dimanche, 01 juin 2014
Contra Faustian Man
Contra Faustian Man
By Eugène Montsalvat
Ex: http://www.counter-culture.com
“The history of mankind as a whole is tragic. But the sacrilege and the catastrophe of the Faustian are greater than all others, greater than anything Æschylus or Shakespeare ever imagined. The creature is rising up against its creator. As once the microcosm Man against Nature, so now the microcosm Machine is revolting against Nordic Man. The lord of the World is becoming the slave of the Machine, which is forcing him — forcing us all, whether we are aware of it or not — to follow its course. The victor, crashed, is dragged to death by the team.”
— Oswald Spengler, Man and Technics
The unique characteristics of Faustian civilization, as Spengler described it, are now leading Europe to destruction. The Faustian is characterized by a drive towards the infinite, a will to break through the boundaries that limit man, whether they be intellectual or physical. Spengler calls the prime symbol of the Faustian soul “limitless space.”[1] Like Goethe’s Faust, Faustian civilization seeks infinite knowledge.
However, as this civilization declines, limitless space becomes an all-consuming maw that threatens the survival of all traditions, the all-encompassing extension of the Faustian soul ensnaring all the peoples of the world in its decline. Faustian man, detached from the earth, is on course to share the fate of Icarus. The fruits of the Faustian mind — rationalism, universalism, liberalism, industrialism, and globalization — threaten identity and heritage on a global scale.
While it is true that all civilizations, no matter what their particulars are, are bound to die as all living organisms are bound to die, the unique characteristics of the Faustian decline are uniquely disastrous. Whereas the ethnic Romans and Persians survived the collapse of the Roman and Persian empires, Western man’s dying civilization threatens to physically eliminate him, while also spreading the contagion of liberalism to non-Western cultures.
The Faustian tendency to break down barriers has transmogrified into the toxic global homogenization of cultures and peoples in the waning stages of Western civilization, that enables foreign and internal threats to multiply. The Faustian mindset must be discarded if Western Europeans and their descendants ever hope to create another great civilization in the ruins of this one.
One of the root causes of the current situation is universalism, which does not respect the particular qualities of an ethnos. The Faustian concept of space necessitates universalism. We may take the Faustian embrace monotheism as a starting point for this tendency. As Spengler wrote, “The plurality of separate bodies which represents Cosmos for the Classical soul, requires a similar pantheon — hence the antique polytheism. The single world-volume, be it conceived as cavern or as space, demands the single god of Magian or Western Christianity.”[2] Instead of separate moral universes, the Faustian worldview accepts only one.
While this monotheistic worldview is not unique to Faustian civilization, the Magian soul’s cavern infers a certain limit to its sovereignty, as we see in Islamic theology, where the world is divided separate houses, one of which is the house of Islam, Dar al-Islam. The unbounded space of the Faustian soul merges seamlessly into the Hebrew Bible’s conception of space. In On Being A Pagan, Alain de Benoist characterizes the latter, “The universe is thus conceived in the Bible as a world with no spatial boundaries.”[3]
National borders, borders between religions, between ethnic groups, are erased in the Faustian mind, indeed no group has embraced biblical universalism to the extent that Faustian civilization has. No other civilization has ranged so far and so wide in their efforts to impose their morality upon the entirety of the world. Even the most ferocious of the Islamic expansions, including the Salafist trends of our day, pale in comparison to the sustained attempt of the West to convert the rest of the globe. We see these efforts in the Crusades of the Teutonic Knights against the pagan Balts, the Swedes waging war on the Orthodox Slavs of Novgorod, the Spaniards’ attempts to convert the Indian populations of the Americas, the civilizing mission of the British Empire, and into this day and age with America’s global War on Terror.
While some men may look upon these events as great triumphs of Western Civilization, they are really milestones in a trend of globalization reaching its pinnacle now. Faustian civilization, in many ways like the most Salafist strains of Islam, sees the need to impose a single moral vision upon the world, whether it be a colonial nation’s particular strain of Christianity, or liberal democracy.
Under Roman rule, different customs and beliefs could coexist within certain moral boundaries, a cosmos of separate moral planets. In contrast, the Faustian man believes that his particular morality extends to the ends of the earth. Hence Kant’s dictum, “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law without contradiction.”
Thus international organizations and courts trample upon the sovereignty of peoples. The particulars of a man himself are stripped away, he is no longer German, an English, or Chinese, he is “man,” in the abstract. Any attempts to resists this alleged universal morality common to mankind are deemed criminal. Those who do not fall into line are primitives, heretics, or, to use more modern parlance, rogue states.
On the opposite end, the Faustian civilization is rendered rootless. There is nothing that could stand in the way of limitless space for there is no law without a universal character according to him. There can no longer be different standards of morality for different classes, genders, or any other social division. No longer is there a way of action and a way of contemplation, a way of kings and a way of priests, a way of men and a way of women, there is simply a universal way. Faustian civilization turned towards egalitarianism.
Political liberalism can be seen as the extension of a certain Anglo-Saxon mindset that grew under Christianity. Alain de Benoist states in The Problem of Democracy, “liberal democracies are rooted not so much in the spirit of ancient democracy as in Christian individualism, the rationalism of the Enlightenment, and the Anglo-Saxon Protestant spirit. In these democracies, the ‘citizen’ is not he who inhabits a history and a destiny through his belonging to a given people, but a rather an abstract, atemporal, and universal being, which regardless of any belonging, is the holder of ‘human rights’ decreed to be unalienable.”[4] Hence, politics ceased to be defined by the conditions of the polis itself. In the democracies of Ancient Greece, political freedoms were derived from being a member of a specific community, generally that which one was born into from autochthonous stock. In contrast to Classical civilization, Faustian civilization invented the universal rights of man, which appear to guarantee freedom from the bonds of community. Once again the theme of the replacement of the particular by the universal is evident. The rooted pillar of classical civilization is replaced by the infinite field of the Faustian.
The rootless political existence develops into rootless personal existence. The Faustian tendency towards uprooted modes of existence finds expression in postmodern philosophy. The boundless space of Faustian man is the home of the rhizome of Deleuze and Guattari, “It has neither beginning nor end.” The rhizome shares with Faustian physics a focus on motion and dynamics as opposed to discrete static objects, “It is composed not of units but of dimensions, or rather directions in motion.” Compare this with the Faustian focus on force, “There is no Western statics — that is, no interpretation of mechanical facts that is natural to the Western spirit bases itself on the ideas of form and substance, or even, for that matter, on the ideas of space and mass otherwise than in connexion with those of time and force.”[5] In both cases, the focus on actual substance, being, is reduced.
The criticism of being in their seminal text A Thousand Plateaus, displays certain Faustian characteristics as well. Here the rhizome is contrasted with the tree. Once again the symbol of rootedness is attacked by Faustian thought, with its additive and expansive qualities. “The tree imposes the verb ‘to be’, but the fabric of the rhizome is the conjunction, ‘and…and…and…’. This conjunction carries enough force to shake and uproot the verb ‘to be’.”
The contrast between the dynamic and the static becomes open conflict in the postmodernity of declining Faustian civilization where its expansiveness becomes full deterritorialization. What seems like abstract philosophy has a very real presence in the world. In the nomadic lifestyles imposed by many careers, where relocation across the face of the globe has become normal, in the fluid identities and fragmented subcultures of American youth, in global electronic networks, in globalization’s erosion of local economies, the rhizome dominates. Faustian dynamism and limitlessness has resulted in a world of scattered and broken spirits.
Due to the inherently limited nature of the physical world, the Faustian mind tends toward abstraction. Spengler’s discussion of the different conceptions of mathematics in instructive in this instance. “The beginning and end of the Classical mathematic is consideration of the properties of individual bodies and their boundary-surfaces; thus indirectly taking in conic sections and higher curves. We, on the other hand, at bottom know only the abstract space-element of the point, which can neither be seen, nor measured, nor yet named, but represents simply a centre of reference. The straight line, for the Greeks a measurable edge, is for us an infinite continuum of points.”[6] Classical mathematics is rooted in physical reality. It focuses on measurable quantities and physical shapes and surfaces. In contrast, Faustian mathematics is not constrained by what humans can touch, measure, or observe. We cannot count an infinite number of objects, nor have i (the square root of -1) of them, yet these concepts are integral to our mathematical system.
This retreat into the mind exacerbates the conflict between the physical and the intellectual. Instead of balance between mind and body, the Faustian mind gravitates towards logocentrism, a term most would associate with Derrida, but was coined by Conservative Revolutionary philosopher Ludwig Klages in his work The Intellect As Antagonist of the Soul.[7]
This movement towards the mental abstraction moves man away from the instinctive, the vital. Thus the Faustian tendency towards starry eyed idealism. Otto Reche speaks of “the powerfully rousing and simultaneously tragic song about the Nordic race and its idealism.”[8] At its worst it becomes a world denying tendency. Instead of experiencing the world in its mystery and majesty, we reduce it to what D. H. Lawrence termed a “thought form” a construct of abstract laws and facts existing only in our minds. As he says in “Introduction to the Dragon,”
. . . our sun and our moon are only thought-forms to us, balls of gas, dead globes of extinct volcanoes, things we know but never feel by experience. By experience, we should feel the sun as the savages feel him, we should ‘know’ him as the Chaldeans knew him, in a terrific embrace. But our experience of the sun is dead, we are cut off. All we have now is the thought -form of the sun. He is a blazing ball of gas, he has spots occasionally, from some sort of indigestion, and he makes you brown and healthy if you let him.[9]
Nietzsche correctly identified the retreat into the world of reason as a symptom of weakness. He states in the essay “Reason in Philosophy” from Twilight of the Idols, “To divide the world into a ‘real’ and ‘apparent’ world … is only a suggestion of decadence – symptom of declining life.” It is no great surprise that the West has wholeheartedly endorsed the Enlightenment program of rationalism, and its political emanation, liberalism. While rationalism is the mark of all declining civilizations throughout history, it aligns most intensely with the Faustian, whose affinity for abstraction was present at its birth. Indeed, we see in no other civilization an ideology like Enlightenment liberalism. Liberalism is a uniquely Western illness emerging from the Faustian decline.
Related to the Faustian tendency towards abstraction is the technical sophistication of Faustian civilization. Inventions spring from the unbounded Faustian mind. From the tools of abstract mathematics Faustian man has constructed the most precise and powerful theories of physical forces known to man. The combination of unlimited thought and dynamism enabled never before seen technological breakthroughs.
Indeed, not content with being in the world, Faustian man sought to create an artificial paradise. Spengler characterizes this attitude in Man and Technics “To build a world oneself, to be oneself God — that is the Faustian inventor’s dream, and from it has sprung all our designing and re-designing of machines to approximate as nearly as possible to the unattainable limit of perpetual motion.”
Spengler was keenly aware of the consequences of this mechanical world. In industrial societies the rise of alienation is seen, “And now, since the eighteenth century, innumerable ‘hands’ work at things of which the real role in life (even as affecting themselves) is entirely unknown to them and in the creation of which, therefore, they have inwardly no share. A spiritual barrenness sets in and spreads, a chilling uniformity without height or depth.”
No longer is the producer a traditional craftsman who handles the creation of goods from start to finish. He is merely performing one action of many required for the assembly of an object. The laborer’s dignity is diminished on the factory floor. This in turn breeds social conflict between the laborers and the managerial class. “The tension between work of leadership and work of execution has reached the level of a catastrophe. The importance of the former, the economic value of every real personality in it, has become so great that it is invisible and incomprehensible to the majority of the underlings. In the latter, the work of the hands, the individual is now entirely without significance.”
In addition to the social consequences, there are irreversible and wide-ranging ecological consequences. The depletion of natural resources, the elimination of species, the poisoning of our food, and water supplies, anthropogenic climate change. It is not alarmist to state that technology threatens life on earth. Spengler noted in 1931, “All things organic are dying in the grip of organization. An artificial world is permeating and poisoning the natural.”
In addition to the existential threat posed by technology, it greatly enhances the foreign threats against Faustian civilization. The expansive nature of Faustian man to spread to all the corners of the map, is mimicked by his technology. In the quest for ever greater profits and power, industry has spread all over the world. We may think this to be a late 20th-century problem linked with globalization, but it was already in motion in Spengler’s time, with Japan emerging as an industrial power in Asia. It has only increased in our time, with the outsourcing of industry and the spread of advanced weaponry to peoples who could not have possibly invented them. Global industrialization simultaneously has strengthened the power of non-Western peoples, while sapping the strength of the native working class in the West. Faustian technology, operating hand-in-hand with the forces of capital, has enabled the mass movement of foreign peoples into formerly homogeneous nations. While mass immigration has no one single cause, it is effectively, to use Alain de Benoist’s notable turn of phrase, “the reserve army of capital.” In his essay of the same title, Benoist notes how the French construction and automobile industries deployed trucks in the Maghreb to recruit immigrant labor. While it is true that other civilizations have imported foreign labor, only the late Faustian civilization has done it on such a scale as to threaten the survival of their national ethnic integrity. The combination of borderless thought and high technology now threatens the survival of the very people who dreamed up such ideas, as the threat of Europeans becoming minorities in their own homelands grows.
Perhaps a stronger descriptor than Faustian for the civilization that is our subject would be Titanic. Titanic in the sense of the Italian Traditionalist philosopher Julius Evola, who uses the term Titanism to refer to a particular type of usurpation of divine power. It accentuates the Faustian revolt against the divine order. Evola characterizes the Titanic civilization as such:
The first type of civilization is the Titanic one, in a negative sense, and refers to the spirit of a materialistic and violent race that no longer recognized the authority of the spiritual principle corresponding to the priestly symbol or to the spiritually feminine “brother” (e.g., Cain vs. Abel); this race affirmed itself and attempted to take possession, by surprise and through an inferior type of employment, of a body of knowledge that granted control over certain invisible powers inherent to things and people. Therefore, this represented an upheaval and a counterfeit of what could have been the privilege of the previous “glorious men,” namely, of the virile spirituality connected to the function of order and of domination “from above.” It was Prometheus who usurped the heavenly fire in favor of the human races, and yet he did not know how to carry it; thus the fire became his source of torment and damnation.[10]
Faustian man, like Prometheus, has stolen fire from the gods, reordering nature to suit his purpose. The Faustian man revolted against nature, as Spengler notes, “The creature is rising up against its creator. As once the microcosm Man against Nature, so now the microcosm Machine is revolting against Nordic Man.”
The expansive Faustian mind seeks to eliminate the barriers imposed by nature itself. Hegel characterizes it as thus, “The principle of the European mind is self-conscious reason which is confident that for it there can be no insuperable barrier and which therefore takes an interest in everything in order to become present to itself therein.” What we see is the drive of Faustian science to “know the mind of God,” which English physicist Stephen Hawking equated with “the ultimate triumph of human reason.” And if it is uncovered perhaps it will do more harm than good. The Spenglerian horror writer H. P. Lovecraft states prophetically in his story “The Call of Cthulhu”:
We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
The ecological devastation and social chaos sown by the scientific advances of Western civilization seem to validate Lovecraft. However, the Promethean narrative offers a glimmer of hope, a way out. The hero Heracles, son of the Olympian Zeus, frees Prometheus from his torture. Evola states that Heroism, as represented by Heracles in the Titanic cycle, is “the restoration of the Olympian solar spirituality and overcoming of both the Mother and Titan figures.” Considered from the spiritual position of Tradition, the overcoming of Titanic Faustian civilization is possible. However, let us not forget the role of man in fulfilling destiny and let us recognize the need for a new spirit to transcend our declining civilization before it destroys us.
This restoration need not be a return to the “dark ages” of obscurantism. Indeed oriented in the proper direction, the traits we associate with Faustian civilization, such as constant self-overcoming, intrepidity, rising to challenges, are tools for spiritual growth that predate Faustian civilization. From a Traditional viewpoint, they predate humanity itself, they are transcendent, beyond space and time. Evola’s “esoteric reading” of Nietzsche makes this clear:
The cutting of all bonds, the intolerance of all limits, the pure and incoercible impulse to overcome without any determined goal, to always move on beyond any given state, experience, or idea, and naturally and even more beyond any human attachment to a given person, fearing neither contradictions nor destructions, thus pure movement, with all that that implies of dis- solution — “advancing with a devouring fire that leaves nothing behind itself,” to use an expression from an ancient wisdom tradition, though it applies to a very different context — these essential characteristics that some have already recognized in Nietzsche can be explained precisely as so many forms in which the transcendent acts and manifests.[11]
However, these tendencies need to be directed vertically, towards transcendence, not horizontally in the realm of sheer materialism, not manifesting in the need to dominate the world’s physical being. Evola attributes Nietzsche’s mental collapse to the fact that his energy remained on a non-transcendent level, burning him out like a circuit whose current is too strong. Continuing with the contrast between the horizontal plane of life, and the vertical axis of “more than life,” in the sense of George Simmel’s “more than living” (mehrs als leben), we can envision two symbols, the ocean, and the mountain. The divine order stands with the mountain, whereas Faustian Titanism is the realm of the ocean. Western man is faced with a choice. He can conquer himself and ascend the peaks of the spirit, or he conquer the world and disappear past the water’s horizon.
Notes
1. Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West, vol. 1, Form and Actuality, trans. Charles Francis Atkins (New York: Knopf, 1926), p. 337.
2. Ibid. p. 187.
3. Alain de Benoist, On Being a Pagan, trans. Jon Graham, ed. Greg Johnson (Atlanta: Ultra, 2004), p. 84.
4. Alain de Benoist, The Problem of Democracy (London: Arktos, 2011), p. 43
5. Spengler, The Decline of the West, vol. 1, p. 414.
6. Ibid. p. 82.
7. Richard Wolin, The Seduction of Unreason: The Intellectual Romance with Fascism from Nietzsche to Postmodernism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006), p. 155
8. See Kevin MacDonald’s Foreword to Vladimir Avdeyev’s Raciology, http://velesova-sloboda.vho.org/antrop/macdonald-foreword-to-raciology.html [2]
9. D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and The Writings on Revelation (London: Penguin, 1996), p. 51.
10. Julius Evola, Revolt Against the Modern World, trans. Guido Stucco (Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions, 1995), p. 219.
11. Julius Evola, Ride the Tiger, trans. Joscelyn Godwin and Constance Fontana (Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions, 2003), p. 51.
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mercredi, 30 avril 2014
Pensatori germanici di fronte al problema russo
La Mitteleuropa e l’Est
Pensatori germanici di fronte al problema russo
I Tedeschi e i Russi sono i due grandi popoli dell’Europa Continentale che nel corso del Novecento si sono scontrati non una, ma due volte, nel corso di guerre sanguinose, che hanno compromesso l’equilibrio del Vecchio Continente.
Un destino inesorabile di ostilità separa dunque Russia e Germania? La storia recente ci mostra anche gli indizi di possibili percorsi alternativi: all’inizio del Novecento, la proposta del Kaiser Guglielmo II di un grande mercato comune tra le nazioni della Triplice Alleanza e l’Impero Russo; poi sul finire degli anni Trenta il patto Molotov-Ribbentrop; negli anni Cinquanta la proposta di Stalin di concedere alla Germania i territori orientali della DDR in cambio della neutralizzazione[1].
Nel Ventunesimo secolo, archiviata la terribile stagione delle ideologie totalitarie di destra e di sinistra[2], il dialogo tra le due grandi entità territoriali del Continente-Europa può riprendere più serenamente e più proficuamente.
Giova a tal fine ricordare i grandi pensatori tedeschi che – vincendo anche una diffusa tendenza nazionalista che portava a considerare gli slavi come “inferiori” – avevano già concepito l’idea di una integrazione tra Mitteleuropa e Russia, e più in generale avevano concepito una filosofia della storia secondo la quale lo sviluppo dei popoli europei esaurita la fase atlantica-occidentale puntava decisamente verso Est.
Oswald Spengler
Nel suo capolavoro, Il Tramonto dell’Occidente, Spengler concepiva le civiltà come grandi organismi spirituali. Esse nascono, fioriscono, fruttificano e alla fine declinano, ognuno di essa sviluppando la sua particolare impronta. Nella fase aurorale di civiltà (la Kultur) si manifestano le forze creative, nella seconda fase si ha una sorta di moltiplicazione esteriore di energie e una tendenza alla razionalizzazione (la Zivilisation) che prelude alla decadenza. E tuttavia il tramonto di una civiltà coincide con il sorgere di una altra che esprime la sua “anima” in un diverso “paesaggio geografico”.
L’anima della civiltà egizia era proiettata nella vita futura, nell’aldilà. Massima era la preoccupazione di preservare l’essere individuale dalla caducità della vita presente. La civiltà sumera fu quella che sviluppò una scienza della misura, del numero, del calcolo, strettamente legata all’osservazione delle stelle.
Più lontano, ad Oriente, l’anima indiana tendeva ad estraniarsi dalla storia e a immergersi in un Nirvana intemporale. In questo senso il Buddhismo è la perfetta espressione della fase di Zivilisation della civiltà indiana. Al contrario, la civiltà cinese ricercava il suo equilibrio nella armoniosa cura dell’ambiente che si manifesta nella passione per il collezionare.
La civiltà persiana con Zarathustra elabora i concetti di creazione, lotta tra luce e tenebre, avvento di un salvatore, giudizio finale, che in seguito verranno ereditati dal giudaismo e poi – in una prospettiva universale – dal cristianesimo.
Con maggiori dettagli Spengler si sofferma sulla civiltà classica antica, greca e romana, che egli definisce “apollinea”, tutta incentrata sul concetto di forma: perfetta proporzione e armonia delle parti. Questo ideale di limite, perfetta determinazione caratterizza la scultura, ma anche l’etica, la scienza e la concezione dell’anima così come possiamo trovarla in Platone.
Al tramonto del mondo antico segue un nuovo periodo segnato dalla Wanderung delle stirpi germaniche: nasce una nuova civiltà che Spengler definisce “faustiana” caratterizzata da un ansia di “infinito” che si manifesta nella proiezione verticale delle cattedrali gotiche, poi nelle grandi esplorazioni, e ancora oggi nella continua ricerca del progresso scientifico e tecnologico, nella mistica del “record” sportivo. Ma questa civiltà è entrata ormai nella sua fase di avanzata Zivilisation: il passaggio del baricentro del potere agli ex coloni anglofoni d’America lo testimonia. Da qui il titolo suggestivo dell’opera Il Tramonto dell’Occidente.
Spengler preconizza l’avvento di una nuova civiltà russa. Essa avrà tratti più orientali, esprimerà di nuovo una tendenza magico-religiosa (in alternativa al materialismo occidentale). Riprenderà alcuni tratti del cristianesimo primitivo. Già oggi possiamo scorge i simboli architettonici di questa spiritualità russa: le chiese ortodosse o la fortezza del Cremlino con le loro cupole orientaleggianti. Nella civiltà russa il “noi” prevarrà sull’individualismo.
L’anima russa troverà il suo paesaggio caratteristico nella pianura sconfinata, che caratterizza l’immensa distesa di terra euro-russo-siberiana. Mentre l’anima faustiana occidentale tende al volontarismo e all’attivismo. L’anima russa può apparire “abulica”: essa è più ricettiva e contemplativa.
Spengler scriveva la sua opera sul finire della I guerra mondiale, quando in Russia si affermava una ideologia materialistica elaborata da un avvocato intellettualmente anglofilo. Oggi che tale ideologia appare remota e archiviata, a maggior ragione le intuizioni di Spengler manifestano tutto il loro vigore.
Le interpretazioni “laiche” di Spengler somigliano non poco alle visioni “esoteriche” di un autore, Rudolf Steiner, che in un primo tempo si era avvicinato alle esperienze della Società Teosofica per poi distaccarsene e fondare una sua personale concezione del mondo e della storia denominata “Antroposofia”.
Steiner concepiva il cammino dell’uomo articolato attraverso varie fasi di civiltà: di civiltà in civiltà l’anima umana si arricchiva e sviluppava le sue facoltà interiori[3]. Mentre le civiltà di Spengler erano organismi incomunicanti, quasi come delle monadi, le civiltà di Steiner formavano una catena e rappresentavano la manifestazione di quella che può essere considerata una concezione “provvidenziale” della storia.
Dopo le mitiche civiltà di Thule, Lemuria, Atlantide[4], l’umanità trovava il suo baricentro spirituale appunto in una serie di civiltà storiche che si succedevano da Oriente a Occidente, seguendo il corso del Sole.
La prima aveva sede in India. Steiner non si riferiva all’India storica frutto delle invasioni arye (che semmai ne riceveva l’eredità), ma ad una arcaica e misconosciuta civiltà che potrebbe coincidere con i resti di Harappa, e Mohenjo Daro. Questa civiltà viveva completamente immersa nella dimensione spirituale, coltivava una scienza spirituale che è proseguita nelle epoche successive con le varie codificazioni dello Yoga.
La seconda civiltà si sviluppava nella regione dell’altopiano iranico. In questa regione nasceva l’impulso a concepire un dualismo tra Luce e Tenebra, e a considerare l’uomo come un “guerriero dello spirito” che prende parte alla battaglia schierato con il Grande Dio della Luce. Sono i temi che successivamente si svilupperanno nella predicazione di Zarathustra. La terza civiltà si estendeva nella Mezzaluna che va dall’Egitto alla Mesopotamia. Era la civiltà dei grandi indagatori delle stelle, che scorgevano negli astri e nelle corrispondenze armoniche del cosmo il grande disegno divino.
La quarta civiltà è quella greco-romana. Qui il mondo terreno diventa importante. Nella scultura greca si celebra la forma perfettamente proporzionata del corpo umano. Nel diritto e nella politica il genio di Roma dà una forma ben regolata ai rapporti sociali. Proprio nel mezzo della civiltà greco-romana avviene l’Incarnazione del Logos sulla Terra, di cui parla il Vangelo di Giovanni.
La quinta civiltà è quella germanica: nasce nel Medio Evo con la Wanderung delle popolazioni germaniche. Questa civiltà si proietta oltre l’Atlantico, verso Occidente. E’ la civiltà che penetra nella materia attraverso la scienza naturale e la domina attraverso la tecnica. Essa trova il suo compimento nel dominio degli anglo-americani.
Ora secondo Steiner siamo a un punto di svolta. Se si assecondano gli impulsi della civiltà occidentale si prosegue verso un materialismo sempre più esasperato. Si va verso quello che Spengler avrebbe definito il Tramonto dell’Occidente. Ma Steiner presagisce l’avvento di una sesta civiltà, stavolta ad Oriente, nel grande spazio russo. Questa civiltà avrebbe segnato una rinascita spirituale. L’uomo di questa civiltà avrebbe sviluppato il Manas, ovvero un tipo di intelligenza spiritualizzata attraverso una nuova disciplina ascetica e una nuova “scienza dello spirito”. Come si vede sono i medesimi temi spengleriani che vengono rimeditati su una ottava più “sottile” e spiritualizzata. Nel libro Wie erlangt man Erkenntnisse der höheren Welten?, conosciuto in Italia come L’Iniziazione, Steiner indicava gli esercizi animici più adeguati allo sviluppo di nuove facoltà interiori, facoltà non previste dalla rigida scienza materialistica tipica dell’Occidente.
Moeller van den Bruck
Tra gli intellettuali che all’indomani della I guerra mondiale protestarono contro la “pace punitiva” imposta dal Trattato di Versailles, Arthur Moeller van den Bruck fu uno dei più importanti. Moeller era nato prussiano. E le sue bestie nere erano Versailles e Weimar: la pace decisamente ingiusta (a detta dello stesso Keynes) firmata a Versailles e il regime traballante che mai seppe dare stabilità politica alla Germania, nato a Weimar.
Con Weimar la Germania aveva cercato di scimmiottare le liberaldemocrazie occidentali. Ma per Moeller van den Bruck la vocazione della Germania era quella di essere “Terra di Mezzo” tra le democrazie occidentali e la Russia. Per tale motivo Moeller auspicava una collaborazione attiva tra Germania e Russia. Il grande talento tecnologico tedesco si sarebbe dovuto saldare con lo spazio di civiltà russo generando una grande blocco territoriale stabile, inattaccabile.
Moeller era discepolo di Dostoevskij e condivideva tutte le obiezioni del grande letterato russo alla decadente civilizzazione occidentale. Egli era antimarxista, ma non antibolscevico, per questo anche dopo che il regime bolscevico si era saldamente assestato auspicava una alleanza diplomatica tra Germania e URSS per rovesciare le inique conclusioni dei trattati di Parigi.
Per Moeller il prussianesimo rappresentava il ponte tra la Germania e la Russia. Essere prussiano non era un semplice dato naturalistico. I prussiani erano il frutto di una storia e di una volontà perpetuata nei secoli dall’Ordine Teutonico prima, dalla dinastia degli Hohenzollern poi. Come popolo i prussiani erano il frutto di una mescolanza: tra germanici e appunto slavi, per questo il prussianesimo rappresentava l’elemento di congiunzione tra Mitteleuropa ed Est.
Tutta la storia puntava peraltro ad Est. La storia antica aveva avuto il suo baricentro nel mondo mediterraneo. Agli albori dell’età moderna il baricentro si era spostato sull’Atlantico. Ora però la direzione dello sviluppo della civiltà europea si indirizzava verso Oriente. Se la Germania non coglieva questo elemento di sviluppo era destinata a legarsi alla decadente cultura di Anglo-americani e Francesi. Egli immaginava una sorta di corrente storica che in epoca antica attraversava il Mediterraneo, che agli albori dell’età moderna superava le colonne d’Ercole e si spingeva verso l’Atlantico e il nuovo mondo americano ed ora con un imponente riflusso ritornava verso Oriente.
“Questo Est – scriveva Moeller – tiene in riserva una parte notevole della futura storia dell’umanità: e noi che per metà apparteniamo all’est o per lo meno con esso confiniamo dobbiamo partecipare alla vita se vogliamo partecipare al futuro”.
Agli inizi degli anni Venti, il circolo politico-culturale di Moeller invitò Hitler. Il futuro Führer aveva davanti a sé poche persone sedute eppure intonò un comizio come se parlasse a migliaia di entusiasti. A Moller non fece una buona impressione. Non ebbe peraltro il tempo di assistere all’ascesa del nazionalsocialismo, dal momento che pose fine tragicamente alla propria esistenza nel 1925.
Moeller fu socialista prussiano. Auspicò un socialismo non marxista. E sperò che la Russia si liberasse dall’incrostazione della dottrina utilitarista di Marx. Oggi che il marxismo è archiviato, la prospettiva geopolitica di Moeller – l’integrazione tra Mitteleuropa e Russia – riacquista tutta la sua straordinaria attualità.
Karl Haushofer
Haushofer fu uno dei principali interpreti della Geopolitica tra prima e seconda guerra mondiale. Per lui, la geopolitica era la “coscienza geografica di uno Stato”.
Haushofer auspicava in primo luogo una soluzione pangermanica: la riunificazione di tutte le genti di lingua e cultura tedesca in un unico Stato; in seconda istanza, una sagace scelta delle alleanze, per evitare il rovinoso errore del 1914: la guerra su due fronti.
Per Haushofer il naturali alleati erano il Giappone e l’Unione Sovietica – che occupava il vasto territorio euroasiatico definito da Mackinder come Heartland (la roccaforte del mondo!).
Certo nei confronti dell’URSS Haushofer fu oscillante: in alcuni momenti l’URSS gli apparve come una minaccia da debellare e frantumare, in altri momenti riconobbe volentieri alla Russia bolscevica il diritto a espandersi in direzione Sud estendendo la sua influenza sull’India (allora sotto occupazione inglese).
Ad ogni modo il sagace geopolitico voleva evitare soprattutto che si ripetesse l’errore del 1914: la guerra sui due fronti e nel 1941 propose una grande alleanza euroasiatica tra Germania-URSS-Giappone … un attimo prima che Hitler scatenasse l’operazione Barbarossa contro l’URSS e dilapidasse le energie della Wermacht in una guerra suicida su due fronti[5].
I nazisti diedero una impronta brutale alla occupazione ad Est. Avrebbero potuto presentarsi come liberatori; avrebbero potuto far suonare a festa le campane delle chiese ortodosse. Avrebbero potuto costituire Stati Nazionali sul Baltico e in Ucraina promettendo ai Pope la libertà religiosa, garantendo ai socialisti che le sostanziali conquiste della rivoluzione d’Ottobre sarebbero state rispettate, e assicurando ai contadini quella libertà che sola è garantita dal possesso personale di un lembo di terra. Invece essi furono spietati in Polonia così come sul vasto territorio russo, dimostrando come il pregiudizio politico e razziale della NSDAP riuscisse a vanificare lo sforzo della più straordinaria macchina da guerra mai apparsa da secoli.
All’indomani della II guerra mondiale, Haushofer si suicidò insieme alla moglie. Certe anime tedesche troppo coscienziose si tirano addosso anche le colpe degli altri dopo averne mostrato in anticipo l’errore…
Carl Schmitt
Carl Schmitt già alla fine degli anni Quaranta considerava l’ideologia comunista come qualcosa di passeggero. L’esperimento sovietico era dunque destinato ad avere fine.
Più che dal sovietismo Schmitt era preoccupato dall’universalismo, da quello che oggi si chiamerebbe globalizzazione. Come già Evola, Schmitt notava una convergenza di fondo tra l’ideologia occidentalista e quella marxista-sovietica. Oggi uno dei due poli si è sbriciolato ed è rinata la Russia, libera dal terribile esperimento marxista.
Alla globalizzazione Schmitt contrapponeva il radicamento territoriale: l’amore per la natura, la terra ed i suoi frutti. Questo amore per Schmitt era anche l’effetto del cattolicesimo romano. Schmitt ribadiva ai suoi connazionali che lo Jus Publicum Europaeum molto doveva a Roma e al cattolicesimo.
Alle potenze del Mare (Inghilterra, America) egli contrapponeva il Nomos della Terra, ovvero la misura, l’equilibrio poltico, la legge che avrebbe dovuto animare un grande blocco territoriale.
Caduto il comunismo sovietico, questo blocco territoriale comincia ad essere una prospettiva concreta con l’integrazione economica, culturale-spirituale e poi anche politica tra Mitteleuropa, Europa Mediterranea e Russia.
Con questi cenni concludiamo la nostra rapida carrellata su cinque autori che sono cinque giganti del pensiero europeo. Tutti e cinque hanno saputo pensare quella che è l’esigenza geopolitica fondamentale del nostro tempo: l’integrazione tra Centro-Europa e Russia, per riscattare il nostro continente dalla irrilevanza o dalla sudditanza a interessi alieni.
Possiamo ricapitolare schematicamente le idee-forza che sono state messe in campo:
- La Russia lascia presagire lo sviluppo di una nuova civiltà (Spengler).
- Questa civiltà – in equilibrio tra Occidente e Asia – sarà più attenta all’elemento spirituale (Steiner).
- Tanto è vero che l’esperimento ideologico marxista, di marca occidentale, ha rappresentato per essa solo qualcosa di transitorio (Schmitt).
- Tra la civiltà faustiana-germanica e la nuova civiltà russa può esservi lo stesso legame che in passato vi era tra la civiltà classica greco-romana e la civiltà medievale europea, un rapporto di successione ed anche di armoniosa integrazione (Steiner).
- La Germania in particolare non è “Occidente”, non è una landa periferica dell’impero occidentale, ma è la Mitteleuropa destinata ad integrarsi con l’Est.
- La grande capacità tecnologica e organizzativa tedesca deve far lievitare le immense potenzialità del territorio russo (Moller van den Bruck).
- E’ necessaria una alleanza diplomatica e militare tra Germania e Russia. L’ideale sarebbe che questa alleanza si estendesse anche al Giappone. (Haushofer).
- Berlino oggi è tornata ad essere la capitale della Germania riunificata, ma Berlino era anche storica capitale della Prussia. Chi sono i Prussiani che hanno forgiato con Bismarck l’unità tedesca? Sono appunto il frutto di una storica mescolanza tra genti germaniche e slave (Moeller van den Bruck).
- Il paesaggio spirituale della nuova civiltà sarà la “pianura infinita” russo-sarmatica (Spengler).
- Questa pianura infinita si radica nell’elemento Terra: in questa immensa distesa di Terra si sviluppa un Nomos peculiare: una legge fatta di solidarietà sociale, di attaccamento alle radici, di amore per i frutti della Terra (Schmitt).
- Il Nomos della Terra perpetua ai nostri giorni la grande tradizione dello Ius Publicum romano, giunto a noi attraverso la mediazione del cattolicesimo romano (Schmitt).
Bibliografia
Piero Buscaroli, Paesaggio con rovine, Camunia. 1989.
Pascal Lorot, Storia della Geopolitica, Asterios, 1997.
John O’ Louglin, Dizionario di Geopolitica, Asterios, 2000.
Adriano Romualdi, Correnti politiche e ideologiche della destra tedesca dal 1918 al 1932, Settimo Sigillo, 2013.
Carl Schmitt, Cattolicesimo Romano e forma politica, Il Mulino, 2010.
Carl Schmitt , Il Nomos della Terra, Adelphi, 1991.
Carl Schmitt, Terra e Mare, Adelphi, 2002
Oswald Spengler, Il tramonto dell’Occidente, Longanesi, 2008.
Rudolf Steiner, La Scienza Occulta nelle sue linee generali, Mondadori, 2007.
Rudolf Steiner, L’Iniziazione, Edizioni Antroposofiche, 2012.
Note
[1] Piero Buscaroli in “Paesaggio con Rovine” testimonia come in certi ambienti dell’aristocrazia tedesca la proposta di Stalin e l’opzione neutralista suscitassero insospettabili simpatie.
[2] La data del 1989 che segna la caduta del Muro di Berlino chiude anche una cifra tonda di duecento anni di storia nel corso della quale si sono scatenate le grandi ideologie totalitarie: il giacobinismo, poi il comunismo, quindi il nazional-socialismo.
[3] Tale concezione si conciliava con la credenza induistica e platonica nella reincarnazione.
[4] Mitiche località preistoriche che affascinarono non poco gli occultisti europei all’inizio del Novecento come la Blavatsky, Guenon, Evola, Wirth.
[5] Va citata l’opinione di alcuni storici revisionisti, tra i quali il figlio del filosofo Heiddeger, che considerano l’operazione Barbarossa come una guerra preventiva, per sventare un attacco imminente da parte dell’URSS. E tuttavia l’idea che si faccia guerra per anticipare l’aggressione altrui è un argomento retorico antico di secoli… La questione è controversa. Più in generale i Tedeschi sono apparsi molto più sprovveduti degli Americani che con sagacia si sono fatti attaccare a Pearl Harbour per poi scatenare una controffensiva con tutta la vibrante indignazione dei “giusti” (in realtà Roosevelt sapeva dell’attacco e volentieri predispose il sacrificio umano dei ragazzi della base del Pacifico).
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jeudi, 10 avril 2014
Oswald Spengler, le théoricien du déclin de l'Occident
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jeudi, 13 février 2014
Elementos 61, 62, 63
ELEMENTOS Nº 62. REVISAR A SPENGLER: EL FUTURO YA ESTÁ AQUÍ
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Sumario.-
Oswald Spengler,
Oswald Spengler y la decadencia de la Civilización Faústica,
Revisar a Spengler. ¿De la filosofía de la vida a la filosofía de la crisis?,
Irracionalismo y culto a la tradición en el pensamiento de Spengler,
Oswald Spengler: la muerte del “Hombre” a comienzos del siglo XX, por Javier B. Seoane C.
