehl’s ideas:
“Yet for Riehl a third class, dangerous to the body politic and unfit to be
accommodated within Volkisch society, had come into being. This group,
identified as true ‘proletariat,’ consisted of the totally disinherited …
“What precluded the integration of the proletariat into the system of estates
was its instability, its restlessness. This group was a part of the contemporary
population which could never sink roots of any permanence. In its ranks was the
migratory worker, who lacking native residence, could not call any landscape his
own. There was also the journalist, the polemicist, the iconoclast who opposed
ancient custom, advocated man-made panaceas, and excited the people to revolt
against the genuine and established order. Above all there was the Jew, who by
his very nature was restless. Although the Jew belonged to a Volk, it occupied
no specific territory and was consequently doomed to rootlessness. These
elements of the population dominated the large cities, which they had erected,
according to Riehl, in their own image to represent their particular landscape.
However, this was an artificial domain, and in contrast to serene rootedness,
everything it contained, including the inhabitants, was in continuous motion.
The big city and the proletariat seemed to fuse into an ominous colossus which
was endangering the realm of the Volk …”[9]
Jung, having been philosophically predisposed towards Volkisch mythology,
expressed sympathy with Nazism in the immediate period after 1933. Unlike
Heidegger, however, Jung did not answer the “call” and never joined the Nazis.
It is perhaps not entirely coincidental that this unflattering period of Jung’s
biography, like that of Heidegger’s, although known for decades, has only
recently become the subject of critical scholarship.[10]

It is not too difficult to see how the themes of “rootedness” and “rootlessness”
appear in Being and Time as “authenticity” and “inauthenticity.” The Volkisch
strands in Heidegger’s thought combined with the irrationalist heritage of
Nietzsche to produce an eloquent statement of the social position of the petty
bourgeois in the period between the two world wars. In his study of the genesis
of irrationalist philosophy George Lukacs diagnosed the social psychology of the
time that created such an opening for Heidegger’s conceptualization:
“Thus Heidegger’s despair had two facets: on the one hand, the remorseless
baring of the individual’s inner nothingness in the imperialistic crisis; on the
other—and because the social grounds for this nothingness were being
fetishistically transformed into something timeless and anti-social—the feeling
to which it gave rise could very easily turn into a desperate revolutionary
activity. It is certainly no accident that Hitler’s propaganda continually
appealed to despair. Among the working masses, admittedly, the despair was
occasioned by their socio-economic situation. Among the intelligentsia, however,
that mood of nihilism and despair from whose subjective truth Heidegger
proceeded, which he conceptualized, clarified philosophically and canonized as
authentic, created a basis favourable to the efficacy of Hitlerian
agitation.”
[11]
Thus far, we have identified two strands in Heidegger’s thinking that form part
of a common substance with German fascism: philosophical irrationalism and the
appropriation of Volkisch mythology. A third ideological building block of
German fascism was the pseudo-science of racial theory rooted in a crude
biological determinism. To be sure, Heidegger’s thought never accommodated this
brand of crude racialism. For one thing, the philosophical traditions from which
biological racial theory derives, Social Darwinism and mechanistic reductionism,
were anathema to the tradition of Lebensphilosophie from which Heidegger
emerges. Lebensphilosophie, particularly in the hands of its later
practitioners, stressed the difference between Life and the natural sciences.
With Heidegger, it develops a distinctly anti-scientific animus. One might say
that Heidegger’s animosity toward science precluded any consideration of
racialist pseudo-science.
Some of Heidegger’s apologists have suggested that because Heidegger was opposed
to biologism he therefore could not have been a Nazi or an anti-Semite. If we
follow this line of thinking, we would be attributing entirely too much
significance to the role of biological racial theory for Nazism. As Tom Rockmore
has pointed out,
“Yet the antibiologism which Heidegger shared with many other intellectuals is
compatible with anti-Semitism and Nazism. Biologism was not as important to
Nazism, at least until well after National Socialism came to power, as the
traditional anti-Semitism strikingly present in, for instance, Luther’s works
and even in speeches before the German Reichstag, or parliament.”[12]
We may add that Heidegger was not above collaborating in common projects with
the vilest of the Nazi racists, despite his rejection of their crude philosophy.
Whatever philosophical differences Heidegger may have had with Alfred Rosenberg,
he was more than willing to attend international conferences as a representative
of the Third Reich and sit on the same dais with Rosenberg and his ilk.[13]
One can add the observation made by Lukacs, that official National Socialist
“philosophy” could never have gained a mass audience without years of
irrationalist culture paving the way.
“But for a ‘philosophy’ with so little foundation or coherence, so profoundly
unscientific and coarsely dilettantish to become prevalent, what were needed
were a specific philosophical mood, a disintegration of confidence in
understanding and reason, the destruction of human faith in progress, and
credulity towards irrationalism, myth and mysticism.”[14]
Perhaps then Heidegger’s biggest crime was not his enlistment in the Nazi Party
and assumption of the rectorship of Freiburg. These were merely political
crimes, of the sort committed by many thousands of yes-men. Perhaps his crime
against philosophy is more fundamental. Through it he contributed in no small
degree to the culture of barbarism that nourished the Nazi beast.
Danse Macabre: Heidegger, Pragmatism and Postmodernism
“This conceit which understands how to belittle every truth, in order to turn
back into itself and gloat over its own understanding, which knows how to
dissolve every thought and always find the same barren Ego instead of any
content—this is a satisfaction which we must leave to itself, for it flees the
universal, and seeks only to be for itself.”[15]
One of the most curious philosophical trends in the postwar period has been the
embrace of Heidegger by many left-leaning intellectuals. This is an
extraordinarily complex subject to which we can hardly do justice in the scope
of this presentation. We wish simply to sketch the epistemological kinship,
despite the historical differences, between Heidegger and his contemporary
sympathizers.
What has characterized the postwar intelligentsia in the West has been the
wholesale abandonment of any identification with Marxism, humanism or any
vestige of Enlightenment rationality. The hopes of a generation of radical
intellectuals were trampled underneath the weight of the failed revolutionary
movements of the late 1960s and early 1970s. It would be hard to underestimate
the impact on the French intelligentsia in particular of the failure of the
revolutionary upsurge of May-June 1968. Legions of former left intellectuals
began a wholesale retreat from the Enlightenment vision of an emancipatory
rationality. Their spirit of despair was summed up by the late Jean-Francois
Lyotard, the founder of postmodernism:
“We can observe and establish a kind of decline in the confidence that for two
centuries, the West invested in the principle of a general progress of humanity.
This idea of a possible, probable, or necessary progress is rooted in the belief
that developments made in the arts, technology, knowledge and freedoms would
benefit humanity as a whole …
“There is a sort of grief in the Zeitgeist. It can find expression in reactive,
even reactionary, attitudes or in utopias—but not in a positive orientation that
would open up a new perspective.”[16]
Lyotard’s personal history exemplifies the political and intellectual
transformation of an entire generation of radicals. In the 1950s and 1960s he
was on the editorial board of the radical journal Socialisme ou Barbarie. He was
an active participant in the events of May 1968. Following the restabilization
of the Gaullist regime after 1968, Lyotard turned against Marxism, which he
characterized, along with the Enlightenment notion of progress, as a “failed
metanarrative.”
Holding the attempt to encompass in thought the terrible recent history of our
time a failure, it was not a very big step for the postmodernists to appropriate
the irrationalist tradition that turned its back on the Enlightenment. This is
where the Heidegerrians, postmodernists, deconstructionists and neo-pragmatists
find a common ground. All these trends reject what they call the traditional
conceptual thinking, “Philosophy” or “Science” with capital letters.
Why did these disparate philosophical traditions gravitate to Heidegger’s notion
of a “thinking that is more rigorous than the conceptual”?[17]
They saw in Heidegger the intellectual apparatus that would take them beyond the
now suspect model of rationality that has been the hallmark of Western
philosophy for 2,500 years. Heidegger provided the anti-foundationalist approach
of Derrida, Rorty and others with a systematic critique of the history of
philosophy. The postmodernists, deconstructionists and pragmatists solemnly
accepted Heidegger’s diagnosis of the terminal state of Western thought when he
said, “What is needed in the present world crisis is less philosophy, but more
attentiveness in thinking; less literature, but more cultivation of the
letter.”[18]
The neo-pragmatist Richard Rorty comes to the identical conclusion when he
writes:
“If Philosophy disappears, something will have been lost which was central to
Western intellectual life—just as something central was lost when religious
intuitions were weeded out from among intellectually respectable candidates for
Philosophical articulation. But the Enlightenment thought, rightly, that what
would succeed religion would be better. The pragmatist is betting that what
succeeds the ‘scientific,’ positivist culture which the Enlightenment produced
will be better.”[19]
In a remarkable confession, Rorty himself explains the underlying sociological
imperative that has produced this sea-change in Western thought. In describing
the malaise that has passed over Western thought Rorty writes:
“It reflects the sociopolitical pessimism which has afflicted European and
American intellectuals ever since we tacitly gave up on socialism without
becoming any fonder of capitalism—ever since Marx ceased to present an
alternative to Nietzsche and Heidegger. This pessimism, which sometimes calls
itself ‘postmodernism,’ has produced a conviction that the hopes for greater
freedom and equality which mark the recent history of the West were somehow
deeply self-deceptive.”[20]
We thus witness the peculiar intellectual partnership between the post 1968
generation of disappointed ex-radicals with the ideas of the German radical
right of the 1920s. The warm reception for Derrida and French postmodernism in
the United States can be explained by a series of developments in the past three
decades that in many ways parallels the experiences of the French
intelligentsia. We have in mind the disillusionment that occurred when the heady
days of protest politics of the 1960s and early 1970s gave way to the
constricted cultural and political landscape of the Reagan administration.
Yet, what is the content of the new “thinking” about which Heidegger, Derrida
and Rorty speculate? We will look in vain in the works of Heidegger, Rorty,
Lyotard or Derrida for an explanation of what this new “thinking” is and how it
is “better” than a thinking grounded in an attempt to conceptualize an objective
world. At best, we are told to look at the work of poets and other artists whose
intuitive aesthetic view of the world is offered as a new paradigm of knowledge.
This explains the later Heidegger’s abandonment of the traditional philosophical
issues in favor of musings on the poetry of Hölderlin. We can discern a similar
trend in the works of the postmodernists and neo-pragmatists. Derrida for
instance has sought to redefine the philosophical enterprise as a form of
literary text. Rorty champions the “good-natured” novelists at the expense of
the sickly philosophers.[21]
Heidegger’s claim to point to a primordial “thinking” that is in some way a
return to a more authentic, uncorrupted insight is hardly new in the history of
philosophy. It is but a variation of the claim that immediate intuition provides
a surer basis for knowledge than the mediated sequence of concepts that brings
particulars into relation with universals. The attempt to grasp the bare
particular, uncorrupted by the universal, whether conceived of as “sense
perception” or a mystical access to the divine, has dogged philosophy for
centuries. In his own time, Hegel had to respond to the intuitionists who
opposed critical thought. Replying to these thinkers, he wrote, “what is called
the unutterable is nothing else than the untrue, the irrational, what is merely
meant [but is not actually expressed].”[22]
This comment, it seems to us, makes a perfect coda to Heidegger’s “thinking”
that is beyond philosophy. Heidegger’s “thinking” is not post-philosophic but
pre-philosophic. We have not so much overcome the history of metaphysics, as we
have regressed to a period in the history of thought prior to the emergence of
metaphysics, prior to the differentiation of science from myth and religion.
The pomposity and pretentiousness of Heidegger’s return to the archaic was
magnificently punctured by one of Heidegger’s earliest and most trenchant
critics, Theodore Adorno. Adorno highlighted the hidden assumption in
Heidegger’s thought, “the identification of the archaic with the genuine.”
Continuing this thought he wrote:
“But the triviality of the simple is not, as Heidegger would like it to be,
attributable to the value-blindness of thought that has lost being. Such
triviality comes from thinking that is supposedly in tune with being and reveals
itself as something supremely noble. Such triviality is the sign of that
classifying thought, even in the simplest word, from which Heidegger pretends
that he has escaped: namely, abstraction.”[23]
What practical results ensue from this kind of “thinking”? The non-mediated
perception leads one back to the “familiar.” The “familiar” is that which we
take for granted as being self-evidently true. It is the realm of historically
ingrained assumptions and class biases, those axioms of everyday life that are
accepted by ones friends and colleagues that make up the realm of the
“familiar.” The intuitionist is thereby a slave to the historically rooted
ideologies of his place and time, all the while thinking that he has overcome
all dogmas and prejudices. For Heidegger, the “familiar” is heavily invested
with the ideological stance of the Radical right, its shared mythology of a Volk
having a common destiny, the betrayal of the fatherland by the liberals and
socialists, etc. For the contemporary crop of postmodernists and
neo-pragmatists, it is possible to delineate a common set of beliefs that are
considered today’s intellectual coin of the realm. Among these one could mention
the following:
Rational discourse is incapable of encompassing the complexities and nuances of
(post)modern society. (The fact that such a statement is itself an example of
rational discourse and is therefore self-refuting does not seem to bother
proponents of this view.)
The notion of progress cannot be demonstrated in history. This is closely
related to a deep sense of skepticism about the possibility of harnessing
technology for the benefit of humanity.
The working class cannot play a revolutionary role. Some postmodernists
counterpose other forces to the working class. Others simply despair of any
possibility of a revolutionary transformation of society. Others even deny the
existence of the working class in contemporary society.
All, however, are united in their conviction that the prospect for socialism is
precluded in our time. It follows that Marxism is conceived as a hopeless
Utopian dream. This last conviction is uncritically adopted by all shades of
postmodernism, deconstruction and neo-pragmatism. It has the force of a new
dogma, one that remains completely unrecognized by its proponents.
Let us be clear. The defenders of Heidegger today are not, with a few notable
exceptions such as Ernst Nolte, supporters of fascism. What they see in
Heidegger is his attack on the history of rational thought. Like Heidegger, they
wish to return to a mythical past prior to the corrupting influence of Western
metaphysics. The politics of the “primordial thinkers,” those who would in
Hegel’s words, “flee the universal,” invariably leads to a politics that
elevates the immediate and fragmentary at the expense of the objective and
universal interests of humanity.
It is not accidental that the postmodernists have become supporters of various
forms of “identity politics,” grounded in subjectively conceived particularistic
interests, such as gender or ethnic group or even neighborhood. They oppose any
notion of a politics based on universal and objective class interests. This is
but a variation of Heidegger’s political position of the 1920s and 1930s in
which the reality of the mythical Volksgemeinschaft became the chief principle
around which political positions were formulated.
Finally, we wish to ask once more why has Heidegger been considered by many the
greatest philosopher of this century? We can certainly elucidate some reasons
why philosophers and others who have no sympathy for fascism, find his work
compelling. His work does evince a deep familiarity with the history of
philosophy and its problems. He also develops a very novel interpretation of
this history. At bottom, the content of his thought is neither profound nor
original. Judgments of this sort are not, however, based on the content of
Heidegger’s philosophy. They arise from the perceived lack of an alternative to
the spirit of nihilism that pervades our age. Heidegger more than anyone else in
the twentieth century gave voice to that spirit.
It is a spirit whose presence must be banished. The other of nihilism, the
spirit of hope and equality ushered in by the Enlightenment, is Marxism. We wish
to conclude with the words of the German Marxist, Walter Benjamin, himself a
victim of the Nazis. Commenting on Ernst Jünger’s book celebrating the fascist
aesthetic, War and Warriors, he wrote the following, at a time (1930) when the
fascist threat began to cast a very dark shadow:
“ Until Germany has exploded the entanglement of such Medusa-like beliefs …it
cannot hope for a future. …Instead, all the light that language and reason
still afford should be focused upon that ‘primal experience’ from whose barren
gloom this mysticism of the death of the world crawls forth on its thousand
unsightly conceptual feet. The war that this light exposes is as little the
‘eternal’ one which these new Germans now worship as it is the ‘final’ war that
the pacifists carry on about. In reality, that war is only this: the one,
fearful, last chance to correct the incapacity of peoples to order their
relationships to one another in accord with the relationships they posses to
nature through their technology. If this corrective effort fails, millions of
human bodies will indeed inevitably be chopped to pieces and chewed up by iron
and gas. But even the habitues of the chthonic forces of terror, who carry their
volumes of Klages in their packs, will not learn one-tenth of what nature
promises its less idly curious but more sober children, who possess in
technology not a fetish of doom but a key to happiness.”[24]
Notes:
1. Nietzsche to Baron von Gersdorff, June, 21, 1871, cited in George Lukacs, The
Destruction of Reason. Humanities Press, 1981, p. 325
2. Jurgen Habermas, The Philosophical Discourse on Modernity: Twelve Lectures,
trans. F Lawrence, Cambridge: MIT Press, 1978, p. 141
3. Johannes Fritsche, Historical Destiny and National Socialism in Heidegger’s
Being and Time, University of California Press, 1999, p. xv
4. Johannes Fritsche, pp. 218-19.
5. Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson,
New York: Harper and Row, 1962, p. 436
6. Johannes Fritsche, p. 65
7. Johannes Fritsche, p. 67
8. C.G. Jung, Analytical Psychology: Its Theory and Practice, New York, Vintage
Books, 1970, p. 183
9. George L. Mosse, The Crisis of German Ideology: Intellectual Origins of the
Third Reich, New York, Grosset and Dunlop, 1964, p. 22
10. Jung’s affinity for Volkisch mythology and anti-semitism is documented by
Richard Noll, The Jung Cult:Origins of a Charismatic Movement, Princeton,
Princeton University Press, 1994
11. George Lukacs, The Destruction of Reason, Humanities Press, 1981, p. 504
12. Tom Rockmore, On Heidegger’s Nazism and Philosophy, p. 111
13. Heidegger’s former student and friend, Karl Löwith met him while at a
conference in Rome in 1936. Löwith, a Jew by birth, had gone into exile after
1933. On the occasion of their meeting, Löwith asked Heidegger how he could sit
at the same table “with an individual like Julius Streicher.” Streicher, the
notorious editor of Der Sturmer, was admitted as a member of the board of the
Nietzsche Archive. Heidegger was a fellow board member. Löwith, in his memoirs,
reports that Heidegger’s response to his question about Streicher was to
“dismiss the rantings of the Gauletier of Franconia as political pornography.”
He insisted, however, on dissociating the Führer, Adolf Hitler, from Streicher.
[Hugo Ott, Martin Heidegger: A Political Life, Basic Books, 1993, p. 268]
14. Lukacs, p. 416
15. Hegel, 52, paragraph 80
16. “Notes on the Meaning of ‘Post’,” Jean-Francois Lyotard, Postmodernism a
Reader, edited by Thomas Docherty, New York, Columbia University Press, pp.
48-49
17. Martin Heidegger, “Letter on Humanism”, Basic Writings, edit. David Farrell
Krell, New York: Harper and Row, 1977, p. 235
18. Martin Heidegger, “Letter on Humanism”, Basic Writings, p. 242
19. Richard Rorty, Consequences of Pragmatism (Essays: 1972-1980), Minneapolis,
University of Minnesota Press, 1982, p. xxxviii
20, Richard Rorty, “Heidegger, Kundera and Dickens”, Essays on Heidegger and
Others, 67
21. “The important thing about novelists as compared with theoreticians is that
they are good at details”, Rorty, “Heidegger, Kundera and Dickens, p. 81
22, Hegel, 66, paragraph 109
23. Theodore W. Adorno, The Jargon of Authenticity, Northwestern University
Press, 1973, p. 51
24. Walter Benjamin, “Theories of German Fascism”, Selected Writings: Vol II.,
trans. Rodney Livingstone, Harvard University Press, 1999, pp. 320-21

