jeudi, 06 octobre 2011
The Fascists of Peru
The Fascists of Peru
Ex: http://xtremerightcorporate.blogspot.com/One of the most prominent Peruvian leaders, often regarded as a fascist whether justly or not, was Raúl Ferrero Rebagliati. He was born on September 20, 1911 to an Italian father and Peruvian mother in Lima; Alfredo (a native of Turin, Italy) and Amelia (Rebagliati) Ferrero and was the fourth of six children. An academic and lawyer by trade he served as Dean of the Faculty of Law at the Catholic University of Peru, Dean of the College of Abogados de Lima and as a member of the Permanent Court of Arbitration of la Haya. He became known as an admirer of European fascism, not surprising considering his half-Italian roots and a supporter of Peruvian nationalism and broader national mobilization. Rebagliati was an early member of the ‘Revolutionary Union’ which was a political party founded in 1931 by Luis Miguel Sánchez Cerro to support his presidential dictatorship.
When Sánchez Cerro was assassinated in 1933 Rebagliati took over leadership of the Revolutionary Union and began to move it in a more recognizably fascist direction. He worked to mobilize mass support for the movement, adopting populist nationalist oratory, the Roman salute and even organized a paramilitary force of Blackshirts such as had brought Mussolini to power in Italy. However, electoral defeat in 1936 caused public confidence in the Revolutionary Union to drop and the movement soon faded away though Rebagliati himself remained a political presence of some note, serving as Prime Minister from 1966 to 1967, during the presidency of Fernando Belaúnde Terry and later as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Shortly after his movement began to dissolve he married Yolanda Costa, daughter of Carlo and Livia (Elice) Costa, in 1937 and by whom he had three children; Maria Elena, Raul Enrique and Augusto Ferrero. He died in Lima on April 22, 1977.
The only other Peruvian fascist of note was José de la Riva-Agüero y Osma who was born on February 26, 1885. He was the descendant of one of the early revolutionary leaders of Peru who, after seizing power, was the first to use the title of “President”. He studied at the National University of San Marcos and the University of Lima where he earned a PhD and then worked as Professor of History at San Marcos. History had always fascinated him, particularly the stories of dynamic national leaders like the Holy Roman Emperors and Napoleon Bonaparte. His entry into politics came in 1915 when he helped to found the moderate Democratic National Party. In 1919 he went to Europe for a time where he met many members of the rising Catholic radical right and read the works of right-wing Catholic nationalists like Jacques Bainville and Charles Maurras. He became convinced that their ideas where the proper basis on which the country should be organized and when he returned to his homeland he endeavored to put them into effect.
In 1930 Riva-Agüero returned to Peru and in 1933 was appointed Prime Minister, Minister of Justice and Minister of Public Education during the presidency of General Oscar R. Benavides; a former Peruvian field marshal, moderate conservative and enemy of communism. This gave him some political credentials but it was still insufficiently right-wing for Riva-Agüero and so he organized his own hard-line, far-right Catholic national movement called ‘Patriotic Action’ in imitation of the movement of Charles Maurras, ‘French Action’. Delving deeper into the social-political roots of Catholic corporatism he soon changed the name of his organization to the Peruvian Fascist Brotherhood. He probably had a more broadly recognized national image than any other figure advocating for the Catholic far-right and voicing support for the fascist regimes in Europe, namely Mussolini in Italy and General Franco in Spain. Although not as imitative of these regimes as some, his was a more traditionally based fascism suited to the place of Peru in the world.
For example, Riva-Agüero was a strong supporter of Hispanidad or the community of Spanish-speaking nations that had once made up the Spanish colonial empire. The inspiring success of General Franco and the Falange in Spain had caused a new vision to arise across Latin America which imagined the formation of strong, Catholic, nationalist (call it fascist/falangist as you like) across the nations of the former Spanish Empire to form a powerful economic and political Hispanic bloc that could be a major force in the world. It was a grand and praiseworthy vision but one, alas, not destined to get very far in the realm of reality. Riva-Agüero himself, after reaching a considerable degree of support and public notoriety began, like so many other fascists, to follow more the rising star of Nazi Germany and adopt strange and extreme ideas that seemed to have nothing to do with the situation in Peru which naturally began to turn people off.
In due time Riva-Agüero became increasingly anti-Semitic in his speeches and writings, something that had never been much of an issue in Peru where most people had never seen a Jew and had no idea who or what they were; as well as becoming an outspoken supporter and defender of Adolf Hitler. Not surprisingly, most of what Peru heard about Hitler they were not inclined to like. His exaltation of Germany meant nothing to them and his praise of racial purity was not likely to attract widespread support in a country dominated by a racially mixed population. Yet, Riva-Agüero was never a real Nazi and differed with Hitler on a number of points. For instance, whereas Hitler had stated his wish to abolish all class distinctions, Riva-Agüero supported the idea of the aristocracy and revived the use of the title of Marquis de Aulestia for himself, an old Spanish title of nobility that had long since fallen into disuse in his family. Rumors of increasingly odd behavior also put people off and his support soon faded away. The fascist career of Riva-Agüero officially came to an end in 1942 when Peru nominally entered World War II on the side of the Allies though he continued to defend his support for Hitler and the Axis nations until his death on October 26, 1944.
When Sánchez Cerro was assassinated in 1933 Rebagliati took over leadership of the Revolutionary Union and began to move it in a more recognizably fascist direction. He worked to mobilize mass support for the movement, adopting populist nationalist oratory, the Roman salute and even organized a paramilitary force of Blackshirts such as had brought Mussolini to power in Italy. However, electoral defeat in 1936 caused public confidence in the Revolutionary Union to drop and the movement soon faded away though Rebagliati himself remained a political presence of some note, serving as Prime Minister from 1966 to 1967, during the presidency of Fernando Belaúnde Terry and later as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Shortly after his movement began to dissolve he married Yolanda Costa, daughter of Carlo and Livia (Elice) Costa, in 1937 and by whom he had three children; Maria Elena, Raul Enrique and Augusto Ferrero. He died in Lima on April 22, 1977.
The only other Peruvian fascist of note was José de la Riva-Agüero y Osma who was born on February 26, 1885. He was the descendant of one of the early revolutionary leaders of Peru who, after seizing power, was the first to use the title of “President”. He studied at the National University of San Marcos and the University of Lima where he earned a PhD and then worked as Professor of History at San Marcos. History had always fascinated him, particularly the stories of dynamic national leaders like the Holy Roman Emperors and Napoleon Bonaparte. His entry into politics came in 1915 when he helped to found the moderate Democratic National Party. In 1919 he went to Europe for a time where he met many members of the rising Catholic radical right and read the works of right-wing Catholic nationalists like Jacques Bainville and Charles Maurras. He became convinced that their ideas where the proper basis on which the country should be organized and when he returned to his homeland he endeavored to put them into effect.In 1930 Riva-Agüero returned to Peru and in 1933 was appointed Prime Minister, Minister of Justice and Minister of Public Education during the presidency of General Oscar R. Benavides; a former Peruvian field marshal, moderate conservative and enemy of communism. This gave him some political credentials but it was still insufficiently right-wing for Riva-Agüero and so he organized his own hard-line, far-right Catholic national movement called ‘Patriotic Action’ in imitation of the movement of Charles Maurras, ‘French Action’. Delving deeper into the social-political roots of Catholic corporatism he soon changed the name of his organization to the Peruvian Fascist Brotherhood. He probably had a more broadly recognized national image than any other figure advocating for the Catholic far-right and voicing support for the fascist regimes in Europe, namely Mussolini in Italy and General Franco in Spain. Although not as imitative of these regimes as some, his was a more traditionally based fascism suited to the place of Peru in the world.
For example, Riva-Agüero was a strong supporter of Hispanidad or the community of Spanish-speaking nations that had once made up the Spanish colonial empire. The inspiring success of General Franco and the Falange in Spain had caused a new vision to arise across Latin America which imagined the formation of strong, Catholic, nationalist (call it fascist/falangist as you like) across the nations of the former Spanish Empire to form a powerful economic and political Hispanic bloc that could be a major force in the world. It was a grand and praiseworthy vision but one, alas, not destined to get very far in the realm of reality. Riva-Agüero himself, after reaching a considerable degree of support and public notoriety began, like so many other fascists, to follow more the rising star of Nazi Germany and adopt strange and extreme ideas that seemed to have nothing to do with the situation in Peru which naturally began to turn people off.
In due time Riva-Agüero became increasingly anti-Semitic in his speeches and writings, something that had never been much of an issue in Peru where most people had never seen a Jew and had no idea who or what they were; as well as becoming an outspoken supporter and defender of Adolf Hitler. Not surprisingly, most of what Peru heard about Hitler they were not inclined to like. His exaltation of Germany meant nothing to them and his praise of racial purity was not likely to attract widespread support in a country dominated by a racially mixed population. Yet, Riva-Agüero was never a real Nazi and differed with Hitler on a number of points. For instance, whereas Hitler had stated his wish to abolish all class distinctions, Riva-Agüero supported the idea of the aristocracy and revived the use of the title of Marquis de Aulestia for himself, an old Spanish title of nobility that had long since fallen into disuse in his family. Rumors of increasingly odd behavior also put people off and his support soon faded away. The fascist career of Riva-Agüero officially came to an end in 1942 when Peru nominally entered World War II on the side of the Allies though he continued to defend his support for Hitler and the Axis nations until his death on October 26, 1944.
00:05 Publié dans Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, pérou, aqmerique latine, amérique du sud, fascisme, années 30, années 40 | 
| 
del.icio.us | 
| 
Digg | 
Facebook
samedi, 01 octobre 2011
« Rouges » et « fascistes » sans haine ni rancune
« Rouges » et « fascistes » sans haine ni rancune : le témoignage édifiant d'un enfant de la Guerre d'Espagne
par Arnaud IMATZ
Ex: http://www.polemia.com/
Polémia a reçu récemment de l’historien espagnol, Arnaud Imatz, (*) contributeur occasionnel du site, un message émouvant, accompagné d’un article, écrit en novembre 2006, qui donne un éclairage peu connu de certains des événements qui se sont déroulés en Espagne durant la Guerre civile de 1936 à 1939.
L’heure est à la « diabolisation » et à la réécriture de l’histoire. L’Espagne de Zapatero n’y échappe pas. La bien-pensance y oppose les « bons » (les « Républicains ») et les « méchants » (les « Fascistes »).
La réalité fut plus complexe. Des Rouges furent victimes des Franquistes. Et des Franquistes furent victimes des Rouges. Sans parler des Rouges nombreux à être victimes d’autres… Rouges. Des familles furent partagées. Et s’il y eut des horreurs, il y eut aussi beaucoup de noblesse chez certains combattants, des deux camps. Arnaud Imatz apporte ici le témoignage de José Ataz Hernández : un fils de rouge devenu responsable phalangiste qui vient de disparaître. Un texte à lire pour ceux qui ne croient pas à l’histoire en noir et blanc et qui préfèrent la mémoire historique à la mémoire hystérique. On trouvera ici le message de l’historien et son article.
Polémia
« Je viens d'apprendre avec infiniment de tristesse le décès de José Ataz Hernández survenu le 11 septembre 2011. Ses qualités humaines, son extrême générosité, sa profonde intelligence et sa force de caractère faisaient de lui l'archétype de l'aristocrate de l'esprit, un authentique hidalgo espagnol. Merci de trouver, ci-joint, l'article que j'avais consacré à sa terrible jeunesse, il y a quelques années. Amicalement. Arnaud Imatz »
Comprendre la guerre civile espagnole c'est savoir qu'elle fut « un mélange de vanité et de sacrifice, de clownerie et d'héroïsme », écrit Arthur Koestler dans son autobiographie The Invisible Writing. Guerre totale, devrait-on dire, guerre totale entre totalitaristes de gauche et autoritaristes de droite. Dans l’Espagne de 1936, il n’y a plus de démocrates. La haine et le sectarisme s’emparent des deux camps. Mais le respect de l'autre, la noblesse et la générosité transcendent parfois les divisions. Voici le témoignage émouvant de José Ataz, un jeune « hijo de rojo » (fils de rouge), qui a connu les horreurs d’une guerre fratricide et les terribles privations de l’immédiat après-guerre. Une histoire humaine, vraie, qui à elle seule permet de comprendre la complexité de ce terrible événement historique qui a été commémoré en 2006. Une histoire qui ne juge pas, qui ne dit pas le bien, qui ne poursuit pas la diabolisation, la discrimination entre purs et impurs mais qui contribue honnêtement et modestement à la recherche de la vérité et à la sincère réconciliation.
Au mois d'août 1936, José, petit garçon de huit ans, est le témoin d'une scène atroce qui le marque à jamais. Son père, Joaquín Ataz Hernández, secrétaire du Syndicat des cheminots de l'UGT de Murcie et dirigeant provincial du PSOE, vient d'être désigné par son parti pour siéger dans le Tribunal Spécial Populaire de Murcie. Les tribunaux populaires ont été crées, fin août 1936, par décret du gouvernement. Ils sont composés de 17 juges dont 14 sont nommés d'office par les partis et syndicats du Front Populaire (libéraux-jacobins de gauche, socialistes, communistes, trotskistes et anarchistes). Le 11 septembre, le TP de Murcie siège pour la première fois : sur 27 personnes jugées, 10 sont condamnées à mort, 8 à la réclusion perpétuelle, les autres à de lourdes peines de détention. Parmi les condamnés à la peine capitale, figurent le curé de paroisse Don Sotero González Lerma et le chef provincial de la Phalange de Murcie, Federico Servet Clemencín.
Joaquín Ataz Hernández a voté la peine de mort pour le jeune chef phalangiste. L'ordre qu'il a reçu de son parti ne peut être discuté : le « fasciste » doit être exécuté. « Mon père connaissait Federico depuis son enfance, témoigne José. Ils n'étaient pas amis, mais ils s'appréciaient et se respectaient. Aussi, juste après la sentence, il s'approcha pour lui dire: "Federico, je regrette vraiment..“. » mais avant qu'il n'ait pu ajouter un mot, Federico l'interrompit : « Ne t'en fais pas pour ça, j'aurais fait la même chose avec toi, donne moi donc une cigarette! ».
Deux jours plus tard, de très bonne heure, dans la matinée du dimanche 13 septembre, plusieurs camions bourrés d'hommes et de femmes réveillent José. Le bruit court que le Gouvernement veut gracier les condamnés et la foule en ébullition, exige de faire « justice » elle même. Affolé, le gouverneur civil ordonne de procéder en hâte aux exécutions. La foule furieuse pénètre bientôt dans le patio de la prison. Elle s'acharne sur les cadavres : les corps sont profanés et mutilés sans pitié. Au milieu de la matinée, le petit José, qui joue dans la rue, voit et entend la populace vociférer. Des hommes et des femmes surexcités semblent tirer un étrange fardeau à l'aide de cordes. Avec toute la curiosité et l'agilité de son âge, José s'approche... il est saisi d'effroi. Devant lui gît un corps ensanglanté, que les chocs sur les pavés de la chaussée ont converti en lambeaux. Aucune des viragos présentes sur les lieux ne l'empêchent de voir la scène. Personne ne lui vient en aide lorsqu'il vomit et tombe inconscient sur le sol. À peine remis, il court chez ses parents en pleurant. Sa mère le console. Comment de tels actes de sauvagerie peuvent-ils être tolérés, demande-t-elle écœurée à son mari ? Le père ne répond pas tant sa honte est grande. A cet instant, ils ignorent qu'il s'agit du cadavre du curé Don Sotero Gonzalez Lerma, qui a été horriblement mutilé, trainé dans les rues et pendu à un réverbère de la façade de son église, après qu'un milicien lui a triomphalement coupé une oreille et exigé d'un tavernier qu'il la lui serve bien grillée avec un verre de vin...
Dès que possible, Joaquín Ataz Hernández, renonce à sa charge de membre du Tribunal Populaire. Fin avril 1937, il est nommé chef de service du corps des Prisons. Il dirige bientôt le camp de travail de Totana (Murcie) ou près de 2000 prisonniers politiques, condamnés à la réclusion perpétuelle ou à 30 ans de détention, vont purger leurs peines dans des conditions très difficiles mais néanmoins humaines. Le 1er avril 1939, les cloches sonnent et les pétards éclatent. José et ses deux frères observent leur père : imperturbable, il se peigne calmement pendant que leur mère sanglote : « Ne vous inquiétez pas les enfants, la guerre est terminée mais je dois partir quelques jours en voyage ». Les quelques jours vont se convertir en années.
Sous le sceau du secret, José apprend par sa mère que son père a réussi à s'embarquer vers le Mexique. Pour survivre, le petit garçon doit travailler. Il est tour à tour marmiton, apprenti charpentier, magasinier et boulanger. Il retourne enfin avec enthousiasme à l'école. Dans sa classe, tous les enfants connaissent les antécédents politiques de chaque famille mais personne ne dit mot. En octobre 1942, à l'occasion d'un cours d'instruction civique, José entend par hasard son maître expliquer que José Antonio Primo de Rivera, le leader de la Phalange, condamné à mort par un Tribunal Populaire et exécuté en novembre 1936, « considérait que la naissance du socialisme était juste ». Ces mots, dans la bouche d'un adversaire, lui paraissent si insolites qu'il se plonge dans la lecture des Oeuvres Complètes du fondateur de la Phalange. Il en ressort enthousiasmé et convaincu.
José affronte une grave crise intérieure. Serait-il en train de trahir les idéaux pour lesquels son père a lutté si honnêtement durant toute sa vie? Par chance, il peut en débattre avec lui. Depuis quelque temps, il sait que son père n'est pas exilé au Mexique mais qu'il vit caché chez ses grands-parents. Sans plus attendre, il lui rend visite et lui fait lire les discours et le testament de José Antonio. « Je lui posais franchement mon problème de conscience, dit-il, et il me répondit avec toute la générosité et la noblesse que j'attendais de lui: "Écoute mon fils, je n'ai aucune autorité morale pour te conseiller dans un domaine ou, parce que je me suis engagé à tort ou à raison, vous devez maintenant souffrir toute sorte de privations et connaître la faim. Une personne seule peut aller jusqu'au bout de ses idéaux, sans limites, mais un homme qui a une femme et des enfants n'a pas le droit de compromettre la survie de sa famille. Fais ce que ton cœur te dicte, mais fais toujours en sorte de ne pas compromettre les autres par tes décisions. Tu m'entends bien Pepe, agis toujours avec honnêteté et cohérence “. La conscience enfin libre, "ayant obtenu l'autorisation du seul homme dont je reconnaissais l'autorité sur ma personne, ajoute José, j'adhérais au Front de la Jeunesse et je pouvais enfin porter ma première chemise bleue" ». Chef de centurie du Front de la Jeunesse, il entreprend alors des études de droit et est nommé chef du SEU (syndicat officiel des étudiants) du district universitaire de Murcie.
A la fin de l'année 1948, le père de José, qui vit cloîtré depuis plus de neuf ans, décide de sortir de sa cachette. Il prend le premier train pour Madrid. Grâce à l'amitié reconnaissante de gens qu'il a aidés pendant la guerre, il trouve du travail. Pendant deux ans et demi, il est employé dans un magasin de lampes électriques de la Puerta del Sol, puis dans une fabrique de conserves, sans jamais être inquiété. Mais un jour d'octobre 1951, son fils José, alors aspirant dans un régiment de Séville, apprend qu'il a été arrêté, victime de la dénonciation d'un employé renvoyé pour malversation.
José décide de tout mettre en œuvre pour aider son père. Au printemps 1952, un Conseil de Guerre est réuni. De nombreux témoins à décharge se succèdent à la barre. Tous expliquent que la conduite de l'accusé pendant la guerre a été irréprochable. Parmi eux, certains lui doivent même la vie. C’est le cas du professeur de droit commercial de l'université de Murcie, Salvador Martinez-Moya, qui a été sous-secrétaire à la Justice dans le gouvernement du radical Alejandro Lerroux. Inflexible, le procureur demande la peine de mort. Le jury se retire et délibère de longues minutes. Enfin de retour, la sentence tombe de la bouche du président: l'accusé est condamné à 30 ans de prison... mais, en raison des diverses remises de peine et des grâces accordées, il est immédiatement libéré.
Une fois ses études terminées, José intègre le cabinet juridique de Don Salvador Martinez-Moya, qui était un témoin capital dans le procès de son père. Les hasards de la vie font qu’il y est bientôt rejoint par le fils ainé de Federico Servet, le chef provincial de la Phalange dont son père avait voté la mort. « Je m'entendais très bien avec Ramón, écrit José. Nous ne parlions jamais de nos pères, mais nous savions la tragique relation qu'ils avaient eue. Ramón était très déçu de voir que l'Espagne s'éloignait de ce que son père avait rêvé. Finalement, il partit au Mexique et nous nous perdîmes de vue ». Intelligent et travailleur, José présente plusieurs concours de l’administration. C'est le début d'une fulgurante ascension. En 1964, le sous-secrétaire d'Etat aux finances fait appel à lui. Dix ans plus tard, il est sous-directeur général du ministère des finances.
A près de quatre-vingts ans, José Ataz Hernández, veut avant tout témoigner: « Ni moi, ni mes frères (dont un est aujourd’hui socialiste), n'avons jamais eu à nous réconcilier avec personne parce que personne ne nous a jamais dressés contre les autres. Au contraire, nous avons connu de très nombreux cas, discrets et anonymes, de générosité et de grandeur d'âme, qui seraient inconcevables aujourd'hui. Un exemple : lors de l'enterrement de mon père, Manolo Servet était présent. Manolo était un de mes amis du Front de la Jeunesse et le compagnon de travail de mon frère Joaquín. C'était le second fils de Federico, le jeune chef provincial de la Phalange de Murcie qui avait été condamné à mort avec la participation de mon père. Lorsqu'il s'approcha de moi pour me présenter ses condoléances et me donner une accolade, je dus faire un effort surhumain pour ne pas me mettre à pleurer »...
Témoignage de José Ataz
recueilli par Arnaud Imatz [Madrid, novembre 2006]
20/09/2011
Note de la rédaction:
(*) Arnaud Imatz, docteur d’état ès sciences politiques, diplômé d’études supérieures en droit, ancien fonctionnaire international à l’OCDE ; historien de la Guerre d’Espagne, il a publié de nombreux livres et articles sur ce thème.
Voir notamment :
Guerre d'Espagne : mémoire historique ou mémoire hystérique ?
Retour sur l'affaire des fosses du franquisme : Garzón, juge intègre ou prévaricateur ?
Correspondance Polémia – 25/09/2011
00:05 Publié dans Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : espagne, histoire, années 30, guerre civile, guerre civile espagnole, guerre d'espagne | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 11 septembre 2011
Mircea Eliade: Liberty
Liberty
By Mircea Eliade
"Iconar", March 5, 1937
There is an aspect of the Legionary Movement that has not been sufficiently explored: the individual’s liberty. Being primarily a spiritual movement concerned with the creation of a New Man and the salvation of our people – the Legion can’t grow and couldn’t have matured without treasuring the individual’s liberty; the liberty that so many books were written about with which so many libraries were stacked full, in defense of which many
democratic speeches have been held, without it being truly lived and treasured.
The people that speak of liberty and declare themselves willing to die for it are those who believe in materialist dogmas, in fatalities: social classes, class war, the primacy of the economy, etc. It is strange, to say the least, to hear a person who doesn’t believe in God stand up for “liberty,” who doesn’t believe in the primacy of the spirit or the afterlife.
Such a person, when they speak in good faith, mix “liberty” up with libertarianism and anarchy. Liberty can only be spoken of in spiritual life. Those who deny the spirit its primacy automatically fall to mechanical determinism (Marxism) and irresponsibility.
People bind themselves together according to either hedonism or a familiar economic destiny. I’m a comrade of X because he happens to be my relative, or a colleague at work, and thus comrades of pay. Connections between people are almost always involuntary, they are a natural given. I cannot modify my familiar destiny. And with respect to economic destiny, regardless of how much effort I employ, I could at most change my comrades of pay – but I will always unwillingly find myself in a solidarity with certain people I don’t know to which I’m tied by the chance of me being poor or rich.
There are, however, spiritual movements wherein people are tied by liberty. People are free to join this spiritual family. No exterior determination forces them to become brothers. Back in the day when it was expanding and converting, Christianity was a spiritual movement that people joined out of the common desire to spiritualize their lives and overcome death. No one forced a pagan to become a Christian. On the contrary, the state on the one hand, and its instincts of conservation on the other, restlessly raised obstacles to Christian conversion.
But even faced with such obstacles, the thirst of being free, of forging your own destiny, of defeating biological and economic determinations was much too strong. People joined Christianity, knowing that they would become poor overnight, that they would leave their still pagan families behind, that they could be imprisoned for life, or even face the cruelest death—the death of a martyr.
Being a profoundly Christian movement, justifying its doctrine on the spiritual level above all – legionarism encourages and is built upon liberty. You adhere to legionarism because you are free, because you decided to overcome the iron circles of biological determinism (fear of death, suffering, etc.) and economic determinism (fear of becoming homeless). The first gesture a legionnaire will display is one born out of total liberty: he dares to free himself of spiritual, biological and economic enslavement. No exterior determinism can influence him. The moment he decides to be free is the moment all fears and inferiority complexes instantaneously disappear. He who enters the Legion forever dons the shirt of death. That means that the legionnaire feels so free that death itself no longer frightens him. If the Legionnaire nurtures the spirit of sacrifice with such passion, and if he has proven to be capable of making sacrifices – culminating in the deaths of Mota and Marin – these bear witness to the unlimited liberty a legionnaire has gained.
There are, however, spiritual movements wherein people are tied by liberty. People are free to join this spiritual family. No exterior determination forces them to become brothers. Back in the day when it was expanding and converting, Christianity was a spiritual movement that people joined out of the common desire to spiritualize their lives and overcome death. No one forced a pagan to become a Christian. On the contrary, the state on the one hand, and its instincts of conservation on the other, restlessly raised obstacles to Christian conversion.
But even faced with such obstacles, the thirst of being free, of forging your own destiny, of defeating biological and economic determinations was much too strong. People joined Christianity, knowing that they would become poor overnight, that they would leave their still pagan families behind, that they could be imprisoned for life, or even face the cruelest death—the death of a martyr.
Being a profoundly Christian movement, justifying its doctrine on the spiritual level above all – legionarism encourages and is built upon liberty. You adhere to legionarism because you are free, because you decided to overcome the iron circles of biological determinism (fear of death, suffering, etc.) and economic determinism (fear of becoming homeless). The first gesture a legionnaire will display is one born out of total liberty: he dares to free himself of spiritual, biological and economic enslavement. No exterior determinism can influence him. The moment he decides to be free is the moment all fears and inferiority complexes instantaneously disappear. He who enters the Legion forever dons the shirt of death. That means that the legionnaire feels so free that death itself no longer frightens him. If the Legionnaire nurtures the spirit of sacrifice with such passion, and if he has proven to be capable of making sacrifices – culminating in the deaths of Mota and Marin – these bear witness to the unlimited liberty a legionnaire has gained.
“He who knows how to die will never be a slave.” And this doesn’t concern only ethnic or political enslavement – but firstly, spiritual enslavement. If you are ready to die, no fear, weakness, shyness can enslave you. Making peace with death is the most total liberty man can receive on this Earth.
http://www.archive.org/details/Liberty_7
http://www.archive.org/details/Liberty_7
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : roumanie, légion archange michel, codreanu, mircea eliade, histoire, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 13 août 2011
Towards a New World Order: Carl Schmitt's "The LandAppropriation of a New World"
Towards a New World Order: Carl Schmitt's "The Land Appropriation of a New World"
Gary Ulmen
Ex: http://freespeechproject.com/
The end of the Cold War and of the bipolar division of the world has posed again the question of a viable international law grounded in a new world order. This question was already urgent before WWI, given the decline of the ius publicum Europaeum at the end of the 19th century. It resurfaced again after WWII with the defeat of the Third Reich. If the 20th century is defined politically as the period beginning with the "Great War" in 1914 and ending with the collapse of the Soviet empire in 1989, it may be seen as a long interval during which the question of a new world order was suspended primarily because of the confrontation and resulting stalemate between Wilsonianism and Leninism. Far from defining that period, as claimed by the last defenders of Left ideology now reconstituted as "anti-fascism," and despite their devastating impact at the time, within such a context fascism and Nazism end up automatically redimensioned primarily as epiphenomenal reactions of no lasting historical significance. In retrospect, they appear more and more as violent geopolitical answers to Wilsonianism's (and, to a lesser extent, Leninism's) failure to establish a new world order.
Both the League of Nations and the United Nations have sought to reconstitute international law and the nomos of the earth, but neither succeeded. What has passed for international law throughout the 20th century has been largely a transitory semblance rather than a true system of universally accepted rules governing international behavior. The geopolitical paralysis resulting from the unresolved conflict between the two superpowers created a balance of terror that provided the functional equivalent of a stable world order. But this state of affairs merely postponed coming to terms with the consequences of the collapse of the ius publicum Europaeum and the need to constitute a new world order. What is most significant about the end of the Cold War is not so much that it brought about a premature closure of the 20th century or a return to the geopolitical predicament obtaining before WWI, but that it has signaled the end of the modern age--evident in the eclipse of the nation state, the search for new political forms, the explosion of new types of conflicts, and radical changes in the nature of war. Given this state of affairs, today it may be easier to develop a new world order than at any time since the end of the last century.
At the beginning of the 20th century, Ernest Nys wrote that the discovery of the New World was historically unprecedented since it not only added an immense area to what Europeans thought the world was but unified the whole globe.(n1) It also resulted in the European equilibrium of land and sea that made possible the ius publicum Europaeum and a viable world order. In his "Introduction" to The Nomos of the Earth, Carl Schmitt observes that another event of this kind, such as the discovery of some new inhabitable planet able to trigger the creation of a new world order, is highly unlikely, which is why thinking "must once again be directed to the elemental orders of concrete terrestrial existence."(n2) Despite all the spatial exploration and the popular obsession with extra-terrestrial life, today there is no event in sight comparable to the discovery of a New World. Moreover, the end of the Cold War has paved the way for the further expansion of capitalism, economic globalization, and massive advances in communication technologies. Yet the imagination of those most concerned with these developments has failed so far to find any new alternatives to the prevailing thinking of the past decades.
Beyond the Cold War
The two most prominent recent attempts to prefigure a new world order adequate to contemporary political realities have been made by Francis Fukuyama and Samuel P. Huntington.(n3) Fukuyama thinks the West has not only won the Cold War but also brought about the end of history, while Huntington retreats to a kind of "bunker mentality" in view of an alleged decline of the West.(n4) While the one suffers from excessive optimism and the other from excessive pessimism, both fail primarily because they do not deal with the "elemental orders of concrete terrestrial existence" and troth remain trapped in an updated version of Wilsonianism assuming liberal democracy to be the highest achievement of Western culture. While Fukuyama wants to universalize liberal democracy in the global marketplace, If Huntington identifies liberalism with Western civilization. But Huntington is somewhat more realistic than Fukuyama. He not only acknowledges the impossibility of universalizing liberalism but exposes its particularistic nature. Thus he opts for a defense of Western civilization within an international helium omnium contra omnes. In the process, however, he invents an "American national identity" and extrapolates from the decline of liberal democracy to the decline of the West.
Fukuyama's thesis is derived from Alexandre Kojeve's Heideggerian reading of Hegel and supports the dubious notion that the last stage in human history will be a universal and homogeneous state of affairs satisfying all human needs. This prospect is predicated on the arbitrary assumption of the primacy of thymos--the desire for recognition--which both Kojeve and Fukuyama regard as the most fundamental human longing. Ultimately, according to Fukuyama, "Kojeve's claim that we are at the end of history . . . stands or falls on the strength of the assertion that the recognition provided by the contemporary liberal democratic state adequately satisfies the human desire for recognition."(n5) Fukuyama's own claim thus stands or falls on his assumption that at the end of history "there are no serious ideological competitors to liberal democracy."(n6) This conclusion is based on a whole series of highly dubious ideological assumptions, such as that "the logic of modern natural science would seem to dictate a universal evolution in the direction of capitalism"(n7) and that the desire for recognition "is the missing link between liberal economics and liberal politics."(n8)
According to Fukuyama, the 20th century has turned everyone into "historical pessimists."(n9) To reverse this state of affairs, he challenges "the pessimistic view of international relations . . . that goes variously under the titles 'realism,' realpolitik, or 'power politics'."(n10) He is apparently unaware of the difference between a pessimistic view of human nature, on which political realism is based, and a pessimistic view of international relations, never held by political realists such as Niccolo Machiavelli or Hans Morgenthau--two thinkers Fukuyama "analyzes" in order to "understand the impact of spreading democracy on international politics." As a "prescriptive doctrine," he finds the realist perspective on international relations still relevant. As a "descriptive model," however, it leaves much to be desired because: "There was no 'objective' national interest that provided a common thread to the behavior of states in different times and places, but a plurality of national interests defined by the principle of legitimacy in play and the individuals who interpreted it." This betrays a misunderstanding of political realism or, more plausibly, a deliberate attempt to misrepresent it in order to appear original. Although he draws different and even antithetical conclusions, Fukuyama's claim is not inconsistent with political realism.(n11)
Following this ploy, Fukuyama reiterates his main argument that: "Peace will arise instead out of the specific nature of democratic legitimacy, and its ability to satisfy the human longings for recognition."(n12) He is apparently unaware of the distinction between legality and legitimacy, and of the tendency within liberal democracies for legality to become its own mode of legitimation.(n13) Even in countries in which legality remains determined independently by a democratic legislative body, there is no reason to believe it will be concerned primarily or at all with satisfying any "human longing for recognition"; rather, it will pursue whatever goals the predominant culture deems desirable. Consequently, it does not necessarily follow that, were democratic legitimacy to become universalized with the end of the Cold War, international conflict would also end and history along with it. Even Fukuyama admits that: "For the foreseeable future, the world will be divided between a post-historical part, and a part that is still stuck in history. Within the post-historical part, the chief axis of interaction between states would be economic, and the old rules of power politics would have decreasing relevance."(n14)
This is nothing more than the reconfiguration of a standard liberal argument in a new metaphysical guise: the old historical world determined by politics will be displaced by the new post-historical world determined by economics. Schmitt rejected this argument in the 1920s: according to liberals, the "concept of the state should be determined by political means, the concept of society (in essence nonpolitical) by economic means," but this distinction is prejudiced by the liberal aversion to politics understood as a domain of domination and corruption resulting in the privileging of economics understood as "reciprocity of production and consumption, therefore mutuality, equality, justice, and freedom, and finally, nothing less than the spiritual union of fellowship, brotherhood, and justice."(n15) In effect, Fukuyama is simply recycling traditional liberal efforts to eliminate the political(n16)--a maneuver essential for his thesis of the arrival of "the end of history" with the end of the Cold War. Accordingly: "The United States and other liberal democracies will have to come to grips with the fact that, with the collapse of the communist world, the world in which they live is less and less the old one of geopolitics, and that the rules and methods of the historical world are not appropriate to life in the post-historical one. For the latter, the major issues will be economic."(n17) Responding to Walter Rathenau's claim in the 1920s that the destiny then was not politics but economics, Schmitt said "what has occurred is that economics has become political and thereby the destiny."(n18)
For Fukuyama, the old historical world is none other than the European world: "Imperialism and war were historically the product of aristocratic societies. If liberal democracy abolished the class distinction between masters and slaves by making the slaves their own masters, then it too should eventually abolish imperialism."(n19) This inference is based on a faulty analogy between social and international relations. Not surprisingly, Fukuyama really believes that "international law is merely domestic law writ large."(n20) Compounded with an uncritical belief in the theory of progress and teleological history, this leads him to generalize his own and Kojeve's questionable interpretation of the master-slave dialectic (understood as the logic of all social relations) to include international relations: "If the advent of the universal and homogeneous state means the establishment of rational recognition on the level of individuals living within one society, and the abolition of the relationship of lordship and bondage between them, then the spread of that type of state throughout the international system of states should imply the end of relationships of lordship and bondage between nations as well--i.e., the end of imperialism, and with it, a decrease in the likelihood of wars based on imperialism."(n21) Even if a "universal and homogeneous state" were possible today, in an age when all nation-states are becoming ethnically, racially, linguistically and culturally heterogeneous, it is unclear why domestic and international relations should be isomorphic. Rather, the opposite may very well be the case: increasing domestic heterogeneity is matched by an increasingly heterogeneous international scene where "the other" is not regarded as an equal but as "a paper tiger," "the Great Satan," "religious fanatics," etc.
At any rate, imperialism for Fukuyama is not a particular historical phenomenon which came about because of the discovery of the New World at the beginning of the age of exploration by the European powers. Rather, it is seen as the result of some metaphysical ahistorical "struggle for recognition among states."(n22) It "arises directly out of the aristocratic master's desire to be recognized as superior--his megalothymia."(n23) Ergo: "The persistence of imperialism and war after the great bourgeois revolutions of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is therefore due not only to the survival of an atavistic warrior ethos, but also to the fact that the master's megalothymia was incompletely sublimated into economic activity."(n24) Thus the formal market relation between buyer and seller, both reduced to the level of the hyper-rational and calculating homo oeconomicus, comes to displace the master-slave dialectic whereby, miraculously, the interaction between these economic abstractions generates as much recognition as anyone would want, rendering conflict obsolete and putting an end to history.
In terms of Fukuyama's own formulation, the real end of history, as he understands it, is not even close. In his scenario, since there are still a lot of unresolved conflicts between the historical and the post-historical worlds, there will be a whole series of "world order" problems and "many post-historical countries will formulate an abstract interest in preventing the spread of certain technologies to the historical world, on the grounds that world will be most prone to conflict and violence."(n25) Although the failure of the League of Nations and the UN has led to the general discrediting of "Kantian internationalism and international law," in the final analysis, despite his Heideggerian Hegelianism, Fukuyama does not find the answer to the end of history in Hegel, Nietzsche or even Kojeve,(n26) but rather in Kant, who argued that the gains realized when man moved from the state of nature to civilization were largely nullified by wars between nations. According to Fukuyama, what has not been understood is that "the actual incarnations of the Kantian idea have been seriously flawed from the start by not following Kant's own precepts," by which he means that states based on republican principles are less likely than despotisms to accept the costs of war and that an international federation is only viable if it is based on liberal principles.
Although Huntington has a much better grasp of international relations than Fukuyama, his decline of the West scenario is equally unconvincing. The central theme of his book is that "culture and cultural identities, which at the broadest level are civilization identities, are shaping the patterns of cohesion, disintegration, and conflict in the post-Cold War world."(n27) But whereas Fukuyama couches his thesis in terms of a universal desire for recognition, Huntington couches his thesis in terms of a global search for identity: "Peoples and nations are attempting to answer the most basic question humans can face: Who are we?"(n28) The result is a "multipolar and multi-civilizational" world within which the West should abandon its presumed universalism and defend its own particular identity: "In the clash of civilizations, Europe and America will hang together or hang separately. In the greater clash, the global 'real clash,' between Civilization and barbarism, the worlds great civilizations . . . will also hang together or hang separately. In the emerging era, clashes of civilizations are the greatest threat to world peace, and an international order based on civilizations is the surest safeguard against world war."(n29)
In Huntington's new world, "societies sharing civilizational affinities cooperate with each other."(n30) Leaving aside his cavalier blurring of the differences between cultures, civilizations and societies, what does Huntington regard as the essence of Western particularism? Here he is ambiguous: he first mentions Christianity, then some secular residues of Christianity, but when he adds up the civilizational core of the West it turns out to be none other than liberalism. As Stephen Holmes points out, it is "the same old ideology, plucked inexplicably from the waste-bin of history that once united the West against Soviet Communism."(n31) But Huntington also claims that the West had a distinct identity long before it was modern (since he insists that modernization is distinct from Westernization, so that non-Western societies can modernize without Westernizing, thus retaining their civilizational distinctiveness). In this case, however, the West cannot really be identified with liberalism, nor can its heritage be equated sic et nunc with "American national identity." While liberalism may very well be declining, this need not translate into a decline of the West as such. Similarly, if "American national identity" is threatened by "multiculturalism,"(n32) it need not signal the arrival of barbarians at the gates but may only mark another stage in the statist involution of liberalism. Huntington's fears of a decline of the West at a time when it is actually at the acme of its power and vigor is the result of the unwarranted identification of Western civilization with liberalism and what he understands by "American national identity." Today liberalism has degenerated into an opportunistic statist program of "a small but influential number of intellectuals and publicists," and "American national identity" into a fiction invented as part of a failed project after the War between the States to reconfigure the American federation into a nation-state.(n33)
According to Huntington? the assumption of the universality of Western culture is: false, because others civilizations have other ideals and norms; immoral, because "imperialism is the logical result of universalism"; and dangerous, because it could lead to major civilizational wars.(n34) His equation of universalism and imperialism, however, misses the point of both it misunderstands the philosophical foundations of Western culture and the historical roots of Western imperialism. Other civilizations do have their own ideals and norms, but only Western civilization has an outlook broad enough to embrace all other cultures, which explains why it can readily sponsor and accommodate even confused and counterproductive projects such as "multiculturalism." Of course, Europeans set forth on their journeys of discovery and conquest not only in order to bring Christianity and "civilization" to the world but also to plunder whatever riches they could find. But whatever the reasons, Europeans were the ones who opened the world to global consciousness and what Schmitt called "awakened occidental rationalism."
Until recently, largely because of American cultural hegemony and technological supremacy, the goal of the rest of the world has been "Westernization," which has come to be regarded as synonymous with modernization. In Huntington's "realist" view, however: "A universal civilization requires universal power. Roman power created a near universal civilization within the limited confines of the Classical world. Western power in the form of European colonialism in the nineteenth century and American hegemony in the twentieth century extended Western culture throughout much of the contemporary world. European colonialism is over; American hegemony is receding."(n35) The real question is whether continued American world hegemony is primarily a function of the persistence of colonialism. Despite his emphasis on culture and civilization, Huntington does not appreciate the importance of cultural hegemony.? Had he not restricted the Western tradition to late 20th century liberalism, he may have appreciated the extent to which the rest of the world is becoming increasingly more, rather than less dependent on the US--in communication technologies, financial matters and even aesthetic forms. Today the Internet is potentially a more formidable agency of cultural domination and control than was the British Navy at the peak of the Empire. Here McNeill is right: Huntington's gloomy perception of the decline of the West may merely mistake growing pains for death throes.
If Huntington's salon Spenglerianism were not bad enough, he also adopts a kind of simplistic Schmittianism (without ever mentioning Schmitt). Complementing his "birds of a feather flock together" concept of civilizations --with "core states" assuming a dominant position in relation to "fault line" states--he pictures an "us versus them" type of friend/enemy relations based on ethnic and religious identities. But Schmitt's friend/enemy antithesis is concerned with relations between political groups: first and foremost, states. Accordingly, any organized group that can distinguish between friends and enemies in an existential sense becomes thereby political. Unlike Huntington (or Kojeve, who also explicitly drew geopolitical lines primarily along religious lines(n36), Schmitt did not think in terms of ethnic or religious categories but rather territorial and geopolitical concepts. For Schmitt, the state was the greatest achievement of Western civilization because, as the main agency of secularization, it ended the religious civil wars of the Middle Ages by limiting war to a conflict between states.(n37) In view of the decline of the state, Schmitt analyzed political realities and provided a prognosis of possible future territorial aggregations and new types of political forms.
Huntington finds the "realist" school of international affairs "a highly useful starting point," but then proceeds to criticize a straw man version of it, according to which "all states perceive their interests in the same way and act in the same way." Against it, not only power but also "values, culture, and institutions pervasively influence how states define their interests.... In the post-Cold War world, states increasingly define their interests in civilizational terms."(n38) Had Huntington paid more careful attention to hans Morgenthau, George Kennan or other reputable political realists, he would have concluded that their concept of power is not as limited as his caricature of it. In particular, had he read Schmitt more closely he would not have claimed that nation-states "are and will remain the most important actors in world affairs"(n39)--at a time when economic globalization has severely eroded their former sovereignty and they are practically everywhere threatened with internal disintegration and new geopolitical organizations. At any rate, political realism has been concerned primarily with the behavior of states because they were the main subjects of political life for the past three centuries.(n40) If and when they are displaced by other political forms, political realism then shifts its focus accordingly.
Huntington attempts to think beyond the Cold War. But since he cannot think beyond the nation-state, he cannot conceive of new political forms. When he writes that cultural commonality "legitimates the leadership and order-imposing role of the core state for both member states and for the external powers and institutions,"(n41) he seems to have in mind something akin to the concept of GroBraum.(n42) But Schmitt's model was the American Monroe Doctrine excluding European meddling in the Western Hemisphere. At that time (and well into the 20th century), the US was not a nation-state in the European sense, although it assumed some of these trappings thereafter. Thus it generally followed George Washington's policy--because of the "detached and distant situation" of the US, it should avoid entangling alliances with foreign (primarily European) powers. The Monroe Doctrine simply expanded on the reality and advantages of this situation. Schmitt rightly saw the global line of the Western Hemisphere drawn by the Monroe Doctrine as the first major challenge to the international law of the ius publicum Europaeum.
Given the current understanding of national sovereignty, it is difficult to see what Huntington means by "core state." Despite the title of his book, he has no concept of international law or of world order. Not only does he abandon hope for global regulations governing the behavior of states and civilizations, but he reverts to a kind of anthropological primitivism: "Civilizations are the ultimate human tribes, and the clash of civilizations is tribal conflict on a global scale."(n43) All he can suggest for avoiding major inter-civilizational wars is the "abstention rule" (core states abstain from conflicts in other civilizations), and the "mediation rule" (core states negotiate with each other to halt fault line wars).(n44) Huntington's vision is thus surprisingly conformist--it merely cautions the US from becoming embroiled in the Realpolitik of countries belonging to other civilizational blocs while defending a contrived liberal notion of"Western" civilization.
Anti-Colonialism and Appropriation
The anti-colonialism of both Fukuyama and Huntington is consistent with the predominant 20th century ideology directed primarily against Europe. Anti-colonialism is more historically significant than either anti-fascism and anti-communism. As Schmitt pointed out in 1962: "Both in theory and practice, anti-colonialism has an ideological objective. Above all, it is propaganda--more specifically, anti-European propaganda. Most of the history of propaganda consists of propaganda campaigns which, unfortunately, began as internal European squabbles. First there was France's and England's anti-Spanish propaganda--the leyenda negra of the 15th and 16th centuries. Then this propaganda became generalized during the 18th century. Finally, in the historical view of Arnold Toynbee, a UN consultant, the whole of Europe is indicted as a world aggressor."(n45) Thus it is not surprising that the 500th anniversary of the "discovery" of America was greeted with more condemnation than celebration.(n46)
Anti-colonialism is primarily anti-European propaganda because it unduly castigates the European powers for having sponsored colonialism.(n47) Given that there was no international law forbidding the appropriation of the newly discovered lands--in fact, European international and ecclesiastical law made it legal and established rules for doing so--the moral and legal basis for this judgment is unclear. On closer analysis, however, it turns out to be none other than the West's own universalistic pretenses. Only by ontologizing their particular Western humanist morality--various versions of secularized Christianity--as universally valid for all times and all places can Western intellectuals indict colonialism after the fact as an international "crime." Worse yet, this indictment eventually turns into a wholesale condemnation of Western culture (branded as "Eurocentrism") from an abstract, deterritorialized and deracinated humanist perspective hypostatized to the level of a universally binding absolute morality. Thus the original impulse to vindicate the particularity and otherness of the victims of colonialism turns full circle by subsuming all within a foreign Western frame-work, thereby obliterating the otherness of the original victims. The ideology of anti-colonialism is thus not only anti-European propaganda but an invention of Europeans themselves, although it has been appropriated wholesale and politically customized by the rest of the world.