El Socialismo de Oswald Spengler,
La Decadencia de Occidente y la novela utópica contemporánea, por Paulino Arguijo
Prusianismo y Socialismo en Spengler,
Decadencia y muerte del Espíritu Europeo. Volviendo la mirada hacia Oswald Spengler,
Guerra permanente, anti-pacifismo y elitismo en el pensamiento de Spengler,
Nihilismo, crisis y decadencia: Ortega frente a Spengler,
Años Decisivos: el distanciamiento definitivo del nacionalsocialismo,
La influencia de Spengler,
ELEMENTOS Nº 61. LA CONDICIÓN FEMENINA. ¿FEMINISMO O FEMINIDAD?
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00:03 Publié dans Nouvelle Droite, Revue | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : revue, nouvelle droite, elementos, oswald spengler, révolution conservatrice, théorie politique, féminisme, condition féminine | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mardi, 07 janvier 2014
Elementos 61 y 62: Spengler y Condicion femenina
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Sumario.-
Oswald Spengler,
Oswald Spengler, el hombre que veía más lejos,
Oswald Spengler y la decadencia de la Civilización Faústica,
Revisar a Spengler. ¿De la filosofía de la vida a la filosofía de la crisis?,
Irracionalismo y culto a la tradición en el pensamiento de Spengler,
Oswald Spengler: la muerte del “Hombre” a comienzos del siglo XX,
El Socialismo de Oswald Spengler,
La Decadencia de Occidente y la novela utópica contemporánea,
Prusianismo y Socialismo en Spengler,
Decadencia y muerte del Espíritu Europeo. Volviendo la mirada hacia Oswald Spengler,
Guerra permanente, anti-pacifismo y elitismo en el pensamiento de Spengler,
Nihilismo, crisis y decadencia: Ortega frente a Spengler,
Años Decisivos: el distanciamiento definitivo del nacionalsocialismo,
La influencia de Spengler,
ELEMENTOS Nº 61.
LA CONDICIÓN FEMENINA. ¿FEMINISMO O FEMINIDAD?
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00:05 Publié dans Nouvelle Droite, Révolution conservatrice, Revue | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : nouvelle droite, revue, oswald spengler, révolution conservatrice, condition féminine, féminisme | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 07 décembre 2013
The Faustian Soul & Western Uniqueness
The Faustian Soul & Western Uniqueness
By Domitius Corbulo
Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/
If I had to choose one word to explain why the West has been the most creative civilization it would be “Faustian.” My choice of this word hinges on the realization that the West has been following a unique cultural path since ancient times in the course of which it has exhibited far higher levels of achievement in all the intellectual, artistic, and heroic spheres of life.
The current academic consensus is that the West diverged from the Rest only with the onset of mechanized industry, use of inorganic sources of energy, and application of Newtonian science to industry. This consensus holds for both multiculturalist and Eurocentric historians. David Landes, Kenneth Pomeranz, Bin Wong, Joel Mokyr, Jack Goldstone, E.L. Jones, and Peer Vries all single out the Industrial Revolution of 1750/1830 as the point during which the “great divergence” occurred. It matters little how far back in time they trace this Revolution, or how much weight they assign to preceding developments such as the Scientific Revolution or the gains from the colonization of the Americas, their emphasis is on the “divergence” generated by the arrival of the steam engine.
Charles Murray’s Human Accomplishment:Pursuit of Excellence in the Arts and Sciences, 800 BC to 1950, informs us that ninety-seven percent of accomplishment in the sciences occurred in Europe and North America from 800 BC to 1950. It also informs us that, in the arts, Europe alone produced a far higher number of “significant figures” than the rest of the world combined. In music, “the lack of a tradition of named composers in non-Western civilization means that the Western total of 522 significant figures has no real competition at all” (Human Accomplishment, 259).
But Murray’s statistical analysis can only take us so far. He pays no attention to accomplishments in warfare, exploration, and heroic leadership. His definition of accomplishment includes only peaceful individuals carrying scientific experiments and creating artistic works. I think Europeans were exceptional also in their expansionist and exploratory behaviors. Both their “civilized” and “uncivilized” were inseparably connected to their peculiarly agonistic ethos of aristocratic individualism. The great men of Europe were all artists driven by an intensively felt desire for unmatched deeds. The “great ideas” – Archimedes’ “Give me a place to stand and with a lever I will move the whole world,” – Hume’s “love of literary fame, my ruling passion” – were associated with aristocratic traits, disputatiousness and defiant temperaments – no less than Cortez’s immense ambition for honour and glory, “to die worthily than to live dishonoured.”
Spengler has provided us with the best word to overcome the current naïve separation between a cultured/peaceable West and an uncivilized/antagonistic West with his image of a strikingly vibrant culture driven by a type of Faustian personality overflowing with expansive, disruptive, and imaginative impulses manifested in all the spheres of life.
Spengler believed that the “prime-symbol” of the Faustian soul was its “tendency towards the infinite,” and that this tendency found its “purest expression” in modern mathematics. The “infinite continuum,” the exponential logarithm and “its dissociation from all connexion with magnitude” and transference to a “transcendent relational world” were some of the words he used to describe Western mathematics. But Spengler also wrote of the “bodiless music” of the Western composer, “in which harmony and polyphony bring him to images of utter ‘beyondness’ that transcend all possibilities of visual definition”, and, before the modern era, of the Gothic “form-feeling” of “pure, imperceptible, unlimited space” (Decline of the West, trans. Charles Francis Atkinson, vol.1, Form and Actuality [Alfred Knopf, [1923] 1988: 53-90, 183-216).
Mathematicians no less than musicians were “artist-men” and these artists were exemplars of the “emancipation” of the Western soul from magnitude, from “servitude” to measureable lines and planes, from the “near and corporeal.” Spengler believed that this soul-type was first visible in medieval Europe, starting with Romanesque art, but particularly in the “spaciousness of Gothic cathedrals,” “the heroes of the Grail and Arthurian and Siegfried sagas, ever roaming in the infinite, and the Crusades,” including “the Hohenstaufen in Sicily, the Hansa in the Baltic, the Teutonic Knights in the Slavonic East, [and later] the Spaniards in America, [and] the Portuguese in the East Indies (Decline of the West, 183-216).
I will leave aside my disagreements with Spengler’s image of classical Greece and Rome as cultures that conceived things in terms of proportion and balance in recurring patterns, except to agree with Nietzsche that classical Greeks were singularly agonal, driven by a Promethean aristocratic ethos.
This soul was palpable in all the Western spheres of life – painting, politics, architecture, science, literature, poetry, exploration, warfare, and philosophy. There was something Faustian about all the great men of Europe, in real life or fiction: Hamlet, Richard III, Gauss, Newton, Nicolas Cusanus, Don Quixote, Goethe’s Werther, Gregory VII, Michelangelo, Paracelsus, Dante, Descartes, Don Juan, Bach, Wagner’s Parsifal, Haydn, Leibniz’s Monads, Giordano Bruno, Frederick the Great, Rembrandt, Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler. “The Faustian soul – whose being consists in the overcoming of presence, whose feeling is loneliness and whose yearning is infinity – puts its need of solitude, distance, and abstraction into all its actualities, into its public life, its spiritual and its artistic form-worlds alike” (Decline of the West, 386).
Christianity, too, became a thoroughly Faustian moral ethic. “It was not Christianity that transformed Faustian man, but Faustian man who transformed Christianity — and he not only made it a new religion but also gave it a new moral direction”: will-to-power in ethics (Decline of the West, 344). This “Faustian-Christian morale” produced “Christians of the great style — Innocent III, Loyola and Savonarola, Pascal and St. Theresa […] the great Saxon, Franconian and Hohenstaufen emperors . . . giant-men like Henry the Lion and Gregory VII . . . the men of the Renaissance, of the struggle of the two Roses, of the Huguenot Wars, the Spanish Conquistadores, the Prussian electors and kings, Napoleon, Bismarck, Rhodes” (Decline of the West, 348-49).
Spengler captured better than anyone else (though Hegel was a great anticipator) the West’s main protagonist: not a calmed, disinterested, rationalistic personality, but a highly energetic, restless, fateful being, unwilling to be limited by boundaries, determined to break through the unknown, supersede the norm and achieve mastery. Some other words and phrases Spengler used to describe the traits and aims of this soul were: “unrestrained,” “strong-willed,” “far-ranging,” “active, fighting, progressing,” “overcoming of resistances,” “against what is near, tangible and easy,” “the fierceness and joy of tension” (Decline of the West, 308-337).
The seemingly amorphous, immeasurable, and infinite concept of a Faustian soul is far better to explain Western uniqueness than the measurable but rather confined IQ concept. There is clearly a general link between IQ and cultural achievement. But IQ experts, J. Philippe Rushton and Richard Lynn, have yet to offer a sound explanation why Europeans achieved far more culturally than the East Asians with their higher average IQ. Rushton highlights Chinese priority in a number of technologies before the modern era. He points to the Chinese use of printing by the 9th century, “600 years before Europe saw Gutenberg’s first Bible.” He says the Chinese were using “flame throwers, guns, and cannons” by the 13th century, “about 100 years before Europe.” They were using the magnetic compass in the 1st century, “not found in European records until 1190.” “In 1422, seventy years before Columbus’s three small ships crossed the Atlantic, the Chinese reached the east coast of Africa,” with a fleet of 65 ships superior in size and technique.
Sounding like a multicultural revisionist, Rushton adds: “With their gunpowder weapons, navigation, accurate maps and magnetic compasses, the Chinese could easily have gone around the tip of Africa and ‘discovered’ Europe!” (Race, Evolution, and Behavior, 2nd Abridged Version, Charles Darwin Research Institute, 2000).
Even more, Rushton views the last five centuries of European superiority as a temporary deviation that is now being superseded by not only Japan but China, Taiwan, Singapore, and South Korea. Lynn has the same opinion. But they have not offered an answer as to why Europeans were responsible for almost every single advance and invention in modern times. East Asian creativity, they say, was kept under a lid by cultural norms and institutions that are now breaking down. But there are multiple problems with Rushton’s claims, staring with his very one-sided association of creativity with science and technology, and his exaggerations about Chinese technology prior to 1500. After the Sung era (960-1279), the Chinese ceased to be inventive, whereas it was the medieval Europeans who went on to make continuous improvements on the Chinese inventions Rushton mentions, and then added their own: spectacles, mechanical clocks, navigational techniques, gauges, micrometres, water mills, fine wheel cutters, and more. The Chinese possessed large junks but did not discover a single new nautical mile. The ancient Greeks were far more advanced in the theoretical sciences, geometry, deductive reasoning, not to mention their arts and humanities. The Romans were just as inventive technologically, progenitors of great military strategists and conquerors, and true innovators in jurisprudence. Chinese education is still backward, dogmatic, and this is why they send their students to the West. Europeans invented each and every discipline taught in our universities. Virtually every great philosopher, poet, painter, novelist, explorer in history is European.
We need an explanation for this incredible discrepancy. But what exactly is the Faustian soul? How do we connect it to Europe’s creativity? To what original source or starting place did Spengler attribute this yearning for infinity? He directed attention to the barbarian peoples of northern Europe. In Man and Technics, he wrote of how the Nordic climate forged a character filled with vitality, “an intellect sharpened to the most extreme degree, with the cold fervour of an irrepressible passion for struggling, daring, driving forward.” The Nordic character was a human biological being to be sure, but one animated with the spirit of a “proud beast of prey,” like that of an “eagle, lion, [or] tiger.” For this Nordic individual, “the concerns of life, the deed, became more important than mere physical existence.” He wants to climb high, soar upward and reach ever higher levels of existential intensity. Adaptation and reproduction are not enough (Man and Technics: A Contribution to a Philosophy of Life, Greenwood Press, 1976: 19-41).
But why a Faustian soul is attributed only to Europeans? Are their “primary emotions” really different from that of ordinary humans? A good way to start answering this question is to compare the idea of a Faustian soul with Immanuel Kant’s observations on the “unsocial sociability” of human beings. In his essay, “Idea for a Universal History from a Cosmopolitan Point of View,” Kant seemed somewhat puzzled but nevertheless attuned to the way progress in history had been driven by the fiercer, self-centred side of human nature. Looking at the wide span of history, he concluded that without the vain desire for honour, property, and status humans would have never developed beyond a primitive Arcadian existence of self-sufficiency and mutual love: “all human talents would remain hidden forever in a dormant state, and men, as good-natured as the sheep they tended, would scarcely render their existence more valuable than that of their animals. . . . [T]he end for which they were created, their rational nature, would be an unfulfilled void.”
There can no development of the human faculties, no high culture, without conflict, antagonism, and pride. It is these asocial traits, “vainglory,” “lust for power,” “avarice,” which awaken the dormant talents of humans and “drive them to new exertions of their forces and thus to the manifold development of their capacities.” Nature in her wisdom, “not the hand of an evil spirit,” created “the unsocial sociability of humans.”
But Kant never asked, in this context, why Europeans were responsible, in his own estimation, for most of the moral and rational progression in history. In another publication, Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View (1798), Kant did observe major differences in the psychological and moral character of races as exhibited in different places on earth. He ranked races accordingly, with Europeans at the top in “natural traits.” Still, Kant never connected his anthropology with his principle of asocial qualities.
Did “Nature” foster these asocial qualities evenly among the cultures of the world? While these “vices” – as we have learned today from evolutionary psychology — are genetically-based traits that evolved in response to long periods of adaptive selective pressures associated with the maximization of human survival, there is no reason to assume that the form and degree of these traits evolved evenly or equally among all the human races and cultures. It is my view that the asocial qualities of Europeans were different, more intense, acuter, strident, individuated.
I believe that this variation should be traced back to the aristocratic culture of Indo-Europeans. Indo-Europeans were a pastoral people from the Pontic-Caspian steppes who initiated the most mobile way of life in prehistoric times starting with the riding of horses and the invention of wheeled vehicles in the fourth millennium BC, together with the efficient exploitation of the “secondary products” of domestic animals (dairy products, textiles, harnessing of animals), large-scale herding, and the invention of chariots in the second millennium. By the end of the second millennium, even though Indo-Europeans invaded both Eastern and Western lands, only the Occident had been “Indo-Europeanized.”
Indo-Europeans were uniquely ruled by a class of free aristocrats grouped into war-bands. These bands were constituted associations of men operating independently from tribal or kinship ties, initiated by any powerful individual on the merits of his martial abilities. The relation between the chief and his followers was personal and contractual: the followers would volunteer to be bound to the leader by oaths of loyalty wherein they would promise to assist him while the leader would promise to reward them from successful raids. The most important value of Indo-European aristocrats was the pursuit of individual glory as members of their warbands and as judged by their peers. The Iliad, Beowulf, The Song of Roland, including such Irish, Icelandic and Germanic sagas as Lebor na hUidre, Njals Saga, Gisla Saga Sursonnar, The Nibelungenlied recount the heroic deeds and fame of aristocrats — these are the earliest voices from the dawn of Western civilization. Within this heroic ‘life-world’ the unsocial traits of humans took on a sharper, keener, individuated expression.
What about other central Asian peoples from the steppes such as the Mongols and Turks who produced a similar heroic literature? There are a number of substantial differences. First, the Indo-European epic and heroic tradition precedes any other tradition by some thousands of years, not just the Homeric and the Sanskrit epics but, as we now know with some certainty from such major books as M. L. West’s Indo-European Poetry and Myth, and Calvert Watkins’s How to Kill a Dragon: Aspects of IE Poetics (1995), going back to a prehistoric oral tradition. Second, IE poetry exhibits a keener grasp and rendition of the fundamentally tragic character of life, an aristocratic confidence in the face of destiny, the inevitability of human hardship and hubris, without bitterness, but with a deep joy. Third, IE epics show both collective and individual inspiration, unlike non-IE epics which show characters functioning only as collective representations of their communities. This is why in some IE sagas there is a clear author’s stance, unlike the anonymous non-IE sages; the individuality, the rights of authorship, the poet’s awareness of himself as creator, is acknowledged in many ancient and medieval European sagas.
But how do we connect the barbaric asocial traits of prehistoric Indo-European warriors to the superlative cultural achievements of Greeks and later civilized Europeans? Another German thinker, Nietzsche, provides us with the best insights to explain how the untamed agonistic ethos of Indo-Europeans was translated into civilized creativity. I am thinking of the fascinating idea, expressed in his early essay “Homer on Competition,” that civilized culture or convention (nomos) was not imposed on nature but was a sublimated continuation of the strife that was already inherent to nature (physis).The nature of existence is based on conflict and this conflict unfolded itself in human institutions and governments. Humans are not naturally harmonious and rational as Socrates had insisted; the nature of humanity is strife. Nietzsche argued against the separation of man/culture from nature: the cultural creations of humanity are expressions or aspects of nature itself.
But nature and culture are not identical; the artistic creations of humans, their norms and institutions, constitute a rechanneling of the destructive striving of nature into creative acts, which give form and aesthetic beauty to the otherwise barbaric character of natural strife. While culture is an extension of nature, it is also a form by which human beings conceal their cruel reality, and the absurdity and the destructiveness of their nature. This is what Nietzsche meant by the “dual character” of nature; humans restrain or sublimate their drives to create cultural artefacts as a way of coping with the meaningless destruction associated with striving.
Nietzsche, in another early publication, The Birth of Tragedy, referred to this duality of human existence, nomos and physis, as the “Apollonian and Dionysian duality.” The Dionysian symbolized the excessive and intoxicating strife which characterized human life in early tribal societies, whereas the Apollonian symbolized the restraint and rechanneling of conflict possible in state-organized societies. In the case of Greek society, during pre-Homeric times, Nietzsche envisioned a world in which there were no or few limits to the Dionysian impulses, a time of “lust, deception, age and death.” The Homeric and classical (Apollonian) inhabitants of city-states brought these primordial drives under “measure” and self-control. The emblematic meaning of the god Apollo was “nothing in excess.” Apollo was a provider of soundness of mind, a guardian against a complete descent into a state of chaos and wantonness. He was a redirector of the willful and hubristic yearnings of individuals into organized forms of warfare and higher levels of art and philosophy.
For Nietzsche, Greek civilization was not produced by a naturally harmonious character, or a fully moderated and pacified city-state. One of the major mix-ups all interpreters of the rise of the West fall into is to assume that Western achievements were about the overcoming and suppression of our Dionysian impulses. But Nietzsche is right: Greeks achieved their “civility” by rechanneling the destructive feuding and blood lust of their Dionysian past and placing their strife under certain rules, norms and laws. The limitless and chaotic character of strife as it existed in the state of nature was “civilized” when Greeks came together within a larger political horizon, but it was not repressed. Their warfare took on the character of an organized contest within certain limits and conventions. The civilized aristocrat was the one who, in exercising sovereignty over his powerful longings (for sex, booze, revenge, and any other kind of intoxicant) learned self-command and, thereby, the capacity to use his reason to build up his political power and rule those “barbarians” who lacked this self-discipline. The Greeks created their admirable culture while remaining at ease with their superlative will to strife.
To complete Nietzsche’s insights we need to add the historically based argument that the Greeks viewed the nature of existence as strife because of their background in an Indo-European state of nature where strife was the overriding ethos. There are strong reasons to believe that Nietzsche’s concept of strife is an expression of his own Western background and his study of the Western agonistic mode of thinking that began with the Greeks. One may agree that strife is in the “nature of being” as such, but it is worth noting that, for Nietzsche, not all cultures have handled nature’s strife in the same way and not all cultures have been equally proficient in the sublimated production of creative individuals or geniuses. Nietzsche thus wrote of two basic human responses to the horror of endless strife: the un-Hellenic tendency to renounce life in this world as “not worth living,” leading to a religious call to seek a life in the beyond or the after-world, or the Greek tragic tendency, which acknowledged this strife, “terrible as it was, and regarded it as justified.” The cultures that came to terms with this strife, he believed, were more proficient in the completion of nature’s ends and in the production of creative individuals willing to act in this world. He saw Heraclitus’ celebration of war as the father and king of the whole universe as a uniquely Greek affirmation of nature as strife. It was this affirmation which led him to say that “only a Greek was capable of finding such an idea to be the fundament of a cosmology.”
The Greek-speaking aristocrats had to learn to come together within a political community that would allow them to find some common ground and thus move away from the state of nature with its endless feuding and battling for individual glory. There would emerge in the 8th century BC a new type of political organization, the city-state. The greatness of Homeric and Classical Greece involved putting Apollonian limits around the indispensable but excessive and brutal Dionysian impulses of barbaric pre-Homeric Greeks. Ionian literature was far from the berserkers of the pre-Homeric world, but it was just as intensively competitive. The search for the truth was a free-for-all with each philosopher competing for intellectual prestige in a polemical tone that sought to discredit the theories of others while promoting one’s own. There were no Possessors of the Way in aristocratic Greece; no Chinese Sages decorously deferential to their superiors and expecting appropriate deference from their inferiors.
This agonistic ethos was ingrained in the Olympic Games, in the perpetual warring of the city-states, in the pursuit of a political career and in the competition among orators for the admiration of the citizens, and in the Athenian theatre festivals where a great many poets would take part in Dionysian competitions. It was evident in the sophistic-Socratic ethos of dialogic argument and the pursuit of knowledge by comparing and criticizing individual speeches, evaluating contradictory claims, competitive persuasion and refutation. In Descartes’s rejection of all prior knowledge and assertion of his autonomous intellect, “I think, therefore I am”, the transcendent mind, the self-determining ego, separated from any unity with nature and tradition. Spengler saw this ego expressing itself everywhere: in “the Viking infinity wistfulness” and their colonizing activities through the North Sea, the Atlantic, and the Black Sea; in the Portuguese and Spaniards who “were possessed by the adventured-craving for uncharted distances and for everything unknown and dangerous; in “the emigration to America,” “the Californian gold-rush,” “the passion of our Civilization for swift transit, the conquest of the air, the exploration of the Polar regions and the climbing of almost impossible mountain peaks” — “dramas of uncontrollable longings for freedom, solitude, immense independence, and of giantlike contempt for all limitations.”
“These dramas are Faustian and only Faustian. No other culture, not even the Chinese, knows them” (Decline of the West, 335-37).
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mardi, 29 octobre 2013
Spengler e l’anima russa
Spengler e l’anima russa
La Russia antica e la “pseudomorfosi” illuminista
Nel Tramonto dell’Occidente[1], Oswald Spengler si sofferma ampiamente sulle peculiarità dell’anima russa. Tale analisi è collocata nella seconda parte dell’opera, che si intitola “Prospettive della storia mondiale”[2], la prima parte essendo dedicata a “Forma e realtà”, ove delinea la sua visione ciclica della storia, definisce l’“anima” di ogni civiltà, con le famose fasi, l’una ascendente (Kultur) e l’altra discendente (Zivilisation) di ogni ciclo storico, per poi tracciare una morfologia comparata delle civiltà che offre un grande scenario di macrostoria [3].
Altrettanto interessante e stimolante è l’applicazione del metodo comparativo spengleriano per studiare e decifrare l’affinità morfologica che connette interiormente la lingua delle forme di tutti i domini interni ad una data civiltà, dall’arte alla matematica alla geometria, al pensiero filosofico e al linguaggio delle forme della vita economica, essa stessa espressione di una data “anima”, ossia di un “sentimento del mondo” che contraddistingue un certo tipo di sensibilità.
In questa prospettiva, anche i fatti politici, assumono il valore di potenti simboli; per Spengler occorre saper cogliere che cosa significa il loro apparire, l’ “anima” di cui essi sono espressione.
Pseudomorfosi
Nella seconda parte dell’opera, l’Autore colloca lo studio dell’anima russa nel capitolo sulle pseudomorfosi storiche ed è partendo da questa categoria spengleriana che si può comprendere il suo modo di descrivere il mondo russo.
Per spiegare la pseudomorfosi, Spengler parte da una nozione di mineralogia. Egli attinge ad un fenomeno naturale per spiegare e definire un fenomeno storico, in ciò accogliendo un procedimento di osservazione scientifico-naturalistico tipico di Goethe, al quale esplicitamente si richiama nella prima parte della sua opera.
“Si supponga uno strato di calcare che contenga cristalli di un dato minerale. Si producono crepacci e fessure; l’acqua si infiltra e a poco a poco, passando, scioglie e porta via i cristalli, di modo che nel conglomerato non restano più che le cavità da essi occupate. Sopravvengono fenomeni vulcanici che fendono la montagna; colate di materiale incandescente penetrano negli spacchi, si solidificano e danno luogo ad altri cristalli. Ma esse non possono farlo in una forma propria: sono invece costrette a riempire le cavità preesistenti, e così nascono forme falsate, nascono cristalli nei quali la struttura interna contraddice la conformazione esterna, un dato minerale apparendo ora sotto le specie esteriori di un altro. E’ ciò che i mineralogisti chiamano pseudomorfosi” [4].
Dalla nozione di mineralogia passa quindi alle pseudomorfosi storiche.
“Chiamo pseudomorfosi storiche i casi nei quali una vecchia civiltà straniera grava talmente su di un paese che una civiltà nuova, congenita a questo paese, ne resta soffocata e non solo non giunge a forme sue proprie e pure di espressione, ma nemmeno alla perfetta coscienza di sé stessa. Tutto ciò che emerge dalle profondità di una giovane animità va a fluire nelle forme vuote di una vita straniera; una giovane sensibilità si fissa in opere annose e invece dell’adergersi in una libera forza creatrice nasce soltanto un odio sempre più vivo per la costrizione che ancora si subisce da parte di una realtà lontana nel tempo”[5].
Di questo fenomeno Spengler ci offre vari esempi quali la civiltà araba – che egli fa risalire, come sentimento del mondo, al III secolo a.C. – che fu costretta e soffocata nelle forme di una civiltà straniera, quale quella macedone col suo relativo dominio (impresa di Alessandro Magno e civiltà ellenistica).
Non è questa la sede per esaminare la pseudomorfosi araba, perché tale tema ci porterebbe lontano, considerando la peculiarità della visione storica spengleriana, rispetto allo specialismo della storiografia occidentale del suo tempo con la quale egli polemizza e argomenta in modo approfondito.
Altra pseudomorfosi è quella che inizia con la battaglia di Azio del 31 a. C.
“Qui non si trattò di una lotta per la supremazia della romanità o dell’ellenismo; una lotta del genere era stata già combattuta a Canne e a Ama, ove ad Annibale toccò il destino tragico di battersi non per la sua patria bensì per l’ellenismo. Ad Azio la nascente civiltà araba si trovò di fronte alla civilizzazione antica senescente. Si doveva decidere il trionfo dello spirito apollineo o di quello magico, degli dei o del Dio, del principato o del califfato. La vittoria di Antonio avrebbe liberato l’anima magica; invece la sua sconfitta ebbe per conseguenza che sul paesaggio di tale anima si riaffermarono le rigide, disanimate strutture del periodo imperiale”[6].
Pseudomorfosi russa
Un ulteriore esempio di pseudomorfosi ce lo offre la Russia di Pietro il Grande. L’anima russa originaria si esprime nelle saghe di Kiev riguardanti il principe Vladimiro (verso il 1000 d. C.) con la sua Tavola Rotonda e l’eroe popolare Ilja di Muros. Qui il pensatore tedesco coglie l’immensa differenza fra anima russa e anima faustina (ossia quella europea tesa verso l’infinito e simboleggiata dalle cattedrali gotiche) nel divario che intercorre fra tali poemi slavi e quelli sincronici – rispetto ad essi – della saga di Malthus e dei Nibelunghi del periodo delle invasioni “nella forma dell’epica di Ildebrando”[7].
Il periodo “merovingio” russo (ossia il periodo aurorale) inizia con la liberazione dal dominio tartaro di Ivan III (1480) e si sviluppa attraverso gli ultimi Rurik e i primi Romanov fino a Pietro il Grande (1689-1725). Esso corrisponde al periodo che va, in Francia, da Clodoveo(465-511) fino alla battaglia di Testry (687) con la quale i Carolingi si assicurano il potere effettivo. Spengler coglie qui un’affinità morfologica.
“A questo periodo moscovita delle grandi stirpi bojare e dei patriarchi, durante il quale un partito della Vecchia Russia lottò continuamente contro gli amici della civiltà occidentale, segue, con la fondazione di Pietroburgo (1703) la pseudomorfosi, la quale impose all’anima russa primitiva le forme straniere dell’alto Barocco, poi quelle dell’illuminismo e infine quelle del diciannovesimo secolo. Pietro il Grande fu fatale per la civiltà russa. Si pensi alla sua corrispondenza “sincronica”, a Carlomagno, che metodicamente e con tutte le sue energie attuò ciò che Carlo Martello pochi anni prima aveva scongiurato con la sua vittoria sugli Arabi; il sopravvento dello spirito mauro-bizantino”[8].
Nella visione spengleriana, Pietro il Grande impone alla Russia una forma che non le è congeniale, che è lontana dallo spirito contadino, antico, mistico e religioso della Vecchia Russia. Carlomagno avrebbe mutuato in Occidente una forma mauro-bizantina (l’Impero, la struttura gerarchizzata sul modello romano-orientale) che non sarebbe stata congeniale all’Europa dell’alto Medio Evo (adopero questa periodizzazione per farmi intendere, anche se essa non è affatto spengleriana).
Qui lo studioso tedesco introduce una riflessione che è di rilievo centrale e che contribuisce a far comprendere anche la storia della Russia contemporanea.
“Lo zarismo primitivo di Mosca è l’unica forma che ancor oggi sia conforme alla natura russa, ma esso a Pietroburgo fu falsato nella forma dinastica propria all’Europa occidentale. La tendenza verso il Sud sacro, verso Bisanzio e Gerusalemme, profondamente radicata in tutte le anime greco-ortodosse, si trasformò in una diplomazia mondana, in uno sguardo rivolto verso l’Occidente … Furono importate arti e scienze tarde, l’illuminismo, l’etica sociale, il materialismo cosmopolita, benché in questo primo periodo del ciclo russo la religione fosse l’unica lingua nella quale ognuno comprendeva se stesso e comprendeva il mondo” [9].
Questa imposizione di un modello straniero generò un sentimento di odio “davvero apocalittico” contro l’Europa, intendendo con tale termine tutto quanto non era russo, anche Roma e Atene, insomma l’Occidente nella varietà ed anche nell’antichità delle sue manifestazioni.”La prima condizione a che il sentimento nazionale russo si liberi è odiare Pietroburgo con tutto il cuore e con tutta l’anima” scriveva Aksakoff a Dostoevskij.
In altri termini, Mosca è sacra, Pietroburgo è Satana e Pietro il Grande, in una leggenda popolare, viene presentato come l’Anticristo[10].
Tolstoi e Dostoevskij
Per Spengler, se si vogliono comprendere i due grandi interpreti della pseudomorfosi russa, occorre vedere in Dostoevskij il contadino, in Tolstoi l’uomo cosmopolita.
“L’uno non poté mai liberarsi interiormente dalla campagna, l’altro la campagna, malgrado ogni suo disperato sforzo, non riusci mai a ritrovarla”[11].
Qui la lettura di Spengler diviene dirompente e innovativa, con tratti tipici da “rivoluzione conservatrice”.
Egli considera, infatti, Tolstoi come la Russia del passato e Dostoevskij come simbolo della Russia dell’avvenire, il che equivale a dire che l’anima contadina antica della Russia, l’anima legata al sentimento delle radici e delle tradizioni, rappresenta l’avvenire, mentre lo spirito cosmopolita e illuminista, di stampo occidentale moderno, è destinato a tramontare.
Peraltro, questa spirito cosmopolita era profondamente divorato da un odio viscerale contro un’Europa moderna da cui non poteva liberarsi, essendovi profondamente legato. In altri termini, una sorta di amore/odio verso l’Europa.
“Tolstoi odiò potentemente l’Europa da cui non poteva liberarsi. Egli l’odiò in sé stesso e odiò se stesso. Per questo fu il padre del bolscevismo[12]..
Dostoevskij, al contrario, non nutrì un tale odio ma un fervido amore per tutto ciò che è occidentale, nel senso delle antiche radici culturali dell’Europa.
“Un simile odio Dostoevskij non lo conobbe. Egli nutrì un amore altrettanto fervido per tutto quello che è occidentale. “Io ho due patrie, la Russia e L’Europa”[13]. Questa affermazione dello scrittore russo è molto sintomatica delle sue inclinazioni. Spengler passa poi a citare un brano del romanzo I Fratelli Karamazov che è molto eloquente circa quello che lo scrittore russo intende per richiamo interiore verso l’Europa.
“Partirò per l’Europa – dice Ivan Karamazov al fratello Alioscia – io so di non andare che verso un cimitero, ma so anche che questo cimitero mi è caro, che è il più caro di tutti i cimiteri. I nostri sacri morti sono seppelliti là, ogni pietra delle loro tombe parla di una vita passata così fervida, di una fede così appassionata nelle azioni che hanno compiute, nelle loro verità, nelle loro lotte e nelle loro conoscenze che io, lo so di già, mi prosternerò per baciare quelle pietre e per piangere su di esse”[14]
L’Europa, per Dostoevskij, è quella delle radici antiche, della memoria storica, dell’identità, degli avi, delle antiche fedi e delle antiche lotte. In altri termini, l’Europa non è quella dell’illuminismo cui guardava Pietro il Grande, ma esattamente il contrario.
Mentre Tolstoi si muove nell’ottica dell’economia politica e dell’etica sociale, in una dimensione intellettualistica, tipicamente occidentale e moderna, Dostoevskij era al di là delle categorie occidentali, comprese quelle di rivoluzione e di conservatorismo.
“Per lui fra conservatorismo e rivoluzione – scrive Spengler – non vi era differenza alcuna: entrambi erano per lui fenomeni occidentali. Lo sguardo di una tale anima si librava di là da tutto quanto è sociale. Le cose di questo mondo gli apparivano così insignificanti, che egli non dette alcuna importanza al tentativo di migliorarle. Nessuna vera ragione vuole migliorare il mondo dei fatti. Come ogni vero Russo, Dostoevskij un tale mondo non lo nota affatto: gli uomini come lui vivono in un secondo mondo, in un mondo metafisico esistente di là da esso. Che cosa hanno a che vedere i tormenti di un’anima col comunismo?” [15]
Spengler conclude asserendo che “il Russo autentico è un discepolo di Dostoevskij benché non lo abbia letto, anzi proprio perché non sa leggere. Lui stesso è un pezzo di Dostoevskij”[16]
Per Spengler il cristianesimo sociale di Tolstoi era intriso di marxismo; Tolstoi parlava di Cristo ma intendeva Marx, mentre “al cristianesimo di Dostoevskij appartiene invece il millennio che viene”[17]
L’analisi spengleriana si proietta nel futuro, anticipando di circa un secolo gli sviluppi della storia russa, in un momento storico in cui trionfava il bolscevismo e tutto sembrava andare in direzione contraria. Il punto è capire cosa intenda Spengler per “cristianesimo di Dostoevskij”. Lo studioso tedesco ha fatto riferimento a questa vocazione mistica che trascende il mondo dei fenomeni, dei fatti, ai quali l’anima russa non attribuisce un valore decisivo, il mondo metafisico essendo l’oggetto di interesse centrale e prioritario.
“L’immensa differenza fra anima faustiana e anima russa si tradisce già nel suono di certe parole. Il termine russo per cielo è njèbo ed è negativo nel suo n. L’uomo d’Occidente volge il suo sguardo verso l’alto, mentre il Russo fissa i lontani orizzonti. Occorre dunque vedere la differenza dell’impulso verso la profondità dell’uno e dell’altro nel fatto che nel primo esso è una passione di penetrare da ogni lato nello spazio infinito, nel secondo è un esteriorizzarsi fino a che l’elemento impersonale nell’uomo si faccia uno con la pianura senza fine…La mistica russa non ha nulla di quel fervore, proprio al gotico, a Rembrandt, a Beethoven, che si porta verso l’alto e che può svilupparsi fino ad un giubilo che invade il cielo. Qui Dio non è la profondità azzurra delle altezze. L’amore mistico russo è quello della pianura, quello verso fratelli che subiscono lo stesso giogo, sempre nella direzione terrestre; è quello per i poveri animali tormentati che vagano sulla terra, per le piante, mai per gli uccelli, per le nubi e per le stelle” [18].
Il cristianesimo russo-ortodosso è, dunque, per Spengler, un misticismo della Madre Terra, dell’immensa pianura, degli spazi sconfinati.
Fra Spengler e Steiner
Introduco qui alcune mie riflessioni. Questa pianura sconfinata è geograficamente - e simbolicamente - un ponte fra Oriente e Occidente. La Russia è una terra che sente storicamente il richiamo di Bisanzio, ossia dell’Impero Romano d’Oriente, come ho dimostrato nei miei contributi su Toynbee e su Zolla ed il loro modo di intendere l’anima russa e i suoi archetipi.
La Russia risente, però, anche di influssi spirituali e culturali spiccatamente orientali.
Un fenomeno che merita di essere osservato con attenzione è quello dell’attuale diffusione del buddhismo in Russia (di cui abbiamo testimonianze e riscontri anche qui in Italia presso i centri buddhisti frequentati dai russi provenienti direttamente dalla loro terra), particolarmente di quello tibetano che, nella sua iconografia e nel suo simbolismo, è segnato da figure luminose, da un senso di chiarità e di Luce spirituale che tradisce anche antiche influenze iraniche, come Filippani Ronconi ha evidenziato in Zarathustra e il Mazdeismo [19].
Questa “mistica della Luce” (adopero qui tale termine in un senso lato, non tecnico) si incontra necessariamente col misticismo della Madre Terra, con propensioni tipiche dell’anima slava.
È a questo punto che va considerata la previsione di Rudolf Steiner, secondo il quale in Russia rinascerà la religione di Zarathustra[20] , ossia una nuova mistica della Luce ed un nuovo sentimento del mondo, quello della lotta fra Luce e Tenebre nella storia, nella dimensione terrena, in forme adatte ad un ben diverso contesto storico, etnico e geografico rispetto a quello in cui maturò la riforma spirituale del Profeta iranico. Nella morfologia delle civiltà di Steiner la civiltà russa sarebbe la sesta civiltà – quella del futuro – dopo le prime cinque (Indiana, Iranica, Egizio-Caldaica-Babilonese, greco-romana, anglo-tedesca) che nel loro susseguirsi denotano una sorta di movimento pendolare da est ad ovest e poi di nuovo verso est. Una tale previsione sulla rinascita della religione di Zarathustra può avere una sua plausibilità ove si consideri appunto la posizione di ponte che la terra russa ha fra Oriente e Occidente e quindi simbolicamente di collegamento, di raccordo spirituale e culturale.
Il bolscevismo aveva significato, per un arco di 70 anni, una interruzione nella comunicazione spirituale fra Oriente e Occidente, un blocco materialistico, nel che può vedersi l’azione di influenze non meramente profane, secondo quella dimensione di profondità della storia che è tipica del “metodo tradizionale”di cui Evola ha parlato ampiamente in Rivolta contro il mondo moderno e sul quale chi scrive è tornato ampiamente ne I Misteri del Sole.
Un tale culto della Luce, ove un domani dovesse diffondersi, dovrà necessariamente innestarsi sul “sentimento della pianura” costitutivo dell’anima russa, per dirla con Spengler, e cogliere nella Madre Terra – la “Santa Madre Russia” – il teatro di una lotta fra Luce e Tenebre, fra Verità e Menzogna, fra elevazione dello spirito e demonìa della materia e dell’economia.
Si colgono, in definitiva, i primi segni premonitori – dal Buddhismo al rilancio dell’Ortodossia – dell’affiorare graduale di una nuova “forma spirituale” che ha profonde connessioni col risveglio del sentimento nazionale russo, di un forte senso delle proprie tradizioni e della propria identità che si esprime oggi nella linea politica di Putin e nel suo rilancio del ruolo di grande potenza della Russia, della sua proiezione mediterranea, del suo interagire e fare blocco con le nazioni del BRICS.