Copyright 1998-2003
World Socialist Web Site
All rights reserved

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Two letters and two replies on “The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi”–Part 2World
Socialist Web Site http://www.wsws.org

WSWS : Philosophy
Two letters and two replies on “The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi”—Part 2

2 November 2000
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On April 3-5, 2000 the WSWS published a three-part series entitled, “The Case of
Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi.” Today we are posting the second of two
letters criticizing the articles, and a reply by the author of the series, Alex
Steiner.

To the editor,

I recently read and enjoyed Alex Steiner’s article on Heidegger and the Nazis.
Although there is much in this essay I would take issue with, I thought that the
section that drew upon Fritsche’s Historical Destiny and National Socialism in
Heidegger’s Being and Time was particularly interesting because it claimed to
have successfully achieved something new and exciting; to the effect that the
ideas of Being and Time were in some way an early expression of Heidegger’s
Nazism and of the horrors of the Third Reich. However, I have looked at the
Heidegger passages that Fritsche quotes from and which Steiner included and I
have considered what the significance of these might be. Having done so I am now
less than convinced that any thing theoretically new has been said. I haven’t
read Fritsche’s book but I am presuming that the passages that are quoted from
by Alex Steiner and Fritsche’s analysis of these Heidegger passages are the
“high point” of the study? Although I have nothing theoretically new to offer
either, and at some considerable risk of being branded yet another Heidegger
apologist, I thought it perhaps worth restating some clear intellectual
boundaries that should continue to be maintained in my view and especially
where, as in the case of Alex Steiner’s piece, such boundaries appear to have
been abused. In my view Alex Steiner’s survey of the current literature on the
“Heidegger case” provokes three related questions:
(1) To what extent were Heidegger’s ideas a part of the milieu in which he
wrote, i.e., those of the 1920s and the Weimar Republic?
(2) To what extent are Heidegger’s ideas uniquely his own and which were shared
by others, e.g., Hitler in Mein Kampf, and so forth?
(3) To what extent might Being and Time contain material of interest to
philosophers today?
This list of questions is not meant to be in any way comprehensive, in fact
these are really positive and negative ways of addressing the same issues. My
point in restating these is that I simply want to indicate that I don’t think
that Alex Steiner’s intervention has been decisive with regard to these
questions. What Steiner, Fritsch and the others that he mentions have
demonstrated to date is that there was a language of Weimar struggle and
decisionism, (and I would hold that this language was neither exclusively the
property of those on the left or right), and that Heidegger may have shared some
of that language. The literature on the subject has also clearly demonstrated
that Heidegger was a card-carrying member of the Nazi party and that he carried
out Nazi reforms when he was in a position to do so, and with some enthusiasm.
As for his qualities as a human being? This does not interest me.
What I have yet to see, however, is a clear demonstration that the meaning of
Heidegger’s philosophy, and that the text of Being and Time, have anything in
common with either the full development of Nazi ideology or with the actual
policies and political direction taken by the Third Reich under the Nazis. Or
even that there is any necessary connection between that text and these events.
I will not attempt to answer Alex Steiner’s essay in detail for I am really not
qualified to answer him given my limited command of German. However, I do
believe I have some idea of what an answer to some of these questions might
begin to look like. For example, that the period was an extraordinary time and a
tremendous trial of world-historical specificity for all concerned was widely
understood at the time, and it certainly appeared to be a time for “decisions”,
in the view of many.
Ernest Hemingway once wrote (while the exchange rate was running at 7000 marks
to the $), about a “swinish spectacle” in Strasbourg on September, 19, 1922,
(presumably while Being and Time was being composed some miles south):
“the youth of the town of Strasbourg crowd into the German pastry shop to eat
themselves sick and gorge on fluffy, cream-filled slices of German cake at 5
marks the slice.
“In a pastry shop we visited, a man in an apron, wearing blue glasses, appeared
to be the proprietor. [...] The place was jammed with French people of all ages
and descriptions, all gorging cakes, while a young girl in a pink dress, silk
stockings, with a pretty, weak face and pearl earrings in her ears took as many
of their orders for fruit and vanilla ices as she could fill.
“[...] The proprietor and his helper were surly and didn’t seem particularly
happy when all the cakes were sold. The mark was falling faster than they could
bake.
“As the last afternoon tea-ers and pastry-eaters went Strasbourg-wards across
the bridge the first of the exchange pirates coming over to raid Kehl for cheap
dinners began to arrive. The two streams passed each other on the bridge and two
disconsolate-looking German soldiers looked on” ( The Faber Book of Reportage,
edited by John Carey, Faber and Faber, 1996, pp. 497-501).
The sense of impending crisis is palpable in this extract, and one is left with
the impression that Hemingway’s sympathies are entirely with the German baker
and not with the “good fortune” and gluttony of the French, who are seen to be
extracting their pound of flesh. Only a few years later the Italian Marxist
Antonio Gramsci, writing from his prison cell, was forced to reflect on the
notion of Mussolini as the “modern Caesar”, a term often used at that time to
describe the nature and ambition of the fascist project. While Gramsci harbours
no illusion that Mussolini’s particular project is “world-historical” in the
sense that Napoleon Bonaparte’s may have been, yet he identifies the difficulty
of making a decision as to the historical specificity of the movement.
“Caesarism—although it always expresses the particular solution in which a great
personality is entrusted with the task of ‘arbitration’ over a
historico-political situation characterised by an equilibrium of forces heading
towards catastrophe—does not in all cases have the same historical significance.
There can be both progressive and reactionary forms of Caesarism” (Gramsci, A.,
Selections From The Prison Notebooks, L&W, pp. 219-20).
Gramsci’s conclusions were ambiguous, the nature of modern Caesarism was
changing and consent was being mobilised by elite groups in new ways.
Nevertheless, to the modern democratic ear there is surely something unnerving
in the notion that some form of “dictatorship” by a “strong personality”, could
be acceptable under any circumstances, whether by an individual or by a party of
either the left or right. Much has changed since the 1920s and today it seems
obvious that all politics must operate within the law. Although many still hold
that violence is coeval with capitalist relations of production, few would see
further unlawful violent action as warranted. Such was the political tumult of
the 20s in Europe, one could pick out any number of intellectuals of this period
and the fact is that apart from a few principled defenders of
parliamentarianism, such as Max Weber and Piero Gobetti, few were prepared to
speak out against violent political methods. As Gramsci himself was to discover
to his cost, neither left nor right looked principally to the rule of law or to
representative democracy as a system particularly suited to the times in which
they lived. In short, Heidegger’s apparent disregard for the norms of democratic
conduct, and his support of political thuggery were relatively normal during the
period and this was not a phenomenon confined to supporters of right-wing
causes.
Returning to the second question and the obsession with national destiny,
rebirth and “Volkish” culture. In fact, here I think that Alex Steiner and
Fritische let Heidegger off rather lightly since Heidegger is much more explicit
about “Volk” and “fate” than the passage quoted from suggests. For example, over
the page from the quote on fate and Being-in-the world is the following:
“if fateful Da-sein essentially exists as being-in-the-world in being with
others, its occurrence is an occurrence-with and is determined as destiny. With
this term, we designate the occurrence of the community, of a people. Destiny is
not composed of individual fates, nor can being-with-one-another be conceived of
as the mutual occurrence of several subjects. These fates are already guided
beforehand in being-with-one-another in the same world and in the resoluteness
of definite possibilities. In communication and in battle the power of destiny
first becomes free. The fateful destiny of Da-sein in and with its “generation”
constitutes the complete, authentic occurrence of Da-sein” (Heidegger, M., Being
and Time, trans. by Joan Stambaugh, 1996, p. 352).
This damming passage provides a good clear example of the “Heidegger problem”,
here then we have all of Heidegger’s most reprehensible political engagements in
one passage, the Volksgemeinschaft, Destiny, fate and surrender, authenticity
and struggle through “communication” and “battle”. I bring your readers’
attention to this passage because it is the most damaging that I can find in the
work, and certainly it is the most concrete and unambiguous example of his
mythic “Volkishnish” that I can locate. (I do not have a German copy of Being
and Time. Thus everything I have to say about it can only be provisional). Yet,
we must surely ask who are the “Volk” in Heidegger’s lexicon?
Heidegger was quite clear about his intended subjects, thus he said regarding
“The answer to the question of the who of everyday Da-sein is to be won through
the analysis of the kind of being in which Da-sein, initially and for the most
part, lives”. Heidegger continues, “If we justifiably stated that all structural
factors of being-in-the-world already came into view by means of the previous
explication of the world, the answer to the question of the who must also be
prepared by that explication”. In other words, in a typical phenomenological
move “the who” of really “authentic” Da-sein is to be revealed by “authentic”
Da-sein itself provisionally until the end of the story. Thus the beginning or
“natural attitude” is to be found in the “work-world of the handworker” and in:
“The field, for example, along which we walk ‘outside’ shows itself as belonging
to such and such a person who keeps it in good order, the book which we bought
at such and such a place, given by such and such a person, and so on. The boat
anchored at the shore refers in its being-in-itself to an acquaintance who
undertakes his voyages with it, but as a ‘boat strange to us’, it also points to
others” ( Being and Time, 1996, pp. 110-111).
According to Heidegger the “world” is also Da-sein through the intentions of the
“handworker” who made it. Thus the choice of those who enjoy this primordial
relationship is of crucial significance. Any worker who relates to the world
through technology, “the wind in the sails”, is operating upon the world at one
or more steps removed from authenticity. Thus Heidegger is not addressing the
“little people” of the modern urban Nazi conurbation, the failed artist, the
bank clerk, the gasoline salesman or the schoolteacher. Rather Heidegger is
addressing the baker, the farmer, the bookseller and the fisherman. Heidegger
has a special place in his philosophy for the provincial craftsmen who embody
the rustic simplicity and purity that is “care”, that which can beget really
authentic Da-sein, and these types work at a pace that allows them to “know
their fate”. This is hardly the stuff of the high-octane Nazi state or of the
rabid modernity (and social democracy) of Hitler’s Mein Kampf. Rather,
Heidegger’s politics are more like the kind of reactionary rural conservatism
promoted by the Countryside Alliance here in the UK, or other forms of rustic
authoritarian conservatism. As Tom Rockmore has suggested, Heidegger is really a
German “redneck”.
Of course, the “other”, such as the Gypsy or the cosmopolitan European Jew, are
likely to be out of place in Heidegger’s Alpine idyll, but political activism in
defence of these provincial values is not circumscribed by anything that is said
in Being and Time. Such a defence of provincialism might well indeed imply the
need to emasculate bourgeois democracy, socialists and other working class
organisations. Such a defence may even imply a need to systematically attack the
culture of the European Enlightenment, but why must it entail, as Alex Steiner
has suggested, the “persecution and murder of socialists” or the “persecution
and eventual elimination” of alien forces in the midst of the Volk? As South
African Apartheid once demonstrated, or even as recent events in the former
Yugoslavia have indicated, once one accepts the perverse logic of “ethnic
cleansing” there are any number of ways to solve the “problem” of the “other”.
They might be corralled into “reservations”, or driven from their homes by
intimidation and harassment, they might be refused work or have their identity
papers taken from them, and so on. Of course, once such perverse logic takes
hold it might appear to be a short, inevitable and terrible step to the next, as
it was in the case of the “holocaust”, but the fact is that there is no
necessary step from that kind of political behaviour, repugnant though it might
be to all decent people, to the systematic mass murder of millions of people in
modern factories of death. To accuse Heidegger of such a move in Being and Time
does not do justice to his immense philosophical labour in defence of
provincialism and anti-modernism, nor to the horrors and historical specificity
of the “holocaust” and its causes.
JG
Alex Steiner replies:
It is refreshing to receive a letter that discusses the relationship of
Heidegger’s philosophy and his politics on the terrain in which it should
emerge—through an examination of what Heidegger actually wrote and did in the
context of his historical situation. I welcome the opportunity to return to the
text of Being and Time as part of this examination. That being said, the method
by which you chose to weigh the relationship between Heidegger’s words and
National Socialism leaves us with but another form of an apology for Heidegger.
Before plunging into the main theme of your letter you prepare the ground by
relativizing Heidegger within his historical situation. The problem is that the
historical situation you present is completely abstract, divorced from any
consideration of the real historical developments. You simply see a “Right” and
a “Left” which turn their backs to the “rule of law.” You write that
“Heidegger’s apparent disregard for the norms of democratic conduct and his
support of political thuggery were relatively normal during the period and this
was not a phenomenon confined to supporters of right-wing causes.” Your argument
has the effect of normalizing Heidegger. By claiming that he was acting like
everyone else in his historical situation, you conclude that his actions were
not exceptional. This argument is a kind of magician’s trick—apply it to anyone
and his or her culpability disappears.
But Heidegger did not act like everyone else. Although many German intellectuals
disgraced themselves in this period, others did not. A large number of German
intellectuals and artists, including world-renowned figures such as Einstein,
went into exile. In effect, they voted against the Third Reich in the only way
they could vote, with their feet. They included Jews and socialists within their
ranks as well as liberal opponents of fascism such as Thomas Mann. Heidegger on
the other hand joined the Nazi party, accepted the position of rector under Nazi
sponsorship, and later of Führer of Freiburg University. During this period he
engaged in acts of political persecution against colleagues and personal rivals
and became a public spokesman for the Nazi cause at international academic
gatherings. Furthermore, Heidegger did not become a Nazi reluctantly, as some
opportunists did, but by all accounts he was an enthusiastic party member. Do
you really mean to say that such behavior is in any sense of the word “normal”?
If so, then what is considered “normal” is being dictated by the lowest level of
society.
Proceeding to the main body of your letter, let us examine your method as you
yourself describe it. First, after acknowledging Heidegger’s debt to what you
call “the language of Weimar struggle and decisionism,” and acknowledging
Heidegger’s personal involvement in Nazism, you then make the point that I have
failed to prove my case—namely that there is a deep and intimate connection
between Heidegger’s philosophy and his Nazism because, you claim, I have failed
to present “…a clear demonstration that the meaning of Heidegger’s philosophy
and the text of Being and Time has anything in common with either the full
development of Nazi ideology or with the actual policies and political direction
taken by the Third Reich under the Nazis. Or even that there is any necessary
connection between the text and these events?”
You make two claims in objecting to my essay. First, you insist that I have
failed to demonstrate a necessary connection between Heidegger’s philosophy and
his politics. Second, you claim that I do not show where specific Nazi policies
flow out of Heidegger’s texts.
Philosophy and Politics: A Necessary Connection?
Allow me to turn the tables momentarily and put a question to you. What kind of
evidence would you accept as sufficient proof that “Heidegger’s philosophy and
the text of Being and Time” is of a piece with “the full development of Nazi
ideology” as you put it? In my essay, I provided a textual analysis that
demonstrated this “connection.” You chose however to demand a criterion for
demonstrating the connection that is in principle impossible to fulfill. You
demand not only that any connection must be shown to be “necessary,” but that I
must locate the specific policies of National Socialism in the text of Being and
Time. That, I agree, would be quite a trick were it possible.
What I wrote in my essay was that the content of Being and Time is consistent
with Heidegger’s later decision to become an active member of the National
Socialist Party. This does not mean that having written Being and Time in 1927,
it was somehow inevitable that Heidegger would become a Nazi six years later.
The political evolution of an individual always has a contingent element.
Heidegger could have had a philosophical transformation and turned his back on
Nazism. Max Scheler, another right-wing philosopher who was active in the 1920s,