As for world order, this propaganda has even more fundamental roots: "The odium of colonialism, which today confronts all Europeans, is the odium of appropriation,"(n48) since now everything understood as nomos is allegedly concerned only with distribution and production, even though appropriation remains one of its fundamental, if not the most fundamental, attributes. As Schmitt notes: "World history is a history of progress in the means and methods of appropriation: from land appropriations of nomadic and agricultural-feudal times, to sea appropriations of the 16th and 17th centuries, to the industrial appropriations of the industrial-technical age and its distinction between developed and undeveloped areas, to the present day appropriations of air and space."(n49) More to the point, however, is that "until now, things have somehow been appropriated, distributed and produced. Prior to every legal, economic and social order, prior to every legal, economic or social theory, there is the simple question: Where and how was it appropriated? Where and how was it divided? Where and how was it produced ? But the sequence of these processes is the major problem. It has often changed in accordance with how appropriation, distribution and production are emphasized and evaluated practically and morally in human consciousness. The sequence and evaluation follow changes in historical situations and general world history, methods of production and manufacture--even the image human beings have of themselves, of their world and of their historical situation."(n50) Thus the odium of appropriation exemplified by the rise of anti-colonialism is symptomatic of a changed world situation and changed attitudes. But this state of affairs should not prevent our understanding of what occurred in the past or what is occurring in the present.
In order to dispel the "fog of this anti-European ideology," Schmitt recalls that "everything that can be called international law has for centuries been European international law. . . [and that] all the classical concepts of existing international law are those of European international law, the ius publicum Europaeum. In particular, these are the concepts of war and peace. as well as two fundamental conceptual distinctions: first, the distinction between war and peace, i.e., the exclusion of an in-between situation of neither war nor peace so characteristic of the Cold War; and second, the conceptual distinction between enemy and criminal, i.e. exclusion of the discrimination and criminalization of the opponent so characteristic of revolutionary war--a war closely tied to the Cold War."(n51) But Schmitt was more concerned with the "spatial" aspect of the phenomenon: "What remains of the classical ideas of international law has its roots in a purely Eurocentric spatial order. Anti-colonialism is a phenomenon related to its destruction.... Aside from ... the criminalization of European nations, it has not generated one single idea about a new order. Still rooted, if only negatively, in a spatial idea, it cannot positively propose even the beginning of a new spatial order."(n52)
Having discovered the world as a globe, Europeans also developed the Law of Nations. Hugo Grotius is usually credited with establishing this new discipline with his De lure belli ac pacts (Paris: 1625), since he was the first to deal with the subject as a whole (although various European scholars had dealt at length with themes such as the justice of war, the right of plunder, the treatment of captives, etc.). Nys writes: ". . . from the I 1th to the 1 2th century the genius of Europe developed an association of republics, principalities and kingdoms, which was the beginning of the society of nations. Undoubtedly, some elements of it had been borrowed from Greek and Roman antiquity, from Byzantine institutions, from the Arabo-Berber sultanates on the coast of Africa and from the Moorish kingdoms of Spain. But at the time new sentiments developed, longing for political liberty. The members of this association were united by religious bonds; they had the same faith; they were not widely separated by speech and, at any rate, they had access to Latin, the language of the Church; they admitted a certain equality or at least none of them claimed the right to dominate and rule over the others. A formula came into use to describe this state of affairs: respublica a Christiana, res Christina."(n53)
Steeped in Roman law, 1 3th and 1 4th century jurists opposed any "Law of Nations" recognizing political distinctions between different peoples. In the Roman system, different peoples were only "parts of the Roman Empire." Thus, in a wider sense, ius gentium extended to all civilized peoples and included both public and private law. In a narrower sense, however, it also dealt with the rules governing relations between Romans and foreigners. Understood in this narrower sense, ius gentium promoted the constitution of distinct peoples and consequently kingdoms, intercourse and conflicts between different political communities, and ultimately wars. For this reason, those who still believed in the viability of the Holy Roman Empire thought that this interpretation of ius gentium led to disintegration. This is why the Law of Nations--European public law and international law--did not become a distinct "science" until the Middle Ages.
Spanish theologians first articulated the theoretical and practical problems of ius gentium understood as the Law of Nations. Chief among them was Francisco de Vitoria, whose Relectiones theologicae on the Indians and the right of a "just war" have become classics.(n54) In his lectures, Vitoria invokes the Law of Nations--the ius gentium. At the beginning of the third section of his account of the Spaniards' relations with the aborigines in the New World, he treats them as one people among others, and therefore subject to ius gentium: "The Spaniards have a right to travel into the lands in question and to sojourn there, provided they do no harm to the natives, and the natives may not prevent them. Proof of this may in the first place be derived from the law of nations (ius gentium), which either is natural law or is derived from natural law."(n55) That he understands peoples in the sense of "nations" becomes even more clear when he speaks about gentes nationes. He distinguishes between the political community--the respublica--and the private individual. The latter may defend his person and his property, but he may not avenge wrongs or retake goods after the passage of time. This is the respublica's prerogative--it alone has authority to defend itself and its members. Here Vitoria identifies the prince's authority with that of the state: "The prince is the issue of the election made by the respublica.... The state, properly so called, is a perfect community, that is to say, a community which forms a whole in itself, which, in other words, is not a part of another community, but which possesses its own laws, its own council, its own magistrates."(n56)
Clearly, what developed in Europe from antiquity to the respublica Christiana, from the origin of the sovereign state and ius publicum Europaeum to the Enlightenment and beyond, was as unique and significant as the discovery of the "New World." Yet, given today's predominant ideology, European culture has almost become the truth that dare not speak its name. Not only is Columbus demonized, but the whole Age of Discovery and all of European (Western) culture is dismissed as "imperialistic," "racist?" "sexist," etc. The Nomos of the Earth is a much needed antidote to this anti-European propaganda, which is only a symptom of the crisis of European identity and consciousness.(n57) All the major themes of Schmitt's book are either implicit or explicit in "The Land Appropriation of a New World": the origin and significance of the European and Eurocentric epoch of world history; the discovery of the New World and the American challenge to the European order; the search for a new nomos of the earth; the critique of the discriminatory concept of war; the critique of universalism and the danger of total relativism.
The Conquest of America and the Concept of a "Just War"
In the 20th century, the ideology of anti-colonialism was articulated most prominently by Woodrow Wilson and Vladimir Lenin, signaling the end of European domination in world history. Now, after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of communism, some American intellectuals have turned this anti-European propaganda against the US, seemingly unaware that their critique is possible only within the orbit of the European culture they otherwise castigate and dismiss. To attack European culture is tantamount to attacking American culture as well, since the latter is but a special case of the former, which is precisely why it has been able to accept and absorb peoples and influences not only from the Western hemisphere but from all over the world. American universalism is but an extension of that same Christian universalism which for centuries has defined European identity. As Schmitt emphasized, the European equilibrium of the ius publicum Europaeum presupposed a seemingly homogeneous Christian Europe, which lasted well into the 19th century. The American project has always been a fundamentally heterogeneous undertaking and Americans have always come from the most diverse ethnic, racial, religious and linguistic backgrounds. But if there had not been some homogeneous culture to unity this diversity, there would have been no distinct American culture which, unfortunately, today many educated Europeans and Americans no longer understand and therefore have come to despise.
A paradigmatic example of this general anti-European syndrome is Tzvetan Todorov's The Conquest of America. In an effort to vindicate the particularity of "the other," the author ends up castigating West European culture as a whole by deploying a secularized version of Christian universalism. Openly acknowledging the moralistic objectives and "mythological" character of his account,(n58) Todorov develops a "politically correct" postmodern interpretation of the Spanish conquista not to understand its historical significance but to show how it has shaped today's Western imperialist identity--one allegedly still unable to come to terms with "the other" and therefore inherently racist, ethnocentric, etc. The book closes with a discussion of "Las Casas' Prophesy" concerning the wrath that "God will vent" not only upon Spain but all of Western Europe because of its "impious, criminal and ignominious deeds perpetrated so unjustly, tyrannically and barbarously."(n59)
Todorov overlooks not only the generally religious framework of Las Casas' prophesy, but also the idiosyncratically Western concept of justice the Dominican bishop deployed. Having ontologized a humanism derived from the Western axiological patrimony, he does not realize the extent to which his postmodernism has already reduced "the other" to "the same," precisely in his effort to vindicate its particularity.(n60) Worse yet, inhibited by his "politically correct" moralism, he not only provides a ridiculous, if academically fashionable, explanation for the Spaniards' success,(n61) but he manages to subvert his own arguments with the very evidence he adduces to support them. He claims that the "present" is more important to him than the past, but in defining genocide he makes no reference whatsoever to either the Armenians or the Holocaust as reference points. Consequently, his claim that "the sixteenth century perpetuated the greatest genocide in human history"(n62) remains not only unsubstantiated but falsified. By his own account, most of the victims died of diseases and other indirect causes: "The Spaniards did not undertake a direct extermination of these millions of Indians, nor could they have done so." The main causes were three, and "the Spaniards responsibility is inversely proportional to the number of victims deriving from each of them: 1. By direct murder, during wars or outside them: a high number, nonetheless relatively small; direct responsibility. 2. By consequence of bad treatment: a high number; a (barely) less direct responsibility. 3. By diseases, by `microbe shock': the majority of the population; an indirect and diffused responsibility."(n63)
Todorov does acknowledge that Columbus was motivated by the "universal victory of Christianity" and that it was Columbus' medieval mentality that led him "to discover America and inaugurate the modern era."(n64) His greatest infraction, however, was that he conquered land rather than people, i.e., he was more interested in nature than in the Indians, which he is treated as "the other", "Columbus summary perception of the Indians [is] a mixture of authoritarianism and condescension . . . In Columus' hermeneutics human beings have no particular place."(n65) Had Todorov set aside his abstract moralizing, he may have realized that the conquest of the New World was primarily a land appropriation. It is not surprising, therefore, that the conquerors thought they were bringing "civilization" to those they conquered--something probably also true of the Mongols who invaded and colonized China, Russia and a few other which, by contrast, had higher than thier own.
The ideological slant of The Conquest of America is by no means unusual. Long before, Schmitt noted that non-European peoples who have undertaken conquest, land appropriations, etc. were not being tarred with the same brush as Europeans.(n66) Unlike Todorov's moralistic tirade, The Nomos of the Earth is dressed to historians and jurists. In no ways does Schmitt excuse the atrocities committed by the Spanish, but rather explains how they were possible in the given circumstances. "The Land Appropriation of a New World" begins with a discussion of the lines drawn by the European powers to divide the world. In this connection, Schmitt discusses the meaning of "beyond the line," which meant beyondn the reach of European law: " At this`line' Europe ended and `New World' began. At any rate, European law -- `European public law' -- ended. Consequently, so did the bracketing of war achieved by the former European international law, meaning the struggle for land appropriations knew no bounds. Beyond the line was an `overseas' zone in which, for want of any legal limits to war, only, the law of the stronger applied."n(67) For Todorov, it is a much simpler explanation: "Far from central government, far from royal law, all prohibitions give way, the social link, already loosened, snaps, revealing not a primitive nature, the beast sleeping in each of us, but a modern being? one with a great future in fact, restrained by no morality and inflicting death because and when he pleases."(n68) The Spaniards are simply racist, ethno-centric, ruthless exploiters, etc., i.e., modern -- they already exhibited traits Todorov claims are characteristic of Western identity.
Of particular interest here are Todorov's comments on Vitoria and the concept of a "just war," since most of Schmitt's chapter is devoted to these subjects. By his own admission, Todorov mixes (in fact, confuses) medieval and modern categories. This is particularly true in the case of Vitoria. Todorov observes that: "Vitoria demolishes the contemporary justifications of the wars waged in America, but nonetheless conceives that `just wars' are possible."(n69) More to the point: "We are accustomed to seeing Vitoria as a defender of the Indians; but if we question, not the subject's intentions, hut the impact of his discourses, it is clear that . . . under the cover of an international law based on reciprocity, he in reality supplies a legal basis to the wars of colonization which had hitherto had none (none which, in any case, might withstand serious consideration)."(n70) But there was no "international law based on reciprocity." Here Todorov is simply transposing modern categories to medieval matters for his own ideological purposes.
Unlike Todorov, Schmitt places the problem in perspective: "For 400 years, from the 16th to the 20th century, the structure of European international law was determined by a fundamental course of events the conquest of the New World. Then, as later, there were numerous positions taken with respect to the justice or injustice of the conquista. Nevertheless, the fundamental problem the justification of European land appropriations as a whole -- was seldom addressed in any systematic way outside moral and legal questions. In fact, only one monograph deals with this problem systematically and confronts it squarely in terms of international law.... It is the famous relectiones of Francisco de Vitoria."(n71) Vitoria rejected the contrary opinions of other theologians and treated Christians and non-Christians alike. He did not even accept discovery, which was the recognized basis of legal title from the 1 6th to the 1 8th century, as legitimate. More to the point, he considered global lines beyond which the distinction between justice and injustice was suspended not only a sin but an appalling crime. However: "Vitoria's view of the conquista was ultimately altogether positive. Most significant for him was the fait accompli of Christianization. . . . The positive conclusion is reached only by means of general concepts and with the aid of objective arguments in support of a just war.... If barbarians opposed the right of free passage and free missions, of liberum commercium and free propaganda, then they would violate the existing rights of the Spanish according to ius gentium; if the peaceful treaties of the Spanish were of no avail, then they had grounds for a just war."(n72)
The papal missionary mandate was the legal foundation of the conquista. This was not only the pope's position but also that of the Catholic rulers of Spain. Vitoria's arguments were entirely consistent with the spatial order and the international law of the respublica Christiana. One cannot apply modern categories to a medieval context without distorting both: "In the Middle Ages, a just war could he a just war of aggression. Clearly, the formal structure of the two concepts of justice are completely different. As far as the substance of medieval justice is concerned, however, it should be remembered that Vitoria's doctrine of a just war is argued on the basis of a missionary mandate issued by a potestas spiritualis that was not only institutionally stable but intellectually self-evident. The right of liberum commercium as well as the ius peregrinandi are to facilitate the work of Christian missions and the execution of the papal missionary mandate.... Here we are interested only in the justification of land appropriation--a question Vitoria reduced to the general problem of a just war. All significant questions of an order based on international law ultimately meet in the concept of a just war."(n73)
The Question of a New Nomos of the Earth
Following chapters on "The Land Appropriation of a New World" and "The Ius Publicum Europaeum," Schmitt concludes his book with a chapter titled "The Question of a New Nomos of the Earth, which is concerned primarily with the transformation of the concept of war. Clearly, this problem was uppermost in Schmitt's mind following Germany's total defeat in WWII and the final destruction of the European system of states. But he had already devoted a treatise to the development of a discriminatory concept of war following WWI,(n74) and in 1945 he wrote a legal opinion on the criminality of aggressive war.(n75) Despite whatever self-serving motives he may have had in writing these works,(n76) they are consistent with the historical and juridical structure of international law during the respublica Christiana, the ius publicum Europaeum, and what remains of international law today.
This progression can be put into perspective by following Schmitt's discussion of Vitoria's legacy: "Vitoria was in no sense one of the `forerunners of modern lawyers dealing with constitutional questions.'. . . Abstracted entirely from spatial viewpoints, Vitoria's ahistorical method generalizes many European historical concepts specific to the ius gentium of the Middle Ages (such as yolk prince and war) and thereby strips them of their historical particularity."(n77) In this context, Schmitt mentions the works of Ernest Nys, which paved the way for the popularization of Vitoria's ideas after WWI but who, because of his belief in humanitarian progress, also contributed to the criminalization of aggressive war. This was also true of James Brown Scott, the leading American expert on international law, who blatantly instrumentalized Vitoria's doctrines concerning free trade (liberum commercium, the freedom of propaganda, and a just war) to justify American economic imperialism. Schmitt sums up Sctott's argument as follows: "War should cease to be simply a legally recognized matter or only one of legal indifference; rather, it should again become a just war in which the aggressor as such is declared a felon in the full criminal sense of the word. The former right to neutrality, grounded in the international law of the ius publicum Europaeum and based on the equivalence of just and unjust war, should also and accordingly be eliminated."(n78)
Here then is the crux of the matter. Vitoria's thinking is based on the international law obtaining during the Christian Middle Ages rather than on the international law between states established with the ius publicum Europaeum. Moreover, as Schmitt points out, Vitoria was not a jurist but a theologian: "Based on relations between states, post-medieval international law from the 1 6th to the 20th century sought to repress the iusta causa. The formal reference point for the determination of a just war was no longer the authority of the Church in international law but rather the equal sovereignty of states. Instead of iusta causa, the order of international law between states was based on iustus hostis; any war between states, between equal sovereigns, was legitimate. On the basis of this juridical formalization, a rationalization and humanization--a bracketing--of war was achieved for 200 years." The turn to "the modern age in the history of international law was accomplished by a dual division of two lines of thought that were inseparable in the Middle Ages -- the definitive separation of moral-theological from juridical-political arguments and the equally important separation of the question of iusta causa, grounded in moral arguments and natural law," from the juridical question of iustus hostis, distinguished from the criminal, i.e., from object of punitive action."(n79)
With the end of the ius publicum Europaeum, the concept of war changed once again: moralistic (rather than theologically-based) arguments became confused with political arguments, and the iusta causa displaced the just enemy (iustus hostis). Accordingly, war became a crime and the aggressor a criminal, which means that the current distinction between just and unjust war lacks any relation to Vitoria and does not even attempt to determine the iusta causa.(n80) According to Schmitt: "If today some formulas of the doctrine of a just war rooted in the concrete order of the medieval respublica Christiana are utilized in modern and global formulas, this does not signify a return to, but rather a fundamental transformation of concepts of enemy, war, concrete order and justice presupposed in medieval doctrine."(n81) This transformation is crucial to any consideration of a new nomos of the earth because these concepts must be rooted in a concrete order. Lacking such an order or nomos, these free-floating concepts do not constitute institutional standards but have only the value of ideological slogans.
Unimpressed with the duration of the Cold War and its mixture of neither war nor peace, Schmitt speculated on the possibility of the eventual development of what he called GroBetaraume(n82) -- larger spatial entities, similar to but not synonymous with federations or blocs --displacing states and constituting a new nomos.(n83) Since his death in 1985 and the subsequent collapse of communism, the likelihood of his diagnosis and prognosis has increased. While the international situation remains confused and leading intellectuals such as Fukuyama and Huntington, unable to think behind predominant liberal democratic categories, can only recycle new versions of the old Wilsonianism, Schmitt's vision of a world of GroBetaraume as a new geopolitical configuration may well be in the process of being realized.
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice, Théorie politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : philosophie, révolution conservatrice, allemagne, weimar, années 20, années 30, années 40, théorie politique, carl schmitt, politologie, sciences politiques | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
vendredi, 12 août 2011
Carl Schmitt's Decisionism
Carl Schmitt's Decisionism
Paul Hirst
Ex: http://freespeechproject.com/
Since 1945 Western nations have witnessed a dramatic reduction in the variety of positions in political theory and jurisprudence. Political argument has been virtually reduced to contests within liberal-democratic theory. Even radicals now take representative democracy as their unquestioned point of departure. There are, of course, some benefits following from this restriction of political debate. Fascist, Nazi and Stalinist political ideologies are now beyond the pale. But the hegemony of liberal-democratic political agreement tends to obscure the fact that we are thinking in terms which were already obsolete at the end of the nineteenth century.
Nazism and Stalinism frightened Western politicians into a strict adherence to liberal democracy. Political discussion remains excessively rigid, even though the liberal-democratic view of politics is grossly at odds with our political condition. Conservative theorists like Hayek try to re-create idealized political conditions of the mid nineteenth century. In so doing, they lend themselves to some of the most unsavoury interests of the late twentieth century - those determined to exploit the present undemocratic political condition. Social-democratic theorists also avoid the central question of how to ensure public accountability of big government. Many radicals see liberal democracy as a means to reform, rather than as what needs to be reformed. They attempt to extend governmental action, without devising new means of controlling governmental agencies. New Right thinkers have reinforced the situation by pitting classical liberalism against democracy, individual rights against an interventionist state. There are no challenges to representative democracy, only attempts to restrict its functions. The democratic state continues to be seen as a sovereign public power able to assure public peace.
The terms of debate have not always been so restricted. In the first three decades of this century, liberal-democratic theory and the notion of popular sovereignty through representative government were widely challenged by many groups. Much of this challenge, of course, was demagogic rhetoric presented on behalf of absurd doctrines of social reorganization. The anti-liberal criticism of Sorel, Maurras or Mussolini may be occassionally intriguing, but their alternatives are poisonous and fortunately, no longer have a place in contemporary political discussion. The same can be said of much of the ultra-leftist and communist political theory of this period.
Other arguments are dismissed only at a cost. The one I will consider here - Carl Schmitt's 'decisionism' - challenges the liberal-democratic theory of sovereignty in a way that throws considerable light on contemporary political conditions. His political theory before the Nazi seizure of power shared some assumptions with fascist political doctrine and he did attempt to become the 'crown jurist' of the new Nazi state. Nevertheless, Schmitt's work asks hard questions and points to aspects of political life too uncomfortable to ignore. Because his thinking about concrete political situations is not governed by any dogmatic political alternative, it exhibits a peculiar objectivity.
Schmitt's situational judgement stems from his view of politics or, more correctly, from his view of the political as 'friend-enemy' relations, which explains how he could change suddenly from contempt for Hitler to endorsing Nazism. If it is nihilistic to lack substantial ethical standards beyond politics, then Schmitt is a nihilist. In this, however, he is in the company of many modern political thinkers. What led him to collaborate with the Nazis from March 1933 to December 1936 was not, however, ethical nihilism, but above all concern with order. Along with many German conservatives, Schmitt saw the choice as either Hitler or chaos. As it turned out, he saved his life but lost his reputation. He lived in disrepute in the later years of the Third Reich, and died in ignominy in the Federal Republic. But political thought should not be evaluated on the basis of the authors' personal political judgements. Thus the value of Schmitt's work is not diminished by the choices he made.
Schmitt's main targets are the liberal-constitutional theory of the state and the parliamentarist conception of politics. In the former, the state is subordinated to law; it becomes the executor of purposes determined by a representative legislative assembly. In the latter, politics is dominated by 'discussion,' by the free deliberation of representatives in the assembly. Schmitt considers nineteenth-century liberal democracy anti-political and rendered impotent by a rule-bound legalism, a rationalistic concept of political debate, and the desire that individual citizens enjoy a legally guaranteed 'private' sphere protected from the state. The political is none of these things. Its essence is struggle.
In The Concept of the Political Schmitt argues that the differentia specifica of the political, which separates it from other spheres of life, such as religion or economics, is friend-enemy relations. The political comes into being when groups are placed in a relation of emnity, where each comes to perceive the other as an irreconcilable adversary to be fought and, if possible, defeated. Such relations exhibit an existential logic which overrides the motives which may have brought groups to this point. Each group now faces an opponent, and must take account of that fact: 'Every religious, moral, economic, ethical, or other antithesis transforms itself into a political one if it is sufficiently strong to group human beings effectively according to friends and enemy.' The political consists not in war or armed conflict as such, but precisely in the relation of emnity: not competition but confrontation. It is bound by no law: it is prior to no law.
For Schmitt: 'The concept of the state presupposes the concept of the political.' States arise as a means of continuing, organizing and channeling political struggle. It is political struggle which gives rise to political order. Any entity involved in friend-enemy relations is by definition political, whatever its origin or the origin of the differences leading to emnity: 'A religious community which wages wars against members of others religious communities or engages in other wars is already more than a religious community; it is a political entity.' The political condition arises from the struggle of groups; internal order is imposed to pursue external conflict. To view the state as the settled and orderly administration of a territory, concerned with the organization of its affairs according to law, is to see only the stabilized results of conflict. It is also to ignore the fact that the state stands in a relation of emnity to other states, that it holds its territory by means of armed force and that, on this basis of a monopoly of force, it can make claims to be the lawful government of that territory. The peaceful, legalistic, liberal bourgeoisie is sitting on a volcano and ignoring the fact. Their world depends on a relative stabilization of conflict within the state, and on the state's ability to keep at bay other potentially hostile states.
For Hobbes, the political state arises from a contract to submit to a sovereign who will put an end to the war of all against all which must otherwise prevail in a state of nature - an exchange of obediance for protection. Schmitt starts where Hobbes leaves off - with the natural condition between organized and competing groups or states. No amount of discussion, compromise or exhortation can settle issues between enemies. There can be no genuine agreement, because in the end there is nothing to agree about. Dominated as it is by the friend-enemy alternative, the political requires not discussion but decision. No amount of reflection can change an issue which is so existentially primitive that it precludes it. Speeches and motions in assemblies should not be contraposed to blood and iron but with the moral force of the decision, because vacillating parliamentarians can also cause considerable bloodshed.
In Schmitt's view, parliamentarism and liberalism existed in a particular historical epoch between the 'absolute' state of the seventeenth century and the 'total state' of the twentieth century. Parliamentary discussion and a liberal 'private sphere' presupposed the depoliticization of a large area of social, economic and cultural life. The state provided a legally codified order within which social customs, economic competition, religious beliefs, and so on, could be pursued without becoming 'political.' 'Politics' as such ceases to be exclusively the atter of the state when 'state and society penetrate each other.' The modern 'total state' breaks down the depoliticization on which such a narrow view of politics could rest:
Heretofore ostensibly neutral domains - religion, culture, education, the economy - then cease to be neutral. . . Against such neutralizations and depoliticizations of important domains appears the total state, which potentially embraces every domain. This results in the identity of the state and society. In such a state. . . everything is at least potentially political, and in referring to the state it is no longer possible to assert for it a specifically political characteristic.
Democracy and liberalism are fundamentally antagonistic. Democracy does away with the depoliticizations characteristic of rule by a narrow bourgeois stratum insulated from popular demands. Mass politics means a broadening of the agenda to include the affairs of all society - everything is potentially political. Mass politics also threatens existing forms of legal order. The politicization of all domains increases pressure on the state by multiplying the competing interests demanding action; at the same time, the function of the liberal legal framework - the regulating of the 'private sphere' - become inadequate. Once all social affairs become political, the existing constitutional framework threatens the social order: politics becomes a contest of organized parties seeking to prevail rather than to acheive reconciliation. The result is a state bound by law to allow every party an 'equal chance' for power: a weak state threatened with dissolution.
Schmitt may be an authoritarian conservative. But his diagnosis of the defects of parliamentarism and liberalism is an objective analysis rather than a mere restatement of value preferences. His concept of 'sovereignty' is challenging because it forces us to think very carefully about the conjuring trick which is 'law.' Liberalism tries to make the state subject to law. Laws are lawful if properly enacted according to set procedures; hence the 'rule of law.' In much liberal-democratic constitutional doctrine the legislature is held to be 'sovereign': it derives its law-making power from the will of the people expressed through their 'representatives.' Liberalism relies on a constituting political moment in order that the 'sovereignty' implied in democratic legislatures be unable to modify at will not only specific laws but also law-making processes. It is therefore threatened by a condition of politics which converts the 'rule of law' into a merely formal doctrine. If this 'rule of law' is simply the people's will expressed through their representatives, then it has no determinate content and the state is no longer substantially bound by law in its actions.
Classical liberalism implies a highly conservative version of the rule of law and a sovereignty limited by a constitutive political act beyond the reach of normal politics. Democracy threatens the parliamentary-constitutional regime with a boundless sovereign power claimed in the name of the 'people.' This reveals that all legal orders have an 'outside'; they rest on a political condition which is prior to and not bound by the law. A constitution can survive only if the constituting political act is upheld by some political power. The 'people' exist only in the claims of that tiny minority (their 'representatives') which functions as a 'majority' in the legislative assembly. 'Sovereignty' is thus not a matter of formal constitutional doctrine or essentially hypocritical references to the 'people'; it is a matter of determining which particular agency has the capacity - outside of law - to impose an order which, because it is political, can become legal.
Schmitt's analysis cuts through three hundred years of political theory and public law doctrine to define sovereignty in a way that renders irrelevant the endless debates about principles of political organization or the formal constitutional powers of different bodies.
From a practical or theoretical perspective, it really does not matter whether an abstract scheme advanced to define sovereignty (namely, that sovereignty is the highest power, not a derived power) is acceptable. About an abstract concept there will be no argument. . . What is argued about is the concrete application, and that means who decides in a situation of conflict what constitutes the public interest or interest of the state, public safety and order, le salut public, and so on. The exception, which is not codified in the existing legal order, can at best be characterized as a case of extreme peril, a danger to the existence of the state, or the like, but it cannot be circumscribed factually and made to conform to a preformed law.
Brutally put: ' Sovereign is he who decides on the exception.' The sovereign is a definite agency capable of making a decision, not a legitimating category (the 'people') or a purely formal definition (plentitude of power, etc.). Sovereignty is outside the law, since the actions of the sovereign in the state of exception cannot be bound by laws since laws presuppose a normal situation. To claim that this is anti-legal is to ignore the fact that all laws have an outside, that they exist because of a substantiated claim on the part of some agency to be the dominant source of binding rules within a territory. The sovereign determines the possibility of the 'rule of law' by deciding on the exception: 'For a legal order to make sense, a normal situation must exist, and he is sovereign who definitely decides whether this normal situation actually exists.'
Schmitt's concept of the exception is neither nihilistic nor anarchistic, it is concerned with the preservation of the state and the defence of legitimately constituted government and the stable institutions of society. He argues that ' the exception is different from anarchy and chaos.' It is an attempt to restore order in a political sense. While the state of exception can know no norms, the actions of the sovereign within the state must be governed by what is prudent to restore order. Barbaric excess and pure arbitrary power are not Schmitt's objecty. power is limited by a prudent concern for the social order; in the exception, 'order in the juristic sense still prevails, even if it is not of the ordinary kind.' Schmitt may be a relativist with regard to ultimate values in politics. But he is certainly a conservative concerned with defending a political framework in which the 'concrete orders' of society can be preserved, which distinguishes his thinking from both fascism and Nazism in their subordination of all social institutions to such idealized entities as the Leader and the People. For Schmitt, the exception is never the rule, as it is with fascism and Nazism. If he persists in demonstrating how law depends on politics, the norm on the exception, stability on struggle, he points up the contrary illusions of fascism and Nazism. In fact, Schmitt's work can be used as a critique of both. The ruthless logic in his analsysis of the political, the nature of soveriegnty, and the exception demonstrates the irrationality of fascism and Nazism. The exception cannot be made the rule in the 'total state' without reducing society to such a disorder through the political actions of the mass party that the very survival of the state is threatened. The Nazi state sought war as the highest goal in politics, but conducted its affairs in such a chaotic way that its war-making capacity was undermined and its war aims became fatally overextended. Schmitt's friend-enemy thesis is concerned with avoiding the danger that the logic of the political will reach its conclusion in unlimited war.
Schmitt modernizes the absolutist doctrines of Bodin and Hobbes. His jurisprudence restores - in the exception rather than the norm - the sovereign as uncommanded commander. For Hobbes, lawas are orders given by those with authority - authoritas non veritas facit legem. Confronted with complex systems of procedural limitation in public law and with the formalization of law into a system, laws become far more complex than orders. Modern legal positivism could point to a normal liberal-parliamentary legal order which did and still does appear to contradict Hobbes. Even in the somewhat modernized form of John Austin, the Hobbesian view of sovereignty is rejected on all sides. Schmitt shared neither the simplistic view of Hobbes that this implies, nor the indifference of modern legal positivism to the political foundation of law. He founded his jurisprudence neither on the normal workings of the legal order nor on the formal niceties of constitutional doctrine, but on a condition quite alien to them. 'Normalcy' rests not on legal or constitutional conditions but on a certain balance of political forces, a certain capacity of the state to impose order by force should the need arise. This is especially true of liberal-parliamentary regimes, whose public law requires stablization of political conflicts and considerable police and war powers even to begin to have the slightest chance of functioning at all. Law cannot itself form a completely rational and lawful system; the analysis of the state must make reference to those agencies which have the capacity to decide on the state of exception and not merely a formal plentitude of power.
In Political Theology Schmitt claims that the concepts of the modern theory of the state are secularized theological concepts. This is obvious in the case of the concept of sovereignty, wherein the omnipotent lawgiver is a mundane version of an all-powerful God. He argues that liberalism and parliamentarism correspond to deist views of God's action through constant and general natural laws. His own view is a form of fundamentalism in which the exception plays the same role in relation to the state as the miracles of Jesus do in confirming the Gospel. The exception reveals the legally unlimited capacity of whoever is sovereign within the state. In conventional, liberal-democratic doctrine the people are sovereign; their will is expressed through representatives. Schmitt argues that modern democracy is a form of populism in that the people are mobilized by propaganda and organized interests. Such a democracy bases legitimacy on the people's will. Thus parliament exists on the sufferance of political parties, propaganda agencies and organized interest which compete for popular 'consent.' When parliamentary forms and the rule of 'law' become inadequate to the political situation, they will be dispensed with in the name of the people: 'No other constitutional institution can withstand the sole criterion of the people's will, however it is expressed.'
Schmitt thus accepts the logic of Weber's view of plebiscitarian democracy and the rise of bureaucratic mass parties, which utterly destroy the old parliamentary notables. He uses the nineteenth-century conservatives Juan Donoso Cortes to set the essential dilemma in Political Theology: either a boundless democracy of plebiscitarian populism which will carry us wherever it will (i.e. to Marxist or fascist domination) or a dictatorship. Schmitt advocates a very specific form of dictatorship in a state of exception - a "commissarial' dictatorship, which acts to restore social stability, to preserve the concrete orders of society and restore the constitution. The dictator has a constitutional office. He acts in the name of the constitution, but takes such measures as are necessary to preserve order. these measures are not bound by law; they are extralegal.
Schmitt's doctrine thus involves a paradox. For all its stress on friend-enemy relations, on decisive political action, its core, its aim, is the maintenance of stability and order. It is founded on a political non-law, but not in the interest of lawlessness. Schmitt insists that the constitution must be capable of meeting the challenge of the exception, and of allowing those measures necessary to preserve order. He is anti-liberal because he claims that liberalism cannot cope with the reality of the political; it can only insist on a legal formalism which is useless in the exceptional case. He argues that only those parties which are bound to uphold the constitution should be allowed an 'equal chance' to struggle for power. Parties which threaten the existing order and use constitutional means to challenge the constitution should be subject to rigorous control.
Schmitt's relentless attack on 'discussion' makes most democrats and radicals extremely hostile to his views. He is a determined critic of the Enlightenment. Habermas's 'ideal speech situation', in which we communicate without distortion to discover a common 'emancipatory interest', would appear to Schmitt as a trivial philosophical restatement of Guizot's view that in representative government, ' through discussion the powers-that-be are obliged to seek truth in common." Schmitt is probably right. Enemies have nothing to discuss and we can never attain a situation in which the friend-enemy distinction is abolished. Liberalism does tend to ignore the exception and the more resolute forms of political struggle.
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice, Théorie politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : philosophie, décisionisme, carl schmitt, révolution conservatrice, catholicisme, allemagne, weimar, années 20, années 30, années 40, théorie politique, politologie, sciences politiques | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
jeudi, 11 août 2011
Carl Schmitt: The Conservative Revolutionary Habitus and the Aesthetics of Horror
Carl Schmitt: The Conservative Revolutionary Habitus and the Aesthetics of Horror
Richard Wolin
Ex: http://freespeechproject.com/
"Carl Schmitt's polemical discussion of political Romanticism conceals the aestheticizing oscillations of his own political thought. In this respect, too, a kinship of spirit with the fascist intelligentsia reveals itself."
—Jürgen Habermas, "The Horrors of Autonomy: Carl Schmitt in English"
"The pinnacle of great politics is the moment in which the enemy comes into view in concrete clarity as the enemy."
—Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political (1927)
Only months after Hitler's accession to power, the eminently citable political philosopher and jurist Carl Schmitt, in the ominously titled work, Staat, Bewegung, Volk, delivered one of his better known dicta. On January 30, 1933, observes Schmitt, "one can say that 'Hegel died.'" In the vast literature on Schmitt's role in the National Socialist conquest of power, one can find many glosses on this one remark, which indeed speaks volumes. But let us at the outset be sure to catch Schmitt's meaning, for Schmitt quickly reminds us what he does not intend by this pronouncement: he does not mean to impugn the hallowed tradition of German étatistme, that is, of German "philosophies of state," among which Schmitt would like to number his own contributions to the annals of political thought. Instead, it is Hegel qua philosopher of the "bureaucratic class" or Beamtenstaat that has been definitely surpassed with Hitler's triumph. For "bureaucracy" (cf. Max Weber's characterization of "legal-bureaucratic domination") is, according to its essence, a bourgeois form of rule. As such, this class of civil servants—which Hegel in the Rechtsphilosophie deems the "universal class"—represents an impermissable drag on the sovereignty of executive authority. For Schmitt, its characteristic mode of functioning, which is based on rules and procedures that are fixed, preestablished, calculable, qualifies it as the very embodiment of bourgeois normalcy—a form of life that Schmitt strove to destroy and transcend in virtually everything he thought and wrote during the 1920s, for the very essence of the bureaucratic conduct of business is reverence for the norm, a standpoint that could not exist in great tension with the doctrines of Carl Schmitt himself, whom we know to be a philosopher of the state of emergency—of the Auhsnamhezustand (literally, the "state of exception"). Thus, in the eyes of Schmitt, Hegel had set an ignominious precedent by according this putative universal class a position of preeminence in his political thought, insofar as the primacy of the bureaucracy tends to diminish or supplant the perogative of sovereign authority.
But behind the critique of Hegel and the provocative claim that Hitler's rise coincides with Hegel's metaphorical death (a claim, that while true, should have offered, pace Schmitt, little cause for celebration) lies a further indictment, for in the remarks cited, Hegel is simultaneously perceived as an advocate of the Rechtsstaat, of "constitutionalism" and "rule of law." Therefore, in the history of German political thought, the doctrines of this very German philosopher prove to be something of a Trojan horse: they represent a primary avenue via which alien bourgeois forms of political life have infiltrated healthy and autochthonous German traditions, one of whose distinguishing features is an rejection of "constitutionalism" and all it implies. The political thought of Hegel thus represents a threat—and now we encounter another one of Schmitt's key terms from the 1920s—to German homogeneity.
Schmitt's poignant observations concerning the relationship between Hegel and Hitler expresses the idea that one tradition in German cultural life—the tradition of German idealism—has come to an end and a new set of principles—based in effect on the category of völkish homogeneity (and all it implies for Germany's political future)—has arisen to take its place. Or, to express the same thought in other terms: a tradition based on the concept of Vernuft or "reason" has given way to a political system whose new raison d'être was the principle of authoritarian decision—whose consummate embodiment was the Führerprinzep, one of the ideological cornerstones of the post-Hegelian state. To be sure, Schmitt's insight remains a source of fascination owing to its uncanny prescience: in a statement of a few words, he manages to express the quintessence of some 100 years of German historical development. At the same time, this remark also remains worthy insofar as it serves as a prism through which the vagaries of Schmitt's own intellectual biography come into unique focues: it represents an unambiguous declaration of his satiety of Germany's prior experiments with constitutional government and of his longing for a total- or Führerstaat in which the ambivalences of the parliamentary system would be abolished once and for all. Above all, however, it suggest how readily Schmitt personally made the transition from intellectual antagonist of Weimar democracy to whole-hearted supporter of National Socialist revolution. Herein lies what one may refer to as the paradox of Carl Schmitt: a man who, in the words of Hannah Arendt, was a "convinced Nazi," yet "whose very ingenious theories about the end of democracy and legal government still make arresting reading."
The focal point of our inquiry will be the distinctive intellectual "habitus" (Bourdieu) that facilitated Schmitt's alacritous transformation from respected Weimar jurist and academician to "crown jurist of the Third Reich." To understand the intellectual basis of Schmitt's political views, one must appreciate his elective affinities with that generation of so-called conservative revolutionary thinkers whose worldview was so decisive in turning the tide of public opinion against the fledgling Weimar republic. As the political theorist Kurt Sontheimer has noted: "It is hardly a matter of controversy today that certain ideological predispositions in German thought generally, but particularly in the intellectual climate of the Weimar Republic, induced a large number of German electors under the Weimar Republic to consider the National Socialist movement as less problematic than it turned out to be." And even though the nationalsocialists and the conservative revolutionaries failed to see eye to eye on many points, their respective plans for a new Germany were sufficiently close that a comparison between them is able to "throw light on the intellectual atmosphere in which, when National Socialism arose, it could seem to be a more or less presentable doctrine." Hence "National Socialism . . . derived considerable profit from thinkers like Oswald Spengler, Arthur Moeller van den Bruck, and Ernst Jünger," despite their later parting of the ways. One could without much exaggeration label this intellectual movement protofascistic, insofar as its general ideological effect consisted in providing a type of ideological-spiritual preparation for the National Socialist triumph.
Schmitt himself was never an active member of the conservative revolutionary movement, whose best known representatives—Spengler, Jünger, and van den Bruck—have been named by Sontheimer (though one might add Hans Zehrer and Othmar Spann). It would be fair to say that the major differences between Schmitt and his like-minded, influential group of right-wing intellectuals concerned a matter of form rather than substance: unlike Schmitt, most of whose writings appeared in scholarly and professional journals, the conservative revolutionaries were, to a man, nonacademics who made names for themselves as Publizisten—that is, as political writers in that same kaleidoscope and febrile world of Weimar Offentlichkeit that was the object of so much scorn in their work. But Schmitt's status as a fellow traveler in relation to the movement's main journals (such as Zehrer's influential Die Tat, activities, and circles notwithstanding, his profound intellectual affinities with this group of convinced antirepublicans are impossible to deny. In fact, in the secondary literature, it has become more common than not simply to include him as a bona fide member of the group.
The intellectual habitus shared by Schmitt and the conservative revolutionaries is in no small measure of Nietzschean derivation. Both subscribed to the immoderate verdict registered by Nietzsche on the totality of inherited Western values: those values were essentially nihilistic. Liberalism, democracy, utlitarianism, individualism, and Enlightenment rationalism were the characteristic belief structures of the decadent capitalist West; they were manifestations of a superficial Zivilisation, which failed to measure up to the sublimity of German Kultur. In opposition to a bourgeois society viewed as being in an advanced state of decomposition, Schmitt and the conservative revolutionaries counterposed the Nietzschean rites of "active nihilism." In Nietzsche's view, whatever is falling should be given a final push. Thus one of the patented conceptual oppositions proper to the conservative revolutionary habitus was that between the "hero" (or "soldier") and the "bourgeois." Whereas the hero thrives on risk, danger, and uncertainity, the life of bourgeois is devoted to petty calculations of utility and security. This conceptual opposition would occupy center stage in what was perhaps the most influential conservative revolutionary publication of the entire Weimar period, Ernst Jünger's 1932 work, Der Arbeiter (the worker), where it assumes the form of a contrast between "the worker-soldier" and "the bourgeois." If one turns, for example, to what is arguably Schmitt's major work of the 1920s, The Concept of the Political (1927), where the famous "friend-enemy" distinction is codified as the raison d'être of politics, it is difficult to ignore the profound conservative revolutionary resonances of Schmitt's argument. Indeed, it would seem that such resonances permeate, Schmitt's attempt to justify politics primarily in martial terms; that is, in light of the ultimate instance of (or to use Schmitt's own terminology) Ernstfall of battle (Kampf) or war.
Once the conservative revolutionary dimension of Schmitt's thought is brought to light, it will become clear that the continuities in his pre- and post-1933 political philosophy and stronger than the discontinuities. Yet Schmitt's own path of development from arch foe of Weimar democracy to "convinced Nazi" (Arendt) is mediated by a successive series of intellectual transformations that attest to his growing political radicalisation during the 1920s and early 1930s. He follows a route that is both predictable and sui generis: predictable insomuch as it was a route traveled by an entire generation of like-minded German conservative and nationalist intellectuals during the interwar period; sui generis, insofar as there remains an irreducible originality and perspicacity to the various Zeitdiagnosen proffered by Schmitt during the 1920s, in comparison with the at times hackneyed and familar formulations of his conservative revolutionary contemporaries.
The oxymoronic designation "conservative revolutionary" is meant to distinguish the radical turn taken during the interwar period by right-of-center German intellectuals from the stance of their "traditional conservative" counterparts, who longed for a restoration of the imagined glories of earlier German Reichs and generally stressed the desirability of a return to premodern forms of social order (e.g., Tönnies Gemeinschaft) based on aristocratic considerations of rank and privilege. As opposed to the traditional conservatives, the conservative revolutionaries (and this is true of Jünger, van den Bruck, and Schmitt), in their reflections of the German defeat in the Great War, concluded that if Germany were to be successful in the next major European conflagaration, premodern or traditional solutions would not suffice. Instead, what was necessary was "modernization," yet a form of modernization that was at the same time compatible with the (albeit mythologized) traditional German values of heroism, "will" (as opposed to "reason"), Kultur, and hierarchy. In sum, what was desired was a modern community. As Jeffrey Herf has stressed in his informative book on the subject, when one searches for the ideological origins of National Socialism, it is not so much Germany's rejection of modernity that is at issue as its selective embrace of modernity. Thus National Socialist's triumph, far from being characterized by a disdain of modernity simpliciter, was marked simultaneously by an assimilation of technical modernity and a repudiation of Western political modernity: of the values of political liberalism as they emerge from the democratic revolutions of the eighteenth century. This describes the essence of the German "third way" or Sonderweg: Germany's special path to modernity that is neither Western in the sense of England and France nor Eastern in the sense of Russia or pan-slavism.
Schmitt began his in the 1910s as a traditonal conservative, namely, as a Catholic philosopher of state. As such, his early writings revolved around a version of political authoritarianism in which the idea of a strong state was defended at all costs against the threat of liberal encroachments. In his most significant work of the decade, The Value of the State and the Significance of the Individual (1914), the balance between the two central concepts, state and individual, is struck one-sidely in favour of the former term. For Schmitt, the state, in executing its law-promulgating perogatives, cannot countenance any opposition. The uncompromising, antiliberal conclusion he draws from this observation is that "no individual can have full autonomy within the state." Or, as Schmitt unambiguously expresses a similar thought elsewhere in the same work: "the individual" is merely "a means to the essence, the state is what is important." Thus, although Schmitt displayed little inclination for the brand of jingoistic nationalism so prevalent among his German academic mandarin brethern during the war years, as Joseph Bendersky has observed, "it was precisely on the point of authoritarianism vs. liberal individualism that the views of many Catholics [such as Schmitt] and those of non-Catholic conservatives coincided."