La stessa legislazione contraria alla propaganda dei gay, il rifiuto di Putin a dare i bambini russi in adozione alle coppie gay in Occidente, il forte richiamo alla tradizione religiosa russo-ortodossa, l’opposizione al “politicamente corretto”, sono tutti fatti politici sintomatici di un risveglio dell’anima russa, quella antica, interpretata e sentita da Dostoevskij.
I fatti politici, come diceva Spengler, vanno letti nella loro valenza simbolica, cogliendo i fermenti profondi di cui essi sono espressione e cercando d’intuire e anticipare le linee di tendenza che essi prefigurano.
[1] L’opera è del 1917 in prima edizione; la traduzione che ho consultato e studiato fa riferimento alla seconda edizione del 1923.
[2] O.Spengler, Il Tramonto dell’Occidente, Guanda, Parma, 1991, p. 653 ss.
[3] Id., op.cit., p. 89 ss.
[4] Id., op.cit., p.927.
[5] Id., op.cit., pp.927-928
[6] Id., op .cit., pp. 930-931.
[7] Id., op.cit., p.932.
[8] Id., op.cit., p.932.
[9] Id., op.cit., pp.932-933.
[10] Id., op.cit., p. 934.
[11] Id., op.cit., p.934.
[12] Id., op.cit., p. 936.
[13] Id., op.cit., p. 936
[14] Id., op.cit., p.936.
[15] Id., op.cit., p.937.
[16] Id., op.cit., p. 939.
[17] Id., op.cit., p.939.
[18] Id., op.cit., nt.178, pp.1459-1460.
[19] P. Filippani Ronconi, Zarathustra e il Mazdeismo, Irradiazioni, Roma, 2007.
[20] R. Steiner, Miti e Misteri dell’ Egitto rispetto alle forze spirituali attive nel presente, Antroposofica, Milano, 2000.
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jeudi, 18 avril 2013
Oswald Spengler. The decline of the West.
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samedi, 03 novembre 2012
L'article intitulé “Oswald Spengler”, dans Stur, 1937
L'article intitulé "Oswald Spengler" dans Stur, 1937
Il y a aujourd’hui plus d’un an, mourait à Munich l’un des hommes qui ont le plus fait, dans la crise profonde de la défaite allemande, pour maintenir intact le moral du pays et rendre possible un redressement : celui que nous voyons se développer sous nos yeux. Cet homme est en outre un cerveau de premier ordre, un de ces savants gigantesques, — comme il en apparaît quelques-uns au cours de l’histoire de l’Europe, depuis Roger Bacon jusqu’à Vinci, Descartes, Newton… — sorte de Titan spirituel, sur les découvertes duquel repose, avouée ou non, presque toute l’orientation de la pensée contemporaine.
Ce philosophe — puisque les travaux historiques d’Oswald SPENGLER sont en quelque sorte « enveloppés » dans une philosophie — a été cependant assez peu remarqué en France, dans la période qui a suivi immédiatement la dernière guerre . En Allemagne, son Déclin de l’Occident (Untergang des Abendlandes) a connu un succès sans précédent pour un ouvrage aussi sévère, puisqu’il dépasse aujourd’hui le 15e mille — succès d’actualité, mais également succès de profondeur. Le livre venait « à son heure », au moment où la défaite semblait contredire les aspirations de la grande majorité des Allemands et les livrer au désespoir ; il leur démontrait, par l’alliance d’une immense érudition et d’une pensée rigoureuse, l’inanité de la philosophie du progrès généralement admise et les voies qu’ils devaient adopter désormais, s’ils voulaient se relever. Aujourd’hui, les idées de Spengler ont disparu au second plan, dépassées qu’elles sont par la poussée plus apparente des sentiments de race, des mystiques de l’ordre, voire même de la pure apologie de la force. Elles n’en subsistent pas moins dans le domaine intellectuel — face à l’expansion véritablement angoissante du raisonnement matérialiste dans la masse des peuples blancs — comme l’expression profonde et authentique de tous les jeunes mouvements révolutionnaires, de ceux qui ne veulent pas subir la « mécanisation » envahissante, et qui ne la subiront pas.
Il serait temps qu’en Bretagne, cet ensemble de découvertes de l’ordre psychologique soit pris à sa juste valeur, que l’âme celtique soit mise désormais, et maintenue irrémédiablement, en face d’un système qui lui est si intimement apparenté, et qui, convenablement appliqué, peut faire jaillir son renouveau.
Oswald Spengler est né en 1880, dans la petite ville de Blankenburg-en-Harz. De confession luthérienne, comme un grand nombre de ces compatriotes, il fit des études littéraires et scientifiques très complètes aux grandes Universités de Halle, Munich, Berlin, et il fut reçu docteur en philosophie en 1904 avec une thèse sur l’ancien penseur grec Héraclite d’Ephèse.
Il nous raconte lui-même, dans l’Introduction de son grand ouvrage (parag. XVI), comment il fut amené dans les années qui précèdent la guerre de 1914, à concevoir toute l’étendue de son système de l’histoire :
Les approches d’un grand conflit européen ne lui ont pas échappé, cette marche fatale des événements l’inquiète : « …En 1911, étudiant certains événements politiques du « temps présent, et les conséquences qu’on en pouvait « tirer pour l’avenir, je m’étais proposé de rassembler « quelques éléments tirés d’un horizon plus large. » En historien, il tente de comprendre sans parti-pris, de s’expliquer les tendances actuelles à l’aide de son expérience des faits anciens : « …Au cours de ce travail, d’abord restreint, la conviction s’était faite en moi que, pour comprendre réellement notre époque, il fallait une documentation beaucoup plus vaste… Je vis clairement qu’un problème politique ne pouvait pas se comprendre par la politique même et que des éléments essentiels, qui y jouent un rôle très profond, ne se manifestent souvent d’une manière concrète que dans le domaine de l’art, souvent même uniquement dans la forme des idées… Ainsi, le thème primitif prit des proportions considérables. »
L’histoire de l’Europe lui apparaît dès lors sous un jour tout nouveau : « …Je compris qu’un fragment d’histoire ne pouvait être réellement éclairci avant que le mystère de l’histoire universelle en général ne fût lui-même tiré au clair…; Je vis le présent (la guerre mondiale imminente) sous un jour tout différent. Ce n’était plus une figure exceptionnelle, qui n’a lieu qu’une fois…, mais le type d’un tournant de l’histoire qui avait depuis des siècles sa place prédéterminée. »
Un système s’est fait en son esprit, qui ne lui laisse plus de doutes sur la marche générale de l’histoire — et point seulement celle de notre civilisation européenne : « …Plus de doute… : l’identité d’abord bizarre, puis évidente, entre la perspective de la peinture à l’huile, l’imprimerie, le système de crédit, les armes à feu, la musique contrepointique et, d’autre part, la statue nue, la polis, la monnaie grecque d’argent, en tant qu’expressions diverses d’un seul et même principe psychique. » Chaque civilisation suit un cours qui lui est propre, avec une rigueur entière et véritablement impressionnante.
Du même coup, il a saisi le sens profond de l’inquiétude de l’homme moderne et il en ressent comme une assurance, délivré qu’il est de ses manifestations multiples et contradictoires : « …Une foule de questions et de réponses très passionnées, paraissant aujourd’hui dans des milliers de livres et de brochures, mais éparpillées, isolées, ne dépassant pas l’horizon d’une spécialité, et qui par conséquent enthousiasment, oppressent, embrouillent, mais sans libérer, marquent cette grande crise… Citons la décadence de l’art, le doute croissant sur la valeur de la science ; les problèmes ardus nés de la victoire de la ville mondiale sur la campagne : dénatalité, exode rural, rang social du prolétariat en fluctuation ; la crise du matérialisme, du socialisme, du parlementarisme, l’attitude de l’individu envers l’Etat ; le problème de la propriété et celui du mariage, qui en dépend ; …Chacun y avait deviné quelque chose, personne n’a prouvé, de son point de vue étroit, la solution unique générale qui planait dans l’air depuis Nietzsche… »
« …La solution se présenta nettement à mes yeux, en traits gigantesques, avec une entière nécessité intérieure, reposant sur un principe unique qui restait à trouver, qui m’avait hanté et passionné depuis ma jeunesse et qui m’affligeait parce que j’en sentais l’existence sans pouvoir l’embrasser. C’est ainsi que naquit, d’une occasion quelque peu fortuite, ce livre… Le thème restreint est donc une analyse du déclin de la culture européenne d’Occident, répandue aujourd’hui sur toute la surface du globe. »
Tout l’essentiel de la théorie spenglérienne de l’histoire est exposé en trois tableaux synoptiques, au début du premier tome de son « Déclin de l’Occident » : On y suit une comparaison systématique du développement, sur 1000 années environ, des deux civilisations gréco-romain (Antiquité) et européenne (Occident), du triple point de vue de la pensée abstraite, de l’art et des formes du gouvernement. Il en ressort la notion de l’âge des civilisations : une phase de jeunesse, notre Gothique (Moyen Age), à laquelle succède la maturité, notre Baroque (Epoque Moderne), puis la vieillesse au milieu de laquelle nous vivons (Epoque Contemporaine). C’est la même succession des formes doriennes, puis ioniennes, puis « romaines » dans le monde méditerranéen depuis les temps homériques jusqu’à l’avènement d’Auguste ? Des parallèles avec ce que nous savons des philosophie hindoues, de l’art égyptien ou des révolutions de l’ancienne Chine confirment cette impression du « cyclisme » de l’histoire humaine.
Le corps même de l’ouvrage n’est qu’une longue et savante justification de ce qui vient d’être avancé : justification métaphysique, en un premier tome, de divers problèmes logiques soulevés par un pareil système; en particulier celui de la continuité de la notion de Nombre à travers les diverses civilisations ; d’autre part, la définition de l’idée historique du Destin face à la Causalité scientifique… Un second tome renferme la justification érudite de plusieurs des assertions historiques du système : en particulier, l’existence d’une civilisation « arabe » durant le premier millénaire de notre Ere qui est en effet l’époque de floraison des grandes religions universelles de souche « sémitique » (christianisme, manichéisme, islam, judaïsme talmudique) . Spengler ne distingue pas moins de huit grandes civilisations qui se sont succédées en divers points du globe jusqu’à nos jours: civilisations égyptienne, mésopotamienne, chinoise, hindoue, gréco-romaine, orientale-arabe, mexicaine et occidentale-européenne, celle que nous vivons encore. Il tend à réserver le nom de «culture» à la période première de ces civilisations, pleine encore de sève et d’invention, pour laisser plus spécialement le nom de « civilisation » a leur phase de dissolution, quand disparait, dans l’impuissance, tout ce que des ancêtres vigoureux ont créé.
Il ne convient pas de surestimer l’originalité du système : pareil sentiment du cycle, de la fatalité, se retrouve à travers toute la spéculation germanique voire même européenne, depuis la foi calviniste en la Prédestination jusqu’au moyen nietzschéen du « retour éternel ». Et l’ancienne littérature des Celtes d’Irlande n’est-elle pas l’expression la plus absolue de ce sens du destin, héroïquement accepté ? C’est Spengler lui-même qui nous avertit de ce qu’il doit à Nietzsche dont il a seulement, dit-il, « changé les échappées en aperçus ». De façon plus générale, cette pensée d’historien se rattache à tout le mouvement de spéculation sur le temps, sur la durée, aux diverses « philosophies de la vie » fort en honneur depuis le début du siècle et dont H. Bergson serait en France le plus illustre représentant («L’Evolution créatrice»). W. Dilthey, en Allemagne, s’était engagé dans des voies similaires dès 1883, par sa curieuse «Introduction aux sciences morales». Nombreux ont été les historiens, les ethnologues allemands qui, dans le même temps, se sont efforcés de rechercher les lois de l’histoire universelle d’accord avec les résultats les plus poussés des sciences d’érudition : notons le grand explorateur africain Léo Frobenius, auteur d’un ouvrage fort remarqué . A Spengler était réservé, semble-t-il, de les trouver et de les exprimer, pour la première fois, avec une netteté irréfutable .
Là, réside la nouveauté absolue de l’œuvre, comme sa valeur immense dans le domaine de la pensée non moins que de la pratique. Avant lui bien des penseurs, depuis Montesquieu, Herder… jusqu’à Hegel et Auguste Comte plus près de nous, s’étaient bien hasardés à esquisser une « philosophie de l’histoire », très littéraire encore. Karl Marx s’était approché le plus près d’une rigueur scientifique, dans son « Capital », lorsqu’il avait bâti toute une interprétation de l’histoire moderne sur la loi du « matérialisme historique ». Hegel, il y a un siècle aujourd’hui, avait, d’autre part, parfaitement défini en logique les conditions et les limites de toute interprétation de l’Histoire. De là au système d’idées absolument clos et, de plus, parfaitement concret, tangible, expérimentable, que forme l’intuition spenglérienne, il y a un monde ! C’est une forme nouvelle de pensée, un instrument nouveau que Spengler met entre les mains des peuples blancs, une exploration dans le domaine du temps : non pas une quelconque magie, il s’agit de possibilités psychologiques nouvelles que dégage aussitôt en nous la conscience de la fin pressante de la civilisation que nous subissons, en particulier celle d’envisager de sang-froid les rapports des diverses nations et races de la planète… la possession de l’histoire entière est mise au service de notre avenir. Il ne faut voir là rien d’autre que la réplique, à trois siècles de distance, à l’exploration tentée dans les espaces sidéraux par les premiers astronomes munis d’instruments à longue portée. « Une découverte copernicienne sur le terrain de l’Histoire», a-t-on pu dire (voir le § VI de l’Introduction). Spengler doit ce sens aigu de la relativité des événements à l’intérêt qu’il porte aux civilisations exotiques, non classiques, si souvent négligées par les historiens. Pour lui, une création en vaut une autre : l’architecture de l’ancienne Egypte n’est pas inférieure à notre calcul infinitésimal, la vieille morale de Confucius pas moins positive que toute la sophistique rationnelle des socratiques,… il ne craint pas de mettre en parallèle pour leur rôle moral le bouddhisme primitif, le stoïcisme antique, et notre socialisme contemporain ! Le coup d’oeil est devenu sans parti-pris, mais combien plus pénétrant !
Ce n’est pas aujourd’hui encore que sera saisie dans son ampleur la répercussion révolutionnaire de pareilles nouveautés dans le monde des idées, ou — pour parler métaphysique — la possibilité d’ériger désormais en un système viable le monde intuitif des poètes, « l’univers-histoire », en face de « l’univers-nature », du règne de la science, si exclusivement tyrannique encore à l’heure actuelle (l’opposition est esquissée au chapitre 2 du tome I) ! Mais, au simple contact de ces doctrines, des sentiments confus se réveillent en nous, un monde mystique tend à reparaître, qui dut exister dans la foi du moyen-âge et que l’éducation classique de la Renaissance avait peu à peu enfoui. Car enfin, est-ce bien le livre qui a bouleversé le monde d’après-guerre ? ou n’est-il pas seulement le premier éclat, la première et insolite traduction littéraire de cette résurrection de l’âme du Nord, qui tend à se faire jour avec la violence d’un élément ?
Le tome I du «Déclin de l’Occident» parut en 1918 et Spengler en dédiait alors la préface aux armées allemandes, espérant que le livre ne serait pas « tout à fait indigne des sacrifices militaires… » Après l’écroulement, parmi « la misère et le dégoût de ce temps », l’édition de l’ouvrage tout entier (1922) apparut d’abord comme un instrument de combat…
STUR n° 11 Octobre 1937
Short URL: http://breizatao.com/?p=7917
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vendredi, 27 avril 2012
L'Italia secondo Oswald Spengler
L'Italia secondo Oswald Spengler
Andrea Virga
Ex: http://andreavirga.blogspot.com/
(9) O. Spengler, Prussianesimo e socialismo, op. cit., p. 93.
00:05 Publié dans Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : oswald spengler, italie, révolution conservatrice, allemagne | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 08 avril 2012
Spengler profeta dell'Eurasia
Andrea VIRGA:
Spengler profeta dell'Eurasia
Ex: andreavirga.blogspot.com/
Nel 1918[1], mentre la guerra civile era ancora in corso, egli già prevedeva che la Russia avrebbe abbandonato nell’arco di pochi decenni il marxismo, per affermarsi come una nuova potenza imperiale eurasiatica – il che si è puntualmente avverato in questi ultimi anni. Noi vogliamo ora mettere a confronto il pensiero di Spengler con le attuali teorie eurasiatiste, che concepiscono lo spazio eurasiatico come di primaria importanza per la costruzione di un polo geopolitico alternativo a quello atlantico.
La sua tesi di fondo è che la Russia sia una realtà ben differente dalla “civilizzazione” occidentale, ma avente in sé tutte le premesse per la formazione di una nuova “civiltà”, la quale è ancora in una fase embrionale. Per analogia, la civiltà russa si trova perciò nella stessa fase di quella occidentale durante l’Alto Medioevo[2].
Questa civiltà era stata fino ad allora soggetta a forme ideologiche e culturali prettamente occidentali come il petrinismo e il leninismo, rispettivamente derivazioni di modelli occidentali come l’assolutismo e il marxismo, che le avevano impedito di esprimere il suo vero spirito. Tuttavia, era inevitabile, secondo il filosofo tedesco, che il bolscevismo sarebbe stato man mano superato e scartato dalla Russia, in favore di una forma politica più propriamente autoctona. Lo stesso bolscevismo russo, con Stalin, è andato assumendo caratteri decisamente nazionalisti e una sua politica di potenza a livello mondiale, interrotta dalla disintegrazione della potenza sovietica alla fine della Guerra Fredda, ma ripresa da Putin.
La “natura russa” (Russentum), «promessa di una Kultur [“civiltà”] a venire»[3], è modellata dal suo paesaggio natio, l’immensa piana eurasiatica che si estende oltre i confini delle civilizzazioni esistenti (Occidente, Islam, India, Cina), ed è infatti propria ai numerosi popoli, d’istinto nomade o seminomade, che vi vivono: slavi, iranici, uralici, altaici, ecc. Non dimentichiamo che, per l’occidentalista Spengler, «L’Europa vera finisce sulle rive della Vistola […] gli stessi Polacchi e gli Slavi dei Balcani sono “Asiatici”»[4].
Ancora più interessanti sono i rilievi che emergono dagli appunti postumi di Spengler dedicati alla protostoria[5]: nel Neolitico, delle tre grandi “civiltà” aurorali esistenti, che lui chiama Atlantis, Kush e Turan, quest’ultima occupa proprio la parte settentrionale dell’Eurasia, dalla Scandinavia alla Corea. L’uomo di Turan è un tipo eroico, in cui prevale il senso del tragico, dell’amor fati, della nostalgia e dall’irrequietezza data dai grandi spazi aperti. Queste caratteristiche si riscontrano per Spengler sia nel tipo prussiano sia in quello russo, il che contribuisce alla vicinanza tra questi due popoli. L’influenza di Turan si proietta inoltre dall’Europa al Medio Oriente, dalla Cina all’India, sulla scia della diffusione del carro da guerra indoeuropeo nel II millennio a.C[6], ponendo le basi per le civiltà successive.
Vediamo poi il significato politico delle teorie di Spengler. Robert Steuckers ipotizza che il comune substrato turanico potesse essere la base mitico-ideologica per un’alleanza politica tra il Reich tedesco, l’Unione Sovietica, la Cina nazionalista, e i nazionalisti indiani, in un’ottica anti-occidentale[7]. Viceversa, la critica coeva di Johann von Leers[8] accusava Spengler per la sua opera “Anni della decisione” (1933)[9] di voler formare un asse occidentalista e razzista con l’Inghilterra e gli Stati Uniti bianchi, di contro alle potenze di colore (America Latina, Africa, Asia, incluse Giappone, Italia e Russia). Non va però scordato che in scritti precedenti[10] aveva affermato chiaramente una maggiore affinità tra Prussia e Russia. La sua stessa interpretazione del bolscevismo russo come prodotto essenzialmente autoctono, in contrasto con quella antigiudaica delle destre europee anticomuniste, ha ispirato autori di tendenze nazionalbolsceviche come Arthur Moeller van den Bruck[11], Ernst Jünger, Ernst Niekisch, Erich Müller[12].
Risulta quindi evidente come Spengler, non adoperi il termine “Eurasia”, ma di fatto descriva quello stesso spazio (Raum) etnoculturale e geopolitico, identificandolo con una nascente civiltà russa, con caratteristiche sia asiatiche che centro-europee. La sua interpretazione della storia russa contemporanea coincide inoltre con l’interpretazione data dagli odierni eurasiatisti (Dugin, Baburin), ossia di una continuità nella politica internazionale tra zarismo, stalinismo e neo-eurasiatismo nell’affermazione della Russia come potenza eurasiatica.
[12] E. Müller, Nazionalbolscevismo, in Aa. Vv., Nazionalcomunismo, SEB, Milano 1996.
17:55 Publié dans Eurasisme, Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : oswald spengler, eurasisme, eurasie, géopolitique, révolution conservatrice, allemagne | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mardi, 27 décembre 2011
La critica di Spengler a Marx è di non aver capito il capitalismo moderno
di Francesco Lamendola
Fonte: Arianna Editrice [scheda fonte]
È quasi incredibile il fatto che neppure la crisi gravissima che le nostre società stanno attraversando abbia sollecitato negli ambienti culturali, oltre che in quelli economici, un serio dibattito sulle origini di essa e sui meccanismi della finanza che consentono di eludere il fisco e di spostare continuamente ingenti capitali al di fuori di qualsiasi controllo; meccanismi così capillari e pervasivi che perfino il più modesto cittadino, attraverso la trasformazione del risparmio in titoli azionari, diventa possessore teorico di proprietà delle quali non conosce assolutamente nulla se non il controvalore, sempre mutevole, in quotazioni borsistiche.
Questa arretratezza culturale quasi inconcepibile o, per dir meglio, questa assordante assenza di riflessione e di dibattito è, in larga misura, uno dei tanti effetti negativi che l’egemonia del marxismo ha avuto nella mentalità occidentale, anche fra coloro che lo hanno avversato e che lo hanno combattuto.
Una volta stabilito, in via definitiva, che Marx indiscutibilmente era un genio dell’economia politica, non restava che prendere per buona la sua analisi e attrezzarsi di conseguenza, sia che si auspicasse la rivoluzione comunista da lui propugnata, sia che la si paventasse; per cui non solo milioni di cittadini comuni, ma anche quasi tutta la schiera degli economisti e moltissimi filosofi dell’economia, sono rimasti letteralmente ipnotizzati dalle sue formule, dai suoi slogan e dai suoi mantra, ripetuti all’infinito con monotona ed esasperante insistenza.
Senonchè, Marx non era, forse, quel genio dell’economia che tutti affermano: la sua analisi dell’economia politica parte dalla realtà storica del 1848, ma vista - come osserva acutamente Oswald Spengler - con gli occhi di un liberale del 1789; in altre parole, le sue basi culturali erano quelle del diciottesimo secolo, e del capitalismo moderno egli aveva compreso poco o nulla, benché la rapida evoluzione di esso fosse proprio sotto i suoi occhi.
In particolare, Marx non si rese conto della crescente, inarrestabile trasformazione del capitale industriale in capitale finanziario e basò la sua riflessione su una figura quasi mitologica, quella del capitano d’industria che sfrutta gli operai della fabbrica, secondo il modello di Charles Dickens, mentre ben altri erano i meccanismi in movimento e ben altre le modalità di accumulazione capitalistica, assai più complesse e meno spettacolari.
E tuttavia, per quasi un secolo e mezzo, le masse occidentali sono rimaste affascinate e incantate da quella mitologia, da quello schema in bianco e nero, che presentava tutto come semplice e chiaro: di qua gli sfruttatori, alcuni loschi individui in cilindro e redingote, di là le masse sfruttate e sofferenti, gli onesti operai dalle mani callose, costretti a farsi schiavi delle macchine per impinguare i forzieri dei loro insaziabili padroni.
Lo stereotipo ingenuamente manicheo ha retto almeno fino al 1968, aiutato dal fatto, invero paradossale, che la cultura egemone in Italia, e in buona parte del mondo, fino a quella data e ancora oltre, è stata quella di matrice marxista, ma senza che praticamente nessuno di quanti la professavano si fosse dato in realtà la pena di leggere i ponderosi, noiosissimi volumi de «Il Capitale», e tanto meno di leggerli con un minimo di spirito critico. Non si legge un testo religioso con spirito critico, specialmente se si è degli apostoli zelanti: e tali si sentivano milioni di giovani e di meno giovai rivoluzionari” di sinistra, che facevano il tifo - oltre che per Marx - per Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Ho-chi-min e “Che” Guevara. I testi religiosi si citano come verità rivelata e si brandiscono come spade, magari per chiudere la bocca a qualche arrogante infedele.
L’immagine marxiana di una semplicistica contrapposizione fra “capitalista” e “proletario” è rimasta inalterata anche quando Engels, e soprattutto Lenin, hanno ripreso il discorso, riprendendolo là dove Marx di fatto lo aveva lasciato e sviluppando l’analisi del capitalismo finanziario, dei trust, dei cartelli e delle forme impersonali del capitale; ed è rimasta inalterata per la buona ragione che è molto più semplice creare un immaginario collettivo a sfondo mitologico, come ben sanno gli ideatori delle varie forme di pubblicità, specialmente televisiva, che non modificarlo o riequilibrarlo, una volta ch’esso si sia imposto.
Scriveva, dunque, Spengler ne «La rigenerazione del Reich» (titolo originale: «Neubau des Deutschen Reiches», Munchen, 1924; traduzione italiana di Carlo Sandrelli, Edizioni di Ar, Padova, 1992, pp. 92-95):
«L’ideale delle imposte dirette, calcolate in base ad una corretta valutazione fiscale dei propri redditi e pagate personalmente da ogni concittadino, oggi domina così incondizionatamente che la sua equità ed efficacia sembrano evidenti. La critica si rivolge ad aspetti particolari, non al principio in quanto tale. Eppure esso deriva non da considerazioni ed esperienze pratiche, ed ancor meno dalla preoccupazione di sostenere la vita economica, bensì DALLA FILOSOFIA DI ROUSSEAU. Ai crudi metodi degli appaltatori e degli esattori del 18° secolo, volti esclusivamente alla realizzazione di un profitto, esso contrappone il concetto dei diritti umani nati, fondato sulla rappresentazione dello Stato come frutto di un libero contratto sociale - figura, questa, che a sua volta viene contrapposta alle forme statali storicamente sviluppatesi. Secondo questa concezione, è dovere del singolo cittadino e rientra nella sua dignità umana stimare personalmente e pagare personalmente la propria partecipazione al pagamento dei carichi che gravano sull’intera società. Da questo momento la moderna politica fiscale si fonda, dapprima inconsapevolmente poi in modo sempre più chiaro, in corrispondenza con la crescente democratizzazione dell’opinione pubblica, su una Weltanschauung che cede ai sentimenti e agli stati d’animo politici, alla fine escludendo completamente un riflessione spregiudicata sull’adeguatezza dei procedimenti correnti. Quel concetto tuttavia era allora sostenibile. A quell’epoca, la struttura dell’economia era tale che i singoli redditi erano tutti palesi e facilmente accertabili. Essi derivavano dall’agricoltura, da un ufficio oppure dal commercio e dall’industria., dove, in virtù di un’organizzazione corporativa, ognuno poteva conoscere la situazione dell’altro. Non esistevano entrate maggiori da tener nascoste. Inoltre, allora i patrimoni erano un possesso immobile e visibile: terra e campi, case, aziende ed imprese che ognuno sapeva a chi appartenevano. Ma proprio con la fine de secolo è intervenuto nell’ambito economico un sovvertimento che ne ha interamente modificatola struttura interna, il ciclo ed il significato, e che risulta molto più importante di ciò che Marx intende per capitalismo”, ossia l’egemonia dei capitani d’industria. Proprio la dottrina di Marx, poiché parte da una segreta invidia e perciò può scorgere soltanto la superficie delle cose, per un secolo intero ha disegnato con linee false l’immagine riconosciuta dell’economia. L’influenza delle sue formule speciose è stata tanto maggiore in quanto essa ha rimosso i giudizi riferiti all’esperienza, soppiantandoli con i giudizi dettati dal sentimento. È stata così grande che nemmeno i suoi avversari vi si sono sottratti e che la normativa moderna sul lavoro poggia totalmente sui concetti fondamentali interamente marxisti di “prestatore di lavoro”e “datori di lavoro” (come se questi ultimi non lavorassero). Poiché queste formule si riferiscono agli operai delle grandi città, la dottrina rifletteva la svolta decisiva intervenuta verso la metà del XIX secolo con la rapida crescita della grande industria. Ma proprio nell’ambito della grande tecnica lo sviluppo era stato assai regolare. Un’industria meccanica esisteva già dal 18° secolo. Agisce piuttosto da fattore decisivo il progressivo svanire della proprietà intesa come qualità naturale delle cose possedute, con l’introduzione di certificati di valore, quali i crediti, le partecipazioni o le azioni. I patrimoni individuali diventano mobili, invisibili e inafferrabili Essi non CONSTANO più di cose visibili, giacché in queste ultime sono INVESTITI ed in ogni momento possono mutare il luogo e le modalità di investimento. Il PROPRIETARIO delle aziende si è contemporaneamente trasformato in POSSESSORE di azioni. Gli azionisti hanno perduto qualsiasi rapporto naturale, organico con le aziende. Essi nulla capiscono delle loro funzioni e capacità produttive, né se ne interessano: badano solo al profitto. Possono cambiare rapidamente, essere molti o pochi, e trovarsi in qualsiasi luogo; le quote di partecipazione possono essere riunite in poche mani, oppure disperse o addirittura finire all’stero. Nessuno sa a chi realmente appartenga un’azienda. Nessun proprietario conosce le cose che possiede. Conosce soltanto il valore monetario di questa proprietà secondo le quote di Borsa. Non si sa mai quante delle cose che si trovano entro i confini di un Paese appartengono ai suoi abitanti. Infatti, da quando esiste un servizio elettrico di trasmissione delle notizie - che con una semplice disposizione orale consente di cambiare anche la titolarità delle azioni oppure di trasferirle all’estero -, la partecipazioni di azionisti azionali in aziende del nostro Paese può aumentare o ridursi di quantità impressionanti in un’ora di Borsa, a seconda che gli stranieri cedano o acquistino pacchetti azionari, magari in un solo giorno. Oggi in tutte le Nazioni ad economia avanzata oltre la metà delle proprietà è diventata mobile ed i suoi mutevoli proprietari sono disseminati per tutta la terra, avendo perduto ogni interesse che non sia finanziario al lavoro effettivamente compiuto. Anche l’imprenditore è diventato sempre più un impiegato ed un oggetto di questi ambienti. Tutto questo non è riconoscibile nelle aziende medesime e non è accettabile con alcun metodo fiscale. Così però svanisce la possibilità di verificare l’assolvimento del dovere fiscale della singola persona, se il possessore di valori variabili non lo vuole. Lo stesso vale in misura crescente per i redditi. La mobilità, la libertà professionale, la soppressione delle corporazioni sottrae il singolo al controllo dei suoi compagni di lavoro. Da quando esistono ferrovie, piroscafi, giornali e telegrammi, la circolazione delle notizie ha assunto forme che liberano L’acquisto e la vendita dal limite del tempo e dello spazio. La vendita a distanza domina l’economia. Le transazioni a termine superano il semplice scambio tra produttori e consumatori. Il fabbisogno locale per il quale lavorava la corporazione viene ora soddisfatto dalla Borsa merci, che approfitta dei nessi tra la produzione, la distribuzione e il consumo di cose per realizzare guadagni speculativi. Per le banche, al posto delle operazioni di cambio del 18° secolo,la fonte principale di guadagno diventa l’erogazione di crediti, mentre la speculazione con i valori diventati mobili decide da un giorno all’altro nella Borsa valori sull’ammontare del patrimonio nazionale. Così anche i profitti commerciali e speculativi risultano sottratti a qualsiasi controllo ufficiale, alla fine rimangono soltanto i redditi medio-bassi che, come i salari e gli stipendi, sono così modesti che non è proprio possibile sbagliarsi sulla loro entità.»
Può essere una scoperta, per quanti hanno sempre considerato Spengler semplicemente come un filosofo della storia, scoprire in lui una tale acutezza nell’analisi dell’economia politica e una tale indipendenza di giudizio rispetto a un “mostro sacro” come Marx, del quale coglie tutta l’insufficienza speculativa, nonché i sotterranei meccanismi psicologici (la «segreta invidia» del piccolo borghese declassato rispetto ai ricchi imprenditori; salvo poi vivere senza alcun imbarazzo, si potrebbe aggiungere, sul portafoglio di quegli aborriti signori, tramite l’amico Engels che era, appunto, figlio di un capitano d’industria).
In effetti, la fama - positiva o negativa, questo non importa - de «Il tramonto dell’Occidente» ha messo alquanto in ombra le altre opere di questo filosofo e gli svariati e molteplici aspetti del suo itinerario speculativo.
Ma forse, vi è un’altra ragione per cui il cliché mitologico marxiano del capitalismo ha avuto tanto successo, nonostante la sua palese rozzezza e inverosimiglianza: il fatto che ampliare l’analisi dei meccanismi finanziari speculativi avrebbe recato un colpo decisivo all’immagine del proletario moralmente sano e antropologicamente differente dal bieco capitalista.
La verità è che, nella speculazione finanziaria, il cittadino comune è contemporaneamente vittima e carnefice: vittima, perché i suoi risparmi sono risucchiati in un mostruoso, anonimo meccanismo che li utilizza in modi a lui sconosciuti e, comunque, incomprensibili; carnefice, perché egli stesso si avvantaggia della legge della giungla che domina nelle Borse, e realizza margini di profitto ogni qualvolta si indeboliscono titoli e azioni detenuti da altri piccoli risparmiatori, simili a lui.
Tutto questo, naturalmente, non si accorda con il mito dell’operaio e del “lavoratore” senza macchia e senza paura, versione marxista del roussoiano “buon selvaggio”, perciò andava rimosso: le bandiere della rivoluzione andavano sventolate in omaggio a dei fantasmi ideologici, non alla realtà.
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00:08 Publié dans Economie, Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice, Théorie politique | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : économie, philosophie, oswald spengler, karl marx, théorie politique, politologie, sciences politiques | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
dimanche, 18 septembre 2011
Oswald Spengler et l’âge des “Césars”
Max OTTE:
Oswald Spengler et l’âge des “Césars”
Fonctionnaires globaux, négociants libre-échangistes, milliardaires: les questions essentielles posées par Spengler et ses sombres prophéties sont d’une étonnante actualité!
Il y a 75 ans, le 8 mai 1936, Oswald Spengler, philosophe des cultures et esprit universel, est mort. Si l’on lit aujourd’hui les pronostics qu’il a formulés en 1918 pour la fin du 20ème siècle, on est frappé de découvrir ce que ce penseur isolé a entrevu, seul, dans son cabinet d’études, alors que le siècle venait à peine de commencer et que l’Allemagne était encore un sujet souverain sur l’échiquier mondial et dans l’histoire vivante, qui était en train de se faire.
L’épopée monumentale de Spengler, son “Déclin de l’Occident”, dont le premier volume était paru en 1918, a fait d’edmblée de ce savant isolé et sans chaire une célébrité internationale. Malgré le titre du livre, qui est clair mais peut aisément induire en erreur, Spengler ne se préoccupait pas seulement du déclin de l’Occident. Plus précisément, il analysait les dernières étapes de la civilisation occidentale et réfléchissait à son “accomplissement”; selon lui, cet “accomplissement” aurait lieu dans le futur. C’est pourquoi il a développé une théorie grandiose sur le devenir de la culture, de l’histoire, de l’art et des sciences.
Pour élaborer cette théorie, il rompt avec le schéma classique qui divise le temps historique entre une antiquité, un moyen âge et des temps modernes et veut inaugurer rien moins qu’une “révolution copernicienne” dans les sciences historiques. Les cultures, pour Spengler, sont des organismes supra-personnels, nés d’idées matricielles et primordiales (“Urideen”) auxquelles ils demeurent fidèles dans toutes leurs formes et expressions, que ce soit en art, en diplomatie, en politique ou en économie. Mais lorsque le temps de ces organismes est révolu, ceux-ci se figent, se rigidifient et tombent en déliquescence.
Sur le plan de sa conception de la science, Spengler se réclame de Goethe: “Une forme forgée/façonnée (“geprägt”), qui se développe en vivant” (“Geprägte Form, die lebend sich entwickelt”). Dans le germe d’une plante se trouve déjà tout le devenir ultérieur de cette plante: selon la même analogie, l’ “Uridee” (l’idée matricielle et primordiale) de la culture occidentale a émergé il y a mille ans en Europe; celle de la culture antique, il y a environ trois mille ans dans l’espace méditerranéen. Toutes les cultures ont un passé ancien, primordial, qui est villageois et religieux, puis elle développent l’équivalent de notre gothique, de notre renaissance, de notre baroque et de nos époques tardives et (hyper)-urbanisées; ces dernières époques, Spengler les qualifie de “civilisation”. Le symbole originel (“Ursymbol”) de la culture occidentale est pour Spengler la dynamique illimitée des forces, des puissances et de l’espace, comme on le perçoit dans les cathédrales gothiques, dans le calcul différentiel, dans l’imprimerie, dans les symphonies de Beethoven, dans les armes capables de frapper loin et dans les explorations et conquêtes des Vikings. La culture chinoise a, elle aussi, construit des navires capables d’affronter la haute mer ainsi que la poudre à canon, mais elle avait une autre “âme”. L’idée matricielle et primordiale de la Chine, c’est pour Spengler, le “sentier” (“der Pfad”). Jamais la culture chinoise n’a imaginé de conquérir la planète.
Dans toutes les cultures, on trouve la juxtaposition d’une volonté de puissance et d’un espace spirituel et religieux, qui se repère d’abord dans l’opposition entre aristocratie et hiérocratie (entre la classe aristocratique et les prêtres), ensuite dans l’opposition politique/économie ou celle qu’il y a entre philosophie et sciences. Et, en fin de compte, au moment où elles atteignent leur point d’accomplissement, les civilisations sombrent dans ce que Spengler appelle la “Spätzeit”, l’ “ère tardive”, où règne une “seconde religiosité” (“eine zweite Religiosität”). Les masses sortent alors du flux de l’histoire et se vautrent dans le cycle répétitif et éternel de la nature: elles ne mènent plus qu’une existence simple.
La “Spätzeit” des masses scelle aussi la fin de la démocratie, elle-même phase tardive dans toutes les cultures. C’est à ce moment-là que commence l’ère du césarisme. Il n’y a alors “plus de problèmes politiques. On se débrouille avec les situations et les pouvoirs qui sont en place (...). Déjà au temps de César les strates convenables et honnêtes de la population ne se préoccupaient plus des élections. (...) A la place des armées permanentes, on a vu apparaître progressivement des armées de métier (...). A la place des millions, on a à nouveau eu affaire aux “centaines de milliers” (...)”. Pourtant, Spengler est très éloigné de toute position déterministe: “A la surface des événements mondiaux règne toutefois l’imprévu (...). Personne n’avait pu envisager l’émergence de Mohammed et le déferlement de l’islam et personne n’avait prévu, à la chute de Robespierre, l’avènement de Napoléon”.