did just that. During his last years of active engagement, he abandoned his
previous right-wing militarist views and became a supporter of the political
center in the Weimar Republic.
By insisting that the only genuine proof of the link between Heidegger’s
thoughts and his actions is that the former must logically entail the latter,
you are preparing to absolve Heidegger’s philosophy with the argument that it
was merely accidentally connected to Nazism. You are however setting up a
standard that goes counter to all accepted norms of historical research. This
very point was made by Berel Lang, a scholar who has recently written about
Heidegger’s relationship to the holocaust. Replying to others who have presented
arguments similar to yours, he writes:
“…I have not been claiming that Heidegger’s turn to the mediating form of the
Volk —still more to the German Volk,—is systematically entailed. But to impose a
requirement of necessary connection or implication between the level or branches
or elements of philosophical systems would ensure the failure of virtually all
such systems, including the most complex or historically important among them.
The relevant standard here should be—and constantly has been—one of disposition
or probability in respect to positions or claims that the system either excludes
or includes. In this sense the minimal claim for Heidegger’s conception of the
Volk —that it is not inconsistent with other systematic elements of his
thinking—or beyond this, that it is likelier or more probable than other
alternatives, claims a good deal. Must Heidegger invoke this mediating form or
indeed any such form? No, but there is little among the levels of almost any
philosophical system that would meet such a requirement.”[1]
Where are the policies in the philosophy?
Your next grievance is that my essay fails to show the connection between the
“… text of Being and Time …with either the full development of Nazi ideology
or with the actual policies and political direction taken by the Third Reich
under the Nazis.”
Here I must ask, are you imposing a reasonable criterion? I would hardly expect
to find a defense of specific policies adopted by the Nazis after 1933 in a book
whose theme is metaphysics and ontology written in 1927. That would simply be a
bit more than the subject could bear. Ought we not be allowed to distinguish
between advocating specific policies, which a book whose topic purports to be
“fundamental ontology” would hardly undertake, and the broader Weltanschaung
that is painted by this philosophy? Furthermore, there is more in Heidegger’s
philosophy than just a general adoption of the spirit of the radical right in
the 1920s. I have previously referred to the philological work of Johannes
Fritsche, who has demonstrated a specific connection between Heidegger’s
philosophical oeuvres and Nazism. He has shown that Heidegger inserted certain
rhetorical code words into his works whose echoes were distinctly those of the
Nazis.
Were you to apply your criteria with any degree of consistency, then I think you
would have a tough time demonstrating a necessary connection between Nazism and
anything written in the 1920s, including Mein Kampf. Even Hitler did not and
could not know every twist and turn that Nazism would take in the following
decade, though of course the basic direction of his murderous course was clear
enough. Likewise, I would maintain, the basic direction of Heidegger’s thinking
was already announced in Being and Time.
Furthermore, I think it is significant that Heidegger himself, after the period
of his rectorship, interpreted his previous philosophical works, retrospectively
to be sure, as having prefigured the specific politics of Nazism as it emerged
after 1933. Thus, I would view Heidegger’s public speeches during his rectorship
period as his own concretization of the categories developed in Being and Time
in terms of the specific policies of National Socialism. In his speech assuming
the rectorship, Heidegger paints the destiny of the German University and of the
German people as a whole, in terms that are recognizably both consistent with
National Socialist policies and propaganda and also echo his existential
categories from Being and Time. One example should suffice:
“The self-assertion of the German University is the original, common will to its
essence. We regard the German University as the ‘high’ school which from science
[Wissenschaft] and through science, educates and disciplines the leaders and
guardians of the fate of the German Volk as a Volk that knows it in its state.
Science and German fate must come to power at the same time in the will to
essence. And they will do this then and only then when we—the teachers and
students—expose science to its innermost necessity, on the one hand, and, on the
other, when we stand firm in the face of German fate extreme in its
distress.”[2]
The man behind the text
A further point needs to be made here. Although the textual evidence should be
the primary source from which we formulate our judgments as to Heidegger’s
philosophical direction, there is no reason to limit ourselves solely to this
type of material. Public and private actions recorded in the letters or memoirs
of contemporaries are also legitimate building blocks for an overall
interpretation. I am therefore puzzled by your facile dismissal of the
activities of Heidegger the man, which hold no interest for you. Whereas I would
agree that it is illegitimate to formulate an opinion on the thinking of the man
solely from our knowledge of his political involvement, it does not follow that
his “extra-philosophical” public and private activity is of no relevance. On the
contrary, our knowledge of Heidegger’s personal involvement with Nazism and his
anti-Semitism provide a crucial backdrop to informing our understanding of his
thinking when carefully weighed in with his philosophical works.
In this connection, I would think that a particularly important piece of
evidence to assess would be Heidegger’s own statement of the relationship
between his philosophy and his politics, as candidly described to an old friend
and recorded in his memoirs. Karl Löwith has told us that when he met Heidegger
in Rome in 1936 the latter admitted that Nazism expressed the deepest principles
of his philosophy as expounded in Being and Time. Löwith writes of his meeting
with Heidegger,
“We talked about Italy, Freiburg, and Marburg, and also about philosophical
topics. He was friendly and attentive, yet avoided, as did his wife, every
allusion to the situation in Germany and his views of it.”
“On the way back, I wanted to spur him to an unguarded opinion about the
situation in Germany. I … explained to him that I … was of the opinion that
his partisanship for National Socialism lay in the essence of his philosophy.
Heidegger agreed with me without reservation, and added that his concept of
‘historicity’ was the basis of his political ‘engagement’. He also left no doubt
concerning his belief in Hitler.”[3]
Löwith’s report cannot be easily dismissed. He was, prior to his exile from Nazi
Germany, Heidegger’s senior student and close personal friend and was more
intimately acquainted with the inner thoughts of his teacher than just about
anyone else. Heidegger’s admission to Löwith cannot therefore be construed as
simply an off the cuff remark, but one that must have been carefully considered.
It is of course possible to argue that Heidegger’s own interpretation of his
philosophy is mistaken, but should we not at least consider it carefully? Yet
you have nothing to say either about this well-known incident or any other
historical action of the man you are examining.
The text and nothing but the text
When you do discuss the text, you claim to have found an even more damning bit
of right-wing vitriol than any cited in my article. But it was never my purpose
to collect the most outrageous quotations from Being and Time. The passages from
Heidegger’s work that I did cite are more than sufficient to illustrate my
thesis. However, if you are looking for selections from Heidegger’s
philosophical writings that express his politics, there are plenty to be had.
Following is a sample of some of Heidegger’s more heavy-handed statements:
“Only from the Germans can world historical mediation come—provided that they
find and defend what is German.”[4]
“The peril of world … darkening … [will] be forestalled [only] if our nation
in the center of the Western world is to take on its historical mission.”[5]
“We are caught in a pincers. Situated in the middle, our Volk experiences the
severest pressure. It is the Volk with the most neighbors and hence the
most—endangered—and with all this, the metaphysical Volk. We are certain of this
mission. But the Volk will only be able to realize that destiny if within itself
it creates a resonance … and takes a creative view of its heritage. All this
implies that this Volk, as a historical Volk, must move itself and thereby the
history of the West beyond the center of their future ‘happening’ and into the
primordial realm of the powers of Being.”[6]
“Reflection on the Volk is an essential stage…. An uppermost rung of Being
will be attained if a ‘ Volkisch principle,’ as something determinative, is
mastered and brought into play for historical Da-sein.”[7]
All these statements are taken, not from ceremonial public speeches, but from
his serious philosophical works written in the 1930s.
An alpine idyll?
Whereas your letter acknowledges the right-wing political content of Being and
Time, you claim that there is nothing more sinister in this than a misguided and
romantic defense of rural life against the intrusions of the modern world.
Anyone who reads the above passages with any felicity, even if they were totally
ignorant of Heidegger’s personal involvement with Nazism, could hardly construe
this material as evocative of sentimental attachment to the countryside and
old-fashioned values. Instead of Heidegger providing us with harmless nostalgia
about the mountains of the Black Forest, as you suggest, we have something more
akin to a Wagnerian twilight of the gods. Only this drama is not meant for the
theater at Bayreuth, but for the gallery of world history.
Your depiction of Heidegger as a harmless romantic conservative simply will not
stand up to the textual evidence. You contrast Heidegger’s “concern” for the
rural craftsman with “the rabid modernity (and social democracy) of Hitler’s
Mein Kampf.” By painting Heidegger as a conservative concerned with peasant
life, you seriously misinterpret Heidegger’s role within the political situation
in Germany in the 1920s and 1930s. Throughout this period, there was a big
divide on the right between the mainstream right-wing parties who represented
big business and the Junker interests, and the Radical right, comprising the
Volkisch groups and the fascists, whose base was among the disenfranchised
middle classes and unemployed war veterans.
We know of course that by 1933 all the right-wing parties lined up behind Hitler
and thereby sealed the fate of Germany, but that should not blind us to the very
real ideological and social antagonisms that existed between the groups on the
right. Of the many groups in the camp of the Radical right, the Nazis were by
1923, following the abortive beer-hall putsch in Munich, the most prominent. All
the groups on the right shared an animus toward the working class and its
political organizations, the Social Democrats and the Communists. They also were
suspicious of the Weimar Republic, which to the nationalists could never be
disentangled from the traitors who handed Germany over to its enemies with the
signing of the Versailles Treaty.
What distinguished the Radical right and particularly the Nazis, was the firm
belief in a national destiny, a community of the people “ Volksgemeinschaft”
that could only be realized by canceling the institutions of parliamentarism and
modernism that had been imposed on the German people. These institutions were
viewed as a kind of alien skin that had to be removed in order to recreate an
ideal community bound by race and blood. The task of undoing the hated regime
must be taken up by authentic heroes, cut from the same mold as Albert
Schlageter. Schlageter was a member of the Freikorps, a right-wing terrorist
group that carried out acts of violence against socialists and Jews. He was
captured by the French authorities, who had occupied the Rhineland in 1923,
convicted of conducting acts of sabotage, and subsequently executed. Thereafter
he became a martyr for the Nationalist cause. After their accession to power the
Nazis established a holiday in his honor. For Heidegger, Schlageter served as
the model of the authentic Dasein who answers the “call.” Listen to Heidegger’s
declamation on the subject of Schlageter, from a speech he gave shortly after
assuming the rectorship of Freiburg:
“Schlageter walked these grounds as a student. But Freiburg could not hold him
for long. He was compelled to go to the Baltic; he was compelled to go to Upper
Silesia; he was compelled to go to the Ruhr.
“He was not permitted to escape his destiny so that he could die the most
difficult and greatest of all deaths with a hard will and a clear heart.”[8]
Note that Schlageter, the authentic hero, does not so much chose his destiny as
submit to a call. He does not decide to go to the Baltic, he is compelled to do
so. Compare this with the following passage from Being and Time and in which
Heidegger elaborates on his concept of the “authentic”.
“Once one has grasped the finitude of one’s existence, it snatches one back from
the endless multiplicity of possibilities which offer themselves as closest to
one—those of comfortableness, shirking, and taking things lightly—and brings
Dasein into the simplicity of its fate. This is how we designate Dasein’s
primordial historizing, which lies in authentic resoluteness and in which Dasein
hands itself down to itself, free for death, in a possibility which it has
inherited and yet chosen.”[9]
Like Schlageter, authentic Dasein does not choose, but “hands itself down” to a
“possibility which it has inherited but yet chosen.” Only authentic Dasein is
capable of responding to the “call” and caring about the peasant and the
“hand-worker”, even in the face of death. On the other hand, inauthentic Dasein,
those who are caught up in the everyday world of the Weimar Republic, in the
life of “comfortableness, shirking and taking things lightly”, turn their back
on the call and are thereby condemned to a life exiled from the community of the
people.
Once Heidegger’s concepts of “authenticity”, “care”, the “call” are read in
conjunction with an appreciation of the ideology of the Radical right the
mystery disappears. Central to Heidegger and the Radical right was the concept
of “cancellation”. This more than anything else distinguishes the dynamics of
Heidegger and fascism from that of more traditional conservative movements. The
term is a reference to the fascist counterrevolution, that which the Nazis
called the National Revolution. The cancellation is not simply a return to an
uncorrupted past, but it is a retrieval of the authentic community that once
existed by way of the destruction of the institutions and people that have
corrupted it. In that sense it is the very opposite of a Hegelian sublation, a
leap to something new that simultaneously preserves what was best of the old.
The Heideggerian cancellation sees nothing of value to preserve. There has been
no progress leading up to the present. There has been only corruption and
degeneration. The uncorrupted state can only be regained through heroic and
violent actions, a baptism of fire. In Being and Time this conception is
explicitly treated in the dramatic climax of the book.
In order to be authentic, we must retrieve the possibilities from the past, the
community that has been eclipsed by the modern world. We must become heroes,
like Albert Schlageter, and make a decision for that which has already been
chosen for us by our heritage. Elsewhere, Heidegger says that “…the handing
down of a heritage constitutes itself in resoluteness.”[10] Further on in this
key section, we find the following passage:
“…repetition makes a reciprocative rejoinder to the possibility of that
existence which has-been-there. But when such a rejoinder is made to this
possibility in a resolution, it is made in a moment of vision; and as such it is
at the same time a disavowal of that which in the ‘today’, is working itself out
as the ‘past’.”[11]
It is one of the outstanding merits of the work of Johannes Fritsche in his
Historical Destiny and National Socialism in Heidegger’s Being and Time to have
demonstrated that Heidegger’s audience in Germany in the 1920s would clearly
have understood his allusions to the themes of the Radical right. Fritsche
spends a considerable amount of time discussing the above passage and shows that
the reference to the rejoinder which is a “disavowal” is a reference to the
cancellation of the Weimar Republic and its institutions. It is not possible in
this venue to repeat the details of Fritsche’s analysis. I will however provide
Fritsche’s own summary of his reading of Being and Time, a portion of which I
had previously quoted in my article:
“In Being and Time, Heidegger unfolds a drama in three acts, the drama of
Dasein’s historicality. In the first act the necessary conditions of the
conflict are developed. In the second act, a critical situation develops that
calls for a dramatic solution, which is presented in the third act…. The
solution of the drama consists in authentic Dasein stepping out of the world in
which it has been living as ordinary Dasein, turning back to this world, and
canceling it. Authentic Dasein does so because it has been called upon by the
past to rerealize the past, which has been pushed aside by the world in which
Dasein has been living as ordinary Dasein. The rerealization of the past
requires that authentic Dasein cancel, destroy, or disavow the world it has been
living in as ordinary Dasein. Ordinary Dasein is living in a downward plunge….
At some point in the downward plunge the second part of the drama begins, and a
buzzing in the air … indicates a crisis. The solution of the crisis lies in
the cancellation of the downward plunge and the world of ordinary Dasein so as
to make room for a world in which the past and its principle are revitalized and
properly present.”[12]
If Fritsche’s reading is correct, and I believe it is, then the Heidegger of
Being and Time is clearly in the camp of the most extreme elements of the
Radical right in the 1920s. Even if you claim not to be convinced by this
interpretation of Being and Time, what possible room is there for
misinterpretation of Heidegger’s writings, public speeches and actions in the
1930s, when he demonstratively threw in his lot with the Nazis? Was he still
being a romantic rural conservative then? Your contention that Heidegger was a
“redneck” is merely another variation of the theme defended by legions of
Heidegger’s apologists, from Hannah Arendt to Richard Rorty—that Heidegger was
politically naïve when he joined the Nazis and simply got in over his head. I