But like other German conservatives, it was Schmitt's antipathy to liberal democratic forms of government, coupled with the political turmoil of the Weimar republic, that facilitated his transformation from a traditional conservative to a conservative revolutionary. To be sure, a full account of the intricacies of Schmitt's conservative revolutionary "conversion" would necessitate a year by year account of his political thought during the Weimar period, during which Schmitt's intellectual output was nothing if prolific, (he published virtually a book a year). Instead, for the sake of concision and the sake of fidelity to the leitmotif of the "conservative revolutionary habitus," I have elected to concentrate on three key aspects of Schmitt's intellectual transformation during this period: first, his sympathies with the vitalist (lebensphilosophisch) critique of modern rationalism; second, his philosophy of history during these years; and third, his protofascistic of the conservative revolutionary doctrine of the "total state." All three aspects, moreover, are integrally interrelated.
II.
The vitalist critique of Enlightenment rationalism is of Nietzschean provenance. In opposition to the traditional philosophical image of "man" qua animal rationalis, Nietzsche counterposes his vision of "life [as] will to power." In the course of this "transvaluation of all values," the heretofore marginalized forces of life, will, affect, and passion should reclaim the position of primacy they once enjoyed before the triumph of "Socratism." It is in precisely this spirit that Nietzsche recommends that in the future, we philosophize with our affects instead of with concepts, for in the culture of European nihilism that has triumphed with the Enlightenment, "the essence of life, its will to power, is ignored," argues Nietzsche; "one overlooks the essential priority of the spontaneous, aggressive, expansive, form-giving forces that give new interpretations and directions."
It would be difficult to overestimate the power and influence this Nietzschean critique exerted over an entire generation of antidemocratic German intellectuals during the 1920s. The anticivilizational ethos that pervades Spengler's Decline of the West—the defence of "blood and tradition" against the much lamented forces of societal rationalisation—would be unthinkable without that dimension of vitalistic Kulturkritik to which Nietzsche's work gave consummate expression. Nor would it seem that the doctrines of Klages, Geist als Widersacher der Seele (Intellect as the Antagonist of the Soul; 1929-31), would have captured the mood of the times as well as they did had it not been for the irrevocable precedent set by Nietzsche's work, for the central opposition between "life" and "intellect," as articulated by Klages and so many other German "anti-intellectual intellectuals" during the interwar period, represents an unmistakably Nietzschean inheritance.
While the conservative revolutionary components of Schmitt's worldview have been frequently noted, the paramount role played by the "philosophy of life"—above all, by the concept of cultural criticism proper to Lebensphilosophie—on his political thought has escaped the attention of most critics. However, a full understanding of Schmitt's status as a radical conservative intellectual is inseparable from an appreciation of an hitherto neglected aspect of his work.
In point of fact, determinate influences of "philosophy of life"—a movement that would feed directly into the Existenzphilosophie craze of the 1920s (Heidegger, Jaspers, and others)—are really discernable in Schmitt's pre-Weimar writings. Thus, in one of his first published works, Law and Judgment (1912), Schmitt is concerned with demonstrating the impossibility of understanding the legal order in exclusively rationalist terms, that is, as a self-sufficient, complete system of legal norms after the fashion of legal positivism. It is on this basis that Schmitt argues in a particular case, a correct decision cannot be reached solely via a process of deducation or generalisation from existing legal precedents or norms. Instead, he contends, there is always a moment of irreducible particularity to each case that defies subsumption under general principles. It is precisely this aspect of legal judgment that Schmitt finds most interesting and significant. He goes on to coin a phrase for this "extralegal" dimension that proves an inescapable aspect of all legal decision making proper: the moment of "concrete indifference," the dimension of adjudication that transcends the previously established legal norm. In essence, the moment of "concrete indifference" represents for Schmitt a type of vital substrate, an element of "pure life," that forever stands opposed to the formalism of laws as such. Thus at the heart of bourgeois society—its legal system—one finds an element of existential particularity that defies the coherence of rationalist syllogizing or formal reason.
The foregoing account of concrete indifference is a matter of more than passing or academic interest insofar as it proves a crucial harbinger of Schmitt's later decisionistic theory of sovereignty, for its its devaluation of existing legal norms as a basis for judicial decision making, the category of concrete indifference points towards the imperative nature of judicial decision itself as a self-sufficient and irreducible basis of adjudication. The vitalist dimension of Schmitt's early philosophy of law betrays itself in his thoroughgoing denigration of legal normativism—for norms are a product of arid intellectualism (Intelligenz) and, as such, hostile to life (lebensfeindlick)—and the concomitant belief that the decision alone is capable of bridging the gap between the abstractness of law and the fullness of life.
The inchoate vitalist sympathies of Schmitt's early work become full blown in his writings of the 1920s. Here, the key text is Political Theology (1922), in which Schmitt formulates his decisionist theory of politics, or, as he remarks in the work's often cited first sentance: "Sovereign is he who decides the state of exception [Ausnahmezustand]."
It would be tempting to claim from this initial, terse yet lapidry definition of sovereignty, one may deduce the totality of Schmitt's mature political thought, for it contains what we know to the be the two keywords of his political philosophy during these years: decision and the exception. Both in Schmitt's lexicon are far from value-neutral or merely descriptive concepts. Instead, they are both accorded unambiguously positive value in the economy of his thought. Thus one of the hallmarks of Schmitt's political philosophy during the Weimar years will be a privileging of Ausnahmezustand, or state of exception, vis-à-vis political normalcy.
It is my claim that Schmitt's celebration of the state of exception over conditions of political normalcy—which he essentially equates with legal positivism and "parliamentarianism"—has its basis in the vitalist critique of Enlightenment rationalism. In his initial justification of the Ausnahmezustand in Political Theology, Schmitt leaves no doubt concerning the historical pedigree of such concepts. Thus following the well-known definition of sovereignty cited earlier, he immediantly underscores its status as a "borderline concept"—a Grenzbegriff, a concept "pertaining to the outermost sphere." It is precisely this fascination with extreme or "boundry situations" (Grenzsituationen—K. Jaspers—those unique moments of existential peril that become a proving ground of individual "authenticity"—that characterizes Lebensphilosophie's sweeping critique of bourgeois "everydayness." Hence in the Grenzsituationen, Dasein glimpses transcendence and is thereby transformed from possible to real Existenz." In parallel fashion, Schmitt, by according primacy to the "state of exception" as opposed to political normalcy, tries to invest the emergency situation with a higher, existential significance and meaning.
According to the inner logic of this conceptual scheme, the "state of exception" becomes the basis for a politics of authenticity. In contrast to conditions of political normalcy, which represent the unexalted reign of the "average, the "medicore," and the "everyday," the state of exception proves capable of reincorporating a dimension of heroism and greatness that is sorely lacking in routinized, bourgeois conduct of political life.
Consequently, the superiority of the state as the ultimate, decisionistic arbiter over the emergency situation is a matter that, in Schmitt's eyes, need not be argued for, for according to Schmitt, "every rationalist interpretation falsifies the immediacy of life." Instead, in his view, the state represents a fundamental, irrefragable, existential verity, as does the category of "life" in Nietzsche's philosophy, or, as Schmitt remarks with a characteristic pith in Political Theology, "The existence of the state is undoubted proof of its superiority over the validity of the legal norm." Thus "the decision [on the state of exception] becomes instantly independent of argumentative substantiation and receives autonomous value."
But as Franz Neumann observes in Behemoth, given the lack of coherence of National Socialist ideology, the rationales provided for totalitarian practice were often couched specifically in vitalist or existential terms. In Neumann's words,
[Given the incoherence of National Socialist ideology], what is left as justification for the [Grossdeutsche] Reich? Not racism, not the idea of the Holy Roman Empire, and certainly not some democratic nonsense like popular sovereignty or self-determination. Only the Reich itself remains. It is its own justification. The philosophical roots of the argument are to be found in the existential philosophy of Heidegger. Transferred to the realm of politics, exisentialism argues that power and might are true: power is a sufficient theoretical basis for more power.
[Excerpts from The Seduction of Unreason: The Intellectual Romance with Fascism from Nietzsche to Postmodernism (2004).]
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Théorie politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : carl schmitt, révolution conservatrice, allemagne, weimar, années 20, années 30, années 40, philosophie, théorie politique, politologie, sciences politiques | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
Keith Preston: Understanding Carl Schmitt
Keith Preston: Understanding Carl Schmitt
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice, Théorie politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : carl schmit, philosophie, révolution conservatrice, allemagne, weimar, années 20, années 30, années 40, théorie politique, politologie, sciences politiques | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mardi, 02 août 2011
Arnolt Bronnen: Entre o Communismo e o Nacional-Socialismo
Arnolt Bronnen: Entre o Comunismo e o Nacional-Socialismo
por Werner Olles
Ex: http://legio-victrix.blogspot.com/
Arnolt Bronnen nasceu em 19 de agosto de 1895 em Viena. Desde muito jovem decidiu mudar seu nome verdadeiro (Arnold Bronner) pelo que anos mais tarde conhecerá a celebridade no mundo das letras. Esta tendência a maquiar a realidade acompanhar-lhe-á ao longo de sua existência. Assim é como converteu-se de judeu vienense em ário-germânico; de cidadão alemão em cidadão austríaco, para voltar à cidadania alemã; de comunista a nacional-revolucionário, mais tarde nacional-socialista, para regressar anos mais tarde ao comunismo.
Após a Grande Guerra, na qual participou como Kaiserjäger (Caçador Imperial) no front do Tirol, onde foi ferido gravemente no pescoço, iniciou sua carreira literária em 1922 com a publicação de uma obra teatral entitulada Vatermord (Parricida), que havia começado a escrever sendo prisioneiro dos italianos. Naquela época Bronnen pertencia a um grupo de dramaturgos, escritores e atores vanguardistas comprometidos com o expressionismo e vinculados a Bertold Brecht, com quem mantinha estreitos laços de amizade. Brecht havia encarregado-se da montagem de dita obra porém, desgraçadamente, abandonou esta iniciativa depois de haver escrito inclusive os arranjos para a encenação.
Após sua estréia em Frankfurt, representou-se em Berlim pela primeira vez em 14 de maio de 1922, a cargo da companhia "Deutscher Theater", convertendo-se em um autêntico escândalo. Sua segunda obra, Anarchie in Sillian (Anarquia em Sillian), levou à maioria dos críticos a considerar que o dramaturgo do futuro não era Brecht, senão Bronnen.
Em 1924 estreou-se sua obra Katalaunische Schlacht (A batalha dos Campos Catalaúnicos) no Grande Teatro de Frankfurt. Um ano mais tarde, Bronnen escreveu Die Rheinischen Rebellen (Os rebeldes renanos), obra que suscitou profundas polêmicas entre a crítica: o autor, conhecido até esse momento com um simpatizante das correntes marxistas, havia passado ao campo do nacionalismo. Bronnen, porém, todavia não havia dado esse passo.
Mais tarde escreveu Ostpolzug (Campanha ao Polo Leste), drama no qual explorava a personalidade de Alexandre o Grande. Em 1925 estreou Exzesse (Excesso) obra com a qual, uma vez mais, provocou um grande alvoroço como consequência de suas cenas e diálogos eróticos Um ano mais tarde estreou Reparationen (Reparações), obra dedicada à resistência nacional contra a ocupação francesa da Renânia e contra o pagamento de reparações de guerra.
Do marxismo ao nacionalismo-revolucionário
Em 1929, Bronnen publicou um romance sobra a Alta Silésia entitulado O.S., onde recria a luta dos Freikorps contra os insurgentes polacos antes de iniciar-se a Primeira Guerra Mundial e do significativo e sangrento assalto dos voluntários alemães contra Annaberg. Tucholsky repreende-o por ter feito um "biscate insensato" e de propagar "mentiras próprias de fascistas de salão". Pelo contrário, Joseph Goebbels, escreveu: "O.S. de Bronnen é o livro que todos gostaríamos de ter escrito." Ernst Jünger considerou este romance como "um primeiro sinal, que indica que nos ambientes de Bronnen, cabe a responsabilidade". Em Der Tag e no Münchener Neueste Nachrichten podia ler-se: "É algo mais que um romance, é uma profissão de fé política de altos voos", enquanto que Alfred Rosenberg, no Völkischer Beobachter chama a atenção sobre Bronnen, porém isso sim, sem deixar de considerá-lo um "bon vivant" e um autor "perigoso".
Politicamente, Bronnen já havia convertido-se em um nacional-revolucionário, próximo ao grupo de intelectuais que expressavam-se em revistas como Die Standarte, Deutsches Volkstum, Arminius, Deutsche Front, Das Dritte Reich, Gewissen, Die Kommanden, Nationalsozialistische Briefe, Der Vormarsch, Der Wehrwolf e Widerstand, as quais pertenciam os irmãos Ernst e Friedrich-Georg Jünger, Friedrich Hielscher, Franz Schauwecker, Ernst von Salomon, Herbert Blank, Otto Strasser, Ernst Niekisch e A.Paul Weber. Como antigo intelectual da esquerda marxista, partidário de uma sorte de socialismo popular e combativo, Bronnen sentiu-se atraído por tais círculos.
No plano profissional, Bronnen começou sua carreira na UFA e na Reichsrundfunkgesellschaft (Sociedade Radiofônica do Reich), ao tempo que rompe os laços que ainda o uniam com os extremistas de esquerda. Após um congresso sob o título "Literatura e Rádio", produz-se uma azeda polêmica com seus colegas, os escritores Alfred Döblin, Walter von Molo, Börries von Münchhausen, Alfons Paquet, Ludwig Fulda, Herbert Euleberg e Arnold Zweig, na medida em que ele era partidário de pôr a rádio "a serviço do povo", "não estava ali para servir aos literatos, senão ao povo", e, em qualquer caso, não devia converter-se em "uma instituição beneficente para escritores aposentados". Para Bronnen, o escritor é tão somente "o instrumento da expressão das idéias da nação".
Em janeiro de 1930 organiza um debate que, com os anos, converter-se-á em emblemático frente aos microfones da Radio Berlim, com Kurt Hiller, dirigende do Grupo de Pacifistas Revolucionários, e Franz Schauwecker, conhecido escritor nacional-revolucionário. Bronnen escreve uma biografia de Von Rossbach, chefe dos Freikorps, e pouco depois, conhece Goebbels, com cuja personalidade fica fascinado. Bronnen converte-se desta maneira no provocador número um da Alemanha. Quando Thomas Mann sustenta em um ato público que a burguesia alemã defende, lado a lado com os social-democratas, as instituições da República de Weimar, Bronnen abandona a sala flanqueado por vinte SA pedindo a dissolução da reunião. Por ocasião da estréia do filme Nada de novo no front, baseada no romance do mesmo nome de Erich Maria Remarque, Bronnen, com sua mulher Olga, uma amiga de Goebbels - que dar-lhe-á uma filha em 1938, Bárbara, que, anos mais tarde, como seu pai, converter-se-á em escritora - e vários camaradas, provocarão um grande alvoroço soltando ratos brancos na sala. Goebbels conhecia a ascendência judia de Bronnen, razão pela qual o responsável da propaganda nazi dar-lhe-á seu apoio diante das denúncias de alguns colegaso que desprezavam-no e de não poucos artigos publicados na imprensa.
A partir da tomada de poder pelos nacional-socialistas em 1933, Bronnen conheceu algumas dificuldades como consequência de sua origem racial. Em um princípio, disse ser filho natural, depois fez-se um estudo antropométrico do crânio para provar seu caráter "ariano". Não participava das idéias de resistência antinazi de alguns de seus antigos amigos nacional-revolucionários e nacional-bolcheviques. Antes de 1933, por exemplo, Bronnen havia protegido Ernst Niekisch contra as injúrias lançadas por Goebbels, porém quando os nazis subiram ao poder Bronnen cuidou-se muito de dar a conhecer sua posição contra o anti-hitlerismo de Niekisch.
Stalingrad: a estrela de Bronnen apaga-se
Bronnen teve muito poder através daso ndas da Radio Berlim. Depurou os profissionais de esquerda, liberais e judeus. Escreveu um romance sobre o ambiente radiofônico, Der Kampf in Äther (Combate pelas ondas), que Alfred Rosenberg chegou inclusive a censurar, por entender que criticava subliminalmente a política cultural nacional-socialista. Meses mais tarde, Bronnen converter-se-á em um pioneiro da televisão, à cabeça de uma pequena equipe que filma os Jogos Olímpicos de Berlim de 1936.
A estrela de Bronnen, não obstante, começa a apagar-se após a tragédia de Stalingrad. Alfred Rosenberg, inimigo das vanguardas nas artes e na literatura, a quem nunca havia gostado o dandy Bronnen e a quem, definitivamente, considerava um produto da boêmia literária, começa a maquinar. Em uma conversação entre Hitler e aquele, Rosenberg ataca aos literatos "bolcheviques culturais" entocados na retaguarda, enquanto que os jovens soldados alemães regavam com seu sangue o front russo ou congelavam no inverno das estepes. Rosenberg cita dois nomes: Erich Kästner e Arnolt Bronnen. Depois de um processo de intenções e da proibição de toda atividade literária, Bronnen é expulso da Câmara de Escritores do Reich. Quando Bronnen pede explicações por esta sanção, é-lhe respondido que é como consequência de suas antigas atividades e "escandalosas" atividades vanguardistas. Meses mais tarde, por conta de escutas por parte da Gestapo, Bronnen é inclusive detido, como anos mais tarde explicará em sua autobiografia.
Em 1944 Bronnen saiu da Alemanha e instalou-se em Goisern im Salzkammergut, onde reúne-se com um grupo da resistência antinazi, não sem antes vestir o uniforme da Wehrmacht, chegando à Áustra em 8 de maio de 1945. Até 1959, trabalhou como jornalista do diário Neue Zeit de Linz.
Na República Democrática Alemã
A princípios da década de 50 Bronnen traslada-se a Berlim Oriental. Afilia-se ao SED social-comunista e escreve sua autobiografia em 1954, Arnolt Bronnen gibt zu Protokoll, que embelezará a seu gosto. Mais tarde aparecem Deutschland Kein Wintermärchen (Alemanha, não és um pequeno conto de inverno), em 1956, e Tage mit Bert Brecht (Dias junto a Bert Brecht), em 1959. Em 1957, reeditou um de seus velhos livros, o romance Film und Leben der Barbara La Marr (Filme e vida de Bárbara La Marr). A imprensa da República Democrática ataca-o duramente acusando-o de "antissemitismo e pornografia". Fala-se inclusive de "atitude fundamentalmente anti-humana de sua consciência", faz-se alusão a "seus vícios desagradáveis de juventude", de seu "estilo amaneirado", e suas "posturas cínicas e insolentes" nos "baixos estádios da pirâmide literária da época". A nova edição de dito romance foi proibida, o que supôs o imprevisto final da carreira como dramaturgo de Bronnen. Brecht interveio apelando à bondade intrínseca de Bronnen e em memória de sua velha amizade. Brecht oferece a Bronnen a possibilidade de converter-se em crítico teatral, o que permite ao inconformista visceral escapar do muro de silêncio que a exclusão definitiva do mundo cultural representa. Bronnen, não obstante, já não poderá jogar papel político nenhum na República Democrática comunista.
Em 12 de outubro de 1959, Bronnen morreu à idade de 64 anos em Berlim. Durante toda sua vida foi um personagem controvertido: de dramaturgo esquerdista a romancista nacional-revolucionário e nacional-socialista. Arnolt Bronnen encarnou essa mistura de inconformismo, oportunismo e dandismo. Jamais foi um renegado, senão um eterno convertido, responsabilidade, sem dúvida alguma, de sua vocação e seu secreto talento.
00:08 Publié dans Histoire, Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : allemagne, weimar, communisme, national-socialisme, années 30, années 40 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 31 juillet 2011
The NewDark Age: The Frankfurt School and "Political Correctness"
The New Dark Age: The Frankfurt School and 'Political Correctness'
Michael Minnicino
Ex: http://www.wermodandwermod.com/
The people of North America and Western Europe now accept a level of ugliness in their daily lives which is almost without precedent in the history of Western civilization. Most of us have become so inured, that the death of millions from starvation and disease draws from us no more than a sigh, or a murmur of protest. Our own city streets, home to legions of the homeless, are ruled by Dope, Inc., the largest industry in the world, and on those streets Americans now murder each other at a rate not seen since the Dark Ages.
At the same time, a thousand smaller horrors are so commonplace as to go unnoticed. Our children spend as much time sitting in front of television sets as they do in school, watching with glee, scenes of torture and death which might have shocked an audience in the Roman Coliseum. Music is everywhere, almost unavoidable—but it does not uplift, nor even tranquilize—it claws at the ears, sometimes spitting out an obscenity. Our plastic arts are ugly, our architecture is ugly, our clothes are ugly. There have certainly been periods in history where mankind has lived through similar kinds of brutishness, but our time is crucially different. Our post-World War II era is the first in history in which these horrors are completely avoidable. Our time is the first to have the technology and resources to feed, house, educate, and humanely employ every person on earth, no matter what the growth of population. Yet, when shown the ideas and proven technologies that can solve the most horrendous problems, most people retreat into implacable passivity. We have become not only ugly, but impotent.
Nonetheless, there is no reason why our current moral-cultural situation had to lawfully or naturally turn out as it has; and there is no reason why this tyranny of ugliness should continue one instant longer.
Consider the situation just one hundred years ago, in the early 1890's. In music, Claude Debussy was completing his Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, and Arnold Schönberg was beginning to experiment with atonalism; at the same time, Dvorak was working on his Ninth Symphony, while Brahms and Verdi still lived. Edvard Munch was showing The Scream, and Paul Gauguin his Self-Portrait with Halo, but in America, Thomas Eakins was still painting and teaching. Mechanists like Helmholtz and Mach held major university chairs of science, alongside the students of Riemann and Cantor. Pope Leo XIII's De Rerum Novarum was being promulgated, even as sections of the Socialist Second International were turning terrorist, and preparing for class war.
The optimistic belief that one could compose music like Beethoven, paint like Rembrandt, study the universe like Plato and Nicolaus of Cusa, and change world society without violence, was alive in the 1890's—admittedly, it was weak, and under siege, but it was hardly dead. Yet, within twenty short years, these Classical traditions of human civilization had been all but swept away, and the West had committed itself to a series of wars of inconceivable carnage.
What started about a hundred years ago, was what might be called a counter-Renaissance. The Renaissance of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was a religious celebration of the human soul and mankind's potential for growth. Beauty in art could not be conceived of as anything less than the expression of the most-advanced scientific principles, as demonstrated by the geometry upon which Leonardo's perspective and Brunelleschi's great Dome of Florence Cathedral are based. The finest minds of the day turned their thoughts to the heavens and the mighty waters, and mapped the solar system and the route to the New World, planning great projects to turn the course of rivers for the betterment of mankind. About a hundred years ago, it was as though a long checklist had been drawn up, with all of the wonderful achievements of the Renaissance itemized—each to be reversed. As part of this "New Age" movement, as it was then called, the concept of the human soul was undermined by the most vociferous intellectual campaign in history; art was forcibly separated from science, and science itself was made the object of deep suspicion. Art was made ugly because, it was said, life had become ugly.
The cultural shift away from the Renaissance ideas that built the modern world, was due to a kind of freemasonry of ugliness. In the beginning, it was a formal political conspiracy to popularize theories that were specifically designed to weaken the soul of Judeo-Christian civilization in such a way as to make people believe that creativity was not possible, that adherence to universal truth was evidence of authoritarianism, and that reason itself was suspect. This conspiracy was decisive in planning and developing, as means of social manipulation, the vast new sister industries of radio, television, film, recorded music, advertising, and public opinion polling. The pervasive psychological hold of the media was purposely fostered to create the passivity and pessimism which afflict our populations today. So successful was this conspiracy, that it has become embedded in our culture; it no longer needs to be a "conspiracy," for it has taken on a life of its own. Its successes are not debatable—you need only turn on the radio or television. Even the nomination of a Supreme Court Justice is deformed into an erotic soap opera, with the audience rooting from the sidelines for their favorite character.
Our universities, the cradle of our technological and intellectual future, have become overwhelmed by Comintern-style New Age "Political Correctness." With the collapse of the Soviet Union, our campuses now represent the largest concentration of Marxist dogma in the world. The irrational adolescent outbursts of the 1960's have become institutionalized into a "permanent revolution." Our professors glance over their shoulders, hoping the current mode will blow over before a student's denunciation obliterates a life's work; some audio-tape their lectures, fearing accusations of "insensitivity" by some enraged "Red Guard." Students at the University of Virginia recently petitioned successfully to drop the requirement to read Homer, Chaucer, and other DEMS ("Dead European Males") because such writings are considered ethnocentric, phallocentric, and generally inferior to the "more relevant" Third World, female, or homosexual authors.
This is not the academy of a republic; this is Hitler's Gestapo and Stalin's NKVD rooting out "deviationists," and banning books—the only thing missing is the public bonfire.
We will have to face the fact that the ugliness we see around us has been consciously fostered and organized in such a way, that a majority of the population is losing the cognitive ability to transmit to the next generation, the ideas and methods upon which our civilization was built. The loss of that ability is the primary indicator of a Dark Age. And, a new Dark Age is exactly what we are in. In such situations, the record of history is unequivocal: either we create a Renaissance—a rebirth of the fundamental principles upon which civilization originated—or, our civilization dies.
I. The Frankfurt School: Bolshevik Intelligentsia
The single, most important organizational component of this conspiracy was a Communist thinktank called the Institute for Social Research (I.S.R.), but popularly known as the Frankfurt School.
In the heady days immediately after the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia, it was widely believed that proletarian revolution would momentarily sweep out of the Urals into Europe and, ultimately, North America. It did not; the only two attempts at workers' government in the West— in Munich and Budapest—lasted only months. The Communist International (Comintern) therefore began several operations to determine why this was so. One such was headed by Georg Lukacs, a Hungarian aristocrat, son of one of the Hapsburg Empire's leading bankers. Trained in Germany and already an important literary theorist, Lukacs became a Communist during World War I, writing as he joined the party, "Who will save us from Western civilization?" Lukacs was well-suited to the Comintern task: he had been one of the Commissars of Culture during the short-lived Hungarian Soviet in Budapest in 1919; in fact, modern historians link the shortness of the Budapest experiment to Lukacs' orders mandating sex education in the schools, easy access to contraception, and the loosening of divorce laws—all of which revulsed Hungary's Roman Catholic population.
Fleeing to the Soviet Union after the counter-revolution, Lukacs was secreted into Germany in 1922, where he chaired a meeting of Communist-oriented sociologists and intellectuals. This meeting founded the Institute for Social Research. Over the next decade, the Institute worked out what was to become the Comintern's most successful psychological warfare operation against the capitalist West.
Lukacs identified that any political movement capable of bringing Bolshevism to the West would have to be, in his words, "demonic"; it would have to "possess the religious power which is capable of filling the entire soul; a power that characterized primitive Christianity." However, Lukacs suggested, such a "messianic" political movement could only succeed when the individual believes that his or her actions are determined by "not a personal destiny, but the destiny of the community" in a world "that has been abandoned by God [emphasis added-MJM]." Bolshevism worked in Russia because that nation was dominated by a peculiar gnostic form of Christianty typified by the writings of Fyodor Dostoyevsky. "The model for the new man is Alyosha Karamazov," said Lukacs, referring to the Dostoyevsky character who willingly gave over his personal identity to a holy man, and thus ceased to be "unique, pure, and therefore abstract."
This abandonment of the soul's uniqueness also solves the problem of "the diabolic forces lurking in all violence" which must be unleashed in order to create a revolution. In this context, Lukacs cited the Grand Inquisitor section of Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, noting that the Inquisitor who is interrogating Jesus, has resolved the issue of good and evil: once man has understood his alienation from God, then any act in the service of the "destiny of the community" is justified; such an act can be "neither crime nor madness.... For crime and madness are objectifications of transcendental homelessness."
According to an eyewitness, during meetings of the Hungarian Soviet leadership in 1919 to draw up lists for the firing squad, Lukacs would often quote the Grand Inquisitor: "And we who, for their happiness, have taken their sins upon ourselves, we stand before you and say, 'Judge us if you can and if you dare.' "
The Problem of Genesis
What differentiated the West from Russia, Lukacs identified, was a Judeo-Christian cultural matrix which emphasized exactly the uniqueness and sacredness of the individual which Lukacs abjured. At its core, the dominant Western ideology maintained that the individual, through the exercise of his or her reason, could discern the Divine Will in an unmediated relationship. What was worse, from Lukacs' standpoint: this reasonable relationship necessarily implied that the individual could and should change the physical universe in pursuit of the Good; that Man should have dominion over Nature, as stated in the Biblical injunction in Genesis. The problem was, that as long as the individual had the belief—or even the hope of the belief—that his or her divine spark of reason could solve the problems facing society, then that society would never reach the state of hopelessness and alienation which Lukacs recognized as the necessary prerequisite for socialist revolution.
The task of the Frankfurt School, then, was first, to undermine the Judeo-Christian legacy through an "abolition of culture" (Aufhebung der Kultur in Lukacs' German); and, second, to determine new cultural forms which would increase the alienation of the population, thus creating a "new barbarism." To this task, there gathered in and around the Frankfurt School an incredible assortment of not only Communists, but also non-party socialists, radical phenomenologists, Zionists, renegade Freudians, and at least a few members of a self-identified "cult of Astarte." The variegated membership reflected, to a certain extent, the sponsorship: although the Institute for Social Research started with Comintern support, over the next three decades its sources of funds included various German and American universities, the Rockefeller Foundation, Columbia Broadcasting System, the American Jewish Committee, several American intelligence services, the Office of the U.S. High Commissioner for Germany, the International Labour Organization, and the Hacker Institute, a posh psychiatric clinic in Beverly Hills.
Similarly, the Institute's political allegiances: although top personnel maintained what might be called a sentimental relationship to the Soviet Union (and there is evidence that some of them worked for Soviet intelligence into the 1960's), the Institute saw its goals as higher than that of Russian foreign policy. Stalin, who was horrified at the undisciplined, "cosmopolitan" operation set up by his predecessors, cut the Institute off in the late 1920's, forcing Lukacs into "self-criticism," and briefly jailing him as a German sympathizer during World War II.
Lukacs survived to briefly take up his old post as Minister of Culture during the anti-Stalinist Imre Nagy regime in Hungary. Of the other top Institute figures, the political perambulations of Herbert Marcuse are typical. He started as a Communist; became a protégé of philosopher Martin Heidegger even as the latter was joining the Nazi Party; coming to America, he worked for the World War II Office of Strategic Services (OSS), and later became the U.S. State Department's top analyst of Soviet policy during the height of the McCarthy period; in the 1960's, he turned again, to become the most important guru of the New Left; and he ended his days helping to found the environmentalist extremist Green Party in West Germany.
In all this seeming incoherence of shifting positions and contradictory funding, there is no ideological conflict. The invariant is the desire of all parties to answer Lukacs' original question: "Who will save us from Western civilization?"
Theodor Adorno and Walter Benjamin
Perhaps the most important, if least-known, of the Frankfurt School's successes was the shaping of the electronic media of radio and television into the powerful instruments of social control which they represent today. This grew out of the work originally done by two men who came to the Institute in the late 1920's, Theodor Adorno and Walter Benjamin.
After completing studies at the University of Frankfurt, Walter Benjamin planned to emigrate to Palestine in 1924 with his friend Gershom Scholem (who later became one of Israel's most famous philosophers, as well as Judaism's leading gnostic), but was prevented by a love affair with Asja Lacis, a Latvian actress and Comintern stringer. Lacis whisked him off to the Italian island of Capri, a cult center from the time of the Emperor Tiberius, then used as a Comintern training base; the heretofore apolitical Benjamin wrote Scholem from Capri, that he had found "an existential liberation and an intensive insight into the actuality of radical communism."
Lacis later took Benjamin to Moscow for further indoctrination, where he met playwright Bertolt Brecht, with whom he would begin a long collaboration; soon thereafter, while working on the first German translation of the drug-enthusiast French poet Baudelaire, Benjamin began serious experimentation with hallucinogens. In 1927, he was in Berlin as part of a group led by Adorno, studying the works of Lukacs; other members of the study group included Brecht and his composer-partner Kurt Weill; Hans Eisler, another composer who would later become a Hollywood film score composer and co-author with Adorno of the textbook Composition for the Film; the avant-garde photographer Imre Moholy-Nagy; and the conductor Otto Klemperer.
From 1928 to 1932, Adorno and Benjamin had an intensive collaboration, at the end of which they began publishing articles in the Institute's journal, the Zeitschrift fär Sozialforschung. Benjamin was kept on the margins of the Institute, largely due to Adorno, who would later appropriate much of his work. As Hitler came to power, the Institute's staff fled, but, whereas most were quickly spirited away to new deployments in the U.S. and England, there were no job offers for Benjamin, probably due to the animus of Adorno. He went to France, and, after the German invasion, fled to the Spanish border; expecting momentary arrest by the Gestapo, he despaired and died in a dingy hotel room of self-administered drug overdose.
Benjamin's work remained almost completely unknown until 1955, when Scholem and Adorno published an edition of his material in Germany. The full revival occurred in 1968, when Hannah Arendt, Heidegger's former mistress and a collaborator of the Institute in America, published a major article on Benjamin in the New Yorker magazine, followed in the same year by the first English translations of his work. Today, every university bookstore in the country boasts a full shelf devoted to translations of every scrap Benjamin wrote, plus exegesis, all with 1980's copyright dates.
Adorno was younger than Benjamin, and as aggressive as the older man was passive. Born Teodoro Wiesengrund-Adorno to a Corsican family, he was taught the piano at an early age by an aunt who lived with the family and had been the concert accompanist to the international opera star Adelina Patti. It was generally thought that Theodor would become a professional musician, and he studied with Bernard Sekles, Paul Hindemith's teacher. However, in 1918, while still a gymnasium student, Adorno met Siegfried Kracauer. Kracauer was part of a Kantian-Zionist salon which met at the house of Rabbi Nehemiah Nobel in Frankfurt; other members of the Nobel circle included philosopher Martin Buber, writer Franz Rosenzweig, and two students, Leo Lowenthal and Erich Fromm. Kracauer, Lowenthal, and Fromm would join the I.S.R. two decades later. Adorno engaged Kracauer to tutor him in the philosophy of Kant; Kracauer also introduced him to the writings of Lukacs and to Walter Benjamin, who was around the Nobel clique.
In 1924, Adorno moved to Vienna, to study with the atonalist composers Alban Berg and Arnold Schönberg, and became connected to the avant-garde and occult circle around the old Marxist Karl Kraus. Here, he not only met his future collaborator, Hans Eisler, but also came into contact with the theories of Freudian extremist Otto Gross. Gross, a long-time cocaine addict, had died in a Berlin gutter in 1920, while on his way to help the revolution in Budapest; he had developed the theory that mental health could only be achieved through the revival of the ancient cult of Astarte, which would sweep away monotheism and the "bourgeois family."
Saving Marxist Aesthetics
By 1928, Adorno and Benjamin had satisfied their intellectual wanderlust, and settled down at the I.S.R. in Germany to do some work. As subject, they chose an aspect of the problem posed by Lukacs: how to give aesthetics a firmly materialistic basis. It was a question of some importance, at the time. Official Soviet discussions of art and culture, with their wild gyrations into "socialist realism" and "proletkult," were idiotic, and only served to discredit Marxism's claim to philosophy among intellectuals. Karl Marx's own writings on the subject were sketchy and banal, at best.
In essence, Adorno and Benjamin's problem was Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, Leibniz had once again obliterated the centuries-old gnostic dualism dividing mind and body, by demonstrating that matter does not think. A creative act in art or science apprehends the truth of the physical universe, but it is not determined by that physical universe. By self-consciously concentrating the past in the present to effect the future, the creative act, properly defined, is as immortal as the soul which envisions the act. This has fatal philosophical implications for Marxism, which rests entirely on the hypothesis that mental activity is determined by the social relations excreted by mankind's production of its physical existence.
Marx sidestepped the problem of Leibniz, as did Adorno and Benjamin, although the latter did it with a lot more panache. It is wrong, said Benjamin in his first articles on the subject, to start with the reasonable, hypothesizing mind as the basis of the development of civilization; this is an unfortunate legacy of Socrates. As an alternative, Benjamin posed an Aristotelian fable in interpretation of Genesis: Assume that Eden were given to Adam as the primordial physical state. The origin of science and philosophy does not lie in the investigation and mastery of nature, but in the naming of the objects of nature; in the primordial state, to name a thing was to say all there was to say about that thing. In support of this, Benjamin cynically recalled the opening lines of the Gospel according to St. John, carefully avoiding the philosophically-broader Greek, and preferring the Vulgate (so that, in the phrase "In the beginning was the Word," the connotations of the original Greek word logos—speech, reason, ratiocination, translated as "Word"—are replaced by the narrower meaning of the Latin word verbum). After the expulsion from Eden and God's requirement that Adam eat his bread earned by the sweat of his face (Benjamin's Marxist metaphor for the development of economies), and God's further curse of Babel on Nimrod (that is, the development of nation-states with distinct languages, which Benjamin and Marx viewed as a negative process away from the "primitive communism" of Eden), humanity became "estranged" from the physical world.
Thus, Benjamin continued, objects still give off an "aura" of their primordial form, but the truth is now hopelessly elusive. In fact, speech, written language, art, creativity itself—that by which we master physicality—merely furthers the estrangement by attempting, in Marxist jargon, to incorporate objects of nature into the social relations determined by the class structure dominant at that point in history. The creative artist or scientist, therefore, is a vessel, like Ion the rhapsode as he described himself to Socrates, or like a modern "chaos theory" advocate: the creative act springs out of the hodgepodge of culture as if by magic. The more that bourgeois man tries to convey what he intends about an object, the less truthful he becomes; or, in one of Benjamin's most oft-quoted statements, "Truth is the death of intention."
This philosophical sleight-of-hand allows one to do several destructive things. By making creativity historically-specific, you rob it of both immortality and morality. One cannot hypothesize universal truth, or natural law, for truth is completely relative to historical development. By discarding the idea of truth and error, you also may throw out the "obsolete" concept of good and evil; you are, in the words of Friedrich Nietzsche, "beyond good and evil." Benjamin is able, for instance, to defend what he calls the "Satanism" of the French Symbolists and their Surrealist successors, for at the core of this Satanism "one finds the cult of evil as a political device ... to disinfect and isolate against all moralizing dilettantism" of the bourgeoisie. To condemn the Satanism of Rimbaud as evil, is as incorrect as to extol a Beethoven quartet or a Schiller poem as good; for both judgments are blind to the historical forces working unconsciously on the artist.
Thus, we are told, the late Beethoven's chord structure was striving to be atonal, but Beethoven could not bring himself consciously to break with the structured world of Congress of Vienna Europe (Adorno's thesis); similarly, Schiller really wanted to state that creativity was the liberation of the erotic, but as a true child of the Enlightenment and Immanuel Kant, he could not make the requisite renunciation of reason (Marcuse's thesis). Epistemology becomes a poor relation of public opinion, since the artist does not consciously create works in order to uplift society, but instead unconsciously transmits the ideological assumptions of the culture into which he was born. The issue is no longer what is universally true, but what can be plausibly interpreted by the self-appointed guardians of the Zeitgeist.
"The Bad New Days"
Thus, for the Frankfort School, the goal of a cultural elite in the modern, "capitalist" era must be to strip away the belief that art derives from the self-conscious emulation of God the Creator; "religious illumination," says Benjamin, must be shown to "reside in a profane illumination, a materialistic, anthropological inspiration, to which hashish, opium, or whatever else can give an introductory lesson." At the same time, new cultural forms must be found to increase the alienation of the population, in order for it to understand how truly alienated it is to live without socialism. "Do not build on the good old days, but on the bad new ones," said Benjamin.
The proper direction in painting, therefore, is that taken by the late Van Gogh, who began to paint objects in disintegration, with the equivalent of a hashish-smoker's eye that "loosens and entices things out of their familiar world." In music, "it is not suggested that one can compose better today" than Mozart or Beethoven, said Adorno, but one must compose atonally, for atonalism is sick, and "the sickness, dialectically, is at the same time the cure....The extraordinarily violent reaction protest which such music confronts in the present society ... appears nonetheless to suggest that the dialectical function of this music can already be felt ... negatively, as 'destruction.' "
The purpose of modern art, literature, and music must be to destroy the uplifting—therefore, bourgeois — potential of art, literature, and music, so that man, bereft of his connection to the divine, sees his only creative option to be political revolt. "To organize pessimism means nothing other than to expel the moral metaphor from politics and to discover in political action a sphere reserved one hundred percent for images." Thus, Benjamin collaborated with Brecht to work these theories into practical form, and their joint effort culminated in the Verfremdungseffekt ("estrangement effect"), Brecht's attempt to write his plays so as to make the audience leave the theatre demoralized and aimlessly angry.
Political Correctness
The Adorno-Benjamin analysis represents almost the entire theoretical basis of all the politically correct aesthetic trends which now plague our universities. The Poststructuralism of Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault, and Jacques Derrida, the Semiotics of Umberto Eco, the Deconstructionism of Paul DeMan, all openly cite Benjamin as the source of their work. The Italian terrorist Eco's best-selling novel, The Name of the Rose, is little more than a paean to Benjamin; DeMan, the former Nazi collaborator in Belgium who became a prestigious Yale professor, began his career translating Benjamin; Barthes' infamous 1968 statement that "[t]he author is dead," is meant as an elaboration of Benjamin's dictum on intention. Benjamin has actually been called the heir of Leibniz and of Wilhelm von Humboldt, the philologist collaborator of Schiller whose educational reforms engendered the tremendous development of Germany in the nineteenth century. Even as recently as September 1991, the Washington Post referred to Benjamin as "the finest German literary theorist of the century (and many would have left off that qualifying German)."
Readers have undoubtedly heard one or another horror story about how an African-American Studies Department has procured a ban on Othello, because it is "racist," or how a radical feminist professor lectured a Modern Language Association meeting on the witches as the "true heroines" of Macbeth. These atrocities occur because the perpetrators are able to plausibly demonstrate, in the tradition of Benjamin and Adorno, that Shakespeare's intent is irrelevant; what is important, is the racist or phallocentric "subtext" of which Shakespeare was unconscious when he wrote.
When the local Women's Studies or Third World Studies Department organizes students to abandon classics in favor of modern Black and feminist authors, the reasons given are pure Benjamin. It is not that these modern writers are better, but they are somehow more truthful because their alienated prose reflects the modern social problems of which the older authors were ignorant! Students are being taught that language itself is, as Benjamin said, merely a conglomeration of false "names" foisted upon society by its oppressors, and are warned against "logocentrism," the bourgeois over-reliance on words.
If these campus antics appear "retarded" (in the words of Adorno), that is because they are designed to be. The Frankfurt School's most important breakthrough consists in the realization that their monstrous theories could become dominant in the culture, as a result of the changes in society brought about by what Benjamin called "the age of mechanical reproduction of art."
II. The Establishment Goes Bolshevik:
"Entertainment" Replaces Art
Before the twentieth century, the distinction between art and "entertainment" was much more pronounced. One could be entertained by art, certainly, but the experience was active, not passive. On the first level, one had to make a conscious choice to go to a concert, to view a certain art exhibit, to buy a book or piece of sheet music. It was unlikely that any more than an infinitesimal fraction of the population would have the opportunity to see King Lear or hear Beethoven's Ninth Symphony more than once or twice in a lifetime. Art demanded that one bring one's full powers of concentration and knowledge of the subject to bear on each experience, or else the experience were considered wasted. These were the days when memorization of poetry and whole plays, and the gathering of friends and family for a "parlor concert," were the norm, even in rural households. These were also the days before "music appreciation"; when one studied music, as many did, they learned to play it, not appreciate it.
However, the new technologies of radio, film, and recorded music represented, to use the appropriate Marxist buzz-word, a dialectical potential. On the one hand, these technologies held out the possibility of bringing the greatest works of art to millions of people who would otherwise not have access to them. On the other, the fact that the experience was infinitely reproducible could tend to disengage the audience's mind, making the experience less sacred, thus increasing alienation. Adorno called this process, "demythologizing." This new passivity, Adorno hypothesized in a crucial article published in 1938, could fracture a musical composition into the "entertaining" parts which would be "fetishized" in the memory of the listener, and the difficult parts, which would be forgotten. Adorno continues,
The counterpart to the fetishism is a regression of listening. This does not mean a relapse of the individual listener into an earlier phase of his own development, nor a decline in the collective general level, since the millions who are reached musically for the first time by today's mass communications cannot be compared with the audiences of the past. Rather, it is the contemporary listening which has regressed, arrested at the infantile stage. Not only do the listening subjects lose, along with the freedom of choice and responsibility, the capacity for the conscious perception of music .... [t]hey fluctuate between comprehensive forgetting and sudden dives into recognition. They listen atomistically and dissociate what they hear, but precisely in this dissociation they develop certain capacities which accord less with the traditional concepts of aesthetics than with those of football or motoring. They are not childlike ... but they are childish; their primitivism is not that of the undeveloped, but that of the forcibly retarded. [emphasis aded]
This conceptual retardation and preconditioning caused by listening, suggested that programming could determine preference. The very act of putting, say, a Benny Goodman number next to a Mozart sonata on the radio, would tend to amalgamate both into entertaining "music-on-the-radio" in the mind of the listener. This meant that even new and unpalatable ideas could become popular by "re-naming" them through the universal homogenizer of the culture industry. As Benjamin puts it,
Mechanical reproduction of art changes the reaction of the masses toward art. The reactionary attitude toward a Picasso painting changes into a progressive reaction toward a Chaplin movie. The progressive reaction is characterized by the direct, intimate fusion of visual and emotional enjoyment with the orientation of the expert.... With regard to the screen, the critical and receptive attitudes of the public coincide. The decisive reason for this is that the individual reactions are predetermined by the mass audience response they are about to produce, and this is nowhere more pronounced than in the film.
At the same time, the magic power of the media could be used to re-define previous ideas. "Shakespeare, Rembrandt, Beethoven will all make films," concluded Benjamin, quoting the French film pioneer Abel Gance, "... all legends, all mythologies, all myths, all founders of religions, and the very religions themselves ... await their exposed resurrection."
Social Control: The "Radio Project"
Here, then, were some potent theories of social control. The great possibilities of this Frankfurt School media work were probably the major contributing factor in the support given the I.S.R. by the bastions of the Establishment, after the Institute transferred its operations to America in 1934.
In 1937, the Rockefeller Foundation began funding research into the social effects of new forms of mass media, particularly radio. Before World War I, radio had been a hobbyist's toy, with only 125,000 receiving sets in the entire U.S.; twenty years later, it had become the primary mode of entertainment in the country; out of 32 million American families in 1937, 27.5 million had radios — a larger percentage than had telephones, automobiles, plumbing, or electricity! Yet, almost no systematic research had been done up to this point. The Rockefeller Foundation enlisted several universities, and headquartered this network at the School of Public and International Affairs at Princeton University. Named the Office of Radio Research, it was popularly known as "the Radio Project."