La guerre dans la phase finale de la civilisation occidentale
La vie d’Oswald Spengler peut se raconter en peu de mots: né en 1880 à Blankenburg dans le Harz, il a eu une enfance malheureuse; le mariage de ses parents n’avait pas été un mariage heureux: il n’a généré que problèmes; trop de femmes difficiles dans une famille où il était le seul garçon; il a fréquenté les “Fondations Francke” à Halle; il n’avait pas d’amis: il lisait, il méditait, il élaborait ses visions. Il était loin du monde. Ses études couvrent un vaste champs d’investigation: il voulait devenir professeur et a abordé la physique, les sciences de la nature, la philosophie, l’histoire... Et était aussi un autodidacte accompli. “Il n’y avait aucune personnalité à laquelle je pouvais me référer”. Il ne fréquentait que rarement les salles de conférence ou de cours. Il a abandonné la carrière d’enseignant dès qu’un héritage lui a permis de mener une existence indépendante et modeste. Il n’eut que de très rares amis et levait de temps à autre une fille dans la rue. On ne s’étonnera dès lors pas que Spengler ait choisi comme deuxième mentor, après Goethe, ce célibataire ultra-sensible que fut Friedrich Nietzsche. Celui-ci exercera une profonde influence sur l’auteur du “déclin de l’Occident”: “De Goethe , j’ai repris la méthode; de Nietzsche, les questions”.
L’influence politique de Spengler ne s’est déployée que sur peu d’années. Dans “Preussentum und Sozialismus” (“Prussianité et socialisme”), un livre paru en 1919, il esquisse la différence qui existe entre l’esprit allemand et l’esprit anglais, une différence qui s’avère fondamentale pour comprendre la “phase tardive” du monde occidental. Pour Spengler, il faut le rappeler, les cultures n’ont rien d’homogène: partout, en leur sein, on repère une dialectique entre forces et contre-forces, lequelles sont toujours suscitées par la volonté de puissance que manifeste toute forme de vie. Pour Spengler, ce qui est spécifiquement allemand, ou prussien, ce sont les idées de communauté, de devoir et de solidarité, assorties du primat du politique; ces idées ont été façonnées, au fil du temps, par les Chevaliers de l’Ordre Teutonique, qui colonisèrent l’espace prussien au moyen âge. Ce qui est spécifiquement anglais, c’est le primat de la richesse matérielle, c’est la liberté de rafler du butin et c’est l’idéal du Non-Etat, inspiré par les Vikings et les pirates de la Manche.
“C’est ainsi que s’opposent aujourd’hui deux grands principes économiques: le Viking a donné à terme le libre-échangiste; le Chevalier teutonique a donné le fonctionnaire administratif. Il n’y a pas de réconciliation possible entre ces deux attitudes et toutes deux ne reconnaissent aucune limite à leur volonté, elles ne croiront avoir atteint leur but que lorsque le monde entier sera soumis à leur idée; il y aura donc la guerre jusqu’à ce que l’une de ces deux idées aura totalement vaincu”. Cette opposition irréconciliable implique de poser la question décisive: laquelle de ces deux idées dominera la phase finale de la civilisation occidentale? “L’économie planétaire prendra-t-elle la forme d’une exploitation générale et totale de la planète ou impliquera-t-elle l’organisation totale du monde? Les Césars de cet imperium futur seront-ils des milliardaires ou des fonctionnaires globaux? (...) la population du monde sera-t-elle l’objet de la politique de trusts ou l’objet de la politique d’hommes, tels qu’ils sont évoqués à la fin du second Faust de Goethe?”.
Lorsque, armés du savoir dont nous disposons aujourd’hui, nous jetons un regard rétrospectif sur ces questions soulevées jadis par Spengler, lorsque nous constatons que les lobbies imposent des lois, pour qu’elles servent leurs propres intérêts économiques, lorsque nous voyons les hommes politiques entrer au service de consortiums, lorsque des fonds quelconques, de pension ou de logement, avides comme des sauterelles affamées, ruinent des pans entiers de l’industrie, lorsque nous constatons que le patrimoine génétique se voit désormais privatisé et, enfin, lorsque toutes les initiatives publiques se réduisent comme peau de chagrin, les questions posées par Spengler regagnent une formidable pertinence et accusent une cruelle actualité. En effet, les nouveaux dominateurs du monde sont des milliardaires et les hommes politiques ne sont plus que des pions ou des figures marginalisées.
Spengler a rejeté les propositions de Goebbels
Spengler espérait que le Reich allemand allait retrouver sa vigueur et sa fonction, comme l’atteste son écrit de 1924, “Neubau des Deutschen Reiches” (= “Pour une reconstruction du Reich allemand”). Dans cet écrit, il exprimait son désir de voir “la partie la plus valable du monde allemand des travailleurs s’unir aux meilleurs porteurs du sentiment d’Etat vieux-prussien (...) pour réaliser ensemble une démocratisation au sens prussien du terme, en soudant leurs efforts communs par une adhésion déterminée au sentiment du devoir”. Spengler utilise souvent le terme “Rasse” (= “race”) dans cet écrit. Mais ce terme, chez lui, signifie “mode de comportement avéré, qui va de soi sans remise en question aucune”; en fait, c’est ce que nous appelerions aujourd’hui une “culture d’organisation” (“Organisationskultur”). Spengler rejetait nettement la théorie folciste (= “völkisch”) de la race. Lorsqu’il parlait de “race”, il entendait “la race que l’on possédait, et non pas la race à laquelle on appartient. La première relève de l’éthique, la seconde de la zoologie”.
A la fin des années 20, Spengler se retire du monde et adopte la vie du savant sans chaire. Il ne reprendra la parole qu’en 1933, en publiant “Jahre der Entscheidung” (= “Années décisives”). En quelques mois, le livre atteint les ventes exceptionnelles de 160.000 exemplaires. On le considère à juste titre comme le manifeste de la résistance conservatrice.
Spengler lance un avertissement: “Nous ne vivons pas une époque où il y a lieu de s’enthousiasmer ou de triompher (...). Des fanatiques exagèrent des idées justes au point de procéder à la propre annulation de celles-ci. Ce qui promettait grandeur au départ, se termine en tragédie ou en comédie”. Goebbels a demandé à Spengler de collaborer à ses publications: il refuse. Il s’enfonce dans la solitude. Il avait déjà conçu un second volume aux “Années décisives” mais il ne le couche pas sur le papier car, dit-il, “je n’écris pas pour me faire interdire”.
Au début du 21ème siècle, l’esprit viking semble avoir définitivement triompher de l’esprit d’ordre. Le monde entier et ses patrimoines culturels sont de plus en plus considérés comme des propriétés privées. La conscience du devoir, la conscience d’appartenir à une histoire, les multiples formes de loyauté, le sens de la communauté, le sentiment d’appartenir à un Etat sont houspillés hors des coeurs et des esprits au bénéfice d’une liberté que l’on pose comme sans limites, comme dépourvue d’histoire et uniquement vouée à la jouissance. La politique est devenue une marchandise que l’on achète. Le savoir de l’humanité est entreposé sur le site “Google”, qui s’en est généralement emparé de manière illégitime; la conquête de l’espace n’est plus qu’un amusement privé.
Mais: “Le temps n’autorise pas qu’on le retourne; il n’y aurait d’ailleurs aucune sagesse dans un quelconque retournement du temps comme il n’y a pas de renoncement qui serait indice d’intelligence. Nous sommes nés à cette époque-ci et nous devons courageusement emprunter le chemin qui nous a été tracé (...). Il faut se maintenir, tenir bon, comme ce soldat romain, dont on a retrouvé les ossements devant une porte de Pompéi; cet homme est mort, parce qu’au moment de l’éruption du Vésuve, on n’a pas pensé à le relever. Ça, c’est de la grandeur. Cette fin honnête est la seule chose qu’on ne peut pas retirer à un homme”.
Et nous? Nous qui croyons à l’Etat et au sens de la communauté, nous qui sentons au-dessus de nous la présence d’un ciel étoilé et au-dedans de nous la présence de la loi morale, nous qui aimons les symphonies de Beethoven et les paysages de Caspar David Friedrich, va-t-on nous octroyer une fin digne? On peut le supposer. S’il doit en être ainsi, qu’il en soit ainsi.
Max OTTE.
(article paru dans “Junge Freiheit”, Berlin, n°19/2011 – http://www.jungefreiheit.de/ ).
Max Otte est professeur d’économie (économie de l’entreprise) à Worms en Allemagne. Dans son ouvrage “Der Crash kommt” (= “Le crash arrive”), il a annoncé très exactement, dès 2006, l’éclatement de la crise financière qui nous a frappés en 2008 et dont les conséquences sont loin d’avoir été éliminées.
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : philosophie, révolution conservatrice, allemagne, oswald spengler, occident, pessimisme | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mercredi, 27 juillet 2011
Oswald Spengler ed il senso metapolitico del declino occidentale
Oswald Spengler ed il senso metapolitico del declino occidentale
Luca Valentini
Ex: http://www.centrostudilaruna.it/
La crisi morale, oltre che economica e finanziaria, che attualmente attanaglia l’Italia, le farsesche vicende dell’attuale cricca di potere al governo, spesso conducono anche i più acuti osservatori a smarrire quella visione d’insieme e di lontani orizzonti che dovrebbe sempre caratterizzare una visione del mondo e della vita autenticamente tradizionale, cioè fondata e determinata su principi dall’Alto.
E’ importante tale precisazione, perché, al di là delle giuste analisi sociologico-politiche, delle doverose battaglie per il benessere del Popolo Italiano, mai si dovrebbe dimenticare che l’ampiezza della crisi va ben oltre il nostro Paese e che le radici sono ben più profonde di ciò che ai nostri occhi si manifesta, essendo il piano finanziario solamente una risultante di un processo degenerativo, che interessa, nelle sue profondità abissali, i caratteri più interni dell’intera civilizzazione occidentale, nel suo spirito, nella sua moderna involuzione, nelle imboscate e nei tradimenti che essa ha subito.
Riferirsi a Oswald Spengler ed a ciò che ha espresso nelle sue opere, particolarmente nel Il Tramonto dell’Occidente, come noi faremo sinteticamente in questo articolo, ha proprio la determinata volontà di mettere in risalto codesto piano d’osservazione, un orizzonte che va ben oltre la semplice narrazione storicistica o i lineari ed apparentemente confusi e contradditori accadimenti del quotidiano, ma che vuole riaprire una riflessione, un ragionamento all’interno della nostra comunità sull’essenzialità di un approfondimento metapolitico che è e deve essere un approfondimento sulla nostra civiltà, sulla decadenza secolare che la caratterizza, nel rapporto della Tradizione Europea – che dal nostro punto di vista è essenzialmente Tradizione elleno-romano-germanica – con la sfera del Sacro, con l’esplicitazione nell’istituzione statuale, fino alle più ramificate e secondarie sezioni dello sviluppo produttivo e sociale: “Le civiltà sono degli organismi. La storia mondiale è la loro biografia complessiva” (da Il Tramonto dell’Occidente).
Un’analisi che valorizzi e ridesti il senso nascosto, occulto, quella terza dimensione della storia che molti smarriscono, insieme con quei punti di riferimento che unici possono stabilire un preciso quanto indispensabile percorso di autoriconoscimento identitario per la nostra comunità, per chi ricerca nell’impegno politico e culturale l’Uomo Nuovo e Differenziato dalla modernità, dalla pandemia inarrestabile che conduce oramai da diversi secoli l’intero Occidente – e con esso tutto il resto del mondo – verso un baratro di cui non si riescono a vedere vie d’uscita o possibilità di risalita. Per riferirci direttamente a Oswald Spengler, si rammenti come affermasse esserci un ciclo vitale per ogni singola civiltà, quasi fosse la stessa un vero e proprio ente animico, con una precisa contezza di se stesso. In riferimento all’Occidente sarebbe esistita prima la civiltà greco-romana, sorta grazie alle migrazioni indoeuropee in Grecia e nella penisola italica, che lo stesso ha definito “apollinea”, seguita da una civiltà germanica o detta “faustiana”. Entrambe queste Kultur hanno in sé un simbolo esprimente il proprio spirito vitale: Apollo, divinità della forma e della misura, dell’equilibrio interno, spirituale ed estetico; Faust, il personaggio creato da Goethe, come aspirazione perpetua che tenta di colmare lo iato tra l’esistenza parziale e limitata dell’Uomo e le altezze metafisiche della Divinità Trascendente. L’odierna società, pertanto, è il prodotto dell’esaurimento di tale forza originaria, di tale spirito ancestrale, lo spegnimento progressivo di ogni slancio oltre l’umano, di ogni classica forma interna: “Ognuna ha la sua fanciullezza, la sua gioventù, la sua età virile e la sua senilità (da Il Tramonto dell’Occidente)”.
A tal punto, partendo proprio da questa presa di coscienza, che dovrà risultare quanto più profonda e lucidamente attiva, si può accennare a ciò può e deve essere il senso di una militanza, di un impegno politico-culturale. Nella fase finale di questo ciclo, in questa umanità parodistica, l’unica via da percorrere è quella che conduce alla fedeltà nel proprio essere, alla costruzione di una comunità di uomini e di donne, conscia delle proprie radici e fiera della propria diversità dal resto del mondo. La lotta interna per la nascita di uomo che tragga da sé la legge da osservare, che sia impassibile ed inattaccabile di fronte alla marea che tutto corrompe, un uomo che con il suo essere sia esempio e trasmissione di Tradizione, questa la via d’onore che i nostri cuori hanno il diritto di percorrere. Il nostro ed unico scopo è quello, pertanto, anche grazie a questo giornale, di mettere a disposizione di quanti possano e vogliano le nostre umili conoscenze di studio e di ricerca tradizionali, per “fare ciò che deve essere fatto”, come Evola ci ricorda, e per rimanere fedeli all’Idea, che può essere valorosamente servita solo se da Spengler si assume la consapevolezza del mondo in cui siamo stati destinati a vivere: “…civiltà crepuscolare che è – scrive su La Vita italiana Evola riferendosi agli scritti di Spengler – una civiltà delle masse, civiltà antiqualitativa, inorganica, urbanistica, livellatrice, intimamente anarchica, demagogica, antitradizionale”.
* * *
Pubblicato sul periodico d’informazione politica Il Megafono, anno 2011.
Luca Valentini
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samedi, 14 mai 2011
Spengler - Zu seinem 75. Todestag
Spengler – Zu seinem 75. Todestag
Karlheinz Weissmann
Gestern fand am Grab Oswald Spenglers auf dem Münchener Nordfriedhof ein Gedenken zu dessen 75. Todestag statt. Die Einladung war durch das Institut für Staatspolitik (IfS) ergangen, das auch einen Kranz niederlegen ließ.
In der Ansprache am Grab hieß es:
Wir gedenken heute eines Mannes, den man noch in der jüngeren Vergangenheit selbstverständlich zu den großen Deutschen rechnete. Damit ist es heute vorbei. Der Name Spenglers sagt nur noch wenigen etwas. Zu denen rechnen wir uns, die wir heute hier zusammen gekommen sind.
Der 75. Todestag Oswald Spenglers ist für uns Anlaß, an einen Mann zu erinnern, der zu den bedeutenden Geschichtsdenkern des 20. Jahrhunderts gehört. Dabei ist die Rede vom `Propheten des Untergangs´ eine unzulässige Verkürzung, vorschnelle Ableitung aus dem Titel seines Hauptwerks Der Untergang des Abendlandes. Es wäre aber ein Irrtum, in Spengler den Verkünder der Schicksalsergebenheit zu sehen. Er forderte das amor fati, die Liebe zum Schicksal. Vor allem aber und zuerst war er ein unbestechlicher Beobachter und Analytiker, der weder vor dem großen Entwurf und der Gesamtschau, noch vor den notwendigen Schlußfolgerungen zurückscheute, – auch wenn die das Ende der eigenen, der abendländischen Kultur bedeuteten.
Spengler hat zu sehen gelehrt, daß auch die Kultur, wie jedes Lebewesen, den Gesetzen von Werden und Vergehen, Geburt, Wachstum und Tod unterliegt. Er war darin nicht der erste. Aber kein anderer hat wie er, trotz der bitteren Einsicht, gefordert, die Resignation zu meiden, tapfer auszuharren und den Posten nicht zu räumen.
Der Name Spenglers steht für Wirklichkeitssinn. Das allein könnte schon genügen. Wir gedenken seiner als eines Großen unseres Volkes.
Im Anschluß an das Gedenken fand noch eine Zusammenkunft statt, in deren Rahmen mehrere kurze Vorträge zu Leben, Werk und Bedeutung Spenglers gehalten wurden.
Article printed from Sezession im Netz: http://www.sezession.de
URL to article: http://www.sezession.de/24726/spengler-zu-seinem-75-todestag.html
00:05 Publié dans Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : oswald spengler, révolution conservatirce, philosophie, allemagne, hommage | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
samedi, 15 janvier 2011
Gli ultimi trionfi del denaro e della macchina nella filosofia della storia di Oswald Spengler
Gli ultimi trionfi del denaro e della macchina nella filosofia della storia di Oswald Spengler
Francesco Lamendola
Ex: http://www.centrostudilaruna.it/
Nato a Blankenburg, nel Magdeburgo, nel 1880 e morto a Monaco nel 1936 – in buon punto per evitare le conseguenze del suo rifiuto di approvare il violento antisemitismo del regime hitleriano -, Oswald Spengler è stato uno dei filosofi più discussi e controversi del XX secolo, suscitando fervidi entusiasmi e ripulse totali e irrevocabili. Per alcuni egli è stato il teorico del nazionalsocialismo, nella misura in cui – pur non aderendo formalmente ad esso – aveva sostenuto la necessità di instaurare un forte potere militare e affermato la superiorità della razza «bianca» e della preponderanza della Germania nel quadro politico mondiale. Altri hanno visto in lui il maggiore erede di Nietzsche, della sua fedeltà alla terra e della volontà di potenza, oltre che un continuatore del relativismo storicistico di Dilthey e, quindi, il legittimo continuatore della tradizione filosofica tedesca di fine Ottocento.
La sua concezione organicistica delle civiltà, secondo la quale ogni civiltà è equiparabile a un essere vivente che nasce, si sviluppa, decade (nella fase della «civilizzazione») e, da ultimo, muore, apparve – ed era – una tipica forma di biologismo sociale, dominata com’era da una darwiniana strength for life, ove le civiltà vecchie e deboli devono cedere il passo a quelle giovani e forti. Concezione che a molti non piacque, e che tuttavia appariva fondata su cospicui elementi di realtà oggettiva, e che tanto più difficile sembrava smentire quanto più l’Autore dispiegava, per sostenerla, una immensa congerie di osservazioni tratte dalla musica, dall’architettura, dalla storia delle religioni e da quella dell’economia e della tecnica.
Piacque, soprattutto ai Tedeschi, l’implicito machiavellismo sotteso a tutta l’opera: per cui, nelle convulsioni della disfatta al termine della prima guerra mondiale (Il tramonto dell’Occidente venne pubblicato tra il 1918 e il 1922, ossia negli anni più bui mai vissuti sino ad allora dalla Germania), era possibile intravedere una ripresa e, forse, persino una futura rivincita, a patto di sapere accettare il proprio destino e di percorrere sino in fondo la strada tracciata dalle presenti forze storiche, materiali non meno che spirituali.
Otto, secondo Spengler, sono le civiltà che si sono succedute, dall’origine ad oggi, nel panorama della storia mondiale, sviluppando quei «cicli di cultura» i quali tendono a ripetersi con caratteristiche sostanzialmente analoghe, pur nella diversità delle situazioni specifiche. Esse sono state la babilonese, l’egiziana, la indiana, la cinese, la greco-romana (o «apollinea»), l’araba (o «magica»), quella dei Maya e, infine, l’occidentale (che Spengler definisce «faustiana»). Si sono avvicendante secondo una cadenza di circa mille anni, soggiacendo a leggi in tutto e per tutto simili a quelle degli organismi viventi e finendo per estinguersi e scomparire completamente – tranne la nostra, che è destinata, però, a concludersi come le altre.
Si suole affermare che qualcosa di una civiltà continua a permanere anche al di là di essa, ma è un errore. Ogni civiltà è destinata a una fine totale, che trascina con sé anche i valori da essa emanati; nessun valore può sopravvivere al di là della civiltà che lo ha prodotto. I valori sono deperibili, proprio come le civiltà; possono, semmai, essere sostituiti da altri valori, frutto di altre civiltà. Non esistono valori assoluti, così come non esistono verità assolute; ogni verità è relativa al contesto della civiltà che la pone e, esauritasi quest’ultima, anche il concetto di verità si sbriciola, si frantuma. La stessa idea di progresso, non è altro che una illusione.
Quanto alla civiltà occidentale, essa è ormai quasi giunta al termine del proprio ciclo vitale e, quindi, alla successiva, inevitabile estinzione: non resta che prenderne atto e seguire il destino che ci si prepara, rinunciando alla chimera di poter tramandare valori imperituri o di poter mutare il corso della storia, bensì sfruttando l’ultimo guizzo di luce prima del crepuscolo.
Ma già si fa avanti la prossima civiltà, che prenderà il posto di quella occidentale: la civiltà russa, che dominerà a sua volta la scena della storia mondiale, finché non avrà esaurito il suo ciclo e scomparirà a sua volta.
La civiltà occidentale, dunque, non ha nulla di speciale, in se stessa, perché si debba pensare che possa sfuggire al destino di tutte le altre civiltà. Anzi, essa è già entrata, e da tempo, nella fase della civilizzazione, caratterizzata dal gigantismo delle sue creazioni esteriori e dal progressivo esaurimento del suo spirito vitale, della sua «anima».
D’altra parte, negli ultimi secoli della sua vicenda millenaria si è prodotto un evento finora sconosciuto alla storia dell’umanità: il sopravvento della tecnica, della macchina, sulla natura e sull’uomo stesso, che ne è divenuto lo schiavo. È nata una figura nuova, quella dell’ingegnere; che, molto più importante dell’imprenditore o dell’operaio dell’industria, tiene in mano i futuri sviluppi della civiltà occidentale. Ma il tempo di quest’ultima è ormai quasi compiuto; la fine è imminente. Si tratta soltanto di vedere se l’uomo occidentale saprà assecondare il movimento della storia, creando una nuova forma di potenza – quella del signore, che non si cura dei profitti personali come fa il mercante e che, a differenza di lui, mira ad instaurare una società basata sull’armonia generale e non sul vantaggio egoistico di pochi capitalisti.
Questa posizione spiega l’atteggiamento di cauto interesse nei confronti del socialismo, inteso come principio etico più che come concreto movimento storico; e coniugato, d’altronde, con un forte elemento di tipo nazionalistico, sì da far pensare più al nazionalsocialismo che al comunismo sovietico. Ma forse, dopotutto, Spengler aveva la vista più lunga di quanto non sembrasse ai suoi detrattori e aveva intuito che, dietro le grandi differenze esteriori, nazismo e stalinismo avevano più cose in comune di quante non fossero disposti ad ammettere sia l’uno che l’altro. Per cui la sua profezia, che alla fine l’idea del denaro si sarebbe scontrata con l’idea del sangue; ossia che i valori mercantili sarebbero venuti a una resa dei conti con i valori aristocratici, conteneva elementi tutt’altro che peregrini; tanto è vero che molti intellettuali europei di destra – a cominciare da Julius Evola, traduttore dal tedesco de Il tramonto dell’Occidente nella nostra lingua – avrebbero visto nella seconda guerra mondiale, a torto o a ragione, precisamente questo tipo di scontro finale. E così la vide anche Berto Ricci, andato volontario a combattere (e a morire) in Libia contro gli Inglesi, lui sposato e padre di famiglia, nella speranza di vedere – come scrisse in una delle sue ultime lettere – il sorgere di un mondo un po’ meno ingiusto, un po’ meno ladro di quello allora esistente.
Scriveva, dunque, Oswald Spengler nelle pagine conclusive de Il tramonto dell’Occidente (titolo originale: Der Untergang des Abendlandes, traduzione italiana di Julius Evola, Longanesi &C., Milano, 1957, 1978, vol. 2, pp. 1.390-98):
…contemporaneamente al razionalismo, si giunge alla scoperta della macchina a vapore che sovverte tutto e trasforma dai fondamenti l’immagine dell’economia. Fino a allora la natura aveva avuto la parte di una coadiutrice; ora la si riduce a una schiava e il suo lavoro, quasi per scherno, lo si calcola secondo cavalli-vapore. Dalla forza muscolare del negro sfruttata nelle aziende organizzate, si passò alle riserve organiche della scorza terrestre dove l’energia vitale di millenni è immagazzinata sotto specie di carbone, e infine lo sguardo si è portato sulla natura inorganica, le cui forze idrauliche sono state già arruolate ad integrare quelle del carbone. Coi milioni e miliardi di cavalli-vapore la densità di popolazione raggiunge un livello che nessun’altra civiltà avrebbe mai ritenuto possibile. Questo aumento è conseguenza della macchina, la quale vuol essere servita e diretta, in cambio centuplicando le forze di ogni individuo. È con riferimento alla macchina che la vita umana va ora a rappresentare un valore. Il lavoro diviene la grande parola d’ordine del pensiero etico. Già nel diciottesimo secolo esso in tutte le lingue aveva perduto il suo significato negativo originario. La macchina lavora e costringe l’uomo a lavorare insieme ad essa. Tutta la civiltà è giunta ad un tale grado di attivismo, che sotto di esso la terra trema.
E ciò che si è svolto nel corso di appena un secolo è uno spettacolo di una tale potenza, che l’uomo di una futura civiltà, di una civiltà con una anima diversa e con diverse passioni, avrà il sentimento che la stessa natura ne doveva esser stata scossa nel suo equilibrio. Anche in altri tempi la politica passò sopra città e popoli e l’economia umana incise profondamente sui destini del regno animale e vegetale; ma tutto ciò sfiorò appena la vita e di nuovo sparì. Invece questa tecnica lascerà le sue tracce anche quando tutto sarà dimenticato e sepolto. Questa passione faustiana ha trasformato l’imagine della superficie terrestre.
Qui ha agito un impulso della vita a trascendere e ad innalzarsi che, intimamente affine a quello del gotico, al tempo dell’infanzia della macchina a vapore trovò espressione nel monologo del Faust di Goethe. L’anima ebbra vuol portarsi di là da spazio e tempo. Una indicibile nostalgia la attira verso lontananze sconfinate. Ci si vorrebbe staccare dalla terra, ci si vorrebbe perdere nell’infinito, si vorrebbero sciogliere i vincoli del corpo ed errare nello spazio cosmico fra le stelle. Ciò che all’inizio fu cercato dal fervido empito ascensionale di un San Bernardo, ciò che Grünewald e Rembrandt evocarono negli sfondi dei loro quadri e Beethoven negli accordi trasfigurati dei suoi ultimi quartetti, torna di nuovo nell’ebbrezza spirituale donde procede questa fitta serie di invenzioni. È così che si è formato un sistema fantastico di mezzi di comunicazione che ci fa attraversare interi continenti in pochi giorni, e ci porta con città galleggianti di là da ogni oceano, che trafora montagne e lancia convogli a velocità pazze nei labirinti delle ferrovie sotterranee; e dalla veccia macchina a vapore, da tempo esaurita nelle sue possibilità, si è passati ai motori a gas per infine staccarsi dalle vie e dalle rotaie ed elevarsi negli spazi. Così la parola parlata in un attimo può esser inviata oltre ogni mare; prorompe il piacere per records di ogni specie e per le dimensioni inaudite, ambienti giganteschi vengono costruiti per macchine titaniche, navi enormi e ponti ad incredibile gettata, costruzioni pazzesche che raggiungono le nubi, forze meravigliose incatenate in un punto in modo tale che basta la mano di un bambino per metterle in movimento, opere di cristallo e di acciaio che vibrano nel frastuono di ogni specie di meccanismi nelle quali, questo essere minuscolo, si muove come un signore assoluto sentendo finalmente sotto di sé la natura.
E queste macchine nella loro forma sono sempre più disumanizzate, sempre più ascetiche, mistiche, esoteriche. Esse avvolgono la terra con una rete infinita di forze sottili, di correnti e di tensioni. Il loro coro si fa sempre più spirituale, sempre più chiuso. Queste ruote, questi cilindri, queste leve non parlano più. Ciò che in esse è più importante si ritira all’interno. La macchina è stata sentita come qualcosa di diabolico, e non a torto. Agli occhi del credente essa rappresenta la detronizzazione di Dio. Essa pone la causalità sacra nelle mani dell’uomo e questi la mette silenziosamente, irresistibilmente in moto con una specie di preveggente onnisapienza.
Mai come oggi un microcosmo si è sentito superiore al macrocosmo. Oggi vediamo piccoli esseri viventi che con la loro forza spirituale hanno ridotto il non vivente a dipendere da loro. Nulla sembra eguagliare un simile trionfo che è riuscito ad un’unica civiltà e forse solo per la durata di qualche secolo.
Ma proprio per tal via l’uomo faustiano è divenuto schiavo della sua creazione. Nelle sue mosse così come nelle sue abitudini di vita egli sarà spinto dalla macchina in una direzione sulla quale non vi sarà più né sosta, né possibilità di tornare indietro. Il contadino, l’artigiano, perfino il commerciante appaiono d’un tratto insignificanti di fronte a tre figure cui lo sviluppo della macchina ha dato forma: l’imprenditore, l’ingegnere e l’operaio industriale. In questa civiltà, e in nessun’altra al di fuori di essa, da un piccolo ramo dell’artigianato, cioè dall’economia dei manufatti, si è sviluppato il possente albero che oscura ogni altra professione: il mondo economico dell’industria meccanica. E questo mondo costringe sia l’imprenditore che l’operaio industriale ad obbedirgli. Entrambi sono gli schiavi, non i signori della macchina che ora comincia a manifestare il suo occulto potere demonico. Ma se le attuali teorie socialistiche hanno solo voluto vedere il rendimento dell’operaio non avanzando che per il lavoro di questi le loro rivendicazioni, un tale lavoro è tuttavia reso possibile esclusivamente dall’attività decisiva e sovrana dell’imprenditore. Il famoso detto del braccio possente che fa arrestare tutte le ruote è un errore. Per fermarle, non c’è bisogno di essere operai. Ma per tenerle in moto, non basta essere operai. È l’organizzazione, è il dirigente che costituisce il centro di tutto questo regno artificiale e complesso della macchina. Il pensiero, non il braccio, tiene insieme un tale regno. Ma proprio per questo, per mantenere in piedi siffatto edificio perennemente pericolante, una figura è ancor più importante della stessa energia di nature dominatrici in veste di imprenditori che fa scaturire da suolo intere città e che sa trasformare l’immagine del paesaggio – una figura, che nelle lotte politiche si è soliti dimenticare: l’ingegnere, sapiente sacerdote della macchina. Non sol il livello ma la stessa esistenza dell’industria dipendono dall’esistenza di centinaia di migliaia di menti qualificate e ben addestrate che dominano e fanno progredire incessantemente la tecnica.
L’ingegnere è propriamente il silenzioso dominatore e il destino dell’industria meccanica. Il suo pensiero è come possibilità quel che la macchina è come realtà. Si è temuto, materialisticamente, l’esaurirsi dei giacimenti di carbone. Ma finché esisteranno degli scopritori di sentieri di un rango superiore pericoli di tal genere saranno inesistenti. Solo quando questo esercito di inventori, il cui lavoro intellettuale forma una interna unità con quello della macchina, non avrà più una posterità, l’industria, malgrado la presenza di imprenditori e di operai si spegnerà. Anche se la salute dell’anima dei migliori delle future generazioni venisse considerata più importante di tutta la potenza della terra e se per influenza di quella mistica e di quella metafisica che oggi stano soppiantando il razionalismo il sentimento del satanismo della macchina guadagnasse terreno in una élite spirituale sollecita di quella salute – sarebbe l’equivalente del passaggio da Ruggero Bacone a Bernardo di Chiaravalle – anche in questo caso nulla arresterà la conclusione di questo grande dramma dello spirito nel quale le forze materiali hanno solo una parte secondaria.
L’industria occidentale ha sostato le vie già seguite dal commercio delle altre civiltà. Le correnti della vita economica si portano verso le sedi del «re carbone» e le aree ricche di materie prime; la natura viene saccheggiata, tutta la terra viene offerta in olocausto al pensiero faustiano sotto specie di energia. La terra che lavora è l’essenza della visione faustiana; nel contemplarla, muore il Faust della seconda parte. Del poema, nella quale il lavoro dell’imprenditore ha avuto la sua suprema trasfigurazione. È la suprema antitesi all’esistenza statica e sazia del periodo imperiale antico. L’ingegnere è il tipo più lontano dal pensiero giuridico romano ed egli otterrà che la sua economia abbia un proprio diritto: un diritto nel quale le forze e le opere prenderanno il posto delle persone e delle cose.
Ma non è meno titanico l’assalto sferrato dal danaro contro questa potenza spirituale. Anche l’industria è legata alla terra – come l’elemento contadino. Essa ha le sue sedi, i suoi impianti, le sue sorgenti di energia vincolate al suolo. Solo l’alta finanza è completamente libera, completamente inafferrabile. A partire dal 1789 le banche e quindi le Borse si sono sviluppate come una potenza autonoma grazie al bisogno di credito determinato dall’enorme incremento dell’industria e, come il danaro in tutte le civilizzazioni, questa potenza ora vuol essere l’unica potenza. L’antichissima lotta fra economia di produzione e economia di conquista prende ora le proporzioni di una lotta gigantesca e silenziosa di spiriti svolgentesi sul suolo delle città cosmopolite.
È la lotta disperata del pensiero tecnico, il quale difende la sua libertà contro il pensiero in funzione di danaro.
La dittatura del danari si consolida e si avvicina ad un apice naturale – ciò sta accadendo oggi nella civilizzazione faustiana come già è accaduto in ogni altra civilizzazione. Ed ora interviene qualcosa che può esser compreso solo da chi ha penetrato il significato essenziale del danaro faustiano. Se il danaro faustiano fosse qualcosa di tangibile, di concreto, la sua esistenza sarebbe eterna; ma poiché esso è una forma del pensiero, esso scomparirà non appena il mondo dell’economia sarà stato pensato a fondo: scomparirà per l’esaurirsi della materia che gli fa da substrato. Quel pensiero è già penetrato nella vita della campagna mobilitando il suolo; esso ha trasformato in senso affaristico ogni specie di mestiere; oggi esso penetra vittoriosamente nell’industria per mettere le mani sullo stesso lavoro produttivo dell’imprenditore, dell’ingegnere e dell’operaio. La macchina col suo seguito umano, la macchina, questa vera sovrana del secolo, è in procinto di soggiacere ad una più forte potenza. Ma questa sarà l’ultima delle vittorie che il danaro può riportare; dopo, comincerà l’ultima lotta, la lotta con la quale la civilizzazione conseguirà la sua forma conclusiva: la lotta tra danaro e sangue.
L’avvento del cesarismo spezzerà la dittatura del danaro e della sua arma politica, la democrazia. Dopo un lungo trionfo dell’economia cosmopolita e dei suoi interessi sulla forza politica creatrice, l’aspetto politico della vita dimostrerà di essere, malgrado tutto, il più forte. La spada trionferà sul danaro, la volontà da signore piegherà di nuovo la volontà da predatore. Se designiamo come capitalismo le potenze del danaro e se per socialismo s’intende invece la volontà di dar vita a un forte ordinamento politico-economico di là da ogni interesse di classe, ad un sistema compenetrato da una preoccupazione aristocratica e da un sentimento di dovere che mantengano il tutto in una salda forma in vista della lotta decisiva della storia – allora lo scontro tra capitalismo e socialismo potrà significare anche quello fra danaro e diritto. Le potenze private dell’economia vogliono avere mani libere perla conquista delle grandi fortune. Non intendono che nessuna legge sbarri loro la via. Vogliono leggi che vadano nel loro interesse e per questo si servono dello strumento che esse stesse si sono create, della democrazia e dei partiti pagati. Per far fronte ad un tale assalto il diritto ha bisogno di una tradizione aristocratica, dell’ambizione di forti schiatte capaci di trovare la loro soddisfazione non nell’accumulazione delle ricchezze bensì nei compiti propri ad un’autentica razza di capi di là da ogni vantaggio procurato dal danaro. Una potenza può esser rovesciata solo da un’altra potenza, non da un principio; ma al di fuori della potenza del danaro non ve ne è un’altra, oltre a quella ora detta. Il danaro potrà essere spodestato e dominato soltanto dal sangue. La vita è la prima e l’ultima delle correnti cosmiche in forma microcosmica. Essa costituisce la realtà per eccellenza nel mondo considerato come storia. Di fronte all’irresistibile ritmo agente nella successione delle generazioni alla fine scompare tutto ciò che l’essere desto ha costruito nei suoi mondi dello spirito. Nella storia l’essenziale è sempre e soltanto la vita, la razza, il trionfo della volontà di potenza, non il trionfo delle verità, delle invenzioni o del danaro. La storia mondiale è il tribunale del mondo ed essa ha sempre riconosciuto il diritto della vita più forte, più piena, più sicura di sé: il suo diritto all’esistenza, non curandosi se ciò venga riconosciuto giusto o ingiusto dall’essere desto. La storia ha sempre sacrificato la verità e la giustizia alla potenza, alla razza, condannando a morte gli uomini e i popoli per i quali la verità è stata più importante dell’azione e la giustizia più essenziale della potenza. Così lo spettacolo offerto da una civiltà superiore, da questo meraviglioso mondo di divinità, di arti, di idee, di battaglie, di città, si chiude di nuovo con i fatti elementari del sangue eterno, che fa tutt’uno con l’onda cosmica in perenne circolazione. Come già il periodo imperiale cinese e quello romano ce l insegnano, l’essere desto con tutta la sua ricchezza delle sue forme è destinato a tornare silenziosamente al servizio dell’essere, della vita; il tempo trionferà dello spazio ed è esso che col suo corso inesorabile incanalerà col suo corso fuggevole, che sul nostro pianeta rappresenta la civiltà, in quell’altro accidente, che è l’uomo: forma nella quale l’accidente «vita» scorre per un certo periodo, mentre nel mondo illuminato che si apre al nostro sguardo appaiono, dietro a tutto ciò, gli orizzonti in moto della storia della terra e di quella degli astri.
Ma per noi, posti da un destino in questa civiltà e in questo punto del suo divenire in cui il danaro celebra i suoi ultimi trionfi e in cui il suo erede, il cesarismo, ormai avanza silenziosamente e irresistibilmente, è strettamente definita la direzione di quel che possiamo volere e che dobbiamo volere, a che valga la pena di vivere. A noi non è data la libertà di realizzare una cosa anziché l’altra. Noi ci troviamo invece di fronte all’alternativa di fare il necessario o di non poter fare nulla. Un compito posto dalla necessità storia sarà in ogni caso realizzato: o col concorso dei singoli o ad onta di essi.
Ducunt fata volentem, nolentem trahunt.
Come ha osservato Domenico Conte (in Introduzione a Spengler, Laterza Editori, Bari, 1997, p. 30 sgg.), sono almeno tre le prospettive dalle quali Spengler osserva il movimento della storia universale.
La prima è una dimensione “popolare”, che vede la contrapposizione pura e semplice fra mondo della natura e mondo della storia (ciò che riecheggia la distinzione diltheyana fra scienze della natura e scienze dello spirito: cfr. F. Lamendola, Essenza della filosofia e coscienza della sua storicità nel pensiero di Wilhelm Dilthey). Il mondo della natura è statico, quello della storia è dinamico; il mondo della natura è sottoposto a leggi regolari e costanti, quello della storia è unico e irripetibile.