discussed this absurd thesis in my essay at great length. Your letter adds
nothing to lend it any credibility.
In conclusion, I would urge you to ponder the remarkable situation that
philosophy faces at the dawn of the twenty-first century. Martin Heidegger, who
was an active and unapologetic Nazi, has been widely acclaimed as the most
important philosopher of the twentieth century. I have stated elsewhere that I
do not share this enthusiasm for Heidegger’s work. Nevertheless, it is
undeniable that Heidegger has been and continues to be one of the most
influential thinkers of the past century. To date, there have been perhaps a
thousand volumes of commentary on Heidegger published in the English language
alone. This is by far more attention than any other modern philosopher has
received.
The most influential philosopher of the twentieth century a Nazi? Does this not
point to a deep crisis within philosophy itself? It is time to stop making
excuses for Heidegger, and confront this crisis.
Notes:
1. Berel Lang, Heidegger’s Silence, Cornell University Press, Ithaca, 1996, p.
53.
2. Martin Heidegger, “The Self Assertion of the German University,” The
Heidegger Controversy, Sheldon Wolin, editor, MIT Press, 1998, p. 30.
3. Karl Löwith, “My Last Meeting with Heidegger in Rome, 1936, Wolin, pp.
141-42.
4. Martin Heidegger, Heraklit, in Gesamtausgabe, vol. 55, Frankfurt am Main,
Klosterman, 1979, p. 149. (cited in Lang)
5. Martin Heidegger, An Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Ralph Manheim, Yale
University Press, New Haven, 1959, p. 123.
6. Martin Heidegger, Einführung in die Philosophie, in Gesamtausgabe, vol. 40,
Frankfurt am Main, Klosterman, 1983, p. 41-42. (cited in Lang)
7. Martin Heidegger, Beiträge zur Philosophie, in Gesamtausgabe, vol. 65,
Frankfurt am Main, Klosterman, 1989, p. 42. (cited in Lang)
8. Martin Heidegger, Schlageter (May 26, 1933), The Heidegger Controversy,
edited by Sheldon Wolin, MIT Press, 1993, p. 42.
9. Being and Time, p. 435.
10. Being and Time, p. 435.
11. Being and Time, p. 438.
12. Johannes Fritsche, Historical Destiny and National Socialism in Heidegger’s
‘Being and Time’, University of California Press, Berkeley, 1999, p. x-xi.
See Also:
Two letters and two replies on “The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and
Nazi”
[1 November 2000]

http://www.wsws.org/articles/2000/nov2000/heid-n01.shtml

The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi
Part 1: The Record
[3 April 2000]

http://www.wsws.org/articles/2000/apr2000/heid-a03.shtml

The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi
Part 2: The Cover-up
[4 April 2000]

http://www.wsws.org/articles/2000/apr2000/heid-a04.shtml

The Case of Martin Heidegger, Philosopher and Nazi
Part 3: History, Philosophy and Mythology
[5 April 2000]

http://www.wsws.org/articles/2000/apr2000/heid-a05.shtml

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Jean-Paul Sartre, visto por Gustavo Bueno (video entrevista)

Entrevista donde Gustavo Bueno expone aspectos de interés sobre la obra de Jean-Paul Sartre y el contexto histórico , Unión Soviética,España,Comunismo en España…

con o sin dioses:teo o ateo LOGOS Palabra verdadera sobre dios o no dios

La Idea de Dios se relaciona en todos los casos conocidos con el concepto de religión. A este hecho ha dedicado el filósofo español Gustavo Bueno parte de su vida, como profesor de Filosofía de la Religión en la Universidad de Oviedo (España). Sus tesis sobre el concepto de religión como religación entre el hombre y dioses analizado desde las coordenadas del sistema filosófico que se denomina Materialismo Filosófico. En este sentido es imprescindible la consulta de algunos de sus libros libros: El animal divino, Cuestiones cuodlibetales sobre dios y la religión y otros artículos sobre el tema publicados en la revista El Basilisco y en la revista El Catoblepas
El planteamiento que haremos ahora es el siguiente:
Si las religiones han ido surgiendo históricamente y se las observa como elementos con un fuerte componente social y político, es decir, como instituciones de Poder, en el presente, desde algunas partes del mundo , se puede observar el hecho de que no todos los ciudadanos , en especial de Europa, de Estados UNidos, China y la ex URSS o Cuba y Corea del Norte, se sostiene la tesis de que la idea de Dios es innecesaria para construir una sociedad política en la cual el orden social sea realmente un orden con una base social cuya moral se puede ejercitar sin necesidad de religiones, sea una u otra, monoteista o politeisa.
El agnosticismo es diferente del ateísmo, ya que implica una especie de desdén hacia el problema de si existe o no un o unos dioses, y de si el hombre está influido o no por esos supuestos dioses.
El ateísmo toma posiciones que no son sencillas, en cuanto implica una respuesta más o menos violenta , bajo diferentes formas, por parte de los grupos conformados por las distintas religiones a lo largo del mundo
La confrontación entre las Ciencias y las Religiones surge en especial a partir de la llamada Ilustración en Europa. Sin embargo, por intereses y presiones políticas,de gobernantes temerosos de la radicalización surgida de la Revolución Francesa. Es el caso de Kant, que tuvo que guardar silencio en cuestiones acerca del papel de la religión en asuntos de moral social. Es conocido el llamado tabú de Spinoza, cuyas tesis son evidentemente base de un ateísmo que se fundamenta en la Razón Geométrica, base de los avances de las Ciencias en contra de intereses de las religiones monoteístas, incluída por supuesto la judaica, lo cual le costó la expulsión de la comunidad hebrea de la Europa del siglo XVII al autor de la Etica demostrada según el orden geométrico.
En el siglo XIX , se abre una brecha importante y radical entre las creencias religiosas y las razones de la Ciencia positiva, la obra del inglés Charles Darwin es un paso más en el sentido de que se puede forjar una moral y un modelo de sociedad política que basa sus referencias no en un ser o seres trascendentes a los que el ser humano debe respeto y sumisión, por temores ancestrales aún no superados, sino en el estudio sistemático de los datos empíricos a través de un nuevo método que se retomaba ya en el Renacimiento de los modelos de razonar surgidos en la Grecia de Paltón y Aristóteles, pero mejorados con el auge de la matematización y nuevos descubrimietos en los ámbitos de la Astronomía, la Medicina, la Bilología, &
La Iglesia Católica será capaz aunque lentamente,de reconocer, bajo las tesis aportadas por el jesuita Theillard de Chardin, que Darwin está en lo cierto en cuanto a sus tesis sobre la evolución del hombre.
Serían sin embargo, Marx y Freud los que habrían de ser considerados como mucho más peligrosos para la religión católica, y distintos papas a lo largo de dos siglos habrán de luchar con todas las herramientas teológicas y humanas a su alcance contra estas nuevas herejías ajenas a la propia fe .
Veremos en los mapas a continuación un hecho muy curioso pero no por ello menos importante: se mencionan las religiones, pero rara vez se puede ver el número y regiones donde se compruebe la existencia de ateos, aunque sí en uno que otro mapa aparece la referencia a los agnósticos
En algunas presentaciones que hemos encontrado en internet, hay quienes dicen que se puede ser agnóstico pero que es imposible tener una moral o valores realmente serios para una convivencia social sin conflictos permanentes,es imposible, dicen , como Kant planteaba, que se puede tener una moral sin referencias a la trascendencia, a los dioses y los premios y castigos en un mundo extra terrenal.
Los avances de las ciencias en los años posteriores a la Segunda Guerra Mundial han dado lugar a algunas obras y propuestas que en el comienzo del siglo XXI parecen ser dejadas al olvido,a pesar de que son ejercitadas de alguna manera , por medio de las prácticas en laboratorios , universidades y hospitales del mundo y en especial en el llamado mundo occidental. El premio Nobel de Medicina,Jacques Monod, planteaba en su libro El azar y la necesidad, que era ya hora de que nos decidiéramos por uno de los dos caminos ante los que tenemos que elegir ( decía en 1968 ): el mundo de las Tinieblas( se refería a las creencias más o menos irracionales implícitas o explícitas en las distintas religiones) o el mundo de la Razón de las Ciencias , la bioquímica especialmente, que muestra que el único fin de los seres vivos es tratar de mantener el adecuado funcionamiento del ADN y ARN de sus componentes celulares en los diversos tipos de seres vivos.
Veamos, de cualquier modo, los diferentes tipos de referentes fenoménicos que nos podemos encontrar cuando se trata de estudiar las diversas maneras de expresar los contenidos materiales ( en el sentido del Materialismo Filosófico: M1-M2-M3 en relación con la Conciencia, política, religiosa,económica, &, sea desde una perspectiva idealista de la libertad , la conciencia , & O SEA DESDE UNA PERSPECTIVA MATERIALISTA DE DICHA CONCIENCIA E, &- ver Ensayos Materialistas, de Gustavo Bueno-) de las manifestaciones de la religiosidad en el presente y tratando de relacionar este presente con su génesis histórica.
Un asunto de gran interés lo encontramos en la cuestión – fundamental- de un enfrentamiento entre las tesis animistas y las materialistas sobre las religiones ( ver tesis de Gonzalo Puente-Ojea y las de Gustavo Bueno sobre la cuestión )
Me interesa un nuevo modelo de religión, conocido por su nombre en inglés, la Scientology, Cienciología, que se define como una religión pero que pretende compaginar sin ningún tipo de conflicto los avances de las Ciencias. Es al parecer una nueva religiónen auge en amplias regiones de los Estados Unidos y de Europa y hace proselitismo en forma de publicidad pagada en todos los sitios posibles de internet
SERIES DE PANORAMAS DE LAS RELIGIONES EN EL MUNDO A TRAVES DE MAPAS CON EL OBJETO DE HACER UN BALANCE CRITICO Y MATERIALISTA POSTERIOR
FUENTE http://theology101.org/world.htm 

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Sartre: concepto de anti-trabajo en las revoluciones

http://asincro.blogspot.com/2010/08/jean-paul-sartre-y-el-concepto-de-anti.html Ejemplos que Sartre trabaja para su estudio crítico del concepto de anti-trabajo es el caso de la RevoluciónFrancesa. Ponemos un breve texto sobre la figura de Dantón, llevada a teatro por el alemán Georg Büchner en el drama titulado La muerte de Dantón FUENTE DEL TEXTO http://www.lamuertededanton.com.ar
Danton
(Arcis-sur-Aube, Francia, 1759-París, id., 1794)

Político francés. Hijo de un modesto procurador, estudió derecho, siguiendo la tradición paterna, y como abogado ocupó altos cargos en la administración real. En 1785 entró en el Consejo del Rey y mantuvo su cargo hasta 1791, tras el estallido de la Revolución Francesa. Orador brillante, tomó parte activa en los acontecimientos revolucionarios, y tampoco fue ajeno a las contradicciones políticas y el juego de ambiciones personales que dominaron el proceso. Republicano moderado, junto a Marat y Desmoulins, entre otros, fundó en 1790 la Sociedad de los Derechos del Hombre y del Ciudadano, más conocida por el club de los Cordeliers, nombre que el pueblo daba a los franciscanos, pues la sede se instaló en uno de los antiguos conventos de esta orden. Más tarde formó parte de la Comuna y del directorio del departamento de París, desde el cual dirigió la revuelta republicana que siguió a la huida del rey y fue sangrientamente reprimida. Tras un corto exilio en Gran Bretaña, en 1792 regresó a París y, tras participar en la insurrección de agosto, fue nombrado ministro de Justicia. Al formar parte del Consejo de Gobierno y al mismo tiempo ser miembro de la Comuna revolucionaria se convirtió en el hombre con más poder de Francia. Su talante contradictorio se puso de manifiesto al votar a favor de la ejecución de Luis XVI, poco después de haber solicitado que la pena se redujera a su destierro. Abogó por exportar la revolución republicana a otras naciones para garantizar la consolidación del sistema en Francia. Con este mismo propósito participó en la creación del Tribunal Revolucionario y del Comité de Salvación Pública, entidades que institucionalizaron la represión y el terror en todo el país. A pesar de ello, el carácter moderado de Danton se muestra en su continuado intento de pacificar el país e instaurar una política de conciliación con los girondinos y otros grupos opositores, pero los sectores más radicales frustraron sus propósitos. En 1793 Robespierre lo desplazó de la jefatura del Comité. A pesar de ello, Danton lo apoyó frente a la facción extremista de Hébert, al tiempo que se oponía a la continuidad del Terror desde el llamado grupo de los “indulgentes”. Sus contactos secretos con las potencias extranjeras, con el objetivo de reducir la tensión internacional y con ello acabar con el terror político interno, motivaron la reacción del Cómite de Salvación Pública. La implicación de Danton en la fraudulenta liquidación de la Compañía de Indias, según la denuncia formulada por Saint-Just, fue el pretexto en que se basó su detención, el subsiguiente proceso y la condena a muerte. Junto a él fueron guillotinados casi todos los componentes de su grupo.

EL CONCEPTO DE ANTITRABAJO EN EL TOMO II

DE LA CRITICA DE LA RAZON DIALECTICA,

DE JEAN PAUL SARTRE, Y LA RELACION CON LOS

TALLERES NACIONALES DE 1848, EN PARIS.

( UN ENSAYO CRITICO )

AUTOR : DR. ELISEO RABADÁN FERNÁNDEZ

UNIVERSIDAD DE OVIEDO (ESPAÑA) 1990

INDICE

Introducción

PRIMERA PARTE: LOS TALLERES NACIONALES

1.1 El contexto histórico

1.2 La Revolución de siete semanas

SEGUNDA PARTE: ANTITRABAJO, LUCHA Y CONFLICTO EN EL TOMO II DE LA CRITICA DE LA RAZON DIALECTICA

2.1 La relación trabajo‑conflicto, como constitutiva de la historia humana

2.2 Lucha y colaboración

2.3 Contradicción y lucha. Estructuras versus praxis

2.4 La unidad y sus formas

2.5 Antitrabajo

TERCERA PARTE: REFLEXIONES CRITICAS

3.1 Aspectos positivos del planteamiento sartreano

3.2 Aspectos negativos del planteamiento.

APENDICE

BIBLIOGRAFIA

INTRODUCCION

Tras la muerte de Sartre, en 1980, han sido publicadas por la edi torial Gallimard, tres obras, que, si bien, como nos advierte el edi tor, son textos inacabados, el mismo Sartre deseaba que fuesen publi cados después de su muerte. De los tres libros, nos ocuparemos del que más importancia tiene para la investigación filosófica, que seria, el tomo 2 de la Critica de la Razón Dialéctica, subtitulado “La inteligilibidad de la Historia”. Aparece este texto en 1985, y de él se han realizado poquísimos estudios. En español, hasta donde he podido saber, no ha sido publicado todavía ningún comentario.

En este ensayo, me centraré en un problema muy concreto, a saber: el concepto de “anti‑trabajo”. Concepto que, tal como lo exponen los editores en un glosario, al final de la obra, se definirla como sigue: “actividad antagonística doble (o plural), productora de objetos a considerar como resultados de una colaboración negativa, que ninguno d e los adversarios reconoce como suyos”.

Para analizar estas nociones, Sartre recurre al problema planteado en el Paris de 1848, en lo que se conoce como “Talleres Nacionales”.

Pensamos, de acuerdo con Ronald Aronson, (1987), que el problema central de este tomo dos de la Critica, gira en torno a esta cuestión:

“¿de qué manera dos grupos en lucha “colaboran en,un trabajo común”?.(1)

Ahora bien, Sartre mismo, al referirse a los Talleres Nacionales, los define como “totalizaciones en curso”, que son, en palabras de los editores, “trabajo de síntesis y de integración a partir de circun s tancias determinadas y en función de un objetivo; la totalización de fine a la misma praxis? (2)

Aunque Sartre desarrolla especialmente el proceso del ascenso al poder de Stalin, a lo largo de dos terceras partes del libro, el caso de los Talleres, nos será muy útil para entender posteriormente el ca so del stalinismo. Vemos la importancia que Sartre da a esta cuestión, en sus propias afirmaciones al respecto:

” … si la Historia es totalizante, hay totalización de la lucha en tanto que tal (poco importa, desde el punto de vista formal donde nos coloquemos, que esta lucha sea un combate singular, una guerra o un conflicto social). Y si esta totalidad es dialécticamente compren sible, es necesario poder captar en la experiencia a los individuos y a los grupos en lucha, como colaborando de hecho en una obra común … … En cuanto a los Talleres Nacionales y a los objetos sociales naci dos de una lucha, se podría llegar a sostener que son realidades his tóricas solamente en la medida en que no son conformes a ningún o de los proyectos que los han realizado en el antagonismo recíproco. Tie nen una suerte de existencia propiamente histórica en la medida en que, hechos por los hombres, les escapan (inclusive si, como Conven ción, son ellos mismos agrupamientos) sin recaer por tanto en el n i vel de la materia no trabajada…”. (3)

Un planteamiento que presenta, a mi juicio, una novedosa aclaración respecto del “marxismo” de Sartre, se refiere a lo que él mismo expone como “contradicción formal en la teoría marxista”. Esta contradicción radica en el hecho mismo de que el planteamiento de la lucha de clases como “motor de la Historia”, forma parte él mismo de ese desarrollo de la Historia. En otros términos: aunque, en determinados momentos de la Historia, el materialismo dialéctico haya sido “útil”, en la medida en que los marxistas se preocupaban por el éxito material de sus hipóte sis, ello no impide que el problema de la “inteligibilidad formal” per manezca sin solución. Cuando la máquina parece “trabarse”, es cuando surge el problema. Veamos cómo plantea Sartre la cuestión:

El marxismo es verdadero rigurosamente si la Historia es totalización; ya no lo seria, si la historia humana se descompone en una plu ralidad de historias particulares o si, de cualquier manera, en el seno de la relación de inmanencia que caracteriza el combate, la negación de cada adversario por el otro es por principio destotalizante … Nuestro propósito es, únicamente, establecer si, en un conjunto práctico desga rrado por antagonismos (sea que haya múltiples conflictos o que se re duzcan a uno solo), los desgarramientos mismos son totalizantes y arrastrados por el movimiento totalizante del conjunto. Pero si establecemos, en efecto, este principio abstracto, la dialéctica materialista como mo vimiento de la Historia y del conocimiento histórico no tiene otra cosa sino probarse por los hechos que ella misma aclara o, si se prefiere, que descubrirse a sí misma como un hecho y a través de los otros hechos”. (4)

Sartre considera que es suficiente estudiar los conflictos dentro de un grupo organizado, para que la opacidad de los productos del anti trabajo, productos que conllevan la deformación, la semi ineficacia, la ineficacia total, la contra‑eficacia, sean reconstruidos, desde la perspectiva de la inteligibilidad dialéctica. Si el trabajo es defini do como una “operación material encaminada a producir un determinado objeto, como determinación del campo práctico y en vistas a cierto fin, debemos nombrar anti‑trabajo a la doble actividad antagonística , puesto que cada sub grupo trabaja para destruir o desviar el objeto producido por el otro…”. (CRD, T. 11, 105-106)

Nuestra labor, por tanto, consistirá en mostrar cómo es posible acceder a una inteligibilidad del hecho histórico, para lo que es ne cesario desarrollar el ejemplo de los Talleres Nacionales, y posterior mente, realizar un análisis de los términos planteados por Sartre, que nos puedan aportar los elementos necesarios para realizar el análisis critico de toda la Critica sartreana. (5)

PRIMERA PARTE

LOS TALLERES NACIONALES

1.1 El contexto histórico:

Jean Sigmann, (1977), plantea el caso de Paris, en la primera mitad del siglo XIX, como una especie de “mito revolucionario europeo”. Las revueltas en Londres, no son lo mismo que en Paris. Los obreros londi nenses buscan obtener ventajas laborales. Los parisinos quieren el con trol del Gobierno. Por otra parte, la crisis económica de 1825‑32, que golpea más duramente al Reino Unido que a Francia, provoca en Paris el levantamiento popular y el derrocamiento de un rey en 183W. … El ebanista londinense Lovett no piensa, como sus congéneres del faubourg Saint Antoine, en levantar barricadas para obtener el sufragio univer sal. Revolucionaria por principio, ya que rechaza los fundamentos mis mos del régimen, la oposición republicana y obrera de Paris acepta en un clima pasional los riesgos de la acción revolucionaria: renacen los recuerdos del 10 de agosto de 1792 y con ellos el sueño de una nueva república conquistada por Paris para toda Francia. La historia revolu cionaria pesa sobre París y no sobre Londres … 11. (6)

A pesar del periodo de expansión económica que sucedió a la depre sión de 1825‑32, otra recesión entre 1845 – 47 trae nuevos vientos revolucionarios. Francia se enriquecía, si, pero las dificultades campesi nas y la miseria obrera muestran que la única beneficiaria del progre so era la burguesía. Las clases populares, divididas en Francia entre campesinos y obreros, tenían diversos intereses. Los campesinos, “que no comprendían la diferencia entre una república y una monarquía”, velan en Napoleón, el petit caporal,a través de la tradición oral, a un amigo de los campesinos. Será así, en palabras de Sigmann, como,”votando masivamente por su sobrino en diciembre de 1848, los electores del campo harán una estrepitosa entrada en la historia”. El proletaria do industrial sigue siendo una minoría: “hacia 1848, los obreros de fá brica no suman más que un millón doscientos cincuenta mil mientras que el número de trabajadores a domicilio se eleva a cuatro millones. Des cribir la formación de la nueva clase, evocar sus condiciones de vida y de trabajo seria incurrir en repeticiones. Porque en Francia, como todos los países continentales que entrarán detrás de ella en la vía de la industrialización, sigue el “modelo” inglés, aunque a un nivel menos elevado… …La esperanza de un aumento de salario o de una disminu ción de la jornada de trabajo (la reivindicación de una jornada de diez horas aparece, como en Inglaterra, hacia 1840) pudo impulsar a los obre ros de la gran empresa a movimientos improvisados … … La conciencia de clase es un sentimiento intermitente. La idea de derrocar el orden social está ausente”. (Siegmann, op. cit.; p. 65) . La burguesía no puede clasificarse bajo un criterio unificador; es decir, debemos tener presente la existencia de una clase menos numerosa y cohesionada de lo que pareciera desde su ascenso, un tanto paradójico, en opinión de Siegmann. (7)

Concluyendo, y coincidiendo con la opinión de Siegmann, “vista des de Paris, la revolución de 1848 aparece como la victoria de las clases obreras sobre la burguesía”. (Siegmann, op.; p. 66). Contra quienes pretendían llegar al “sufragio universal” a través de reformas parla mentarias, contra aquellos que Siegmann llama los aprendices de brujo de la Cámara de diputados”, “algunos miles de parisienses erigirán ba rricadas y derrocarán a Guizot, al rey, a la monarquía y al sistema parlamentario”.

Los hechos revolucionarios de febrero de 1848, que Siegmann descri be como un “drama en tres actos”, son importantes para comprender la idea sartreana de anti‑trabajo, en especial el tercer acto del drama.

“Tercer acto. Para obtener la consagración de la calle, única auto ridad real, y para no ser postergados ‑¿quién puede serlo nunca?‑, tan pronto como lo permite el obstáculo de las barricadas, los siete nota­bles ganan el Hotel de Ville, esas “Tullerías del pueblo”, rodeado por una muchedumbre tumultuosa y que ocupan mocetones armados y resueltos. Encuentran por fin una oficina y comienzan a repartirse carteras ministeriales, en medio de un indescriptible tumulto salpicado con alegres disparos.

¡ Tarea cómoda entre compinches !. Pero hacia las ocho d e la noche aparecen con naturalidad cuatro hombres que se dicen elegidos después de una discusión con las sociedades secretas en los locales de La Réforme: tres periodistas, Armand Marrast, Ferdinand Flocon, Louis Blanc y un desconocido Albert. ¡Molestos, los otros deben apretarse un poco!. Luego los once pasan a la sala del consejo municipal colmada por completo para recibir de manera relativamente oficial la investidura popular … ‘y. (8)

1.2 La Revolución de siete semanas:

Esta “revolución romántica” será motivo de la reflexión sartreana en el Tomo 2 de la Crítica, que, como veíamos en la Introducción, será sólo un ejemplo previo al desarrollado más ampliamente, cuando analice Sartre el ejemplo del stalinismo, como “encarnación” de la Revolución rusa de 1917, tras la desaparición de Lenin. En cierto modo, Louis Blane será semejante a Trotsky. Pero continuemos con el asunto d e la “explosión” de 1848.

“El pueblo de Paris, nos dice Siegmann, está poseído de la “ilusión lírica”: “Por fin se va a constituir una sociedad justa cuyos miembros serán todos libres e iguales Después, ¿quién sabe si con la ayuda del contagio muy pronto toda Europa no va a transformarse en una federación de pueblos libres?. Después de todo, solamente es necesaria la rectitud y la energía de parte del gobierno provisional …. (op. cit.; p. 187). Nacen más de trescientos periódicos, y sin embargo, en Paris, la acción de los clubes eclipsa a la de la pro pia prensa. Surgen cerca de cuatrocientos clubes. Los que surgen de las sociedades secretas son »verdaderamente temibles”. Auguste Blanqui funda la Sociedad republicana central, que atrae al “bello mundo” par¡ sino, (Baudelaire, Sainte‑Sueve), pero cuando descubren que no son só lo bellas palabras en boca de un elegante hombre bien vestido, sino propuestas políticas concretas, huyen asustados de esa teoría de la “ revolución permanente ”. Armand Barbás, áspero y duro, funda el Club de la revolución. La rivalidad con la sociedad fundada por Barbés, radicalizará las posiciones iniciales del Club fundado por Blanqui. “Las promesas ilusorias ‑nos dice Siegmann‑ marcarán todas las empresas de los voceros del pueblo parisiense. El gobierno aprenderá poco a poco a servirse de ellas, pero en varias ocasiones cuestionará su existencia” (Siegmann; op. cit.; p. 189).

Un obrero, Marche, presenta al gobierno un pliego petitorio, elabo rado en las oficinas de la Démocratie pacifique de Considérant, que el mismo Louis Blanc hubiera podido rubricar. “Enfrentado ruidosamente a las autoridades, Marche comenta lacónicamente: “¡La organización del trabajo, el derecho al trabajo inmediatamente!. Tal es la voluntad del pueblo. ¡El espera!. ¿Qué hacer sino ceder?. Y Louis Blanc redacta con la alegrií que es de suponer el famoso decreto: “El gobierno de la Re pública francesa se compromete a garantizar la existencia del obrero por el trabajo ( … ) a garantizar el trabajo para todos los ciudadanos. Reconoce que los obreros deben asociarse entre ellos para gozar del be neficio de su trabajo”. ¡En pocas horas -afirma Siegmann‑ la república se ha convertido, en los papeles, en socialista!”. (Siegmann, op. cit.; p . 190).

En medio de la “fiebre revolucionaria”, en medio de la elocuencia de un poeta, Lamartine, que ante el temor a causar excesivo recelo en el exterior de Francia, trataba de no acceder a la implantación de “un nuevo símbolo”, (la bandera roja), y la elocuencia fria de un tribuno, un gobierno que es, en palabras de Siegmann, “prisionero” de la revolución “social”, se logra continuar, a pesar de “esa marea que suba y resonaba como un trueno”, el intento de controlar los fervores “román ticos” del pueblo.

“Al día siguiente (28 de febrero de 1848), divididos en cuerpos de oficios, (construcción e imprenta, especialmente), 2000 obreros vienen a reclamar la creación de un “ministerio del Progreso”, es decir del Trabajo. Concertada o no con Louis Blanc, esta reivindicación está dentro de la lógica del decreto del 25, cuya primera aplicación práctica parece ser, el mismo 28, bajo la denominación de Talleres nacionales (en realidad se trata de talleres de caridad), una institución revolu cionaria. Satisfacerla equivaldría a confiar a un teórico de “la orga nización del trabajo” la misión oficial de instaurar el socialismo. Una vez más la mayoría es superada. Por una transacción que calma las susceptibilidades de la extrema izquierda, se decide la formación inmediata de una “Comisión del gobierno para los trabajadores”. Sesionando en el Luxemburgo en lugar de la Cámara de los pares, bajo la presidencia de Blanc asistido por Albert, compuesta por delegados obreros y pa tronales a los que se agregarán cuatro escritores socialistas y econo mistas, tiene como misión “expresa y especial ocuparse” de la suerte de los obreros. Reunida el 12 de marzo, propone la abolición del marchandage (especialmente en la construcción, los jefes de equipo, ver daderos subcontratistas, explotan sin vergüenza a los compañeros que contratan), y la reducción de la jornada de trabajo … … Prácticamen te ahogado, el gobierno hizo promesas cuya realización se considera se gura: a comienzos de marzo, ¿por qué dudar, entonces, d e la eficacia social de los Talleres y de la Comisión del Luxemburgo que dirige Louis Blanc?. El compromiso de retomar la tributación indirecta (impuestos a la sal, las bebidas, etc.) y los decretos del 2 de marzo, ¿no represen tan en fin la prueba de una activa simpatía hacia las “clases obreras”?.” (9)

Los extremistas pierden el control de las calles de Paris. El 23 de abril de 1848 serán derrotados por el voto de los franceses, “que los condena sin apelación”. La insurrección obrera de junio será la “última manifestación de las ilusiones perdidas y la desesperación”. “Los obreros ‑en palabras de Siegmann y no solamente los beneficiarios d e la institución, ven en los Talleres un recuerdo ‑la victoria popular de febrero‑ y un símbolo: el derecho al trabajo. Para la asamblea, in térprete del país, la existencia de los Talleres es un escándalo finan ciero (150.000 francos por día), moral (más de 100.000 inscritos paga dos por no hacer nada) y político: Marie habla favorecido la creación de un Club de Talleres nacionales y el ingreso de los obreros que él creía controlar en la guardia nacional; la penetración de la propagan da “demagógica” en un medio destinado a combatirla fue una de las lec ciones del 15 de mayo. Las medidas que anunciaban la disolución provo can una serie de motines espontáneos que degeneran en una guerra estric tamente social: contra los insurrectos del hambre, la guardia nacional y la guardia móvil combaten con mayor ardor que el ejército; varios mi les de muertos del lado de los insurrectos, 1.000 en las filas adversarias … … Las provincias arden por combatir, armas en manos, a los per petuos revoltosos que se niegan a inclinarse ante el sufragio univer sal. ¿Cómo sorprenderse si después de una atroz represión, seguida d e la anulación de las conquistas sociales de la revolución … … el dere cho al trabajo no es introducido en la constitución… …los proleta rios redescubren, más allá de los sueños de febrero, el mito bonapar tista … … La impresionante victoria de Luis Napoleón el 10 de diciembre de 1848 se debe, como hemos dicho, ante todo al campesinado…” (Siegmann; op. cit. pp. 197‑98).

La esperanza de Louis Blanc de lograr una transformación pacifica de la sociedad se vela completamente frustrada. La derrota por el vo to era tajantemente cerrada por la derrota por las armas. Las elecciones ponían de manifiesto “el carácter minoritario del socialismo en Francia a mediados del siglo XIX. Sin embargo, estas luchas aportan enseñanzas claves para la historia del socialismo. Marx criticará, en sus escritos La lucha de clases en Francia, y El dieciocho Brumario de Luis Bonaparte, las consignas “derecho al trabajo” y “organización del trabajo” y les opondrá exigencias como la abolición de la condición de asalariado y la de la lucha de clases. Será la Comuna de Paris de 1871 el hecho que señalará un giro decisivo. Sin duda, los setenta y dos días de la Comuna “conmoverán” la historia del socialismo. Ha llegado el momento, sin embargo, de pasar, una vez planteado el contexto histórico, al planteamiento filosófico, que abordaremos, en primera instancia, desde la propia perspectiva de Sartre, tal como la desarrolla en CRD, II.

SEGUNDA PARTE

ANTITRABAJO, LUCHA Y CONFLICTO

EN EL TOMO DOS DE LA CRITICA DE LA RAZÓN DIALÉCTICA

2.1 la relación trabajo‑conflicto, como constitutiva de la historia humana:

Dos problemas esenciales son señalados por Sartre. En primer lugar, se pregunta si pueden estar “en el interior de un grupo, las actualiza ciones reales de una contradicción en desarrollo”, mediante la praxis común, (sea ésta en tanto individuos comunes, individuos o sub grupos). Para completar adecuadamente el planteamiento de esta primera cuestión, Sartre afirma que:

“…Mas, para poder asimilar un combate a una contradicción, y los adversarios a los términos de la contradicción en curso, seria preciso que pudieran ser considerados como las determinaciones transitorias de un grupo más amplio y más profundo, cuyo conflicto actualizaría una de las contradicciones presentes; de una manera inversa seria necesario que el grupo retotalice y supere su lucha sin piedad hacia una nueva reunificación sintética de su campo práctico y una reorganización in terna de sus estructuras. Tendremos que determinar si esta condición puede ser cumplida, si lo es alguna vez o siempre y qué clase de rela ción implica ‑en el caso en que sea cumplida‑ entre la pareja antago nista y la sociedad que la sostiene y la rodea. Será preciso, por otra parte, volver a encontrar en la singularidad de cada lucha, a partir del grupo en el cual se engendra, los tres caracteres de la inteligi bilidad dialéctica, es decir, la totalización, la particularización y la contradicción … 11. (10)

La segunda cuestión se refiere, en el planteamiento sartreano, a1 problema del “proceso objetivo”. “La lucha , nos dice Sartre, determina acontecimientos, crea objetos, y éstos son sus productos”, (CRD; T. II; p. 20). Los productos de la lucha son, al ser ellos mismos humanos, am biguos, insuficientemente desarrollados. Sin embargo, desde la perspectiva sartreana, estos objetos van a ser los factores y las condicio­nes de la historia ulterior”. Desde su condición de indeterminación, estos objetos “hipotecan” el futuro y comunican a la lucha que se ins taura a partir de ellos “su opacidad de cuestiones mal planteadas, de problemas mal resueltos, de liquidación mal hecha”. (CRD; T. II; p.20). Para Sartre, la Razón positiva estará plenamente a gusto ante estos problemas, a los que procederá a clasificar, reduciendo lo complejo a elementos más simples. Estudiará (por ejemplo, en el caso de los Talle res nacionales, de 1844), sucesivamente el proyecto inicial, la res puesta, la respuesta a la respuesta, quedará satisfecha si puede “ex­plicar” cada uno de los caracteres del objeto estudiado relacionándolo con la acción de uno de los grupos o con la reacción de los grupos ad versarios. Será, sin embargo, insuficiente este esfuerzo explicativo, al encontrarnos con que los hechos analizados se nos presentan como aporías, que son a un tiempo resultados de una “obra común”, que es, sin embargo, según muestran los propios productos de la Historia que son objeto de nuestra consideración, una obra que en realidad nunca ha existido sino como anverso inhumano de “dos acciones opuestas que tra tan de destruirse entre sí”.

” … En la perspectiva dialéctica, volvemos a encontrar estos obje tos como producciones humanas y proveídas de un porvenir (los Talleres nacionales se definen a partir de una necesidad social del momento y como la obra que puede satisfacer esta necesidad): as! parecen, por sí mismos, totalizaciones en curso…”. (11)

El ejemplo de un campo de batalla arrasado, plantea la cuestión d e la Historia como evento totalizante; en la guerra, hay totalización de la lucha en cuanto tal. Es preciso poder comprender la lucha como “la objetivación de un grupo trabajando”, formado él mismo por dos subgru pos antagonistas. En el caso de nuestra investigación, centrada en los Talleres, se plantea el problema, al igual que sucede en el caso de otros objetos sociales, de hasta qué punto históricos. Se plantea, e n otros términos, si estos acontecimientos, por exceso de “indetermina ción”, debida a la no‑significación dada a los mismos por sus antago­nistas, o inclusive, en algunos casos, por la “sobredeterminación” de bida a lo que Sartre llama “exceso de trabajo humano”, pueden ser his tóricos, o en qué sentido lo son. Y no se trata, advierte Sartre , de alienación, (aunque en la base misma de la lucha se halla la alienación como “superada y conservada”); no son ni la materialidad inanimada, ni la serialidad las que “roban”, en términos de Sartre, a cada adversa rio su acto:

“. . es cada uno quien roba su acto al otro, es en la reciprocidad de los grupos ya constituidos contra la serialidad y la alienación, donde se forja, precisamente, este proceso nuevo y vivo que nace d el hombre y que le escapa.

Estos problemas tienen una importancia capital: ha sido suficiente formularlos, para franquear un nuevo umbral de la experiencia crítica; acabamos, en efecto, de reencontrar la Historia. Naturalmente, se presenta bajo su forma más abstracta…”. (12)

En este momento Sartre vuelve a plantear una concepción central en su idea de la Dialéctica: la de escasez. La inteligibilidad de la lu cha, la de la Historia, sólo será posible desde la perspectiva de la escasez. Será definida, aquí, como elemento condicionador de conflic tos y luchas sociales, como “negación del hombre por la Tierra, nega ción que se interioriza como negación del hombre por el hombre”. Las luchas no son, nunca, en ningún lugar,”£ puros accidentes de la histo ria humana”. “Representan la manera misma en que los hombres viven la escasez en su movimiento perpetuo para superarla”. (CRD.; T. II; p.22). Mientras no se haya logrado que la abundancia sea el nuevo rasgo qu e determine las relaciones de los hombres con el Universo, los desplazamientos de la escasez (del producto, de la herramienta, del conoci­miento, etc.) serán vividos como desplazamientos de las luchas humanas. Desde el momento en que esta teoría no puede ser demostrada como poseedora de una validez a prior¡, ya que la escasez como fundamento de las relaciones de reciprocidad no se da en todos los casos analizados, Sartre acepta que lo único que podemos inferir de sus planteamientos es que la lucha “engendra productos que, desde un punto de vista, (el de la escasez puede ser considerada como unidad, que engendra productos que serán las circunstancias materiales que deberán superar otras generaciones lanzadas a otros conflictos”. (CRD; T. II. p. 23). La lucha, en tanto que desborda a los propios adversarios, se engendra a si misma como su propio proceso. Sin embargo, remite constante mente a la praxis que será a su vez otra, diversa, de lo que cada uno de los grupos ha proyectado. Esto mismo es, precisamente, el proceso histórico, en tanto que “temporalización en curso de la historia humana

En estos planteamientos, Sartre va a encontrar lo que él denomina una “contradicción formal en la teoría marxista”. Esta contradicción radica en el hecho de que el materialismo histórico pretende que el motor de la historia sea al mismo tiempo su fundamento epistemológico. Dicho en otros términos: la lucha de clases y el principio de inteli gibilidad de la misma , términos opuestos, no son adecuadamente diferenciados en la interpretación marxista de la Historia. Veamos en qué términos lo plantea el texto de la Critica que nos ocupa:

” … si la lucha de clases debe ser inteligible a la razón dialéctica del historiador, es preciso poder totalizar las clases en lucha y ello nos lleva a descubrir la unidad sintética de una sociedad desgarrada de lleno … … siendo la contradicción dialéctica inmanente, es decir, siendo un desgarramiento mantenido y producido por la realidad que él mismo desgarra, ¿hay una unidad de las diferentes clases, que sostiene y produce sus conflictos irreductibles?…”. (13)

Lo que Sartre critica a los marxistas es, precisamente, su preocu pación por mostrar la utilidad pragmática de la teoría, en casos con cretos, pero no les interesa si, formalmente, su propia teoría fraca sa. Esta cuestión, que es la que Sartre analiza en el Tomo II de la Crítica, es la misma cuestión que ya preocupaba a Merleau‑Ponty en Las aventuras de la dialéctica, y que, como veremos, es una cuestión de crucial importancia para entender el propio planteamiento de Sartre, tal como expresa Ronald Aronson. Por ahora, es suficiente señalar que, “cuando la máquina parece trabarse”, es cuando los problemas formales salen a la luz, y con ellos, la necesidad de replanteárselos. Tal co mo Sartre lo plantea, “el marxismo es verdadero rigurosamente, si la Historia es totalización; no lo es si la historia humana se descompone en una pluralidad de historias particulares o si, de cualquier manera, en el seno de la relación de inmanencia que caracteriza el combate, la negación de cada adversario por el otro es por principio destotalizan te”. Esto no implica, en opinión de Sartre, sino el hecho de que si la lucha, los conflictos, son parte de un orden más amplio, que se plan tea dialécticamente como totalización en curso, el propio marxismo no seria sino una parte de ese proceso, y no el marco privilegiado, des de el cual se plantearla el desarrollo de la Historia. La misma crítica cabria plantear a quienes pretenden otras formas de presentar la Historia como un proceso cerrado. (Me refiero concretamente al caso del planteamiento de Fukuyama).

2.2 Lucha y colaboración:

Las luchas entre grupos, entre diversas praxis en conflicto, son inteligibles desde la perspectiva más amplia de totalidades precisamente desde esas praxis en conflicto entre si, no desde un todo previamente dado, que era el punto de vista del marxismo. Para entender cómo la lucha se desarrolla, Sartre la plantea como un proceso que se define “como la deteriorización de una praxis por otra”. (CRD, II, p. 19).

Para explicar ese proceso es preciso recurrir a la noción de contra dicción. De esta manera, podemos plantear las características de la lu cha: 1) expresa una contradicción. 2) particulariza dicha contradicción. 3) totaliza el grupo.

Ver si realmente esto sucede así, es el primer problema, crucial, para el entendimiento dialéctico. Sartre piensa que la lucha no es un proceso en el que los intereses en oposición, defendidos por los sub­grupos enfrentados, son totalmente eliminados cuando uno de los grupos triunfa sobre el otro. El proceso es más bien dialéctico. El trabajo destructor, (antitrabajo), supone acumulación de energías, de medios, una real transformación del “campo práctico”. Ciertamente se da la constitución de realidades nuevas (sea por degradación, sea por desintegración) dentro del grupo. Ante un enfrentamiento, se producen diferentes tomas de posición: el sub grupo A con su proyecto inicial; el sub grupo B con un contraproyecto; y el proyecto conciliador del sub grupo C. El producto de esta lucha poseerá algunos elementos de los tres proyectos, pero no será correspondiente con ninguno de los tres.

” … Recordemos ,el ejemplo es lejano, pero es uno de los más claros,cómo el proyecto de instituir los Talleres nacionales, concebido por Louis Blanc, irreconocible después de las enmiendas que en él se hablan introducido en la Asamblea, fue, por todos los medios, saboteado sistemáticamente por Marie y sus colaboradores…” (CRD; T. II; p. 107).

¿Cómo es posible que grupos en conflicto colaboren en un trabajo común?. Este es el problema central del volumen dos de la Critica. Comprender esto es comprender el proceso de la Historia. Dos sub‑grupos en conflicto, dentro de un grupo organizado, ¿son sólo “agentes de destrucción”, que atacan la unidad colectiva?, o al contrario, ¿ventila n la contradicción, que, expresada y trascendida, hace posible el desarrollo del grupo?.

El análisis de los sub grupos que Sartre realizó en el volumen I de la Critica, presenta el grupo‑en‑fusión, con la unidad original, producida para lograr metas urgentes, inmediatas, y necesita recurrir al “juramento” impuesto a los componentes del grupo‑en‑fusión mismo. Poste riormente organiza y diferencia a los miembros para lograr sus objeti vos a largo plazo. (CRD, Tomo I, Libro II; “Del grupo a la Historia”).

En el proceso de organización, el grupo crea a su vez aparatos especializados o subgrupos. La diferenciación creada será la que de lugar a que los sub‑grupos entren en conflicto. Surgen también desacuerdos con el grupo organizado, desacuerdos que reflejan “estructuras objetivas del problema práctico que debe ser resuelto”. Pero, como muy bien señala Aronson, la contradicción tiene raíces en realidades objetivas de la vida del grupo, más bien que en diferencias subjetivas.,(14).De esta manera, surge el problema de cómo la colaboración lleva a enfren tamientos, a lo que Sartre plantea como el concepto de contradicción.

2.3 Contradicción y lucha. Estructuras versus praxis:

Para Sartre, la contradicción no está, como un a prior¡ dado en las estructuras, ni siquiera de modo latente. La praxis no es, para él, el agente de esas estructuras. La contradicción no aparece cuando un sub­‑grupo contra el otro, cuando la indeterminación, es decir, aquello que aún es sólo proyecto, enfrente a ambos subgrupos en la praxis concreta. La estructura se hará inteligible una vez que la previa indeterminación vaya configurándose en lo que Sartre llama precisamente “praxis‑pro ce so”. As!, la indeterminación superada por uno y otro sub‑grupo se c on vierte en la mediación que los une en el antagonismo. (CRO; II, p. 65). El conflicto será, por lo tanto, en los propios términos de Sartre: “la realización práctica de una coexistencia imposible”.

La praxis del grupo ha creado una nueva situación. Por ejemplo , el caso de los Talleres, que en teoría, como señala Aronson , “debían ser e ficientes cooperativas de trabajadores, ayudadas por el Estado, que ga rantizarían el trabajo y competirían favorablemente con el capitalismo”. (Aronson, p.45, nota 7). Sin embargo el proyecto se convirtió, para al gunos políticos, enfrentados a Blanc, en una forma de controlar y despolitizar a los obreros. Aunque los problemas puedan presentarse al análisis como estructuras, el hecho es que el conflicto se manifiesta en primer lugar concretamente como comportamiento. La contradicción sólo se ha ce explícita hasta que es asumida por la praxis. (CRD; II; p. 64). Y es tas contradicciones dadas entre los sub‑grupos no se convertirán en con flictos, sino cuando la imposibilidad práctica de la coexistencia im pida el mantenimiento de la relación de simple contradicción de objeti vos e intereses”. Cuando los intereses del grupo no pueden ser compartidos por los sub‑grupos aparecerá la violencia. El problema de la inteligibilidad de la Historia no radica en entender el supuesto “progreso”de la actividad de los grupos por superar las condiciones de “escasez”. El problema está en entender cómo un grupo que se forma para superar condiciones concretas adversas a su propio sobrevivir como tal grupo, llega a enfrentar luchas internas que hacen, en ocasiones, peligrar al propio grupo. Los conflictos surgen cuando realidades que no estaban pre sentes en el proyecto original, cuando los sub‑grupos se enfrentan de bido a indeterminación de poderes en un momento dado de la praxis.

“…Cada subgrupo ha tomado la inercia del “juramento”, siendo ju ramentado para responder a tales y tales situaciones, pero ahora enfrenta “esta otra inercia que es, por ejemplo, la indeterminación de pode­res”. Cuando una situación no anticipada ocurre, ambos subgrupos se en cuentran a si mismos juramentados para responder a ella… … actúan libremente, pero a través de y en relación con una doble inercia : la inercia de los grupos juramentados y la de indeterminaciones especifi cas en relación con una demanda no anticipada sobre ellos.

¿No mina este énfasis sobre la inercia, la insistencia previa del Sartre antiestructuralista, en que las contradicciones no se deben a estructuras preexistentes?. Y, ¿no sugiere él mismo ahora que los miembros del grupo son agentes de un más amplio proceso que sus propias acciones encarnan?. Continuando con su crítica a Lévi‑Strauss, Sartre insiste en la necesidad y en la libertad, la una creada por la otra:”la absoluta necesidad de esta contradicción, como estructura objetiva e interior del grupo, viene de una oposición de inercias constituidas por los sub‑grupos mismos en su libre movimiento práctico … (15)

Sin duda, y ello está bien claro en Sartre, la existencia de contra dicciones no lleva siempre a conflictos. Cuando un grupo ha avanzado hasta etapas caracterizadas por una creciente “serialización”, la inercia de la tradición pesa sobre los sub‑grupos de tal manera que “no hay lucha”. Este asunto interesa ahora, en la medida en que muchos críticos de Sartre la achacaban promover constantemente el terrorismo y la violencia. Sartre, en efecto, expresa la imposibilidad de lograr a vances contra la alienación, o mejor aún, contra la explotación de unos hombres por otros, dentro de grupos inertes. Esto, en el momento en que Sartre escribía, era un hecho histórico‑politico concreto, (la “Guerra Fría”), pero aunque actualmente se hable de la posibilidad “real” de resolver las contradicciones “técnicamente” ‑políticos tec nócratas‑, los hechos muestran que las diferencias de niveles de vida son enormes, no dentro de determinados grupos (en Europa, por ejemplo), sino entre países avanzados y subdesarrollados. Es interesante recordar, por ejemplo, el texto polémico de Raymond Aron, Histoire et dia lectique de la violence.

Es urgente, para nosotros, ahora, recalcar algunos puntos centrales de nuestra investigación, antes de pasar a exponer la cuestión de qué es la “Unidad”.

El enfrentamiento con el estructuralismo nos muestra la enorme dificultad de Sartre para hacer justicia, tanto a la praxis individual, como a los más amplios procesos socio‑históricos. En términos de Aronson, la cuestión se plantea así:

” … Ambas, unidad y contradicción, deben ser mostradas ahora como productos de la praxis individual y como teniendo su propia lógica e imponiendo sus propias demandas. La clave para la explicación radica en el “juramento”, que ha dado al grupo solidez y presencia en cada uno de los individuos, como explica (Sartre) ampliamente a través del concepto de encarnación.

Cada subgrupo se mira a sí mismo, legítimamente, como “el centro de esta totalización, cuyo centro está en todas partes” (CRD, II,p. 76). Aquí, el grupo existe como este subgrupo; allí, existe como ese subgrupo enfrentado a aquél. Es el desarrollo de todo el grupo ‑su característica diferenciadora en este punto y su desdoblarse de los epicentros (la encarnación de estos en subgrupos)‑ lo que pone en conflicto a los subgrupos … … Los subgrupos luchan entre si como miembros del grupo…”. (16)

Sartre plantea la unidad del grupo como el motor de los conflictos. Pero la unidad “no es una estructura, impuesta desde fuera a los miem bros del grupo, que de alguna manera se perpetúa a si misma”; (Aronson, p. 89), la unidad, en estas palabras que clarifican, a mi juicio, lo que debemos analizar a continuación, se presenta ante nosotros como “una realidad compleja, una de cuyas facetas es la praxis de lucha y la otra, la exigencia inerte del momento, es, lo hemos visto, que la unidad del grupo no es otra cosa, sino, en efecto, su práctica perma nente de reunificación”. (CRD; II; p. 78).

2.4 La unidad y sus formas:

Recordemos que la contradicción es, para Sartre, acción que realiza la oposición práctico inerte, pero sólo como movimiento de reunifica ción. Por otra parte, la unidad es práctica: “está perpetuamente mantenida, reasumida por y en la acción global”. (CRD; II; p. 81).

El conflicto, siempre bajo el “imperativo” ‑permítaseme utilizar este término‑ de la unidad del grupo, se desarrolla, se presenta, b ajo estas posibles determinaciones:

a) “mediación”: sucede cuando se mantiene la posibilidad de que los conflictos sean superados y las crisis evitadas por “órganos efectivos de mediación”. (Aronson, p. 90).

b) “cisma”: cuando la mediación fracasa, puede suceder que se llegue a cisma, tal como ocurrió en el caso de Roma y Bizancio. El cisma surge ante la imposibilidad de liquidar uno de los oponentes. Cada uno de los sub‑grupos siente la separación como una “amputación”, pero al tiempo, cada uno procede a reunificarse a si mismo mediante la expulsión del otro.

c) “liquidación”: la victoria de un sub‑grupo sobre otro, siempre s e presenta como “estando bajo el interés del grupo más amplio”. La vic toria se presenta siempre como una especie de garantía de progreso.

Insistiendo en el hecho de que progreso significa simplemente, e n este contexto, una “progresión irreversible” hacia el logro de las me tas del grupo, Sartre trata de evitar toda alusión a posibles juicios externos de valor. Pero, a pesar de este cuidado, surge inevitablemente la pregunta acerca de si siempre tiene la victoria este sentido de progreso, es decir, de aumento en la efectividad del grupo para lograr su unidad, su supervivencia, en suma. ¿Marca siempre un progreso en el proyecto común?. Sartre dedica aproximadamente las dos terceras p ar tes de la Critica (Tomo II), a analizar el ejemplo del stalinismo, como “desviación” del proyecto leninista. Nosotros, en este trabajo, no nos ocuparemos de ello, como ya hemos señalado, y precisamente nuestro objetivo era intentar presentar la noción de anti‑trabajo, en referencia a los Talleres nacionales, de tal manera que su análisis aquí, sir va como elemento previo a un trabajo más amplio. Sin embargo, si señalo esta cuestión, es por el hecho de que considero el asunto de interés para, al menos, algún eventual lector de mi ensayo, y, por otra parte, para no desvirtuar excesivamente el propio trabajo de Sartre.

Uno de los hechos que Sartre muestra, es que “el grupo existe, a buen seguro, pero no por si mismo, independiente de la pluralidad d e praxis individuales que, a través de incontables mediaciones, lo sos­tienen y le dan su fuerza”. (Aronson; p. 95). El mismo stalinismo, a pesar de la fuerza política de quien lo encarna , en el sentido que Sartre da a esta expresión, es, en un momento dado, superado por el desarrollo de nuevas contradicciones, de nuevas mediaciones, etc.

Las desviaciones vienen determinadas por el azar y por lo práctico ‑inerte. Desde luego, esta postura de Sartre es discutible, pero me li mitaré a exponer su tesis.

Por una parte, la praxis busca siempre limitar el poder del a zar, de lo imprevisible. A pesar de ello, aunque el hombre gobierna la ma teria trabajada, nunca se libra totalmente de la influencia de lo práctico‑inerte, cuando se presenta bajo forma de “azar”, de hechos fuera de nuestro control, al menos en sus primeros momentos. Me atrevo a mencionar el conocidísimo asunto de la U.R.S.S. actual, y los problemas que enfrenta Gorbachov, ya que es posible que sirva para entender me jor, dado el breve espacio de que dispongo para desarrollar este pun to.

2.5‑ Antitrabajo:

Hemos visto cómo el concepto de antitrabajo surge de la oposición con el de trabajo; (“si trabajo significa una operación material que busca producir cierto objeto, como determinación del campo práctico y en vistas a cierto fin”, anti‑trabajo es una actividad doblemente an tagonista en la que cada subgrupo intenta desviar o destruir el objeto producido por el otro. (CRD; II; p. 105».

Lo importante, ahora, es señalar el hecho de que, para Sartre, el resultado del proceso de antitrabajo, por ejemplo, como veíamos en el caso de los Talleres nacionales, es lo que 61 llama “monstruoso y de­formado reflejo” del proyecto original. En ese caso, el proyecto ori ginal fue manipulado bajo cuerda, saboteado sistemáticamente para que no fuese llevado a cabo. Cuando el objeto inicial se convierte en un producto de nadie, se hace parcialmente efectivo, o inefectivo por completo. Es inteligible a pesar de ello, si lo tomamos como lo que es: un nuevo objeto. Es, en palabras de Sartre, “la totalización dialéctica de dos tácticas enemigas en su irreductibilidad”. (CRD; II; p. 107).

¿Cómo es inteligible esta nueva realidad?. Para Sartre, en el sen tido de que es práctico‑inerte, y por tanto, alienada de la praxis de sus antagonistas, “como tal, escapa a la inteligibilidad” (CRD; II; p. 107). Pero una vez lo conocemos, sabemos que, a pesar de sus malos resultados, esos resultados negativos contribuyeron, en el caso d e los Talleres nacionales, a la insurrección de junio de 1848. As!, de algua manera, esos resultados que parecían en un momento dado, como negativos, se presentan como inclusive, esperados o deseados. Resulta muy esclarecedor a este respecto, lo que menciona Aronson:

” … El antitrabajo crea, entonces, un producto que objetiviza el conflicto y negativamente unifica la dualidad. Este producto es inte ligible del mismo modo que cualquier objeto práctico‑inerte producido por una praxis de grupo, emprendida por acuerdo común: es una síntesis pasiva, que espera ser revivida por la acción venidera. El antitrabajo crea un producto que actúa sobre sus productores y otros dentro de su campo “a pesar de sus defectos de construcción”, y vive “a pesar de malformaciones que lo hacen inviable” … (CRD; II; p. 108)…”. (17)

Sartre sugiere, como vemos, que el producto del antitrabajo tiene un sentido profundo, que, en sus palabras, Ua Razón dialéctica puede descubrir y que el positivismo no descubrirá”. (CRD; II; p. 109).El ca so de los Talleres nacionales refleja el conflicto de clases; no sim plemente un enfrentamiento de subgrupos. Este conflicto expresa e1 grupo entero, en la medida en que es actualizado por todos los órganos y por todos los individuos comunes. Lo que Sartre quiere mostrar es que el antitrabajo es producido por todo el grupo, no sólo por los subgrupos directamente implicados en la lucha. Es en este sentido en el que sostiene Sartre que no puede ser “alcanzado” por el positivis mo. Como mencionaba antes, Sartre procede a analizar otro ejemplo d e antitrabajo, lo que él llama “monstruosidad ideológica”, el socialismo en un solo país, de Stalin.

Para terminar esta segunda parte, me parece importante recapacitar en el siguiente hecho: la importancia que pueda tener el planteamien to que hace Sartre radica en el papel que juegan todos los términos, o mejor aún, todos los componentes del concepto de antitrabajo. Esto significa que el conflicto, la lucha, de cualquier manera que se desa rrollen, (queremos decir, se resuelvan a través de cismas, acuerdos consensuales o eliminación de tal o cual subgrupo, etc.), tiene la característica, que en la perspectiva de Sartre, ha de ser dialéctica, de formar un todo complejo, una especie de juego entre intereses enfrentados, en los que ninguno de sus componentes es independiente de los demás, sea cual sea su “fuerza” aparente. En realidad, Stalin dio lugar al stalinismo, Trotsky, al trotskismo, pero los indivi duos Trotsky o Stalin, por fuerte que fuese su influencia en el propio proceso de la Historia, no eran sino elementos más o menos decisivos dentro de la “totalización en curso”. Conceptos como este último, que Sartre introduce en el Tomo II de la Critica, son tan novedosos y desconocidos ‑especialmente en España‑, que considero imprescindible añadir al final de mi trabajo, a manera de “apéndice”, un glosario de términos que tomo íntegramente de la edición de Gallimard de la Critica (1985)

TERCERA PARTE

REFLEXIONES CRITICAS

3.1 Aspectos positivos del planteamiento sartreano:

¿Qué encontramos una vez que terminamos nuestro estudio de las pro puestas teóricas de Sartre ?. Por lo pronto, vemos que la praxis revo lucionaria ha creado su situación contradictoria. Ciñéndome al ejemplo de los Talleres Nacionales, el hecho de que los obreros guiados por intelectuales revolucionarios socialistas (Blanc), no lograsen triunfar plenamente, se debe a las propias situaciones que surgen dentro del mismo movimiento revolucionario: enfrentamiento ‑en buena medida pro vocado, lo sabemos‑ con los campesinos, encarnado en los resultados electorales; reacción temerosa de las potencias europeas, que recordaban la Revolución de 1789 y el poder imperial de Napoleón Bonaparte, etc.

También, en tanto proyecto unificado, crea, mejor, engendra, su propia contradicción entre moderados y radicales. Es decir, la más importante contribución teórica del concepto de anti‑trabajo, es el hecho de ser un criterio central para mostrar cómo los conflictos de clases dan lugar a unidades más amplias, no previstas ni, en muchos aspectos, previsibles. El concepto que Sartre introduce en su trabajo teórico nos sirve as!, para desarrollar un método dialéctico capaz de permitir nos mostrar de qué modo acciones opuestas pueden ser consideradas como acciones que están realizando una sola historia.

El hecho de su insistencia en que los individuos son quienes hacen la Historia, si bien dentro de determinadas circunstancias, es un avance en el planteamiento ontológico de El Ser y la Nada, del Sartre se­guidor de Husserl y Heidegger. El planteamiento sartreano, aporta la insistente necesidad de plantear el estudio de las actividades de los hombres, desde un horizonte de libertad, aún reconociendo el innegable hecho de la existencia de estructuras. Pareciera, incluso, que para Sartre, hasta el concepto de “escasez” tuviera la característica de ser él mismo una estructura “fundamental”. Sin embargo, la libertad no es algo dado, determinado, sino una capacidad, una potencialidad, que la misma praxis de los grupos permite afianzar, ampliar. Es por esto último por lo que el pensamiento de Sartre y entendido globalmente‑con lo cual quiero significar que no puede ser juzgado desde planteamien tos parciales (criticar a Sartre desde El Ser y la Nada, o desde El existencialismo es un humanismo, pongamos por caso). Hoy en día, tras la publicación de los escritos que mencionábamos en la Introducción, después de su muerte, quien criticase la dialéctica sartreana sólo desde el Tomo I de la Crítica) práctica esta muy corriente, y no por ello menos lamentable, entre los filósofos.

3.2 Aspectos negativos del planteamiento:

En el estudio de los fenómenos históricos, la pretensión de captar la totalidad es ciertamente utópica (los elementos de que dispone el historiador son limitados, la visión del historiador difícilmente e s imparcial completamente, etc.). Puede, sin embargo, resultar fértil el intento de comprender esa “totalización” sin totalizador.

Como lo expresa Aronson (op. cit.; p. 185 ss.), el mismo Sartre, en el último tercio del libro, cae en análisis híbridos, que no son “ni plenamente históricos, ni plenamente formales”. Este problema es común, de hecho, cuando los filósofos analizan la Historia, o cuando los historiadores se plantean análisis formales de la Historia. Es un peligro muy real, como se puede comprobar en múltiples autores. Conviene re­cordar aquí, el excepcional caso de Ortega, quien combina las perspectivas histórica y formal magistralmente. Recordemos, sin embargo, que Sartre, además de intentar establecer los parámetros de la razón dia léctica, trataba de salvar el sentido profundo del materialismo histórico, contra las “visiones de la historia, que hacen de las visiones revolucionarias, tabúes”. (Aronson; p. 220).

Uno de los problemas que puede plantearse a quien enfoque el estu dio de las cuestiones sociales, políticas o históricas desde la dialéctica que Sartre busca, es, sin duda, la posibilidad de caer en plan­teamientos un tanto utópicos, o subjetivos; pues, al enfatizar los términos, de crucial importancia para Sartre, de interiorización y re‑ex teriorización, la teoría sartreana, acepta una praxis ‑la cual n o es sino la realización de proyectos humanos a través de la transformación de lo práctico‑inerte por los grupos‑ que está siempre inscrita en la materia y que se desvía, pero siempre sigue siendo humana: “en el co­razón de la dialéctica está siempre un proyecto, una práctica y una intención que es humana”. (Aronson; p. 226).

APENDICE

PRINCIPALES NOCIONES (para los dos tomos de la Critica de la Razón Dialéctica).

Como hacen notar los editores del Vol. II de CRD, para Sartre: Una noción filosófica (contrariamente del concepto científico que no remite al hombre) guarda una cierta ambigüedad porque se comprende en in terioridad: “”Lo que sirve (la filosofía), es que estas palabras no están enteramente definidas … hay en la ambigüedad de la palabra filo sófica algo de lo cual podemos servirnos para ir más lejos””. (Sartre: Situations IX, 1965)”.

Actividad pasiva: actividad de lo práctico‑inerte (de la materia trabajada en tanto que ella domina al hombre y del hombre en tanto es gobernado por ella).

Alienación: el robo del acto por el exterior; yo actúo aquí y la acción de otro o de un grupo, allí, modifica desde fuera el sentido de mi acto.

Fundamento de la alienación: la materia aliena en ella al acto que la trabaja, no en tanto es ella misma una fuerza ni tampoco en tanto es inercia, sino en tanto que su inercia le permite absorber y devol ver contra cada uno la fuerza de trabajo de los otros.

Anti dialéctica: momento (inteligible) de la superación, por la materialidad, de las libres praxis individuales, en tanto que son múltiples.

Antitrabajo: actividad antagonística doble (o plural), productora de objetos a considerar como resultados de una colaboración negativa que cada uno de los adversarios no reconoce como suyos.

Apocalipsis: Ver grupo en fusión (“grupo en vía de constitución por disolución de la serialidad, bajo presión de una praxis adversa . La Apocalipsis es el proceso violento de esta disolución (de la seriali dad).

Otro: (con mayúscula): aunque no lo haya hecho con gran rigor a lo largo del manuscrito, el autor parece haber querido dotar esta pala bra de mayúscula cada vez que, pronombre representando una persona o adjetivo que la calificase, insiste sobre la alteridad radical: el otro, en tanto gobierna, o es susceptible de gobernar lateralmente (o de ser gobernado por) la actividad de alguien (chacun ). Hemos sistematizado esta intención, excluyendo el adjetivo otro cuando es portador del mismo sentido pero no califica una persona: está en general en itálicos; su lugar basta a veces para subrayar su significación en el contexto (libertad otro / otro libertad).

Colectivo: llamo colectivo la relación de doble sentido de un objeto material, inorgánico y trabajado, con una multiplicidad que encuen tra en él (en el objeto) su unidad de exterioridad.

Comprehensión e intelección: nombro intelección a todas las eviden cias temporalizantes y dialécticas en tanto deben poder totalizar to das las realidades prácticas y reservo el nombre de comprehensión a la captación totalizante de cada praxis en tanto que esta es intencional mente producida por su o por sus autores.

Destino: futuro del hombre, en tanto esté inscrito en la materia trabajada.

Diacrónica (totalización): desarrollo inteligible de una praxis‑pro ceso a través de vastos conjuntos temporales en los cuales son tomadas en cuenta las discontinuidades arrastradas por el relevo de las generaciones.

Dialéctica (o Razón): lógica viva de la acción.

Exigencia: pretensión emitida por una materialidad inorgánica sobre una praxis (y, naturalmente, a través de otra praxis).

Experiencia critica: búsqueda ‑ella misma dialéctica~ de los funda mentos del campo de aplicación de los limites de la Razón dialéctica.

Exterioridad e interioridad: estos términos no son para ser tomados en su acepción puramente espacial: hay lazo de interioridad en un con junto, entre cada elemento como definido y modificado por su pertenencia a este conjunto; lazo de exterioridad para los elementos que coexisten inertemente.

Extero‑condicionamiento: operación de un grupo soberano sobre conjuntos seriales, que consiste en condicionar a cada uno actuando sobre los otros, produciendo así falsamente la serie como un todo para cada Otro que la conforme.

Fraternidad‑terror: lazo estatutario entre los miembros del grupo juramentado en tanto su nuevo nacimiento de individuos comunes da a cada uno derecho de violencia sobre la libertad de todos los otros con­tra la disolución del grupo.

Grupo en fusión: grupo en vías de constitución por destrucción de la serialidad, bajo presión de una praxis adversa. El Apocalipsis es el proceso violento de esta disolución.

Encarnación: captación de una realidad práctica como envolviendo en su singularidad el conjunto de las totalizaciones en curso.

Individuo común: individuo cuya praxis es común. Es creado por el juramento.

Intelección: comprehensión.

Interés: es, en un campo social condicionado por la escasez y la necesidad, cierta relación del hombre con la cosa, tal que él ve en es ta su ser y su verdad y, tratando de conservar y desarrollar el con junto material que es él mismo, se encuentra completamente sometido a las exigencias de lo práctico‑inerte.

Interioridad: ver exterioridad.

Pasividad activa: actividad del individuo común, quien consiente libremente una cierta (disciplina , diferenciación por su función en el grupo) para mejor servir la praxis común de conjuntos seriales, que consiste en condicionar a cada uno actuando sobre los otros, produciendo as! falsamente la serie como un todo para cada Otro que la conforme.

Fraternidad‑terror: lazo estatutario entre los miembros del grupo juramentado en tanto su nuevo nacimiento de individuos comunes da a cada uno derecho de violencia sobre la libertad de todos los otros con­tra la disolución del grupo.

Grupo en fusión: grupo en vías de constitución por destrucción de la serialidad, bajo presión de una praxis adversa. El Apocalipsis es el proceso violento de esta disolución.

Encarnación: captación de una realidad práctica como envolviendo en su singularidad el conjunto de las totalizaciones en curso.

Individuo común: individuo cuya praxis es común. Es creado por el juramento.

Intelección: cf. comprehensión.

Interés: es, en un campo social condicionado por la escasez y la necesidad, cierta relación del hombre con la cosa, tal que ve en és ta su ser y su verdad y, tratando de conservar y desarrollar el conjunto material que es él mismo, se encuentra completamente sometido a las exigencias de lo práctico‑inerte.

Interioridad: ver exterioridad.

Pasividad activa: actividad del individuo común, quien consiente libremente una cierta (disciplina , diferenciación por su función en el grupo) para mejor servir la praxis común.

Práctico‑inerte: gobierno del hombre por la materia trabajada rigurosamente proporcionado al gobierno de la materia inanimada del hombre.

Praxis: proyecto organizador que supera condiciones materiales ha cia un fin y que se inscribe por el trabajo en la materia inorgánica como reacomodo del campo práctico y ramificación de los medios en vista de un fin.

Praxis‑proceso: praxis de un conjunto social organizado, que reto ma en ella, para superarlas (les dépasser), los condicionamientos y contra ‑finalidades que engendra necesariamente al temporalizarse, y que le hace.

Proceso‑praxis: es la praxis proceso tomado, no ya en interioridad como totalización, sino en exterioridad (en tanto que surge en la dispersión del Universo); como tal, no puede ser sino tomada en vacío.

Progresivo: ver regresivo.

Razón dialéctica constituyente: praxis, translúcida, pero abstrac ta, del individuo considerado aisladamente (u organismo práctico).

Razón dialéctica constituida: inteligibilidad, fundada sobre la Razón dialéctica constituyente, de toda praxis común.

Reciprocidad mediada (en un grupo): relación humana de tercio a tercio, pasando por todos los miembros del grupo que se hace medio de esta relación.

Regresivo‑progresivo (movimiento): marcha de la experiencia criti ca, en primer lugar regresiva en tanto remonta desde lo vivido inmediato hasta la inteligibilidad de las estructuras de las praxis y de los conjuntos humanos que se organizan por ella, después progresiva en el sentido de que propone hacer inteligible el juego de estas mismas estructuras en la Historia.

Sentido diacrónico de la Historia: dirección axial por relación a la cual se podría definir (y corregir) toda deriva posible, hoy y e n el porvenir infinito de la interioridad.

Serialidad: modo de coexistencia en el medio práctico‑inerte, de una multiplicidad humana en la que cada uno de sus miembros es a la vez intercambiable y otro por los Otros y para si mismo.

Sincrónica (totalización): desarrollo de la praxis‑proceso en tan to su temporalización es una y en tanto ramifica continuamente sus medios en vista de un objetivo común, a partir de un conjunto definido de circunstancias anteriores.

Tercio (tiers): cada miembro de una multiplicidad en tanto que to taliza las reciprocidades de los demás.

Totalización: trabajo de síntesis y de integración a partir de circunstancias determinadas y en función de un objetivo; la totalización define la praxis misma.

Distinción entre totalidad y totalización (cf. CI, h.161 sq).

Totalización de envolvimiento: Seria temerario querer fijar aquí la significación de esta noción: permanece inconclusa a lo largo del T. II, como la intuición que lo anima y que el autor intenta cerner y profundizar; su intención es la inteligibilidad y el sentido de la His toria. Más aún, su acepción varia según la realidad considerada. Así, la totalización de envolvimiento es simplemente la integración de to­dos los individuos concretos por la praxis, si se trata de un grupo organizado; en el capitulo sobre las sociedades dictatoriales, es definida como la praxis autónoma y afirmándose como tal, en tanto que produce, sigue, recela y disimula su propia heteronomía como la unidad pa siva y reactualizada de sus propios subproductos, o incluso la exterioridad interior de una empresa común. Pero estas formulaciones no valen para una sociedad “desunida” en la cual no hay una empresa común, sino simple unidad de inmanencia; ¿y qué seria de ello para un proceso histórico más vasto (diacrónico)?. Estas cuestiones son abordadas, pero sin duda no resueltas, en las notas anexas.

BIBLIOGRAFIA

ARON, R. ; Histoire et dialectique de la violence; Gallimard, Paris 1973.

ARONSON, R.; Sartre’f.Second Critique; The University of Chicago Press, Chi cago and London 1987.

BEDARIDA, F.; DROZ, J.; SOBOUL, A.; et al.; Historia general del socia lismo; Vol. I. Te los orígenes a 1.875″; Ed. Destino, Barcelona , 1976.

CATALANO, J.S.; A commentary on Jean‑Paul Sartre’s Critique of Dialec tical reason, Vol. 1. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London 1986.

FLYNN, T.R.; Sartre and Marxist Existentialism; The University of Chi cago Press, Chicago and London 1984.

MERLEAU‑PONTY, M.; Las aventuras de la dialéctica; Ed. La Pléyade, Buenos Aires 1974.

RANCH SALES, E.; El método dialéctico en Jean‑Paul Sartre; Ed. Univer sidad de Alicante, Alicante 1983.

REIMAN, M.; El nacimiento del estalinismo; Ed. Grijalbo (Crítica), Bar celona 1982.

SARTRE, J.P.; Critique de la Raison dialectique; (precedido de Questions de méthode); Tome I: “Théorie des ensembles pratiques”. Gallimard, Paris 1960.

SARTRE, J.P.; Critique de la Raison dialectique; Tomo II (inachevé): “L’intelligibilité de l’Histoire”. Gallimard, Paris 1985.

SIEGMANN, J.; (1848). Las revoluciones románticas y democráticas de Eu ropa; Ed. Siglo XXI, Madrid 1977.

NOTAS

(1) Cfr. ARONSON, R.; Sartre’s Second Critique; 1987. Este investigador fue el primero que tuvo acceso a los manuscritos de Sartre, y su libro es el primero que desarrolla un análisis minucioso del Tomo 2 de la Critica. A partir de ahora, en las citas al mismo, nos referiremos como ARONSON.

Ciertamente estamos de acuerdo con Aronson, cuando afirma que “gran parte de la historia del período entre Febrero y Junio de 1848 puede ser escrita en torno de la lucha por, y la deformación de, los Talle res Nacionales”. Ver, sobre este problema, nota 7, de pag. 45. Para lo referente al problema central, ver pag. 76, ambas en ARONSON.

(2) Cfr. SARTRE, J.P.; Critique de la Raison Dialectique; Tome II (inachevé) . Intelligibilité de l’Histoire; 1983. Las referencias que se hagan a esta obra, se citarán, a partir de este momento, mediante las siglas CRD, II.

Para comprender mejor este concepto, quisiera mencionar la cuestión que preocupaba obsesivamente a Sartre, a cerca de si es posible entender la Historia, cuando sabemos que es una “totalidad destotalizada”, es decir, cuando la Historia misma es ambigua, y cuando los hechos históricos, son, as! mismo, ambivalentes. El desarrollo de este problema lo encontramos, precisamente, en los Cahiers pour une Morale (1.983), obra que el mismo Sartre, en entrevista con Michel Sicard, en la revista “Obliques”, (1978), considera excesivamente idealista. Sí tenemos en cuenta que, precisamente en el mismo número de la revista, es decir, dos años antes de la muerte de Sartre, aparece publicado un fragmento de lo que era La Gran Moral de 1947,17, en el cual se plantea el proble ma de la ambigüedad de la Historia. La acción histórica será equívoca, la Historia es posible solamente por la mediación de agentes históri cos no abstractos, sino concretos, los cuales por el hecho mismo de estar a un tiempo “fuera” y “dentro” de la Historia, tienen un carácter de ambigüedad insoslayable. Están fuera en tanto tienen la posibilidad de planificar sus conductas. Están dentro, en tanto lo exterior a su pensamiento los aliena. Así por ejemplo, en el caso del hegelianismo como mito, desde el momento en que hay posthegelianos. El fin d e la Historia se presenta, de esta manera, como algo inalcanzable, al menos, en tanto no se suprima la opresión de unos hombres por otros. La ac ción histórica, por otra parte, es ambivalente, en tanto que el azar interviene en las acciones históricas.

Ver para esta cuestión, Cahiers pour une Morale, pp. 26‑71.

(3) Cfr. SARTRE; CRD, II; pp. 21. Para un desarrollo de esta cues tión, ver el planteamiento que desarrollo en la parte I de mi ensayo.

(4) Cfr. SARTRE; op. cit.; p. 24. Para comprender este planteamiento, Sartre vuelve a plantear el papel que juega en la dialéctica dela Historia la “rareté”,la escasez. Este concepto será desarrollado en un apéndice, anexo a esta investigación, ya que es de crucial importancia analizar su alcance, dentro del pensamiento sartreano.

(5) Si no prestamos atención a las otras dos obras póstumas hasta ahora publicadas, (Cahiers pour une morale, 1983; y Vérité et existen ce, 1989), es por considerar que, en el caso de la Moral, supone, en palabras de Aronson, con quien coincidimos, su “Etica abortada”. En el caso de Vérité et existence puede ser interesante para entender mejor la relación de Sartre con Heidegger, especialmente en lo referente a El Ser y la Nada.

Cfr. ARONSON, p. 9. A pesar de referirse al proyecto sartreano d e 1945‑47, de elaborar una ética, como un proyecto abortado, no por ello es rechazable de una manera tajante todo el libro de los Cahiers pour une Morale; como velamos, al menos lo referente al problema del sentido de la Historia, tiene un valor por si mismo, si tenemos en cuenta que fue el propio Sartre quien quiso verlo publicado antes de morir, en la revista “Obliques” como mencionábamos. Encontramos, además, mul titud de planteamientos muy sugerentes respecto de problemas éticos y morales, que, en todo caso, aclaran más de un malentendido surgido a raíz de la publicación de El existencialismo es un humanismo. Debemos tener en cuenta, a este respecto, que, como expresa Aronson, “.. La presencia del segundo volumen impone nuevas lentes, a través de las cuales ver los propósitos y análisis del primero, tanto como toda la carrera de Sartre”. (ARONSON, p. 2).

(6) Cfr. SIEGMANN, J.; 1848. Las revoluciones románticas y democrá ticas de Europa; Ed. Siglo XXI; pp. 44‑45.

(7) Quienes están interesados en profundizar sobre esta cuestión, pueden acudir al propio texto de Siegmann, el cual desarrolla detalladamente la composición de las “clases” obrera y campesina, as! como la burguesía, con sus diversos matices. Es muy interesante la afirmación, por parte de Siegmann, de que “el régimen parlamentario estaba, (antes de los hechos de 1848), al servicio del rey y de la burguesía de de los negocios”. Vid. op. cit.; pp. 68‑70.

(8) Es preciso hacer notar que la inclusión de ministros como Blanc, no es de buen grado aceptada por los “políticos” profesionales. E sto puede ser un factor importante en el momento de analizar la postura de Sartre. En el caso de Trotsky y Stalin, podría haber alguna semejanza, en tanto Blanc es un teórico y Blanque, por ejemplo, un político más pragmático. Este problema se desarrollará más detenidamente en el capítulo siguiente. Sugiero la lectura de La revolución desfigurada, de Trotsky, para preparar una aproximación al problema.

(9) Los Talleres nacionales eran vistos, sin embargo, por los cam pesinos, hasta los más pobres, como lugar donde deambulan “haraganes y perezosos”, a quienes debían mantener mediante el aumento de la contribución territorial, que desde la perspectiva campesina, amenazaba, des de la responsabilidad de los escritores socialistas, su pequeña frac ción de tierra. El aumento de un 45% en todos los impuestos directos, promulgado por Garnier, provocó “en el campo un descontento fa tal para la república”. Cfr. Siegmann; op. cit.; pp. 190‑195.

(10) Cfr. SARTRE; CRD; II; pp. 19‑20. También es conveniente consultar la sección A, del libro II del Tomo Primero de la Critica. (En la Ed. ‑1960‑ de Gallimard; pp. 381 ss.).

(11) CRD; II; p.20. Para el término totalización en curso , ver el apéndice de este ensayo.

(12) CRD; II; p. 22.

(13) CRD; II; p. 107.

(14) Cfr. ARONSON; pp. 77‑78.

(15) Cfr. ARONSON; p. 83. Sobre este problema, consultar el libro de RANCH SALES; El método dialéctico en Jean‑Paul Sartre; en especial la parte VII, que es, entre lo que hemos encontrado publicado en es­pañol, de lo más valioso y serio.

(16) ARONSON; p. 88.

(17) ARONSON; pp. 102‑103.

ENVIANOS TUS COMENTARIOS Y SUGERENCIAS

GRACIAS