The director of the Project was Paul Lazersfeld, the foster son of Austrian Marxist economist Rudolph Hilferding, and a long-time collaborator of the I.S.R. from the early 1930's. Under Lazersfeld was Frank Stanton, a recent Ph.D. in industrial psychology from Ohio State, who had just been made research director of Columbia Broadcasting System—a grand title but a lowly position. After World War II, Stanton became president of the CBS News Division, and ultimately president of CBS at the height of the TV network's power; he also became Chairman of the Board of the RAND Corporation, and a member of President Lyndon Johnson's "kitchen cabinet." Among the Project's researchers were Herta Herzog, who married Lazersfeld and became the first director of research for the Voice of America; and Hazel Gaudet, who became one of the nation's leading political pollsters. Theodor Adorno was named chief of the Project's music section.
Despite the official gloss, the activities of the Radio Project make it clear that its purpose was to test empirically the Adorno-Benjamin thesis that the net effect of the mass media could be to atomize and increase lability—what people would later call "brainwashing."
Soap Operas and the Invasion from Mars
The first studies were promising. Herta Herzog produced "On Borrowed Experiences," the first comprehensive research on soap operas. The "serial radio drama" format was first used in 1929, on the inspiration of the old, cliff-hanger "Perils of Pauline" film serial. Because these little radio plays were highly melodramatic, they became popularly identified with Italian grand opera; because they were often sponsored by soap manufacturers, they ended up with the generic name, "soap opera."
Until Herzog's work, it was thought that the immense popularity of this format was largely with women of the lowest socioeconomic status who, in the restricted circumstances of their lives, needed a helpful escape to exotic places and romantic situations. A typical article from that period by two University of Chicago psychologists, "The Radio Day-Time Serial: Symbol Analysis" published in the Genetic Psychology Monographs, solemnly emphasized the positive, claiming that the soaps "function very much like the folk tale, expressing the hopes and fears of its female audience, and on the whole contribute to the integration of their lives into the world in which they live."
Herzog found that there was, in fact, no correlation to socioeconomic status. What is more, there was surprisingly little correlation to content. The key factor — as Adorno and Benjamin's theories suggested it would be — was the form itself of the serial; women were being effectively addicted to the format, not so much to be entertained or to escape, but to "find out what happens next week." In fact, Herzog found, you could almost double the listenership of a radio play by dividing it into segments.
Modern readers will immediately recognize that this was not a lesson lost on the entertainment industry. Nowadays, the serial format has spread to children's programming and high-budget prime time shows. The most widely watched shows in the history of television, remain the "Who Killed JR?" installment of Dallas, and the final episode of M*A*S*H, both of which were premised on a "what happens next?" format. Even feature films, like the Star Wars and Back to the Future trilogies, are now produced as serials, in order to lock in a viewership for the later installments. The humble daytime soap also retains its addictive qualities in the current age: 70% of all American women over eighteen now watch at least two of these shows each day, and there is a fast-growing viewership among men and college students of both sexes.
The Radio Project's next major study was an investigation into the effects of Orson Welles' Halloween 1938 radioplay based on H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds. Six million people heard the broadcast realistically describing a Martian invasion force landing in rural New Jersey. Despite repeated and clear statements that the show was fictional, approximately 25% of the listeners thought it was real, some panicking outright. The Radio Project researchers found that a majority of the people who panicked did not think that men from Mars had invaded; they actually thought that the Germans had invaded.
It happened this way. The listeners had been psychologically pre-conditioned by radio reports from the Munich crisis earlier that year. During that crisis, CBS's man in Europe, Edward R. Murrow, hit upon the idea of breaking into regular programming to present short news bulletins. For the first time in broadcasting, news was presented not in longer analytical pieces, but in short clips—what we now call "audio bites." At the height of the crisis, these flashes got so numerous, that, in the words of Murrow's producer Fred Friendly, "news bulletins were interrupting news bulletins." As the listeners thought that the world was moving to the brink of war, CBS ratings rose dramatically. When Welles did his fictional broadcast later, after the crisis had receded, he used this news bulletin technique to give things verisimilitude: he started the broadcast by faking a standard dance-music program, which kept getting interrupted by increasingly terrifying "on the scene reports" from New Jersey. Listeners who panicked, reacted not to content, but to format; they heard "We interrupt this program for an emergency bulletin," and "invasion," and immediately concluded that Hitler had invaded. The soap opera technique, transposed to the news, had worked on a vast and unexpected scale.
Little Annie and the "Wagnerian Dream" of TV
In 1939, one of the numbers of the quarterly Journal of Applied Psychology was handed over to Adorno and the Radio Project to publish some of their findings. Their conclusion was that Americans had, over the last twenty years, become "radio-minded," and that their listening had become so fragmented that repetition of format was the key to popularity. The play list determined the "hits"—a truth well known to organized crime, both then and now—and repetition could make any form of music or any performer, even a classical music performer, a "star." As long as a familiar form or context was retained, almost any content would become acceptable. "Not only are hit songs, stars, and soap operas cyclically recurrent and rigidly invariable types," said Adorno, summarizing this material a few years later, "but the specific content of the entertainment itself is derived from them and only appears to change. The details are interchangeable."
The crowning achievement of the Radio Project was "Little Annie," officially titled the Stanton-Lazersfeld Program Analyzer. Radio Project research had shown that all previous methods of preview polling were ineffectual. Up to that point, a preview audience listened to a show or watched a film, and then was asked general questions: did you like the show? what did you think of so-and-so's performance? The Radio Project realized that this method did not take into account the test audience's atomized perception of the subject, and demanded that they make a rational analysis of what was intended to be an irrational experience. So, the Project created a device in which each test audience member was supplied with a type of rheostat on which he could register the intensity of his likes or dislikes on a moment-to-moment basis. By comparing the individual graphs produced by the device, the operators could determine, not if the audience liked the whole show — which was irrelevant—but, which situations or characters produced a positive, if momentary, feeling state.
Little Annie transformed radio, film, and ultimately television programming. CBS still maintains program analyzer facilities in Hollywood and New York; it is said that results correlate 85% to ratings. Other networks and film studios have similar operations. This kind of analysis is responsible for the uncanny feeling you get when, seeing a new film or TV show, you think you have seen it all before. You have, many times. If a program analyzer indicates that, for instance, audiences were particularly titilated by a short scene in a World War II drama showing a certain type of actor kissing a certain type of actress, then that scene format will be worked into dozens of screenplays—transposed to the Middle Ages, to outer space, etc., etc.
The Radio Project also realized that television had the potential to intensify all of the effects that they had studied. TV technology had been around for some years, and had been exhibited at the 1936 World's Fair in New York, but the only person to attempt serious utilization of the medium had been Adolf Hitler. The Nazis broadcast events from the 1936 Olympic Games "live" to communal viewing rooms around Germany; they were trying to expand on their great success in using radio to Nazify all aspects of German culture. Further plans for German TV development were sidetracked by war preparations.
Adorno understood this potential perfectly, writing in 1944:
Television aims at the synthesis of radio and film, and is held up only because the interested parties have not yet reached agreement, but its consequences will be quite enormous and promise to intensify the impoverishment of aesthetic matter so drastically, that by tomorrow the thinly veiled identity of all industrial culture products can come triumphantly out in the open, derisively fulfilling the Wagnerian dream of the Gesamtkunstwerk—the fusion of all the arts in one work.
The obvious point is this: the profoundly irrational forms of modern entertainment—the stupid and eroticized content of most TV and films, the fact that your local Classical music radio station programs Stravinsky next to Mozart—don't have to be that way. They were designed to be that way. The design was so successful, that today, no one even questions the reasons or the origins.
III. Creating "Public Opinion": The "Authoritarian Personality" Bogeyman and the OSS
The efforts of the Radio Project conspirators to manipulate the population, spawned the modern pseudoscience of public opinion polling, in order to gain greater control over the methods they were developing.
Today, public opinion polls, like the television news, have been completely integrated into our society. A "scientific survey" of what people are said to think about an issue can be produced in less than twenty-four hours. Some campaigns for high political office are completely shaped by polls; in fact, many politicians try to create issues which are themselves meaningless, but which they know will look good in the polls, purely for the purpose of enhancing their image as "popular." Important policy decisions are made, even before the actual vote of the citizenry or the legislature, by poll results. Newspapers will occasionally write pious editorials calling on people to think for themselves, even as the newspaper's business agent sends a check to the local polling organization.
The idea of "public opinion" is not new, of course. Plato spoke against it in his Republic over two millenia ago; Alexis de Tocqueville wrote at length of its influence over America in the early nineteenth century. But, nobody thought to measure public opinion before the twentieth century, and nobody before the 1930's thought to use those measurements for decision-making.
It is useful to pause and reflect on the whole concept. The belief that public opinion can be a determinant of truth is philosophically insane. It precludes the idea of the rational individual mind. Every individual mind contains the divine spark of reason, and is thus capable of scientific discovery, and understanding the discoveries of others. The individual mind is one of the few things that cannot, therefore, be "averaged." Consider: at the moment of creative discovery, it is possible, if not probable, that the scientist making the discovery is the only person to hold that opinion about nature, whereas everyone else has a different opinion, or no opinion. One can only imagine what a "scientifically-conducted survey" on Kepler's model of the solar system would have been, shortly after he published the Harmony of the World: 2% for, 48% against, 50% no opinion.
These psychoanalytic survey techniques became standard, not only for the Frankfurt School, but also throughout American social science departments, particularly after the I.S.R. arrived in the United States. The methodology was the basis of the research piece for which the Frankfurt School is most well known, the "authoritarian personality" project. In 1942, I.S.R. director Max Horkheimer made contact with the American Jewish Committee, which asked him to set up a Department of Scientific Research within its organization. The American Jewish Committee also provided a large grant to study anti-Semitism in the American population. "Our aim," wrote Horkheimer in the introduction to the study, "is not merely to describe prejudice, but to explain it in order to help in its eradication.... Eradication means reeducation scientifically planned on the basis of understanding scientifically arrived at."
The A-S Scale
Ultimately, five volumes were produced for this study over the course of the late 1940's; the most important was the last, The Authoritarian Personality, by Adorno, with the help of three Berkeley, California social psychologists.
In the 1930's Erich Fromm had devised a questionnaire to be used to analyze German workers pychoanalytically as "authoritarian," "revolutionary" or "ambivalent." The heart of Adorno's study was, once again, Fromm's psychoanalytic scale, but with the positive end changed from a "revolutionary personality," to a "democratic personality," in order to make things more palatable for a postwar audience.
Nine personality traits were tested and measured, including:
- conventionalism—rigid adherence to conventional, middle-class values
- authoritarian aggression—the tendency to be on the look-out for, to condemn, reject and punish, people who violate conventional values
- projectivity—the disposition to believethat wild and dangerous things go on in the world
- sex—exaggerated concern with sexual goings-on.
From these measurements were constructed several scales: the E Scale (ethnocentrism), the PEC Scale (poltical and economic conservatism), the A-S Scale (anti-Semitism), and the F Scale (fascism). Using Rensis Lickerts's methodology of weighting results, the authors were able to tease together an empirical definition of what Adorno called "a new anthropological type," the authoritarian personality. The legerdemain here, as in all psychoanalytic survey work, is the assumption of a Weberian "type." Once the type has been statistically determined, all behavior can be explained; if an anti-Semitic personality does not act in an anti-Semitic way, then he or she has an ulterior motive for the act, or is being discontinuous. The idea that a human mind is capable of transformation, is ignored.
The results of this very study can be interpreted in diametrically different ways. One could say that the study proved that the population of the U.S. was generally conservative, did not want to abandon a capitalist economy, believed in a strong family and that sexual promiscuity should be punished, thought that the postwar world was a dangerous place, and was still suspicious of Jews (and Blacks, Roman Catholics, Orientals, etc. — unfortunately true, but correctable in a social context of economic growth and cultural optimism). On the other hand, one could take the same results and prove that anti-Jewish pogroms and Nuremburg rallies were simmering just under the surface, waiting for a new Hitler to ignite them. Which of the two interpretations you accept is a political, not a scientific, decision. Horkheimer and Adorno firmly believed that all religions, Judaism included, were "the opiate of the masses." Their goal was not the protection of Jews from prejudice, but the creation of a definition of authoritarianism and anti-Semitism which could be exploited to force the "scientifically planned reeducation" of Americans and Europeans away from the principles of Judeo-Christian civilization, which the Frankfurt School despised. In their theoretical writings of this period, Horkheimer and Adorno pushed the thesis to its most paranoid: just as capitalism was inherently fascistic, the philosophy of Christianity itself is the source of anti-Semitism. As Horkheimer and Adorno jointly wrote in their 1947 "Elements of Anti-Semitism":
Christ, the spirit become flesh, is the deified sorcerer. Man's self-reflection in the absolute, the humanization of God by Christ, is the proton pseudos [original falsehood]. Progress beyond Judaism is coupled with the assumption that the man Jesus has become God. The reflective aspect of Christianity, the intellectualization of magic, is the root of evil.
At the same time, Horkheimer could write in a more-popularized article titled "Anti-Semitism: A Social Disease," that "at present, the only country where there does not seem to be any kind of anti-Semitism is Russia"[!].
This self-serving attempt to maximize paranoia was further aided by Hannah Arendt, who popularized the authoritarian personality research in her widely-read Origins of Totalitarianism. Arendt also added the famous rhetorical flourish about the "banality of evil" in her later Eichmann in Jerusalem: even a simple, shopkeeper-type like Eichmann can turn into a Nazi beast under the right psychological circumstances—every Gentile is suspect, psychoanalytically.
It is Arendt's extreme version of the authoritarian personality thesis which is the operant philosophy of today's Cult Awareness Network (CAN), a group which works with the U.S. Justice Department and the Anti-Defamation League of the B'nai B'rith, among others. Using standard Frankfurt School method, CAN identifies political and religious groups which are its political enemies, then re-labels them as a "cult," in order to justify operations against them.
The Public Opinion Explosion
Despite its unprovable central thesis of "psychoanalytic types," the interpretive survey methodology of the Frankfurt School became dominant in the social sciences, and essentially remains so today. In fact, the adoption of these new, supposedly scientific techniques in the 1930's brought about an explosion in public-opinion survey use, much of it funded by Madison Avenue. The major pollsters of today—A.C. Neilsen, George Gallup, Elmo Roper—started in the mid-1930's, and began using the I.S.R. methods, especially given the success of the Stanton-Lazersfeld Program Analyzer. By 1936, polling activity had become sufficiently widespread to justify a trade association, the American Academy of Public Opinion Research at Princeton, headed by Lazersfeld; at the same time, the University of Chicago created the National Opinion Research Center. In 1940, the Office of Radio Research was turned into the Bureau of Applied Social Research, a division of Columbia University, with the indefatigable Lazersfeld as director.
After World War II, Lazersfeld especially pioneered the use of surveys to psychoanalyze American voting behavior, and by the 1952 Presidential election, Madison Avenue advertising agencies were firmly in control of Dwight Eisenhower's campaign, utilizing Lazersfeld's work. Nineteen fifty-two was also the first election under the influence of television, which, as Adorno had predicted eight years earlier, had grown to incredible influence in a very short time. Batten, Barton, Durstine & Osborne — the fabled "BBD&O" ad agency—designed Ike's campaign appearances entirely for the TV cameras, and as carefully as Hitler's Nuremberg rallies; one-minute "spot" advertisements were pioneered to cater to the survey-determined needs of the voters.
This snowball has not stopped rolling since. The entire development of television and advertising in the 1950's and 1960's was pioneered by men and women who were trained in the Frankfurt School's techniques of mass alienation. Frank Stanton went directly from the Radio Project to become the single most-important leader of modern television. Stanton's chief rival in the formative period of TV was NBC's Sylvester "Pat" Weaver; after a Ph.D. in "listening behavior," Weaver worked with the Program Analyzer in the late 1930's, before becoming a Young & Rubicam vice-president, then NBC's director of programming, and ultimately the network's president. Stanton and Weaver's stories are typical.
Today, the men and women who run the networks, the ad agencies, and the polling organizations, even if they have never heard of Theodor Adorno, firmly believe in Adorno's theory that the media can, and should, turn all they touch into "football." Coverage of the 1991 Gulf War should make that clear.
The technique of mass media and advertising developed by the Frankfurt School now effectively controls American political campaigning. Campaigns are no longer based on political programs, but actually on alienation. Petty gripes and irrational fears are identified by psychoanalytic survey, to be transmogrified into "issues" to be catered to; the "Willy Horton" ads of the 1988 Presidential campaign, and the "flag-burning amendment," are but two recent examples. Issues that will determine the future of our civilization, are scrupulously reduced to photo opportunities and audio bites—like Ed Murrow's original 1930's radio reports—where the dramatic effect is maximized, and the idea content is zero.
Who Is the Enemy?
Part of the influence of the authoritarian personality hoax in our own day also derives from the fact that, incredibly, the Frankfurt School and its theories were officially accepted by the U.S. government during World War II, and these Cominternists were responsible for determining who were America's wartime, and postwar, enemies. In 1942, the Office of Strategic Services, America's hastily-constructed espionage and covert operations unit, asked former Harvard president James Baxter to form a Research and Analysis (R&A) Branch under the group's Intelligence Division. By 1944, the R&A Branch had collected such a large and prestigeous group of emigré scholars that H. Stuart Hughes, then a young Ph.D., said that working for it was "a second graduate education" at government expense. The Central European Section was headed by historian Carl Schorske; under him, in the all-important Germany/Austria Section, was Franz Neumann, as section chief, with Herbert Marcuse, Paul Baran, and Otto Kirchheimer, all I.S.R. veterans. Leo Lowenthal headed the German-language section of the Office of War Information; Sophie Marcuse, Marcuse's wife, worked at the Office of Naval Intelligence. Also at the R&A Branch were: Siegfried Kracauer, Adorno's old Kant instructor, now a film theorist; Norman O. Brown, who would become famous in the 1960's by combining Marcuse's hedonism theory with Wilhelm Reich's orgone therapy to popularize "polymorphous perversity"; Barrington Moore, Jr., later a philosophy professor who would co-author a book with Marcuse; Gregory Bateson, the husband of anthropologist Margaret Mead (who wrote for the Frankfurt School's journal), and Arthur Schlesinger, the historian who joined the Kennedy Administration. Marcuse's first assignment was to head a team to identify both those who would be tried as war criminals after the war, and also those who were potential leaders of postwar Germany. In 1944, Marcuse, Neumann, and Kirchheimer wrote the Denazification Guide, which was later issued to officers of the U.S. Armed Forces occupying Germany, to help them identify and suppress pro-Nazi behaviors. After the armistice, the R&A Branch sent representatives to work as intelligence liaisons with the various occupying powers; Marcuse was assigned the U.S. Zone, Kirchheimer the French, and Barrington Moore the Soviet. In the summer of 1945, Neumann left to become chief of research for the Nuremburg Tribunal. Marcuse remained in and around U.S. intelligence into the early 1950's, rising to the chief of the Central European Branch of the State Department's Office of Intelligence Research, an office formally charged with "planning and implementing a program of positive-intelligence research ... to meet the intelligence requirements of the Central Intelligence Agency and other authorized agencies." During his tenure as a U.S. government official, Marcuse supported the division of Germany into East and West, noting that this would prevent an alliance between the newly liberated left-wing parties and the old, conservative industrial and business layers. In 1949, he produced a 532-page report, "The Potentials of World Communism" (declassified only in 1978), which suggested that the Marshall Plan economic stabilization of Europe would limit the recruitment potential of Western Europe's Communist Parties to acceptable levels, causing a period of hostile co-existence with the Soviet Union, marked by confrontation only in faraway places like Latin America and Indochina—in all, a surprisingly accurate forecast. Marcuse left the State Department with a Rockefeller Foundation grant to work with the various Soviet Studies departments which were set up at many of America's top universities after the war, largely by R&A Branch veterans.
At the same time, Max Horkheimer was doing even greater damage. As part of the denazification of Germany suggested by the R&A Branch, U.S. High Commissioner for Germany John J. McCloy, using personal discretionary funds, brought Horkheimer back to Germany to reform the German university system. In fact, McCloy asked President Truman and Congress to pass a bill granting Horkheimer, who had become a naturalized American, dual citizenship; thus, for a brief period, Horkheimer was the only person in the world to hold both German and U.S. citizenship. In Germany, Horkheimer began the spadework for the full-blown revival of the Frankfurt School in that nation in the late 1950's, including the training of a whole new generation of anti-Western civilization scholars like Hans-Georg Gadamer and Jürgen Habermas, who would have such destructive influence in 1960's Germany. In a period of American history when some individuals were being hounded into unemployment and suicide for the faintest aroma of leftism, Frankfurt School veterans—all with superb Comintern credentials — led what can only be called charmed lives. America had, to an incredible extent, handed the determination of who were the nation's enemies, over to the nation's own worst enemies.
IV. The Aristotelian Eros: Marcuse and the CIA's Drug Counterculture
In 1989, Hans-Georg Gadamer, a protégé of Martin Heidegger and the last of the original Frankfurt School generation, was asked to provide an appreciation of his own work for the German newspaper, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. He wrote,
One has to conceive of Aristotle's ethics as a true fulfillment of the Socratic challenge, which Plato had placed at the center of his dialogues on the Socratic question of the good.... Plato described the idea of the good ... as the ultimate and highest idea, which is supposedly the highest principle of being for the universe, the state, and the human soul. Against this Aristotle opposed a decisive critique, under the famous formula, "Plato is my friend, but the truth is my friend even more." He denied that one could consider the idea of the good as a universal principle of being, which is supposed to hold in the same way for theoretical knowledge as for practical knowledge and human activity.
This statement not only succinctly states the underlying philosophy of the Frankfurt School, it also suggests an inflection point around which we can order much of the philosophical combat of the last two millenia. In the simplest terms, the Aristotelian correction of Plato sunders physics from metaphysics, relegating the Good to a mere object of speculation about which "our knowledge remains only a hypothesis," in the words of Wilhelm Dilthey, the Frankfurt School's favorite philosopher. Our knowledge of the "real world," as Dilthey, Nietzsche, and other precursors of the Frankfurt School were wont to emphasize, becomes erotic, in the broadest sense of that term, as object fixation. The universe becomes a collection of things which each operate on the basis of their own natures (that is, genetically), and through interaction between themselves (that is, mechanistically). Science becomes the deduction of the appropriate categories of these natures and interactions. Since the human mind is merely a sensorium, waiting for the Newtonian apple to jar it into deduction, humanity's relationship to the world (and vice versa) becomes an erotic attachment to objects. The comprehension of the universal—the mind's seeking to be the living image of the living God—is therefore illusory. That universal either does not exist, or it exists incomprehensibly as a deus ex machina; that is, the Divine exists as a superaddition to the physical universe — God is really Zeus, flinging thunderbolts into the world from some outside location. (Or, perhaps more appropriately: God is really Cupid, letting loose golden arrows to make objects attract, and leaden arrows to make objects repel.) The key to the entire Frankfurt School program, from originator Lukacs on, is the "liberation" of Aristotelian eros, to make individual feeling states psychologically primary. When the I.S.R. leaders arrived in the United States in the mid-1930's, they exulted that here was a place which had no adequate philosophical defenses against their brand of Kulturpessimismus [cultural pessimism]. However, although the Frankfurt School made major inroads in American intellectual life before World War II, that influence was largely confined to academia and to radio; and radio, although important, did not yet have the overwhelming influence on social life that it would acquire during the war. Furthermore, America's mobilization for the war, and the victory against fascism, sidetracked the Frankfurt School schedule; America in 1945 was almost sublimely optimistic, with a population firmly convinced that a mobilized republic, backed by science and technology, could do just about anything. The fifteen years after the war, however, saw the domination of family life by the radio and television shaped by the Frankfurt School, in a period of political erosion in which the great positive potential of America degenerated to a purely negative posture against the real and, oftentimes manipulated, threat of the Soviet Union. At the same time, hundreds of thousands of the young generation—the so-called baby boomers—were entering college and being exposed to the Frankfurt School's poison, either directly or indirectly. It is illustrative, that by 1960, sociology had become the most popular course of study in American universities. Indeed, when one looks at the first stirrings of the student rebellion at the beginning of the 1960's, like the speeches of the Berkeley Free Speech Movement or the Port Huron Statement which founded the Students for a Democratic Society, one is struck with how devoid of actual content these discussions were. There is much anxiety about being made to conform to the system—"I am a human being; do not fold, spindle, or mutilate" went an early Berkeley slogan—but it is clear that the "problems" cited derive much more from required sociology textbooks, than from the real needs of the society.
The CIA's Psychedelic Revolution
The simmering unrest on campus in 1960 might well too have passed or had a positive outcome, were it not for the traumatic decapitation of the nation through the Kennedy assassination, plus the simultaneous introduction of widespread drug use. Drugs had always been an "analytical tool" of the nineteenth century Romantics, like the French Symbolists, and were popular among the European and American Bohemian fringe well into the post-World War II period. But, in the second half of the 1950's, the CIA and allied intelligence services began extensive experimentation with the hallucinogen LSD to investigate its potential for social control. It has now been documented that millions of doses of the chemical were produced and disseminated under the aegis of the CIA's Operation MK-Ultra. LSD became the drug of choice within the agency itself, and was passed out freely to friends of the family, including a substantial number of OSS veterans. For instance, it was OSS Research and Analysis Branch veteran Gregory Bateson who "turned on" the Beat poet Allen Ginsberg to a U.S. Navy LSD experiment in Palo Alto, California. Not only Ginsberg, but novelist Ken Kesey and the original members of the Grateful Dead rock group opened the doors of perception courtesy of the Navy. The guru of the "psychedelic revolution," Timothy Leary, first heard about hallucinogens in 1957 from Life magazine (whose publisher, Henry Luce, was often given government acid, like many other opinion shapers), and began his career as a CIA contract employee; at a 1977 "reunion" of acid pioneers, Leary openly admitted, "everything I am, I owe to the foresight of the CIA." Hallucinogens have the singular effect of making the victim asocial, totally self-centered, and concerned with objects. Even the most banal objects take on the "aura" which Benjamin had talked about, and become timeless and delusionarily profound. In other words, hallucinogens instantaneously achieve a state of mind identical to that prescribed by the Frankfurt School theories. And, the popularization of these chemicals created a vast psychological lability for bringing those theories into practice. Thus, the situation at the beginning of the 1960's represented a brilliant re-entry point for the Frankfurt School, and it was fully exploited. One of the crowning ironies of the "Now Generation" of 1964 on, is that, for all its protestations of utter modernity, none of its ideas or artifacts was less than thirty years old. The political theory came completely from the Frankfurt School; Lucien Goldmann, a French radical who was a visiting professor at Columbia in 1968, was absolutely correct when he said of Herbert Marcuse in 1969 that "the student movements ... found in his works and ultimately in his works alone the theoretical formulation of their problems and aspirations [emphasis in original]." The long hair and sandals, the free love communes, the macrobiotic food, the liberated lifestyles, had been designed at the turn of the century, and thoroughly field-tested by various, Frankfurt School-connected New Age social experiments like the Ascona commune before 1920. (See box.) Even Tom Hayden's defiant "Never trust anyone over thirty," was merely a less-urbane version of Rupert Brooke's 1905, "Nobody over thirty is worth talking to." The social planners who shaped the 1960's simply relied on already-available materials.
Eros and Civilization
The founding document of the 1960's counterculture, and that which brought the Frankfurt School's "revolutionary messianism" of the 1920's into the 1960's, was Marcuse's Eros and Civilization, originally published in 1955 and funded by the Rockefeller Foundation. The document masterfully sums up the Frankfurt School ideology of Kulturpessimismus in the concept of "dimensionality." In one of the most bizarre perversions of philosophy, Marcuse claims to derive this concept from Friedrich Schiller. Schiller, whom Marcuse purposefully misidentifies as the heir of Immanuel Kant, discerned two dimensions in humanity: a sensuous instinct and an impulse toward form. Schiller advocated the harmonization of these two instincts in man in the form of a creative play instinct. For Marcuse, on the other hand, the only hope to escape the one-dimensionality of modern industrial society was to liberate the erotic side of man, the sensuous instinct, in rebellion against "technological rationality." As Marcuse would say later (1964) in his One-Dimensional Man, "A comfortable, smooth, reasonable, democratic unfreedom prevails in advanced industrial civilization, a token of technical progress." This erotic liberation he misidentifies with Schiller's "play instinct," which, rather than being erotic, is an expression of charity, the higher concept of love associated with true creativity. Marcuse's contrary theory of erotic liberation is something implicit in Sigmund Freud, but not explicitly emphasized, except for some Freudian renegades like Wilhelm Reich and, to a certain extent, Carl Jung. Every aspect of culture in the West, including reason itself, says Marcuse, acts to repress this: "The totalitarian universe of technological rationality is the latest transmutation of the idea of reason." Or: "Auschwitz continues to haunt, not the memory but the accomplishments of man—the space flights, the rockets and missiles, the pretty electronics plants...."
This erotic liberation should take the form of the "Great Refusal," a total rejection of the "capitalist" monster and all his works, including "technological" reason, and "ritual-authoritarian language." As part of the Great Refusal, mankind should develop an "aesthetic ethos," turning life into an aesthetic ritual, a "life-style" (a nonsense phrase which came into the language in the 1960's under Marcuse's influence). With Marcuse representing the point of the wedge, the 1960's were filled with obtuse intellectual justifications of contentless adolescent sexual rebellion. Eros and Civilization was reissued as an inexpensive paperback in 1961, and ran through several editions; in the preface to the 1966 edition, Marcuse added that the new slogan, "Make Love, Not War," was exactly what he was talking about: "The fight for eros is a political fight [emphasis in original]." In 1969, he noted that even the New Left's obsessive use of obscenities in its manifestoes was part of the Great Refusal, calling it "a systematic linguistic rebellion, which smashes the ideological context in which the words are employed and defined." Marcuse was aided by psychoanalyst Norman O. Brown, his OSS protege, who contributed Life Against Death in 1959, and Love's Body in 1966—calling for man to shed his reasonable, "armored" ego, and replace it with a "Dionysian body ego," that would embrace the instinctual reality of polymorphous perversity, and bring man back into "union with nature." The books of Reich, who had claimed that Nazism was caused by monogamy, were re-issued. Reich had died in an American prison, jailed for taking money on the claim that cancer could be cured by rechanneling "orgone energy." Primary education became dominated by Reich's leading follower, A.S. Neill, a Theosophical cult member of the 1930's and militant atheist, whose educational theories demanded that students be taught to rebel against teachers who are, by nature, authoritarian. Neill's book Summerhill sold 24,000 copies in 1960, rising to 100,000 in 1968, and 2 million in 1970; by 1970, it was required reading in 600 university courses, making it one of the most influential education texts of the period, and still a benchmark for recent writers on the subject. Marcuse led the way for the complete revival of the rest of the Frankfurt School theorists, re-introducing the long-forgotten Lukacs to America. Marcuse himself became the lightning rod for attacks on the counterculture, and was regularly attacked by such sources as the Soviet daily Pravda, and then-California Governor Ronald Reagan. The only critique of any merit at the time, however, was one by Pope Paul VI, who in 1969 named Marcuse (an extraordinary step, as the Vatican usually refrains from formal denunciations of living individuals), along with Freud, for their justification of "disgusting and unbridled expressions of eroticism"; and called Marcuse's theory of liberation, "the theory which opens the way for license cloaked as liberty ... an aberration of instinct." The eroticism of the counterculture meant much more than free love and a violent attack on the nuclear family. It also meant the legitimization of philosophical eros. People were trained to see themselves as objects, determined by their "natures." The importance of the individual as a person gifted with the divine spark of creativity, and capable of acting upon all human civilization, was replaced by the idea that the person is important because he or she is black, or a woman, or feels homosexual impulses. This explains the deformation of the civil rights movement into a "black power" movement, and the transformation of the legitimate issue of civil rights for women into feminism. Discussion of women's civil rights was forced into being just another "liberation cult," complete with bra-burning and other, sometimes openly Astarte-style, rituals; a review of Kate Millet's Sexual Politics (1970) and Germaine Greer's The Female Eunuch (1971), demonstrates their complete reliance on Marcuse, Fromm, Reich, and other Freudian extremists.
The Bad Trip
This popularization of life as an erotic, pessimistic ritual did not abate, but in fact deepened over the twenty years leading to today; it is the basis of the horror we see around us. The heirs of Marcuse and Adorno completely dominate the universities, teaching their own students to replace reason with "Politically Correct" ritual exercises. There are very few theoretical books on arts, letters, or language published today in the United States or Europe which do not openly acknowledge their debt to the Frankfort School.
The witchhunt on today's campuses is merely the implementation of Marcuse's concept of "repressive toleration"—"tolerance for movements from the left, but intolerance for movements from the right"—enforced by the students of the Frankfurt School, now become the professors of women's studies and Afro-American studies. The most erudite spokesman for Afro-American studies, for instance, Professor Cornell West of Princeton, publicly states that his theories are derived from Georg Lukacs. At the same time, the ugliness so carefully nurtured by the Frankfurt School pessimists, has corrupted our highest cultural endeavors. One can hardly find a performance of a Mozart opera, which has not been utterly deformed by a director who, following Benjamin and the I.S.R., wants to "liberate the erotic subtext." You cannot ask an orchestra to perform Schönberg and Beethoven on the same program, and maintain its integrity for the latter. And, when our highest culture becomes impotent, popular culture becomes openly bestial. One final image: American and European children daily watch films like Nightmare on Elm Street and Total Recall, or television shows comparable to them. A typical scene in one of these will have a figure emerge from a television set; the skin of his face will realistically peel away to reveal a hideously deformed man with razor-blade fingers, fingers which start growing to several feet in length, and—suddenly—the victim is slashed to bloody ribbons. This is not entertainment. This is the deeply paranoid hallucination of the LSD acid head. The worst of what happened in the 1960's is now daily fare. Owing to the Frankfurt School and its co-conspirators, the West is on a "bad trip" from which it is not being allowed to come down.
The principles through which Western Judeo-Christian civilization was built, are now no longer dominant in our society; they exist only as a kind of underground resistance movement. If that resistance is ultimately submerged, then the civilization will not survive—and, in our era of incurable pandemic disease and nuclear weapons, the collapse of Western civilization will very likely take the rest of the world with it to Hell.
The way out is to create a Renaissance. If that sounds grandiose, it is nonetheless what is needed. A renaissance means, to start again; to discard the evil, and inhuman, and just plain stupid, and to go back, hundreds or thousands of years, to the ideas which allow humanity to grow in freedom and goodness. Once we have identified those core beliefs, we can start to rebuild civilization.
Ultimately, a new Renaissance will rely on scientists, artists, and composers, but in the first moment, it depends on seemingly ordinary people who will defend the divine spark of reason in themselves, and tolerate no less in others. Given the successes of the Frankfurt School and its New Dark Age sponsors, these ordinary individuals, with their belief in reason and the difference between right and wrong, will be "unpopular." But, no really good idea was ever popular, in the beginning.
Source: http://tinyurl.com/lkbrg6
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Sociologie | Lien permanent | Commentaires (1) | Tags : philosophie, sociologie, école de francfort, allemagne, political correctness, manipulations médiatiques, années 20, années 30, années 40, gauchisme, contestation | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
lundi, 25 juillet 2011
Storia della cultura fascista
Storia della cultura fascista
di Luca Leonello Rimbotti
Fonte: mirorenzaglia [scheda fonte]
È appena uscito un libro eccellente sul Fascismo e la sua importanza come moderno movimento rivoluzionario: non esitiamo a considerarlo un vero e proprio manuale di base, in grado di rompere gli steccati del conformismo vetero-ideologico e di porsi come strumento di contro-cultura di qualità: su di esso può essere ricostruita pezzo a pezzo tutta la storiografia del nuovo Millennio sul Fascismo. E con esso si può finalmente buttarsi alle spalle la lunga e avvilente stagione in cui a dominare la scena erano gli intellettuali codardi e opportunisti, i gestori della menzogna storica, i grandi camaleonti allevati in gioventù dal Regime, da questo messi in pista e poi, alla prova dei fatti, rivoltatiglisi contro come un groviglio di serpi rancorose, subito asservite ai nuovi padroni del dopoguerra. L’eccezionale uscita editoriale si chiama Storia della cultura fascista (il Mulino) di Alessandra Tarquini, una giovane ricercatrice di scuola defeliciana che già conoscevamo come ottima storica di Gentile e del gentilianesimo. Di questo libro bisogna parlare alto e forte. Deve essere da tutti conosciuto, studiato, divulgato. Non foss’altro per quella compostezza ed equanimità che, a distanza di quasi settant’anni dalla fine del Fascismo, è il minimo che si possa richiedere ad uno studioso di oggi.
Fatti i conti con i vecchi rottami della faida ideologica, appartenenti a una stagione ingloriosamente trapassata, la Tarquini passa in rassegna tutte le componenti che hanno costituito l’anima del movimento e del Regime fascisti: l’uno e l’altro sono da lei giudicati essenzialmente come soggetti politici rivoluzionari portatori di modernità e di cultura innovatrice. Viene così rovesciato l’assunto propagandistico di quanti avevano per decenni irriso il Fascismo, dicendolo privo di una sua originale ideologia, di una sua peculiare cultura, di una sua spinta modernizzatrice. La studiosa – in questa che è propriamente una storia della storiografia sul Fascismo – precisa che, per la verità, negli ultimi decenni già si erano avuti i sintomi di un generale ripensamento degli storici in materia. I tempi dei Quazza, dei Bobbio, dei Santarelli, dei Tranfaglia e compagni, una volta crollato il comunismo sovietico e prontamente liquidata la sbornia marxista che aveva dettato legge soprattutto negli anni Settanta, ha lasciato campo a posizionamenti più seri. Le boutade sul Fascismo reazionario e sul Mussolini pagato dai padroni capitalisti, le pedestri generalizzazioni sugli incolti picchiatori, tutte cose che comunque rimangono a testimonianza di un’atmosfera italiana popolata da studiosi sovente di rara bassezza qualitativa, vengono sostituite con l’analisi che oggi «gli storici hanno capovolto i loro giudizi e sono passati dal negare l’esistenza della cultura fascista al ricostruire i suoi diversi e molteplici aspetti considerandoli non solo importanti, ma addirittura decisivi per capire il fascismo».
Quando, negli anni Sessanta, uscirono gli studi capitali di Mosse e De Felice, la canèa antifascista fece di tutto per spingerli ai margini. Poi, mano a mano, si aprivano spiragli, si notavano marce indietro. Poterono così aversi i libri, per dire, di Isnenghi, Turi, Zunino, che, pur non rinunciando alla polemica ideologica anche fuori posto, tuttavia dimostravano che la repubblica delle lettere si stava rendendo conto che il Fascismo era stato un fenomeno ben più complesso che non “l’orda degli Hyksos” immaginata da Croce e sulla cui traccia si era gettata la muta degli storici marxisti o di scuola azionista. Poi, soprattutto dall’estero, arrivarono in successione un Gregor, uno Sternhell, un Cannistraro, ma specialmente poi un Griffin, e su questa scia si è potuta avere in Italia la densa produzione soprattutto di Emilio Gentile, ma anche di tutta una serie di nuovi storici, che nell’insieme hanno prodotto con risultati notevoli indagini anche minute sul Fascismo come combinazione di mito e organizzazione, di totalitarismo e modernità.
Intendiamoci, il rigurgito passatista è sempre dietro l’angolo: e ogni tanto ancora escono libri che sembrano scritti, e male, quarant’anni fa, e pur sempre i vecchi Tasca o Salvatorelli continuano qua e là a far pessima scuola. Ma, in generale, le nebbie si stanno diradando e il Fascismo comincia a vedersi riconosciuti alcuni tratti fondamentali. Che, come la Tarquini ben precisa, furono essenzialmente la modernità, la centralità del popolo e la cultura. Il tutto, incardinato sul principio del primato della politica, dette vita ad una autentica rivoluzione. Anzi, come la storica puntualizza, si trattò proprio di una sorta di rivoluzione conservatrice, che se da un lato proteggeva quanto di buono vi era nel tessuto sociale tradizionale, dall’altro si presentava con un massimo di proiezione sul futuro. Ciò che la Tarquini, riferendosi ad esempio a Sternhell, ha sottolineato nel senso che il Fascismo fu un fenomeno politico «dotato di una propria ideologia rivoluzionaria non meno coerente del liberalismo e del marxismo, che aveva espresso la volontà di creare una nuova civiltà e un uomo nuovo». Fu infatti anche una rivoluzione antropologica, un tentativo di rifare l’uomo accentuandone le disposizioni alla socialità e al solidarismo, infrangendo così sia l’individualismo liberale che la massificazione collettivista marxista.
La Tarquini riassume gli ambienti che erano alla base della concezione politica fascista: i “revisionisti” (guidati da Bottai, con elementi di spicco come Pellizzi); gli “intransigenti” (con Soffici, Maccari, Ricci come punte di lancia); e i “gentiliani” (Cantimori, Spirito, Carlini, Volpicelli, Saitta fra gli altri). Tra queste posizioni si muovevano uomini ai limiti dell’una o dell’altra cerchia e talvolta si avevano passaggi non contraddittori, trasversali, come ad es. un Malaparte o un Longanesi, vicini sia a “Strapaese” che a “900″ di Bontempelli.
Grazie a questi gruppi venne assicurata la centralità del popolo nella visione del mondo fascista, il popolo come “pura forza”, cioè «un soggetto depositario di valori positivi», per il quale, come scrive la Tarquini, gli scrittori politici «si impegnavano nella società del loro tempo sostenendo la costruzione di un nuovo Stato nazionale e popolare». Qualcosa che accendeva la modernità. Le veloci pagine della studiosa ricordano che il Fascismo fu cultura, e anzi alta cultura, sin dagli inizi del Regime vero e proprio, con il “Manifesto degli intellettuali fascisti” voluto da Gentile nel 1925 e che vedeva schierati alcuni pesi massimi della cultura italiana del Novecento, fra i quali Pirandello, Volpe, Codignola, Ungaretti, Soffici, che si andavano ad affiancare ai D’Annunzio, il “primo Duce del Fascismo”, ai Marinetti, ai Cardarelli, ai Papini, etc. E siamo in attesa di qualcuno che ci dica quale altro regime si sia mai avvalso di una così potente schiera di aperti sostenitori.
Ma la Tarquini è anche originale, laddove traccia percorsi nuovi: ricordando l’influenza che il filosofo Giuseppe Rensi (in anni recenti al centro di un processo di rivalutazione, dopo un lungo oblìo) ebbe sul Fascismo e sulla sua idea di autorità; oppure sulla figura di Emilio Bodrero, storico della filosofia e docente alla Scuola di Mistica Fascista, secondo il quale, sin dal 1921, il Fascismo doveva «mobilitarsi come forza rivoluzionaria, per conquistare il potere e dare vita a un nuovo ordine politico».
La Tarquini ricorda anche l’avanguardismo giovanile, fulcro incandescente di elaborazione ideologica e di spinta rivoluzionaria il cui programma, sin dagli esordi del 1920, esprimeva un massimo di moderna socialità, dato che proponeva di «adeguare i programmi scolastici alle esigenze professionali dei ragazzi» e di «abolire il voto in condotta, di sostenere gli studenti più poveri e di rendere obbligatorio l’insegnamento dell’educazione fisica». E poi c’erano le donne. E che donne…da Ada Negri (prima donna nominata all’Accademia d’Italia, nel 1940), alla Deledda (che partecipò alla stesura del testo unico per le scuole medie), fino alla Sarfatti, regina incontrastata del modernismo fascista in politica, in letteratura e nelle arti.
E, a proposito dell’arte e della sostanza del Fascismo come «politicizzazione dell’estetica» e volontà di «socializzazione degli intellettuali» (e in campo artistico basti ricordare la passione fascista di un Sironi, di un Severini, di un Primo Conti, di un Piacentini, di un Terragni, etc.), l’autrice rammenta la presenza massiccia di artisti e letterati di primo piano nello squadrismo (Rosai, Maccari, Malaparte-Suckert, ma potremmo aggiungere lo stesso Marinetti, oppure Lorenzo Viani, Gallian, etc.), così come non manca di scrivere che l’enorme fermento ideologico e culturale messo in moto e catalizzato dal Fascismo si presentò, come avevano già indicato i vari Nolte, Mosse e Del Noce, come «un fenomeno politico figlio della modernità», così da «esprimere una forte spinta alla modernizzazione dell’economia, della società e della cultura». Il senso della missione dei giovani, il progetto di un destino comune, l’esaltante prospettiva di un popolo unito e socialmente avanzato furono il cuore dello sforzo culturale messo in campo dal Fascismo, che poté usufruire di un vero e proprio esercito di intellettuali d’alto e non di rado altissimo livello: ad un impietoso confronto, l’odierna incolta e rozza liberaldemocrazia mondiale – priva di intellettuali che superino il quarto d’ora di celebrità mediatica – ne esce distrutta.
Tante altre notizie su www.ariannaeditrice.it
00:06 Publié dans Histoire, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : fascisme, italie, livre, histoire, histoire culturelle, années 20, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 23 juillet 2011
Carl Schmitt: Total Enemy, Total State & Total War
Total Enemy, Total State, & Total War
Carl SCHMITT
Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/
Translated by Simona Draghici
Editor’s Note:
The following translation from Carl Schmitt appears online for the first time in commemoration of Schmitt’s birth on July 11, 1888. The translation originally appeared in Carl Schmitt, Four Essays, 1931–1938, ed. and trans. Simona Draghici (Washington, D.C.: Plutarch Press, 1999).
I
In a certain sense, there have been total wars at all times; a theory of the total war, however, presumably dates only from the time of Clausewitz who would talk of “abstract” and “absolute” wars.”[1] Later on, under the impact of the experiences of the last Great War, the formula of total war has acquired a specific meaning and a particular effectiveness. Since 1920, it has become the prevailing catchword. It was first brought out in sharp relief in the French literature, in book titles like La guerre totale. Afterwards, between 1926 and 1928, it found its way into the language of the proceedings of the disarmament committee at Geneva. In concepts such as “war potential” (potentiel de guerre), “moral disarmament” (désarmement moral) and “total disarmament” (désarmement total). The fascist doctrine of the “total state” came to it by way of the state; the association yielded the conceptual pair: total state, total war. In Germany, the publication of the Concept of the Political has since 1927 expanded the pair of totalities to a set of three: total enemy, total war, total state. Ernst Jünger’s book of 1930 Total Mobilization made the formula part of the general consciousness. Nonetheless, it was only Ludendorff’s 1936 booklet entitled Der Totale Krieg (The Total War) that lent it an irresistible force and caused its dissemination beyond all bounds.
The formula is omnipresent; it forces into view a truth whose horrors the general consciousness would rather shun. Such formulas, however, are always in danger of becoming widespread nationally and internationally and of being degraded to summary slogans, to mere gramophone records of the publicity mill. Hence some clarifications may be appropriate.