La seconda dimensione è, propriamente, quella della filosofia della storia, basata sulla concezione organicistica delle civiltà, che egli assimila a degli organismi viventi. È questo l’aspetto più noto della sua concezione filosofica, quello che ha destato maggiori consensi ma anche le critiche più pesanti, da parte di coloro i quali hanno evidenziato l’arbitrarietà di una analogia in senso stretto fra la vita degli organismi e la «vita» delle civiltà umane.
La terza prospettiva, che potremmo definire metafisica, è quella che ruota intorno al concetto spengleriano di «anima» delle civiltà. È qui che il pensatore tedesco ha sviluppato la parte più originale delle sue riflessioni, istituendo complessi e vorticosi parallelismi fra gli elementi formali delle singole civiltà e spaziando, con tono ispirato e quasi da veggente, attraverso i campi più svariati dell’arte, della scienza e della tecnica. Ed è qui che ha dispiegato quel suo stile turgido e solenne, drammatico e affascinante, che gli ha conquistato la simpatia di tante schiere di lettori ma anche, inevitabilmente, la diffidenza o il disdegno di molti filosofi di più austera concezione, ivi compresi gli idealisti ideali e, segnatamente, Benedetto Croce.
Quanto a noi, quello che più ci colpisce nella concezione della storia di Spengler è la brutalità, per così dire, ovvero la crudezza del suo vitalismo biologico. Unendo la volontà di Schopenhauer con la selezione naturale di Darwin, l’autore de Il tramonto dell’Occidente delinea un mondo della storia dominato da inesorabili leggi biologiche, ove tutto ciò che resta della libertà umana non è altro che la libertà di “scegliere” un destino tra segnato dalle forze della storia stessa, oppure di precipitare nell’impotenza più completa.
Spengler, come si è visto, è estremamente esplicito a questo riguardo: nella storia l’essenziale è sempre e soltanto la vita, la razza, il trionfo della volontà di potenza, non il trionfo delle verità, delle invenzioni o del danaro. La storia mondiale è il tribunale del mondo ed essa ha sempre riconosciuto il diritto della vita più forte, più piena, più sicura di sé: il suo diritto all’esistenza, non curandosi se ciò venga riconosciuto giusto o ingiusto dall’essere desto. La storia ha sempre sacrificato la verità e la giustizia alla potenza, alla razza, condannando a morte gli uomini e i popoli per i quali la verità è stata più importante dell’azione e la giustizia più essenziale della potenza.
Questo è il dramma di una concezione della storia chiusa in sé stessa, opera di un essere umano gettato a caso nel mondo e destinato a sparire, come già sono scomparse tante altre forme di vita prima di lui. Solo quando si dà per scontata la assoluta insignificanza dell’uomo in quanto persona unica e irripetibile, nonché la radicale immanenza della storia, si può giungere a proclamare, senza ombra di turbamento “sentimentale”, che la verità non ha alcuna importanza e che quello che conta è solo la potenza.
Peggio ancora, Spengler afferma – senza batter ciglio – che la storia è il tribunale del mondo, il che equivale ad innalzare la realtà effettuale al di sopra di tutto e implica, come logica conseguenza, l’adorazione dell’esistente, visto come l’affermazione, attraverso la lotta, di ciò che è migliore, nel senso di più forte. Si tratta di un tribunale che non riconosce valori o principi, ma solo dati di fatto; e che si inchina solo davanti a quelle forze storiche che sanno imporre, nietzscheanamente, una vita più piena e più sicura di sé, non una vita più giusta o più buona.
Nel clima di generale disorientamento intellettuale e morale dei primi decenni del Novecento, milioni di persone hanno fatto propria una tale filosofia della forza e si sono lasciate trascinare da capi politici che l’avevano adottato come loro credo incondizionato.
Negli ultimi giorni della sua vita, quando i carri armati sovietici irrompevano già per le vie di una Berlino distrutta dai bombardamenti aerei, Hitler ebbe a riconoscere – assai a denti stretti – che i Russi, alla fine, si erano dimostrati più forti dei Tedeschi e che, quindi, meritavano di divenire i nuovi signori dell’Europa. Anche Mussolini, negli ultimi tempi della sua vita, si era più volte lamentato del fatto che gli Italiani non erano stati all’altezza del grande destino offertosi a portata delle loro possibilità e che, pertanto, avevano meritato pienamente la sconfitta.
Ma se la storia non è altro che un tribunale del mondo fondato sul diritto del più forte, bisogna sempre aspettarsi che la forza di oggi ceda, domani, davanti a una forza più grande o semplicemente più spregiudicata; il che equivale a fare della storia umana una giungla insanguinata, popolata di zanne e di artigli sempre protesi a ghermire la preda, lacerarla e massacrarla. Il tribunale assomiglia pericolosamente a un mattatoio, da cui si levano incessantemente muggiti di terrore e grida di dolore; un tribunale che sanziona il diritto della forza in luogo della forza del diritto.
Se così fosse, vorrebbe dire che nessun progresso è stato compiuto dai tempi degli eroi omerici, trascinati in una spirale infinita di violenza per acquisire la gloria, che richiede sempre nuova violenza per conservare ed accrescere la gloria stessa: e ciò in un mondo ove tutti mirano allo stesso obiettivo, e ridotto, quindi, a un eterno, sanguinoso campo di battaglia di ciascuno contro tutti. Spengler, nemico dell’idea di progresso, non aveva alcuna difficoltà ad ammetterlo; ma noi, che pure non adoriamo l’idea (illuministica) del progresso, possiamo ammettere che la civiltà cui apparteniamo non abbia saputo minimamente elaborare l’insegnamento di quelle che l’hanno preceduta, per instaurare non già un mondo concreto di giustizia e armonia, ma almeno l’idea di una superiore giustizia e di una necessaria armonia?
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dimanche, 03 octobre 2010
Atlantis, Kush & Turan: Prehistoric Matrices of Ancient Civilizations in the Posthumous Work of Spengler
Atlantis, Kush, & Turan:
Prehistoric Matrices of Ancient Civilizations in the Posthumous Work of Spengler
Translated by Greg Johnson
Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/
Editor’s Note:
In this brief review essay, Robert Steuckers provides an introduction to Spengler’s writings on prehistory and early world history, which contain surprising theses, stunning metaphors, and quite interesting departures from The Decline of the West. These writings are almost unknown because they were never finished and were only published in incomplete form decades after Spengler’s death.
Oswald Spengler’s morphologies of cultures and civilizations in his most famous work, The Decline of the West, are widely known. However, Spengler’s positions changed after the publication of Decline. So claims the Italian Germanist Domenico Conte in his recent work on Spengler, Catene di civiltà: Studi su Spengler (Napoli: Ed. Scientifiche Italiane, 1994), which is a thorough study of the posthumous texts published by Anton Mirko Koktanek, especially Frühzeit der Weltgeschichte [The Early Period of World History], which gathers the fragments of a projected but never completed work The Epic of Man.
In his reflections immediately following the publication of The Decline of the West, Spengler distinguished four stages of human history which he designates simply as A, B, C, and D. Stage “A” lasted a hundred thousand years, from the first phases of hominization up to the lower Paleolithic. It is during this stage that the importance of the “hand” for man appears. It is, for Spengler, the age of Granite.
Stage “B” lasted ten thousand years and lay in the lower Paleolithic, between 20,000 and 7,000–6,000 BCE. During this age the concept of interior life was born: “then appeared the true soul, as unknown to men of stage ‘A’ as it is to a newborn baby.” In this stage in our history man was first “able to produce traces/memories” and to understand the phenomenon of death. For Spengler, it is the age of the Crystal. Stages “A” and “B” are inorganic.
Stage “C” lasted 3,500 years: it starts with the Neolithic era, running from the sixth millennium BCE to the third. It is the stage when thought started to be articulated in language and the most complex technological achievements became possible. In this stage are born “cultures” whose structures are “amoebic.”
Stage “D” is that of “world history” in the conventional sense of the term. It is the stage of “great civilizations,” each of which lasts approximately 1,000 years. These civilizations have structures of the “vegetable” type. Stages “C” and “D” are organic.
Spengler preferred this psychological-morphological classification to the classifications imposed by the directors of museums who subdivided the prehistoric and historical eras according to materials used for the manufacture of tools (stone, bronze, iron). In keeping with this psychological-morphological classification, Spengler also rejected the idea of the “slow, phlegmatic transformation” or continuous development, rooted in the progressivist ideas of the 18th century.
Evolution, for Spengler, is a matter of catastrophic blows, sudden irruptions, unexpected changes. “The history of the world proceeds from catastrophe to catastrophe, without any concern with whether we are able to understand them. Today, following H. de Vries, we call them ‘mutations.’ It is an internal transformation, which affects without warning all the members of a species, without ‘cause,’ naturally, like everything else in reality. Such is the mysterious rhythm of the world” (Man and Technics). There is thus no slow evolution but abrupt “epochal” transformations. Natura facit saltus [Nature makes leaps—Ed.].
Three Culture-Amoebas
In stage “C,” where the matrices of human civilization actually emerge, Spengler distinguishes three “culture-amoebas”: Atlantis, Kush, and Turan. This terminology appears only in his posthumous writings and letters. The civilizational matrices are “amoebas” and not “plants” because amoebas are mobile, not anchored to a particular place. The amoeba is an organism that continuously pulsates along an ever-shifting periphery. Then the amoeba subdivides itself as amoebas do, producing new individualities that move away from the amoeba-mother. This analogy implies that one cannot delimit with precision the territory of a civilization of stage “C,” because its amoebic emanations can be widely dispersed in space, extremely far away from the amoeba-mother.
“Atlantis” is the “West” and extends from Ireland to Egypt. “Kush” is the “South-east,” an area ranging between India and the Red Sea. “Turan” is the “North,” extending from Central Europe to China. Spengler, explains Conte, chose this terminology recalling “old mythological names” in order not to confuse them with later historical regions of the “vegetable” type, which are geographically rooted and circumscribed, whereas they are dispersed and not precisely localized.
Spengler does not believe in the Platonic myth of Atlantis, the sunken continent, but notes that an ensemble of civilizational remnants are locatable in the West, from Ireland to Egypt. “Kush” is a name that one finds in the Old Testament to indicate the territory of the ancient Nubians, the area inhabited by the Kushites. But Spengler places the culture-amoeba “Kush” more to the East, in an area between Turkestan, Persia, and India, undoubtedly inspired by the anthropologist Frobenius. As for “Turan,” it is “North,” the Turanic high-plateau, which he thought was the cradle of the Indo-European and Ural-Altaic languages. It is from there that the migrations of “Nordic” peoples departed (Spengler is not without racial connotations) to descend on Europe, India, and China.
Atlantis: Hot and Mobile; Kush: Tropical and Content
Atlantis, Kush, and Turan are cultures bearing morphological principles emerging mainly in the spheres of religion and the arts. The religiosity of Atlantis “hot and mobile,” is centered on the worship of the dead and the preeminence of the ultra-telluric sphere. The forms of burials, notes Conte, testify to the intense relationship with the world of the dead: The tombs always have a high profile, or are monumental; the dead are embalmed and mummified; food is left or brought for them. This obsessional relationship with the chain of ancestors leads Spengler to theorize the presence of a “genealogical” principle. The artistic expressions of Atlantis, adds Conte, are centered on stone constructions, as gigantic as possible, made for eternity, signs of a feeling of life which is not turned towards a heroic surpassing of limits, but towards a kind of “inert complacency.”
Kush developed a “tropical” and “content” religion. The problem of ultra-telluric life is regarded with far less anxiety than in Atlantis, because in the culture-amoeba of Kush a mathematics of the cosmos dominates (of which Babylon will be the most imposing expression), where things are “rigidly given in advance.” Life after death is a matter of indifference. If Atlantis is a “culture of the tombs,” in Kush tombs have no significance. One lives and procreates but forgets the dead. The central symbol of Kush is the temple, from which priests scrutinize celestial mathematics. If in Atlantis, the genealogical principle dominates, if the gods and goddesses of Atlantis are father, mother, son, daughter, in Kush, the divinities are stars. A cosmological principle dominates.
Turan: The Civilization of Heroes
Turan is the civilization of heroes, animated by a “cold” religiosity, centered on the mysterious meaning of existence. Nature is filled with impersonal powers. For the culture-amoeba of Turan, life is a battlefield: “for the man of the North (Achilles, Siegfried),” Spengler writes, “only life before death, the fight against destiny, counts.” The divine-human relationship is no longer one of dependence: “prostration ceases, the head remains high; there is ‘I’ (man) and you (gods).”
Sons guard the memory of their fathers but do not leave food for their corpses. There is no embalming or mummification in this culture, but cremation. The bodies disappear, are hidden in underground burials without monuments, or are dispersed to the four winds. All that remains of the dead is their blood in the veins of their descendants. Turan is thus a culture without architecture, where temples and burials have no importance and where only the terrestrial meaning of existence matters. Man lived alone, confronted with himself, in his house of wood or in his nomad’s tent.
The War Chariot
Spengler reserved his sympathy for the culture-amoeba of Turan, whose bearers were characterized by the love of adventure, implacable will power, a taste for violence, and freedom from vain sentimentality. They are “men of facts.” The various peoples of Turan were not bound by blood ties or a common language. Spengler does not utilize archaeological and linguistic research aiming to find the original fatherland of the Indo-Europeans or at reconstituting the source language of all the current Indo-European idioms: the bond which links the people of Turan is technical; it is the use of the war chariot.
In a lecture given in Munich on February 6th, 1934 entitled “Der Streitwagen und the Seine Bedeutung für den Gang der Weltgeschichte” (“The War Chariot and its Significance for the Course of World History”), Spengler explains why this weapon constitutes the key to understanding the history of the second millennium BCE It is, he says, the first complex weapon: One needs a war chariot (with 2 wheels and not a less mobile carriage with 4 wheels), a domesticated and harnessed animal, a meticulously trained warrior who will henceforth strike his enemies from above. With the war chariot is born a type of new man. The chariot is a revolutionary invention on the military plane, but also the formative principle of a new humanity. The warriors became professional because the techniques they had to handle were complex, and they came together as a caste of those who love risk and adventure; they made war the meaning of their life.
The arrival of these castes of impetuous “charioteers” upset very ancient orders: the Achaeans invaded Greece and settled in Mycenae; the Hyksos burst into Egypt. To the East, the Kassites descended on Babylon. In India, the Aryans bore down on the subcontinent, “destroyed the cities,” and settled on the ruins of the civilization of Mohenjo Daro and Harappa. In China, the Zhou arrived from the north, mounted on their chariots, like the Hyksos and their Greek counterparts.
From 1,200 BCE, warlike princes reigned in China, in India, and in the ancient world of the Mediterranean. The Hyksos and Kassites conquered two older civilizations of the South. Then three new civilizations carried by “dominating charioteers” emerged: the Greco-Roman, the Aryan civilization of India, and the Chinese civilization resulting from Zhou. These new civilizations, whose princes came from North, Turan, are “more virile and energetic that those born on banks of the Nile and Euphrates.” According to Spengler, however, these warlike charioteers sadly succumbed to the seductions of the softening South.
A Common Heroic Substrate
The theory of the rough simultaneity of the invasions of Greece, Egypt, India, and China was shared by Spengler and the sinologist Gustav Haloun. Both held that there is a common substrate, warlike and chariot-borne, of Mediterranean, Indian, and Chinese civilizations. It is a “heroic” civilization, as shown by the weapons of Turan. They are different from those of Atlantis. In addition to the chariot, they are the sword and the axe, which imply duels between combatants, whereas in Atlantis, the weapons are the bow and arrow, that Spengler judges “vile” because they make it possible to avoid direct physical confrontation with the adversary, “to look him right in the eyes.”
In Greek mythology, Spengler claims, the bow and arrows are remnants of earlier, pre-Hellenic influences: Apollo the archer originated in Asia Minor; Artemis is Libyan, as is Hercules. The javelin is also “telamon” [= Atlantid] while the jousting lance is “Turanic.” To understand these distant times, the study of the weapons is more instructive than that of kitchen utensils or jewels, Spengler concludes.
The Turanic soul also derives from a particular climate and a hostile landscape. Man must fight unceasingly against the elements, thus becomes harder, colder, more wintry. Man is not only the product of a “genealogical chain,” but equally of a “landscape.” Climatic rigor develops “moral strength.” The tropics soften the character, bringing us closer to a nature perceived as more matriarchal, supporting female values.
Spengler’s late writings and correspondence thus show that his views changed after the publication of The Decline of the West, where he valorized Faustian civilization to the detriment primarily of ancient civilization. His focus on the “chariot” gives a new dimension to his vision of history: the Greeks, the Romans, the Indo-Aryans, and the Chinese found favor in his eyes.
In The Decline of the West the mummification of the Pharaohs was considered as the Egyptian expression of a will to duration, which he opposed to the oblivion implied by Indian cremation. Later, he disdained “telamon” mummification as an obsession with the beyond, indicating an incapacity to face terrestrial life. “Turanic” cremation, on the other hand, indicates a will to focus one’s powers on real life.
A Change of Optics Dictated by Circumstances?
Spengler’s polycentric, relativistic, non-Eurocentric, non-evolutionist conception of history in The Decline of the West fascinated researchers and anthropologists outside the circles of the German right, particularly Alfred Kroeber and Ruth Benedict. His emphasis on the major historical role of castes of charioteers gives his late work a more warlike, violent, mobile dimension than revealed in Decline.
Can one attribute this change of perspective to the situation of a vanquished Germany, which sought to ally itself with the young USSR (from a Eurasian-Turanian perspective?), with India in revolt against Great Britain (that he formerly included in “Faustian civilization,” to which he then gave much less importance), with China of the “great warlords,” sometimes armed and aided by German officers?
Did Spengler, by the means of his lecture on the charioteers, seek to give a common mythology to German, Russian, Chinese, Mongolian, and Indian officers or revolutionaries in order to forge a forthcoming brotherhood of arms, just as the Russian “Eurasianists” tried to give the newborn Soviet Russia a similar mythology, implying the reconciliation of Turco-Turanians and Slavs? Is the radical valorization of the “Turanic” chariot charge is an echo of the worship of “the assault” found in “soldatic nationalism,” especially of the Jünger brothers and Schauwecker?
Lastly, why didn’t Spengler write anything on the Scythians, a people of intrepid warriors, masters of equestrian techniques, who fascinated the Russians and undoubtedly, among them, the theorists of the Eurasiansm? Finally, is the de-emphasis on racial factors in late Spengler due to a rancorous feeling toward the English cousins who had betrayed Germanic solidarity? Was it to promote a new mythology, in which the equestrian people of the continent, which include all ethnic groups (Mongolian Turco-Turanians, descendants of the Scythians, Cossacks and Germanic Uhlans), were to combine their efforts against the corrupt civilizations of the West and the South and against the Anglo-Saxon thalassocracies?
Don’t the obvious parallels between the emphasis on the war chariot and certain theses in Man and Technics amount to a concession to the reigning futuristic ideology, insofar as Spengler gives a technical rather than a religious explanation of the Turanian culture-amoeba? These are topics that the history of ideas will have to clarify in-depth.
Source: Nouvelles de Synergies européennes, no. 21, 1996.
00:10 Publié dans Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (1) | Tags : oswald spengler, allemagne, weimar, révolution conservatrice, protohistoire | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
lundi, 27 septembre 2010
Evola & Spengler
Evola & Spengler
by Robert STEUCKERS
Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/
Translated by Greg Johnson
“I translated from German, at the request of the publisher Longanesi . . . Oswald Spengler’s vast and celebrated work The Decline of the West. That gave the opportunity to me to specify, in an introduction, the meaning and the limits of this work which, in its time, had been world-famous.” These words begin a series of critical paragraphs on Spengler in Julius Evola’s The Way of Cinnabar (p. 177).
Evola pays homage to the German philosopher for casting aside “progressivist and historicist fancies” by showing that the stage reached by our civilization shortly after the First World War was not an apex, but, on the contrary, a “twilight.” From this Evola recognized that Spengler, especially thanks to the success of his book, made it possible to go beyond the linear and evolutionary conception of history. Spengler describes the opposition between Kultur and Zivilisation, “the former term indicating, for him, the forms or phases of a civilization that is qualitative, organic, differentiated, and vital, the latter indicating the forms of a civilization that is rationalist, urban, mechanical, shapeless, soulless” (p. 178).
Evola admired the negative description that Spengler gives of Zivilisation but is critical of the absence of a coherent definition of Kultur, because, he says, the German philosopher remained the prisoner of certain intellectual schemes proper to modernity. “A sense of the metaphysical dimension or of transcendence, which represents the essence of all true Kultur, was completely lacking in him” (p. 179).
Evola also reproaches Spengler’s pluralism; for the author of The Decline of the West, civilizations are many, distinct, and discontinuous compared to one another, each one constituting a closed unit. For Evola, this conception is valid only for the exterior and episodic aspects of various civilizations. On the contrary, he continues, it is necessary to recognize, beyond the plurality of the forms of civilization, civilizations (or phases of civilization) of the “modern” type, as opposed to civilizations (or phases of civilization) of the “Traditional” type. There is plurality only on the surface; at bottom, there is a fundamental opposition between modernity and Tradition.
Then Evola reproaches Spengler for being influenced by German post-romantic vitalist and “irrationalist” strains of thought, which received their most comprehensive and radical expression in the work of Ludwig Klages. The valorization of life is vain, explains Evola, if life is not illuminated by an authentic comprehension of the world of origins. Thus the plunge into existentiality, into Life, required by Klages, Bäumler, or Krieck, can appear dangerous and initiate a regressive process (one will note that the Evolian critique distinguishes itself from German interpretations, according exactly to the same criteria that we put forward while speaking about the reception of the work of Bachofen).
Evola thinks this vitalism leads Spengler to say “things that make one blush” about Buddhism, Taoism, Stoicism, and Greco-Roman civilization (which, for Spengler, is merely a civilization of “corporeity”). Lastly, Evola does not accept Spengler’s valorization of “Faustian man,” a figure born in the Age of Discovery, the Renaissance and humanism; by this temporal determination, Faustian man is carried towards horizontality rather than towards verticality. Regarding Caesarism, a political phenomenon of the era of the masses, Evola shares the same negative judgment as Spengler.
The pages devoted to Spengler in The Path of Cinnabar are thus quite critical; Evola even concludes that the influence of Spengler on his thought was null. Such is not the opinion of an analyst of Spengler and Evola, Attilio Cucchi (in “Evola, Tradizione e Spengler,” Orion no. 89, 1992). For Cucchi, Spengler influenced Evola, particularly in his criticism of the concept of the “West”: by affirming that Western civilization is not the civilization, the only civilization there is, Spengler relativizes it, as Guénon charges. Evola, an attentive reader of Spengler and Guénon, would combine elements of the the Spenglerian and Guénonian critiques. Spengler affirms that Faustian Western culture, which began in the tenth century, has declined and fallen into Zivilisation, which has frozen, drained, and killed its inner energy. America is already at this final stage of de-ruralized and technological Zivilisation.
It is on the basis of the Spenglerian critique of Zivilisation that Evola later developed his critique of Bolshevism and Americanism: If Zivilisation is twilight for Spengler, America is the extreme-West for Guénon, i.e., irreligion pushed to its ultimate consequences. In Evola, undoubtedly, Spenglerian and Guénonian arguments combine, even if, at the end of the day, the Guénonian elements dominate, especially in 1957, when the edition of The Decline of the West was published by Longanesi with a Foreword by Evola. On the other hand, the Spenglerian criticism of political Caesarism is found, sometimes word for word, in Evola’s books Fascism Seen from the Right and the Men Among the Ruins.
Dr. H. T. Hansen, the author of the Introduction to the German edition of Men Among the Ruins (Menschen inmitten von Ruinen [Tübingen: Hohenrain, 1991]), confirms the sights of Cucchi: several Spenglerian ideas are found in outline in Men Among the Ruins, notably the idea that the state is the inner form, the “being-in-form” of the nation; the idea that decline is measured to the extent that Faustian man has become a slave of his creations; the machine forces him down a path from which he can never turn back, and which will never allow him any rest. Feverishness and flight into the future are characteristics of the modern world (“Faustian” for Spengler) which Guénon and Evola condemn with equal strength.
In The Hour of Decision (1933), Spengler criticizes the Caesarism (in truth, Hitlerian National Socialism) as a product of democratic titanism. Evola wrote the Preface of the Italian translation of this work, after a very attentive reading. Finally, the “Prussian style” exalted by Spengler corresponds, according to Hansen, with the Evolian idea of the “aristocratic order of life, arranged hierarchically according to service.” As for the necessary preeminence of Grand Politics over economics, the idea is found in both authors. Thus the influence of Spengler on Evola was not null, despite what Evola says in The Path of Cinnabar.
Source: Nouvelles de Synergies européennes no. 21, 1996.
Note: Evola’s The Path of Cinnabar is now available in English translation from Arktos Media.
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mercredi, 25 août 2010
Spengler: Criticism & Tribute
Spengler: Criticism & Tribute
Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/
Editor’s Note:
Oswald Spengler’s Man and Technics and Revilo Oliver’s America’s Decline: The Education of a Conservative and The Origins of Christianity are available for purchase on this website.
Conceived before the First World War is Oswald Spengler’s magisterial work, Der Untergang des Abendlandes (Munich, 1918). Read in this country chiefly in the brilliantly faithful translation by Charles Francis Atkinson, The Decline of the West (New York, two volumes, 1926-28), Spengler’s morphology of history was the great intellectual achievement of our century. Whatever our opinion of his methods or conclusions, we cannot deny that he was the Copernicus of historionomy. All subsequent writings on the philosophy of history may fairly be described as criticism of the Decline of the West.
Spengler, having formulated a universal history, undertook an analysis of the forces operating in the immediately contemporary world. This he set forth in a masterly work, Die Jahre der Entscheidung, of which only the first volume could be published in Germany (Munich, 1933) and translated into English (The Hour of Decision, New York, 1934). One had only to read this brilliant work, with its lucid analysis of forces that even acute observers did not perceive until 25 or 30 years later, and with its prevision that subsequent events have now shown to have been absolutely correct, to recognize that its author was one of the great political and philosophical minds of the West. One should remember, however, that the amazing accuracy of his analysis of the contemporary situation does not necessarily prove the validity of his historical morphology.
The publication of Spengler’s first volume in 1918 released a spate of controversy that continues to the present day. Manfred Schroeter in Der Streit um Spengler (Munich, 1922) was able to give a précis of the critiques that had appeared in a little more than three years; today, a mere bibliography, if reasonably complete, would take years to compile and would probably run to eight hundred or a thousand printed pages.
Spengler naturally stirred up swarms of nit-wits, who were particularly incensed by his immoral and preposterous suggestion that there could be another war in Europe, when everybody knew that there just couldn’t be anything but World Peace after 1918, ’cause Santa had just brought a nice, new, shiny “League of Nations.” Such “liberal” chatterboxes are always making a noise, but no one with the slightest knowledge of human history pays any attention to them, except as symptoms.
Unfortunately, much more intelligent criticism of Spengler was motivated by emotional dissatisfaction with his conclusions. In an article in Antiquity for 1927, the learned R. G. Collingwood of Oxford went so far as to claim that Spengler’s two volumes had not given him “a single genuinely new idea,” and that he had “long ago carried out for himself” — and, of course, rejected — even Spengler’s detailed analyses of individual cultures. As a cursory glance at Spengler’s work will suffice to show, that assertion is less plausible than a claim to know everything contained in the Twelfth Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Collingwood, the author of the Speculum Mentis and other philosophical works, must have been bedeviled with emotional resentments so strong that he could not see how conceited, arrogant, and improbable his vaunt would seem to most readers.
It is now a truism that Spengler’s “pessimism” and “fatalism” was an unbearable shock to minds nurtured in the nineteenth-century illusion that everything would get better and better forever and ever. Spengler’s cyclic interpretation of history stated that a civilization was an organism having a definite and fixed life-span and moving from infancy to senescence and death by an internal necessity comparable to the biological necessity that decrees the development of the human organism from infantile imbecility to senile decrepitude. Napoleon, for example, was the counterpart of Alexander in the ancient world.
We were now, therefore, in a phase of civilizational life in which constitutional forms are supplanted by the prestige of individuals. By 2000, we shall be “contemporary” with the Rome of Sulla, the Egypt of the Eighteenth Dynasty, and China at the time when the “Contending States” were welded into an empire. That means that we face an age of world wars and what is worse, civil wars and proscriptions, and that around 2060 the West (if not destroyed by its alien enemies) will be united under the personal rule of a Caesar or Augustus. That is not a pleasant prospect.
The only question before us, however, is whether Spengler is correct in his analysis. Rational men will regard as irrelevant the fact that his conclusions are not charming. If a physician informs you that you have symptoms of arteriosclerosis, he may or may not be right in his diagnosis, but it is absolutely certain that you cannot rejuvenate yourself by slapping his face.
Every detached observer of our times, I think, will agree that Spengler’s “pessimism” aroused emotions that precluded rational consideration. I am inclined to believe that the moral level of his thinking was a greater obstacle. His “fatalism” was not the comforting kind that permits men to throw up their hands and eschew responsibilities. Consider, for example, the concluding lines of his Man and Technics (New York, 1932):
Already the danger is so great, for every individual, every class, every people, that to cherish any illusion whatever is deplorable. Time does not suffer itself to be halted; there is no question of prudent retreat or wise renunciation. Only dreamers believe that there is a way out. Optimism is cowardice.
We are born into this time and must bravely follow the path to the destined end. There is no other way. Our duty is to hold on to the lost position, without hope, without rescue, like that Roman soldier whose bones were found in front of a door in Pompeii, who, during the eruption of Vesuvius, died at his post because they forgot to relieve him. That is greatness. That is what it means to be a thoroughbred. The honorable end is the one thing that can not be taken from a man.
Now, whether or not the stern prognostication that lies back of that conclusion is correct, no man fit to live in the present can read those lines without feeling his heart lifted by the great ethos of a noble culture — the spiritual strength of the West that can know tragedy and be unafraid. And simultaneously, that pronouncement will affright to hysteria the epicene homunculi among us, the puling cowards who hope only to scuttle about safely in the darkness and to batten on the decay of a culture infinitely beyond their comprehension.
That contrast is in itself a very significant datum for an estimate of the present condition of our civilization …
Three Points of Criticism
Criticism of Spengler, therefore, if it is not to seem mere quibbling about details, must deal with major premises. Now, so far as I can see, Spengler’s thesis can be challenged at three really fundamental points, namely: (1) Spengler regards each civilization as a closed and isolated entity animated by a dominant idea, or Weltanschauung, that is its “soul.” Why should ideas, or concepts, the impalpable creations of the human mind, undergo an organic evolution as though they were living protoplasm, which, as a material substance, is understandably subject to chemical change and hence biological laws? This logical objection is not conclusive: Men may observe the tides, for example, and even predict them, without being able to explain what causes them. But when we must deduce historical laws from the four of five civilizations of which we have some fairly accurate knowledge, we do not have enough repetitions of a phenomenon to calculate its periodicity with assurance, if we do not know why it happens.
(2) A far graver difficulty arises from the historical fact that we have already mentioned. For five centuries, at least, the men of the West regarded modern civilization as a revival or prolongation of Graeco-Roman antiquity. Spengler, as the very basis of his hypothesis, regards the Classical world as a civilization distinct from, and alien to, our own — a civilization that, like the Egyptian, lived, died, and is now gone. It was dominated by an entirely different Weltanschauung, and consequently the educated men of Europe and America, who for five centuries believed in continuity, were merely suffering from an illusion or hallucination.
Even if we grant that, however, we are still confronted by a unique historical phenomenon. The Egyptian, Babylonian, Chinese, Hindu, and Arabian (“Magian”), civilizations are all regarded by Spengler (and other proponents of an organic structure of culture) as single and unrelated organisms: Each came into being without deriving its concepts from another civilization (or, alternatively, seeing its own concepts in the records of an earlier civilization), and each died leaving no offspring (or, alternatively, no subsequent civilization thought to see in them its own concepts). There is simply no parallel or precedent for the relationship (real or imaginary) which links Graeco-Roman culture to our own.
Since Spengler wrote, a great historical discovery has further complicated the question. We now know that the Mycenaean peoples were Greeks, and it is virtually certain that the essentials of their culture survived the disintegration caused by the Dorian invasion, and were the basis of later Greek culture. (For a good summary, see Leonard R. Palmer, Mycenaeans and Minoans, London, 1961). We therefore have a sequence that is, so far as we know, unique:
Mycenaean>Dark Ages>Graeco-Roman>Dark Ages>Modern.
If this is one civilization, it has had a creative life-span far longer than that of any other that has thus far appeared in the world. If it is more than one, the interrelations form an exception to Spengler’s general law, and suggest the possibility that a civilization, if it dies by some kind of quasi-biological process, may in some cases have a quasi-biological power of reproduction.
The exception becomes even more remarkable if we, unlike Spengler, regard as fundamentally important the concept of self-government, which may have been present even in Mycenaean times (see L. R. Palmer, Mycenaeans and Minoans, cited above, p. 97). Democracies and constitutional republics are found only in the Graeco-Roman world and our own; such institutions seem to have been incomprehensible to other cultures.
(3) For all practical purposes, Spengler ignores hereditary and racial differences. He even uses the word “race” to represent a qualitative difference between members of what we should call the same race, and he denies that that difference is to any significant extent caused by heredity. He regards biological races as plastic and mutable, even in their physical characteristics, under the influence of geographical factors (including the soil, which is said to affect the physical organism through food) and of what Spengler terms “a mysterious cosmic force” that has nothing to do with biology. The only real unity is cultural, that is, the fundamental ideas and beliefs shared by the peoples who form a civilization. Thus Spengler, who makes those ideas subject to quasi-biological growth and decay, oddly rejects as insignificant the findings of biological science concerning living organisms.
It is true, of course, that man is in part a spiritual being. Of that, persons who have a religious faith need no assurance. Others, unless they are determined blindly to deny the evidence before us, must admit the existence of phenomena of the kind described by Franz E. Winkler, M.D., in Man: The Bridge Between Two Worlds (New York, Harper, 1960), and, of course, by many other writers. And every historian knows that no one of the higher cultures could conceivably have come into being, if human beings are merely animals.
But it is also true that the science of genetics, founded by Father Mendel only a century ago and almost totally neglected down to the early years of the Twentieth Century, has ascertained biological laws that can be denied only by denying the reality of the physical world. Every educated person knows that the color of a man’s eyes, the shape of the lobes of his ears, and every one of his other physiological characteristics is determined by hereditary factors. It is virtually certain that intellectual capacity is likewise produced by inheritance, and there is a fair amount of evidence that indicated that even moral capacities are likewise innate.
Man’s power of intervention in the development of inherited qualities appears to be entirely negative, thus affording another melancholy proof that human ingenuity can easily destroy what it can never create. Any fool with a knife can in three minutes make the most beautiful woman forever hideous, and one of our “mental health experts,” even without using a knife, can as quickly and permanently destroy the finest intellect. And it appears that less drastic interventions, through education and other control of environment, may temporarily or even permanently pervert and deform, but are powerless to create capacities that an individual did not inherit from near or more remote ancestors.
The facts are beyond question, although the Secret Police in Soviet Russia and “liberal” spitting-squads in the United States have largely succeeded in keeping these facts from the general public in the areas they control. But no amount of terrorism can alter the laws of nature. For a readable exposition of genetics, see Garrett Hardin’s Nature and Man’s Fate (New York, Rinehart, 1959), which is subject only to the reservation that the laws of genetics, like the laws of chemistry, are verified by observation every day, whereas the doctrine of biological evolution is necessarily an hypothesis that cannot be verified by experiment.
The Race Factor
It is also beyond question that the races of mankind differ greatly in physical appearance, in susceptibility to specific diseases, and in average intellectual capacity. There are indications that they differ also in nervous organization, and possibly, in moral instincts. It would be a miracle if that were not so, for, as is well known, the three primary races were distinct and separate at the time that intelligent men first appeared on this planet, and have so remained ever since. The differences are so pronounced and stable that the proponents of biological evolution are finding it more and more necessary to postulate that the differences go back to species that preceded the appearance of the homo sapiens. (See the new and revised edition of Dr. Carleton S. Coon’s The Story of Man, New York, Knopf, 1962.)
That such differences exist is doubtless deplorable. It is certainly deplorable that all men must die, and there are persons who think it deplorable that there are differences, both anatomical and spiritual, between men and women. However, no amount of concerted lying by “liberals,” and no amount of decreeing by the Warren [Supreme Court] Gang, will in the least change the laws of nature.
Now there is a great deal that we do not know about genetics, both individual and racial, and these uncertainties permit widely differing estimates of the relative importance of biologically determined factors and cultural concepts in the development of a civilization. Our only point here is that it is highly improbable that biological factors have no influence at all on the origin and course of civilizations. And to the extent that they do have an influence, Spengler’s theory is defective and probably misleading.
Profound Insights
One could add a few minor points to the three objections stated above, but these will suffice to show that the Spenglerian historionomy cannot be accepted as a certainty. It is, however, a great philosophical formulation that poses questions of the utmost importance and deepens our perception of historical causality. No student of history needed Spengler to tell him that a decline of religious faith necessarily weakens the moral bonds that make civilized society possible. But Spengler’s showing that such a decline seems to have occurred at a definite point in the development of a number of fundamentally different civilizations with, of course, radically different religions provides us with data that we must take into account when we try to ascertain the true causes of the decline. And his further observation that the decline was eventually followed by a sweeping revival of religious belief is equally significant.
However wrong he may have been about some things, Spengler has given us profound insights into the nature of our own culture. But for him, we might have gone on believing that our great technology was merely a matter of economics — of trying to make more things more cheaply. But he has shown us, I think, that our technology has a deeper significance — that for us, the men of Western civilization, it answers a certain spiritual need inherent in us, and that we derive from its triumphs as satisfaction analogous to that which is derived from great music or great art.
And Spengler, above all, has forced us to inquire into the nature of civilization and to ask ourselves by what means — if any — we can repair and preserve the long and narrow dikes that alone protect us from the vast and turbulent ocean of eternal barbarism. For that, we must always honor him.
Journal of Historical Review, vol. 17, no. 2 (March-April 1998), 10-13.
00:07 Publié dans Philosophie, Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : allemagne, révolution conservatrice, oswald spengler, droite, conservatisme, civilisations, cultures, weimar, années 20, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
lundi, 08 février 2010
Neue Formen der Weltpolitik
Neue Formen der Weltpolitik
machen.
Oswald Spengler, Aus einem Vortrage "Neue Formen der Weltpolitik", gehalten am 28. April 1924 im Überseeclub zu Hamburg.
http://www.ueberseeclub.de/vortrag/v...1924-04-28.pdf
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Ondergang van het Avondland - Het decadentiebegrip bij Spengler en Evola
ONDERGANG VAN HET AVONDLAND
HET DECADENTIEBEGRIP BIJ SPENGLER EN EVOLA
door Peter LOGGHE
Ex: http://www.peterlogghe.be/
Decadentie, verval van beschaving, het houdt de mensheid – en in elk geval het bewuste, het denkende deel ervan – al eeuwen in de ban. Het klinkt banaal, maar net als mensen hebben culturen, beschavingen geen eeuwigheidsduur en voelt iedereen bijna met de elleboog aan wanneer wij ons in een opgaande fase of in een neergaande fase van onze beschaving bevinden. Decadentie is een niet eenduidig te vatten fenomeen, er werden ganse boekenkasten over volgeschreven : niet alleen zijn er verschillende vormen van decadentie en verval, economisch, cultureel, demografisch, militair en tenslotte politiek, maar de verschillende vormen kunnen elkaar versterken of de invloed van deze of gene vorm afzwakken. Twee vragen houden geïnteresseerden bezig :
- Hoe ontstaat decadentie ? Wat is decadentie en waardoor ontstaat ze ?
- Zijn er wetmatigheden werkzaam ? Verloopt decadentie overal en altijd volgens een bepaald stramien en kunnen we m.a.w. het verloop, de uitkomst van de decadentie voorspellen ? Kunnen wij het proces positief beïnvloeden ?
1. OVER DE ACTUALITEIT VAN HET DENKEN OVER DECADENTIE
Niet alleen historici, cultuurfilosofen en sociologen hadden en hebben oog voor deze vragen, Evola, Spengler en Nietzsche zijn namen die in dit verband automatisch in het oog springen, maar ook natuurwetenschappers als Konrad Lorenz of prof. Eibl-Eibesfeldt laten zich in dit verband niet onbetuigd. Zo noteerde Karl Heinz Weissmann in TeKoS 113 : “Lorenz liet zich niet afschrikken en duidde de eigenlijke ondermijning van elk organisme aan als “decadentie”. Onder decadentie verstond hij als bioloog het “verstoren van de totaliteit van het systeem” (…) “ (1). Maar wij kunnen nog een stap verder zetten. Ook het fenomenale boek van J. J. Tolkien, In de Ban van de Ring – met de meesterlijke verfilming – kan zonder enig probleem in de literatuur over decadentie worden ondergebracht. Dreiging van buiten (Sauron !) wordt gecombineerd met interne zwakte (Theoden in Rohan, tot hij door Gandalf wordt geholpen, en Denethor in Gondor).
Over decadentie is eigenlijk in veel culturen nagedacht, de meeste traditionele maatschappijen hadden er zelfs mythes over – we komen er nog op terug. De eerste moderne denker over decadentie, meent althans Gerd Klaus Kaltenbrunner (2), was Niccolo Machiavelli (gestorven in 1527). Hij noemt hem zelfs een groot theoreticus van de decadentie. Machiavelli studeerde vlijtig op de antieke geschiedenisschrijvers en als diplomaat en politicus in het politiek zeer woelige en verdeelde Italië – de periode van De Medicis - deed hij ervaringen op, die hij combineerde met de conclusies die hij uit zijn studies trok. Hij ontwikkelde een theorie over de oorzaken van het politieke verval en de voorwaarden voor politieke grootheid, vernieuwing en regeneratie, heropstanding zeg maar. Hij droeg zijn Discorsi op aan die jongeren van zijn tijd die het verval afwezen en een nieuwe virtu voorbereidden. De necessità, waarover Machiavelli het heeft, staat los van elk determinisme en daarom kan Niccolo Machiavelli eigenlijk in geen enkel opzicht worden beschouwd als een pessimist. Want het is steeds mogelijk – houdt Machiavelli ons voor – met scheppingskracht het verval tegen te houden. En die kringen die het algemeen belang kunnen terugbrengen tot haar kern, houden ook het welzijn van de gemeenschap het best in stand. Die staten, die institutionele voorzorgsmaatregelen tot zelf-vernieuwing afwijzen, schrijft Machiavelli, zijn het best toegerust en hebben veruit de beste toekomstperspectieven, want het middel om zich te hernieuwen, bestaat erin terug te keren tot de eigen oorsprong. Want alle begin moet iets goeds hebben ! Het moet dus mogelijk zijn, schrijft een historicus-filosoof in de 16e eeuw, om met oorspronkelijke inzichten vanuit dit begin opnieuw te starten.
Op zich een optimistische ingesteldheid, misschien kenmerkend voor de renaissance-mens van de late Middeleeuwen. Latere cultuurfilosofen zullen opnieuw aanknopen bij de cyclische theorieën, en ipso facto het geheel eerder pessimistisch inkleuren.
Is er iets actueler te vinden dan het fenomeen decadentie ? Is er een prangender vraag dan : houdt Europa het vol ? Worden wij niet onder de voet gelopen ? Hoe een economie draaiende houden met een demografische ontwikkeling zoals in gans Europa ?
De laatste decennia toonden ons een eigenaardige revival – een eigenaardig woord in dit verband – van het nadenken over decadentie. Een nieuwe oogst aan filosofen en theorieën over ondergang. Er was niet alleen Fukuyama - het einde van de geschiedenis, u weet wel – of Samuel Huntington met Botsende beschavingen (3), wij moeten het niet eens meer zo ver zoeken om de relevantie en de toepasbaarheid van het begrip decacentie en de cultuurtheorieën vast te stellen. Concreet : het opiniestuk van filosoof Paul Cliteur in De Standaard van 14 en 15 februari 2004, met als titel Het decadentie cultuurrelativisme. Het artikel mag gekoppeld aan het recente boek van dezelfde Paul Cliteur, Tegen de decadentie (4). Zonder de stellingen van de heer Cliteur aan een kritisch onderzoek te onderwerpen, wil ik er gewoon even op wijzen dat de filosoof een rechte lijn trekt tussen het antieke Griekenland en Europa. Hij legt ons de volgende redenering voor : Een beschaving, die open staat voor àlle tradities, die alle waarden de moeite waard vindt, is decadent, is een beschaving die niet meer in zichzelf gelooft, is voorbestemd om ten onder te gaan.
Wij blijven rond de centrale vraag draaien : wat is decadentie ? Is ze onvermijdelijk ? En is het stellen van de vraag of onze beschaving decadent is geworden, niet onmiddellijk het beste bewijs dat wij inderdaad decadent zijn ?
Toevallig een artikel in Junge Freiheit voor ogen, Die heroische Existenz im Geistigen (5).
Daarin stelt de reeds geciteerde Weissmann de filosoof-socioloog Arnold Gehlen (1904-1976) aan het publiek voor, de man die zich vooral bezighield met het bestuderen en het koel analyseren van “het verval”. Wanneer begint het proces van verval in een gebouw, dat mensen hebben opgetrokken en dat ze in een relatief korte tijdspanne zien ontbinden ? Gehlen is dé anti-romanticus, en wie probeert zijn conservatisme te verklaren vanuit een nostalgische blik op het Wilhelminische Duitsland bijvoorbeeld, wens ik veel geluk toe. Arnold Gehlen verwierp het streven naar voormoderne toestanden, dit leek hem totaal nutteloos en zinloos, zonder doel. De fase van de sociale ordening zijn we endgültig voorbij, schrijft de Duitse auteur kort na de Tweede Wereldoorlog, die tijden komen niet meer terug. Wij bevinden ons in het tijdperk van Mensch und Technik, culturele vormen verstenen, grote geestelijke opwellingen zijn niet meer te verwachten. Pessimisme pur sang ? Later zou Gehlen hier en daar wel correcties aanbrengen en zou hij proberen de mens weer iets centraler te zetten en opnieuw het statuut van “natuurlijk wezen” meegeven. Maar hij bleef een pessimist. Hij ziet uiteindelijk maar twee mogelijke houdingen : ofwel, wat hij omschreef als de nihilistische houding, het grote Opgeven, het meedrijven met de stroom, “het zal mijn tijd wel doen” – ofwel de heroïsche houding, bereid zijn dat oorspronkelijke, dat aparte te realiseren, maar in het besef dat de wereld waarschijnlijk toch verloren is.
Even terugkomen op Paul Cliteur, die de superioriteit van de Westerse moderne wereld dik in de verf zet. De betreurde Julien Freund, Frans socioloog, had het in zijn bijdrage voor één van de dossiers “H” van de uitgeverij L’Age d’Homme (6) over de decadentietheorie van J. Evola. En in tegenstelling tot diegenen die de superioriteit van de moderne wereld poneren, beklemtoonde de Italiaanse filosoof juist “de decadente natuur van dezelfde moderne wereld”, wat ook betekent dat ze gedoemd is om te verdwijnen.
Deze inleiding besluiten ? Het fenomeen decadentie heeft zowat iedereen beziggehouden, wetenschappers van alle slag en soort, politieke denkers, filosofen, schrijvers van alle politieke gezindten en overtuigingen. Elkeen probeerde het begrip in te passen in het eigen denk- en waardensysteem. Zelfs marxisten als Lukacs – het marxisme is toch eerder een liniair gerichte filosofie ? – vonden het thema zo interessant dat ze erover publiceerden. Maar decadentie is een thema bij uitstek van rechts, van het conservatieve kamp. Anderen leggen het conservatieve kamp graag een verkrampte houding t.o.v. decadentie in de mond. Maar : “Lorenz hield het decadentieproces echter niet voor onvermijdelijk. En rechts neigt er slechts uitzonderlijk naar om de idee van een involutie aan te houden, de idee dus van een onvermijdelijke neergang, hoe sceptisch hij voor de rest ook staat tegenover het begrip “vooruitgang”. Normaal gezien vindt men (in het conservatieve kamp) voorstanders van de idee van een wisselend spel van opgang en verval, van een alternerend proces, waarin decadentie en hergeboorte elkaar opvolgen.” (7)
Het kan wellicht nuttig zijn de twee belangrijkste epigonen van het conservatief denken over decadentie, tevens de filosofen met de meest uitgesproken – én tegelijk de meest omstreden - mening hierover, aan u voor te stellen. Het is de bedoeling van deze bijdrage om de aandacht te richten op het begrip decadentie bij de Duitse filosoof Oswald Spengler, auteur van het veel geciteerde maar minder gelezen Untergang des Abendlandes (8) verschenen in 1923, en bij Julius Evola, de Italiaanse filosoof en auteur van o.a. Rivolta contro il mondo moderno (9), verschenen in 1934.
2. OSWALD SPENGLER – met Duitse Gründlichkeit
Belangrijkste werken van Oswald Spengler :
1918 Untergang des Abenlandes, Band I
1920 Preussentum und Sozialismus
1921 Pessimismus
1922-1923 Untergang des Abendlandes, Band I + II
1924 Neubau des deutschen Reiches
1924 Politische Pflichten der deutschen Jugend
1931 Der Mensch und die Technik
1932 Politische Schriften
1933 Jahre der Entscheidung
Postume uitgave bezorgd door Hildegard Kornhardt
1937 Reden und Aufsätzen
1941 Gedanken
Postume uitgaven bezorgd door Anton Mirko Koktanek
1963 Briefe 1913-1936
1965 Urfragen
1966 Frühzeit der Weltgeschichte
.
Op het leven zelf van Oswald Spengler gaan wij niet uitgebreid in, maar geïnteresseerde lezers willen wij graag doorverwijzen naar de studie van Frits Boterman (10). Een zo uitgebreide en goed gedocumenteerde studie dat wij in de loop van deze bijdrage nog graag wat zullen verwijzen naar de bevindingen van de heer Boterman.
Oswald Spengler werd geboren in 1880 en stierf in 1936, drie jaar na de machtsovername door Hitler, en drie jaar voor het begin van de Tweede Wereldoorlog. Boterman beschrijft Spengler als een man die zowel thuis hoort in de 19e eeuw – romantisch, visionair en met een zwak voor metafysici – als in de 20e eeuw – met zijn nuchterheid, diagnosticerend, futurologisch, en een groot zwak voor techniek. Hij erfde van zijn moeder de gevoelige geest, zijn sterk geworteld pessimisme en een bepaald künstlerisches aanvoelen. Spengler zelf zag zich graag als een dromer, een dichter en een visionair. Hij wilde de geschiedenis niet wetenschappelijk aanpakken, omdat de geschiedenis daarmee te kort zou worden gedaan. Neen : “Geschichte wissenschaftlich behandeln zu wollen, ist im letzten Grunde immer etwas Widerspruchvolles. Natur soll man wissenschaftlich behandeln, über Geschichte soll man dichten” (11). Maar Boterman ziet tegelijkertijd de gladschedelige beursmakelaar, met harde ogen, totaal illusieloos, vol cynisme, het gezicht van de andere Spengler, die tot politieke daden bereid was, die Mussolini vereerde, en de Weimardemocratie verafschuwde. Hij zag in de autoritaire staat de voorbode van een nieuw, imperiaal caesarisme, misschien één van de laatste overlevingsfases van de Avondlandse beschaving.
Het geschiedenisbeeld van Oswald Spengler
In wezen is Oswald Spengler dus een introvert, gevoelig persoon, een kunstenaar, een romantische estheet. En reeds zeer vroeg kwam hij tot de bevinding dat de lijnvormige of dialectische vooruitgangsidee op een leugen berustte, berustte op wishfull thinking eerder dan op de realiteit. Spengler hield het bij het bestaan van een aantal soevereine culturen, waarvan elk apart haar eigen leven, wil, voelen en lotsbestemming had. En deze culturen, die met de kracht van de oerwereld in een bepaald gebied ontstaan, zijn eigenlijk het best te vergelijken met plantaardige organismen, die opbloeien, rijpen, verwelken en tenslotte afsterven. Dit biologisme, dat ook in andere wetenschapstakken zijn invloed liet gelden, werd tevens één van de aanvalspunten van tegenstanders van Spengler : waarom zouden culturen, die niets plantaardigs hebben, een ontwikkeling doormaken als planten ?
Spengler onderscheidde 8 culturen – organismen :
De Egyptische (met inbegrip van de Kretenzische en de Minoïsche)
De Babylonische cultuur
De Indische cultuur
De Chinese cultuur
De Grieks-Romeinse cultuur
De Arabische cultuur
De Oud-Amerikaanse, Mexicaanse cultuur
De Avondlandse cultuur
In het Rusland van Dostojevski’s figuren zal Spengler de kern zien van een nieuwe cultuur, in zoverre Rusland erin slaagt zich te ontdoen van het uit het Westen geïmporteerde marxisme.
Elke cultuur, meent Oswald Spengler, is een in zich gesloten gansheid, een vensterloze monade, waarin alle niveau’s morfologisch samenhangen. Boterman schrijft dat ze de uitdrukking is van een onvervangbare ziel, die elke cultuur belichaamt. Zelfs de meest prozaïsche uitdrukkingen, instellingen, etc., hebben ook steeds een symbolische waarde. Ze zijn de getuigen, samen met de mythes, de religies, kunst en filosofie, van een supra-individueel levensgevoel, een fundamentele houding ook t.o.v. tijd en ruimte, verleden en toekomst. Binnen de Avondlandse cultuur hebben luidsprekers, een cheque, de dubbele boekhouding geen geringere symbolische waarde dan de gotische dom, het contrapunt in de muziek.
De cultuur van Griekenland en Rome omschrijft de auteur als apollinisch : ze is gericht op het heden, is a-historisch, en valt voor het genie van de plastiek (beeldhouwwerk bvb.), ze is somatisch. De Arabische cultuur, waar Spengler ook de Perzische, de vroegchristelijke en de Byzantijnse wereld toe rekent, krijgt het etiket magisch mee : haar oersymbool is de grot, en in de centrale koepelbouw vindt het grotgevoel haar hoogste uitdrukking, net als in de apocalystiek en de alchemie, en de goudgrond van de Byzantijnse mozaïeken. De oud-Egyptische cultuur is “een incarnatie van de zorg”, en die grondhouding vindt men terug in de bewateringsaanleg, de beambtenhiërarchie en de mummiecultus, het hiëroglyfenschrift, en de keuze voor basalt en graniet voor de beeldhouwwerken. De auteur omschrijft de Avondlandse cultuur als faustisch. Ook deze cultuur, waarvan het grondsymbool de ruimte is – let op de gotische dom, in de hoogte gebouwd, fuga’s van Bach, de moderne techniek – is ondertussen aan haar verval begonnen, bevindt zich in de fase van de beschaving, de laatste fase van elke cultuurcyclus. Elke cultuurcyclus omvat ongeveer een periode van duizend jaar.
Kritiek kreeg Oswald Spengler met emmers over zich: de marxistische theoreticus George Lukàcs had het in zijn boek Die Zerstörung der Vernunft over het dilettantisme van Spengler, de cynische openheid, absurditeiten en mystiek van de auteur. Thomas Mann, de liberale rationalist Theodor Geiger (“één van de ergste boeken van onze eeuw”), iedereen had wel iets over de theorieën in Untergang des Abendlandes te zeggen (12). Gerd-Klaus Kaltenbrunner schat de situatie juister in als hij vermeldt dat zoveel schuim op de mond van critici meestal een teken is van de armoede van de tegenargumenten. En een figuur als Theodor Adorno vindt dat Oswald Spengler zijn tegenstander nog steeds niet heeft gevonden.
Frits Boterman past het geheel goed samen : Untergang des Abendlandes was het meest gelezen geschiedenisfilosofisch werk van de Republiek van Weimar, en zijn auteur heeft de 20e eeuw heel duidelijk mee bepaald (13).
Welke kenmerken zijn er Boterman nu bijgebleven als zeer belangrijk ? Wij sommen ze even op :
Spengler heeft de bedoeling met zijn Untergang de diagnose van de cultuurcrisis te stellen en tegelijkertijd een prognose over de ondergang van faustische cultuur. Aan de hand van de zgn. morfologische methode probeerde de Duitse filosoof culturen met elkaar te vergelijken en de crisis van de westerse cultuur in zijn laatste fase, die van beschaving, te beschrijven. Boterman stelt dat Spengler de bedoeling had niet louter de populaire cultuurgeschiedenis te schrijven maar hij wilde doordringen tot een diepere laag van de historische werkelijkheid, de fundamentele vragen des levens aansnijden, en de metafysische kern van het leven vatten (leven, tijd, lot). Boterman noemt dit de metafysische laag in het werk van Oswald Spengler, hij was op zoek naar de “metaphysische Struktur der historischen Menschheit” (14), hij wilde op een intuïtieve manier doordringen tot een diepere laag van de werkelijkheid en de “onzichtbare” patronen van de geschiedenis blootleggen. Spengler verweet anderen dat ze zich te weinig met metafysica bezighielden, en zal door Julius Evola hetzelfde verwijt krijgen toegespeeld !
Het cultuurcyclisch systeem. Naast de metafysische kern van het leven is er het leven zelf, de ontwikkeling ervan, het biologische leven van de cultuur als een organisme. Culturen zijn organismen die te vergelijken zijn met dieren of planten. Hiermee maakt hij ook de evolutie van cultuur naar beschaving duidelijk. Dit is de tweede laag, de cultuurmorfologisch-cultuurcyclische laag
Er is de derde laag: het geheel van de politieke consequenties die Oswald Spengler uit zijn cultuurfilosofie trok. Vooral in het tweede deel van zijn Untergang worden zijn politieke ideeën verder ontwikkeld. Ze werden ook op een later moment aangebracht dan de vorige twee niveau’s. De drie niveau’s bevatten een hoge samenhang en de uitspraak van Tracy B. Strong, aangehaald door Frits Boterman, vat het geheel goed samen : “Paradoxaal genoeg is hij zowel een onbuigzaam reactionair als ook een mysticus” (15). Wat Spengler op politiek vlak nastreefde, was Duitsland een nieuwe zonnereligie geven, en een wereldrijk. Vergeten we de tijdsomstandigheden niet : het eerste deel van Untergang des Abendlandes was grotendeels reeds in 1913 geschreven en werd gepubliceerd in 1918. Het tweede deel, met de focus op de politieke gevolgtrekkingen van een en ander, pas in 1922-1923.
Spenglers ergste vijand, Heinrich Rickert, verweet hem zijn modern biologisme. En van dat biologisme een verband leggen naar Nietzsche is heel eenvoudig, want ook de filosoof met de hamer is schatplichtig aan dit biologisme, dat leert dat zijn niet alleen betekent dat het zijnde moet worden behouden, maar zich moet vermeerderen, vergroten, aan uitbreiding doen. De Wille zur Macht. De cultuurmorfologie van Spengler wordt door Rickert op een hoopje geworpen met Nietzsche.
Nu kan de invloed van Friedrich Nietzsche op de auteur van Untergang moeilijk worden overschat, maar het zou een fout zijn niet te wijzen op de invloed van de filosoof Danilevski en van de historici E. Meyer en Friedrich Schiller.
Oswald Spengler sprak zich meermaals uit tegen absolute waarheden en eeuwige waarden, wat in zijn cultuurfilosofie regelmatig terug komt. Er is géén universele geschiedenis van de mensheid en elke moraal is cultureel bepaald. Ook Spengler is iemand die zich verzet tegen een eurocentrische benadering van de mensheid, zonder daarom ook maar even te vervallen in de in bepaalde milieus zo mondain staande “weg-met-ons”- mentaliteit. Spengler laat echter ook aan duidelijkheid niets over : het Westen gaat onvermijdelijk ten onder, de vrijheid van de mens is uiterst beperkt, en elke filosofie was en is tijdsgebonden, dus relativistisch en perspectivistisch. Hij legde als cultuurcriticus bloot wat er aan cultuurwaarde, religie, bezieling en geestelijke vitaliteit was verdwenen. In tegenstelling tot Nietzsche geloofde de auteur van Der Untergang niet meer in regeneratie van cultuur : Nietzsche heeft als geen ander – vandaar zijn invloed op zovelen, ook nu nog – de culturele symptomen van zijn tijd geanalyseerd en geïnterpreteerd als tekenen van verval en achteruitgang. Hij merkt overal de tekens van vermoeidheid, van uitputting en decadentie. En waar een figuur als Thomas Mann blijft steken in zijn Bildungsbürgertum, is Friedrich Nietzsche een stuk verder gegaan en kan men in zijn Uebermensch het Nietzscheaans genezingsproces zien. De therapie van Nietzsche is heel radicaal en superindividueel : enkelingen zullen de therapie van Nietzsche wel kunnen volgen – en genezen ? – maar daar heeft een ganse cultuur of natie niet veel aan, natuurlijk. Mann schreef over Nietzsche de volgende waarderende woorden : “..als vielmehr der unvergleichlich grösste und erfahrenste Psycholog der Dekadenz” (16). Alleen de Uebermensch kan de decadentie overwinnen. Decadentie bij Friedrich Nietzsche is veel minder een mechanisch, een automatisch proces dan bij Spengler. Decadentie ontstond – althans volgens Nietzsche – op het moment dat duidelijk werd dat God dood was en dat de mens in zichzelf de zin van het leven moest vinden. Wie kan zich met deze waarheid staande houden ? Alleen de Uebermensch, de mens die brug is geworden, en die gedreven is door de gedachte van de eeuwige wederkeer en door de wil tot macht is bezield.
Ze zijn beiden decadentie-filosofen, Nietzsche en Spengler, maar hun visie op het ontstaan en de uitrol van de decadentie is erg verschillend, dus ook de “oplossingen”. Maar ook gelijkenissen springen in het oog. Zo stelde Nietzsche vast dat de decadentie in de Griekse wereld – het ijkpunt voor Nietzsche en zovele andere 19e en 20e eeuwse denkers – dan is gestart op het moment dat de cultuur geïntellectualiseerd werd. Dit gebeurde door een figuur als Socrates die alles in vraag begon te stellen en die het weten tot grootste deugd verhief (17).
Ook Spengler zag een en ander analoog gebeuren, en zal hieraan het begrip Zivilisation verbinden. Maar waar Spengler deze versteende cultuur onvermijdelijk op haar einde zag toestappen, ontwaarde Nietzsche wel degelijk ontsnappingswegen. Lebensbejahung, Wille zur Macht, hetgeen wij hierboven reeds opsomden. Maar in de Griekse cultuur gebeurde juist het tegenovergestelde : reeds verzwakt door de socratische levenshouding wordt ze volledig vernietigd door de overwinning van de christelijke moraal.
Maar Spengler nam veel over van Nietzsche, zoveel is duidelijk : hij geloofde sterk in diens Umwertung aller Werte, de antithese cultuur-beschaving is zonder Nietzsche niet te begrijpen. Spengler voltooide de Nietzscheaanse boodschap en gaf er een metapolitieke en politieke inhoud aan. Hij heeft Nietzsche misbruikt, zullen anderen zeggen. Voor Spengler was de figuur van de Uebermensch een echt Luftgebilde, Spengler geloofde niet in de verbetering van de menselijke natuur en deelde de ondergang in bij de onvermijdelijkheden. Hij zag Nietzsche als de laatste romanticus. Politiek gezien brak de periode aan voor de nieuwe Caesars, niet voor een nieuwe Goethe. Nietzsche daarentegen was geen politiek denker, hij was op zoek naar individuele waarheden en oplossingen, terwijl Oswald Spengler geloofde in collectiviteiten, waaraan de mens is overgeleverd (18). Omdat de cultuur in de visie van de ondergangsfilosoof Spengler niet meer te regenereren was, moest zijn cultuurfilosofie in dienst staan van de harde politiek van het Duits imperialisme en zijn nieuwe Caesars – de laatste fase van de Zivilisationsperiode. De laatste doet dus het licht uit.
De levensfilosofie van Oswald Spengler
De Duitse cultuurfilosoof was duidelijk een man van de moderne wereld, hij gebruikte heel wat moderne begrippen en had heel wat te danken aan Nietzsche. Frits Boterman wees hier in zijn biografie op. Toch merkt dezelfde auteur op dat Spengler zich ook verzette tegen de rationalistische en natuurwetenschappelijke werkelijkheidsconceptie van zijn tijd. Op die manier sloot de Duitser zich aan bij de filosofische stroming van de Lebensphilosophie, een verzameling van - zowel naar methodiek als naar afbakening van interessegebied – antirationalisten (19). De heer Boterman stelt vast dat – hoewel we het ons nog moeilijk kunnen voorstellen – het Leben hét centrale thema was in de Duitse filosofie tussen 1880 en 1930. De Lebensphilosophie legde de nadruk op het intuïtieve, irrationele en gevoelsmatige van het leven, en was gericht tegen het natuurwetenschappelijk positivisme. Spengler kwam dus met zijn cultuurfilosofie niet zomaar uit de lucht vallen in Duitsland. Zijn zoektocht naar de “achterliggende” waarheid lag in dezelfde lijn als Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Dilthey, Freud en Sorel. De invloed van deze levensfilosofische school reikte ver, buiten Duitsland en in geheel Europa.
Frits Boterman onderneemt een meer dan verdienstelijke poging om de algemene lijnen van de Lebensphilosophie samen te vatten; wij geven de grote lijnen (20) :
De levensfilosofie gaat er in het algemeen van uit dat er geen transcendente realiteit bestaat, behalve het bestaan zelf. Het vertrekpunt is de Diesseitigkeit (het leven op aarde).
T.o.v. het primaat van het rationeel positivistisch denken stelden de levensfilosofen het primaat van het gevoel, de beleving, de intuïtie (de Tiefenerlebnis van Oswald Spengler). Belangrijk zijn dus de emotionele momenten die de mens zijn plaats in de totaliteit van het leven doen beleven.
Spengler moet worden gesitueerd in de brede stroom van deze Lebensphilosophie. Merkwaardig is wel dat hij hier niet helemaal in past : immers, Frits Boterman merkt op dat, hoewel de Duitser de natuurwetenschappelijke werkelijkheidsconceptie bestreed, hij haar bestaansrecht helemaal niet betwistte.
In bijlage, de drie vergelijkende tafels uit Der Untergang des Abendlandes, waarin Oswald Spengler steeds op een analoge manier enkele culturen naast elkaar zet.
Op het vlak van de filosofie en de geesteswetenschappen zette hij in deze vergelijking de volgende culturen naast elkaar : de Indische, de Antieke, de Arabische en tenslotte de Avondlandse cultuur.
In de 2e vergelijking – op het vlak van kunst : de Egyptische, de Antieke, de Arabische en de Avondlandse
En tenslotte op het vlak van de politiek : de Egyptische, de Antieke, de Chinese en de Avondlandse
De vergelijkende tabellen worden in de oorspronkelijke, Duitse taal gebracht, een Nederlandse vertaling heb ik immers niet gevonden.
3. JULIUS EVOLA – met Romeinse virtù
Belangrijkste werken van Julius Evola :
1926 L’uomo come potenza. I tantri nella loro metafisica e nei loro metodi di autorealizzazione magica.
1928 Imperialisme pagano. Il fascismo dinnanzi al pericolo euro-cristiano
1931 La tradizione ermetica. Nei suoi simboli, nella sua dottrina e nella sua “Arte Regia”
1932 Maschera e volto dello spiritualismo contemporaneo. Analisi critica delle principali correnti moderne verso il « sovranaturale ».
1934 Rivolta contro il mondo moderno
1937 Il mistero des Graal e la tradizione ghibellina dell’Impero
1950 Orientamenti. Undici punti
1953 Gli uomini e le rovine
1958 Metafisica del sesso
1961 Cavalcare la tigre
1963 Il cammino del Cinabro
De metafysica die Julius Evola (1898-1974) in zijn werken uiteenzet (in Rivolta, zijn hoofdwerk, maar ook in andere werken), en die hij steeds zelf heeft omschreven als “transcendent realisme”, omvat een involutionistische filosofie van de geschiedenis (van beter naar minder dus), gebaseerd op het dubbele axioma dat geschiedenis een proces van verval is, en de moderne wereld een fenomeen van decadentie. Deze geschiedenisfilosofie identificeert zich eigenlijk totaal met de wereld van de Traditie. Wat men in de moderne wereld als “politiek” omschrijft, betekent in het perspectief van de Traditie slechts een geheel van gedegradeerde vormen van een superieure vorm van politiek, gebaseerd op de ideeën van autoriteit, soevereiniteit en hiërarchie.
Involutie is de zin van de geschiedenis, zegt Julius Evola
Volgens Pierre-André Taguieff in Politica Hermetica, nr. 1, 1987 (21) is het Evoliaans denken eerder een denken over decadentie dan een denken over restauratie. Zijn radicale kritiek op de moderne wereld is even coherent als overtuigend, terwijl zijn politieke ideeën bepaald zijn door nostalgisch utopisme, irrealistisch – nog eens, volgens de auteur Taguieff. Hij (Evola) streeft een ideaal regime na, dat echter door elke historische realiteit wordt verraden, want in de realiteit omgezet. Dat is de voornaamste reden waarom wetenschapper Taguieff vindt dat Evola sterker staat in het bepalen van decadentie, dan in het neerpennen van politieke alternatieven. Maar zijn interpretatie en zijn onderzoek naar het decadentiebegrip bij Julius Evola is zo helder geschreven, dat wij hem in ons artikel
meermaals zullen moeten citeren.
Het thema van de decadentie kan elke aandachtige lezer terugvinden in alle vruchtbare periodes in Evola’s leven. Natuurlijk is er veel plaats voor het thema van zijn metafysica van de geschiedenis ingeruimd in het hoofdwerk, Rivolta, het volledige tweede deel van het werk. Het thema van de “decadentie” neemt een centrale plaats in in het werk van de Italiaanse filosoof : de fundamentele thesis is de idee van de decadente natuur van de moderne wereld, en is te vinden in de Rivolta (22). Maar ook in de andere werken, La dottrina del Risveglio. Saggio sull’ascesi buddista en Cavalcare la tigre en tenslotte Gli uomini e le rovine, zijn veel verwijzingen terug te vinden. Het voornaamste werk heeft als kern, de vraag hoe te reageren in een tijdperk van algemene, uitsluitende dissoluzione.
In tegenstelling tot heel wat moderne denkers, die vertrekken van een sociologische vaststelling van wat is en wat verkeerd loopt, vertrekt Evola in zijn studie over het begrip decadentie – en hierin is hij toch wel origineel – van de primordiale wereld van de Traditie, de oorspronkelijke Traditie, als absoluut referentiepunt. De moderne wereld wordt bestudeerd vanuit dit ijkpunt, en niet omgekeerd. Een drieledig standpunt : een axiologische visie, als een legitiem systeem van normen en als enige authentieke weg dus.
En de decadentie, aldus Evola, is een ziekte die al heel lang in deze samenleving sluimert, maar die geen mens durft uit te spreken. Ook bleven de symptomen lange tijd verborgen, door allerlei ogenschijnlijk positieve ontwikkelingen aan ons oog onttrokken. “De realiteit van de decadentie is nog verborgen door de idee van vooruitgang, door idyllische perspectieven, ons door het evolutionisme aangeboden” (23), gemaskeerd dus door de idee van vooruitgang, en “gesecondeerd door de superioriteit van de moderne beschaving”. Zo zal het gevoel van de val ons maar duidelijk worden tijdens de val zelf. Om weerstand te kunnen bieden, moet de kleine minderheid, aldus Evola, het referentiepunt, de Traditie, leren kennen. En de twee modellen die Evola naar voren schuift om het involutieproces dat de geschiedenis is, te leren kennen, ontwikkelt hij uit de traditionele leerstellingen : de doctrine van de 4 tijdperken en de wet van de regressie van de kasten.
De doctrine van de 4 tijdperken
In het tweede deel van zijn Rivolta stelt Julius Evola een “interpretatie van de geschiedenis op traditionele basis” voor (24). De geschiedenis evolueert niet, maar volgt het proces van regressie, van involutie, in de zin van het zich loskoppelen van de suprawereld, van het verbreken van de banden met het transcendente, van het macht van het “slechts menselijke”, van het materiële en het fysieke. Dit juist is het onderwerp van de doctrine van de vier tijdperken. En de moderne wereld past als gegoten in de vorm van het vierde tijdperk, de Kali Yuga, het IJzeren Tijdperk. Reeds Hesiodos beschreef de vier tijdperken als het Gouden Tijdperk, het Zilveren, het Bronzen en het IJzeren Tijdperk. Het zelfde thema vinden wij terug in de Hindoetraditie (satya-yuga – tijdperk van het zijn, de waarheid in transcendente zin, tretâ-yuga – tijdperk van de moeder, dvâpara-yuga – tijdperk van de helden, en kali-yuga of het sombere tijdperk) naast zovele andere mythen over zowat de ganse (traditionele)
Wereld. Evola heeft deze cyclustheorie van René Guénon, die ze opnieuw in Europa binnenbracht.
De metafysica van de geschiedenis had een belangrijk gevolg : als de geschiedenis inderdaad het proces van progressieve involutie volgt, van het ene, hogere tijdperk naar het lagere tijdperk, dan kan het eerste tijdperk – althans de doctrine – niet dat zijn van de primitief, van de barbaren, maar wel dat van een superieure staat van de menselijke soort. Het gevolg was dat Evola, naast andere auteurs, onmiddellijk ook de evolutietheorie afwees.
De metafysica van de geschiedenis schrijft een onontkoombaar lot voor, een onweerlegbare koers. Evola legt er de nadruk op dat “hetgeen ons in Europa overkomt, niet arbitrair of toevallig gebeurt, maar voortkomt uit een precieze aaneenschakeling van oorzaken” (25). En “net als de mensen hebben ook beschavingen hun cyclus, hun begin, hun ontwikkeling en hun einde… Zelfs als de moderne beschaving moet verdwijnen, zal ze zeker niet de eerste zijn die verdwijnt en ook niet de laatste…. Cycli openen zich en sluiten af. De traditionele mens was bekend met de doctrine van cycli en alleen de onwetendheid van de moderne mens heeft hem en zijn tijdgenoten doen geloven dat zijn beschaving, die haar wortels heeft in het tijdelijke en het toevallige, een ander en meer geprivilegieerd lot zou kennen” (26)
Wanneer begonnen zich de eerste tekenen van decadentie te manifesteren volgens de Italiaanse cultuurfilosoof ? “De eerste tekenen van moderne decadentie zijn reeds aan te wijzen tussen de 8ste en 6e eeuw voor Christus…. Het komt er dus op aan het begin van de moderne tijden te laten samenvallen met wat men de historische tijden heeft genoemd…. Binnen de historische tijden en in de westerse ruimte duiden de val van het Romeinse Rijk en de komst van het christendom een tweede etappe aan van de vorming van de moderne wereld. Een derde etappe tenslotte doet zich voor met het ineenstorten van de feodale en Rijkswereld van het Middeleeuwse Europa, en bereikt haar hoogtepunt met het humanisme en de reformatie. Van dan af aan, en tot in onze dagen, hebben machten – al dan niet openbaar – de leiding genomen van alle Europese stromingen op het materiële en spirituele vlak” (27)
De etappes van de decadentie – de wet van het verval van de kastes
Het is in het 14e en 15e hoofdstuk van het tweede deel van zijn Rivolta dat we de belangrijke uitleg krijgen over de objectieve wet van de val van beschavingen. Ook hier is er opnieuw zwaar tol aan René Guénon betaald, zoals ook P. A. Taguieff opmerkte (28). De wet van de vier kastes beantwoordt grotendeels aan de doctrine van de vier tijdperken, want in de vier kastes vindt men de waarden terug die volgens deze doctrine opeenvolgend domineerden in één van de vier tijdperken van de regressie. Voor Evola verklaart deze wet ten volle het involutieve karakter in alle sociaalpolitieke aspecten. In alle traditionele maatschappijen zou er een gelijkaardige stratificatie hebben bestaan : aan de top staan overal de vertegenwoordigers van de spirituele autoriteit, daarna de krijgsaristocratie, erop volgend de bezittende burgerlijke stand en tenslotte de knechten. Deze vier “functionele klassen” corresponderen aan bepaalde levenswijzen, elk met zijn eigen gezicht, eigen ethiek, rechtssysteem in het globale kader van de Traditie (29). “De zin van de geschiedenis bestaat nu juist in de afdaling van de macht en van het type van beschaving van de ene naar de andere van de vier kastes, die in de traditionele maatschappijen beantwoorden aan de kwalitatieve differentiering van de belangrijkste menselijke mogelijkheden” (30). Evola vatte in zijn autobiografisch werk Le chemin du cinabre deze regressie en het belang ervan voor de geschiedenis als volgt samen : “Na de val van die systemen die berustten op de zuivere spirituele autoriteit (“sacrale maatschappijen”, “goddelijke koningen”) gaat in een tweede fase de autoriteit over in handen van de krijgsaristocratie, in de cyclus van de grote monarchieën, waar het “goddelijk recht” van de soeverein nog slechts een restecho is van de waardigheid van de eerste leiders. Met de revolutie van de Derde Stand, met de democratie, het kapitalisme en de industrialisering gaat de effectieve macht over in handen van de derde kaste, de eigenaars van de rijkdom, met een even grote transformatie van het type van beschaving en van de heersende belangen. En uiteindelijk kondigen socialisme, marxisme en communisme – en realiseren het ook ten dele - de ultieme fase aan, de komst van de laatste kaste, de antieke kaste van de slaven, die zich organiseren en de macht veroveren. Zij zet de regressie door tot in de laatste fase” (31). Op de creditzijde van de Italiaanse filosoof mag in elk geval genoteerd worden dat hij ook op momenten dat het niet “opportuun” werd geacht, want men moest zijn beschermheer niet de haren in strijken, er steeds op gewezen heeft dat Europa door Amerika werd bedreigd : niet militair, maar politiek, economisch en vooral cultureel. Amerika, dat is voor Evola een perversie van de waarden, en deze perversie leidt onvermijdelijk tot bolsjewisme. Amerika doekte in Europa de laatste restanten op van een feodale en traditionele maatschappij. De Amerikaans liberale weg leidt de beschaving naar haar laatste fase. Metafysisch plaatst de Italiaan Amerika en Sojwet-Rusland in hetzelfde kamp : het zijn twee kanten van dezelfde munt. Communisme is de laatste fase van de involutie, die wordt voorafgegaan door de derde fase, die van de liberale bezitters.
De tweedeling van de beschaving : traditionele versus moderne maatschappij
Het zal onze aandachtige lezers natuurlijk al duidelijk geworden zijn dat er tussen moderne maatschappij en traditionele maatschappij een bijna letterlijk te nemen “onmacht tot communiceren” bestaat, toch in het concept van Julius Evola. En uit de wet van de regressie van de kasten valt al evenzeer een vergankelijkheid van de moderne wereld af te leiden, wat ook heel wat “modernen” zal choqueren. Het verdwijnen van de moderne wereld heeft voor de filosoof slechts “de waarde van het puur toeval” (32) En bovenop het beschavingspluralisme, waarover Spengler het heeft, moet u in Evola’s model rekening houden met het “dualisme van de beschaving”. Er is de moderne wereld en er zijn aan de andere kant die beschavingen die haar vooraf zijn gegaan, tussen die beiden is er een volledige breuk, het zijn morfologisch gezien totaal verschillende vormen van beschaving. Twee werelden waartussen bijna geen contact mogelijk is, want zelfs de betekenis van dezelfde woorden verschilt. Een begrip van de traditionele maatschappij is derhalve voor de grote meerderheid van de modernen onmogelijk (33).
En zoals in de vertaling van een artikel, dat wij in TeKoS (34) afdrukten, vermeld, kunnen tijds- en ruimtebeschavingen terzelfdertijd en naast elkaar bestaan. Moderne wereld en traditionele maatschappijen : twee universele types, twee categorieën.
Tekens van decadentie – diagnose van het heden als geheel van regressieve processen
Als denker van de Traditie heeft Julius Evola een misprijzen voor de moderne westerse wereld, en daarin wordt hij gevolgd én voorafgegaan door nogal wat denkers van de Conservatieve Revolutie. De symptomen waren voor de meeste auteurs in dezelfde hoek te zoeken, alleen over de remedies was men het minder eens. Ook het alternatieve staatsmodel, welk mechanisme de staats- of rijksordening moest leiden, was voor de meesten verschillend.
In hetzelfde artikel over het decadentiedenken van Julius Evola somt auteur Taguieff de symptomen op (35) :
1. Het egalitarisme, pendant van het universalisme van het joods-christelijk type. En Evola benadrukt de christelijke wortels van de egalitaire wortels.
2. Het individualisme. Samen met Guénon bestrijdt Evola het individualisme, want door het bestaan ervan wordt elke transcendentie genegeerd, te beginnen met die die “de persoon” belichaamt. De moderne vergissing : persoon met individu verwarren.
3. Het economisme, de overwaardering dus van productie (productiviteit, aanbidden van de afgod van de materiële vooruitgang, het integraal economisch materialisme, vergoddelijking van geld en rijkdom. Evola is schatplichtig aan Werner Sombart.
4. Het rationalisme, de ideologische implicaties van het paradigma van de “moderne wetenschap” – de neoreligie van de Vooruitgang, het scientisme – verwerping van elke contemplatieve gedachte t.v.v. een weten, gestuurd door een technische actie.
5. De ontbinding van de staat, van de macht, en vooral van de spirituele macht, van de idee zelf van hiërarchie, in en door democratie, liberalisme en communisme. De massificatie van de volkeren, zodat gedragingen, geëgaliseerd en geïnfantiliseerd, beter controleerbaar worden.
6. Het humanisme in zijn historische vormen: het humanisme of het humanitaire cosmopolitisme, de bourgeoisie met haar fundamentele sociale, morele en sentimentele aspecten, en het valse koppel van het liberaal utilitarisme (gericht op de opperste waarde van het welzijn, gebaseerd op de norm van profijt) en het “spiritueel evasionisme”.
7. De verschillende vormen van “seksuele revolutie”, met daarin de hegemonie van de vrouwelijke waarden (broederschap, veiligheid), de groeiende gelijkmaking en uitvlakken van de seksuele verschillen, het oprukken van psychoanalyse als “de demonie van de seksualiteit”, waardering van de “derde sekse”.
8. Het verschijnen van valse elites, oligarchieën van verschillende types, plutocratie, dictators en demagogen, moderne intellectuelen. Twee signalen onderzocht Evola nauwkeurig : het verlies aan zin voor aristocratie, de kracht ervan en de originele traditie, en aan de andere kant de ontbinding van de artistieke vormen, getuige daarvan de twijfel van de moderne muziek tussen intellectualisering en primitieve hypertrofie van zijn fysieke karakter.
9. De ondergang van hetgeen Evola superieure rassen noemt, ras niet te begrijpen in een biologische opvatting.
10. Opkomst van allerlei vormen van neospiritualisme, de zgn. tweede spiritualiteit, met een term eigen aan Spengler. Het vernielen van de traditionele vormen van religie en ascese, hertaald in een “humanitaire democratische moraal”. Evola omschrijft dit neospiritualisme als de evenknie, het evenbeeld van het westers materialisme.
11. De overbevolking. Evola behoort niet tot de natalistische vleugel van de Conservatieve Revolutie: bezorgd is hij niet door ontvolking, hij zoekt menselijke kwaliteit, géén kwantiteit.
12. Het totalitarisme, mogelijk gemaakt door het organisch concept van de staat te vernietigen, en belichaamd door een nieuwe paradoxale formatie : de idôlatrie van de staat en de atomisatie van de gemeenschap. Vanaf dan reflecteert hetgeen beneden is, niet meer hetgeen boven is, want er is geen boven meer. Elke afstand is afgeschaft. De totale horizontaliteit van de geatomiseerde maatschappij – de som van perfect uitwisselbare individuen – is de voorwaarde voor het verschijnen van de pseudostaat, die de totalitaire staat in wezen is.
13. Tenslotte het naturalisme in al zijn varianten : biologisme, materialisme, collectivisme, ja, zelfs nationalisme.
Slotopmerking : wat is decadentie voor Julius Evola ?
Het moet al duidelijk geworden zijn : de negatie van de Traditie is het beginpunt van decadentie en verval. Decadentie kan in de ogen van Evola het best omschreven worden als het toaal verlies aan “oriëntatie naar het transcendente” (36). Had ook Friedrich Nietzsche het niet over “God is dood” als beginpunt van het Europees nihilisme ? In die mate is de moderne maatschappij dan ook volledig tegengesteld aan de traditionele maatschappij en is de toegang naar het transcendente voor haar afgesloten. In zijn later werk Orientamenti zal de Italiaan de lijn doortrekken en noteren dat het antropocentrisme eigenlijk het begin betekent van de decadente moderniteit. Hierin ligt trouwens de scherpste kritiek van Evola aan het adres van Oswald Spengler, iets wat we nu gaan ontdekken.
4. JULIUS EVOLA OVER OSWALD SPENGLER
De twee belangrijke cyclisten, beiden actief in wat men later de Conservatieve Revolutie is gaan noemen, moesten elkaar vroeg of laten wel ontmoeten. Evola kwam een aantal keren in Duitsland spreken voor bvb. de Herrenclub, maar tot een ontmoeting tussen de beide filosofen is het nooit gekomen. We mogen ervan uitgaan dat Spengler de Italiaan niet kende en ook zijn werken niet had gelezen. Vergeten we trouwens niet dat het magnus opum van Evola pas in 1936 verschijnt, en dat Spengler hetzelfde jaar overleed. Maar Spengler kende bvb. ook de naam van Vico niet, wat erop kan duiden dat hij weinig kennis had over de Italianen. Evola kende het werk van Spengler wel, hij las alle werken van de Duitser, niet alleen Der Untergang des Abendlandes, maar ook zijn Jahre der Entscheidung. En in een tweetal artikels ging de Italaanse filosoof dieper in op de betekenis van Spengler voor het traditioneel denken en poogde hij tevens een traditionele kritiek te formuleren op de fundamenten van het Spengleriaans denken. Evola vertaalde Der Untergang des Abendlandes in het Italiaans in 1957 en vatte in zijn inleiding enkele punten van kritiek samen. Verder schreef hij in Vita Italiana in 1936 over de Duitse ondergangsfilosoof. De beide artikels werden in 1997 in het Frans vertaald en uitgegeven (37).
Voor Julius Evola is Spengler géén moderne auteur, in die zin dat hij met zijn werk het gevoel wekt reëel te zijn, te appelleren aan iets dat groter is dan zichzelf. De beschaving, aldus Spengler, ontwikkelt zich niet volgens het ritme van een continue vooruitgang naar de “beste” beschaving. Er bestaan slechts verschillende culturen, afzonderlijk van elkaar. Tussen culturen bestaan hoogstens verbindingen van analogie, maar er is géén continuïteit.
Evola merkt op dat dit de centrale ideeën van Spengler zijn, die op geen enkele manier terug te brengen zijn tot een persoonlijke filosofische stelling. Want op een of andere manier leefden dezelfde ideeën ook reeds in de antieke wereld, onder de vorm van cyclische wetten die de culturen en de volkeren leidden. Alleen, dit maakt ook direct dé grote zwakte uit van Spengler, want op geen enkel moment wordt er ook maar gewag gemaakt van het transcendente karakter van de cyclische wetten van de culturen : “Hij ontwierp zijn wetten als nieuwe naturalistische en deterministische wetten, als een reproductie van het somber lot dat planten en dieren (…) te wachten staat: ze worden geboren, groeien en verdwijnen. Zo had Spengler geen enkel begrip van de spirituele en transcendente elementen die aan de basis liggen van elke grote cultuur. Hij is de gevangene van een laïcistische stelling die de invloed onderging van de moderne ideeën van de levensfilosofie, het Faustisch activisme en het aristocratisch elitisme van Friedrich Nietzsche” (38). En Evola komt tot de essentie : Spengler heeft niet begrepen dat er boven de pluraliteit van culturen en hun ontwikkelingsfasen een dualiteit van cultuurvormen bestaat. Hij benaderde dit concept nochtans op het moment dat hij culturen in opgang plaatste tegenover culturen in neergang, en cultuur t.o.v. beschaving. Maar, zegt Evola, hij slaagde er niet in om de essentie van de tegenstelling bloot te leggen.
De Spengleriaanse opvatting van de aristocratische cultuur is schatplichtig aan Nietzsche, Julius Evola had er al op gewezen, de Duitse filosoof van Der Untergang zal er nooit van loskomen : “Het ideaal van de mens als een prachtig roofdier en een onverwoestbaar heerser bleef het geloofspunt van Spengler, en referenties naar een spirituele cyclus blijven bij hem sporadisch, onvolmaakt en verminkt vanuit zijn protestantse vooroordelen. De aanbidding van de aarde en de devotie voor de klassen van knechten, de graafschappen en de kastelen, intimiteit van tradities en corporatieve gemeenschappen, de organisch georganiseerde staat, het allerhoogste recht toegekend aan het ras (niet in biologische zin begrepen, maar in de zin van gedrag, van diep ingewortelde viriliteit), dit alles is het fundament van Spengler, waarin volkeren zich in de fase van de cultuur ontwikkelen. Maar eigenlijk is dit alles te weinig… In de loop van de geschiedenis is een dergelijke wereld eerder te vinden reeds als het gevolg van een eerste val. We bevinden ons dan in de cyclus van de “krijgersmaatschappij”, het traditionele tijdperk dat vorm krijgt eens het contact met de transcendente realiteit verbroken werd, en die ophoudt de creatieve kracht van de beschaving te zijn” (39). Oswald Spengler gaat dus in de eerste plaats niet ver genoeg in zijn analyses, en verder haalt hij ook niet de juiste referenties aan. Daarom, schrijft Julius Evola op pagina 11, “komt Spengler ons eerder voor als de epigoon van het conservatisme, van het beste traditionele Europa, die haar ondergang bezegeld zag in de Eerste Wereldoorlog en het ineenstorten van de laatste Europese rijken”.
Toch kan Evola zich vinden in de beschrijving van de beschaving in verval : “Massacultuur, anti-kwalitatief, anorganisch, urbanistisch en nivellerend, diep anarchistisch, demagogisch en antitraditioneel”. En verder wijdt hij enkele zinnen aan de twee wereldrevoluties die het Westen in Spengleriaans opzicht zullen nekken : “Een eerste, interne, heeft zich al gerealiseerd, de sociale revolutie van de massificatie en assimilatie (…). De tweede revolutie is zich aan het voorbereiden, de invasie van de gekleurde rassen, die zich in Europa vestigen, zich europeaniseren en die de beschaving naar hun hand zullen zetten” (40). En dan opnieuw de kritiek van de Italiaanse filosoof : als antwoord op deze bedreigingen “weet Spengler slechts het ideaal van het mooie beest op te roepen, het eeuwige instinct van de krijger, latent aanwezig in periodes van ondergang, maar klaar om op te springen als de volkeren zich in hun vitale substantie bedreigd voelen (…). Dit beantwoordt volledig aan de visie van een tragische Faustische ziel, dorstend naar het eeuwige, wat voor Spengler juist model stond voor het Leitmotiv van de westerse cyclus”. Deze weg vindt Evola zeer vaag en onduidelijk, want de opkomst van de grote rijken, met hun binoom massa-Caesar, waren de emanatie van de kanker van het vernietigend cosmopolitisme, van het demonisch karakter van massa’s en dus uitingen van de decadentie zelf. Het echte alternatief zou er juist in bestaan de massa’s als massa te vernietigen en in haar nieuwe articulaties te provoceren, nieuwe klassen, nieuwe kasten (41). Niets van dit alles bij Spengler, stelt Evola bijna teleurgesteld vast, er is maar één ankerpunt, zijn Pruisen, zijn Pruisisch ideaal. Spengler zag Pruisen niet in nationale dimensies, maar eerder als een levenswijze : niet hij die in Pruisen is geboren, kan zich Pruis noemen, maar “dit type kan men overal vinden, het is een teken van ras, van gedisciplineerde toewijding, van innerlijke vrijheid in het uitvoeren van de taak, autodiscipline”. Evola besluit met te stellen dat dit Pruisen op zijn minst een solide traditioneel referentiepunt is, maar betreurt toch dat Spengler niet verder is gegaan.
5. ENKELE VERDIENSTEN VAN DE BEIDE HEREN
De betreurde Armin Mohler vatte de betekenis van Oswald Spengler in een aantal rake punten samen. Wij kunnen de voornaamste punten bij uitbreiding ook toepassen op de Italiaanse ondergangsauteur :
Spengler trekt in crisissituaties ondergrondse stromingen van het denken met een radicaliteit in het bewustzijn, wat voor hem hoogstens door een Georges Sorel werd voorgedaan. En die gedachtenstroming is een denken over de realiteit, gestart door de Stoa en Herakleitos, dat vanaf de start afzag van valse troostende gedachten of van de voorspiegeling van ordenende systemen. Dit denken – dat ook dat van Spengler is – staat boven elk optimisme of pessimisme. Geschiedenis is een in elkaar lopend proces van geboorten en ondergang en er blijft de mens niets anders over dan deze realiteit met heroïsche aanvaarding te ondergaan.
Een tweede verdienste, schrijft Mohler, is het opnieuw in baan brengen van het cyclisch denken, vanuit een stroom van Europese en buiten-Europese denkers. T.o.v. het aan invloed winnende liniair denken - zeker na de overwinning van het liberaal kapitalistische mens- en maatschappijbeeld - is het nodig en noodzakelijk dat een alternatief, ook op intellectueel vlak, geboden wordt op de vooruitgangsidee (42). De originaliteit bestaat hierin dat hij het organisch concept van de Duitse Romantiek overbracht op de cyclische gedachte en deze van toepassing verklaarde op zijn acht cultuurkringen. Hij combineerde de cyclische idee met het probleem van de decadentie en het verval van de cultuur. Een fundamentele breuk dus met de optimistische liberale vooruitgangsidee, en vooral nuttig in het doorprikken van de zeepbel, als zou er slechts één manier bestaan om naar de wereld te kijken.
Werd er van wetenschappelijke hoek vaak kritiek uitgebracht op de cyclische cultuurfilosofen – vooral het determinisme werd als onwetenschappelijk van de hand gewezen – dan is diezelfde kritiek even goed van toepassing gebleken op het liniaire beeld van de geschiedenis : ook hier speelt een determinisme mee, dat wetenschappelijke kringen al evenmin kunnen accepteren. Match nul, zullen wij maar zeggen, of is de eerste helft pas gespeeld ? Het is belangrijk te beseffen dat Spengler er samen met Toynbee, Sorokim Pitrim en anderen, voor heeft gezorgd dat de liniaire geschiedenisfilosofie – een uitvloeisel van de drie monotheïstische godsdiensten en hun wereldlijke realisaties – een cyclisch geschiedenisbeeld tegenover zich kreeg, dat eerder of opnieuw aanknoopte bij de oude, heidense, polytheïstische godsdiensten : een tijdlang hield de liniaire geschiedenisfilosofie vol, dat zij en zij alleen wetenschappelijke waarde had. Sinds het oprukken van de cyclische geschiedenisfilosofie kan zij dit niet meer volhouden.
Tenslotte heeft niemand zo duidelijk en onverbiddelijk als Spengler gewezen op de sterfelijkheid en vergankelijkheid van culturen en tot het einde toe doorgedacht. Sommige one-liners moeten toch doen denken : “De blanke heersers zijn van hun troon gestoten. Vandaag onderhandelen zij waar ze gisteren nog bevalen en morgen zullen ze moeten smeken om nog te mogen onderhandelen. Ze hebben het bewustzijn verloren van zelfstandigheid van hun macht en ze merken het niet eens”.
De verdienste van Julius Evola in dit alles : de Italiaanse filosoof verruimde de blik van Spengler en voegde er een transcendente, spirituele dimensie aan toe. Verder wees hij erop dat het proces van het sombere tijdperk, de finale fase dus, zich eerst bij ons heeft ontwikkeld. Daarom is het niet uitgesloten dat we ook de eersten zullen zijn om het nulpunt te passeren, op een moment waarop andere beschavingen zich nog in de fase van ontbinding zullen bevinden.
Voetnoten
(1) Weismann, K., Het rechtse principe, TeKoS, nr. 113, pag. 5
(2) Kaltenbrunner, G-K, Europa, Seine geistigen Quellen in Porträts aus zwei Jahrtausenden, regio – Glock und Lutz, Sigmaringendorf, 1987, pag. 36 e.v.
(3) Huntington, S., Botsende beschavingen, Uitgeverij Anthos, Baarn, 1997, ISBN 90 763 4115 x
(4) Cliteur, P., Tegen de decadentie, Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam, 2004, 223 blz., 16,95 euro)
(5) Weismann, K., Die heroische Existenz im Geistigen, in Junge Freiheit, nr. 6/04, 30 januari 2004, pag. 17
(6) Freund J., Evola ou le conservatisme révolutionnaire, in Guyot-Jeannin, A., Julius Evola, Les dossiers H, L’Age d’Homme, Lausanne, Suisse, 1997, pag. 187
(7) Weissmann, K., Het rechtse principe, TeKoS, nr. 113, pag. 5
(8) Spengler, O., Der Untergang des Abendlandes. Umrisse einer Morphologie der Weltgeschichte, Verlag C. H. Beck, München, 1973, eerste uitgave 1923,1249 pagina’s
(9) Evola, J., Rivolta contro il mondo moderno, Ulrico Hoepli, Milano, 1934, 482 pagina’s
(10) Boterman, F., Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes, Cultuurpessimist en politiek activist, Van Gorcum, Assen/Maastricht, 1992, ISBN 90-232-2695-X, 402 pagina’s.
(11) Kaltenbrunner, G-K, Europa, Seine geistigen Quellen in Porträts aus zwei Jahrtausenden, Regio – Glock und Lutz, Sigmaringendorf, 1987, pag. 396
(12) Kaltenbrunner, G-K, Europa, Seine geistigen Quellen in Porträts aus zwei Jahrtausenden, Regio – Glock und Lutz, Sigmaringendorf, 1987, pag. 397-398
(13) Boterman, F., Kultur versus Zivilisation: Oswald Spengler en Nietzsche, in Ester, H., en Evers, M., In de ban van Nietzsche, Damon, Dudel, 2003, pag. 161-176
(14) Spengler, O., Untergang des Abendlandes, pag. 3
(15) Strong, T. B., Oswald Spengler – Ontologie, Kritik und Enttäuschung, in Ludz, P. C., Spengler heute, München, 1980, pag. 88
(16) Mann, T., Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen, geciteerd in Ester, H., en Evers, M., In de ban van Nietzsche, Damon, Dudel, 2003
(17) Evers, M., Het probleem van de decadentie : Thomas Mann en Nietzsche, in Ester, H., en Evers, M., In de ban van Nietzsche, Damon, Dudel, 2003, pag. 130
(18) Boterman, F, Kultur versus Zivilisation: Oswald Spengler en Nietzsche in Ester, H., en Evers, M., In de ban van Nietzsche, Damon, Dudel, 2003, pag. 175 e.v.
(19) Boterman, F., Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes, Cultuurpessimist en politiek activist, Van Gorcum, Assen/Maastricht, 1992, pag. 67
(20) Boterman, F., Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes, Cultuurpessimist en politiek activist, Van Gorcum, Assen/Maastricht, 1992, pag. 68
(21) Politica Hermetica, nr. 1, Métaphysique et Politique – René Guénon, Julius Evola, L’Age d’Homme, Paris, 1987, 204 pagina’s
(22) Evola, J., Rivolta contro il mondo moderno, misschien gemakkelijkst in zijn Franse vertaling te lezen. Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, 501 pagina’s
(23) Evola, J., Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, pagina 9
(24) Evola, J., Il cammino del Cinabro, in Franse vertaling te lezen : Le chemin du Cinabre, Archè, Milano, 1982, pagina 123-124
(25) Evola, J., Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, pagina 487
(26) Evola, J., Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, pagina 493
(27) Evola, J., Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, pagina 493 e.v.
(28) Taguieff, P. A., Julius Evola, penseur de la décadence, in Politica Hermetica, nr. 1, Métaphysique et Politique – René Guénon, Julius Evola, L’Age d’Homme, Paris, 1987, p. 27
(29) Evola, J., Le chemin du cinabre, Arché-Arktos, Carmagnola, 1982, pagina 125
(30) Evola, J., Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, pagina 449
(31) Evola, J., Le chemin du cinabre, Arché-Arktos, Carmagnola, 1982, pagina 125
(32) Evola, J., Révolte contre le monde moderne, Les Editions de l’Homme, Montréal-Brussel, 1972, pagina 12
(33) Evola, J., La tradition hermétique, Ed. Traditionelles, Paris, 1975, pagina 26
(34) Evola, J., Waarom tijdsbeschavingen en ruimtelijke beschavingen een verschillende geschiedenis hebben, in TeKoS, nr. 57, pagina 13 en volgende
(35) Taguieff, P. A., Julius Evola, penseur de la décadence, in Politica Hermetica, nr. 1, Métaphysique et Politique – René Guénon, Julius Evola, L’Age d’Homme, Paris, 1987, p. 31 en volgende
(36) Evola, J., Chevaucher le tigre, Trédaniel, Paris, 1982, pagina 269
(37) Evola, J., L’Europe ou le déclin de l’occident, Perrin & Perrin, 1997
(38) Evola, J., L’Europe ou le déclin de l’occident, Perrin & Perrin, 1997, pagina 7-9
(39) Evola, J., L’Europe ou le déclin de l’occident, Perrin & Perrin, 1997, pagina 10
(40) Evola, J., L’Europe ou le déclin de l’occident, Perrin & Perrin, 1997, pagina 14
(41) Ibidem
(42) Evola, J., L’Europe ou le déclin de l’occident, Perrin & Perrin, 1997, pag. 15-16
(43) Mohler, A., Oswald Spengler (1880-1936) in Criticon, nr. 60-61, pagina 160-162
00:10 Publié dans Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : révolution conservatrice, allemagne, italie, oswald spengler, julius evola, evola, spengler, philosophie, décadence, occident, années 20, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mercredi, 02 décembre 2009
Trois nouveaux dossiers sur le site de la revue "Vouloir"
Sur http://vouloir.hautetfort.com/
Trois nouveaux dossiers !
Dossier “Spengler”
Dossier “Révolution conservatrice”
Dossier “Décisionnisme”
Dossier “Spengler”
Robert STEUCKERS:
Les matrices préhistoriques des civilisations antiques dans l’oeuvre posthume de Spengler: Atlantis, Kash et Touran
Robert STEUCKERS:
Le rapport Evola/Spengler
Oswald SPENGLER:
Le regard historique
Patrice BOLLON:
Oswald Spengler: le “Copernic de l’histoire”
William DEBBINS:
Le déclin de l’Occident
Gennaro MALGIERI:
Les années décisives
Mireille MARC-LIPIANSKY:
Crise ou déclin de l’Occident
Julius EVOLA:
L’Europe ou la conjuration du déclin?
Dossier “Révolution conservatrice”
Robert STEUCKERS:
“La Révolution Conservatrice”, thèse d’Armin Mohler
Robert STEUCKERS:
Révolution conservatrice, forme catholique et “ordo aeternus” romain
Dossier “Décisionnisme”
Holger von DOBENECK:
Panajotis Kondylis: Pouvoir et décision
Hans B. von SOTHEN:
Hommage à Panajotis Kondylis (1943-1998)
En annexe:
P. CHRISTIAS:
Ennemi et décision – Hommage à Panajotis Kondylis
Julien FREUND:
Que veut dire prendre une décision?
En annexe:
S. de la TOUANNE:
Julien Freund, penseur “machiavélien” de la politique
13:42 Publié dans Synergies européennes | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : synergies européennes, nouvelle droite, revue, révolution conservatrice, décisionnisme, oswald spengler | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
jeudi, 10 septembre 2009
Snapshots of the Continent Entre Deux Guerres: Keyserling's Europe (1928) and Spengler's Hour of Decision (1934)
Snapshots Of The Continent Entre Deux Guerres:
Keyserling’s Europe (1928)
And
Spengler’s Hour Of Decision (1934)
Swiftly on beginning my graduate-student career in 1984 I observed that people calling themselves intellectuals – the kind of people whom one met in those days as fellows in graduate humanities programs – tended to be obsessed with topicality and immediacy. Some adhered explicitly to one or another ideology of the a-historical, identifying so strongly with a perceived avant-garde or “cutting edge” that yesterday struck them as contemptible, a thing to be denounced so as to make way for the reformation of existence. But the majority were (and I suppose are) conformists looking for cues about what effective poses they might strike or words employ to signify their being “with it.” To be “with it” in a comparative literature program in California in the mid-1980s meant to be conversant with “theory,” and “theory” in turn meant the latest oracular pronouncement by the Francophone philosophe du jour, as issued almost before the writer wrote it by the those beacons of scholastic responsibility, the university presses. First it was Michel Foucault, then Jacques Derrida, and then Jean-Michel Lyotard. As tomorrow swiftly became yesterday, one sensed a panic to keep up with the horizonless succession of “with-it” gurus in fear that one might appear to others, better informed, as clownishly derrière-garde.
Being reactionary by conviction, I decided on an opposite course: to ignore the avant-garde and to read backwards, as it were, into the archive of forgotten and marginal books that no one deemed respectable by the establishment was reading anymore, and sideways into the contemporarily unorthodox. Part of the providential harvest of that eccentric project, which became a habit, is my acquaintance with two quirky tomes that, despite their oddness, seem to me to stand out as notable achievements of the European mind in the decade before World War Two. One is Count Hermann Keyserling’s Europe (1928); the other is Oswald Spengler’s “other book,” The Hour of Decision (1934). Both speak to us, in the God-forsaken present moment, with no small critical alacrity.
I. Spengler has proved a more durable figure than Keyserling, but the reading audience during the early years of the Weimar Republic would have known Keyserling better than Spengler. People talked about Spengler, but they read Keyserling, whose style was the more accessible. Of Baltic Junker descent, Graf Hermann Alexander Keyserling (1880 – 1946) fared badly in the aftermath of the Great War. He lost title to Rayküll, the hereditary Keyserling estate in Junker-dominated Livonia, when the newly independent Estonian Republic, conspicuously failing to reverse erstwhile Bolshevik policy, expropriated (or rather re-expropriated) the fixed holdings of the German-speaking ex-aristocracy. Keyserling found himself stateless, dispossessed, and in search of a career, his sole remaining asset consisting in his education (higher studies at Dorpat, Heidelberg, and Vienna). Marriage to Otto von Bismarck’s granddaughter (1919) returned Keyserling to something like a station while the success of his first book, The Travel Diary of a Philosopher (1922), stabilized his finances. The Travel Diary, immediately translated into a half-dozen languages including English, remains readable, even fascinating. In 1914, before the outbreak of hostilities, Keyserling had undertaken a global circumnavigation, the lesson of which the Diary, a nation-by-nation account of the world at that moment, meditatively records.
The Diary bespeaks a cosmopolitan-liberal attitude, flavored by a pronounced mystical inclination. Europe, or Das Spektrum Europas in the original German, will strike readers by contrast as an apology (highly qualified) both for nationalism and for individualism. Keyserling’s “spectroscopic analyses” of the various European peoples, in their peculiar individualities as well as in their complex relation to one another, advances the argument that, if Europe ever were to forge administrative unity out of its querulous variety, it would only ever do so by granting full rights and legitimacy to the varieties.
Keyserling favors a modest pan-European government, whose chief function would be the mediation of disputes between the otherwise sovereign nation-states, but characteristically he supplies no details. Keyserling’s notion of a pan-European administration differs in its modesty from many being advanced at the time by such as H. G. Wells, whose speculative utopias – as for example in Men Like Gods – uniformly foresee the dissolution of the nation-state, not just into a pan-European arrangement, but, rather, into a World Republic. Of course, Wells assumes that English, not French or Mandarin, will be the singular unifying tongue of that Republic. The elites will educate people so that anything like a national identity disappears completely in the first captive generation. In the concluding chapter of Europe, in a discussion of national “style,” Keyserling insists on the contrast between his own sense of identity and the “international,” or specifically political type of identity, promulgated by the Communists and Socialists. In the case of the specifically political identity, the subject yields his individuality to merge with the ideological construction. Keyserling reacts to this as to a toxin. “When I analyze my own self-consciousness,” Keyserling poses, “what do I find myself to be?”
Keyserling answers: “First and foremost, I am myself; second, an aristocrat; third, a Keyserling; fourth, a Westerner; fifth, a European; sixth, a Balt; seventh, a German; eighth, a Russian; ninth, a Frenchman – yes, a Frenchman, for the years during which France was my teacher influenced my ego deeply.” We note that politics never enters into it. Reading the autobiographical passages of Europe, especially those in the chapter on “The Baltic States,” one gets the impression, incidentally, that belonging to Baltdom ranks as rather more important for Keyserling’s self-assessment than its place in his explicit hierarchy of identities would suggest.
Europe deploys a well-thought-out dialectic of individual and national character, whose subtleties Keyserling presents in his “Introduction.” In the same “Introduction,” the author also sets forth his case for the absolute legitimacy of judging nations and cultures against one another. Keyserling fixes over the whole of Europe an epigraph drawn from Paul to the Romans: “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” His dialectic follows from his conviction of imperfectness both of the basic human nature and of human arrangements for the conduct of political existence.
Keyserling can note, by way of a widely applicable example, that the Latin subject’s sense of his status as “civis Romanus… awoke in him as an individual a profound sense of self-discipline and obligation”; Keyserling can also assert that, “The man who attempts to deduce his own worth from the fact that he is a member of a particular group is thinking askew, and, besides presenting an absurd spectacle, gets himself disliked.” The two statements imply, for Keyserling, no contradiction. In the spirit of Saint Paul, Keyserling indeed hazards the sweeping – and, to some, disturbing – rule that, “in not a single nation is the national element, as such, bound up with anything of worth” because “the gifts of every nation are balanced by complementary defects.” As Keyserling sees things, “the only value in the national spirit is that it may serve as the basic material, as the principle of form, for the individual.” In the ironic consequence, as Keyserling closes out his syllogism, “it is for this very reason that every nation instinctively measures its standing by the number and quality of world-important figures which it has produced.”
Whereas on the one hand in Keyserling’s epigrammatic judgment, “the individual and the unique are more than the nation, be it one’s own or another,” on the other hand “value and mass have absolutely nothing to do with each other.” Apropos of Keyserling’s disdain for the “mass,” he notes that, “Christ preached love of one’s neighbor just because he did not have in mind philanthropy and democracy.”
Invoking Hebrew theology and German music as examples, Keyserling argues that: “A nation can achieve significance for humanity only in certain respects; namely, those wherein its special aptitudes fit it to become the appointed organ for all humanity.” Thus to evoke “abstract considerations of justice” is for Keyserling a “useless” exercise flying in the face of a “cosmic truth.” Given the central role of the individual in Keyserling’s scheme, readers will register little surprise when, in Europe, the author insists that the individual not only possesses the right, but indeed lives under an ethical imperative, to render public judgment on collectivities, with reference to a metaphysical hierarchy of values. “Strength and beauty are higher, in the absolute sense, than weakness and ugliness; superiority is higher, too, in the absolute sense, than inferiority, and the aristocratic is higher than the plebieian.” Europe offers, among other pleasures, Keyserling’s giving himself “free rein” to articulate such judgments in a spirit of “inner liberation,” in which the cultured reader will surely participate, treating everyone with equal severity and irony.
Keyserling admits, “There are some who will have for this book nothing but resentment.” He hopes indeed that “all Pharisees, all Philistines, all nitwits, the bourgeois, the humorless, the thick-witted, will be deeply, thoroughly hurt.” These are words almost more apt – but certainly more apt, supremely apt – for Anno Domine 2009 than for 1928; but one nevertheless presupposes their legitimacy in context. Keyserling reminds his readers in advance that he will have imposed the same criteria in assessing “my own people,” meaning the Balts, as in assessing others.
II. One can only sample the wares, so to speak, in a summary of Europe, keeping in mind Keyserling’s warning that he must necessarily offend the easily offended. Readers will need to explore Europe on their own to discover what Keyserling has to say about Netherlanders, Hungarians, Romanians, Swedes, and Swiss. What follows makes reference only to the chapters on England, France, and Germany. Does the order of the chapters imply even the most modest of hierarchies, with the first chapter taking up the analysis of England? Keyserling must have recognized the importance of his Anglophone audience to his popularity. His treatment of the English, while unsparing in principle, does seem warmed somewhat by fondness. For Keyserling, that odd phenomenon of “Anglomania” (nowadays one would say “Anglophilia”) tells us something, by way of indirection, about its object. “One nation sees itself mirrored in the other, not as it is, but as it would like to be; just as, during the World War, every nation attributed to its enemy the worst features of its own unconscious.”
On England. With characteristic nakedness of statement, Keyserling credits the Anglo-Saxon, not with “intelligence” but rather with “instinct.” According to Keyserling, “the whole [English] nation… has an unconquerable prejudice against thinking, and, above all, against any insistence on intellectual problems.” Being creatures of instinct, Englishmen act with certitude or at least with the appearance of certitude. It is this certitude, translated pragmatically as the habit of taking bold action, which others so admire, even while misunderstanding it, in the Anglo-Saxon spirit. “The Englishman… is an animal-man”; and “at the lowest end of the scale he is the horse-man, with corresponding equine features.” The aversion to ratiocination explains the British Empire, which “simply grew up, with no intention on anybody’s part,” to be governed by the colonial-administrator type, who “rarely thinks of anything but food, drink, sport, and, if he is young, flirtations.”
More than God, whatever his sectarian dispensation, Keyserling’s Englishman worships “the rules of the game.” Thus his “loyalty to one’s land, one’s party, one’s class, one’s prejudices… the first law” so that “the question of absolute value is beside the point.” From these inclinations stem “British empiricism, so despised by the French, which enables the British successfully to anticipate the crises precipitated by the spirit of the times.” Yet if the Englishman were ungifted intellectually, he would be, in Keyserling’s estimate, “all the more gifted psychologically,” with the consequence that the Briton possesses “skill in handling human material [that] is extraordinary.” Nestling at the core of that gift is the principle, which Keyserling classifies as “primitive,” that one should “live and let live.” The English sense of individuality and of rights is likewise primitive, in the positive sense of being a reversion, against the modern tide, to the atheling-egotism of the Beowulf heroes and King Alfred. More than any other European nation, England has preserved medieval customs that might prove healthily anodyne to the deculturation inherent in modernity. Yet Keyserling fears that the English will fail to preserve custom and will plunge into “the Mass Age” more thoroughly than other nations, just as the offshoot American nation, in his judgment, had already done.
On France. Chortling Gallic readers need only to have turned the page to receive their own stinging dose of Keyserling’s patented forthrightness. It starts out flatteringly enough. Whereas the Englishman lives according to instinct, the Frenchman, taking him in the generality, behaves like a “universally intelligible life-form”; one sees in him a creature of “the conscious” and of “the intellect,” whose rationality has concocted, in the Gallic idiom, “a perfect language for itself.” So it is that “all Occidental ideology, whenever it can be expressed at all in French, finds in the body of that language its most intelligible expression.” Nevertheless, “however clear the intelligence of the Frenchman may be, his self-consciousness is emotional rather than intellectual,” being as such, “easily and violently aroused,” with the emotion itself its “own ultimate justification.” From Parisian emotiveness, from the esteem in which others regard France, and using the intellectual precision of the French language, comes the least attractive of Gallic qualities: “The Frenchman… has always seen in his opponent the enemy of civilization.” Just that inclination emerged in 1914, but the ferocity of the Jacobins showed its presence at the birth of the French Republic.
As Keyserling sees it, however, France is not a dynamic, but an essentially conservative, nation, which is what has enabled it to survive its endless cycle of revolutions. The real role of France after 1918 should not have been, as the French took it on themselves to do through the League of Nations, to “restore” – that is, to transform – Europe after some rational pattern; it should have been to conserve the precious vestiges of pre-Revolutionary culture. “The French are par excellence the culture nation of Europe.”
On Germany. On the topic of Germany, Keyserling begins by quoting his old friend Count Benckendorff, the Czar’s ambassador in London: “Ne dites pas les allemands; il n’y a que des allemands.” (“Speak not of the Germans; there are only Germans.”) According to Keyserling, “The German exists only from the viewpoint of others”; yet not quite, as one can make applicable generalizations. A German is an “object creature” whose “life-element lies, once and for all, in that which, externally, emerges most typically in the cult of the object.” A German is by nature therefore an expert, dedicated to his own expertise and to expertise qua itself as the principle of orderly existence. Keyserling avails himself of a standing joke: “If there were two gates, on the first of which was inscribed To Heaven, and on the other To Lectures about Heaven, all Germans would make for the second.” German interest in objects and objectives gives rise to German technical prodigality – the German primacy in precision Engineering and the mechanical systematization of everyday life. Despite its orientation to the objects, the German mentality suffers from “unreality.” How so?
“The personal element in man,” Keyserling remarks, “declines in direct proportion as his consciousness becomes centered in detached, externalized ideas; and for those who have to deal with him it really becomes impossible to know what they can expect and what they can rely on.” Keyserling does not foresee the collapse of the Weimar Republic and the catastrophe of the dictatorship, but he does, in the just-quoted sentence, see the cause of both.
The concluding chapter of Europe attempts a summing-up with a forecast. Keyserling writes: “Europe is emerging as a unity because, faced at closer range by an overwhelming non-European humanity, the things which Europeans have in common are becoming more significant than those which divide them, and thus new factors are beginning to predominate over old ones in the common consciousness.” But, in compliance with his dialectic, Keyserling issues a warning. The unification of the European nations as they confront the non-European must avoid the result of producing “frantic Pan-Europeans” who, forgetting the specificity of the constituent nationalities, “understand each other not better, but worse than before.” If that were to happen, Europe would have been effectively “Americanized.” Keyserling concludes on an ominous note: “More than one culture has died out before reaching full blossom. Atlantis, the Gondwana continent, went the way of death. Infinite is human stupidity, human slothfulness.”
III. Keyserling and Oswald Spengler (1880 – 1936) never exactly knew each other; rather, they lived in standoffish awareness of each other, with Keyserling playing the more extroverted and Spengler the more introverted role. In February 1922, Keyserling wrote to Spengler from Darmstadt, enclosing his review of The Decline of the West, and inviting Spengler to participate in a “School of Wisdom” seminar to be held at the Count’s Darmstadt house. (The “School of Wisdom” was Keyserling’s lecture-foundation, which operated from 1920 until the Nazi regime shut it down in 1933.) Spengler declined the invitation on the grounds that the audience was likely to be “young people stuffed with theoretical learning.” Spengler remarked to Keyserling in his reply, that, “by wisdom I understand something that one obtains after decades of hard practical work, quite apart from learning.” Spengler makes his adieu by promising to have his publisher send the new edition of The Decline to his correspondent. The tone of Keyserling’s invitation perhaps abraded Spengler’s sense of propriety; Keyserling does presume a willingness to cooperate that, to Spengler, might have seemed a bit too peremptory. Keyserling nevertheless rightly presupposed that he shared many judgments with Spengler – just not the judgment concerning the obligatory status of a social invitation from Keyserling.
The Hour of Decision, like everything that Spengler authored, is a rich mine of observation and insight, difficult to summarize, mainly because it communicates so thoroughly with the monumental Decline, to which it forms an epilogue. The core of The Hour is its diptych of concluding chapters on what Spengler calls “The White World-Revolution” and “The Coloured World-Revolution.” As in the case of Keyserling’s ironic forthrightness, only more so, Spengler’s plain speaking makes him consummately politically incorrect. The Hitlerian regime would suppress The Hour just as it suppressed Keyserling’s Darmstadt lecture-institute. Both were unforgivably heterodox in the totalitarian context. Spengler, writing in the onset of “die Nazizeit,” saw nothing particularly new in the dire developments of the day, only an intensification of the familiar Tendenz. The West’s terminal crisis had been in progress already for a hundred chaotic years; the great spectacle of disintegration would only continue, not merely in the external world of institutions and forms, but also in the internal world of spiritual integrity.
Conjuring the image of the modern megalopolis and echoing Ortega’s alarm over the masses, Spengler writes, “A pile of atoms is no more alive than a single one.” Crudely quantitative in its mental processes, the modern mass subject equates “the material product of economic activity” with “civilization and history.” Spengler insists that economics is merely a sleight-of-hand discourse for disguising the real nature of the “catastrophe” that has overcome the West, which is a failure of cultural nerve.
In The Hour, Spengler builds on notions he had developed in The Decline, particularly the idea that the West has ceased to be a “Culture,” a healthy, vital thing, and has entered into the moribund phase of its life, or what Spengler calls “Civilization.” Into the megalopolis, “this world of stone and petrifaction,” writes Spengler, “flock ever-growing crowds of peasant folk uprooted from the land, the ‘masses’ in the terrifying sense, formless human sand from which artificial and therefore fleeting figures can be kneaded.” Spengler stresses the formlessness of “Civilization,” in which “the instinct for the permanence of family and race” stands abolished. Where “Culture is growth,” and “an abundance of children,” “Civilization” is “cold intelligence… the mere intelligence of the day, of the daily papers, ephemeral literature, and national assemblies,” with no urge to prolong itself as settled custom, well-bred offspring, or a posterity that honors tradition. The “White World-Revolution” consists in the triumph of “the mob, the underworld in every sense.”
The mob, which sees everything from below, hates refinement and despises anything permanent. The masses want “liberation from all… bonds [and] from every kind of form and custom, from all the people whose mode of life they feel in their dull fury to be superior.” Hence the appeal of egalitarianism to the masses. But, as Spengler argues, egalitarianism is really only a slogan, a euphemism. The real trend is “Nihilism.”
The pattern of “Nihilism” emerged in the French Revolution, with its vocabulary of leveling, as in the radically politicizing etiquette of “citoyen” and in the supposedly universal demand for “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.” “The central demand of political liberalism,” writes Spengler, consists in “the desire to be free from the ethical restrictions of the Old Culture.” Yet as Spengler insists: “The demand was anything but universal; it was only called so by the ranters and writers who lived by it and sought to further private aims through this freedom.” We see this identical pattern today in the various concocted emergencies and so-called universal demands that the current thoroughly liberal-nihilistic regime in the United States trots out serially to justify its consolidation of power, whereby it ceaselessly attacks what remains in the American body-politic of form and custom. In Spengler’s aphorism: “Active liberalism progresses from Jacobinism to Bolshevism logically.”
In Spengler’s judgment, moreover, one would make a mistake in equating Bolshevism, as people would have done in the 1930s, uniquely with the Soviet Union. “Actually [Bolshevism] was born in Western Europe, and born indeed of logical necessity as the last phase of the liberal democracy of 1770 – which is to say, of the presumptuous intention to control living history by paper systems and ideals.”
When Spengler remarks on the theme of tolerance (so-called) in liberalism-nihilism, one thinks again of the existing situation in Europe and North America the first decade of the Twenty-First Century. Inherent to form is its rigorous exclusion of the formless. In its aggressive demand for inclusion of the rightly excluded, which belongs to its destructive impetus, the liberal-nihilistic regime works actively to de-stigmatize anti-social behavior. Thus under liberalism-nihilism “tolerance is extended,” by self-denominating representatives of the people, “to the destructive forces, not demanded by them.” Of course, the “destructive forces” do not refuse the extension. On historical analogy, Spengler refers to this as “the Gracchan method.” When once, as had already happened in Europe in Spengler’s time, “the concept of the proletariat [had] been accepted by the middle classes,” then the formula for cultural suicide had at last all of its ingredients in place. “I am aware,” writes Spengler, “that most people will refuse with horror to admit that this irrevocable crashing of everything that centuries have built up was intentional, the result of deliberate working to that end… But it is so.”
IV. Like another, later analyst of modernity in its agony, Eric Voegelin, Spengler sees at the root of Liberalism-Nihilism the perversion of a religious idea. “All Communist systems in the West are in fact derived from Christian theological thought: More’s Utopia, the Sun-State of the Dominica Campanella, the doctrines of Luther’s disciples Karlstadt and Thomas Münzer, and Fichte’s state-socialism… Christian theology is the grandmother of Bolshevism.” The materialism – which is again a type of nihilism – of Marxism and socialism never contradicts the case for liberalism-nihilism as a perversion of Gospel themes. “As soon as one mixes up the concepts of poverty, hunger, distress, work, and wages (with the moral undertone of rich and poor, right and wrong) and is led thereby to join in the social and economic demands of the proletarian sort – that is, money demands – one is a materialist.” But, this being Spengler’s point, one may have the belief-attitude with respect to one’s materialist doctrines that the fanatic of God has for his mental idol, with the concomitant fierceness and ruthlessness. The end of real Christianity is “renunciation.” With reference to the sentence of Adam, writes Spengler, the Gospel tells men, “do not regard this hard meaning of life as misery and seek to circumvent it by party politics.”
In a precise description of the modern, immigration-friendly, general-welfare state, Spengler remarks that “for proletarian election propaganda,” an opposite principle to the Gospel one is required: “The materialist prefers to eat the bread that others have earned in the sweat of their face.” When the Gracchan rabble dominates from below so that the demagogues might manipulate from above, then it will come to pass that “the parasitic egoism of inferior minds, who regard the economic life of other people, and that of the whole, as an object from which to squeeze with the least possible exertion the greatest possible enjoyment” will seek its bestial end in “panem et circenses.” Once the majority descends to vulgar consumption through extortion – and through a mere pretence of work under the welfare-umbrella of “the political wage” – then the society has doomed itself. It can only lurch in the direction of its inevitable demise. Even the keen-eyed will not want to confront reality. They will, as Spengler writes, “refuse in horror” to believe what they see. Spengler might have been thinking about a letter from his correspondent Roderich Schlubach dated 9 October 1931. Schlubach writes: “I frankly admit that much of what you prophesied [in The Decline] has taken place. The decline of the West seems to be at hand, and still I do not believe in an end of the world, only in an entire change in our circumstances.”
That is “The White World-Revolution” – the triumph of rabble-envy, the destruction of form, childlessness, and the childishness of mass entertainments. Indeed, “an entire change in our circumstances,” as Schlubach says, not grasping that his words mean the opposite of what he intends. What of “The Coloured World-Revolution”? Keyserling had admonished, in the concluding chapter of Europe, that Europe in its chafing unity would come under threat from the nearby non-European world. In Spengler’s historical theory, the threat of external barbarism always coincides with the passage of the “Culture” into its deliquescent rabble-stage – the stage that the Decline-author ironically calls “Civilization.” Earlier, in the robustness of the culture-stage, the ascendant people inevitably imposes itself on neighboring and foreign peoples whose levels of social complexity and technical sophistication are lower and who cannot effectively resist encroachment. Spengler emphasizes that it cannot be otherwise. The people of the less-developed society gradually grow conscious of a difference, which the emergent demagogue-class of the more-developed society in its liberal paroxysm swiftly encourages them to see as an injustice.
Thus, Spengler asserts, “the White Revolution since 1770 has been preparing the soil for the Coloured one.” The process has followed this course:
The literature of the English liberals like Mill and Spencer… supplied the “world outlook” to the higher schools of India. And thence the way to Marx was easy for the young reformers themselves to find. Sun Yat Sen, the leader of the Chinese Revolution, found it in America. And out of it all there arose a revolutionary literature of which the Radicalism puts that of Marx and Borodin to shame.
Spengler, who was consciously and deliberately distancing himself from the National Socialists, reminds his readers that he is not “speaking of race… in the sense in which it is the fashion among anti-Semites in Europe and America today.” He is simply comparing the attitude to life of existing peoples. The Western nations compete for dominance with non-Western nations whether they want to do so or not. The non-Western nations, like Japan, act in bold accord with ideologies that cast the West in a scapegoat role, and that are overtly racist. The West has enemies. It cannot choose not to be in enmity with them; they choose enmity peremptorily. The West can either stand up to its assailants or succumb. When Spengler turns to demography, to his tally of Western birth-replacement deficits and burgeoning populations elsewhere, his discourse strikes us, not as dated, but as entirely contemporary. “The women’s emancipation of Ibsen’s time wanted, not freedom from the husband, but freedom from the child, from the burden of children, just as men’s emancipation in the same period signified freedom from the duties towards family, nation, and State.”
The attitude of the European middle class, judging by its failure to oppose the vulgarization of society and again by its unwillingness to perpetuate itself in offspring, is one of abdication before the forces of nothingness – this is true whether it is 1934 or 2009. Like the proletariat, the bourgeoisie then and now hungers only for panem et circenses, or, as we so quaintly call it in present-day America, the consumer lifestyle. Spengler predicts, in The Hour, that the non-Western world will grow increasingly hostile and predatory towards the West, seeing the decadent nations as easy pickings and seeking opportunities to assault and humiliate the bitterly resented other. Spengler believes that the nihilistic tendency of Western revolutionaries will merge with the similar tendencies of their non-Western, colonial or ex-colonial counterparts and that the internal and external masses will cooperate in a common destructive project. What else was the bizarre alliance between the Nazi regime in Berlin and the Bushidoregime in Tokyo? Or between Heinrich Himmler and the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem? Just this intimate cooperation of homebred totalitarians with inassimilable fellah-collaborators seems today to be the case, for example, in Great Britain and Sweden – and to no little extent, not merely with respect to illegal Mexican immigration, in the United States as well.
The Hour of Decision remains a shocking book. It will shock even conservatives because they cannot have avoided being assimilated in some degree to the prevailing dogma about what one may or may not say. One can imagine the reaction of contemporary liberals to the book if only they knew anything about it: spitting, blood-shot indignation. Contemporary liberals have already banned almost the entirety of Spengler’s vocabulary under the strictures of self-abasing multiculturalist dhimmi-mentality. The Hour is also a radical book, not least in its notion, also present in both volumes of The Decline that, the crisis of the West, which began already in the Eighteenth Century, would likely play itself out right through the end of the Twentieth Century and beyond. The disquiet that comes across at the end of Keyserling’s Europe, which appeared as we recall in 1928, asserts itself as greatly heightened apprehension in the final chapter of The Hour, which appeared in German in 1934 and in English in 1936, after Goebbels had suppressed further publication of the German edition. The National Socialists, like modern liberals, could not bear to be identified by a strong voice, as who and what they actually were.
00:19 Publié dans Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : allemagne, révolution conservatrice, oswald spengler, histoire, philosophie, années 30, national-socialisme, années 20, europe, conservatisme, droite | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
mercredi, 15 avril 2009
L'influence d'Oswald Spengler sur Julius Evola
Archives de SYNERGIES EUROPEENNES - 1995
L'influence d'Oswald Spengler sur Julius Evola
par Robert Steuckers
«Je traduisis de l'allemand, à la demande de l'éditeur Longanesi (...) le volumineux et célèbre ouvrage d'Oswald Spengler, Le déclin de l'Occident. Cela me donna l'occasion de préciser, dans une introduction, le sens et les limites de cette œuvre qui, en son temps, avait connu une renommée mondiale». C'est par ces mots que commence la série de paragraphes critiques à l'égard de Spengler, qu'Evola a écrit dans Le Chemin du Cinabre (op. cit., p. 177). Evola rend hommage au philosophe allemand parce qu'il a repoussé les «lubies progressistes et historicistes», en montrant que le stade atteint par notre civilisation au lendemain de la première guerre mondiale n'était pas un sommet, mais, au contraire, était de nature «crépusculaire». D'où Evola reconnaît que Spengler, surtout grâce au succès de son livre, a permis de dépasser la conception linéaire et évolutive de l'histoire. Spengler décrit l'opposition entre Kultur et Zivilisation, «le premier terme désignant, pour lui, les formes ou phases d'une civilisation de caractère qualitatif, organique, différencié et vivant, le second les formes d'une civilisation de caractère rationaliste, urbain, mécaniciste, informe, sans âme» (ibid., op. cit., p.178).
Evola admire la description négative que donne Spengler de la Zivilisation, mais critique l'absence d'une définition cohérente de la Kultur, parce que, dit-il, le philosophe allemand demeure prisonnier de certains schèmes intellectuels propres à la modernité. «Le sens de la dimension métaphysique ou de la transcendance, qui représente l'essentiel dans toute vraie Kultur, lui a fait défaut totalement» (ibid., p. 179). Evola reproche également à Spengler son pluralisme; pour l'auteur du Déclin de l'Occident, les civilisations sont nombreuses, distinctes et discontinues les unes par rapport aux autres, constituant chacune une unité fermée. Pour Evola, cette conception ne vaut que pour les aspects extérieurs et épisodiques des différentes civilisations. Au contraire, poursuit-il, il faut reconnaître, au-delà de la pluralité des formes de civilisation, des civilisations (ou phases de civilisation) de type "moderne", opposées à des civilisations (ou phases de civilisation) de type "traditionnel". Il n'y a pluralité qu'en surface; au fond, il y a l'opposition fondamentale entre modernité et Tradition.
Ensuite, Evola reproche à Spengler d'être influencé par le vitalisme post-romantique allemand et par les écoles "irrationalistes", qui trouveront en Klages leur exposant le plus radical et le plus complet. La valorisation du vécu ne sert à rien, explique Evola, si ce vécu n'est pas éclairé par une compréhension authentique du monde des origines. Donc le plongeon dans l'existentialité, dans la Vie, exigé par Klages, Bäumler ou Krieck, peut se révéler dangereux et enclencher un processus régressif (on constatera que la critique évolienne se démarque des interprétations allemandes, exactement selon les mêmes critères que nous avons mis en exergue en parlant de la réception de l'œuvre de Bachofen). Ce vitalisme conduit Spengler, pense Evola, à énoncer «des choses à faire blêmir» sur le bouddhisme, le taoïsme et le stoïcisme, sur la civilisation gréco-romaine (qui, pour Spengler, ne serait qu'une civilisation de la "corporéité"). Enfin, Evola n'admet pas la valorisation spenglérienne de l'«homme faustien», figure née au moment des grandes découvertes, de la Renaissance et de l'humanisme; par cette détermination temporelle, l'homme faustien est porté vers l'horizontalité plutôt que vers la verticalité. Sur le césarisme, phénomène politique de l'ère des masses, Evola partage le même jugement négatif que Spengler.
Les pages consacrées à Spengler dans Le chemin du Cinabre sont donc très critiques; Evola conclut même que l'influence de Spengler sur sa pensée a été nulle. Tel n'est pas l'avis d'un analyste des œuvres de Spengler et d'Evola, Attilio Cucchi (in «Evola, la Tradizione e Spengler», Orion, n°89, Février 1992). Pour Cucchi, Spengler a influencé Evola, notamment dans sa critique de la notion d'«Occident»; en affirmant que la civilisation occidentale n'est pas la civilisation, la seule civilisation qui soit, Spengler la relativise, comme Guénon la condamne. Evola, lecteur attentif de Spengler et de Guénon, va combiner éléments de critique spenglériens et éléments de critique guénoniens. Spengler affirme que la culture occidentale faustienne, qui a commencé au Xième siècle, décline, bascule dans la Zivilisation, ce qui contribue à figer, assécher et tuer son énergie intérieure. L'Amérique connaît déjà ce stade final de Zivilisation technicienne et dé-ruralisée. C'est sur cette critique spenglérienne de la Zivilisation qu'Evola développera plus tard sa critique du bolchévisme et de l'américanisme: si la Zivilisation est crépusculaire chez Spengler, l'Amérique est l'extrême-Occident pour Guénon, c'est-à-dire l'irreligion poussée jusqu'à ses conséquences ultimes. Chez Evola, indubitablement, les arguments spenglériens et guénoniens se combinent, même si, en bout de course, c'est l'option guénonienne qui prend le dessus, surtout en 1957, quand paraît l'édition du Déclin de l'Occident chez Longanesi, avec une préface d'Evola. En revanche, la critique spenglérienne du césarisme politique se retrouve, parfois mot pour mot, dans Le fascisme vu de droite et Les Hommes au milieu des ruines.
Le préfacier de l'édition allemande de ce dernier livre (Menschen inmitten von Ruinen, Hohenrain, Tübingen, 1991), le Dr. H.T. Hansen, confirme les vues de Cucchi: plusieurs idées de Spengler se retrouvent en filigrane dans Les Hommes au milieu des ruines; notamment, l'idée que l'Etat est la forme intérieure, l'«être-en-forme» de la nation; l'idée que le déclin se mesure au fait que l'homme faustien est devenu l'esclave de sa création; la machine le pousse sur une voie, où il ne connaîtra plus jamais le repos et d'où il ne pourra jamais plus rebrousser chemin. Fébrilité et fuite en avant sont des caractéristiques du monde moderne ("faustien" pour Spengler) que condamnent avec la même vigueur Guénon et Evola. Dans Les Années décisives (1933), Spengler critique le césarisme (en clair: le national-socialisme hitlérien), comme issu du titanisme démocratique. Evola préfacera la traduction italienne de cet ouvrage, après une lecture très attentive. Enfin, le «style prussien», exalté par Spengler, correspond, dit le Dr. H.T. Hansen, à l'idée évolienne de l'«ordre aristocratique de la vie, hiérarchisé selon les prestations». Quant à la prééminence nécessaire de la grande politique sur l'économie, l'idée se retrouve chez les deux auteurs. L'influence de Spengler sur Evola n'a pas été nulle, contrairement à ce que ce dernier affirme dans Le chemin du Cinabre.
00:05 Publié dans Révolution conservatrice | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : allemagne, italie, oswald spengler, julius evola, evola, tradition, traditionalisme, philosophie, années 20, années 30 | | del.icio.us | | Digg | Facebook
lundi, 06 avril 2009
Spengler: An Introduction to his Life and Ideas
Spengler: An Introduction to His Life and IdeasKeith Stimely |
Oswald Spengler was born in Blankenburg (Harz) in central Germany in 1880, the eldest of four children, and the only boy. His mother's side of the family was quite artistically bent. His father, who had originally been a mining technician and came from a long line of mineworkers, was an official in the German postal bureaucracy, and he provided his family with a simple but comfortable middle class home. [Image: Oswald Spengler.] The young Oswald never enjoyed the best of health, and suffered from migraine headaches that were to plague him all his life. He also had an anxiety complex, though he was not without grandiose thoughts -- which because of his frail constitution had to be acted out in daydreams only. When he was ten the family moved to the university city of Halle. Here Spengler received a classical Gymnasium education, studying Greek, Latin, mathematics and natural sciences. Here too he developed his strong affinity for the arts -- especially poetry, drama, and music. He tried his hand at some youthful artistic creations of his own, a few of which have survived -- they are indicative of a tremendous enthusiasm but not much else. At this time also he came under the influence of Goethe and Nietzsche, two figures whose importance to Spengler the youth and the man cannot be overestimated. After his father's death in 1901, Spengler at 21 entered the University of Munich. In accordance with German student-custom of the time, after a year he proceeded to other universities, first Berlin and then Halle. His main courses of study were in the classical cultures, mathematics, and the physical sciences. His university education was financed in large part by a legacy from a deceased aunt. His doctoral dissertation at Halle was on Heraclitus, the "dark philosopher" of ancient Greece whose most memorable line was "War is the Father of all things." He failed to pass his first examination because of "insufficient references" -- a characteristic of all his later writings that some critics took a great delight in pointing out. However, he passed a second examination in 1904, and then set to writing the secondary dissertation necessary to qualify as a high school teacher. This became The Development of the Organ of Sight in the Higher Realms of the Animal Kingdom. It was approved, and Spengler received his teaching certificate. His first post was at a school in Saarbrücken. Then he moved to Düsseldorf and, finally, Hamburg. He taught mathematics, physical sciences, history, and German literature, and by all accounts was a good and conscientious instructor. But his heart was not really in it, and when in 1911 the opportunity presented itself for him to "go his own way" (his mother had died and left him an inheritance that guaranteed him a measure of financial independence), he took it, and left the teaching profession for good. Historical Explanation of Current TrendsHe settled in Munich, there to live the life of an independent scholar/philosopher. He began the writing of a book of observations on contemporary politics whose idea had preoccupied him for some time. Originally to be titled Conservative and Liberal, it was planned as an exposition and explanation of the current trends in Europe -- an accelerating arms race, Entente "encirclement" of Germany, a succession of international crises, increasing polarity of the nations -- and where they were leading. However in late 1911 he was suddenly struck by the notion that the events of the day could only be interpreted in "global" and "total-cultural" terms. He saw Europe as marching off to suicide, a first step toward the final demise of European culture in the world and in history.The Great War of 1914-1918 only confirmed in his mind the validity of a thesis already developed. His planned work kept increasing in scope far, far beyond the original bounds. Spengler had tied up most of his money in foreign investments, but the war had largely invalidated them, and he was forced to live out the war years in conditions of genuine poverty. Nevertheless he kept at his work, often writing by candle-light, and in 1917 was ready to publish. He encountered great difficulty in finding a publisher, partly because of the nature of the work, partly because of the chaotic conditions prevailing at the time. However in the summer of 1918, coincident with the German collapse, finally appeared the first volume of The Decline of the West, subtitled "Form and Actuality." Publishing SuccessTo no little surprise on the part of both Spengler and his publisher, the book was an immediate and unprecedented success. It offered a rational explanation for the great European disaster, explaining it as part of an inevitable world-historic process. German readers especially took it to heart, but the work soon proved popular throughout Europe and was quickly translated into other languages. Nineteen-nineteen was "Spengler's year," and his name was on many tongues.Professional historians, however, took great umbrage at this pretentious work by an amateur (Spengler was not a trained historian), and their criticisms -- particularly of numerous errors of fact and the unique and unapologetic "non-scientific" approach of the author -- filled many pages. It is easier now than it was then to dispose of this line of rejection-criticism. Anyway, with regard to the validity of his postulate of rapid Western decline, the contemporary Spenglerian need only say to these critics: Look about you. What do you see? In 1922 Spengler issued a revised edition of the first volume containing minor corrections and revisions, and the year after saw the appearance of the second volume, subtitled Perspectives of World History. He thereafter remained satisfied with the work, and all his later writings and pronouncements are only enlargements upon the theme he laid out in Decline. A Direct ApproachThe basic idea and essential components of The Decline of the West are not difficult to understand or delineate. (In fact, it is the work's very simplicity that was too much for his professional critics.) First, though, a proper understanding requires a recognition of Spengler's special approach to history. He himself called it the "physiogmatic" approach -- looking things directly in the face or heart, intuitively, rather than strictly scientifically. Too often the real meaning of things is obscured by a mask of scientific-mechanistic "facts." Hence the blindness of the professional "scientist-type" historians, who in a grand lack of imagination see only the visible.Utilizing his physiogmatic approach, Spengler was confident of his ability to decipher the riddle of History -- even, as he states in Decline's very first sentence, to predetermine history. The following are his basic postulates: 1. The "linear" view of history must be rejected, in favor of the cyclical. Heretofore history, especially Western history, had been viewed as a "linear" progression from lower to higher, like rungs on a ladder -- an unlimited evolution upward. Western history is thus viewed as developing progressively: Greek >Roman >Medieval >Renaissance >Modern, or, Ancient > Medieval >Modern. This concept, Spengler insisted, is only a product of Western man's ego -- as if everything in the past pointed to him, existed so that he might exist as a yet-more perfected form. This "incredibly jejune and meaningless scheme" can at last be replaced by one now discernible from the vantage-point of years and a greater and more fundamental knowledge of the past: the notion of History as moving in definite, observable, and -- except in minor ways -- unrelated cycles. 'High Cultures'2. The cyclical movements of history are not those of mere nations, states, races, or events, but of High Cultures. Recorded history gives us eight such "high cultures": the Indian, the Babylonian, the Egyptian, the Chinese, the Mexican (Mayan-Aztec), the Arabian (or "Magian"), the Classical (Greece and Rome), and the European-Western.Each High Culture has as a distinguishing feature a "prime symbol." The Egyptian symbol, for example, was the "Way" or "Path," which can be seen in the ancient Egyptians' preoccupation -- in religion, art, and architecture (the pyramids) -- with the sequential passages of the soul. The prime symbol of the Classical culture was the "point-present" concern, that is, the fascination with the nearby, the small, the "space" of immediate and logical visibility: note here Euclidean geometry, the two-dimensional style of Classical painting and relief-sculpture (you will never see a vanishing point in the background, that is, where there is a background at all), and especially: the lack of facial expression of Grecian busts and statues, signifying nothing behind or beyond the outward. [Image: Atlas Bringing Heracles the Golden Apples in the presence of Athena, a metope illustrating Heracles' Eleventh Labor, with Athena helping Heracles hold up the sky. From the Temple of Zeus in Olympia, c. 460 BC.] The prime symbol of Western culture is the "Faustian Soul" (from the tale of Doctor Faustus), symbolizing the upward reaching for nothing less than the "Infinite." This is basically a tragic symbol, for it reaches for what even the reacher knows is unreachable. It is exemplified, for instance, by Gothic architecture (especially the interiors of Gothic cathedrals, with their vertical lines and seeming "ceilinglessness"). [Image: Amiens choir.] The "prime symbol" effects everything in the Culture, manifesting itself in art, science, technics and politics. Each Culture's symbol-soul expresses itself especially in its art, and each Culture has an art form that is most representative of its own symbol. In the Classical, they were sculpture and drama. In Western culture, after architecture in the Gothic era, the great representative form was music -- actually the pluperfect expression of the Faustian soul, transcending as it does the limits of sight for the "limitless" world of sound. 'Organic' Development3. High Cultures are "living" things -- organic in nature -- and must pass through the stages of birth-development-fulfillment-decay-death. Hence a "morphology" of history. All previous cultures have passed through these distinct stages, and Western culture can be no exception. In fact, its present stage in the organic development-process can be pinpointed.The high-water mark of a High Culture is its phase of fulfillment -- called the "culture" phase. The beginning of decline and decay in a Culture is the transition point between its "culture" phase and the "civilization" phase that inevitably follows. The "civilization" phase witnesses drastic social upheavals, mass movements of peoples, continual wars and constant crises. All this takes place along with the growth of the great "megalopolis" -- huge urban and suburban centers that sap the surrounding countrysides of their vitality, intellect, strength, and soul. The inhabitants of these urban conglomerations -- now the bulk of the populace -- are a rootless, soulless, godless, and materialistic mass, who love nothing more than their panem et circenses. From these come the subhuman "fellaheen" -- fitting participants in the dying-out of a culture. With the civilization phase comes the rule of Money and its twin tools, Democracy and the Press. Money rules over the chaos, and only Money profits by it. But the true bearers of the culture -- the men whose souls are still one with the culture-soul -- are disgusted and repelled by the Money-power and its fellaheen, and act to break it, as they are compelled to do so -- and as the mass culture-soul compels finally the end of the dictatorship of money. Thus the civilization phase concludes with the Age of Caesarism, in which great power come into the hands of great men, helped in this by the chaos of late Money-rule. The advent of the Caesars marks the return of Authority and Duty, of Honor and "Blood," and the end of democracy. With this arrives the "imperialistic" stage of civilization, in which the Caesars with their bands of followers battle each other for control of the earth. The great masses are uncomprehending and uncaring; the megalopoli slowly depopulate, and the masses gradually "return to the land," to busy themselves there with the same soil-tasks as their ancestors centuries before. The turmoil of events goes on above their heads. Now, amidst all the chaos of the times, there comes a "second religiosity"; a longing return to the old symbols of the faith of the culture. Fortified thus, the masses in a kind of resigned contentment bury their souls and their efforts into the soil from which they and their culture sprang, and against this background the dying of the Culture and the civilization it created is played out. Predictable Life CyclesEvery Culture's life-span can be seen to last about a thousand years: The Classical existed from 900 BC to 100 AD; the Arabian (Hebraic-semitic Christian-Islamic) from 100 BC to 900 AD; the Western from 1000 AD to 2000 AD. However, this span is the ideal, in the sense that a man's ideal life-span is 70 years, though he may never reach that age, or may live well beyond it. The death of a Culture may in fact be played out over hundreds of years, or it may occur instantaneously because of outer forces -- as in the sudden end of the Mexican Culture.Also, though every culture has its unique Soul and is in essence a special and separate entity, the development of the life cycle is paralleled in all of them: For each phase of the cycle in a given Culture, and for all great events affecting its course, there is a counterpart in the history of every other culture. Thus, Napoleon, who ushered in the civilization phase of the Western, finds his counterpart in Alexander of Macedon, who did the same for the Classical. Hence the "contemporaneousness" of all high cultures. In barest outline these are the essential components of Spengler's theory of historical Culture-cycles. In a few sentences it might be summed up: Human history is the cyclical record of the rise and fall of unrelated High Cultures. These Cultures are in reality super life-forms, that is, they are organic in nature, and like all organisms must pass through the phases of birth-life-death. Though separate entities in themselves, all High Cultures experience parallel development, and events and phases in any one find their corresponding events and phases in the others. It is possible from the vantage point of the twentieth century to glean from the past the meaning of cyclic history, and thus to predict the decline and fall of the West.Needless to say, such a theory -- though somewhat heralded in the work of Giambattista Vico and the 19th-century Russian Nikolai Danilevsky, as well as in Nietzsche -- was destined to shake the foundations of the intellectual and semi-intellectual world. It did so in short order, partly owing to its felicitous timing, and partly to the brilliance (though not unflawed) with which Spengler presented it. Polemic StyleThere are easier books to read than Decline -- there are also harder -- but a big reason for its unprecedented (for such a work) popular success was the same reason for its by-and-large dismissal by the learned critics: its style. Scorning the type of "learnedness" that demanded only cautionary and judicious statements -- every one backed by a footnote -- Spengler gave freewheeling vent to his opinions and judgments. Many passages are in the style of a polemic, from which no disagreement can be brooked.To be sure, the two volumes of Decline, no matter the opinionated style and unconventional methodology, are essentially a comprehensive justification of the ideas presented, drawn from the histories of the different High Cultures. He used the comparative method which, of course, is appropriate if indeed all the phases of a High Culture are contemporaneous with those of any other. No one man could possibly have an equally comprehensive knowledge of all the Cultures surveyed, hence Spengler's treatment is uneven, and he spends relatively little time on the Mexican, Indian, Egyptian, Babylonian, and Chinese -- concentrating on the Arabian, Classical, and Western, especially these last two. The most valuable portion of the work, as even his critics acknowledge, is his comparative delineation of the parallel developments of the Classical and Western cultures. Spengler's vast knowledge of the arts allowed him to place learned emphasis on their importance to the symbolism and inner meaning of a Culture, and the passages on art forms are generally regarded as being among the more thought-provoking. Also eyebrow-raising is a chapter (the very first, in fact, after the Introduction) on "The Meaning of Numbers," in which he asserted that even mathematics -- supposedly the one certain "universal" field of knowledge -- has a different meaning in different cultures: numbers are relative to the people who use them. "Truth" is likewise relative, and Spengler conceded that what was true for him might not be true for another -- even another wholly of the same culture and era. Thus Spengler's greatest breakthrough may perhaps be his postulation of the non-universality of things, the "differentness" or distinctiveness of different people and cultures (despite their fated common end -- an idea that is beginning to take hold in the modern West, which started this century supremely confident of the wisdom and possibility of making the world over in its image. Age of CaesarsBut is was his placing of the current West into his historical scheme that aroused the most interest and the most controversy. Spengler, as the title of his work suggests, saw the West as doomed to the same eventual extinction that all the other High Cultures had faced. The West, he said, was now in the middle of its "civilization" phase, which had begun, roughly, with Napoleon. The coming of the Caesars (of which Napoleon was only a foreshadowing) was perhaps only decades away. Yet Spengler did not counsel any kind of sighing resignation to fate, or blithe acceptance of coming defeat and death. In a later essay, "Pessimism?" (1922), he wrote that the men of the West must still be men, and do all they could to realize the immense possibilities still open to them. Above all, they must embrace the one absolute imperative: The destruction of Money and democracy, especially in the field of politics, that grand and all-encompassing field of endeavor.'Prussian' SocialismAfter the publication of the first volume of Decline, Spengler's thoughts turned increasingly to contemporary politics in Germany. After experiencing the Bavarian revolution and its short-lived Soviet republic, he wrote a slender volume titled Prussianism and Socialism. Its theme was that a tragic misunderstanding of the concepts was at work: Conservatives and socialists, instead of being at loggerheads, should united under the banner of a true socialism. This was not the Marxist-materialist abomination, he said, but essentially the same thing as Prussianism: a socialism of the German community, based on its unique work ethic, discipline, and organic rank instead of "money." This "Prussian" socialism he sharply contrasted both to the capitalistic ethic of England and the "socialism" of Marx (!), whose theories amounted to "capitalism for the proletariat."In his corporate state proposals Spengler anticipated the Fascists, although he never was one, and his "socialism" was essentially that of the National Socialists (but without the folkish racialism). His early appraisal of a corporation for which the State would have directional control but not ownership of or direct responsibility for the various private segments of the economy sounded much like Werner Sombart's later favorable review of National Socialist economics in his A New Social Philosophy [Princeton Univ. Press, 1937; translation of Deutscher Sozialismus (1934)]. Prussianism and Socialism did not meet with a favorable reaction from the critics or the public -- eager though the public had been, at first, to learn his views. The book's message was considered to "visionary" and eccentric -- it cut across too many party lines. The years 1920-23 saw Spengler retreat into a preoccupation with the revision of the first volume of Decline, and the completion of the second. He did occasionally give lectures, and wrote some essays, only a few of which have survived. Political InvolvementIn 1924, following the social-economic upheaval of the terrible inflation, Spengler entered the political fray in an effort to bring Reichswehr general Hans von Seekt to power as the country's leader. But the effort came to naught. Spengler proved totally ineffective in practical politics. It was the old story of the would-be "philosopher-king," who was more philosopher than king (or king-maker).After 1925, at the start of Weimar Germany's all-too-brief period of relative stability, Spengler devoted most of his time to his research and writing. He was particularly concerned that he had left an important gap in his great work -- that of the pre-history of man. In Decline he had written that prehistoric man was basically without a history, but he revised that opinion. His work on the subject was only fragmentary, but 30 years after his death a compilation was published under the title Early Period of World History. His main task as he saw it, however, was a grand and all-encompassing work on his metaphysics -- of which Decline had only given hints. He never did finish this, though Fundamental Questions, in the main a collection of aphorisms on the subject, was published in 1965. In 1931 he published Man and Technics, a book that reflected his fascination with the development and usage, past and future, of the technical. The development of advanced technology is unique to the West, and he predicted where it would lead. Man and Technics is a racialist book, though not in a narrow "Germanic" sense. Rather it warns the European or white races of the pressing danger from the outer Colored races. It predicts a time when the Colored peoples of the earth will use the very technology of the West to destroy the West. Reservations About HitlerThere is much in Spengler's thinking that permits one to characterize him as a kind of "proto-Nazi": his call for a return to Authority, his hatred of "decadent" democracy, his exaltation of the spirit of "Prussianism," his idea of war as essential to life. However, he never joined the National Socialist party, despite the repeated entreaties of such NS luminaries as Gregor Strasser and Ernst Hanfstängl. He regarded the National Socialists as immature, fascinated with marching bands and patriotic slogans, playing with the bauble of power but not realizing the philosophical significance and new imperatives of the age. Of Hitler he supposed to have said that what Germany needed was a hero, not a heroic tenor. Still, he did vote for Hitler against Hindenburg in the 1932 election. He met Hitler in person only once, in July 1933, but Spengler came away unimpressed from their lengthy discussion.His views about the National Socialists and the direction Germany should properly be taking surfaced in late 1933, in his book The Hour of Decision [translation of Die Jahre der Entscheidung]. He began it by stating that no one could have looked forward to the National Socialist revolution with greater longing than he. In the course of the work, though, he expressed (sometimes in veiled form) his reservations about the new regime. Germanophile though he certainly was, nevertheless he viewed the National Socialists as too narrowly German in character, and not sufficiently European. Although he continued the racialist tone of Man and Technics, Spengler belittled what he regarded as the exclusiveness of the National Socialist concept of race. In the face of the outer danger, what should be emphasized is the unity of the various European races, not their fragmentation. Beyond a matter-of-fact recognition of the "colored peril" and the superiority of white civilization, Spengler repeated his own "non-materialist" concept of race (which he had already expressed in Decline): Certain men -- of whatever ancestry -- have "race" (a kind of will-to-power), and these are the makers of history. Predicting a second world war, Spengler warned in Hour of Decision that the National Socialists were not sufficiently watchful of the powerful hostile forces outside the country that would mobilize to destroy them, and Germany. His most direct criticism was phrased in this way: "And the National Socialists believe that they can afford to ignore the world or oppose it, and build their castles-in-the-air without creating a possibly silent, but very palpable reaction from abroad." Finally, but after it had already achieved a wide circulation, the authorities prohibited the book's further distribution. Oswald Spengler, shortly after predicting that in a decade there would no longer be a German Reich, died of a heart attack on May 8, 1936, in his Munich apartment. He went to his death convinced that he had been right, and that events were unfolding in fulfillment of what he had written in The Decline of the West. He was certain that he lived in the twilight period of his Culture -- which, despite his foreboding and gloomy pronouncements, he loved and cared for deeply to the very end. Journal of Historical Review, 17/2 (March/April 1998), 2-7. The illustrations, with the exception of the Spengler photo, do not appear in the original article. |
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