(a) A war may be total in the sense of summoning up one’s strength to the limit, and of the commitment of everything to the last reserves.[2] It may also be called total in the sense of the unsparing use of war means of annihilation. When the well-known English author J. F. C. Fuller writes in a recent article, entitled “The First of the League Wars, Its Lessons and Omens,” that the Italian campaign in Abyssinia was a modern total war, he only refers to the use of efficacious weapons (airplanes and gas), whereas looked at from another vantage point, Abyssinia in fact was not capable of waging a modern total war nor did Italy use its reserves to the limit, reach the highest intensity, and lead to an oil blockade or to the closing of the Suez Canal, because of the pressure exerted through the sanctions imposed by the League of Nations.
(b) A war may be total either on both sides or on one side only. It may also be deliberately limited, rationed and measured out, because of the geographical situation, the war technique in use, and also the predominant political principles of both sides. The typical 18th-century war, the so-called “cabinet war,” was essentially and deliberately a partial war. It rested on the clear segregation of the soldiers participating in the war from the non-participant inhabitants and non-combatants. Nevertheless, the Seven Years War of Frederick the Great was relatively total, on Prussia’s side, when compared with the other powers’ mobilization of forces. A situation, typical of Germany, showed itself readily in that case: the adversity of geographical conditions and the foreign coalitions compelled a German state to mobilize its forces to a higher degree than its more affluent and fortunate bigger neighbors.[3]
(c) The character of the war may change during the belligerent showdown. The will to fight may grow limp or it may intensify, as it happened in the 1914–1918 world war, when the war trend on the German side towards the mobilization of all the economic and industrial reserves soon forced the English side to introduce general conscription.
(d) Finally, some other methods of confrontation and trial of strength, which are not total, always develop within the totality of war. Thus for a time, everyone seeks to avoid a total war which naturally carries a total risk. In this way, after the world war, there were the so-called military reprisals (the 1923 Corfu Conflict, Japan-China in 1932), followed by the attempts at non-military, economic sanctions, according to Article 16 of the Covenant of the League of Nations (against Italy, autumn 1935), and finally, certain methods of power testing on foreign soil (Spain 1936–1937) emerged in a way that could be correctly interpreted only in close connection with the total character of modern warfare. They are intermediate and transitional forms between open war and true peace; they derive their meaning from the fact that total war looms large in the background as a possibility, and an understandable caution recommends itself in the delineation of the conflictual spaces. Likewise, it is only from this point of view that they can be grasped by the science of international law.
II
The core of the matter lies in warfare. From the nature of the total war one may grasp the character and the whole aspect of state totality; from the special character of the decisive weapons one may deduce the peculiar character and aspect of the totality of war. But it is the total enemy that gives the total war its meaning.[4]
The different services and types of warfare, land warfare, sea warfare, air warfare, they each experience the totality of war in a particular way. A corresponding world of notions and ideas piles on each of these types of warfare. The traditional notions of “levée en masse” (levy), “nation armée” (nation in arms), and “Volk in Waffen” (the people in arms) belong to land warfare.[5] Out of these notions emerged the continental doctrine of total war, essentially as a doctrine of land warfare, and that thanks mainly to Clausewitz. Sea warfare, on the other hand, has its own strategic and tactical methods and criteria; moreover, until recently, it has been first and foremost a war against the opponent’s trade and economy, whence a war against non-combatants, an economic war, which by its laws of blockade, contraband, and prizes, drew neutral trade into the hostilities, as well. Air warfare has not so far built up a similar fully-fledged and independent system of its own. There is no doctrine of air warfare yet that would correspond to the world of notions and concepts accumulated with regard to land and sea warfare. Nonetheless, as a consequence of air warfare, the overall configuration sways in the main towards a three-dimensional total war.
The “if” of a total war is beyond any doubt today. The “how” may vary. The totality is perceptible from opposite vantage points. Hence the standard type of guide and leader in a total war is necessarily different. It would be too simple an equation to accept that the soldier will step into the centre of this totality as the prevailing type in a total war to the same extent as in other kinds of wars previously.[6] If, as it has been said, total mobilization abolishes the separation of the soldier from the civilian, it may very well happen that the soldier changes into a civilian as the civilian changes into a soldier, or both may change into something new, a third alternative. In reality, it all depends on the general character of the war. A real war of religion turns the soldiers into the tools of priests or preachers. A total war that is waged on behalf of the economy becomes the tool of economic power groups. There are other forms in which the soldier himself is the typical model and the ascending expression of the character of the people. Geographical conditions, racial and social peculiarities of all kinds, are factors that determine the type of warfare waged by great nations. Even today it is unlikely that a nation could engage in all the three kinds of warfare to a degree equal to the three-dimensional total war. It is probable that the centre of gravity in the deployment of forces will always rest with one or the other of the three kinds of warfare and the doctrine of total war will draw on it.[7]
Until now the history of the European peoples has been dominated by the contrast of the English sea warfare with the Continental land warfare. It is not a matter of “traders and heroes” or that sort of thing, but rather the recognition that any of the various kinds of warfare may become total, and out of its own characteristics generate a special world of notions and ideals as its own doctrine and also relevant to international and constitutional law, particularly in the assessment of the soldier’s worth and of his position in the general body of the people. It would be a mistake to regard the English sea warfare of the last three centuries in the light of the total land warfare of Clausewitz’s theory, essentially as mere trade and economic but not total warfare, and to misinterpret it as unconnected with and markedly different from totality. It is the English sea warfare that generated the kernel of a total world view.[8]
The English sea warfare is total in its capacity for total enmity. It knows how to mobilize religious, ideological, spiritual, and moral forces as only few of the great wars in world history have done. The English sea warfare against Spain was a world-wide combat of the Germanic and Romance peoples, between Protestantism and Catholicism, Calvinism and Jesuitism, and there are few instances of such outbursts of enmity as intense and final as Cromwell’s against the Spaniards. The English war against Napoleon likewise changed from a sea war into a “crusade.” In the war against Germany between 1914 and 1918, the world-wide English propaganda knew how to whip up enormous moral and spiritual energies in the name of civilization and humanity, of democracy and freedom, against the Prussian-German “militarism.” The English mind had also proved its ability to interpret the industrial-technical upsurge of the 19th century in the terms of the English worldview. Herbert Spencer drew an extremely effective picture of history that was disseminated all over the world, in countless works of popularization, the propagandistic force of which proved its worth in the 1914–1918 World War. It was the philosophy of mankind’s progress, presented as an evolution from feudalism to trade and industry, from the political to the economic, from soldiers to industrialists, from war to peace. It portrayed the soldier essentially as Prussian-German, eo ipso “feudal reactionary,” a “medieval” figure standing in the way of progress and peace. Moreover, out of its specificity, the English sea warfare evolved a full, self-contained system of international law. It asserted itself and its own concepts held on their own against the corresponding concepts of Continental international law throughout the 19th century. There is an Anglo-Saxon concept of enemy, which in essence rejects the differentiation between combatants and non-combatants, and an Anglo-Saxon conception of war that incorporates the so-called economic war. In short, the fundamental concepts and norms of this English international law are total as such and certainly indicative of an ideology in itself total.
Finally, the English constitutional regulations turned the subordination of the soldiers to the civilians into an ideological principle and imposed it upon the Continent during the liberal 19th century. By those standards, civilization lies in the rule of the bourgeois, civilian ideal which is essentially unsoldierly. Accordingly, the constitution is always but a civil-bourgeois system in which, as Clemenceau put it, the soldier’s only raison d’être is to defend the civilian bourgeois society, while basically he is subject to civilian command. The Prussian soldier state carried on a century-long political struggle on the home front against this bourgeois constitutional ideal. It succumbed to it in the Autumn of 1918. The history of Prussian Germany’s home politics from 1848 to 1918 was a ceaseless conflict between the army and parliament, an uninterrupted battle which the government had to fight with the parliament over the structure of the army, and the army budget necessary to make ready for an unavoidable war, that were determined not by the necessities of foreign policy but rather by compromises regarding internal policy. The dictate of Versailles, which stipulated the army’s organization and its equipment to the smallest detail, in an agreement of foreign policy, was preceded by half a century of periodical agreements of internal policy between the Prussian-German soldier state and its internal policy opponents, in which all the details of the organization and the equipment of the army had been decided by the internal policy. The conflict between bourgeois society and the Prussian soldier state led to an unnatural isolation of the War Office from the power of command and to many other separations, consistently rooted in the opposition between a bourgeois constitutional ideal imported from England either directly or through France and Belgium, on the one hand, and the older constitutional ideal of the German soldiery, on the other.[9]
Today Germany has surmounted that division and achieved a close integration of its soldier force.[10] Indeed, attempts will not fail to be made to describe it as militarism, in the manner of earlier propaganda methods, and to hold Germany guilty of the advent of total war. Such questions of guilt too belong to the totality of the ideological wrangles. Le combat spirituel est aussi brutal que la bataille d’hommes (spiritual combat is as brutal as the battles of men). Nonetheless, before nations stagger into a total war once more, one must raise the question whether a total enmity truly exists among the European nations nowadays. War and enmity belong to the history of nations. But the worst misfortune only occurs wherever the enmity is generated by the war itself, as in the 1914–1918 war, and not as it would be right and sensible, namely that an older, unswayed enmity, true and total to the Day of Judgment, should led to a total war.
Translator’s Notes
Originally published in Völkerbund und Völkerrecht, vol. 4, 1937, this essay was reproduced in Posirionen und Begriffe im Kampf mit Weimar-Gent-Versailles, 1929–1939, (Hamburg, 1940), pp. 235–239.
1. General Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831) is best known for his book Vom Kriege, never finished and published posthumously, which incidentally has been translated into English under the title On War. There are numerous versions available in print.
2. Carl Schmitt’s own political principles of “will” and “energy,” components of his qualitative concept of total state, derive from this characteristic feature of “total war”: collective determination to assume a cause considered worthwhile and unreserved commitment to its fulfillment. As a generalized rallying around and enthusiasm for a cause and a particular course of action, it is a frequent phenomenon of social psychology, yet its usually ephemeral character makes it unfit as a durable basis of any social structure. I remember the enthusiasm with which in 1982, to a man, the Argentines, for instance, rallied to the idea of going to war to free the Maldives and hurried to put it into practice, and the accompanying hatred which grew against the British. The enthusiasm cooled off quickly, but not the hatred, which lingered on. To perpetuate the enthusiasm, a plethora of other factors have to be brought in, of which, in the case of Germany at the beginning of the ’thirties, Carl Schmitt actually had not a clue.
3. The “lesson” is in keeping with the Hitlerite Frederician cult and legitimating tradition and does not claim to be historically accurate. Although a digression that seems out of place, it has a certain significance for the time it was made. In the autumn of 1936, Hitler circulated a memorandum revealing his expansionist intentions. Then in 1937, the organization of the nation to serve those intentions began, a process which coincided with the rise of the SS state. In November of the same year the German media were ordered to keep silent about the preparations for a “total war.” Bearing all that in mind, Schmitt’s short digression reads more as a warning of danger than a point of military strategy.
4 . What is interesting here is his insistence on the existential essence of the phenomenon, which is consonant with his earlier definition of the political and at the same time renders the distinction between the professional soldier and the civilian meaningless. Moreover, total enmity with its implicit elimination of the adversary excludes any prospect of a peace treaty, as the war is to go on until one of the belligerents is annihilated.
5. Das Volk in Waffen (The Nation in Arms) happens to be the title of a work on total war by Colmar von der Goltz (1843–1916), published in 1883, and which is an important stepping stone in the reflection on modern warfare that led to Ludendorff’s book.
6. At the beginning of February 1938, Adolf Hitler became commander in chief of the German armed forces, appointing General Keitel his assistant at the head of the High Command of the Armed Forces, as the War Ministry was dissolved.
7. Eventually only the Soviet Union came closest to Carl Schmitt’s expectations, while the United States waged a fully-fledged three-dimensional war, dictated by its geographical position and sustained by its vast economic and technical resources most of which remained outside the battle zone.
8. For a broader treatment of the subject-matter see Carl Schmitt’s Land und Meer, which as Land and Sea is available in an English translation (Washington, D.C.: Plutarch Press, 1997).
9. The conflict between the civil society and the military in Germany was the subject-matter of a longer essay by Carl Schmitt, published in Hamburg in 1934 under the title Staatsgefüge und Zusammenbruch des Zweites Reiches. Der Sieg des Burgers über den Soldaten (The State Structure and the Collapse of the Second Reich. The Burghers’ Victory Over the Soldiers).
10. Röhm, the ideological soldier, had been eliminated in 1934, at the same time as the political soldiers, the Generals von Schleicher and von Bredow. Furthermore, as already mentioned in note 6 above, the War Ministry ceased to exist at the beginning of 1938, while the Commander in Chief, Field Marshal Werner von Blomberg was removed from his post for having compromised himself by marrying a “lady with a past,” and his prospective successor, General von Fritsch was forced to resign on a trumped-up Charge of homosexuality. At the same time, sixteen other generals were retired and forty-four were transferred. Göring who had been very active in carrying out this “integration” got for it only the title of field marshal, as Hitler kept for himself the supreme military command.
Article printed from Counter-Currents Publishing: http://www.counter-currents.com
URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2011/07/total-enemy-total-state-and-total-war/
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Polémologie, Révolution conservatrice, Théorie politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : carl schmitt, guerre, politique, politologie, théorie politique, sciences politiques, philosophie, allemagne, révolution conservatrice, weimar, années 20, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 29 mai 2011
Remembering Isadora Duncan, Pagan Priestess of Dance
Remembering Isadora Duncan:
Pagan Priestess of Dance
By Amanda BRADLEY
Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/
“In those far-off days which we are pleased to call Pagan, every emotion had its corresponding movement. Soul, body, mind worked together in perfect harmony.”—Isadora Duncan
The life of Isadora Duncan was marked by opposition to every aspect of bourgeois modernity. Born on May 27, 1878, she was devoted to creating a form of dance, religious in nature, worthy of interpreting Greek tragedies and Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony (1). Today she often is celebrated as the creator of “modern dance”; such a description is a misnomer, at best, as her entire life was a conscious revolt against the modern world. Sometimes she turned to the world of Tradition; other times, her revolt was in the wrong direction—toward Communism, for example—but these ideological jaunts are understandable in light of her naivety and idealism.
A ‘Renaissance of Religion’ Through Dance
Isadora danced not solely as an art; she aspired to create a “dance which might be the divine expression of the human spirit through the medium of the body’s movement.” Ballet teaches that the central spring of movement is the base of the spine, from which all limbs move. But Isadora thought this produced “artificial mechanical movement not worthy of the soul,” much like an “articulated puppet” (2). After hours standing in meditation, she discovered the true central spring of movement in the solar plexus:
I . . . sought the source of the spiritual expression to flow into the channels of the body filling it with vibrating light—the centrifugal force reflecting the spirit’s vision. After many months, when I had learned to concentrate all my force to this one Centre I found that thereafter when I listened to music the rays and vibrations of the music streamed to this one fount of light within me—there they reflected themselves in Spiritual Vision not the brain’s mirror, but the soul’s, and from this vision I could express them in Dance. (3)
Isadora had trouble explaining this to adults, even artists, but even the youngest child could understand how to listen to music with the soul. She taught her students to let the inner self awaken within them, and from then on, “even in walking and in all their movements, they possess a spiritual power and grace which do not exist in any movement born from the physical frame, or created from the brain” (4). Her dance was as focused on inward movement as outward. Such children were able to captivate audiences that even great artists could not.
Raised in America, Isadora moved to Europe as a young adult “to bring about a great renaissance of religion through the Dance” (5). Though inspired by the Greeks’ religiosity, she called her style the “Dance of the Future.” Art that is not religious is not art, she said, but mere merchandise.
Isadora’s interest in paganism coalesced when she, her siblings, and mother moved to Greece in 1903. They started wearing Greek tunics and sandals, a tradition Isadora continued for the rest of her life. She briefly had dresses made by Paul Poiret, but later described it as a fall from a sacred to a profane art. She said that a flower in the hands of a woman was more beautiful than if she held all the world’s diamonds and pearls.
The family bought a piece of land with a view of the Acropolis and started to build a temple based on the Palace of Agamemnon. They planned to rise at dawn and greet the sun with song and dance; spend the mornings teaching the local villagers song and dance and converting them to Greek paganism; meditate in the afternoons; hold pagan celebrations in the evenings; and be vegetarians. They soon realized the impossibility of building such a grand house and of finding water on their land. Instead, they held competitions for the most authentic Greek songs and formed a chorus of boys to create an original Greek chorus (6). They determined to make a pilgrimage after reading the Eleusinian Mysteries and, to propitiate the gods, danced rather than walked the 13-and-a-half-mile trip to Eleusina.
But the same thing happened in Greece that Isadora experienced her entire life: She ran out of money and abandoned her vision. Fiscal responsibility was unknown to this family of artists; large sums were made from successful tours or generous donors, but quickly spent in extravagance, and the subsequent poverty derailed many plans. Isadora’s success also was interwoven with harsh critiques of her work. The Berlin Morgen Post, for example, ran a Q&A with dance masters titled “Can Miss Duncan Dance?” Isadora’s letter in reply posed the question of whether a dancing maenad whose sculpture was in the Berlin Museum could dance, never having danced en pointe (7).
Isadora’s life was marked by a variety of ventures, which often ended if she had to compromise her art. One started when Cosima Wagner called on Isadora to discuss her late husband’s distaste for ballet and his “dream for the Bacchanal and the Flower Maidens.” And so Isadora went enthusiastically to Bayreuth to create a dance for the Bacchanal in Tannhäuser in 1904. Isadora insisted on dancing in a transparent tunic, despite Cosima’s pleadings. She maintained that women’s bodies were beautiful, and that even in her risqué tunics, her costumes were less vulgar than those of chorus girls. She said she would rather dance nude than walk down the streets in “half-clothed suggestiveness” like American women. One day she couldn’t resist sharing her revelation that “Musik-Drama kann nie sein,” and her tenure at Bayreuth ended when she said the Wagner’s errors were as great as his genius.
Isadora’s first school of dance was started in Grunewald, Germany, and held up the young girls of ancient Sparta as “the future ideal.” She maintained her spiritual vision when founding her second school, in Paris, housed in a temple of dance called the Dionysion. Her vision for the school was inspired by the “Seminary of Dancing Priests of Rome” (the Salii), who “danced before the people for the purification of those who beheld them. . . . with such happy ardour and purity, that their dance influenced and elevated their audience as medicine for sick souls” (8). She planned to build a theatre in which her students would dance the chorus to Greek tragedies:
I pictured a day when the children would wend their way down the hill like Pan Athene, would embark on the river and, landing at the Invalides, continue their sacred Procession to the Panthéon and there celebrate the memory of some great statesman or hero. (9)
Her school was intended to be the start of a global crusade: Her young adepts would inspire others and eventually change the world. She said once that when rich, she would rebuild the Temple of Paestum and found a college of priestesses of the dance.
Isadora had two children, a girl by theatre designer Gordon Craig and a boy by Paris Singer, heir to the sewing machine fortune. Like all women, Isadora was more a mother at heart than an artist, and anything else she could do in life paled next to the joy of her children. In describing her daughter’s birth, she said, “Oh, women, what is the good of us learning to become lawyers, painters or sculptors, when this miracle exists? Now I know this tremendous love, surpassing the love of man . . . What did I care for Art! I felt I was a God, superior to any artist” (10). Though her art was often at odds with her romantic relationships and society, her children became her best students. Both were killed in an automobile accident, drowning in the Seine in 1913. Her longing for another child was so immense that she begged a stranger, the sculptor Romano Romanelli, to impregnate her. She gave birth with the drums of World War I pounding outside. The baby died shortly after childbirth and her school was turned into a hospital.
During the war, Isadora moved her school to New York, at the peak of the jazz age. There she found that men and women of the best society spent their time “dancing the fox trot to the barbarous yaps and cries of the Negro orchestra” (11). She became completely disillusioned with the spirit of her home country, stating that the jazz rhythm expresses “the primitive savage” and referring to the “tottering, ape-like convulsions of the Charleston [5].” She wanted a dance for America, one springing from Walt Whitman and that had “nothing in it of the inane coquetry of the ballet, or the sensual convulsion of the Negro.” She did not like Henry Ford’s suggestion that the young people dance the waltz or minuet, as the minuet was servile and the waltz an expression of “sickly sentimentality” (12).
Although she has been called a racist and xenophobe, and the book Hitler’s Dancers refers to her national feminism as excluding all people of color and who don’t match the eugenic claims of the nation, Isadora’s racial tendencies were not at the heart of her philosophy of dance. She said she believed that all people were her brothers and sisters, and in the great love for humanity shared by Christ and the Buddha.
Her sister Elizabeth, however, took a different path when she took over the school founded in Germany. Elizabeth’s husband was a “fanatical” Nazi who spoke out against Jewish influence in modern dance productions, and “racial hygiene” was part of the curriculum. Isadora’s Greek paganism was combined with Germanic myth and Nordic rites to turn the female dance into “creative prayer” (13). The prologue to Leni Riefenstahl’s Fest der Völker (Festival of Nations) has been called a fulfillment of Isadora’s “vision of a dance of Beauty and Strength” (14). (Riefenstahl was herself a dancer in a style similar to that of Isadora prior to a knee injury.)
After her disillusionment with America, Isadora became equally disgusted with bourgeois Europe and believed that through communism, Plato’s ideal state might be created on earth. She went to Moscow after the Russian Revolution when invited by the government to found a school there in 1921. She said the American rich were not remnants of any true aristocracy (of which she spoke positively); they had no appreciation for true art but only “money, money, money.” Russia held promise that all children would be able to experience the dance and opera.
When she returned to America for a tour, Isadora was labeled a “Bolshevik hussy” and deprived of her American citizenship. Shortly before she left the country for the final time, she published an article in Hearst’s American Weekly that criticized the U.S. for its Puritanism, commercialism, and marriage laws. She had her own brand of feminist eugenics: When the communist State provided for children, mothers would be free to experiment with the best fathers for fit children in the same way botanists experiment with the best fertilizers for fit seed (15).
After several years in Moscow, she found the regime did not allow for full expression of her art and most of the money for her school was withdrawn. The remainder of her life was spent with tours, a short marriage to the poet Sergei Yesenin that was marked by widely publicized domestic rows, romantic relationships, and financial difficulties. She died on September 14, 1927, at the age of 50, when her long scarf got tangled in a rear wheel and axel of an Amilcar, either strangling her or throwing her from the vehicle.
The Far Right is filled with converts from the Far Left. Had Isadora lived longer, it’s easy to imagine her finding a philosophical home with her sister Elizabeth and her husband, in the pagan strains of National Socialism, especially in its glorification of the peasant classes and motherhood (though her dance may have been labeled degenerate). Had she lived but a year longer, she may have been inspired by the anti-Christian, pagan revolution described in Julius Evola’s Pagan Imperialism. Or, despite her friend Eleanora Duse’s dramatic break-up with Gabriele d’Annunzio, she may have taken her Dance of the Future to Fascist Italy.
Upbringing, Education, and Feminism for Future Mothers
Isadora was successful in teaching her style of dance to young children, enabling them to connect with their inner selves and develop a natural grace. When they grew older, however, “the counteracting influences of our materialistic civilization took this force from them—and they lost their inspiration” (16). Isadora felt that she was able to withstand the materialistic forces of the modern world because of her unusual upbringing.
Isadora was the youngest and most willful of four artistic children. Her mother was an accomplished pianist and devout Catholic, who divorced when Isadora was young and promptly became an atheist. Her father made and lost several fortunes over his lifetime and was largely absent from their life.
The Duncan children had a highly unconventional upbringing in San Francisco. They were free to wonder about town, had no strict bedtimes, and were never disciplined. They moved frequently since they often were unable to pay rent, but their poverty made their life an experiment in asceticism. “My mother cared nothing for material things and she taught us a fine scorn and contempt for all such possessions as houses, furniture, belongings of all kinds,” wrote Isadora. “It was owing to her that I never wore a jewel in my life. She taught us that such things were trammels” (17). Isadora bargained for free food and extended credit at the butcher’s and baker’s, and peddled her mother’s knitting door-to-door. She was always grateful for their poverty and credited her hardships with a Nietzschean master-creating power:
When I hear fathers of families saying they are working to leave a lot of money for their children, I wonder if they realize that by so doing they are taking all the spirit of adventure from the lives of those children. For every dollar they leave them makes them so much the weaker. The finest inheritance you can give to a child is to allow it to makes its own way, completely on its own feet. . . . I did not envy these rich children; on the contrary, I pitied them. I was amazed at the smallness and stupidity of their lives. (18)
Isadora’s young life alternated between joy and terror. Her mother often was red-eyed from tears, only knowing how to suffer and weep as a Christian, an attitude that her daughter found appalling. Before ever reading him, Isadora said she instinctively embraced Nietzschean philosophy.
Isadora started her first school of dance at age six. Her classes became so large, and she was making much-needed money, that she dropped out of school at age 10. Already she was developing her own system of dance, often inspired by poetry. It was at this young age, after being sent to a famous ballet teacher for lessons, that she developed the view that the dance formed in the Italian Renaissance was “ugly and against nature.”
Her education did not stop with her exit from school. She and her siblings had enchanted evenings, when their mother played Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert, Mozart, and Chopin and read them Shakespeare, Shelley, Keats, Browning, and Burns. At one point the children opened a theater and took their troupe on a small tour on the California coast. Isadora started a newspaper and embarked on a program of self-study at the public library in Oakland.
Isadora’s opposition to marriage sprung from her parents’ divorce and was cemented after reading George Eliot’s Adam Bede, about an unmarried pregnant girl who exposes her baby rather than endure humiliation and ostracism in her village. “I decided, then and there, that I would live to fight against marriage and for the emancipation of women and for the right for every woman to have a child or children as it pleased her, and to uphold her right and her virtue,” she recalled (19). Her opposition to marriage was always due to two factors: an opposition to divorce (especially when a woman’s children could be taken from her), and a desire for women to have more freedom to bear children. When women told her that marriage was needed to secure the father’s support of children, Isadora responded that she did not think men so lowly.
Isadora’s romantic encounters also led her to discount the viability of marriage for artists. Time after time she fell in love, only to have the man ask her to renounce her art in order to support his. When her first lover, a Shakespearean actor, took her to look at apartments she felt “a strange chill and heaviness” and asked what their married life would be like. “Why, you will have box each night to see me act, and then you will learn to give me all my répliques and help me in my studies” (20). This first heartbreak led to her being placed briefly in a clinic and her subsequent notions that only one spiritual path was possible:
I believe that in each life there is a spiritual line, an upward curve, and all that adheres to and strengthens this line is our real life—the rest is but as chaff falling from us as our souls progress. Such a spiritual line is my Art. My life has know but two motives—Love and Art—and often Love destroyed Art, and often the imperious call of Art put a tragic end to Love. For these two have no accord, but only constant battle. (21)
Isadora is considered modern for her bisexuality; she had one confirmed relationship with a woman. She considered Plato’s Phaedrus the most exquisite love song ever written, and, like the ancient Greeks, believed “the highest love is a purely spiritual flame which is not necessarily dependent on sex” (22). No doubt she would have appreciated J. J. Bachofen’s elucidation on the differences between the Thracian’s sensual homosexuality versus the Lesbian women, who chose Orphism over Amazonism: “The sole purpose was to transcend the lower sensuality, to make physical beauty into a purified psychic beauty” (23).
Isadora continued her education as an adult, spending hours at the library of the Paris Opera to study the history of dance. In her early adulthood, she said the only dance masters she could have were Jean-Jacques Rousseau (for Emile), Whitman, and Nietzsche. Later she said the three great precursors of her Dance of the Future were Beethoven, Nietzsche, and Wagner: Beethoven created the Dance in mighty rhythm, Wagner in sculptural form, Nietzsche in Spirit (24).
Isadora Duncan was a soul from another age. In ancient Greece she might have been at home with Sappho, or as a priestess or hetaera. Although she always claimed to need “more freedom,” it was in part the freedoms of modernity that made her path difficult. In her tragic, yet joyful, life, she maintained a link to a religiosity that almost has vanished. Isadora was not merely a woman or artist; like her beloved Zarathustra, she lived up to the title of “dancing philosopher.”
Notes
1. Isadora’s birthday is believed to be May 27, 1878. Her baptismal certificate, discovered in 1976, records the date as May 26, 1877.
2. Isadora Duncan, My Life (New York: Liveright Publishing, 1955), p. 75.
3. My Life.
4. My Life, p. 76.
5. My Life, p. 85.
6. My Life, p. 129.
7. Isadora Speaks: Writings & Speeches of Isadora Duncan, ed. Franklin Rosemont (Chicago: Charles H. Kerr, 1994), p. 34.
8. My Life, p. 302.
9. My Life, p. 303.
10. My Life, p. 196.
11. My Life, p. 318.
12. My Life, pp. 341–42.
13. Lilian Karina and Marion Kant, Hitler’s Dancers: German Modern Dance and the Third Reich, trans. Jonathan Steinber (New York: Berghahn Books, 2004), pp. 33–34.
14. Terri J. Gordon, “Fascism and the Female Form: Performance Art in the Third Reich,” in Sexuality and German Fascism, ed. Dagmar Herzog (New York: Berghahn Books, 2004), p. 14.
15. Isadora Speaks, p. 131.
16. My Life, p. 76.
17. My Life, p. 22.
18. My Life, p. 21.
19. My Life, p. 17.
20. My Life, p. 107.
21. My Life, p. 239.
22. My Life, p. 285.
23. J. J. Bachofen, Myth, Religion, and Mother Right, trans. Ralph Manheim (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967), p. 204.
24. My Life, p. 341.
Article printed from Counter-Currents Publishing: http://www.counter-currents.com
URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2011/05/remembering-isadora-duncan-pagan-priestess-of-dance/
00:05 Publié dans art | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : isadora dunca, danse, art, avant-gardes, chorégraphie, chorégraphes, années 20, années 30, paganisme | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 28 mai 2011
Gottfried Benn
Gottfried Benn in Interview (1956)
Gottfried Benn liest aus "Kunst und Drittes Reich"
00:05 Publié dans Littérature, Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : allemagne, littérature, lettres, lettrs allemandes, littérature allemande, gottfried benn, révolution conservatrice, immigration intérieure, années 20, années 30, années 40, années 50 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
jeudi, 19 mai 2011
Rede aan het graf van Joris van Severen
Rede aan het graf van Joris Van Severen (05/03/2011)
Ex: http://www.kasper-gent.org/
Beste vrienden uit alle Nederlanden,
Vandaag staan we aan het graf van Joris Van Severen, de Leider van het Verdinaso. Zijn persoon, zijn gedachten, zijn invloed en zijn werk doen ons ook vandaag nog steeds bezinnen over de taak die wij te vervullen hebben.
Wij hebben Joris Van Severen nooit gekend. Om hem te kennen zijn wij aangewezen op overgeleverde literatuur. Wat kan Joris Van Severen nog betekenen voor de jeugd van vandaag? Welke boodschap heeft de jeugd van vandaag weten te bereiken?
Wel beste vrienden, het antwoord is niet meteen duidelijk. Ook wij leren nog dagelijks dingen bij over het Verdinaso, over Joris Van Severen en over de politiek-filosofische achtergrond van zijn denken. Hoe dan ook stellen wij vandaag een diepe malaise vast, die knaagt aan de fundamenten van ons volk en onze gemeenschap. Net zoals Joris Van Severen zien wij absoluut geen heil in partijpolitiek, centjes- of biernationalisme. Wij zien geen heil in neoliberalisme, kapitalisme, particratisme, modernisme, individualisme, collectivisme, communisme, zionisme. Vaak ondergesneeuwde Dinaso-idealen bieden ook voor de actuele situatie een gegronde uitweg, een nieuwe een radicale oplossing die ons volk nodig heeft.
Zo kan de Vlaamse Beweging kan ons geen uitweg aanbieden. Hun gezellig samenzijn onder de ijzertoren ten spijt, zouden ze beter iets nuttig doen voor ons volk en pakweg gaan boeren. Met hun eurregionalistische discours versterken ze fundamenteel de macht van de Europese superstaat, een superstaat die fundamenteel gebaseerd is op Atlantische en kankervolle idealen. Hun discours verscheurt ons volk der Nederlanden nog meer in broedertwist en schande. Ook Joris Van Severen kwam tot dezelfde conclusies. Het enige levensvatbare model is dat van de Bourgondische Nederlanden, een model waarin alle Dietsers verenigd worden in één staat, onder één kroon en met één doel: als volk LEVEN.
Vervolgens is er het liberaal-kapitalisme. Het heeft onze samenleving ontworteld. Het heeft het geld, het winstbejag en de multinationale onderneming centraal geplaatst. Het heeft ons volk tot productieapparaat der aandeelhouders gemaakt. Het heeft de economie losgetrokken van volk en staat. Het heeft het economisch overleven van ons volk afhankelijk gemaakt van een ‘race to the bottom’ inzake lonen en arbeidsvoorwaarden. Consumentisme en individualisme is de norm geworden.
Vrienden uit alle Nederlanden, economisch links en rechts propageren elkaar te bestrijden, maar in werkelijkheid bestrijden zij de mens, het volk en de maatschappij. Het is noodzakelijk dat wij streven naar een duurzame en organische economie, rekening houdende mens, volk, en capaciteit waarmee God onze Aarde geschapen heeft.
Vanuit beide invalshoeken geeft Van Severen ons een duidelijke boodschap mee. Herinneren wij ons volgende woorden: “Alles wat het liberalisme in Dietsland heeft ontbonden, zullen wij weer binden. Het volk aan zijn wezen, zijn grond en zijn staat; de ledematen van het volk aan het volksgeheel, aan het volkslichaam en aan zijn hoofd”.
Verder bouwde Joris Van Severen ook een keurelite op. Een stijlvolle, aaneen geschraagde groep van mensen die vol overgave strijden voor hetzelfde ideaal. Zelf was hij een man met een grote openheid en een uitzonderlijk samenvattend vermogen. De hoeveelheid politieke en literaire werken die hij raadpleegde, zijn eigen intellectuele arbeid en het feit dat hij de heersende consensus onverkort én onderbouwd in vraag durft stellen verdient onze allergrootste bewondering. De kritiek was groot, maar het simpele feit dat ze tot de dag van vandaag in alle hevigheid blijft aanhouden bewijst alleen maar hoe sterk, hoe volledig en hoe consequent het intellectueel werk dat Van Severen verricht heeft wel is. Een profeet wordt jammer genoeg nooit gehoord in eigen land.
Van Severen wou de morele en intellectuele volmaaktheid bereiken, zonder hierdoor beïnvloed te worden door externe en verleidelijke factoren. De walgelijke hebzucht van het amoreel kapitalisme,parasitaire partijpolitieke en parlementaire stelsels en de gewetensloze manipulatie van de onbewuste massa kregen bij Van Severen geen kans. Als jeugd dienen wij ditzelfde nobele doel voor ogen te nemen en ons niet te laten verleiden door de grote en duivelse demonen van onze tijd. Wij dienen diezelfde elite te vormen die Joris Van Severen voor ogen had. Stijlvol, ordevol, moreel, intellectueel, doelbewust.
Beste vrienden uit alle Nederlanden, moge op onze banen dan ook de hernieuwde stap van het marsbereide, nieuwe Dietsland weerklinken.
Voor Dietsland en Orde!
Uitgesproken door Thomas B., vice-Praeses KASPER 2009-2011, aan het graf van Joris Van Severen te Abbeville, 5 maart 2011.
00:10 Publié dans Hommages | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : hommage, joris van severen, flandre, pays-bas, grands pays-bas, solidarisme, national-solidarisme, années 30, deuxième guerre mondiale, seconde guerre mondiale, mai 1940 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
De Michelangelo van de 20ste eeuw
De Michelangelo van de 20ste eeuw
Ex: http://www.kasper-gent.org/
“Gott ist die Schönheit und Arno Breker sein Prophet.” (Salvador Dali)
Inleiding
Geen kunstenaar zo omstreden als Arno Breker. De Duitse beeldhouwer greep in de 20ste eeuw, op een moment dat Europa in de ban was van het modernisme, terug naar de renaissance en leverde uitzonderlijk werk af, zoals Bereitschaft en Berufung. Maar: Breker was een van Hitlers gefavoriseerde beeldhouwers – samen met onder andere Josef Thorak en Gerard Hauptmann – wat hem gedurende de naziperiode weliswaar faam opleverde (die verdiende hij trouwens); toch zou deze professionele band met Hitler voor hem na de val van nazi-Duitsland vooral het einde van zijn artistieke carrière betekenen. Breker bleef weliswaar beeldhouwen, maar vanwege zijn zwart verleden werd hij, zeker in Duitsland, doodgezwegen. Zo stelde de overheid pas in 2006 voor de eerste maal het gehele oeuvre van Breker tentoon en ook toen nog zorgde deze tentoonstelling voor heel wat opschudding in de Duitse media.
Het begin van een artistieke carrière
In 1927 – hij was toen 27 jaar – trok Breker naar Parijs waar hij contacten legde met verschillende Franse en internationale kunstenaars, zoals Charles Despiau, Aristide Maillol en Ernest Hemmingway, die hem inspireerden en stimuleerden. Breker had het geluk de kunsthandelaar Alfred Flechtheim te hebben leren kennen. Door zijn contacten met Flechtheim ontving Breker al snel vele opdrachten uit binnen- en buitenland en bouwde zo op zeer korte tijd een stevige reputatie uit. In 1932 werd aan Breker de Rom-Preis des preußischen Kultusministeriums uitgereikt wat het voor hem mogelijk maakte zelf naar Rome te trekken. Daar raakte hij enorm onder de indruk van Michelangelo en de stedenbouw, elementen die later in zijn neoclassicistische ontwerpen voor het Derde Rijk zouden terugkomen.
Op dat moment toekomstig Minister van Propaganda Joseph Goebbels, die Breker in Rome had leren kennen, drong er bij hem op aan om terug te keren naar Duitsland, omdat “er hem een grote toekomst te wachten stond”. De jonge en ambitieuze Breker aarzelde niet, zeker niet toen schilder en goede vriend Max Lieberman hem daar ook nog eens toe aanzette. In 1934 keerde Breker terug naar zijn vaderland, waar hij alle voordelen genoot van een protegé van het regime.
De Olympische Spelen van 1936
Met de Olympische Spelen van 1936 in Berlijn draaide de Duitse propagandamachine op volle toeren. Hoewel het Olympisch handvest door de nazi’s nageleefd werd, zag men de Spelen toch als een uitgelezen kans om de nationaal-socialistische ideologie uit te dragen. Voor Arno Breker betekenden de Spelen een nieuw hoogtepunt in zijn carrière. Zijn beelden Zehnkämpfer en Die Siegerin, beide beelden meer dan drie meter hoog, behaalden een zilveren medaille. De jury had hem de gouden medaille willen geven, maar Adolf Hitler wilde vanwege politiek-strategische redenen per se dat een Italiaan die gouden medaille zou krijgen. Toch stak Hitler zijn bewondering voor Breker niet weg. Brekers carrière was gelanceerd.
Nog datzelfde jaar, 1936, ontmoette Breker Albert Speer voor het eerst – waarvoor hij beelden maakt voor op de Wereldtentoonstelling in Parijs – en een jaar later, in 1937 werd Breker tot Professor benoemd. Maar met de nederlaag van Duitsland in 1945, leek er een abrupt einde te komen aan Brekers carrière.
Na de oorlog…
De eerste jaren na het einde van Wereldoorlog II leefde Breker nogal teruggetrokken. Hij maakte van de tijd, die hij afgezonderd was, wel gebruik om na te denken over zijn leven, de keuzes die hij gemaakt had enz. en om opnieuw contact te zoeken met zijn oude (Franse) vrienden, collega’s. Pas sinds de jaren 1950 liepen de opdrachten terug binnen. Deze opdrachten waren vooral inzake schilderijen, bustes (bijvoorbeeld van de Italiaanse dichter Ezra Pound en de Spaanse kunstenaar Salvador Dali) en zelfs enkele architecturale opdrachten (bijvoorbeeld het Gerling-gebouw in Keulen).
Pas begin de jaren 1980 werden de eerste tentoonstellingen met werken van Breker georganiseerd, al stootten deze op flinke weerstand. Zo moest een expositie in Zürich de deuren sluiten; nog een andere in Berlijn werd verstoord door zo’n 400 antifascistische demonstranten. Pas in 2006, 15 jaar na Brekers dood in 1991, organiseerde de overheid zelf een tentoonstelling met Brekers werken – hierbij refereer ik terug naar het begin van dit artikel – en, zoals ik reeds zei, lokte deze heel wat controverse uit. Doch: meer dan 35 000 mensen kwamen deze tentoonstellingen bezichtigen en de commentaren waren, over het algemeen, lovend. Dit getuigt dat sommige mensen politiek en kunst van elkaar gescheiden weten te houden; en maar goed ook: het zou immers zonde zijn indien dergelijke magnifieke werken, zoals Der Sieger, Eos of nog andere, verloren zouden gaan vanwege het verleden van haar maker.
Geschreven door Gauthier Bourgeois
Bronnen
- “Arno Breker: ein Leben für das Schöne”, Dominique Egret
- “Beelden voor de massa: kunst als wapen in het Derde Rijk”, Michel Peeters
- “Das Bildnis des Menschen im Werk von Arno Breker”, Volker Probst
- “De echo van Arno Breker: kunstenaar, nazi en/of visionair?”
- “Het Arno Breker-taboe”, Mark Schenkel
00:05 Publié dans art | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : art, sculpture, arno breker, années 20, années 30, années 40, arts plastiques | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 07 mai 2011
Drieu La Rochelle vide lo spettro di una nuova guerra e per questo credette nell'Europa unita
Drieu La Rochelle vide lo spettro di una nuova guerra e per questo credette nell’Europa unita
Vi sono scelte che non vengono perdonate, che fruttano al proprio autore la «damnatio memoriae» perpetua, indipendentemente dal valore del personaggio e da tutto quanto egli possa aver detto o fatto di notevole, prima di compiere, magari per ragioni contingenti e sostanzialmente in buona fede, quella tale scelta infelice.
È questo, certamente, il caso dello scrittore Drieu La Rochelle (Parigi, 1893-1945), il quale, nonostante i suoi innegabili meriti letterari e l’importanza di certe sue intuizioni politiche nel periodo fra le due guerre mondiali, per il fatto di aver aderito al Partito Popolare Francese dell’ex comunista Jacques Doriot ed averne condiviso, durante l’occupazione tedesca della Francia, le posizioni collaborazioniste, è stato scacciato per sempre dal salotto buono della cultura europea e ha subito la rimozione sistematica dei suoi meriti di europeista convinto, quando l’idea di un’Europa unita era una rara eccezione alla regola nel panorama uniforme dei gretti nazionalismi.
Ma chi era Pierre Drieu La Rochelle, prima di convertirsi al fascismo, nel 1934, e prima di accettare di collaborare con i Tedeschi nella Francia occupata, fino a ricoprire la direzione della prestigiosissima «Nouvelle Revue Française»?
Non è tanto la sua biografia che qui ci interessa, reperibile presso qualunque testo di letteratura francese, quanto l’itinerario spirituale che lo ha portato, rara e felice eccezione nel panorama degli anni Venti e Trenta, a perorare la causa di una unità europea capace di assorbire e ricomporre i nazionalismi esasperati e contrapposti.
Il primo dato significativo è la sua partecipazione alla prima guerra mondiale, dal principio alla fine (comprese tre ferite sul campo, di cui due nel solo 1914). Egli vi andò entusiasta, come tanti altri giovani della borghesia non solo francese, ma tedesca, russa, austriaca, italiana; ma ne tornò traumatizzato e disgustato. Aveva sognato la guerra eroica, e si trovò scaraventato in una carneficina di tipo industriale, dove la vittoria finale non andava al più audace o al più coraggioso, ma a quello che aveva alle spalle il più potente sistema industriale e finanziario.
Il pacifismo di Drieu La Rochelle, pertanto, non nacque da motivazioni etiche, ma, in un certo senso, estetiche: lettore entusiasta, fin dalla prima gioventù, dello «Zarathustra» nietzschiano, e quindi odiatore della mediocrità e della anonimità della società di massa, egli vide nella guerra moderna non già la smentita, ma il trionfo di quella mediocrità e di quella anonimità, dunque qualcosa di osceno e di stupidamente brutale.
Il secondo dato importante è la lucidità con la quale egli comprese che, a partire dal 1919, l’Europa aveva perduto il suo ruolo primario sulla scena della politica e dell’economia mondiali, a vantaggio di potenze imperiali di tipo “continentale”: Stati Uniti, Russia, e, in prospettiva, Cina e India. Prima di molti intellettuali e di molti uomini politici, egli comprese che nessun Paese europeo – tranne, forse, la Gran Bretagna, in virtù del suo immenso Impero coloniale – avrebbe potuto, alla lunga, reggere il confronto con quei colossi.
Pertanto, anche il suo superamento del nazionalismo – a cui aveva creduto appassionatamente – non si basa su ragionamenti di ordine umanitario, ma di “Realpolitik”. Così come Machiavelli vide lucidamente che gli Stati regionali italiani non avrebbero potuto reggere la sfida delle monarchie nazionali francese e spagnola, se non si fossero riformati da cima a fondo; allo stesso modo Drieu La Rochelle vide che gli Stati europei sarebbero usciti dal gioco delle grandi potenze mondiali se non fossero stati capaci di rinunciare alla pietra d’inciampo del nazionalismo e non avessero costruito una unione di tipo federale.
Il suo giudizio sul nazionalismo, dunque, non scaturiva da ragioni morali, ma politiche: esso aveva fatto il suo tempo. In altre epoche della storia aveva potuto svolgere un ruolo utile, anzi, necessario; adesso, non era altro che un peso morto, un ostacolo privo di senso (egli adopera il termine «rinsecchito») alla futura salvezza del Vecchio Continente.
Perché Drieu La Rochelle era una nazionalista, un francese che amava la Francia sopra ogni altra cosa; ma non fu mai un nazionalista gretto e miope, capace, cioè, di misconoscere la funzione storica e culturale svolta dalle «altre» patrie nella storia d’Europa. Egli, in particolare – cosa tanto più notevole, nel clima della «pace punitiva» imposta a Versailles da Clemenceau alla Germania sconfitta – non fu mai uno spregiatore della cultura tedesca; non solo: sostenne sempre che, accanto all’influsso della Grecia, di Roma e dell’Umanesimo italiano, la cultura francese era il risultato di un altro influsso, quello nordico d’oltre Reno, che aveva svolto un ruolo non meno significativo del primo.
Il terzo elemento è la ricerca tormentata, quasi affannosa, di una formula politica capace di fornire un orientamento spirituale e materiale ai popoli dell’Europa, usciti dalla prova durissima della prima guerra mondiale e frastornati da eventi di grande portata storica, potenzialmente minacciosi, quali la nascita dell’Unione Sovietica, il sorgere del fascismo e, poi, del nazismo, e la grande crisi di Wall Street del 1929. I suoi ondeggiamenti politici sono apparsi sovente quali segni di confusione ideologica e di velleitarismo; forse, sarebbe più giusto considerarli quali segni di una aspirazione ardente, ma sincera, a trovare un porto sicuro nella grande procella che in quegli anni infuriava sul mondo.
Il suo accostamento al Partito Popolare Francese di Doriot, ex comunista divenuto fautore di Hitler e Mussolini, giunge solo alla metà degli anni Trenta, dopo che egli sembra avere esplorato ogni strada, ogni possibilità, per individuare una via d’uscita dalla crisi della civiltà europea che gli sembrava, e a ragione, una crisi non solo economica e politica, ma innanzitutto spirituale. È come se egli avesse bussato a tutte le porte e, solo dopo averle trovate tutte chiuse a doppia mandata, si fosse risolto ad entrare nell’unica stanza che gli si rivelò accessibile.
In ogni caso, è certo che la sua adesione al collaborazionismo con i Tedeschi, dopo il 1940, non ebbe niente di opportunistico e niente di disonorevole, per quanto la si possa considerare politicamente discutibile o anche decisamente sbagliata. Egli non desiderava un’Europa asservita alla volontà di Hitler, e aveva sempre affermato di non intendere l’unità europea come il risultato di un’azione di forza da parte di una singola Potenza. Tuttavia, nel 1940, si trovò a dover fare una scelta irrevocabile: scelse quello che gli parve il male minore. È noto, d’altronde, che si adoperò per ottenere la liberazione di Jean Pulhan, detenuto nelle carceri naziste; ma questo sarebbe stato troppo facilmente dimenticato, nel cima da caccia alle streghe del 1945 che lo spinse al suicidio.
Nella sua ricerca di un nuovo ordine europeo che consentisse alle «patrie» francese, tedesca, inglese, italiana, di continuare a svolgere un ruolo mondiale nell’era dei colossi imperiali, si era accostato anche a certi ambienti industriali e finanziari che egli definiva «capitalismo intelligente», perché aveva intuito che, in un mondo globalizzato, anche il capitalismo avrebbe potuto svolgere una funzione utile, purché si dissociasse dal nazionalismo e contribuisse a creare migliori condizioni di vita per gli abitanti del Vecchio Continente. Grande utopista, e forse sognatore, Drieu La Rochelle si rendeva però conto della importanza dei fattori materiali della vita moderna, e intendeva inserirli nel quadro della nuova Europa da costruire.
Al tempo stesso, egli era un nemico dichiarato della tecnologia fine a se stessa e, più in generale, degli aspetti quantitativi, puramente economicisti della modernità. Una sua lampeggiante intuizione si può riassumere nella frase: «L’uomo, oggi, ha bisogno di ben altro che inventare macchine; ha bisogno di raccogliersi, di danzare: una grande danza meditata, una discesa nel profondo». Pertanto, egli vide lucidamente il pericolo della costruzione di un’Europa senz’anima, rivolta solo agli aspetti materiali dell’esistenza.
Si potrà definire questa posizione come tipicamente decadentistica; e, in effetti, non è certo un caso che, anche sul piano del suo itinerario letterario, egli si sia mosso fra Dadaismo, Surrealismo e Decadentismo alla Thomas Mann: sempre alla ricerca di una nuova via, di un varco fuori dal grigiore della mediocrità della società tecnologica e massificata. In un certo senso, il suo itinerario politico non è stato altro che il riflesso e il prolungamento di quel suo errabondo, infaticabile viaggio artistico alla ricerca, se non di una nuova Terra Promessa, certo di una via di fuga dagli aspetti più alienanti della modernità.
In fondo, la sua vicenda umana, artistica e politica fra vitalismo, pessimismo (pensò più volte al suicidio), estetismo, superomismo e «rivoluzione conservatrice» lo accomuna a personaggi come Ernst Jünger, i quali, dopo essere stati segnati irreversibilmente dall’esperienza della guerra di trincea, si dedicarono interamente alla ricerca di una nuova società, capace di dare un senso a quei sacrifici e di fare proprie cere esigenze del mondo moderno, volgendole però al servizio di un primato dello spirito sull’economia e sulla tecnica.
Quanto alla sua adesione finale al Nuovo Ordine nazista, non bisognerebbe dimenticare che egli non fu poi così isolato come si pensa, dal momento che intellettuali ed artisti del calibro di Ezra Pound, Knut Hamsun e Céline finirono per fare delle scelte analoghe alle sue, e ciascuno di essi in perfetta buona fede. Egli sperò, come quelli, di poter agire dall’interno del sistema hitleriano per affermare i valori in cui aveva sempre creduto, contro la doppia minaccia del totalitarismo politico russo e del totalitarismo finanziario americano; e, se commise un grave errore di giudizio, bisogna pur ammettere che, nel fuoco della seconda guerra mondiale, non tutto quel che oggi ci sembra evidente, con il senno di poi, lo era anche allora; e non tutto quel che si fece allora, nell’Europa dell’Asse, era totalmente folle e scellerato, come poi una Vulgata manichea lo ha voluto dipingere.
Ha scritto Alessandra La Rosa nel suo pregevole saggio «L’idea di Europa in Drieu La Rochelle» (nel volume L’Europa e le sue regioni, frutto di un Convegno internazionale svoltosi presso ‘Università di Catania ed organizzato dal Dipartimento di studi politici nel maggio 1990 (Palermo, Arnaldo Lombardi Editore, pp. 95-106 passim):
«Per Drieu fare l’Europa è una questione vitale da qualunque punto ci si pone, esterno o interno. “Il faut faire les Etates unis d’Europe parce que c’est la seule façon de defendre l’Europa contre elle-même et contre les autres groupes humains”. Se dal punto di vista estero bisogna fare l’Europa per far sì che non sia fagocitata dall’imperialismo capitalista americano e dall’imperialismo socialista risso, dal punto di vista interno i pericoli che nascono da un diffuso ed esasperato nazionalismo chiedono tale soluzione. L’unità europea è necessaria per porre fine alle lotte interne nate dai differenti interessi nazionali che potrebbero culminare in una ulteriore guerra fratricida da cui l’Europa non uscirebbe salva.
Secondo George Boneville, l’odio della guerra e l’amore dell’Europa presentano una stretta correlazione nella maggior parte delle riflessioni fatte dagli intellettuali sul tema dell’Europa. Nel caso di Drieu La Rochelle l’equazione è più complessa. Come vedremo l’atteggiamento europeista di Drieu non scaturisce da un rifiuto della violenza in sé, da un odio per la guerra tra le nazioni e quindi da un amore innato per la pace. L’esprit de guerre e la volontà di potenza sono presenti nel suo pensiero. Come dice Simon “il a chanté la guerre accoucheuse de héros”. Il primo conflitto mondiale viene accettato con entusiasmo da Drieu, che parte volontario. La guerra, al di là del suo carattere ideologico, rappresenta per Drieu l’occasione per permettere di risvegliare nell’uomo quelle virtù virili, come il coraggio, l’amore del rischio e il senso del sacrificio, attraverso le quali affermare la propria volontà di potenza, “en dépit de tous les obstacles et de toutes les menaces”.
Ma è anche vero che sul tema della guerra Drieu dimostra di avere delle esitazioni e dei ripensamenti che alla fine lo portano ad un superamento del suo atteggiamento antipacifista, come dimostra la sua argomentazione su l’unità europea. (…) È la realtà della guerra a mostrare a Drieu la portata dell’errore delle sue immaginazioni giovanili. Per l’uomo Drieu che ha vissuto l’esperienza amara delle trincee e frustrante del campo di battaglia, la guerra non è più “une novetaué mervelleuse, l’accomplissement qui n’était pas espéré de notre jeunesse”, ma solamente una esperienza da ripudiare fatta solo di distruzione e sofferenza (…). La speranza iniziale che la guerra fosse un movimento rivoluzionario rinnovatore e benefico fa posto alla presa di coscienza della estrema bestialità di ogni atto bellicistico. La guerra è solo “geste obscene de la mort” reso ancora più ripugnante dall’uso di armi e di tecniche micidiali proprie della guerra chimica.. Sul campo di battaglia Drieu prende coscienza della profonda dicotomia esistente tra la guerra moderna, da lui vissuta, fatta di ferro , d scienza e di industria, e la guerra “éternelle”, da lui sognata, fatta di scontri frontali, di muscoli, di guerrieri. La “violence des hommes” caratterizza la prima, la “violence des choses” la seconda. La guerra moderna nega tutti i valori che giustificavano agli occhi di Drieu la guerra eterna (…).
La presa di coscienza che ciò che lui aveva vissuto come combattente era la forma decadente della guerra classica spiega il suo disincanto, il suo disgusto, il suo sentimento di sentirsi “blessé”. Ciò ha contribuito a far assumere a Drieu una posizione antimilitarista; ad aprire la strada del suo pensiero al pacifismo che negli anni venti si manifesta come protesta contro la guerra moderna. In tal senso si spiegano certamente le prime affermazioni di Drieu sulla necessità di evitare la ripetizione di una guerra se non si voleva l’agonia dell’universo. (…)
Il cambio di carattere della guerra eterna ci può aiutare a capire le dichiarazioni antimilitariste di Drieu come rifiuto della guerra moderna, ma se ci soffermassimo solamente sulle sue proteste contro la guerra moderna non potremmo capire le sue dichiarazioni di pacifismo assoluto, implicite nella sua posizione europeista. Infatti la condanna della guerra moderna non implica ancora la condanna morale della guerra in sé, quindi anche di quella che per Drieu è la “vera” guerra. È necessario perciò soffermarsi sul superamento della sua posizione nazionalista per capire come Drieu approdi all’internazionalismo pacifista che implica una condanna morale e politica della guerra.
Drieu La Rochelle non è certamente un intellettuale che crede nell’Europa “a priori” e che quindi nega di fatto l’idea nazionale. Tutt’altro (…). È indubbio che nel pensiero di Drieu è possibile individuare degli aspetti della dottrina nazionalista. Ma è anche vero che nello stesso pensiero giovanile di Drieu, ritenuto da alcuni il più patriottico, è possibile individuare delle affermazioni che lo allontanano dalla stretta osservanza del pensiero maurissiano. Nel poema “A vous Allemands” Drieu mostra di non condividere l’antigermanismo dell’Action Français.. Drieu prova del rispetto per il valore e la forza del nemico tedesco, fino a vedere nei tedeschi la fonte della rigenerazione nazionale. (…) Non solo Drieu rifiuta l’antigermanismo politico, ma anche quello filosofico, che invece caratterizzava il pensiero di Maurras. Per Maurras il pensiero francese è figlio dell’umanesimo mediterraneo, espressione quindi di quella ragione e di quella misura tipica del mondo greco-latino. Per Drieu, invece, il pensiero francese non è figlio solo del genio mediterraneo, ma anche delle influenze nordiche. (…)
Se certamente Drieu non è un intellettuale che nega a priori l’idea di nazione, bisogna anche ammettere che il discorso politico di Drieu è caratterizzati da fasi evolutive in cui vi è un ripensamento e un superamento degli aspetti nazionalisti del suo pensiero (…). Genève ou Moscou e L’Europe contre les patries sono testi in cui il superamento della posizione nazionalista di Drieu trova la sua completa realizzazione. Drieu si pone contro il concetto di unità nazionale, presentando l’esagono francese come un “carrefour” aperto sul mondo, aperto sull’Europa, nel cui seno già si realizza l’incontro del genio nordico e mediterraneo. La Francia contemporaneamente fiamminga, bretone, basca, alsaziana, realizzava già l’unità nella diversità (…).
Ogni manifestazione di nazionalismo culturale, integrale, è per Drieu espressione di un “ottuso” conservatorismo che porta a coniugare solo questo verbo: “Je suis français“. Contro l’isolazione culturale, mortale per la stessa creazione, Drieu sostiene l’assimilazione culturale, affermando che per vivere pienamente bisogna espandere la propria identità e non rimanere radicato nella propria (…).
Nel 1922 in Mesure de la France il rifiuto della guerra poteva sembrare più legato alle condizioni inaccettabili della guerra moderna meccanica e chimica, piuttosto che legato ad un superamento della sua posizione nazionalista. Ma i saggi politici di Genève ou Moscou e L’Europe contre les patries dimostrano come Drieu riunisca in uno stesso rifiuto la guerra e il nazionalismo che genera il primo. Il sentimento del patriottismo non corrisponde ala realtà delle cose. Esso è sorpassato. Cosa significa essere un patriota francese in un’Europa aperta ai grandi imperi? “Aujord’hui la France ou l’Allemagne, c’est trop petit” (…).
Rifiutando ogni forma di particolarismo nazionalismo nazionale Drieu esorta i Francesi a “mourir comme Français, à renaitre comme hommes” per poi diventare degli europei. La sua presa di posizione contro le patrie e il nazionalismo ha un corollario positivo: la sua professione di fede europea. (…) La sua speranza nella unione europea si colora, come nella maggior parte dei casi, di pacifismo morale e politico, che può sembrare paradossale in un futuro teorico del fascismo. “Les seuls adversaires de la guerre dans notre societé sons les objecteurs de coscience”. A costoro Drieu dedica un capitolo in Socialisme Fasciste parlandone con ammirazione e simpatia. Nella parte finale di L’Europe contre les patries fa sua la loro tesi. Sotto forma di dialogo col suo “io” Drieu dichiara che nell’evento di una guerra europea rifiuterà la mobilitazione poiché, se come uomo considera la guerra moderna il “geste obscene de la mort”, come europeo vede la sola speranza di sopravvivenza dell’Europa in una unità pacifica. L’amore della nuova patria europea impone non la guerra ma la pace (…).
Nel 1922, in Mesure de la France, egli si muove nella direzione di una Europa delle patrie. (…) Considerando ancora la patria come una realtà che non poteva essere negata, egli propende verso l’idea di una alleanza tra le patrie europee, sotto la forma di una confederazione, dove potrebbe essere creata qualche struttura in comune. Ma nello stesso del 1922 , rifiuta ogni soluzione che si fondi sull’egemonia di una nazione federatrice. (…)
Nel 1928 la posizione di Drieu diventa molto più radicale sul modo di realizzare l’unità europea. Il nome di “Ginevra”, presente nel titolo del suo saggio, indica come in questo periodo Drieu crede che la Società delle nazioni sia l’agente della unificazione europea. La sua speranza di vedere realizzare una unificazione europea sotto il segno liberale lo porta ad ammirare l’azione di alcuni politici: come “l’effort admirable et fécond d’Aristide Briand”. (…)
L’unificazione europea non è solo un’idea, non è solo un progetto morale. Drieu prende posizione anche sulle forze sociali ed economiche che debbono operare prr la sua realizzazione. Egli si rende conto che il sistema economico è un importante agente di unificazione (…) Negli anni Venti, dal 1925 al 1929, Drieu fa appello alla forza del sistema capitalista. Spera in un neo-capitalismo intelligente e riformatore che rinunci alla concorrenza selvaggia che regnava sia tra le azioni che all’interno d queste. L’alleanza tra capitalismo e nazionalismo non può essere, secondo Drieu, che accidentale; la logica stessa dell’evoluzione del capitalismo deve condurlo, se esso vuole sopravvivere, all’internazionalismo (…) Drieu sostiene i nuovi capitalisti, agenti di un sistema industriale intelligente, poiché li considera forze rivoluzionarie che concorrono alla realizzazione della unità europea».
Abbiamo paragonato Drieu La Rochelle a un viandante che bussa a tutte le porte, consapevole – come pochi suoi contemporanei lo erano stati – dei tempi tremendi che si andavano preparando, fin dall’epoca della conferenza di Versailles che, chiudendo il capitolo della prima guerra mondiale, apriva le ragioni per lo scoppio della seconda.
Tipica, in proposito, è stata la sua illusione che la Società delle Nazioni potesse svolgere il ruolo storico di tenere a battesimo la nascita della nuova Europa unita: illusione generosa e, a suo modo, non del tutto sbagliata, se gli uomini che erano allora alla guida dell’Europa avessero posseduto un po’ più di lungimiranza e un po’ più di saggezza. Invece, come è noto, la Società delle Nazioni divenne quasi subito un supplemento di potere per le ambizioni egemoniche della Gran Bretagna e della Francia, svuotandola di ogni credibilità e di ogni significato ideale.
Il risultato di quella miopia, di quel gretto egoismo nazionalista è noto: sia la Gran Bretagna che la Francia perdettero tanto i loro imperi coloniali, quanto il loro ruolo di potenze mondiali, subito dopo la fine della seconda guerra mondiale: avevano sacrificato una splendida occasione di mettersi all’avanguardia dell’unità europea per inseguire la chimera di una splendida autosuffcienza «imperiale», per la quale non possedevano né i mezzi, né la credibilità ideologica (dopo aver combattuto contro Hitler in nome della libertà dei popoli di tutto il mondo).
Che dire, dunque, del sogno europeista di Drieu La Rochelle?
Anche se, oggi, è di gran moda esercitarsi nel tiro al bersaglio sugli sconfitti e stracciarsi le vesti davanti agli errori e alle contraddizioni dei perdenti, nondimeno bisognerebbe recuperare quel minimo di onestà intellettuale per rendere atto a uomini come Drieu La Rochelle che il loro sogno non è stato solo e unicamente uno sbaglio; che un’Europa diversa e migliore avrebbe potuto nascere, e la tragedia della seconda guerra mondiale avrebbe potuto essere evitata, se altri uomini generosi avessero condiviso quel medesimo sogno.
00:05 Publié dans Histoire, Littérature | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, littérature, lettres, lettres françaises, littérature française, européisme, drieu la rochelle, années 30, années 40, seconde guerre mondiale, deuxième guerre mon, duiale, collaboration, france, europe | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mardi, 26 avril 2011
Nicola Bombacci: de Lênin a Mussolini
Nicola Bombacci: de Lênin a Mussolini
por Erik Norling
A 29 de Abril de 1945 eram assassinados os principais líderes fascistas às mãos dos guerrilheiros comunistas. E entre estes fascistas encontramos, curiosamente, Nicola Bombacci, antiga figura máxima do comunismo italiano, fundador do Partido Comunista de Itália (PCI), amigo pessoal de Lenine com quem esteve na URSS durante os anos da Revolução, apodado de “O Papa Vermelho” pela burguesia e finalmente incondicional seguidor de Mussolini, a quem se juntou nos últimos meses do seu regime. A sua história é uma história de conversão ou de traição?... Ou, talvez, de evolução natural de um nacional-bolchevique?...
Um jovem revolucionário
Nicola Bombacci nasce no seio de uma família católica (o seu pai era agricultor, antigo soldado do Estado Pontifício) da Romagna, na província de Forli, a 24 de Outubro de 1879, a escassos quilómetros de Predappio, onde quatro anos mais tarde nascerá o futuro fundador do Fascismo. Trata-se de uma região marcada por duras lutas operárias e por um campesinato habituado à rebelião, terra de paixões extremas. Por imposição paterna ingressa no seminário mas rapidamente o abandona aquando da morte do seu progenitor. Em 1903 ingressa no anticlerical Partido Socialista (PSI) e decide tornar-se professor para poder assim servir as classes menos favorecidas na sua luta (novamente as semelhanças com o Duce são evidentes, tendo chegado a estudar na mesma escola superior) mas rapidamente passa a dedicar-se de corpo e alma à revolução socialista. A sua capacidade de trabalho e os seus dotes de organizador valem-lhe a direcção dos órgãos da imprensa socialista, o que lhe permitirá aumentar a sua influência no seio do movimento operário, chegando a ser Secretário do Comité Central do Partido, onde conhecerá um jovem uns anos mais novo: Benito Mussolini, que, não nos esqueçamos, foi a promessa do socialismo italiano antes de se tornar nacional-revolucionário. [1]
Opondo-se à linha moderada da social-democracia, Bombacci fundará juntamente com Gramsci o Partido Comunista de Itália após a cisão interna do PSI e viajará em princípios dos anos 20 para a URSS, para participar na revolução bolchevique, aonde já antes tinha estado como representante do Partido Socialista tendo sido conquistado pela causa dos sovietes. Aí trava amizade com o próprio Lenine que lhe dirá numa recepção no Kremlin estas famosas palavras sobre Mussolini: “Em Itália, companheiros, em Itália só há um socialista capaz de guiar o povo para a revolução: Benito Mussolini”, e pouco depois o Duce encabeçaria uma revolução, mas fascista… [2]
Como líder (António Gramsci era o teórico, Bombacci o organizador) do recém-criado PCI, torna-se no autêntico “inimigo público nº 1” da burguesia italiana, que o apoda de “O Papa Vermelho”. Revalidará brilhantemente o seu lugar de deputado, desta vez nas listas da nova formação, enquanto que as esquadras fascistas começam a tomar as ruas enfrentando as milícias comunistas em sangrentos combates. Bombacci empenhar-se-á em deter a marcha para o poder do fascismo mas fracassará, desde as páginas dos seus jornais lança invectivas contra o fascismo arengando a defesa da revolução comunista. É uma época em que os esquadristas de camisa negra cantam canções irreverentes como “Não tenho medo de Bombacci / Com a barba de Bombacci faremos spazzolini (escovas) / Para abrilhantar a careca de Benito Mussolini”. Etapa em que o comunismo se vê imerso em numerosas tensões internas e o próprio Bombacci entra em polémica com os seus companheiros de partido sendo um dos pontos de fricção a opção entre nacionalismo e internacionalismo. Já antes tinha demonstrado tendências nacionalistas, que faziam pressagiar a sua futura linha. Quando ainda estava no Partido Socialista e como consequência de um documento protestando contra a acção de Fiume levada a cabo por D’Annunzio que o Partido queria apresentar, Bombacci rebelou-se e escreveu sobre este que era “Perfeita e profundamente revolucionário; porque D’Annunzio é revolucionário. Disse-o Lenine no Congresso de Moscovo”. [3]
Nicola Bombacci nasce no seio de uma família católica (o seu pai era agricultor, antigo soldado do Estado Pontifício) da Romagna, na província de Forli, a 24 de Outubro de 1879, a escassos quilómetros de Predappio, onde quatro anos mais tarde nascerá o futuro fundador do Fascismo. Trata-se de uma região marcada por duras lutas operárias e por um campesinato habituado à rebelião, terra de paixões extremas. Por imposição paterna ingressa no seminário mas rapidamente o abandona aquando da morte do seu progenitor. Em 1903 ingressa no anticlerical Partido Socialista (PSI) e decide tornar-se professor para poder assim servir as classes menos favorecidas na sua luta (novamente as semelhanças com o Duce são evidentes, tendo chegado a estudar na mesma escola superior) mas rapidamente passa a dedicar-se de corpo e alma à revolução socialista. A sua capacidade de trabalho e os seus dotes de organizador valem-lhe a direcção dos órgãos da imprensa socialista, o que lhe permitirá aumentar a sua influência no seio do movimento operário, chegando a ser Secretário do Comité Central do Partido, onde conhecerá um jovem uns anos mais novo: Benito Mussolini, que, não nos esqueçamos, foi a promessa do socialismo italiano antes de se tornar nacional-revolucionário. [1]
Opondo-se à linha moderada da social-democracia, Bombacci fundará juntamente com Gramsci o Partido Comunista de Itália após a cisão interna do PSI e viajará em princípios dos anos 20 para a URSS, para participar na revolução bolchevique, aonde já antes tinha estado como representante do Partido Socialista tendo sido conquistado pela causa dos sovietes. Aí trava amizade com o próprio Lenine que lhe dirá numa recepção no Kremlin estas famosas palavras sobre Mussolini: “Em Itália, companheiros, em Itália só há um socialista capaz de guiar o povo para a revolução: Benito Mussolini”, e pouco depois o Duce encabeçaria uma revolução, mas fascista… [2]
Como líder (António Gramsci era o teórico, Bombacci o organizador) do recém-criado PCI, torna-se no autêntico “inimigo público nº 1” da burguesia italiana, que o apoda de “O Papa Vermelho”. Revalidará brilhantemente o seu lugar de deputado, desta vez nas listas da nova formação, enquanto que as esquadras fascistas começam a tomar as ruas enfrentando as milícias comunistas em sangrentos combates. Bombacci empenhar-se-á em deter a marcha para o poder do fascismo mas fracassará, desde as páginas dos seus jornais lança invectivas contra o fascismo arengando a defesa da revolução comunista. É uma época em que os esquadristas de camisa negra cantam canções irreverentes como “Não tenho medo de Bombacci / Com a barba de Bombacci faremos spazzolini (escovas) / Para abrilhantar a careca de Benito Mussolini”. Etapa em que o comunismo se vê imerso em numerosas tensões internas e o próprio Bombacci entra em polémica com os seus companheiros de partido sendo um dos pontos de fricção a opção entre nacionalismo e internacionalismo. Já antes tinha demonstrado tendências nacionalistas, que faziam pressagiar a sua futura linha. Quando ainda estava no Partido Socialista e como consequência de um documento protestando contra a acção de Fiume levada a cabo por D’Annunzio que o Partido queria apresentar, Bombacci rebelou-se e escreveu sobre este que era “Perfeita e profundamente revolucionário; porque D’Annunzio é revolucionário. Disse-o Lenine no Congresso de Moscovo”. [3]
O primeiro fascismo
Em 1922 os fascistas marcham sobre a capital do Tibre; nada pode impedir que Mussolini assuma o poder, ainda que este não seja absoluto durante os primeiros anos do regime. Como deputado e membro do Comité Central do Partido, assim como encarregado das relações exteriores do mesmo, Bombacci viaja ao estrangeiro frequentemente. Participa no IV Congresso da Internacional Comunista representando a Itália, e, no Comité de Acção Antifascista, entrevista-se com dirigentes bolcheviques russos. Leva já metade da sua vida dedicada à causa do proletariado e não está disposto a desistir do seu empenho em levar à prática o seu sonho socialista. Torna-se fervente defensor da aproximação da Itália à URSS na Câmara e na imprensa comunista, falando seguramente em nome e por instigação dos dirigentes moscovitas, mas utilizando um discurso nacional-revolucionário que incomoda no seio do Partido, que por outro lado está em plena debandada após a vitória fascista. As relações com o revolucionário Estado soviético seriam uma vantagem para a Itália enquanto nação que também atravessa um processo revolucionário, ainda que fascista. É imediatamente acusado de herético e pedem-lhe que rectifique as suas posições. Não podem admitir que um comunista exija, como o faz Bombacci, “superar a Nação (sem) a destruir, queremo-la maior, porque queremos um governo de trabalhadores e agricultores”, socialista e sem negar a Pátria “direito incontestável e sacro de todo o homem e de todos os grupos de homens”. É a chamada “Terceira Via” onde o nacionalismo revolucionário do fascismo se encontra com o socialismo revolucionário comunista.
Bombacci é progressivamente marginalizado no seio do PCI e condenado ao ostracismo político, embora não deixe de manter contactos com alguns dirigentes russos e com a embaixada russa para a qual trabalha, além de que um dos seus filhos vivia na URSS. Acreditava sinceramente na revolução bolchevique e que, ao contrário dos camaradas italianos, os russos tinham um sentido nacional da revolução pelo que jamais renegará a sua amizade para com a URSS, nem sequer depois de aderir definitivamente ao fascismo.
Com a expulsão definitiva do partido em 1927, Bombacci entra numa etapa que podemos qualificar como os anos do silêncio que dura até 1936, altura em que lança a sua editorial e a revista homónima baptizada “La Veritá” e que culminará em 1943 numa progressiva conversão ao fascismo. No entanto é demasiado fácil considerar que Bombacci simplesmente se passou de armas e bagagens para o fascismo como pretendem os que o acusam de ser um “traidor”. Assistiremos a um processo lento de aproximação, não ao fascismo mas sim a Mussolini e à ala esquerdista do movimento fascista, onde Bombacci se sente aconchegado e em família, próximo das suas concepções revolucionárias, o corporativismo e as leis sociais deste fascismo de que “todo o postulado é um programa do socialismo”, segundo dirá em 1928 reconhecendo a sua identificação. [4]
Em 1922 os fascistas marcham sobre a capital do Tibre; nada pode impedir que Mussolini assuma o poder, ainda que este não seja absoluto durante os primeiros anos do regime. Como deputado e membro do Comité Central do Partido, assim como encarregado das relações exteriores do mesmo, Bombacci viaja ao estrangeiro frequentemente. Participa no IV Congresso da Internacional Comunista representando a Itália, e, no Comité de Acção Antifascista, entrevista-se com dirigentes bolcheviques russos. Leva já metade da sua vida dedicada à causa do proletariado e não está disposto a desistir do seu empenho em levar à prática o seu sonho socialista. Torna-se fervente defensor da aproximação da Itália à URSS na Câmara e na imprensa comunista, falando seguramente em nome e por instigação dos dirigentes moscovitas, mas utilizando um discurso nacional-revolucionário que incomoda no seio do Partido, que por outro lado está em plena debandada após a vitória fascista. As relações com o revolucionário Estado soviético seriam uma vantagem para a Itália enquanto nação que também atravessa um processo revolucionário, ainda que fascista. É imediatamente acusado de herético e pedem-lhe que rectifique as suas posições. Não podem admitir que um comunista exija, como o faz Bombacci, “superar a Nação (sem) a destruir, queremo-la maior, porque queremos um governo de trabalhadores e agricultores”, socialista e sem negar a Pátria “direito incontestável e sacro de todo o homem e de todos os grupos de homens”. É a chamada “Terceira Via” onde o nacionalismo revolucionário do fascismo se encontra com o socialismo revolucionário comunista.
Bombacci é progressivamente marginalizado no seio do PCI e condenado ao ostracismo político, embora não deixe de manter contactos com alguns dirigentes russos e com a embaixada russa para a qual trabalha, além de que um dos seus filhos vivia na URSS. Acreditava sinceramente na revolução bolchevique e que, ao contrário dos camaradas italianos, os russos tinham um sentido nacional da revolução pelo que jamais renegará a sua amizade para com a URSS, nem sequer depois de aderir definitivamente ao fascismo.
Com a expulsão definitiva do partido em 1927, Bombacci entra numa etapa que podemos qualificar como os anos do silêncio que dura até 1936, altura em que lança a sua editorial e a revista homónima baptizada “La Veritá” e que culminará em 1943 numa progressiva conversão ao fascismo. No entanto é demasiado fácil considerar que Bombacci simplesmente se passou de armas e bagagens para o fascismo como pretendem os que o acusam de ser um “traidor”. Assistiremos a um processo lento de aproximação, não ao fascismo mas sim a Mussolini e à ala esquerdista do movimento fascista, onde Bombacci se sente aconchegado e em família, próximo das suas concepções revolucionárias, o corporativismo e as leis sociais deste fascismo de que “todo o postulado é um programa do socialismo”, segundo dirá em 1928 reconhecendo a sua identificação. [4]
Comprovamos assim que Bombacci não é um fascista, mas defende as conquistas do regime e a figura de Mussolini. Não se aproximou do partido fascista – jamais se inscreveu no Partido Nacional Fascista – apesar da sua amizade reconhecida com Mussolini, não aceitou cargos que lhe poderiam oferecer nem renegou as suas origens comunistas. A sua independência valia mais. No entanto convenceu-se de que o Estado Corporativo proposto pelo fascismo era a realização mais perfeita, o socialismo levado à prática, um estado superior ao comunismo. Jamais camuflará os seus ideais, em 1936 escrevia na revista “La Veritá”, confessando a sua adesão ao fascismo mas também ao comunismo:“O fascismo fez uma grandiosa revolução social, Mussolini e Lenine. Soviete e Estado fascista corporativo, Roma e Moscovo. Muito tivemos que rectificar, nada de que nos fazer perdoar, pois hoje como ontem move-nos o mesmo ideal: o triunfo do trabalho”. [5]
Enquanto isto sucedia Bombacci tem um longo intercâmbio epistolar com o Duce tentando influenciar o antigo socialista na sua política social. O máximo historiador do fascismo, Renzo de Felice, escreveu a este respeito que Bombacci tem o mérito de ter sugerido a Mussolini mais do que uma das medidas adoptadas nesses anos 30. [6] Numa destas missivas, datada de Julho de 1934, propõe um programa de economia autárquica (que Mussolini aplicará) que, diz Bombacci ao Duce, é mostra da sua “vontade de trabalhar mais naquilo que agora concerne, no interesse e pelo triunfo do Estado Corporativo…”, como faz também desde as páginas da sua revista onde uma e outra vez batalha por uma autarcia que faça da Itália um país independente e capaz de enfrentar as potências plutocráticas (entenda-se os EUA, mas também a França e a Inglaterra). Por isso apoia decididamente a intervenção na Etiópia em 1935, mas não como campanha colonial senão como prelúdio da confrontação entre os países “proletários” (entre os quais estaria a Itália fascista) e os “capitalistas” que irremediavelmente chegaria, essa “revolução mundial (que) restabelecerá o equilíbrio mundial”. A acção italiana seria uma “típica e inconfundível conquista proletária”, destinada a derrotar as potências “capitalistas” e cuja experiência “deverá ser assumida… como um dado fundamental para a redenção das gentes de cor, ainda sob a opressão do capitalismo mais terrível”. [7]
Contra Estaline
Entre os anos de 1936 e 1943, difíceis para o fascismo pois iniciam-se os conflitos armados, prelúdio da derrota, Bombacci acrescenta a sua adesão ideológica a Mussolini. É um homem com quase 60 anos, viu como muitos dos seus sonhos socialistas não se realizaram, mas é um eterno idealista e não está disposto a abandonar a luta pelo socialismo, por “essa obra de redenção económica e de elevação espiritual do proletariado italiano que os socialistas da primeira hora tínhamos iniciado”. A sua editorial é uma ruína económica, os seus biógrafos deixaram constância das dificuldades e penúrias que sofre. Ter-lhe-ia bastado um passo oportunista e integrar-se no fascismo oficial e teria disposto de todas as ajudas do aparato do Estado mas não quer perder a sua independência ainda que em ocasiões deva aceitar subvenções do Ministério de Cultura Popular.
Esta etapa coincide com uma profunda reflexão sobre os seus erros passados e uma série de ataques ao comunismo russo que se tinha vendido às potências capitalistas traindo os postulados de Lenine. Assim, escreve Bombacci em Novembro de 1937, as relações entre a URSS e os países democráticos só tinha uma explicação que revelaria tudo o resto: “a razão é só uma, frívola, vulgar, mas real: o interesse, o dinheiro, o negócio”, pelo que este antigo comunista podia declarar abertamente que “nós proclamamos com a consciência limpa que a Rússia bolchevique de Estaline se tornou uma colónia do capitalismo maçónico-hebraico-internacional…”. A alusão anti-semita não é nova em Bombacci, nem nos teóricos socialistas do início do século, pois não devemos esquecer que o anti-semitismo moderno teve os seus mais ferventes defensores precisamente entre os doutrinários revolucionários de finais do século XIX, quando o judeu encarnava a figura do odiado capitalista. Em Bombacci não encontramos um anti-semitismo racialista mas sim social, de acordo com os posicionamentos mediterrânicos do problema judeu diferentemente do anti-judaismo alemão ou gaulês.
Quando estala a II Guerra Mundial, e especialmente ao estalar na frente Leste, Bombacci participa em pleno nas campanhas anticomunistas do regime. Como dirigente comunista conhecedor da URSS a sua voz faz-se ouvir. No entanto não renega os seus ideais, pelo contrário aprofunda a tese de que Estaline e os seus acólitos traíram a revolução. Escreve numerosos artigos contra Estaline, sobre as condições reais de vida no chamado “paraíso comunista”, as medidas adoptadas por este para destruir todos os sucessos do socialismo leninista. Em 1943, pouco antes da queda do Fascismo, concluía Bombacci resumindo a sua posição num folheto de propaganda:
“Qual das duas revoluções, a fascista ou a bolchevique, fará história no século XX e ficará na história como criadora de uma ordem nova de valores sociais e mundiais?
Qual das duas revoluções resolveu o problema agrário interpretando verdadeiramente os desejos e aspirações dos camponeses e os interesses económicos e sociais da colectividade nacional?
Roma venceu!
Moscovo materialista e semi-bárbara, com um capitalismo totalitário de Estado-Patrão quer juntar-se à força (planos quinquenais), levando à miséria mais negra os seus cidadãos, à industrialização existente nos países que durante o século XIX seguiram um processo de regime capitalista burguês. Moscovo completa a fase capitalista.
Roma é outra coisa.
Moscovo, com a reforma de Estaline, retrata-se institucionalmente ao nível de qualquer Estado burguês parlamentar. Economicamente há uma diferença substancial, porque, enquanto que nos Estados burgueses o governo é formado por delegados da classe capitalista, aqui o governo está nas mãos da burocracia bolchevique, uma nova classe que na realidade é pior que essa classe capitalista porque dispõe sem qualquer controlo do trabalho, da produção e da vida dos cidadãos”. [8]
A República Social Italiana
Quando Mussolini é deposto em Julho de 1943 e resgatado pelos alemães uns meses depois, o Partido Nacional Fascista já se desagregou. A estrutura orgânica desapareceu, os dirigentes do partido, provenientes das camadas privilegiadas da sociedade passaram-se em massa para o governo de Badoglio e a Itália encontra-se dividida em dois (ao sul de Roma os Aliados avançam em direcção ao norte). Mussolini reagrupa os seus mais fiéis, todos eles velhos camaradas da primeira hora ou jovens entusiastas, quase nenhum dirigente de alto nível, que ainda acreditam na revolução fascista e proclama a República Social Italiana. Imediatamente o fascismo parece voltar às suas origens revolucionárias e Nicola Bombacci adere à república proclamada e presta a Mussolini todo o seu apoio. O seu sonho é poder levar a cabo a construção dessa “República dos trabalhadores” pela qual tanto ele como Mussolini se bateram juntos no início do século. Tal como Bombacci, outros conhecidos intelectuais de esquerda juntam-se ao novo governo: Carlo Silvestri (deputado socialista, depois da guerra defensor da memória do Duce), Edmondo Cione (filosofo socialista que será autorizado a criar um partido socialista aparte do Partido Fascista Republicano), etc.O primeiro contacto com Mussolini ocorre a 11 de Outubro, apenas um mês depois da proclamação da RSI, e é epistolar. Bombacci escreve a Mussolini a partir de Roma, cidade onde o fascismo ruiu estrepitosamente (os romanos destruíram todos os símbolos do anterior regime nas ruas), mas onde ainda existem muitos fascistas de coração, e é este o momento que escolhe para declarar a Mussolini que está consigo. Não quando tudo corria bem, mas sim nos momentos difíceis como tão-só o fazem os verdadeiros camaradas:
“Estou hoje mais que ontem totalmente consigo” – confessa Bombacci – “a vil traição do rei-Badoglio trouxe por todos os lados a ruína e a desonra de Itália mas libertou-a de todos os compromissos pluto-monárquicos de 22.
Hoje o caminho está livre e em minha opinião só se pode recorrer ao abrigo socialista. Acima de tudo: a vitória das armas.
Mas para assegurar a vitória deve ter a adesão da massa operária. Como? Com feitos decisivos e radicais no sector económico-produtivo e sindical…
Sempre às suas ordens com o grande afecto já de trinta anos.”
Mussolini, acossado pela situação militar mas mais decidido que nunca a levar a cabo a sua revolução agora que se libertou dos lastros do passado, autoriza que os sectores mais radicais do partido assumam o poder e inicia-se uma etapa denominada de “socialização” (nome proposto por Bombacci e aceite pelo Duce) que se traduzirá na promulgação de leis de inspiração claramente socialista, em relação à criação de sindicatos, à co-gestão das empresas, à distribuição de lucros e à nacionalização dos sectores industriais de importância. Tudo isto foi resumido nos 18 Pontos do primeiro (e único) congresso do Partido Fascista Republicano em Verona, documento redigido conjuntamente por Mussolini e Bombacci, que se constituiria como a base do Estado Social Republicano. Na política exterior tentará convencer Mussolini a assinar a paz com a URSS e a prosseguir a guerra contra a plutocracia anglo-saxã, ressuscitar o eixo Roma-Berlim-Moscovo dos pensadores geopolíticos do nacional-bolchevismo dos anos 20, proposta que parece ter tido êxito em Mussolini que escreverá vários artigos para a imprensa republicana sobre este assunto mesmo sabendo que esta proposta tinha uma tenaz oposição por parte de um amplo sector do partido, em particular de Roberto Farinacci. Bombacci viaja para o norte e reinstala-se perto do seu amigo Walter Mocchi, outro veterano dirigente comunista convertido ao fascismo mussoliniano que trabalha para o Ministério de Cultura Popular.
Se para muitos o último Mussolini era um homem acabado, títere dos alemães, não deixa de surpreender a adesão que recebe de homens como Bombacci, um verdadeiro idealista, de estatura imponente, com a barba crescida e uma oratória atraente, alérgico a tudo o que pudesse significar acomodar-se ou aburguesar-se, que tão-pouco agora aceitará salário ou prebendas (apenas em princípios de 1945 aparecerá o seu nome numa lista de propostas de salários do ministério da Economia ou como Chefe da Confederação Única do Trabalho e da Técnica). Bombacci tornar-se-á assessor pessoal e confidente de Mussolini, para atrair de novo às bases do partido os trabalhadores. Propõe a criação de comités sindicais, abertos a não militantes fascistas, eleições sindicais livres, viajará pelas fábricas do norte industrializado (Milão-Turim) explicando a revolução social do novo regime e o porquê da sua adesão. O velho combatente revolucionário parece de novo rejuvenescer, após um comício em Verona e várias visitas a empresas socializadas escreve ao Duce a 22 de Dezembro de 1944: “Falei durante uma hora e trinta minutos num teatro entregue e entusiasta… a plateia, composta na maior parte por operários vibrou gritando: sim, queremos combater por Itália, pela república, pela socialização… pela manhã visitei a Mondadori, já socializada, e falei com os operários que constituem o Conselho de Gestão que achei cheio de entusiasmo e compreensão por esta nossa missão”. Enquanto a situação militar se deteriorava, os grupos terroristas comunistas (os tragicamente famosos GAP) já tinham decidido eliminá-lo pelo perigo que a sua actividade representava para os seus objectivos. [9]
Mas a guerra está a chegar ao fim. Benito Mussolini, aconselhado pelo deputado ex-socialista Carlo Silvestri e Bombacci, propõe entregar o poder aos socialistas, integrados no Comité Nacional de Libertação. [10] Em Abril de 1945 as autoridades militares alemãs rendem-se aos Aliados, sem informar os italianos, é o fim. Abandonados e sós.
Se para muitos o último Mussolini era um homem acabado, títere dos alemães, não deixa de surpreender a adesão que recebe de homens como Bombacci, um verdadeiro idealista, de estatura imponente, com a barba crescida e uma oratória atraente, alérgico a tudo o que pudesse significar acomodar-se ou aburguesar-se, que tão-pouco agora aceitará salário ou prebendas (apenas em princípios de 1945 aparecerá o seu nome numa lista de propostas de salários do ministério da Economia ou como Chefe da Confederação Única do Trabalho e da Técnica). Bombacci tornar-se-á assessor pessoal e confidente de Mussolini, para atrair de novo às bases do partido os trabalhadores. Propõe a criação de comités sindicais, abertos a não militantes fascistas, eleições sindicais livres, viajará pelas fábricas do norte industrializado (Milão-Turim) explicando a revolução social do novo regime e o porquê da sua adesão. O velho combatente revolucionário parece de novo rejuvenescer, após um comício em Verona e várias visitas a empresas socializadas escreve ao Duce a 22 de Dezembro de 1944: “Falei durante uma hora e trinta minutos num teatro entregue e entusiasta… a plateia, composta na maior parte por operários vibrou gritando: sim, queremos combater por Itália, pela república, pela socialização… pela manhã visitei a Mondadori, já socializada, e falei com os operários que constituem o Conselho de Gestão que achei cheio de entusiasmo e compreensão por esta nossa missão”. Enquanto a situação militar se deteriorava, os grupos terroristas comunistas (os tragicamente famosos GAP) já tinham decidido eliminá-lo pelo perigo que a sua actividade representava para os seus objectivos. [9]
Mas a guerra está a chegar ao fim. Benito Mussolini, aconselhado pelo deputado ex-socialista Carlo Silvestri e Bombacci, propõe entregar o poder aos socialistas, integrados no Comité Nacional de Libertação. [10] Em Abril de 1945 as autoridades militares alemãs rendem-se aos Aliados, sem informar os italianos, é o fim. Abandonados e sós.
Crepúsculo de um nacional-revolucionário
Durante os últimos meses da RSI Bombbaci continuou a campanha para recuperar as massas populares e evitar que se decantassem pelo bolchevismo. Em finais de 1944 publicava um opúsculo intitulado «Isto é o Bolchevismo», reproduzido no jornal católico «Crociata Italica» em Março de 1945. Bombacci insiste nas críticas aos desvios estalinistas do comunismo real que destruiu o verdadeiro sindicalismo revolucionário na Europa com as ingerências russas. Nestas últimas semanas de vida da experiência republicana, Bombacci está ao lado dos que ainda acreditam numa solução de compromisso com o inimigo para assim evitar a ruína do país. Leal até ao fim, ficará com Mussolini mesmo quando tudo já está definitivamente perdido. Profeticamente fala disso aos seus operários numa das suas últimas aparições públicas, em Março de 1945:
“Irmãos de fé e de luta… não reneguei aos meus ideais pelos quais lutei e pelos quais, se Deus me deixar viver mais, lutarei sempre. Mas agora encontro-me nas fileiras das cores que militam na República Social Italiana, e vim outra vez porque agora sim é a sério e é verdadeiramente decisivo reivindicar os direitos dos operários…”
Nicola Bombacci, sempre fiel, sempre sereno, acompanhará Mussolini na sua última e dramática viagem até à morte. A 25 de Abril está em Milão. O relato de Vittorio Mussolini, filho do Duce, sobre o seu último encontro com o seu pai, acompanhado por Bombacci, mostra-nos a inteireza deste:
“Pensei no destino deste homem, um verdadeiro apóstolo do proletariado, em certa altura inimigo acérrimo do fascismo e agora ao lado do meu pai, sem nenhum cargo nem prebenda, fiel a dois chefes diferentes até à morte. A sua calma serviu-me de consolo”. [11]
Pouco depois, após Mussolini se separar da coluna dos seus últimos fiéis para os poupar ao seu destino, Bombacci é detido por um grupo de guerrilheiros comunistas junto com um grupo de hierarcas fascistas. Na manhã de 28 de Abril era colocado contra o paredão em Dongo, no norte do país, ao lado de Barracu, valoroso ex-combatente, mutilado de guerra, de Pavolini, o poeta-secretário do partido, de Valério Zerbino, um intelectual e Coppola, outro pensador. Todos gritam, perante o pelotão que os assassina, “Viva Itália!”. Bombacci, enquanto tomba crivado pelas balas dos comunistas, grita: “Viva o Socialismo!”.
Durante os últimos meses da RSI Bombbaci continuou a campanha para recuperar as massas populares e evitar que se decantassem pelo bolchevismo. Em finais de 1944 publicava um opúsculo intitulado «Isto é o Bolchevismo», reproduzido no jornal católico «Crociata Italica» em Março de 1945. Bombacci insiste nas críticas aos desvios estalinistas do comunismo real que destruiu o verdadeiro sindicalismo revolucionário na Europa com as ingerências russas. Nestas últimas semanas de vida da experiência republicana, Bombacci está ao lado dos que ainda acreditam numa solução de compromisso com o inimigo para assim evitar a ruína do país. Leal até ao fim, ficará com Mussolini mesmo quando tudo já está definitivamente perdido. Profeticamente fala disso aos seus operários numa das suas últimas aparições públicas, em Março de 1945:
“Irmãos de fé e de luta… não reneguei aos meus ideais pelos quais lutei e pelos quais, se Deus me deixar viver mais, lutarei sempre. Mas agora encontro-me nas fileiras das cores que militam na República Social Italiana, e vim outra vez porque agora sim é a sério e é verdadeiramente decisivo reivindicar os direitos dos operários…”
Nicola Bombacci, sempre fiel, sempre sereno, acompanhará Mussolini na sua última e dramática viagem até à morte. A 25 de Abril está em Milão. O relato de Vittorio Mussolini, filho do Duce, sobre o seu último encontro com o seu pai, acompanhado por Bombacci, mostra-nos a inteireza deste:
“Pensei no destino deste homem, um verdadeiro apóstolo do proletariado, em certa altura inimigo acérrimo do fascismo e agora ao lado do meu pai, sem nenhum cargo nem prebenda, fiel a dois chefes diferentes até à morte. A sua calma serviu-me de consolo”. [11]
Pouco depois, após Mussolini se separar da coluna dos seus últimos fiéis para os poupar ao seu destino, Bombacci é detido por um grupo de guerrilheiros comunistas junto com um grupo de hierarcas fascistas. Na manhã de 28 de Abril era colocado contra o paredão em Dongo, no norte do país, ao lado de Barracu, valoroso ex-combatente, mutilado de guerra, de Pavolini, o poeta-secretário do partido, de Valério Zerbino, um intelectual e Coppola, outro pensador. Todos gritam, perante o pelotão que os assassina, “Viva Itália!”. Bombacci, enquanto tomba crivado pelas balas dos comunistas, grita: “Viva o Socialismo!”.
_____________
Notas:
1. Em português, sobre o movimento revolucionário do pré-fascismo veja-se o excelente trabalho do professor israelita Zeev Sternhell e dos seus colaboradores, «Nascimento da ideologia fascista», onde curiosamente quase não se menciona Bombacci.
2. Sobre a trajectória revolucionária de Bombacci há um excelente trabalho de Gugliemo Salotti intitulado «Nicola Bombacci, da Mosca a Saló».
3. Referimo-nos à tomada da cidade dálmata em 1919 pelo poeta-soldado Gabrielle D’Annunzio, que é considerada por muitos autores como o primeiro capítulo da revolução fascista. Veja-se Carlos Caballero, “La fascinante historia D’Annunzio en Fiume”, em Revisión, Alicante, ano I, 2, vol. IV, Outubro de 1990.
4. Sobre a ala esquerdista do fascismo: Luca Leonello Rimbotti, «Il fascismo di sinistra. Da Piazza San Sepolcro al congresso di Verona», Roma, Settimo Sigillo, 1989. Ver também: Giuseppe Parlato, “La Sinistra fascista. Storia de un progetto mancato”, Bolinia, Il Mulino, 2000.
5. Cit. Arrigo Petacco, «Il comunista in camicia nera. Nicola Bombacci tra Lenin e Mussolini», Milão, Mondadori Editori, 1996, p. 115.
6. «Mussolini il Duce. II. Lo Stato totalitario 1936-1940», Turim, Einaudi, 1981 (2a, 1996), p. 331 n.
7. A correspondência de Bombacci para Mussolini (mas não a do Duce para este) está conservada em parte no Arquivo Central do Estado Italiano.
8. Nicola Bombacci, «I contadini nell’Italia di Mussolini», Roma, 1943, pp. 34 e ss.
9. Mais de 50 mil fascistas serão executados por estes grupos terroristas durante estes dois anos, e mais 50 mil na trágica Primavera-Verão de 1945. Foram especialmente visados os dirigentes fascistas que possuíssem uma certa aura de popularidade e que pudessem encarnar uma face mais populista do fascismo. O caso mais chamativo foi o do filósofo Giovanni Gentile, que deu lugar inclusivamente a protestos no seio da resistência antifascista. Existe uma ampla bibliografia sobre o assunto, embora na actualidade se tente reduzir as cifras e o impacto desta sangrenta guerra civil.
10. É curioso comprovar como em vários países da Europa, com o aproximar do final da guerra, os únicos elementos fieis à nova ordem são as chamadas alas “proletárias” dos movimentos nacional-revolucionários e que se negoceie a entrega do poder aos grupos socialistas da resistência por oposição aos comunistas e aos burgueses. Assim sucederá na Noruega onde os sectores sindicais propõe um governo de coligação à resistência social-democrata em Abril de 1945, ou em França onde após a queda do governo de Petain no Outono de 1944 Marcel Deat e Jacques Doriot pugnam por instaurar um governo socialista.
11. «La vida con mi padre», Madrid, Ediciones Cid, 1958, p. 267.
00:05 Publié dans Biographie, Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, italie, fascisme, communisme, années 20, années 30, années 40, deuxième guerre mondiale, seconde guerre mondiale, politique, théorie politique, sciences politiques, politologie | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 24 avril 2011
Léon Daudet, sa vie, son oeuvre et ses astralités
Léon Daudet (1867-1942), sa vie, son oeuvre et ses astralités
par Daniel Cologne
Ex: http://geminilitteraire.wordpress.com/
Dans la riche banlieue Est de Bruxelles, à l’angle des avenues de l’Yser et de Tervueren, on découvre aujourd’hui un immeuble moderne abritant, entre autres locataires, une chemiserie de luxe et une agence bancaire. Là s’élevait jadis l’hôtel particulier de la marquise de Radigues, où Léon Daudet séjourna durant son exil belge de vingt-neuf mois (1927 – 1929). L’entrée du Parc du Cinquantenaire est à quelques mètres et, sur une photographie reproduite dans le livre de Francis Bergeron en page 122, à l’arrière-plan de Léon Daudet et de son fils Philippe, on aperçoit les arcades édifiées à l’initiative du roi-bâtisseur Léopold II pour les cinquante ans de la Belgique en 1880. Au sommet de cet arc de triomphe, Le char de Phébus est emporté par des chevaux qui galopent vers Le Soleil Levant.
Léon Daudet arrive en Belgique après s’être évadé de la prison de la Santé, où il purgeait une peine de cinq mois pour diffamation. Il est toujours marqué par le suicide de son fils Philippe en 1923. Il soupçonnait un assassinat politique maquillé en suicide, mais Francis Bergeron pense que l’adolescent fugueur et épileptique a vraiment mis fin à ses jours. Publié en annexe par Marin de Charette, l’horoscope de Philippe Daudet né à Paris, Le 7 janvier 1909 à 4 h 00, semble confirmer la thèse de l’auteur.
En dépit de ce deuil encore récent et de cette blessure non cicatrisée, Léon Daudet déborde d’activité à Bruxelles : conférences, réceptions, rédaction d’une vingtaine de volumes. C’est le rythme de travail habituel de Daudet : une « déferlante effroyable » (p. 43) au détriment de la qualité, du moins en ce qui concerne l’œuvre romanesque. En revanche, le critique littéraire et artistique mérite de passer à la postérité avec ses surprenants éloges de Proust, Gide, Kessel et Picasso. « La patrie [ou la France, selon les versions], je lui dis merde quand il s’agit de littérature » (p. 90). Ainsi parlait celui qu’Éric Vatré qualifie judicieusement de « libre réactionnaire » (cité p. 116).
Léon Daudet naît à Paris Le 16 novembre 1867 à 23 h 00. Il est le fils d’Alphonse Daudet (1840 – 1897). Moins prolixe que son père dans la veine provençale héritée du Félibrige (Fièvres de Camargue, roman publié en 1938), il en partage jusqu’en 1900 les convictions politiques de républicain antisémite.
D’Alphonse Daudet, Francis Bergeron écrit : « Il déjeune chez Zola et dîne chez Drumont » (p. 45). Le moindre mérite de son livre n’est certes pas de rappeler que l’origine de l’antisémitisme se situe à gauche.
Entre autres influences, celle de sa cousine Marthe Allard, qui devient sa seconde épouse, et « dont les idées catholiques et monarchistes sont bien arrêtées » (p. 48), fait basculer Léon Daudet dans l’orbite de l’Action française.
Au lendemain de la Première Guerre mondiale, Léon Daudet est élu député d’une « Chambre bleu-horizon ». Il joue un rôle important dans la décision de la France d’occuper la Ruhr. Farouche adversaire d’Aristide Briand, Léon Daudet est apprécié par André Tardieu qui, devenu président du Conseil en 1929, lui accorde sa grâce. Après deux ans et demi de bannissement, Léon Daudet rentre à Paris non sans avoir une ultime réception dans son hôtel bruxellois, le 30 décembre.
« Léon fut un redoutable polygraphe » (p. 109). À ses cent vingt-sept œuvres (romans, essais, pamphlets, recueils d’articles), il faut ajouter plus de quarante préfaces et contributions à des ouvrages collectifs. Parmi les livres qui emportent l’enthousiaste préférence de Francis Bergeron, citons : Paris vécu (deux tomes paradoxalement écrits à Bruxelles), l’incontournable Stupide XIXe siècle (1922), La vie orageuse de Clémenceau (1938), car Léon Daudet vénérait Le « Tigre », Panorama de la IIIe République (1936), Charles Maurras et son temps (1928), les romans historiques de 1896 et 1933 mettant en scène les personnages de Shakespeare et Rabelais.
Le 1er juillet 1942, Léon Daudet s’éteint à Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, dans cette région inspiratrice de son père, dans ce Midi dont on a chanté les marchés (Gilbert Bécaud), les fifres et les tambourins (Robert Ripa), Le « mistral qui décoiffe les marchandes, jouant au Tout-Puissant » (Mireille Mathieu).
Léon Daudet meurt là où naquit Nostradamus. Le point commun de « l’enfant terrible de la IIIe République » (Louis Guitard, cité p. 114) et du faux prophète du XVIe siècle est Le cursus universitaire médical, inachevé chez l’un, accompli chez l’autre.
Dans notre famille de pensée, l’on demeure volontiers sceptique, voire méfiant, envers l’astrologie. D’autant plus nécessaires sont les études qui terminent tous les ouvrages de la collection « Qui suis-je ? ». Marin de Charette interprète l’horoscope de Léon Daudet (pages 123 à 126).
Son analyse est convaincante. De Léon Daudet, l’astrologue écrit : « Dans son ciel de naissance, aucune planète n’est faible : elles sont toutes puissamment reliées entre elles » (p. 125). Sur le plan personnel, le trigone Lune – Mercure (angle de 120 °) incline à la sur-activité littéraire et à la toute particulière prédisposition à la critique. Le romancier « solaire » produit, le critique « lunaire » reproduit, à l’instar du luminaire nocturne qui reproduit la lumière du Soleil en la reflétant.
« Né, en outre, au moment d’un carré exact et croissant d’Uranus à Neptune (dont l’axe mitoyen passe par Saturne !) – aspect générationnel -, Daudet incarne comme une sorte de déchirement entre l’ancien et le nouveau, et, aussi, un pont » (p. 126).
Mis en perspective dans les statistiques de Michel Gauquelin, cet horoscope se caractérise par l’occupation des quatre « zones d’intensité maximale » : la Lune vient de se lever, Jupiter se couche, Pluton culmine et cinq planètes sont amassées au nadir. Parmi cette quintuple conjonction, relevons le couple Soleil – Saturne (deux degrés d’orbe). Saturne « ensoleillé » indique la quête du Vrai sachant s’affranchir des a priori (le « libre réactionnaire »). mais Saturne « brûlé » (« combuste », disent les astrologues traditionalistes), peut expliquer « l’extrême violence de ton avec laquelle il a toujours défendu ses idées, ses convictions, ses goûts » (p. 94).
Cela ne fait pas pour autant de Léon Daudet un « extrémiste ». Même les actuels et pernicieux censeurs de la plus sournoise des polices de la pensée ne s’y trompent pas et lui laissent le bénéfice d’une « relative indulgence ».
Note
• Francis Bergeron, Léon Daudet, Éditions Pardès, coll. «Qui suis-je ?», 2007, 128 p
00:05 Publié dans Biographie, Histoire, Littérature, Politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : léon daudet, histoire, littérature, france, années 20, années 30, littérature française, lettres, lettres françaises, action française | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
vendredi, 01 avril 2011
La Bandera Irlandesa del Tercio - 1936-1937
La Bandera Irlandesa del Tercio, 1936-1937
por José Luis de Mesa, 1999
Autor de, entre otras obras, Los otros internacionales. Voluntarios extranjeros desconocidos en el Bando Nacional durante la Guerra Civil (1936-39), Barbarroja, Madrid, 1998.
Antecedentes
La sublevación del 17 de julio de 1936 y los acontecimiento que se producen en nuestro país en los meses siguientes sobre todo en la zona denominada republicana y que muchas veces se concretan en la persecución y muerte de sacerdotes, monjas y fieles católicos por el simple hecho de serlo y en la destrucción de iglesias e imágenes tienen honda repercusión entre los habitantes de un pequeño país europeo, que había alcanzado hacía poco su independencia y que se encontraba unido al nuestro por relaciones multiseculares. Me refiero al Estado Libre de Irlanda.
La población irlandesa, en su gran mayoría católica se conmociona a medida que se va enterando de lo que sucede en España y se vuelca en ayudas destinadas al ejército que para ellos defiende la fe y la religión católicas. Así, el 22 de agosto la prensa da la noticia de que “Los Camisas Verdes de Irlanda han enviado la primera expedición de elementos de la Cruz Roja para España. Forman la expedición médicos, enfermeras y abundante material sanitario” [1] y para el 24 de octubre se recibe en el bando nacional el dinero obtenido en una colecta llevada a cabo en la isla en favor de la Iglesia Católica de España, que recauda un millón y medio de pesetas de la época y que enviada al cardenal Gomá, destinó éste a la compra de material sanitario para el Ejército Nacional.
Mientras tanto en la isla un político que a la vez había sido general, Eoin O’Duffy, aprovechando que lidera un partido político de cierta importancia de corte neofascista, y de que goza de prestigio entre sus conciudadanos también por haber sido jefe de la Policía primero y más tarde de la Guardia Nacional irlandesas, concibe el proyecto de ayudar también con hombres a los nacionales y para ello se dirige a nuestro país, al que llega el 26 de septiembre de 1936 y tras entrevistarse en Pamplona con la Junta de Guerra Carlista y con la Diputación Foral, al día siguiente marcha a Burgos donde se entrevista con el general Mola sin llegar a alcanzar resultado práctico alguno. [2] Incluso antes de venir a España O’Duffy había dirigido una circular a sus partidarios, distribuida antes del 16 de septiembre entre los mismos, en la que se decía a los que se habían ofrecido para luchar en nuestro país que estuviesen preparados para ello. [3]
Pese a su inicial fracaso y mientras prosigue en su país la actividad reclutadora de voluntarios, el irlandés vuelve al nuestro y tras varias entrevistas con Franco, ambos generales el 28 de noviembre llegan a un acuerdo mediante el cual se formarían varias banderas del Tercio con voluntarios irlandeses, [4] las cuales podrían alcanzar el número de ocho con un total de 5.000 hombres. Contarían con su propio personal médico, enfermeras, capellanes y cocineros. Los mandos serían hispano-irlandeses, si bien en cada bandera para encuadrar a los voluntarios habría oficiales, suboficiales, cabos y soldados españoles que hablasen inglés.
En el acuerdo se hace especial hincapié en el hecho de que los irlandeses son católicos fervientes y practicantes que no serían empleados contra los nacionalistas vascos por ser éstos también católicos. Incluso se llega a plantear que el número de voluntarios fuese tan elevado que se pudiese constituir una columna con predominio irlandés que sería mandada por un jefe de dicha nacionalidad: y se apuntala posibilidad de que O´Duffy pudiese traer varios miles de voluntarios irlandeses. Finalmente las banderas dependerían del coronel inspector del Tercio si bien al general irlandés se le reconoce una inspección especial con el grado de general de brigada.
Concluido el acuerdo la Inspección del Tercio planifica el organigrama de la bandera que se compondría de un comandante-jefe, 10 capitanes, 7 tenientes, 14 alféreces, un médico, 53 sargentos, un maestro-armero, 2 cabos y 590 voluntarios. De ellos, 2 capitanes, 2 tenientes, 6 alféreces, 7 sargentos, un maestro-armero, 2 cabos y 3 legionarios serían españoles o procedentes del Ejército Nacional pues en el existían extranjeros que podían ser destinados a aquella por su origen o dominio del inglés.
Las expediciones
Los irlandeses empezaron a salir hacia España en pequeños grupos a partir del 13 de noviembre, antes de que se formalizasen los acuerdos pues O´Duffy quiso obligar a los mandos nacionales a aceptar sus propuestas valiéndose de hechos consumados. En la primera de ellas, que salió del puerto inglés de Liverpool, parten diez voluntarios, en su mayor parte antiguos oficiales del I.R.A (Ejército Republicano Irlandés) que constituirán los cuadros de mando de la unidad. A la semana siguiente sale la segunda expedición a cuyo frente figura el coronel Patrick Dalton, que fue el primero en mandar la bandera irlandesa en nuestro país y con él parten doce oficiales, el oficial médico Peter O´Higgins y el capellán S. Gillan. El viaje se realiza en barco hasta Lisboa, después en autobús hasta Badajoz para terminar en Cáceres, que serviría de base para formar la unidad.
El 27 de noviembre parte la tercera expedición desde Liverpool con 84 voluntarios entre los que figuraban al menos tres oficiales, el capellán-capitán Seamus Mulream; cuando llegaron a la capital extremeña a principios de diciembre el número total de irlandeses que había en ella asciende a 21 oficiales y 123 soldados, [5] número que no se corresponde con los fragmentariamente citados basados en los números facilitados por O´Duffy en su libro y que ascendían a 109 hombres en total, por lo que hay un exceso de 35 que podrían haber llegado en alguna otra expedición no computada o ser irlandeses que ya luchaban en unidades españolas con anterioridad y que fuesen remitidos a Cáceres para encuadrar como veteranos a sus compatriotas lo cual no sería de extrañar pues voluntarios de Eire había desde el principio de la guerra en unidades como la Columna Sagardía en la divisoria de Burgos y Santander, o en la que en principio se denominó Tercio Sanjurjo en tierras aragonesas o en unidades del Requeté como el capitán O’Farrill.
La última expedición, esta vez multitudinaria, salió del puerto irlandés de Galway en un buque alemán, que según la documentación oficial transportó un oficial y 520 voluntarios, aunque autores como el inglés Peter Kemp aumentan, su número a 650. [6] El viaje, con independencia del número exacto de voluntarios, no fue nada cómodo ni agradable para los voluntarios ya que el barco carecía de elementos como agua y los hombres viajaron hacinados y casi sin recibir alimentación. Al llegar a El Ferrol se les desembarcó trasladó a Cáceres en tren, previa parada en Salamanca, pero el viaje tampoco fue satisfactorio y se produjeron leves incidentes con cierto carácter cómico pero que presagiaron que la aventura de los irlandeses en España no iba a terminar con felicidad. El hecho de que este último transporte se hubiese llevado a efecto en un buque alemán provocó las protestas del gobierno irlandés, opuesto políticamente a O´Duffy, porque se había admitido a un gran número de jóvenes irlandeses que eran menores de edad, que carecían de pasaporte y porque en los barcos alemanes que entraban en puertos irlandeses y que luego se dirigían a España se admitía a los irlandeses que querían dirigirse a nuestro país sin permiso de su gobierno.
Consecuencia de todo ello fue que ya no hubo más expediciones masivas de irlandeses hacia España que partiesen de puertos de su país, en las que por cierto colaboraban las embajadas alemana e italiana en Dublín captando voluntarios. Así, el 11 de enero de 1937 fracasó el envío de un nuevo contingente de voluntarios a nuestro país porque el barco que debía transportarlos no apareció en el puerto designado para el embarque y los que se presentaron en él con el fin de embarcar tuvieron que volver a sus casas y el gobierno irlandés, ayudado por el inglés tomó medidas para que ya no se enviasen más voluntarios masivamente.
La bandera
Reunidos en Cáceres todos los irlandeses se procedió a iniciar su instrucción y como muchos habían sido antiguos combatientes en la I Guerra Mundial o en la guerra de independencia de Irlanda, el coronel Yagüe, inspector del Tercio, el de enero comunicaba a Franco que para el día 10 podrían ser utilizados en campo abierto, opinión que no era compartida por O’Duffy, quien se dirigió al Cuartel General del Generalísimo diciendo que la mayoría de sus voluntarios solo llevaba una semana de instrucción, habiéndoseles entregado los fusiles el 30 del mes anterior, sin que hubiesen recibido granadas de mano ni se les hubiese instruido en el manejo de las ametralladoras y morteros asignados a la bandera.
Para contribuir al entrenamiento de la unidad se envió a una serie de oficiales y suboficiales españoles que hablaban correctamente el inglés, provenientes del Tercio la mayor parte y entre los que figuraban dos tenientes ingleses que combatían en sus filas desde el mes de agosto del año anterior: Noel Fitzpatrick y William Neagle, pero el número total no sobrepasó el de doce. A ellos se unieron una serie de intérpretes británicos o irlandeses que residían en España o españoles descendientes de matrimonios mixtos hispano-británicos, a los que se otorgó el grado de sargentos mientras estuviesen adscritos a la unidad, su número fue de 14 ó 15.
La bandera la constituyen tres compañías de fusiles y una de ametralladoras y su mando se da a los siguientes oficiales irlandeses: el de la bandera al ya citado Dalton con el grado de comandante (se rebajaron los grados que los irlandeses decían ostentar en su país), la Compañía A (se siguió la tradición anglosajona de darles letras y no número como se hacía en España) al capitán D. O´Sullivan, la B al capitán T. F. Smith, la C al del mismo empleo P. Quinon y finalmente la de Ametralladoras al también capitán S. Cunningham.
Al llegar a España los voluntarios lucían camisas verdes con el arpa irlandesa al cuello, uniforme que luego fue cambiado por el del Tercio si bien en las camisas siguieron ostentando el arpa. La primera bandera de la que dispusieron fue una verde esmeralda con una cruz roja, en el centro que a su alrededor lucía el lema In Hoc Signo Vinces, pero durante el periodo de instrucción y para lo sucesivo fue cambiada por otra también con fondo verde en la que aparecía un perro-lobo irlandés. Cada compañía fue provista de un banderín que representaba a las provincias irlandesas irredentas. [7]
Durante el periodo de instrucción los irlandeses, dado su carácter, protagonizaron varios incidentes serios pues con frecuencia, en sus horas libres, reñían con españoles y marroquíes y se produjeron casos de deserciones o detenciones, como, la de tres ingleses incorporados a la bandera, en la que hubo un cierto número de ellos a los que se acusó de espionaje, si bien luego se demostró que dicha acusación no era cierta. El incidente se resolvió expulsando a Gibraltar a los tres. Otro problema que se presentó y que tuvo mucha repercusión en la eficacia combativa de la unidad fue la falta de oficiales y suboficiales irlandeses capacitados para el mando de la tropa, pues O´Duffy había rechazado a muchos irlandeses y británicos experimentados que se la habían ofrecido por no militar en su Partido Nacional Corporativo y concedió grados militares a quienes le eran devotos políticamente pero que estaban en ayunas en cuestiones de milicia, sin que por ello los instructores españoles pudiesen realizar grandes avances en este sentido pues en la unidad no ejercían funciones de mando. Terminado el periodo de instrucción, el 6 de febrero, la bandera fue revistada por Franco y tras unos días de descanso, el 15 del mismo mes se dio por finalizada la estancia en retaguardia de los voluntarios irlandeses.
En el frente
Al día siguiente parten hacia él en tren los componentes de la bandera: el comandante, 25 oficiales, 45 sargentos, dos maestros-armeros y 570 hombres de tropa, pero el viaje se hace interminable ya que tardan 26 horas en hacer un trayecto en el que normalmente se invertían seis. Cuando tras pasar Navalmoral de la Mata, que acababa de ser bombardeada por la aviación enemiga, llegan a Torrejón, desembarcan y andando se dirigen a Valdemoro que dista doce kilómetros, empleando en hacer el recorrido dos horas. Descansan y comen en dicha población y se dirigen hacia Ciempozuelos, pero durante el trayecto se produce otro hecho que marcará indeleblemente a los irlandeses.
Se observa que frente a ellos marcha una tropa española, que los oficiales españoles adscritos a los irlandeses identifican como nacional, pero cuando se dan a conocer como Bandera Irlandesa del Tercio los que están enfrente empiezan a disparar O´Sullivan, que manda la vanguardia, ordena a su vez hacer fuego y cuando al cabo de cinco minutos cesa el mismo y tras la retirada de la tropa que les ha atacado en el suelo, muertos, están los cuerpos del teniente Bonet y del sargento Calvo, españoles y de los irlandeses teniente Hyde y legionario Chute. También herido el voluntario Hoey. Cuando se despeja la situación se llega a la conclusión de que la unidad que les ha atacado es una bandera de la Falange canaria que al oírles hablar en inglés (eran escasos los irlandeses que hablaban nuestro idioma) se creyeron víctimas de una trampa y empezaron a disparar. Por su parte los canarios sufrieron la pérdida de su comandante y del segundo jefe de la unidad. O’Duffy, en su libro culpa del hecho a los canarios y dice que el mando nacional felicitó a su unidad, pero fuentes nacionales, Peter Kemp entre ellos, dicen que la culpa fue de los irlandeses y sobre todo de O´Sullivan que no era militar profesional, y que se puso nervioso y sin más, a los primeros disparos de advertencia ordenó a los suyos responder de igual forma en vez de esperar a que la situación se arreglase incruentamente.
Solventado el incidente, la bandera se acantona en Ciempozuelos, donde se ve sometida al fuego enemigo lo que le causa algunas bajas de momento no mortales. Se dedica a reforzar a las fuerzas del sector e incluso llega a prestar servicios de protección a una sección de ingenieros alemanes. Pero su permanencia en las trincheras, debido al estado de las mismas y las continuas lluvias que padecen hacen que más de cien irlandeses contraigan diversas enfermedades, por lo que tienen que ser evacuados a los hospitales de retaguardia. Entre los enfermos se encuentra el mayor (como le designaban sus subordinados que no empleaban el equivalente español de comandante) Dalton, que entrega el mando a O´Sullivan, que asciende al grado superior. A su vez Quinon es nombrado segundo comandante de la bandera y Fitzpatrick pasa a mandar la unidad del nuevo jefe de los irlandeses.
Hasta el 13 de marzo no entra en combate, el cual según el Diario de Operaciones de la Columna Asensio es ”una demostración ofensiva sobre Titulcia". [8] Para O´Duffy se trata de un verdadero combate mientras que para otro voluntario irlandés Seamus McKee sólo se trató de un ataque contra posiciones enemigas que se convirtió finalmente en una desbandada. Sea cual fuese la verdad y el desarrollo de la acción, como consecuencia de la misma mueren el sargento Lawlor y otros cuatro legionarios que son evacuados primero a Grijón y luego a Cáceres donde se encuentran los servicios médicos de la bandera encabezados por el coronel McCabe, el doctor Connor Martin y las enfermeras McGorisk y Mulvaney. En la citada ciudad se encontraba también la unidad de depósito mandada por el capitán Patrick Hughes a la que se habían incorporado algunos irlandeses llegados a España por sus propios medios después de la partida hacia el frente de la bandera. Los muertos fueron enterrados en el cementerio cacereño. De Ciempozuelos los irlandeses pasaron a La Marañosa, donde no intervienen en combates pero pierden algunos hombres por heridas accidentales y donde tiene lugar algunos incidentes que preludian la disolución de la unidad.
El desenlace
Mientras la Bandera Irlandesa se encuentra en el frente se presentan una serie de problemas que hacen que finalmente se llegue al acuerdo de disolver la unidad. En ella había más de 100 voluntarios menores de 21 años cuya repatriación pidió el gobierno irlandés parece ser que presionado por el británico, a lo que accedió el de Burgos para evitar incidentes diplomáticos. Se presentan quejas contra O´Duffy por haber instaurado la censura en la correspondencia, pero lo más grave era la indisciplina que reinaba entre los irlandeses. Estos se emborrachaban con frecuencia, se agredían entre ellos e incluso llegaron a hacerlo tanto con sus oficiales como con los españoles agregados a la bandera para intentar cohesionarla y convertirla en una unidad eficaz y combativa. Incluso los propios oficiales irlandeses llegaron a las manos entre ellos y para rematar la sucesión de hechos una noche un oficial irlandés no identificado llegó disparar contra dos oficiales españoles. [9]
Por ello Yagüe, el 28 de marzo de 1937 solicita la disolución en base a la indisciplina reinante en la unidad por la falta de mandos profesionales irlandeses, por la mala alimentación que se proporcionaba a los irlandeses por su propia intendencia y porque su eficacia militar era nula. Ahora bien, proponía que los voluntarios que quisieran permanecer en España fuesen repartidos entre las diversas banderas del Tercio y que los qué no quisieran seguir en nuestro país fuesen repatriados al suyo. O´Duffy se opone a ello y echa las culpas de lo ocurrido a los oficiales españoles, a algunos irlandeses y sobre todo a los de origen inglés. El 12 de abril, tras un incidente entre O´Sullivan y el alférez español Silva, Yagüe destituye a aquel del mando y le envía a Cáceres. Franco autoriza la disolución de la bandera permitiendo la permanencia en España de los oficiales y suboficiales irlandeses profesionales que quisieran quedarse respetándoles el rango militar que ostentasen. También podían quedarse los voluntarios que lo solicitasen con los que se formaría una unidad irlandesa si su número lo permitía la cual sería suplementada con legionarios españoles y puesta al mando de un oficial español. Incluso se permitiría la permanencia de un médico y de un capellán irlandeses si el número de los que se quedasen era alto.
Las compañías van siendo conducidas a Cáceres donde votan si se quedan en España o vuelven a su país. Según O’Duffy 654 hombres decidieron volver a Irlanda y solo nueve pidieron, permanecer en España, si bien al final su número se elevó a trece, pero muy pronto por unos u otros motivos cinco de ellos volvieron a su país o a lnglaterra según su origen. [10] Los que se quedaron fueron los capitanes O´Farrill y Gunning, los tenientes Fitzpatrick y Neagle, el alférez Lawler, tres sargentos, un cabo y cuatro legionarios, pero para final de 1937 no permanecen en España ninguno de los oficiales mencionados y al menos uno de los sargentos, Michael Weymes, había muerto en combate.
El capitán de estado mayor González Caminero es nombrado organizador de la repatriación que cuenta con el apoyo del gobierno británico que les concede pasaportes mientras que el nacional les proporciona vestido y calzado civiles. El 12 de junio salen de Cáceres para Lisboa quince oficiales y 632 suboficiales y soldados irlandeses que embarcan en el buque portugués Mozambique que el 22 de junio los desembarcó en el puerto de Dublín donde fueron recibidos en triunfo con bandas de música que les acompañaron hasta el Ayuntamiento donde se les dirigieron discursos en los que se les calificó de “defensores de la fe" y “combatientes por la gloria de Dios y el honor de Irlanda". [11]
Pero en España aún permanecía un grupo de heridos y enfermos que de momento no pudieron repatriarse. Cuando recibieron el alta médica eran cuatro que tras algunas dificultades puestas por el cónsul británico en Lisboa, volvieron a su país donde por causa de las enfermedades contraídas en España en fechas posteriores, murieron otros tres o cuatro voluntarios irlandeses con lo que el número de bajas mortales de irlandeses pertenecientes a la unidad reclutada por O´Duffy alcanzó la cifra de ocho, con independencia de los que habiendo formando parte de la unidad se quedaron en nuestro país y murieron con posterioridad.
Notas
1. Diario Región, Oviedo.
2. Jaime del Burgo, Conspiración y Guerra Civil, pp. 249-250.
3. The Morning Post, 17 de septiembre de 1936.
4. Servicio Histórico Militar (SHM), Armario 2, Legajo 156, Carpeta 14, Documento 23.
5. Eoin O´Duffy, Crusade in Spain, pp. 96 y ss.
6. Peter Kemp, Legionario en España, pp. 96 y ss.
7. E. O´Duffy, op. cit., p. 108.
8. SHM, A. 10, L. 452, Cpt. 4.
9. SHM, A. 2, L. 156, Cpt. 24, Dt. 32
10. E. O´Duffy, op. cit., p. 236
11. E. O´Duffy, op. cit., pp. 236 y ss.
Más información
por Carlos A. Pérez
Según datos recogidos en el Archivo de la Guerra Civil Española del Archivo General Militar de Ávila*, esta bandera irlandesa fue, mientras duró, la 15ª Bandera de la Legión y su repatriación se decidió el 13 de abril de 1937 como consecuencia de los desfavorables informes elaborados por los mandos del Ejército Nacional acerca del estado de la misma. En los mismos se recogía la gran indisciplina existente, con unos mandos no profesionales incapaces de imponer su autoridad sobre una tropa, en muchas ocasiones borracha. En concreto, se cita un caso de agresión a un oficial por parte de otro oficial y un soldado. La comida y el vestuario tampoco eran los adecuados. Todo esto se tradujo en un mal comportamiento en las escasas operaciones militares en que participaron. La decisión del Parlamento irlandés de no permitir la recluta de más voluntarios condenaba, a la larga, a la bandera irlandesa. En el momento de su marcha, se ofreció a los voluntarios que lo deseasen permanecer en la Legión encuadrados en compañías irlandesas.
* Los documentos en Cuartel General del Generalísimo (CGG), Armario 2, Legajo 156, Carpetas 19-27 "Banderas Irlandesas".
Bibliografía:
Para estos voluntarios irlandeses véase:
- Eoin O´Duffy: Crusade in Spain. Robert Hale, Londres, 1938.
- Francis McCullagh: In Franco´s Spain. Burns, Oates and Washbourne, Londres, 1987.
- M. Manning: The Blueshirts. Gill and Macmillan, Dublín, 1987.
- Robert A. Stradling: The Irish and the Spanish Civil War. Manchester University Press, 1999.
- J. Bowyer Bell: "Ireland and the Spanish Civil War", Studia Hibernia, vol. 9, 1969.
Enlace recomendado:
O´Duffy´s Bandera en Ireland and the Spanish Civil War
00:09 Publié dans Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, irlande, espagne, guerre civile espagnole, guerre d'espagne, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mercredi, 30 mars 2011
Années 20 et 30: la droite de l'établissement francophone en Belgique, la littérature flamande et le "nationalisme de complémentarité"
Robert STEUCKERS :
Années 20 et 30 : la droite de l’établissement francophone en Belgique, la littérature flamande et le « nationalisme de complémentarité »
Le blocage politique actuel des institutions fédérales belges est l’aboutissement ultime d’une mécompréhension profonde entre les deux communautés linguistiques. En écrivant cela, nous avons bien conscience d’énoncer un lieu commun. Pourtant les lieux communs, jugés inintéressants parce que répétés à satiété, ont des racines comme tout autre phénomène social ou politique. Dans la Belgique du 19ème siècle et de la première moitié du 20ème, l’établissement se veut « sérieux » donc branché sur la langue française, perçue comme un excellent véhicule d’universalité et comme un bon instrument pour sortir de tout enlisement dans le vernaculaire, qui risquerait de rendre la Belgique « incompréhensible » au-delà de ses propres frontières exigües. Certes, les grands ténors de la littérature francophone belge de la fin du 19ème siècle, comme Charles De Coster et Camille Lemonnier, avaient plaidé pour l’inclusion d’éléments « raciques » dans la littérature romane de Belgique : De Coster « médiévalisait » et germanisait à dessein la langue romane de son « Tijl Uilenspiegel » et Lemonnier entendait peindre une réalité sociale avec l’acuité plastique de la peinture flamande (comme aussi, de son côté, Eugène Demolder) et truffait ses romans de mots et de tournures issus des parlers wallons ou borains pour se démarquer du parisianisme, au même titre que les Félibriges provençaux qui, eux, réhabilitaient l’héritage linguistique occitan. Ces concessions au vernaculaire seront le propre d’une époque révolue : celle d’une Belgique d’avant 1914, finalement plus tournée vers l’Allemagne que vers la France. La défaite de Guillaume II en 1918 implique tout à la fois une alliance militaire franco-belge, une imitation des modèles littéraires parisiens, l’expurgation de toute trace de vernaculaire (donc de wallon et de flamand) et une subordination de la littérature néerlandaise de Flandre à des canons « classiques », inspirés du Grand Siècle français (le 17ème) et détachés de tous les filons romantiques ou pseudo-romantiques d’inspiration plus germanique.
Le théoricien et l’historien le plus avisé du « style classique » sera Adrien de Meeüs, auteur d’un livre remarquablement bien écrit sur la question : « Le coup de force de 1660 » (Nouvelles Société d’éditions, Bruxelles, 1935). Cet ouvrage est un survol de la littérature française depuis 1660, année où, sous l’impulsion de Louis XIV, le pouvoir royal capétien décide de soutenir la littérature, le théâtre et la poésie et de lui conférer un style inégalé, qu’on appelle à imiter. La droite littéraire de l’établissement francophone belge va adopter, comme image de marque, ce « classicisme » qu’Adrien de Meeüs théorisera en 1935. Par voie de conséquence, pour les classicistes, seule la langue française exprime sans détours ce style issu du « Grand Siècle » et de la Cour de Louis XIV. Mais que faire de la littérature flamande, qui puisse aussi à d’autres sources, quand on est tout à la fois « classiciste » et partisan de l’unité nationale ? On va tenter de sauver la Flandre de l’emprise des esprits qui ne sont pas « classiques ». Antoine Fobe (1903-1987) et Charles d’Ydewalle (1901-1985) vont fonder à Gand des revues comme « Les Ailes qui s’ouvrent » et « L’Envolée », afin de défendre un certain classicisme (moins accentué que celui que préconisera de Meeüs) et les valeurs morales catholiques contre les dadaïstes flamands, campés comme appartenant à un « école de loustics et de déséquilibrés ». Outre ces foucades contre une avant-garde, généralement « progressiste » sur le plan politique, les milieux francophones de Flandre, défenseurs de droite d’une unité belge de plus en plus contestée, ne s’intéressent en aucune façon à la production littéraire néerlandaise : comme si de hautes figures comme Herman Teirlinck ou le Hollandais « Multatuli » ne méritaient aucune attention. On évoque quelque fois une Flandre idéale ou pittoresque mais on ne lit jamais à fond les productions littéraires nouvelles de l’espace néerlandais, de haute gamme. La Flandre francophone et belgicaine pratique le « refoulement » de sa propre part flamande, écrit la philologue Cécile Vanderpelen-Diagre, dans une étude remarquable qui nous permet enfin de faire le tri dans une littérature catholique, de droite, francophone, qui a tenu en haleine nos compatriotes dans les années 20 et 30 mais a été « oubliée » depuis, vu les réflexes autoritaires, royalistes, nationalistes et parfois pré-rexistes ou carrément rexistes qu’elle recelait.
Or le contexte a rapidement changé après le Traité de Versailles, dont la Belgique sort largement dupée par les quatre grandes puissances (Etats-Unis, France, Grande-Bretagne, Italie), comme l’écrivait clairement Henri Davignon (photo ci-contre), dans son ouvrage « La première tourmente », consacré à ses activités diplomatiques en Angleterre pendant la première guerre mondiale. Après Versailles, nous avons Locarno (1925), qui éveille les espoirs d’une réconciliation généralisée en Europe. Ensuite, les accords militaires franco-belges sont de plus en plus contestés par les socialistes et les forces du mouvement flamand, puis, dans un deuxième temps, par le Roi et son état-major (qui critiquent l’immobilisme de la stratégie française marquée par Maginot) et, enfin, par les catholiques inquiets de la progression politique des gauches françaises. Tout cela suscite le désir de se redonner une originalité intellectuelle et littéraire marquée de « belgicismes », donc de « vernacularités » wallonne et flamande. L’univers littéraire de la droite catholique francophone va donc simultanément s’ouvrir, dès la fin des années 20, à la Flandre en tant que Flandre flamande et à la Wallonie dans toutes ses dimensions vernaculaires.
C’est Henri Davignon, l’homme installé come diplomate à Londres pendant la guerre de 1914-18, qui ouvrira la brèche : il est en effet le premier à vouloir faire glisser cette littérature francophone de Flandre et de Belgique d’un anti-flamandisme exaspéré au lendemain de la première guerre mondiale à une défense de toutes les identités collectives et régionales du royaume. Pour Davignon, que cite Cécile Vanderpelen-Diagre, il faut, en littérature, substituer au nationalisme unitaire —qui veut régenter les goûts au départ d’un seul éventail de critères esthétiques ou veut aligner les différences inhérentes aux régions du pays sur un et un seul modèle unificateur— un nationalisme fait de complémentarités (les complémentarités propres aux particularismes raciques « germanique/flamand » et « roman/wallon », qu’ils soient généraux ou locaux). Dans ce cas, pour Davignon, les particularismes raciques ne seraient plus centrifuges mais centripètes. « La vigueur de la nation ne procède pas de l’unification des idiomes, des coutumes et des tempéraments » ; au contraire, « cette vigueur se renouvelle au contact de leurs diversités », écrit Davignon tout en ajoutant ce qu’il faut bien considérer comme une restriction qui nous ramène finalement à la case de départ : « quand une haute tradition et une pensée constructive président à leur adoption ». Quelle est-elle cette « haute tradition » ? Et cette « pensée constructive » ? Il est clair que cette haute tradition, dans le chef de Davignon, n’existe que dans l’usage de la langue française et dans l’imitation de certains modèles français. Et que la « pensée constructive » correspond à tous les efforts visant à maintenir l’unité nationale/étatique belge. Cependant, en dépit du contexte belge des années 20 et 30 du 20ème siècle, Henri Davignon énonce une vérité littéraire, très générale, extensible à la planète entière : l’intérêt pour le vernaculaire, toujours pluriel au sein d’un cadre national, quel qu’il soit, que ce soit en Allemagne ou en France (avec les Félibriges qui fascinaient tant les Flamands que les Francophones), ne saurait être un but en soi. Mais les vérités universelles —qui se profilent derrière tout vernaculaire, se cachent en ses recoins, en ses plis, et le justifient pour la pérennité— ne sauraient exclusivement s’exprimer en une seule langue, a fortiori dans les zones d’intersection linguistique, et ne doivent jamais dépendre d’un projet politique somme toute rigide et toujours incapable d’assumer une diversité trop bigarrée. La « haute tradition » pourrait être finalement beaucoup de choses : un catholicisme audacieux (Barbey d’Aurevilly, Léon Bloy, Ernest Psichari, G. K. Chesterton, Carl Schmitt, Giovanni Papini, etc.), s’exprimant en français, en anglais, en allemand, en espagnol ou en italien ; une adhésion à la Tradition (Guénon, Evola, Coomaraswamy, Schuon, etc.) ; une « transcendement » volontaire du cadre national trop étroit dans un mythe bourguignon (le « Grand Héritage » selon Luc Hommel) ou impérial ou, plus simplement, dans un idéal européen (chez un Drion du Chapois, où il se concentre dans une vaste zone médiane, lotharingienne et danubienne, c’est-à-dire en Belgique, en Lorraine, en Rhénanie, en Suisse, dans le Bade-Wurtemberg, en Bavière et dans tout l’espace austro-hongrois, Italie du Nord comprise). Ces cadres, transcendant l’étroitesse d’une nation ressentie comme trop petite, permettent tout autant l’éclosion d’une « pensée constructive ».
Henri Davignon en reste là. C’était son point de vue, partagé par bien d’autres auteurs francophones restant en marge des événements littéraires néerlandais de Flandre ou des Pays-Bas.
L’aristocrate gantois Roger Kervyn de Marcke ten Driessche (né en 1896 - photo ci-contre) franchit un pas de plus dans ce glissement vers la reconnaissance de la diversité littéraire belge, issue de la diversité dialectale et linguistique du pays. Kervyn se veut « passeur » : l’élite belge, et donc son aristocratie, doit viser le bilinguisme parfait pour conserver son rôle dans la société à venir, souligne Cécile Vanderpelen-Diagre. Kervyn assume dès lors le rôle de « passeur » donc de traducteur ; il passera toutes les années 30 à traduire articles, essais et livres flamands pour la « Revue Belge » et pour les Editions Rex. On finit par considérer, dans la foulée de cette action individuelle d’un Gantois francophone, que le « monolinguisme est trahison ». Le terme est fort, bien sûr, mais, même si l’on fait abstraction du cadre étatique belge, avec ses institutions à l’époque très centralisées (le fédéralisme ne sera réalisé définitivement qu’au début des années 90 du 20ème siècle), peut-on saisir les dynamiques à l’œuvre dans l’espace entre Somme et Rhin, peut-on sonder les mentalités, en ne maniant qu’une et une seule panoplie d’outils linguistiques ? Non, bien évidemment. Néerlandais, français et allemand, avec toutes leurs variantes dialectales, s’avèrent nécessaires. Pour Cécile Vanderpelen-Diagre, le bel ouvrage de Charles d’Ydewalle, « Enfances en Flandre » (1935) ne décrit que les sentiments et les mœurs des francophones de Flandre, essentiellement de Bruges et de Gand. A ce titre, il ne participe pas du mouvement que Kervyn a voulu impulser. C’est exact. Et les humbles du menu peuple sont les grands absents du livre de d’Ydewalle, de même que les représentants de l’élite alternative qui se dressait dans les collèges catholiques et dans les cures rurales (Cyriel Verschaeve !). Il n’empêche qu’une bonne lecture d’ « Enfances en Flandre » de d’Ydewalle permettrait à des auteurs flamands, et surtout à des créateurs cinématographiques, de mieux camper bourgeois et francophones de Flandre dans leurs oeuvres. Ensuite, les notes de d’Ydewalle sur le passé de la terre flamande de César aux « Communiers », et sur le dialecte ouest-flamand qu’il défend avec chaleur, méritent amplement le détour.
La démarche de Roger Kervyn et les réflexions générales d’Henri Davignon, sur la variété linguistique de l’espace Somme/Rhin nous forcent à analyser œuvres et auteurs où le télescopage entre réflexes flamands et wallons, flamands et rhénans, ardennais et « Eifeler » sont bien présents : songeons aux poèmes de Maurice Gauchez sur la Flandre occidentale, à ceux du Condrusien Gaston Compère sur le littoral flamand, au culte de l’espace Ardenne/Eifel chez le Pierre Nothomb d’après-guerre, à l’ouverture progressive du germanophobe maurassien Norbert Wallez à l’esprit rhénan et à la synthèse austro-habsbourgeoise (via les « Cahiers bleus » de Maeterlinck ?), à la présence allemande ou de thèmes allemands/rhénans/mosellans dans certains romans de Gaston Compère, ou, plus récemment, à la fascination exercée par Gottfried Benn sur un ponte de la littérature belge actuelle, Pierre Mertens ? Ou, côté allemand, à l’influence exercée par certains Liégeois sur l’éclosion du Cercle de Stefan George ? Côté flamand, la porosité est plus nette : ni la France ni l’Allemagne ne sont absentes, a fortiori ni les Pays-Bas ni la Scandinavie ni les Iles Britanniques.
Pour cerner la diversité littéraire de nos lieux, sans vouloir la surplomber d’un quelconque corset étatique qui finirait toujours par paraître artificiel, il faut plaider pour l’avènement d’une littérature comparée, spécifique de notre éventail d’espaces d’intersection, pour la multiplication des « passeurs » à la Kervyn, au-delà des criailleries politiciennes, au-delà d’une crise qui perdure, au-delà des cadres étatiques ou sub-étatiques qui, esthétiquement, ne signifient rien. Car, empressons-nous de l’ajouter, cela ne reviendrait pas à fabriquer du « fusionnisme » stérile mais à se démarquer des universalismes planétaires et médiatiques qui pétrifient notre pensée, nous arrachent à notre réel et font de nous de véritables « chiens de Pavlov », condamnés à répéter des slogans préfabriqués ou à aboyer des vociférations vengeresses, dès qu’un de ces dogmes ou un autre se verrait écorner par le simple principe de réalité. La France fait pareil : tandis que les médias sont alignés sur tous les poncifs du « politiquement correct », que Bernard Henri Lévy organise la guerre contre Kadhafi, au-delà de la présidence et de l’état-major des armées, les rayons des librairies de province et des supermarchés des petites bourgades croulent sous le poids des romans régionalistes, vernaculaires, réels, présentent les anciennes chroniques régionales et villageoises éditées par l’excellent M.-G. Micberth. L’an passé, on trouvait jusqu’aux plus reculés des villages franc-comtois des histoires de cette province, où l’on exaltait son passé bourguignon, espagnol et impérial, ou encore une solide biographie de Nicolas Perrenot de Granvelle, serviteur insigne de l’Empereur Charles-Quint. Cette année, on trouve trois nouveaux ouvrages sur le parler régional, sur les termes spécifiques des métiers artisanaux, agricoles et sylvicoles de la province et un lexique copieux de vocables dialectaux. Récolte analogue en Lorraine et en Savoie. Un signe des temps…
Robert STEUCKERS.
(extrait d’un éventail de causeries sur les littérature et paralittérature belges, tenues au Mont-des-Cats, à Bruxelles, Liège, Douai, Genève, entre décembre 2007 et mars 2011).
Bibliographie :
Cécile VANDERPELEN-DIAGRE, Ecrire en Belgique sous le regard de Dieu, Ed. Complexe/CEGES, Bruxelles, 2004.
Cet ouvrage a été recensé et commenté à plusieurs reprises dans nos cercles. La recension définitive paraitra prochainement sur le site http://euro-synergies.hautetfort.com/
Seront également consultés lors de futurs séminaires :
Textyles, revue des lettres belges de langue française, n°24, 2004, « Une Europe en miniature ? », Dossier dirigé par Hans-Joachim Lope & Hubert Roland.
Die horen – Zeitschrift für Literatur, Kunst und Kritik, Nr. 150,1988, « Belgien : Ein Land auf der Suche nach sich selbst » - Texte & Zeichen aus drei Sprachregionen. Zusammengestellt von Heinz Schneeweiss.
00:05 Publié dans Belgicana, Littérature | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : belgique, littérature, lettres, lettres belges, littérature belge, belgicana, années 20, années 30, flandre, wallonie | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 27 février 2011
Eurofaschismus und bürgerliche Decadenz
|
Benedikt Kaiser: Eurofaschismus und bürgerliche Dekadenz
|
|
|
Europakonzeption und Gesellschaftskritik bei Pierre Drieu la Rochelle
Pierre Drieu la Rochelle (18931945) schied im März 1945 durch Freitod aus dem Leben. Fluchtofferten ins befreundete Ausland lehnte der französische Intellektuelle, der im Zweiten Weltkrieg mit der deutschen Besatzungsmacht kollaboriert hatte, kategorisch ab. Man muß Verantwortung auf sich nehmen, schrieb er kurz vor dem Suizid in seinem Geheimen Bericht. Drieu la Rochelle war nicht nur ein gefeierter Romancier von Weltrang, er galt auch seinen Zeitgenossen als Ausnahme-intellektueller. In seinen Romanen, besonders in Die Unzulänglichen, kritisierte Drieu die Dekadenz des von ihm so verachteten Bürgertums. Parallel zum Reifungsprozeß seiner Romanprotagonisten entwickelte sich auch Drieu zum Mann der Tat, der direkten Aktion... zum Faschisten. Die Kollaboration Drieus mit der deutschen Besatzungsmacht in Frankreich war keine Kapitulation vor dem Feinde, sondern vielmehr der Versuch, eine ideologische Front zu schmieden. Der wahre Feind sei nicht der boche, der Deutsche, sondern der bourgeois, der Bürger. Gegen die Dekadenz könne, so glaubte Drieu, nur gemeinsam vorgegangen werden: einzig ein im Faschismus geeintes Europa habe die Kraft, sich innerer Dekadenz und äußerer Feinde zu erwehren und genuin europäisch zu bleiben. Die vorliegende Studie erkennt in Drieu la Rochelle einen modernen Europäer, der den Nationalismus hinter sich gelassen hatte. Benedikt Kaiser bettet den französischen Intellektuellen und sein Werk in den historischen Kontext der diversen europäischen Faschismen ein. Im Anhang findet sich ein Auszug aus Drieu la Rochelles Geheimem Bericht, der sein politisches Testament darstellt und das Handeln des Denkers nicht entschuldigen will, sondern es in einem letzten Akt bekräftigt. Mit einem Vorwort von Günter Maschke!
Inhaltsübersicht:
Vorwort von Günter Maschke 1. Zum Anliegen der Arbeit 1.1 Fragestellung und Methodik 1.2 Forschungsstand und Quellenkritik 2. Pierre Drieu la Rochelle und die politische Theorienbildung 2.1 Politische Biographie 2.2 Ein früher Begleiter: der Lehrmeister Friedrich Nietzsche 2.3 Ideengeber Georges Sorels: décadence, Mythos, Gewalt 2.4 Charles Maurras und der integrale Nationalismus 3. Gesellschaftskritik im schriftstellerischen Werk Drieu la Rochelles 3.1 Der Frauenmann 3.2 Verträumte Bourgeoisie (Revêuse bourgeoisie) 3.3 Die Unzulänglichen (Gilles) 4. Drieus Position in der faschistischen Ideologie Frankreichs 4.1 Drieu la Rochelle und die Action Française 4.2 Verhältnis zum Partei-Faschismus: Der PPF und Jacques Doriot 5. Zwischen Engagement und Enthaltung: Drieu la Rochelle und die französischen Intellektuellen 5.1 Feindliche Brüder? Die antifaschistischen Schriftsteller 5.2 Versuchung Faschismus: Von Paul Marion bis Lucien Rebatet 5.3 Die Selbstwahrnehmung Drieu la Rochelles 6. Der faschistische Traum von Europa 6.1 Eurofaschismus? Begriffsklärung eines Phänomens 6.2 Eurofaschismus unter Waffen: Der Weg Léon Degrelles 6.3 Europe a Nation! Wesen und Wollen Sir Oswald Mosleys 6.4 Europakonzeption bei Pierre Drieu la Rochelle 7. Zusammenfassung 8. Appendix 9. Literaturverzeichnis 9.1 Sekundärliteratur 9.2 Quellen 10. Abkürzungen 11. Namens- und Sachregister
In der Reihe KIGS sind des weiteren erschienen:
|
00:05 Publié dans Histoire, Littérature, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, livre, littérature, littérature française, lettres, lettres françaises, france, drieu la rochelle, années 30, années 40, collaboration, seconde guerre mondiale, deuxième guerre mondiale, bourgeoisie, décadence | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 12 février 2011
Nazisme et révolution
À propos de Fabrice Bouthillon, Nazisme et Révolution. Histoire théologique du national-socialisme. 1789-1989 (Fayard, coll. Commentaire, 2011). «Que vienne à paraître un homme, ayant le naturel qu’il faut, et voilà que par lui, tout cela est secoué, mis en pièces : il s’échappe, il foule aux pieds nos formules, nos sorcelleries, nos incantations, et ces lois, qui, toutes sans exception, sont contraires à la nature. Notre esclave s’est insurgé, et s’est révélé maître.»
Platon, Gorgias, 483d-484a.
Ex: http://stalker.hautetfort.com/
Finalement, le lecteur pressé ou le journaliste n'auront pas besoin de lire de sa première à sa dernière page le curieux essai* de Fabrice Bouthillon puisque, dès la première ligne du livre, la thèse de l'auteur est condensée en une seule phrase : «Le nazisme a été la réponse de l’histoire allemande à la question que lui avait posée la révolution française» (p. 11). À proprement parler, cette thèse n'est pas franchement une nouveauté puisque Jacques Droz, dans L’Allemagne et la Révolution française, sur les brisées d'un Stern ou d'un Gooch, l'avait déjà illustrée en 1950, en montrant comment la Révolution française avait influencé quelques-uns des grands courants d'idées qui, comme le romantisme selon cet auteur, ont abouti à la déhiscence puis au triomphe du Troisième Reich.
La thèse de Bouthillon est, quoi qu'il en soit, fort simple, ses détracteurs diront simpliste (voire tout bonnement fausse) et ses thuriféraires, évidente sinon lumineuse : «À Paris en 1789, le contrat social européen se déchire, la Gauche et la Droite se définissent et se séparent. La béance qui en était résultée était demeurée ouverte depuis lors. Sur la fin du XIXe siècle, le conflit mondial qui commençait à se profiler semblait devoir l’approfondir encore» (p. 77).
Le constat est imparable, le travail de démonstration peut-être moins, sauf dans les tout derniers chapitres de l'ouvrage de Bouthillon, de loin les plus intéressants. Les coups contre la Gauche pleuvent ainsi dans l'ouvrage de Fabrice Bouthillon, qu'il s'agisse de critiques radicales, touchant ses plus profondes assises intellectuelles ou bien de rapprochements, assez faciles à faire il est vrai, entre celle-ci et le nazisme. Ainsi, s'appuyant sur une lecture contre-révolutionnaire de l'histoire, Fabrice Bouthillon peut écrire, fort justement, que : «L’idée, essentielle à la démarche de toute Gauche, d’un homme hors de tout contrat, d’un homme dans l’état de nature, est donc une pure contradiction dans les termes. La nature de l’homme, c’est la société; pour l’humanité, la nature, c’est la culture. Et voilà pourquoi la politique révolutionnaire cherche à s’élaborer sur un fondement qui doit forcément lui manquer : il n’est pas au pouvoir des hommes d’instituer l’humanité; la politique n’est pas quelque chose que l’homme pourrait constituer, mais qui le constitue. La fondation de la Cité, de la politique, de l’humanité, exigerait des forces supérieures aux forces humaines; or les révolutionnaires sont des hommes, en force de quoi, la tâche à laquelle ils s’obligent est donc vouée à l’échec» (p. 26).
C'est sur ce constat d'échec que, selon Bouthillon, le nazisme va fonder son éphémère empire, d'autant plus éphémère que, comme n'importe quel autre gouvernement n'ayant son origine que dans une sphère strictement temporelle ou séculière, il périra, qu'importe, nous le verrons, la facilité avec laquelle il tentera, au moment de s'effondrer, de récupérer les emblèmes et symboles du christianisme.
Concernant les rapprochements entre les emblèmes et les symboles de la Gauche et ceux du nazisme (1), nous pouvons lire ceci, lorsque Bouthillon analyse longuement et de manière fort convaincante la première proclamation publique du programme du parti nazi, faite le 24 février 1920 : «les hommes de Gauche présent à la Hofbräuhaus ont pu finir par brailler «Heil Hitler !» avec les autres, parce que Hitler leur a tenu des propos et leur a fait accomplir des gestes dans lesquels ils se retrouvaient. Par le nazisme, la Gauche n’a pas été seulement contrainte; elle a aussi été séduite» (p. 162) et, surtout, cette autre longue évocation de points communs entre les deux ennemis qui n'ont pas toujours été, loin s'en faut, irréductibles : «ce qui compte, pour comprendre ce qui se passe dans la salle archétypique [le 24 février 1920 : première proclamation publique du programme du parti nazi] où le récit de Mein Kampf transporte le lecteur, et comment la révélation du programme contribue à y créer peu à peu l’unité, c’est d’abord de se souvenir qu’il comprend vingt-cinq articles, ce qui permet de faire monter peu à peu la sauce de l’enthousiasme; et que, dans le lot, il y en a bien neuf qui relèvent incontestablement du patrimoine politique de la Gauche, ce qui permet à ceux des siens qui restent encore dans l’auditoire de s’y joindre progressivement. Point 7, l’État a le devoir de procurer aux citoyens des moyens d’existence : c’est le droit au travail, tel que revendiqué par la révolution de 1848. Point 9, tous les citoyens ont les mêmes droits et les mêmes devoirs : c’est l’égalité devant la loi, type 1789. Point 10, tout citoyen a le devoir de travailler, et le bien collectif doit primer sur l’intérêt individuel : c’est le noyau de tout socialisme. Point 11, suppression du revenu des oisifs, et de l’esclavage de l’intérêt : mais c’est du Besancenot, nos vies valent plus que leurs profits. Point 12, confiscation des bénéfices de guerre : à la bonne heure; point 13, nationalisation des trusts : quoi de mieux ? Point 14, hausse des retraites; point 17, réforme agraire – on en revenait aux Gracques – avec possibilité d’expropriation sans indemnité pour utilité publique; point 20, enfin, l’égalité de tous les enfants devant l’école, façon Ferry» (pp. 163-4).
Rappelant les analyse de Michel Dreyfus dans L’Antisémitisme à gauche (Éditions La Découverte, 2009), l'auteur ne craint pas d'enfoncer le clou lorsqu'il affirme qu'une autre partie du programme nazi n'a pas pu manquer de plaire à la Gauche, à savoir, son antisémitisme viscéral : «Mais il faut aller plus loin encore, et dire que ces points-là n’étaient pas les seuls du programme nazi qui, sous la République de Weimar, pouvaient susciter l’approbation d’un auditoire de Gauche. Cinq autres articles visaient les Juifs. Les points 5, 6, 7, les excluaient de la citoyenneté allemande, et donc aussi de la vie politique nationale; l’article 23 les excluait de la presse et de la vie culturelle; l’article 24 proclamait le respect du parti nazi envers un «christianisme positif», pour mieux condamner «l’esprit judéo-matérialiste». or cette thématique pouvait elle aussi constituer un appât pour la Gauche, et il est, de ce point de vue, très suggestif, qu’à l’arraché tant qu’on voudra, l’unanimité n’ait vraiment été atteinte dans la salle, le 24 février 1920, que sur le vote d’une résolution antisémite» (p. 164).
Bouthillon poursuit sa démonstration en insistant sur la spécificité du nazisme, qui parvint à concilier, un temps du moins, Droite et Gauche et ainsi refermer la plaie qu'avait ouverte la Révolution française en séparant, historiquement, les deux frères irréconciliables partout ailleurs qu'en France selon l'auteur (2) : «Or, dans l’histoire allemande, la nazisme constitue à la fois l’apogée de la haine entre la Gauche et la Droite, parce qu’il est né de la Droite la plus extrême et qu’il vomit la Gauche, et, en même temps, l’ébauche de leur réconciliation, précisément parce qu’il se veut un national-socialisme, unissant donc, à un nationalisme d’extrême-Droite, un socialisme d’extrême-Gauche. Vu sous cet angle, sa nature politique la plus authentique est donc celle d’un centrisme, mais par addition des extrêmes; et c’est pourquoi il peut espérer parvenir en Allemagne à une véritable refondation» (p. 173). Au sujet de cette thèse de Bouthillon, sans cesse répétée dans son ouvrage, de la création du nazisme par l'addition des extrêmes, notons ce passage : «pour que la Droite mute en l’une de ces formes de totalitarisme que sont les fascismes, il faut qu’elle accepte de faire sien un apport spécifique de la Gauche, et même de l’extrême-Gauche» (pp. 189-90).
Toutes ces pages (hormis celles, peut-être, du chapitre 2 consacré à Bismarck) sont intéressantes et écrites dans un style maîtrisé, moins vif cependant que celui d'un Éric Zemmour. Elles n'évoquent cependant point directement le sujet même qui donne son sous-titre à l'ouvrage de Bouthillon. Il faut ainsi prendre son mal en patience pour découvrir, au dernier chapitre, la thèse pour le moins condensée (en guise de piste de recherche méthodiquement développée, comme celle d'Emilio Gentile exposée dans La Religion fasciste), d'un autre ouvrage de l'auteur intitulé Et le bunker était vide. Une lecture du testament politique d'Adolf Hitler (Hermann, 2007). Car, en guise d'histoire théologique du nazisme que la seule référence à Carl Schmitt évoquant la théologie paulinienne ne peut tout de même combler (3), nous avons droit à une série de rapprochements, parfois quelque peu spécieux (4) entre les derniers faits et gestes de Hitler et ceux du Christ, comme celui-ci : «Le testament qu’il [Hitler] laisse est lui-même conçu comme un équivalent du discours du Christ pendant la dernière Cène, au moment de passer de ce monde à son Père : «je ne vous laisse pas seuls», tel est le thème dominant de ces adieux, dans un dispositif où l’expulsion de Göring et de Himmler hors du Parti pour trahison est l’exact pendant de celle de Judas hors du cénacle» (p. 254).
C'est donc affirmer que, s'il ne faut point considérer Hitler comme l'antichrist (5), il peut à bon droit être vu comme l'un de ses représentants, une idée qui a fait les délices de nombre d'auteurs, dont le sérieux de la recherche est d'ailleurs matière à controverse, tant certaines thèses ont pu sembler loufoques aux historiens du nazisme.
Mais affirmer que Hitler n'est qu'une des figures du Mal, et certainement pas celui-ci en personne si je puis dire nous fait peut-être toucher du doigt la thèse qui semblera véritablement scandaleuse aux yeux des lecteurs : Hitler est un dictateur absolument médiocre, dont le seul coup de génie a été, selon Bouthillon, d'adopter une position centriste qui lui a permis de mélanger habilement les idées et les influences venues des deux extrêmes politiques.
Autant dire que, devant l'effacement des frontières politiques auquel nous assistons de nos jours, la voie est libre pour que naissent une furieuse couvée de petits (ou de grands) Hitler qui, soyons-en certains, auront à cœur de venger l'honneur de leur père putatif et surtout de lire le testament aux accents fondamentalement religieux selon Bouthillon que le chef déchu leur aura laissé juste avant de se suicider et de faire disparaître son corps, comme une ultime parodie démoniaque de l'absence du cadavre du Christ.
Notes
* Livre dont Jean-Luc Evard donnera, ici même, une critique véritable, ce que la mienne n'est évidemment point qui se contente de dégager les grands axes de la démonstration de Bouthillon.
(1) Sur le salut nazi, Fabrice Bouthillon affirme : «Ce geste fasciste par excellence, qu’est le salut de la main tendue, n’est-il pas au fond né à Gauche ? N’a-t-il pas procédé d’abord de ces votes à main levée dans les réunions politiques du parti, avant d’être militarisé ensuite par le raidissement du corps et le claquement des talons – militarisé et donc, par là, droitisé, devenant de la sorte le symbole le plus parfait de la capacité nazie à faire fusionner, autour de Hitler, valeurs de la Gauche et valeurs de la Droite ? Car il y a bien une autre origine possible à ce geste, qui est la prestation de serment le bras tendu; mais elle aussi est, en politique, éminemment de Gauche, puisque le serment prêté pour refonder, sur l’accord des volontés individuelles, une unité politique dissoute, appartient au premier chef à la liste des figures révolutionnaires obligées, dans la mesure même où la dissolution du corps politique, afin d’en procurer la restitution ultérieure, par l’engagement unanime des ex-membres de la société ancienne, est l’acte inaugural de toute révolution. Ainsi s’explique que la prestation du serment, les mains tendues, ait fourni la matière de l’une des scènes les plus topiques de la révolution française – et donc aussi, qu’on voie se dessiner, derrière le tableau par Hitler du meeting de fondation du parti nazi, celui, par David, du Serment du Jeu de Paume» (p. 171).
(2) «À partir de 1918, il n’est donc plus contestable qu’une voie particulière s’ouvre dans l’histoire de l’Europe pour l’une des nations qui la composent. Mais c’est la voie française. Parce que, sur le continent, pour la France, et pour la France seulement, la victoire pérennise alors la réconciliation de la Gauche et de la Droite qui s’était opérée dans l’Union sacrée, le clairon du 11 novembre ferme pour elle l’époque qui s’était ouverte avec la Révolution, et la République devient aussi légitime à Paris que la monarchie avait pu l’être avant 1789. Mais partout ailleurs sur le continent, c’est la défaite, dès 1917 pour la Russie, en 1918 pour l’Allemagne, en 1919, autour du tapis vert, pour l’Italie» (p. 107). Cet autre passage éclaire notre propos : «La période qui va de 1789 à 1914 avait été dominée par la séparation de la Gauche et de la Droite provoquée par la révolution française, et l’Allemagne avait perdu la chance que l’union sacrée lui avait donnée de refermer cette brèche. Du coup, la logique de la situation créée par la Révolution perdure, s’amplifie, se durcit : à Droite, la brutalisation exacerbe les nationalismes, à Gauche, elle surexcite l’universalisme, jusqu’à en tirer le bolchevisme. Moyennant quoi, la nécessité de mettre un terme à cette fracture se fait, au même rythme, plus impérieuse» (p. 197).
(3) «Rétablir l’Empire, réunir l’extrême Gauche et l’extrême Droite : Hitler aussi s’est donné ces deux objectifs, et la parenté de son entreprise avec celle de Napoléon ne doit donc rien au hasard. Elle vient de ce que le nazisme est né de l’effondrement révolutionnaire du katekhon aussi directement que le bonapartisme en est sorti. Comme ce qui se passe en Allemagne en 1933 vise à combler le gouffre, un moment refermé en 1914, mais rouvert dès 1918, qui béait sous la politique européenne depuis qu’en 1789, la Révolution avait mis un terme au prolongement que, durant près de quatorze siècles, le régime de Chrétienté avait procuré à l’Empire romain, la dimension antichristique du nazisme en découle immédiatement, faite d’opposition radicale au christianisme et de ressemblance avec lui, de ressemblance avec lui pour cause d’opposition radicale à lui» (pp. 262-3). Auparavant, l'auteur aura évoqué, tirant profit des thèses bien connues de René Girard (cf. p. 198) sur la violence mimétique, la volonté (et son exécution) d'exterminer les Juifs par une analyse du gouffre en question et des façons pour le moins radicales de le combler : «La Droite continentale tient qu’on ne peut quitter le contrat ancien, qu’il est en fait impossible de déchirer définitivement; la Droite insulaire [avec Burke], elle, démontre qu’on ne peut parvenir à un contrat nouveau. Or la Révolution s’étant pourtant bel et bien produite, il en résulte qu’on se trouve dans un état limbaire, intermédiaire entre ces deux vérités. On est entre l’Ancien Régime, chrétien, où la Victime, sur le sacrifice de laquelle reposait en dernière analyse tout l’ordre social, depuis la mise en place de l’augustinisme politique, était le Christ, régime qu’on ne peut totalement oublier – et le nouveau contrat social, qui, par hypothèse, ne devra plus rien au christianisme, mais auquel on ne peut atteindre. Eh bien, la solution intermédiaire est de refonder l’unité sur la haine du Juif : ce n’est plus le régime ancien, ça tient donc du nouveau; mais ce n’est pas un régime absolument nouveau, et ça tient donc de l’ancien : puisque dans l’ancien, en la personne du Christ, déjà la victime était juive» (p. 199).
(4) Ainsi du rapprochement opéré par l'auteur entre Eva Braun / Adolf Hitler et Ève / Adam, cf. p. 251-2.
(5) «En dictant son testament politique, Hitler visait à s’ériger en une espèce de dieu; faire de lui le Diable, comme y concourent avec ensemble de nos jours les médias, politiques et institutions d’enseignement, c’est l’aider à atteindre son but. S’il y avait cependant une leçon à retenir de la théologie de l’Antéchrist, ce serait pourtant que du mal, il n’a été qu’une des figures, et qu’il y aura pire – un pire que peu fort bien servir cette espèce de sacralisation perverse dont notre époque le fait jouir, grosse d’effets en retour au bout desquels nous ne sommes probablement pas rendus» (p. 268).
00:05 Publié dans Histoire, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : national-socialisme, révolution, révolution brune, allemagne, années 20, années 30, années 40, histoire | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mardi, 08 février 2011
Churchill: More Myth than Legend
Churchill: More Myth than Legend
by Patrick Foy
Last week a country-club Republican friend in Palm Beach gave me a copy of The Weekly Standard and urged me to read “A World in Crisis: What the thirties tell us about today” by opinion editor Matthew Continetti. The article would have the reader believe that the universe’s fate hinged upon a little-known 1931 Manhattan traffic accident involving Winston Churchill.
Churchill was crossing Fifth Avenue at 76th Street in the late evening of December 13th, 1931 on his way to Bernard Baruch’s apartment for a powwow when he looked the wrong way, crossed against the light, and was sideswiped by a car going 30MPH. The hapless statesman spent over a week in Lenox Hill Hospital recovering from a sprained shoulder, facial lacerations, and a mild concussion, all of which required a doctor’s prescription for “alcoholic spirits especially at meal times.” Continetti mentions “the granularity of history,” whatever that means: “If the car had been traveling just a little bit faster, the history of the twentieth century would have been irrevocably altered.” True enough, but for the better or the worse?
Continetti would argue that this chance mishap worked out for the best. His premise is that the 1930s were dangerous times much like our own, and it took the astute Winston Churchill to come to humanity’s rescue and make things right: “A few people in December 1931 recognized the growing danger. The patient at Lenox Hill Hospital was one.” Oh, dear. What bilge.
The Weekly Standard, as well as National Review Online and Commentary Magazine, all belong to the same faux-conservative neocon fraternity which hijacked Washington starting with H. W. Bush in the Cold War’s aftermath and has demolished any hope of a “peace dividend” ever since.
Fighting fire with gasoline is not generally a good idea, and Islamic extremism is a logical byproduct of the Tel Aviv-Washington alliance. Hence, the slow-motion downfall of the world’s “indispensable nation” is now upon us. It reminds me of the sad state of Little England in WWII’s aftermath, all thanks to Sir Winston’s myopic leadership.
Neocon opportunists have grabbed Churchill as one of their own. He is always linked to the presumed “good war” and has been glorified to the skies as a result. But what if that car had been traveling faster down Fifth Avenue in 1931 and knocked the British bulldog into the next world? Could the Second World War have been avoided altogether?
“Neocon opportunists have grabbed Churchill as one of their own.”
The “good war” resulted in approximately fifty million fatalities worldwide, left Europe a starved and blasted continent, destroyed the far-flung British and French empires, brought the Soviets into Europe’s heart for more than forty years, and handed China over to Mao Tse-tung.
Churchill actively participated in making World War II a global conflict. He promoted war’s outbreak in Europe in the summer of 1939, utilizing the Versailles Treaty’s last unresolved issue: Danzig and the Polish Corridor. Prime Minister Chamberlain gave Poland a blanket guarantee of the status quo, terminating a negotiated settlement and making war between Berlin and Warsaw inevitable.
In 1941, Churchill withheld vital information from the Hawaiian commanders about an imminent outbreak of hostilities. London’s Far East code-breakers had cracked the Japanese naval code, JN-25, and Churchill had access to it. The “surprise” attack on Pearl Harbor turned the European conflict into a truly global war. It was Pearl Harbor that saved Churchill’s backside and rescued the Roosevelt presidency.
Churchill had some surprisingly positive things to say about Hitler prior to the invasion of Poland. In Francis Neilson’s The Churchill Legend Neilson quotes what Churchill wrote about the German leader in a letter to himself dated September 17th, 1937 and included in Step by Step, published in 1939:
“One may dislike Hitler’s system and yet admire his patriotic achievement. If our country were defeated, I hope we would find a champion as indomitable to restore our courage and lead us back to our place among the nations.”
Along the same lines, Neilson cites the 1937 book Great Contemporaries, in which Churchill states that Hitler’s life’s story “cannot be read without admiration for the courage, the perseverance, and the vital force which enabled him to challenge, defy, conciliate, or overcome, all the authorities or resistances which barred his path.”
I’m now wondering about pre-1931. If the twentieth century could have been “irrevocably altered” by Churchill’s brush with death in a traffic accident between the World Wars, what if Churchill had never been engaged in politics in the first place? For the answer, one has only to get a copy of The Churchill Legend and read it. Francis Neilson, who was a member of Parliament at the outbreak of the Great War, claimed to have known Churchill longer than anyone alive.
The list of disasters Churchill presided over prior to the Second World War includes the fiasco at Gallipoli, the Lusitania’s sinking (when Churchill was First Lord of the Admiralty), and the issuance of the Balfour Declaration in 1917 by the British War Cabinet, which opened a Pandora’s box from which has sprung endless injustice and bloodshed in the Middle East. Not that Churchill deserves the sole credit for these disasters, but his fingerprints are there. He was certainly involved at the highest level. Both the sinking of the Lusitania and the Balfour Declaration were the byproducts of a desperate strategy to drag America into the Great War.
One gets the impression from reading Neilson that Churchill’s entire public career—grounded in both World Wars—shows indisputable evidence of incompetence, opportunism, ruthlessness, mendacity, and bad judgment. Yes, history is repeating itself.
00:05 Publié dans Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, churchill, angleterre, grande-bretagne, seconde guerre mondiale, première guerre mondiale, deuxième guerre mondiale, années 20, années 30, années 40, empire britannique | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mercredi, 02 février 2011
Niccolo Giani e la Mistica della rivoluzione fascista
Niccolò Giani e la Mistica della rivoluzione fascista
Il suo nome ai più non dirà molto. Ma Niccolò Giani fu uno dei più importanti, radicali e oltranzisti esponenti del Fascismo rivoluzionario. Fu, infatti, tra i fondatori, nonché uno dei massimi rappresentanti, della Scuola di Mistica Fascista (SMF). Vissuto il suo ideale fino all’ultimo respiro, morì combattendo sul fronte greco nel 1941, ricevendo, per l’esempio offerto, la medaglia d’oro al valore. Tutto questo, mentre molti “fascisti” – le virgolette sono d’obbligo – s’imboscavano in patria, nascondendosi dietro la retorica di vuoti slogan e sterili parole d’ordine. Quegli stessi che, dopo il 1945, seppero bene in che direzione riciclarsi.
Oggi, con il titolo Mistica della rivoluzione fascista. Antologia di scritti, 1932-1941, la casa editrice catanese Il Cinabro (ufficiostampa@ilcinabro.it) porta alla luce i suoi scritti più significativi, fino ad ora mai ripubblicati. L’antologia prodotta – 268 pagine di passione, analisi politica e militanza vissuta – è un quadro completo ed esplicativo non solo della sua figura, ma anche dell’anima più intransigente della Scuola. Negli scritti di Giani si percepisce, infatti, in modo assolutamente lucido, puntuale e analitico, l’intento della SMF: vivere radicalmente, senza compromessi né mezze misure, lo spirito rivoluzionario dei primi anni del Fascismo. Quello stesso spirito che col passare del tempo e con la strutturazione del partito in regime, con le sue logiche di potere e la tendenza di molti a cavalcarne l’onda per fini personali, si stava ormai perdendo.
Nei testi di Giani si può osservare come quei compromessi di partito venissero, in modo radicale, combattuti e tentati d’estirpare dallo spirito degli appartenenti alla Scuola di Mistica. Ma nel libro non si ritrova solo un’analisi politica contestuale al suo tempo. Si trova anche una visione politica e storica d’insieme dai tratti chiari e netti, in cui il tentativo lampante (si veda, a questo proposito, l’articolo La marcia ideale sul mondo della Civiltà fascista), è quello di superare le categorie politiche derivanti dalle visioni materialistiche, razionalistiche ed economicistiche sorte dal 1789, per dar spazio ad una visione del mondo basata sullo spirito e sulla dedizione totale e incondizionata all’idea e al suo capo.
«Nudi alla meta», non a caso, era uno dei motti dei mistici, che avevano in Arnaldo Mussolini, fratello di Benito – e sua “eminenza grigia”- il loro riferimento. Non fu perciò un caso, che ebbero in dono, come sede, “il Covo” di via Paolo da Cannobio a Milano: vecchia sede del Popolo d’Italia e uno dei centri aggregativi dei primi squadristi. Proprio gli squadristi, il loro spirito rivoluzionario e la loro volontà d’affermazione, furono uno dei principali punti di riferimento dei mistici, i quali intendevano farsi strenui difensori di un ideale che sì, si era affermato, ma che andava sempre più imborghesendosi. Non a caso «Ogni rivoluzione – come aveva detto Mussolini ai capi della SMF – ha tre momenti. Si comincia con la Mistica, si continua con la politica, si finisce nell’amministrazione», e la Scuola avrebbe dovuto perpetuare questo primo momento per la totalità della nuova “era”. Era fascista, appunto.
Il libro, dunque, rappresenta un documento unico e di rara importanza, impreziosito da un ricca bibliografia finale, e dagli interessanti saggi introduttivi di Maurizio Rossi e Luca Leonello Rimbotti. Saggi che aiutano il lettore a districarsi in un contesto storico non facile, e nella vita di un fenomeno ancora troppo poco conosciuto: qual è quello della Scuola di Mistica Fascista. Fenomeno che, non a caso, ha visto, negli ultimi anni, un interessamento di pubblico, studiosi e critica sempre maggiore: e di cui il Borghese si è già più volte interessato.
Consigliamo perciò la lettura di questo volume, senza se e senza ma. Si scoprirà così un mondo di «assurdi» e «fanatici» del movimento fascista messi per troppo tempo in soffitta dalla storiografia ufficiale. Ma che ora bussano prepotentemente alla porta della storia.
* * *
Niccolò Giani, Mistica della rivoluzione fascista. Antologia di scritti, 1932-1941 (con saggi introduttivi di M. Rossi e L. L. Rimbotti), Edizioni Il Cinabro, Pp. 268, Euro 15. Articolo tratto da Il Borghese, dicembre 2010.
00:05 Publié dans Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, italie, fascisme, mystique, mystique fasciste, années 20, années 30, années 40, politique, théorie politique, sciences politiques, politologie | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mardi, 01 février 2011
Il fascismo in America
Il fascismo in America
La recente morte dello storico americano John Patrick Diggins ci offre il destro per alcune considerazioni circa l’argomento del suo studio più noto in Italia, L’America, Mussolini e il fascismo, ormai fuori commercio da anni, in quanto pubblicato da Laterza nel lontano 1982, ma originariamente uscito dieci anni prima col titolo Mussolini and Fascism: The View from America, a cura dell’Università di Princeton. Quello di Diggins è un libro famoso, tradotto in molte lingue, ed è stato un po’ l’apripista della scarna bibliografia sui rapporti tra USA e Italia fascista e sull’attività delle organizzazioni del PNF nella repubblica stellata. Ai tempi fecero scandalo, nel provinciale antifascismo nostrano, alcune riflessioni di Diggins sulla generale simpatia mostrata in America per l’avvento al potere di Mussolini, in virtù della sua politica sociale e, soprattutto, in virtù del suo rivoluzionario disegno antropologico di mutare gli Italiani da turba di straccioni emigranti, facili al coltello e al crimine – di cui negli USA si aveva sin dall’Ottocento una sprezzante opinione, venata di non secondarie inflessioni razziste – finalmente in un popolo serio, moderno e disciplinato.
Diggins, che è stato un rinomato studioso dei movimenti politici e in particolare del ruolo degli intellettuali nelle moderne dinamiche della società di massa, ribaltò decennali pregiudizi che in America avevano, sin dai primi flussi migratori, bollato l’Italiano come un delinquente mafioso, e operò di conserva un aggiustamento delle posizioni. Scrisse che «la maggioranza degli Americani approvarono il Fascismo in base alle loro inclinazioni e ai loro bisogni»: ne apprezzarono il lato di movimento di “rinascita nazionale”. E formulò l’originale prospettiva di un Mussolini visto come un “eroe americano”: l’uomo che dal nulla era riuscito a pervenire a un disegno di riedificazione politica che parve esaltante alla mentalità americana, adusa a premiare lo sforzo bagnato dal successo, l’efficientismo e la tenacia dei propositi dell’individuo d’eccezione. Per una volta, era dunque l’Italia che si dimostrava il “Paese delle occasioni”.
Era, questo, ciò che Diggins ha chiamato «il lato oscuro delle valutazioni politiche americane», implicando la storica immaturità ideologica di quel popolo, versato a superficiali simpatie piuttosto che ad approfonditi scandagli di cultura politica. Bisogna pur dire che, come molto spesso accadde all’estero (ma per la verità non solo all’estero), e soprattutto negli anni Venti, l’accoglienza favorevole che venne riservata al Fascismo al suo avvento e per parecchi anni a seguire, si presentò negli Stati Uniti, più che un filo-fascismo, un filo-mussolinismo. Era la figura carismatica dell’uomo d’ordine, del giovane politico decisionista e innovatore, che colpiva gli immaginari anglosassoni, più di quanto non fosse l’ideologia nazionalpopolare che ne animava le scelte, per lo più ignorata nei suoi risvolti, a parte una generica curiosità per il corporativismo. Le simpatie raccolte da Mussolini in quel mondo – pensiamo solo a Churchill o a Franklin Delano Roosevelt – le diremmo per lo più a-fasciste e prive di connotati ideologici, se non per l’aspetto, certo non secondario, del robusto anti-comunismo impersonato dal Duce.
Paradigmatico, in questo senso, è quanto scritto da Diggins, quando riportava autorevoli giudizi di studiosi dell’Università di New York circa un Mussolini visto come «l’uomo della tradizione con il quale Aristotele, San Tommaso o Machiavelli si sarebbero senza imbarazzo trovati a loro agio». Del resto, come giustamente ha ricordato Renzo Santinon in I Fasci italiani all’estero (Settimo Sigillo), il terreno era già stato in precedenza preparato ad esempio da Marinetti, che «seminando il futurismo nel continente americano, aprì negli anni Venti la strada a una lettura avanguardistica ed entusiasmante del fascismo». Poi, a queste iniziali simpatie si aggiunse nel decennio seguente l’importante episodio del grande successo mediatico e d’opinione ottenuto negli USA da Italo Balbo, a seguito delle sue straordinarie imprese aviatorie. L’eccezionale prestigio riservato al trasvolatore fu sancito da un trionfale corteo per le vie di New York, con l’intitolazione di strade e targhe celebrative all’ex-capo squadrista. Tutto questo funzionò certamente da volano per nuovi consensi al Regime fascista, destinati a scemare soltanto a seguito della guerra etiopica (gli Stati Uniti, su sobillazione inglese, parteciparono alle sanzioni anti-italiane votate dalla Società delle Nazioni, di cui pure non facevano parte), volgendosi poi in crescente ostilità solo dopo l’intervento militare del 1940.
Ma, prima, ci fu tutto un lungo intreccio di rapporti tra America e Italia fascista. In cui non mancarono le luci e le ombre. Se la luce era essenzialmente la figura di Mussolini e in specie la sua politica sociale – segnatamente quella relativa alla bonifica delle terre paludose, che riscosse in America larga eco -, le ombre erano date dalla presenza dell’attivismo fascista di base negli Stati Uniti. Qui, spesso, risuonarono antichi pregiudizi anti-italiani duri a morire. Su questo terreno, il fuoriuscitismo antifascista lavorò sporco e a fondo. Sulla scorta di talune predicazioni marcatamente di parte – pensiamo a Salvemini, che a lungo saturò le Università americane con la sua propaganda ideologica basata sul risentimento – si volle ricreare anche su suolo americano la storica diffamazione basata sul binomio Fascismo-violenza. Un’ostinata campagna falsificatoria si ingegnò di sospingere l’opinione pubblica di quel Paese, ingenuamente portata a dare credibilità al bluff (allora come oggi), verso una preconcetta diffidenza nei confronti dei Fasci, sorti a quelle latitutidini sin da 1921. Fu allora facile mischiare le carte e fare del militante fascista italo-americano nulla più che una nuova versione del mafioso o del picchiatore da bassifondi. E questo, nonostante che le cronache dell’epoca riportassero sì di scontri tra Italo-americani fascisti e antifascisti, ma non mancando per altro di precisare che spesso erano proprio i fascisti a rimanere vittime della violenza e dell’odio: nel 1927, per dire, a New York vennero uccisi i fascisti Nicola Amoroso e Michele D’Ambrosoli, oppure, nel 1932, venne assassinato il fascista Salvatore Arena a Staten Island. Non si ha invece notizia di gravi fatti di sangue di parte fascista.
Il fascismo italo-americano era organizzato. E anche bene. Già nel 1925 c’erano novanta Fasci e migliaia di iscritti nelle città americane, riuniti nella Fascist League of North America guidata da Ignazio Thaon di Revel, che per motivi politici cessò di operare nel 1929. Il coordinamento tra i Fasci fu opera di Giuseppe Bastianini, primo segretario dei Fasci Italiani all’Estero e personaggio ingiustamente demonizzato per le sue origini “movimentiste” (era stato Ardito e vicesegretario del PNF a ventiquattro anni), favorevole allo sviluppo dello squadrismo tra gli italofoni d’oltreoceano. Un ambiente in cui si distinse Domenico Trombetta, singolare figura di organizzatore e animatore, esponente del radicalismo fascista newyorchese, direttore del periodico fascista “Il Grido della Stirpe”, assai diffuso tra gli Italiani e attorno al quale si catalizzò l’idea del volontariato di milizia, a difesa dell’italianità tra i milioni di nostri immigrati negli Stati Uniti. Questo ambiente rimase attivo anche quando, negli anni Trenta, Mussolini, per non urtare la sensibilità americana allarmata dalle campagne antifasciste, per gestire l’immagine del Regime preferì puntare sui normali canali diplomatici anziché sull’attivismo di base. Eppure, anche nel nuovo contesto, diciamo così più istituzionale, il Fascismo dimostrò di essere ben vivo tra gli Italo-americani, tanto da esprimere, persino verso la fine del decennio, una militanza a tutto campo – comprese trasmissioni radiofoniche di propaganda da una stazione di Boston –, ben rappresentato dall’American Union of Fascists di Paul Castorina, in rapporti amichevoli con i fascisti inglesi di Oswald Mosley e con la Canadian Union of Fascists, e dal pre-fascista Ordine dei Figli d’Italia in America, la principale associazione comunitaria italo-americana, che proprio nei tardi anni Trenta si identificò strettamente col Regime italiano, condividendone anche i più recenti indirizzi di politica razziale. Messi in sordina i Fasci per motivi di opportunità politica, una fitta rete di associazioni culturali, di attivisti, animatori di eventi comunitari, ma specialmente di giornali e stampa periodica, fece sì che il Fascismo, fino agli anni a ridosso della guerra, fosse di gran lunga la scelta politica che godeva dei maggiori consensi tra gli Italiani residenti negli USA. Un caso tipico fu l’arruolamento di un migliaio di volontari italo-americani nella Legione degli Italiani all’Estero, comandata in Africa Orientale dal Console della Milizia Piero Parini. E nella sola New York, negli anni Trenta, funzionavano non meno di cinquanta circoli fascisti, i cui membri indossavano la camicia nera e divulgavano assiduamente l’Idea.
Talune di queste dinamiche, e soprattutto quella relativa alla polemica tra istituzioni diplomatiche e Fasci politici, sono state rivisitate nel 2000 da Stefano Luconi in La diplomazia parallela. Il regime fascista e la mobilitazione degli Italo-americani (Franco Angeli), che ha segnalato proprio il ruolo centrale della comunità italo-americana filo-fascista come fattore politico di sostegno al governo di Roma, strumento di pressione economica, d’opinione e anche politica nei confronti di Washington. Una realtà che vedeva le ragioni politiche del Fascismo appoggiate non già dalla teppa dei portuali o dei picciotti del sottoproletariato italiano del New England, ma proprio all’opposto dalla vasta quota di Italiani che in America riportarono un solido successo personale, andando a costituire quel segmento sociale nazionalista, politicamente maturo ed etnicamente solidarista, sul quale non a torto Mussolini faceva conto per avere buona stampa negli Stati Uniti.
Per concludere brevemente l’argomento, vogliamo solo dire che, nonostante il seminale studio di Diggins abbia riportato larga fama, insegnando a molti come si fa storiografia senza confonderla con le opinioni personali, ancora oggi ci si imbatte in spiacevoli casi di ottusa faziosità. Chi si desse la pena di dare uno sguardo a quanto scrive ad esempio Matteo Pretelli sul sito “Iperstoria” gestito dal Dipartimento di Storia dell’Università di Verona e dal locale Istituto Storico della Resistenza, sotto il titolo Fascismo, violenza e malavita all’estero. Il caso degli Stati Uniti d’America, potrebbe pensare che Diggins abbia predicato nel deserto. Il solerte accademico italiano – che ci assicurano Lecteur presso l’Università di Melbourne – si danna l’anima per dimostrare i legami tra Fascismo italo-americano e criminalità mafiosa. Nessuno nega che da qualche parte ci sia stato un mascalzone che abusava della camicia nera. Ogni rivoluzione ha avuto la sua feccia, e il Fascismo molto meno di altre. Ma vorremmo segnalare al propagandista in parola che la malavita vera, quella gestita dai grandi criminali mafiosi, dimostrò di non stare dalla parte del Fascismo, bensì da quella dell’antifascismo. Basta sfogliare il libro di Alfio Caruso Arrivano i nostri pubblicato nel 2004 da Longanesi, in cui si dimostra in che misura la lobby di massoni e mafiosi di vertice preparò lo sbarco americano in Sicilia nel 1943. Lì non fu il caso di teppistelli: l’intero apparato della criminalità mafiosa organizzata, estirpata manu militari dal Fascismo nel 1928, si ripresentò compatto in veste di mortale nemico del Fascismo. E fu la volta di Genco Russo, Calogero Vizzini, Lucky Luciano… insomma la “cupola” al completo, ritornata al potere in Sicilia sotto bandiera a stelle e strisce e garantita dal capofila del legame tra mafia e governance americana: quel Charles Poletti che gettò le basi della repubblica italiana “democratica”, antifascista, ma soprattutto mafiosa, che gode ancora oggi ottima salute.
* * *
Tratto da Linea del 6 febbraio 2009.
00:05 Publié dans Histoire | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : histoire, amérique, etats-unis, fascisme, années 30, années 40, histoire, dissidence | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook