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samedi, 31 mars 2012

Wilhelm Stapel, théoricien de la “communauté cultuelle”

 

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Wolfgang SAUR:

Wilhelm Stapel, théoricien de la “communauté cultuelle”

Le brillant essayiste allemand Sebastian Maass nous dresse un portrait de Wilhelm Stapel, publiciste politique de la révolution conservatrice

Armin Mohler garde surtout un grand mérite, et non des moindres: il a montré, dès 1950, comment l’héritage des idées de droite s’était transformé de manière originale pour produire un nouveau type révolutionnaire, immédiatement après la première guerre mondiale; il a baptisé ce processus de métamorphose “révolution conservatrice” et ouvert ainsi un formidable champ de recherches. Karlheinz Weissmann, pour sa part, a reformulé et réécrit le texte de base de l’ouvrage cardinal de Mohler en 2005; il souligne, dans la biographie qu’il a récemment consacrée à Armin Mohler, combien l’ouvrage “Die konservative Revolution in Deutschland - 1918-1932” a eu un “effet épocal”, tant sur les contemporains que chez ceux qui se réclament de sa postérité. Les retombées de l’ouvrage de Mohler se repèrent encore aujourd’hui.

Le travail d’un autre historien des idées, Sebastian Maass, qui appartient résolument à cette postérité de Mohler, s’inscrit bel et bien dans cette même veine. En peu de temps, Maass a exploré une part considérable des auteurs du filon “jeune-conservateur” (“jungkonservativ”) et a analysé leurs idées. L’une après l’autre, plusieurs monographies sont parues: sur Edgar Jung (2009), sur Arthur Moeller van den Bruck (2010) et sur Othmar Spann (2010). Aujourd’hui, Maass vient de sortir de presse un travail sur Wilhelm Stapel et sur son “Hamburger Kreis” (= “Cercle de Hambourg”).

Maass ne se contente pas d’évoquer la personnalité de l’auteur auquel il consacre une monographie ni d’exposer les seules idées qu’il a véhiculées. Outre une biographie, une analyse de l’oeuvre, une analyse détaillée des thèmes avancés et une insertion de l’oeuvre dans l’histoire générale des idées, les quatre volumes produits par Maass traitent également des collègues et disciples de l’auteur, ce qui permet de mettre bien en exergue le caractère collégial de ces producteurs d’idées nouvelles à une époque cruciale de l’histoire allemande. Cette manière de structurer les monographies se retrouve également dans le livre consacré à Stapel. En procédant de la sorte, Maass fait bien ressortir les principaux contours du paysage idéologique et intellectuel de la droite allemande au temps de la République de Weimar: ce paysage est structuré par des clubs et des associations comme le “Cercle de Hambourg” (autour de Stapel), le “Juni-Klub” et le cercle de la Motzstrasse à Berlin, le cercle regroupé autour de Jung à Munich, et le groupe de Othmar Spann à Vienne. Maass ajoute des documents pour compléter ses analyses. Ces documents sont importants comme par exemple l’apologie que prononce Stapel devant la “chambre de dénazification” en 1946 ou sa correspondance avec Armin Mohler.

L’angle d’attaque, que s’était choisi Mohler, était de nature herméneutique et fascine encore aujourd’hui bon nombre d’interprètes de la “konservative Revolution”. Cela vaut également pour Maass, qui reste fidèle aux leitmotive nietzschéens de Mohler comme l’image (plutôt que le concept – Bild statt Begriff), le cycle et la sphère (en lieu et place de la “linéarité”), le paganisme postchrétien. Ce regard nietzschéen s’avère parfois encombrant quand il faut aborder des auteurs qui ont un profil religieux (chrétien, catholique ou protestant). C’était d’ailleurs l’objet de la querelle épistolaire entre Mohler et Stapel dans l’immédiat après-guerre.

Malgré le nietzschéanisme mohlérien de Maass, celui-ci est malgré tout parvenu à rendre un formidable hommage à Stapel, figure importante de la “révolution conservatrice” d’inspiration protestante et auteur d’un ouvrage aujourd’hui oublié et méconnu, “Der christliche Staatsmann” (= “L’homme d’Etat chrétien”). Wilhelm Stapel (1882-1954) avait étudié l’histoire de l’art, la philosophie et l’économie politique. Il passe son doctorat en 1911 sous la houlette d’Edmund Husserl. Jusqu’en 1917, il occupe le poste de rédacteur-en-chef de la revue “Kunstwart”, un organe de “pédagogie populaire/folciste” créé par Ferdinand Avenarius et le “Dürerbund” (= la ligue Dürer). Après une querelle portant sur le patriotisme avec Avenarius, Stapel devient en 1917 rédacteur-en-chef du “Volksheim” de Hambourg, qui avait pour objet de former intellectuellement la jeunesse ouvrière; en 1919, il est rédacteur-en-chef du “Deutsches Volkstum”. Sous sa direction, cette revue, qui, à l’origine, véhiculait les idées des syndicalistes nationaux-allemands, s’est muée en un organe de la droite intellectuelle. Avec l’appui de Hans Bogner et des frères Albrecht-Erich et Gerhard Günther, Stapel inscrit la majeure partie de son travail éditorial dans le sillage d’une maison d’édition de la grande ville portuaire hanséatique, la “Hanseatische Verlagsanstalt”, qui édite de nombreux ouvrages dus à la plume de publicistes de droite. C’est dans cette maison d’édition que paraîtra d’ailleurs l’ouvrage principal de Stapel, “Der christliche Staatsmann” (1932).

C’est dans ce livre que Stapel va présenter et illustrer son concept de “Volksnomos”, de “nomos populaire/folciste”, en s’appuyant sur les idées que Hans Bogner avait élaborées sur la Polis antique des Grecs. Dans la figure mythologique du dieu de la Polis, affirmait Bogner, se trouve “l’esprit vital, la puissance unificatrice du peuple, qui doit être considéré comme une individualité concrète et centrée sur elle-même” et, par là même, une “personne”. Le nomos, c’est-à-dire l’ensemble des lois et des héritages, apparaît dès lors comme un “commandement divin” et le respect de ce que ce nomos exige, un devoir sacré. Le peuple est donc perçu comme ayant été, initialement, une “communauté cultuelle”. C’est dans une telle communauté cultuelle que s’enracine le nomos et c’est celui-ci qui fait le peuple. Chaque peuple a son nomos particulier et la pluralité des “nomoi” relève de la volonté divine. D’où la différence substantielle entre les cultures.

De cette façon, on peut classer la théologie du nomos, théorisée par le penseur de Hambourg, entre la pensée historique de Ranke et l’ethnopluralisme actuel. La théologie du nomos populaire/folciste a interpellé bon nombre d’adeptes du filon “jungkonservativ”, dont Max Hildebert Boehm, qui rédigera le livre le plus profond sur la question: “Das eigenständige Volk” (1932). Il s’agit bel et bien d’un développement de la notion de “Volkheit” chez Stapel.

Selon Boehm, la “Volkheit” n’est pas seulement une “forme typique” ou un “type” mais une norme tout à la fois éthique et esthétique. Elle englobe la polarité Etre/Vérité, relève d’une dimension tout à la fois ethnique et éthique et constitue, de fait, la puissance créatrice/génératrice d’histoire. Le peuple, en tant que sujet de l’histoire, est donc une “idée de Dieu”; l’on pourrait tout aussi bien dire: “une idée de la nature ou une apparition de la chose en soi” (dixit Stapel). Phrase qui souligne la philosophicité de l’idée de “nomos”. Celle-ci n’offre pas seulement un modèle pour définir l’identité mais se réfère à Kant et à ses antinomies tout en marquant la polarisation de l’expérience et de l’idée, de l’Etre et du devoir, des faits et des normes. Malgré la priorité accordée au “Volk”’ par rapport à l’Etat (c’est-à-dire l’auto-organisation politique d’une communauté), Stapel traite à fond du gouvernement (de la gouvernance) et des hommes politiques. Ce qui doit caractériser l’homme d’Etat, c’est la force qu’il irradie, celle qui crée l’ordre, soutient l’ardeur au combat et justifie l’autorité qu’il est amené à exercer.

Comment Stapel comprend-il le phénomène de la sécularisation? En y réfléchissant au départ de cette citation: “la domination des pères a été dissoute au profit de l’administration rationnelle”, ce qui signifie, par voie de conséquence, que la communauté guerrière, capable d’opérer des distinctions discriminantes au profit de la solidité communautaire, a cédé la place à une société civile pacifiste; en même temps, le charisme fécond de l’homme d’Etat a été aboli au profit du vote démocratique. Le libéralisme apparaît ainsi comme un contre-modèle fondé sur la critique dissolvante et sur un modèle anthropologique dont les représentants sont les produits d’une dégénérescence historique. L’homme libéral se pose comme “libéré du poids du passé et de la tâche de forger l’avenir”. Pour lui, “le passé est un chaos fumeux au-dessus duquel il s’est hissé” et “l’éternité n’est plus qu’une angoise de l’homme qui se sait créature”. Stapel s’est trompé quant au national-socialisme. En 1933, il a tenté, dans un premier temps, d’intervenir pour lui donner forme. Cette illusion s’est vite évanouie dès que des publicistes agressifs, inféodés au parti, lui ont rperoché ses “déficits” idéologiques, en l’occurrence l’absence de tout biologisme chez lui. Stapel s’est alors replié sur sa foi et a perçu Hitler comme “sotériologue” hostile aux vrais dieux de la Cité et porté par un orgueil déplacé.

Wolfgang SAUR.

(article-recension paru dans “Junge Freiheit”, Berlin, n°10/2012; http://www.jungefreiheit.de ).

Sebastian MAASS, Starker Staat und Imperium Teutonicum: Wilhelm Stapel, Carl Schmitt und  der Hamburger Kreis, Regin Verlag, Kiel, 2011 (190 S., 18,95 euro).

 

mercredi, 14 mars 2012

Waldemar Pabst - Noskes "Bluthund" oder Patriot

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Rüdiger Konrad

Waldemar Pabst

Noskes "Bluthund" oder Patriot

 

ISBN 978-3-937820-17-0

352 Seiten + 32 Seiten Bilder und Dokumente, gebunden, Hardcover

 

Preis: 24,80 Euro

 

Erscheinungstermin: 12.März 2012

  

Bublies Verlag

Bergstr. 11

56290 Beltheim-Schnellbach

Tel. 06746 / 730046

Fax 06746 / 730048

Internet: www.bublies-verlag.de

E-Brief: bublies-verlag@t-online.de

 

 

Für die einen ist Waldemar Pabst (1880-1970) auch heute noch „der Bluthund und Spießgeselle Noskes”, für die anderen bleibt er „der Patriot und Retter Deutschlands vor dem Bolschewismus”. Im Auftrag der SPD-Regierung unter Friedrich Ebert war er mit der Garde-Kavallerie-(Schützen)-Division ab November 1918 den ultralinken Auswüchsen der Revolution entgegengetreten. Vom unbeugsamen Willen beseelt, Deutschland nicht dem Bolschewismus russischer Prägung anheimfallen zu lassen, schreckte er auch nicht davor zurück, als selbsternannter „oberster Richter” eines militärischen Standgerichts, die Tötung der beiden Führer des Spartakusbundes, Rosa Luxemburg und Karl Liebknecht, zu befehlen.

Im März 1919 zählte das von Hauptmann Pabst geführte Garde-Kavallerie-(Schützen)-Korps rund 40 000 Mann, in diesen Wochen war er die tatsächliche Macht im Staate. Der im Juni 1920 von ihm mit vorbereitete Kapp-Putsch trug seine Handschrift. Nach dessen Scheitern wich Pabst nach Österreich aus und übernahm dort, für zehn Jahre, die Stelle des Stabschefs der Tiroler Heimwehr. Nach Deutschland zurückgekehrt, erlebte er den Beginn des III. Reiches, dessen Ideologie er, der Monarchist, aus weltanschaulichen Gründen ablehnte. Nach weiteren erlebnisreichen Jahrzehnten starb er 1970 in Düsseldorf.

 

In dieser reich bebilderten Biografie kommt Pabst häufig „selbst” zu Wort. Dafür wurde sein gesamter Nachlass, der dem Autor vorliegt, gesichtet, zahlreiche dokumentarische Belegstücke verwendet, darunter auch Tonbandaufnahmen aus den sechziger Jahren des 20. Jahrhunderts sowie zeitgeschichtliche Dokumente, die er handschriftlich mit Anmerkungen versehen hat. Der Leser erhält damit, quasi „aus erster Hand”, Ansichten und Meinungen einer polarisierenden Persönlichkeit und kann sich selbst ein Bild machen.

 

Inhalt

Vorwort                                                                                                                   

 

I
1880 – 1914

Kindheit in Berlin und Köln                                                                        

Kadett in Bensberg und Berlin-Lichterfelde                                                                 

Offizier im Infanterieregiment von Winterfeld (2. Oberschlesisches) Nr. 23               

Die Wochen vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg                                                                        

 

II
1914 – 1918

Als Offizier im Ersten Weltkrieg                                                                                  

Rückmarsch von der Westfront und Ankunft im revolutionären Deutschland             

 

III
1918 – 1920

Die Zeit während der Novemberrevolution als Stabschef der Garde-Kavallerie-(Schützen)-Division                                                                                                          

Die Lage in Berlin im Januar 1919                                                                                

Die Liebknecht/Luxemburg-Affäre                                                                              

Gedanken und Stimmen zur Liebknecht/Luxemburg-Affäre                                                   

Der Märzaufstand 1920 und Verabschiedung aus der Armee                                                 

Die „Nationale Vereinigung“ und erste Vorbereitungen zum Kapp-Putsch               

Der Kapp-Lüttwitz-Putsch                                                                                         

 

IV
1920 – 1931

Flucht nach Österreich und Stabschef der Tiroler Heimatwehr                                             

 

V
1931– 1970

In Deutschland 1931 - 1943                                                                                       

Schweizer Exil 1943 – 1955                                                                                       

Rückkehr nach Deutschland                                                                                       

 

Namensregister                                                                                                            

Bibliografie                                

00:05 Publié dans Histoire, Livre | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) | Tags : livre, allemagne, histoire, weimar | |  del.icio.us | | Digg! Digg |  Facebook

lundi, 20 février 2012

Le Capitaine Hermann Ehrhardt: ennemi de la République de Weimar et combattant clandestin

Jan ACKERMEIER:
Le Capitaine Hermann Ehrhardt: ennemi de la République de Weimar et combattant clandestin

EhrhartPorrait.jpgLe Capitaine de corvette Hermann Ehrhardt était, au début des années 20, plus connu qu’Adolf Hitler. Il était l’espoir et la figure du chef pour la droite radicale allemande sous la République de Weimar. Il avait participé au putsch de Kapp; il avait combattu dans les Corps Francs; il avait été un “terroriste politique”, avait tiré les ficelles de plusieurs attentats politiques et était propriétaire terrien. A propos de sa personne, on affabulait et on brodait: on l’imaginait en permanence ourdissant des complots. Avec ses compagnons de combat, il était de toutes les conversations sous la République de Weimar, faisait souvent la une des journaux. Par deux fois, ce chef bien connu des Corps Francs a dû prendre la fuite en Autriche poursuivi par les sicaires de la police politique. La seconde fois, il est resté durablement sur le territoire de la république alpine et, en 1948, est devenu citoyen autrichien. Il est mort le 27 septembre 1971 dans son château à Brunn am Walde dans le Waldviertel. Quand il est mort, il y a quarante ans, son nom et son itinéraire politique avaient été oubliés depuis longtemps. Son décès n’a suscité qu’une brève notule dans le “Spiegel” de l’époque. Qui donc était cet homme qui, jusqu’à la fin des années 20, avait été considéré comme l’ennemi le plus dangereux de la jeune République de Weimar?

Hermann Ehrhardt était né le 29 novembre 1881 à la lisière de la Forêt Noire, dans la localité de Diersburg dans le Pays de Bade. En 1899, il s’engage comme cadet de la mer dans la marine impériale allemande et y achève une carrière typique d’officier de marine. En 1904, alors qu’il a acquis le grade de sous-lieutenant (“Leutnant zur See”), il participe, sous les ordres du Lieutenant-Colonel Ludwig von Estorff, aux opérations destinées à mater la révolte des Hereros dans le Sud-Ouest africain, à l’époque colonie allemande. Ehrhardt lui-même décrira cette aventure, ainsi que d’autres épisodes de sa vie mouvementée, dans un livre intitulé “Kapitän Ehrhardt – Abenteuer und Schicksale” (“Capitaine Ehrhardt – Aventures et destinées”) et paru en 1924, alors que sa notoriété était à son zénith ainsi que son influence sur les droites politiques de l’époque de Weimar.

Quand éclate la première guerre mondiale, Ehrhardt était “Kapitänleutnant” et chef d’une demie flotille de torpilleurs. En cette qualité, il avait participé à la bataille du Skagerrak, notamment aux opérations qui avaient conduit à la destruction du destroyer britannique “HMS Nomad” de 1000 tonnes. La demie flotille d’Ehrhardt fut alors envoyée en Flandre en octobre 1916 pour lancer des opérations de reconnaissance et des raids dans la Manche, afin de protéger l’action des sous-marins. En 1917, Ehrhardt est promu “Korvettenkapitän”. En septembre de la même année, il devient le commandant de la IX flotille de torpilleurs, fonction qu’il conserve jusqu’à la fin des hostilités. Après l’armistice, en 1919, il conduit son unité à Scapa Flow, où les équipages font saborber les torpilleurs. Ehrhardt n’a pas assisté lui-même au sabordage de sa flotille car, avec la plupart de ses hommes, il était déjà retourné à Wilhelmshaven.

Le 27 janvier 1919, les communistes proclament la “République des Conseils de Wilhelmshaven”. Réagissant à cette mutinerie des matelots de Wilhelmshaven, Ehrhardt rassemble autour de lui 300 officiers de marine, des hommes de sa propre flotille ainsi que d’autres unités, et donne l’assaut, le soir même de la proclamation de cette “République des Conseils”, au quartier général des révolutionnaires. Le 17 février, il fonde, après une intense campagne de recrutement parmi les marins non communistes, la “Marinebrigade Ehrhardt”, l’un des premiers Corps Francs de l’après-guerre allemand. Elle compte environ 1500 hommes.

Avec ce Corps Francs, l’un des plus connu dans l’espace allemand entre 1918 et 1923, Ehrhardt participe à l’élimination des “républiques des conseils” de Munich et de Braunschweig en avril et en mai 1919. Dans le centre du pays aussi, la Brigade Ehrhardt met un terme à plusieurs foyers insurrectionnels. En août 1919, la Brigade est engagée contre la première insurrection polonaise en Haute-Silésie. A la fin de l’année 1919, la troupe se voit renforcée par des éléments issus des unités ayant opéré dans les Pays Baltes, si bien qu’elle finit par compter 4000 hommes. A la charnière des années 1919 et 1920, Ehrhardt et ses hommes sont au repos et casernés dans le camp d’entraînement de Döberitz près de Berlin, où la dissolution de tous les Corps Francs, y compris la Brigade de Marine d’Ehrhardt, doit avoir lieu, comme l’exigent les vainqueurs.

ehrhardt2.jpgAu début du mois de mars 1920, Ehrhardt entre en rébellion contre l’ordre de dissolution et rejoint le putsch dit de Kapp, mené par un haut fonctionnaire prussien, Wolfgang Kapp, et par un général d’infanterie, Walther von Lüttwitz. La mission de la Brigade Ehrhardt était d’occuper le quartier gouvernemental de la capitale. Au cours de ce putsch, Ehrhardt a fait savoir ce qu’il entendait par “application de la violence” en cas de coup d’Etat: après que les fonctionnaires berlinois aient refusé de travailler pour le gouvernement putschiste, Ehrhardt aurait dit: “Eh bien, nous allons coller au mur les trois premiers fonctionnaires qui refusent de travailler. On verra bien alors si le reste va se mettre à travailler ou non”. Lorsque Kapp refusa d’appliquer cette mesure drastique, Ehrhardt a lâché ce commentaire: “Alors le putsch est fichu!”.

Après l’échec du putsch de Kapp et la dissolution effective de la Brigade, le 31 mai 1920, la tête d’Ehrhardt fut mise à prix en Prusse. Il prit la fuite et se réfugia en Bavière, à Munich, où les nationaux tenaient le pouvoir sous la houlette du premier ministre bavarois, le Chevalier Gustav von Kahr. Celui-ci toléra sa présence sur le sol bavarois et ne le fit pas extrader. Alors qu’une partie de ses anciens soldats et compagnons s’engageaient dans la Reichswehr nouvellement reconstituée, une autre partie choisit la clandestinité: par l’intermédiaire de l’“Organisation Consul”, ils participèrent à l’organisation et à l’exécution de nombreux attentats politiques. Ainsi, Matthias Erzberger, Karl Geis et Walter Rathenau ont été éliminés par d’anciens combattants de la Brigade Ehrhardt. Immédiatement après l’attentat perpétré contre Erzberger, Ehrhardt se réfugia en Hongrie car il craignait d’être arrêté, accusé d’avoir tiré les ficelles du complot fatal. Vu l’état de l’opinion publique après les premiers attentats, la Bavière n’offrait plus un refuge sûr pour le Capitaine.

En novembre 1922, Ehrhardt revient de son exil hongrois. Il est immédiatement arrêté. Mais, en juillet 1923, avec l’aide de ses hommes, Ehrhardt réussit une évasion spectaculaire et se réfugie en Suisse, puis revient à Munich sous une fausse identité. Dans les cercles nationalistes de la capitale bavaroise, il s’oppose de manière véhémente et ferme contre le putsch manigancé par Hitler et Ludendorff, car, à son avis, il avait été préparé de manière fort peu professionnelle.

EHRHARDT1.jpgDès ce moment, les nationaux-socialistes considèreront Ehrhardt comme une personnalité peu fiable. Le Capitaine a perdu aussi beaucoup de son prestige dans les rangs des droites allemandes. En avril 1924, vu l’imminence d’un procès pénal, Hermann Ehrhardt quitte le Reich pour l’Autriche; il revient en octobre 1926 après une amnistie générale décrétée par le Président Paul von Hindenburg. En 1931, Ehrhardt fonde le groupe “Gefolgschaft” (littéralement: la “Suite”), qui, malgré la perte de prestige subie par Ehrhardt, parvient encore à rassembler plus de 2000 de ses adhérants, ainsi que des nationaux-socialistes et des communistes déçus. Ils voulaient empêcher Hitler de prendre le pouvoir et fustigeaient la “mauvaise politique de la NSDAP”. Ehrhardt entretenait des rapports avec Otto Strasser et l’aile socialiste de la NSDAP. En 1933, Ehrhardt s’installe sur les terres du Comte von Bredow à Klessen dans le Westhavelland. En juin 1934, quand Hitler élimine Röhm, Ehrhardt aurait normalement dû faire partie des victimes de la purge. Il a réussi à prendre la fuite à temps devant les SS venus pour l’abattre, en se réfugiant dans la forêt toute proche. Les sicaires ne l’ont que mollement poursuivi car, dit-on, beaucoup de membres de sa Brigade avaient rejoint les SS. Ehrhardt s’est d’abord réfugié en Suisse puis, en 1936, en Autriche, où son épouse, le Princesse Viktoria zu Hohenlohe-Öhringen possédait un château à Brunn im Walde dans le Waldviertel. Ehrhardt n’a plus fait autre chose que gérer ces terres, que participer à des chasses au gibier et que s’adonner à la sylviculture. Il s’est complètement retiré de la politique.

Après l’Anschluss, Hitler fit savoir à Ehrhardt qu’il pouvait vivre en paix dans le Waldviertel à condition qu’il ne s’exprime plus politiquement et renonce à tout activisme. Après la seconde guerre mondiale, Hermann Ehrhardt est devenu citoyen autrichien en 1948. Après sa mort, il a été enterré dans le cimetière de la commune de Lichtenau im Waldviertel. La pierre tombale, sous laquelle reposent Ehrhardt et son épouse (décédée en 1976), est décorée de l’insigne de la Brigade, présentant un drakkar viking.

Jan ACKERMEIER.
(article paru dans “zur Zeit”, Vienne, n°41/2011; http://www.zurzeit.at/ ).

samedi, 18 février 2012

Die Freundschaft zwischen Carl Schmitt und Ernst Jünger

Die Freundschaft zwischen Carl Schmitt und Ernst Jünger: Beredtes Schweigen im stillen Bürgerkrieg      


Geschrieben von: Benjamin Jahn Zschocke   

 

Ex: http://www.blauenarzisse.de/

 

„Carl Schmitt ist in meiner und ich bin in seiner Biographie unvermeidlich“, schrieb Ernst Jünger in sein Tagebuch. Die beiden gegensätzlichen Epochendenker verband eine jahrzehntelange Freundschaft, die erst nach Kriegsende zerfiel. Mit Hitler begriff der Künstler Jünger, nichts in der Politik verloren zu haben. Er vermied folglich jedwede Konzession ans dritte Reich. Der Jurist Schmitt glaubte an seinen gestalterischen Einfluß und wollte den Staat von innen vor der „Bewegung“ retten. Wohlwollend ließ er sich also von Göring zum preußischen Staatsrat ernennen. Martin Tielke setzt dieses widersprüchliche Miteinander in Der stille Bürgerkrieg. Ernst Jünger und Carl Schmitt im dritten Reich ins Verhältnis und beläßt es nicht bei der rein biographischen Betrachtung. Kenntnisreich bringt er die historische Situation mit den sich beeinflußenden Geistern von Jünger und Schmitt in Verbindung.

Der Konservative ist nicht nazifizierbar

Das galt trotz ihrer unterschiedlichen Rollen im dritten Reich gleichfalls für Jünger und Schmitt. Letzterer glaubte sich mit seiner Staatsratswürde am Beginn einer aussichtsreichen Karriere und entschied sich darum für einen aufgesetzten Opportunismus, ein lautes und überspanntes Mitmachen, um den inneren Widerwillen gegen den NS-Staat zu kaschieren. Doch selbst die tumben Nazis erkannten das irgendwann: Die Karriere endete ruckhaft 1936, noch ehe sie begonnen hatte. Von da an sprach man von Schmitt offiziell im Präteritum. Die folgenden knapp zehn Jahre befand er sich im inneren Exil in Berlin, veröffentlichte sporadisch und nichts Konkretes. Als Lebensmotto wählte er das alte Philosophenwort vom bewußten Schweigen des Denkers in gefährlichen Zeiten. Tielke vermutet dabei, Schmitt verdankte sein Leben einzig seinem Staatsrats-Titel, den er bis zum Kriegsschluß behielt.

Auch Jünger wählte den Weg nach innen und verstummte zu Kriegbeginn. Als Angehöriger der Wehrmacht in Paris stationiert, war seine komfortable Unterbringung alles andere als ungefährlich. Schmitt sollte das später sehr entscheidend mißdeuten und zum Vorwurf gegen ihn nutzen. Noch stärker als er war Jünger der Bespitzelung ausgesetzt. Der Denunziant wohnte in Paris Tür an Tür.

Tielke entwirft ein bedrückendes Bild des NS-Terrors, des stillen Bürgerkriegs und beschreibt, wie sich die beiden Denker um dessen Charakter und Auswirkungen stritten. Was Schmitt schon früh vorausgesagt hatte, trat nun ein. Unter dem asymmetrischen Krieg, also einem Krieg ohne erkennbares Feind-Freund-Verhältnis, sollte Jünger als Hauptmann besonders leiden. Der Frontverlauf war nicht mehr erkennbar, der Feind stand überall. Der Pour le Mérite-Träger Jünger stand aber für eine ritterliche Kriegsmoral und wich dem zuletzt unerträglichen Druck 1942 mit seiner Versetzung an die Kaukasus-Front aus. Nach Kriegsende verweigerte er sich genau wie Schmitt einem Entnazifizierungsverfahren. Beide stehen deshalb bis heute unter gutmenschlichem Generalverdacht. Auch hier greift Tielke ein und liefert viele schlagende Argumente zur Verteidigung beider.

„Der Gegensatz zwischen dem kühl analytischen Juristen und dem bildverhafteten Augenmenschen“

Bis 1945 bestand zwischen Jünger und Schmitt Konsens über die Ablehnung des dritten Reiches. Man kommunizierte im Verborgenen, nicht selten auf Latein, lebte so unauffällig wie möglich und pflegte die Konspiration zusammen mit Jüngers Frau Gretha, der Schmitt sehr zugetan war. Zum Knackpunkt wurde später erst beider schriftstellerische Auseinandersetzung mit dem dritten Reich – besonders Jüngers Roman Heliopolis und Schmitts Werk über Thomas Hobbes Leviathan. Jünger entschlüsselte Schmitts esoterisches Werk nach Tielkes Meinung falsch und sah dessen Position zu seiner vergangenen Gefahrensituation nicht endgültig geklärt. Schmitt hingegen erschien Jüngers mythische und ungeschichtliche Position in Heliopolis zu vage, schwammig und abstakt. In Briefen und Gesprächen verspannte sich die Lage zwischen beiden zunehmend.

Anhand dieses exemplarischen Widerspruchs weißt Tielke nach, daß beider Verhalten nicht unbedingt den historischen Umständen entsprang, sondern dafür vielmehr die gegensätzlichen Denkmuster die Begründung lieferten. Während die Ausnahmesituation des dritten Reiches ihnen noch mit existenziellen Fragen darüber hinweghalf, brach der Widerspruch in der Entspannung nun vollends auf und wurde unüberbrückbar. War beider Interesse für Heraklit, Tocqueville und Bloy im Laufe vieler freundschaftlich verbundener Jahre in ihrem Werk auskristallisiert, stand der rationale und dogmatische Gelehrte nun dem immer aufs Neue stauend die Welt betrachtenden Künstler Jünger unversöhnlich gegenüber. Der im dritten Reich zu waghalsige und gescheiterte Schmitt konnte sich mit dem idealistischen und unbeugsamen Jünger auf keine gemeinsame Position zur Vergangenheit einigen. Diese Situation dauerte an bis zu Schmitts Tod.

Ein Musterstück handwerklichen Könnens

Martin Tielke vollbringt mit seinem Buch Der stille Bürgerkrieg. Ernst Jünger und Carl Schmitt im dritten Reich eine enorme Leistung. Die nur 140 Seiten müssen das Extrakt jahrelanger Recherche gewesen sein: Tielke hat dabei wirklich jeden nur denkbaren Schnipsel gelesen, der das Thema zu erhellen vermag. All das packt er in eine gefällige und aufrichtige Sprache, ordnet es logisch und übersichtlich.

Dabei ist sein Essay kein reines Fachbuch für Kenner, das unendliches Fachwissen voraussetzen würde. Über die zusammenaddiert knapp 200 Lebensjahre von Jünger und Schmitt sind schon weitaus entlegenere Bücher verfaßt worden. Tielke wird Kennern und Einsteigern gerecht: Ersterem wird die hohe Recherchetiefe Wegweiser für eigene Forschungen sein können. Dem Einsteiger bietet Tielkes Arbeit einen soliden Überblick über die während der Freundschaft entstandenen Werke von Jünger und Schmitt einerseits und über ihr Denken und Handeln andererseits. Tielke erweist sich dabei als ebenso fähiger Historiker wie Biograph.

Martin Tielke: Der stille Bürgerkrieg. Ernst Jünger und Carl Schmitt im dritten Reich. Gebunden mit Schutzumschlag. Berlin: Landt Verlag, 2007. 12 Euro.

vendredi, 20 janvier 2012

Het begrip "Querfront"

Het begrip "Querfront"

Ex: http://vrijenationalisten.blogspot.com/

Een historische beschouwing
 
Binnen de beweging vindt momenteel een hevige discussie plaats omtrent het begrip “Querfront”. Deze discussie is onder andere in gang gezet doordat het autonome deel van de beweging met Palestinasjaals, antikapitalistische leuzen en Ché Guevara shirts op een demonstratie verscheen. Sindsdien wordt het begrip te pas en (nog vaker) te onpas gebruikt. De poging om bepaalde revolutionaire symboliek, stijlen en taal- en kledinggebruik over te nemen door autonome activisten, van diverse politieke kleuren, leidt binnen de beweging maar al te vaak tot onzekerheid en twijfel. Men heeft moeite deze nieuwe “subculturele uitingen” te duiden wat betreft theorie en terminologie. Vaak volgt in dit verband de gebruikelijke verwijzing naar een vermeende “Querfront strategie” van militante anti systeemkrachten of van “Nationaal Bolsjewistische” theoretici.
 
Of en in hoeverre het begrip “Querfront” inderdaad geschikt is om het huidige proces van het in toenemende mate vervagen van grenzen tussen “links” en “rechts” nauwkeurig te beschrijven, mag evenwel ten zeerste worden betwijfeld. Ten eerste is het begrip afkomstig uit een specifieke historische context, die niet zonder meer op de huidige verhoudingen van toepassing is. Ten tweede suggereert het een innerlijke samenhang zowel qua inhoud als qua concept, die op die wijze noch in het heden bestaat en noch in het verleden bestond.
 
Het begrip “Querfront” - resp. “Querfront strategie” - dook tijdens het politiek-ideologische debat in de Weimar republiek voor de eerste keer op. Dit was in het begin van de jaren 30 tegen de achtergrond van de in verregaande mate autoritair regerende “Präsidial regimes” (door de Rijkspresident van bovenaf benoemde en met behulp van speciale noodwetgeving – Notstandgesetze – regerende reactionaire minderheidskabinetten). Geen enkele van de tussen maart 1930 – januari 1933 regerende Rijkskanseliers (Heinrich Brüning, Franz von Papen en Kurt von Schleicher) konden steunen op een parlementaire meerderheid of op een brede maatschappelijke basis. Weliswaar juichten de diverse fracties – van de Nationaal-Conservatieven tot diep in het burgerlijke kamp – de onoverzienbare uitholling van de parlementaire instituties toe. Over consistente politieke concepten of strategieën beschikten al deze groeperingen echter niet. Met name de door de uiterst reactionaire kanselier Von Papen gevolgde onvoorwaardelijk ondernemers- en Junkervriendelijke koers bleek niet in staat om het Nationaal-Conservatieve spectrum te kunnen verenigen. Het “kabinet der baronnen” (het reactionaire noodkabinet – Von Papen) leed dan ook al na slechts vijf maanden schipbreuk in november 1932 (de legendarische BVG-staking gaf haar het laatste zetje).
 
De opvolger van Von Papen als kanselier- Rijksweergeneraal Kurt von Schleicher- was er daarom veel aan gelegen om een bredere maatschappelijke en politieke ondersteuning voor zijn presidentieel regime te bewerkstelligen. In deze situatie groeide het idee van een “Quer”, dwarsliggend ten opzichte van de ideologische scheidslijn van de traditionele politieke partijen. Een bondgenootschap, bestaande uit de Reichswehr, de vakbonden en de linkervleugel van de NSDAP. Dit eventuele bondgenootschap groeide gedurende een korte periode uit tot een serieuze politieke optie. De verschillende ideeën en verwachtingen, die de diverse propagandisten van het “Querfront” met dit concept associeerden, lagen evenwel ten dele aanzienlijk uiteen.
 
Op theoretisch-ideologisch niveau was het “Querfront” in toonaangevende mate ontwikkeld door vertegenwoordigers van de Nationaal Revolutionaire TAT-kring en door hen in talrijke publicaties, zoals in de “TAT” en in de “Tägliche Rundschau”, geformuleerd. Door middel van de heerschappij van Von Schleicher hoopten de auteurs te komen tot de definitieve afschaffing van de Weimar republiek en tot beslissende stappen in de richting van een op de “volkswil” gebaseerde autoritaire staat.
 
De politieke stellingnames van Von Schleicher leken inderdaad op talrijke punten met die van de TAT-kring overeen te komen. Al gedurende de Eerste Wereldoorlog had de generaal zich ervoor sterk gemaakt om sleutelindustrieën aan een strikte controle van staatswege te onderwerpen, oorlogswinsten zwaar te belasten en prijsstabilisaties desnoods met behulp van bepaalde vormen van dwangbestuur te realiseren. Ook als Rijkskanselier stond hij voor een meer nadrukkelijke verdediging van de belangen van de staat tegenover de industrie en overwoog hij bovendien om tot gedeeltelijke nationalisaties over te gaan.
 
De ideeën van Von Schleicher hadden echter in tegenstelling tot die van de TAT-kring niet tot doel een nieuwe staatsvorm te scheppen en een vorm van het Nationale Socialisme door te doen breken. Veeleer was het denken en handelen van de Rijkskanselier gevormd door pragmatische militaire categorieën. Voor alles ging het er Von Schleicher om, om het scheppen van een sociale massabasis voor zijn presidentieel regime (dat op lange termijn ten minste gedeeltelijke wezenskenmerken van een Bonapartistische militaire dictatuur zou hebben gehad).
 
Inderdaad gingen er in de herfst van 1932 zowel binnen de Allgemeine Deutsche Gewerkschaftsbund (ADGB) alsook binnen de linkervleugel van de NSDAP steeds meer stemmen op, die een deelname aan een eventueel “Querfront” niet langer uitsloten. Zo hadden al sinds het begin van de 30’er jaren Nationaal-Corporatistische tendensen in toenemende mate binnen de ADGB voet aan de grond gekregen, terwijl tegelijkertijd het vakbondsinterne debat met betrekking tot de razendsnel groeiende Nationaal-Socialistische beweging grotendeels uitbleef.
 
Bovendien werd zowel binnen de bij de ADGB aangesloten afzonderlijke vakbonden - met het oog op de dramatische stijgende werkloosheid - in toenemende mate de roep naar een werkverschaffingprogramma van staatswege luider. Dit zorgde voor aanzienlijke conflicten met de leiding van de SPD. De traditioneel nauwe band tussen de vakbeweging ener- en de Sociaal-Democratie anderzijds was zodoende dat Gregor Strasser- fractievoorzitter van de NSDAP in de Rijksdag en de belichaming van de antikapitalistische vleugel binnen de partij- er al in mei 1932 in een opmerkelijke redevoering in de Rijksdag een economisch urgentieprogramma over ontvouwde. Dit kwam op talrijke punten zeer sterk overeen met het werkverschaffingprogramma van de vakbeweging.
 
Gedurende de zomer en herfst van 1932 vonden er een reeks van verkennende voorbesprekingen plaats tussen de ADGB leiding ener- en de Rijksregering anderzijds teneinde alle opties van een “regering van alle volkskrachten”- met inbegrip van de NSDAP - in kaart te brengen. Gregor Strasser had op zijn beurt officiële besprekingen met zowel Von Schleicher als ook met de leider van de (Sociaal-Democratische) Reichsbanner. Met de leiding van de ADGB stond hij in indirect contact. Of er ook nog rechtstreekse onderhandelingen - betreffende de vorming van een eventueel “Querfront”- tussen Von Schleicher, vakbondsleiders en Nationaal-Socialistische economen plaatsvond, is tot op heden nog altijd niet volledig duidelijk.
 
Vanaf eind augustus 1932 beschouwden de toenmalige politieke waarnemers de vorming van een kabinet bestaande uit Von Schleicher, Strasser en Leipart (ADGB-voorzitter) zeer zeker als een serieuze politieke mogelijkheid. Toen Von Schleicher begin december 1932 tot Rijkskanselier werd benoemd, was het concept van een “Querfront” reeds door de feiten ingehaald. Binnen de NSDAP bleek Strasser voor zijn concept onvoldoende steun te kunnen verwerven. Op 8 december trok hij daaruit zijn conclusies en trad af als fractievoorzitter. Ook al zijn andere partijfuncties legde hij hierop neer.
 
Ook de vakbeweging schrok in laatste instantie er voor terug om een dusdanig ondubbelzinnige positie in te nemen ten gunste van Von Schleicher's presidentieel regime. Dit te meer omdat de SPD leiding immense druk uitoefende op de leiding van de ADGB. De ambivalente houding van de vakbeweging tegenover de Nationaal-Socialistische beweging bleef evenwel bestaan. Het kabinet Von Schleicher, op dat moment totaal geïsoleerd, hield nog geen twee maanden stand. Op 30 januari 1933 werd Adolf Hitler tot Rijkskanselier benoemd. Eerst nog in een coalitiekabinet met de Duits Nationalen en met Von Papen als vice-kanselier. Drie maanden later, op 1 mei 1933, ondersteunde de ADGB de oproep van het Nationaal-Socialistische regime voor de “Tag der nationalen Arbeit” en marcheerde tezamen met alle Nationale krachten op straat. Zij waren in de overtuiging dat ook in het nieuwe Duitsland de vakbeweging een organisch onderdeel van het geheel zou zijn. Reeds de volgende dag hield de ADGB op te bestaan en werd in zijn totaliteit overgeheveld naar het nieuw gevormde Deutsche Arbeitsfront (DAF). Dit was de uiterste consequentie van het Nationaal-Corporatisme.
                                                          
Personen:
 
Strasser, Gregor (1892–1934)

1921 toetreding tot de NSDAP, gouwleider Niederbayern, 1924-1932 lid van de Rijksdag, 1926-1930 propagandaleider, 1932 afgetreden. Tijdens de “Röhmputsch”  vermoord.
 
Schleicher, Kurt von (1882-1934)

Reichswehr, generaal, Rijkskanselier; dec. 1932 – jan. 1933. Tijdens de “Röhmputsch”  vermoord.
 
Papen, Franz von (1879-1969)

Politicus Zentrumpartei (kath.), 1932 Rijkskanselier, speelde 1933 cruciale rol bij de benoeming van A. Hitler tot Rijkskanselier, 1933/34 vice-kanselier, 1933-44 ambassadeur in Wenen en Ankara.
 
Brüning, Heinrich (1875-1970)

Politicus Zentrumpartei, 1930-1932 Rijkskanselier, bijnaam de “Hungerkanzler”.

Geraadpleegde literatuur:

– Breuer, Stefan
   Ordnungen der Ungleichheit – die deutsche Rechte im Widerstreit ihrer ideen 1871-
   1945

   Darmstadt 2001

– Breuer, Stefan
   Anatomie der konservativen Revolution
   Darmstadt 1995

– Schildt, Axel
   Militärische Ratio und integration der Gewerkschaften: Zur querfrontkonzeption
   der Reichswehrführung am Ende der Weimar Republiek

   In: Richard Saage (hg): Solidargeimeinschaft und klassenkampf. Frankf. /m. 1986
   p. 346-364



Met dank aan de kameraden van NSA/ANS

 

dimanche, 25 décembre 2011

Jünger, una vita vissuta come esperienza primordiale

volpi_junger.jpg

Jünger, una vita vissuta come esperienza primordiale

Autore:

Ex: http://www.centrostudilaruna.it/

Quando nelle conversazioni con il vecchio Jünger si toccava l’immancabile motivo della Grande Guerra, sul suo volto imperturbabile si disegnava una leggera espressione di insofferenza. Con gli interlocutori più giovani, digiuni di esperienze militari, essa volgeva rapidamente in benevola comprensione.

Perché ­ ecco la domanda che la mimica del volto bastava a esplicitare ­ ridurre l’opera di una vita al suo primo episodio? Perché, nonostante egli avesse continuato a pensare e a scrivere per oltre mezzo secolo, la critica incollava così pervicacemente la sua immagine all’attivismo eroico degli inizi?

La fama precoce ottenuta con i diari di guerra lo ha effettivamente inseguito come un’ombra. E se in origine essa contribuì a dare la massima visibilità alla sua intera produzione, letteraria e saggistica, in seguito ne ha pesantemente condizionato la ricezione, ostacolando una più attenta considerazione delle profonde trasformazioni, di contenuto e di stile, avvenute nel corso degli anni. Perfino il raffinato Borges ricordava di lui soltanto Bajo la tormenta de acero, e nient’altro. Il tenente Sturm, un racconto in gran parte autobiografico, pubblicato a puntate nel 1923 e ora tradotto da Alessandra Iadicicco per Guanda, ci riporta a quel primo Jünger, offrendo uno splendido condensato dei motivi che resero così incisiva la sua elaborazione letteraria della guerra. Di nuovo ammiriamo il talento con cui il giovane scrittore avvince anche il lettore più distratto e, con la sola forza della descrizione, lo porta a toccare quell’esperienza limite. Di nuovo la sua prosa, così scandalosamente indifferente a carneficine e distruzioni, evoca le “battaglie di materiali” in cui il valore del combattente è ridotto a zero e ciò che conta è solo la potenza di fuoco “per metro quadro”. La prospettiva di Jünger scardina le tradizionali interpretazioni della guerra per esibirci il fenomeno allo stato puro. Dove altri vedevano allora la lotta per la patria, gli interessi del capitalismo o le rivendicazioni dello chauvinismo, egli coglie l’esperienza primordiale in cui la vita scopre le sue carte, in cui, nel suo pericoloso sporgersi verso l’insensato nulla, essa manifesta la sua essenza più profonda e contraddittoria. Fino all’assurdo caso, evocato nel racconto, del “camerata” che viene spinto dal terrore della morte a suicidarsi. Dal suo lungo stare in tali situazioni limite la letteratura di Jünger trae indubbiamente la sua forza: da inchiostro, si fa vita. Ma sarebbe riduttivo costringerla lì. Sulle scogliere di marmo, per esempio, per lo scenario fantastico, il timbro stilistico e la tensione narrativa va ben oltre la diaristica di guerra. E così pure altri testi, primo fra tutti lo stupendo Visita a Godenholm del 1952, che attende ancora di essere tradotto.

* * *

Tratto da Repubblica del 2 novembre 2000.

 

lundi, 12 décembre 2011

Souverän ist, wer Kalender liest. Biograph Holger Hof über den Notizbuchführer Gottfried Benn

Souverän ist, wer Kalender liest. Biograph Holger Hof über den Notizbuchführer Gottfried Benn      
Geschrieben von: Till Röcke   
Ex: http://www.blauenarzisse.de/

Holger Hof ist unbestritten ein Doyen der Gottfried-Benn-Forschung. Der Mitherausgeber der Sämtlichen Werke promovierte mit Grundlegendem über die Montagetechnik Benns. Schließlich gab er den ultimativen Bildband über das Leben des Berliner Worte-Behauers heraus. Man erinnert sich, der Dichter in Schale im Grünen, der Dichter beleibt ganz honorig. Die Münze ist damit geprägt, der letzte deutsche Lyriker von Rang für lange Zeit im Umlauf.

Der Biograph in guter Gesellschaft

Überblickt man das Feld der populären Benn-Deuter und halluzinierten Privatsekretäre, so ergibt sich folgende kleine Werkschau: Fritz J. Raddatz ästhetisch anspruchsvoll, Gunnar Decker feuilletonistisch solide, Joachim Dyck hagiographisch beeindruckend, Helmut Lethen intellektuell souverän, Christian Schärf weitblickend luzide und eben Holger Hof nüchtern detailliert. Dem Benn-Interessierten ist alles bereitet. Er muss nur noch zugreifen.

Fällt seine Wahl auf Hof, so bietet sich ihm die ganze Akkuratesse des Experten. Anhand der Tageskalender, sporadisch genutzter Gedächtnisstützen, zeichnet der Autor die Existenz Gottfried Benns nach. Dabei verlegt er sich auf den puren Lebensvollzug und erfüllt so das Ideal einer Biographie – Weltanschauung und Poetik geraten zwangsläufig zur informativen Flankierung. Das ist aus biographischer Sicht nur konsequent.

Als die Geschichte sprach

Man sollte nachträglich nicht am Sprengstoff verlassener Schlachtfelder rühren, vielleicht aber ein bisschen. Der allgemeinen Erhellung wegen. Der Bürger und Dichter Benn – das ist nun wirklich Allgemeingut – begrüßte den politischen Wechsel 1933 als revolutionäre Stunde. Die Trockenlegung des liberalen Sumpfes, das ewige Wogen auf und nieder abrupt zu beenden, war dem ästhetischen Aristokraten eine Herzensangelegenheit. Die NSDAP kam da gerade recht. Das ganze hatte freilich ein Vorspiel, eine Sozialisation der dritten Art.

Holger Hof beschreibt das schön, indem er den 1886 geborenen Benn als Kronzeugen seiner Generation ausweist. Aber mehr noch: Nach dem Zusammenbruch der wilhelminischen Gesellschaft – „der große Ast, auf dem er seit seinem Studium gesessen hatte“(Hof) – begann die Neuausrichtung. Vielmehr der Versuch einer solchen. Denn Benn hasste die bürgerliche Dekadenz ebenso wie deren politische Ausformung, die längst ausgehöhlte und albern gewordene Monarchie. Gleichzeitig war er Kind dieser Epoche, deren Mentalität hatte ihn schließlich geformt. Sein Medizin-Studium war ihm bis zum Tode heilig, was ihn nicht daran hinderte, Evolution wie Schöpfungsgeschichte gleichermaßen zu verhöhnen. Seine Suche galt dem dritten Weg. Er wurde Künstler. Er wurde Expressionist. Und dann ging alles ganz schnell.

Leier und Schwert

Von da an agierte Benn „so dicht wie möglich mit dem Rücken an der Wand“ (Hof). Das war der Dritte Weg 1933. Sein privater, wohlgemerkt. Und kein Vorhaben für Optimisten. Der Biograph operiert auch hier von der Plattform der lebensnahen Details. Sorgsam zitiert er Briefe und Kalendereinträge. Und wenn es arg brenzlig wurde, so befand sich Benn eben als Solitär in einer Lage, die schlicht „unangenehm“ (Hof) war. In der Tat widerte Benn die Öffentlichkeit an. Ein nicht zu kittender Riss zwischen Künstler und Bürger war ihm selbstverständlich. Das hieß aber nicht, dass beide Sphären nicht in permanentem Austausch stünden.

Dabei blieb seine Lyrik ohne Ausnahme von „fanatischer Reinheit“ (Benn) geprägt. Seine Prosa und vor allem die Essays aber bargen einen schwergewichtigen weltanschaulichen Gehalt. Und das über die deutschen Zwölf hinaus, bis zu seinem Verstummen im Sommer 1956. Man übersieht das gerne. Denn bequem lässt sich aus dem Überzeugungstäter ein Oppositioneller gestalten. Einer, der entsetzt ob der Entwicklung die Innere Emigration antrat. Holger Hof folgt diesem Narrativ, auch hier ist das nur konsequent. Denn in Benns Austausch mit befreundeten Dichtern, Agnes Miegel etwa oder Oskar Loerke, fand der sukzessiv wachsende Ekel vor dem Paradigmenwechsel seinen Niederschlag. Folgt man dem Bürger Benn also durch diese Jahre, wandelt man an der Seite des Biographen.

Etatismus für Ästheten

Aus Gottfried Benn lässt sich allerdings nachträglich kein Widerstandskämpfer machen. Hof versucht das auch nicht wirklich. Verdienstvoll ist der Abdruck eines mehrseitigen Briefs, mit dem Benn in lupenreinem Opportunismus den staatlichen Stellen seine Loyalität versicherte. Dies ist das Dilemma jener Jahre: So sehr Benn im Privaten klug und schonungslos das Dumpfe und Niedrige in der Bewegung erkannte, so sehr hielt er nach Außen auf Klasse. Er war bei einigen linientreuen Dichtern verfemt, nicht aber von existentiellen Gängelungen betroffen. Der Preußischen Akademie leistete er auch dann noch Dienste, als der von ihm initiierte Gleichschaltungsversuch längst fehlgeschlagen war. Und in der „Union Nationaler Schriftsteller“ bekleidete er fortan den Posten des Vizepräsidenten – die schneidige Tischrede im „faschistischen Stil“ (Mohler) zu Ehren des Futuristen Marinetti fällt in diesen Zeitraum.

Zwar verachtete Benn schon bald die politische Dimension des Dritten Reichs, aber keineswegs die schlagkräftigen Institutionen eines totalitären Staates. Von einer Hierarchie nach geistiger Reife hat Benn nie gelassen. Der Dichter als elitäres Subjekt, Kunst als dessen Ordnungskategorie: Das wird noch der Tenor sein lange nach den Trümmern der tausendjährigen Klitsche. Seine Essays, nicht nur um ´33 herum, lassen keinen Zweifel an seinem totalitären Faible. Dass Eugenik zwecks Auslese schon zu Moses Zeiten von Erfolg gekrönt war, darauf hat er allerdings später nicht mehr hingewiesen. Dennoch: Benn publizierte auch weiterhin seine Lyrik in Zeitschriften und zu seinem 50. Geburtstag 1936 erschienen die Gesammelten Gedichte.

Posse und Phänotyp

Der als antifaschistischer Beleg gerne angebrachte Ausschluss aus der Reichsschrifttumskammer 1938 war in Wahrheit eine Posse und Benn bloß das Bauernopfer. Seinem Kompagnon Hanns Johst, Schlageter-Autor und „Barde der SS“ (Rolf Düsterberg), galt die Maßnahme eigentlich. Um den Protegé Benns vor Anwürfen zu schützen, musste Benn eben gehen. Initiator der Kampagne war ein gewisser Maler Willrich, ein Rosenberg-Affiner. Von oben interessierte sich ein Jahr vor Kriegsausbruch niemand für den Doktor aus Berlin, weder weltanschaulich noch ästhetisch. Der „Neue Staat“ übersah Benn einfach, überließ ihn höchstens noch dem Kulturkampf-Feuilleton. Bis auch diese Episode zu Ende ging.

Das konnte Benn niemals verzeihen. In den Kriegsjahren sollte sein altes Kunstprogramm eine geharnischte Fortsetzung finden. Mit dem stieg er dann als authentische Figur eines Dritten Wegs, der Emigranten und Mitläufer jeweils links und rechts liegen ließ, im Aufbaudeutschland noch einmal in den Ring. Sein Erfolg war enorm, sein Credo auch nach dem Untergang des Abendlandes das alte: Die „Moderne tiefer legen“ (Thomas Wegmann). Durch das Süffige der späten Gedichte, den unversöhnlichen Spott der späten Prosa. Getragen von der Feststellung, dass sich im Pluralismus alles organisieren, aber nichts formen lässt.

Holger Hof: Gottfried Benn – Der Mann ohne Gedächtnis. Eine Biographie. Klett-Cotta-Verlag Stuttgart. 539 Seiten, gebunden mit Schutzumschlag, 32 Seiten Tafelteil. 26,95 Euro.

vendredi, 18 novembre 2011

Zeitenthobenheit und Raumschwund

Zeitenthobenheit und Raumschwund

Ästhetik der Entschleunigung

Ernst Jünger hat ein umfängliches Reisewerk hinterlassen. Im Laufe seines Lebens unternahm er mehr als 80 Reisen, etliche auch an exotische Orte in Übersee. Ausgehend von größtenteils unbekannten Dokumenten des Nachlasses – authentischen Reisenotizen und unveröffentlichten Briefen –, fügt Weber der Biografie dieses Jahrhundertmenschen das bislang ungeschriebene Kapitel eines intensiven Reiselebens hinzu.

Jünger reflektierte die Moderne als Beschleunigungsgeschichte und dokumentierte die um (Selbst-)Bewahrung bemühten Versuche, die katastrophalen Umbrüche, den permanenten Wandel des 20. Jahrhunderts literarisch zu bewältigen. Ernst Jüngers ›Ästhetik der Entschleunigung‹ liefert damit nicht nur eine Ästhetik des Tourismus und der literarischen Moderne, sondern hält auch Verhaltensregeln für eine Epoche bereit, in der das Zeit-für-sich-haben immer weniger möglich erscheint.

Jan Robert WEBER

Ästhetik der Entschleunigung
Ernst Jüngers Reisetagebücher
(1934 - 1960)
525 Seiten, gebunden mit Schutzumschlag
ISBN 978-3-88221-558-8
€ 39,90 / CHF 53,90

vendredi, 11 novembre 2011

Ernst von Salomons Bestseller der Konservativen Revolution- Die Geächteten - endlich wieder erhältlich!





Ernst von Salomons Bestseller der Konservativen Revolution- Die Geächteten - endlich wieder erhältlich!

Geschrieben von: Georg Schäfer   


Ex: http://www.blauenarzisse.de

 

Deutschland, November 1918. In hilflosem Zorn muss ein 16jähriger Kadett mit ansehen, wie der revolutionäre Mob einen jungen Soldanten misshandelt und ihm die Achselstücke herunterreißt. Sein Ehrgefühl verbietet dem Kadetten, der Konfrontation mit den Demonstranten auszuweichen, und so wird auch er von der Menge geschlagen, angespien und zu Boden gezwungen. „Einer trat mich, viele traten und hieben, ich lag und stieß mit dem Fuß, schlug um mich und wußte, es war umsonst, aber ich war Kadett und die Achselklappen hatten sie nicht.“ Den ganzen Roman hindurch wird der Name des in Ich-Form berichtenden Erzählers nicht genannt, doch es steht außer Frage, dass Ernst von Salomon in Die Geächteten seine eigenen Erlebnisse während der Kämpfe nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg in literarische Form gebracht hat.

Vom Freikorpskämpfer zum verurteilten Verbrecher

Der Erste Abschnitt des Buches, „Die Versprengten“, erzählt von den Freikorpskämpfen nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg. Der Kadett will die Demütigung Deutschlands nicht hinnehmen und tritt alsbald einem der vielen Freikorps bei. Die Heeresleitung und die SPD-geführte Reichsregierung bedienen sich dieser militärischen Verbände zum Kampf gegen die revolutionären Linken, die ein Rätesystem schaffen wollen. So beteiligt er sich zunächst an der Niederschlagung des Aufstandes der Spartakisten in Berlin. Es folgt die Schilderung der Gefechte gegen die Rote Armee im Baltikum.

Im zweiten Großkapitel „Die Verschwörer“ verlagert sich der Kampf mehr und mehr in den Untergrund. Zunächst geht es gegen die französischen Besatzer, dann schlagen die Freikorps die polnischen Freischärler in Oberschlesien zurück, die mit französischer Hilfe dieses Gebiet vom Reich abtrennen wollen. Doch Unterstützung durch die deutsche Regierung bleibt aus, diese übt sich vielmehr in Verzichts- und Erfüllungspolitik gegenüber den Siegermächten. So wenden sich die ehemaligen Freikorpskämpfer gegen die republikanische Regierung. Es entsteht ein Netzwerk von Verschwörern, das unter dem Namen „Organisation Consul“ (O.C.) die Bürger in Furcht versetzt.

Wegen Beihilfe an der Ermordung des Außenministers Walther Rathenau im Juni 1922 wird von Salomon schließlich zu fünf Jahren Haft verurteilt. Seinen Erlebnissen im Zuchthaus ist das letzte Großkapitel mit dem Titel „Die Verbrecher“ gewidmet.

Sprachliche Kraft und erzählerisches Können

Von Salomon kann packend erzählen und er vermag das Erzählte durch kühne Bilder anschaulich zu machen. Eine Beschreibung von Berliner Elendsquartieren gelingt ihm ebenso wie die Darstellung seelischer Vorgänge. Besonders die Schilderungen des Kampfgeschehens sind von einer wilden und unbarmherzigen Schönheit, einer Sprachgewalt im Wortsinne, wie sie wohl nur die Perspektive des Schlachtenteilnehmers hervorbringen kann:

„Was wir wollten, wußten wir nicht, und was wir wußten, wollten wir nicht. Krieg und Abenteuer, Aufruhr und Zerstörung und ein unbekannter, quälender, aus allen Winkeln unseres Herzens peitschender Drang! Aufstoßen ein Tor durch die umklammernde Mauer der Welt, marschieren über glühende Felder, stampfen über Schutt und stiebende Asche, jagen durch wirren Wald, über wehende Heide, sich hineinfressen, stoßen, siegen nach Osten, in das weiße, heiße, dunkle, kalte Land, das sich zwischen uns und Asien spannte – wollten wir das?“

Kritik und Verspottung der bürgerlichen Rechten

Obwohl der Autor – nicht zuletzt aufgrund solcher Stellen – oft einer Verherrlichung des Soldatentums geziehen wird, so entgeht er doch der Landser-Romantik ebenso wie der Selbstglorifizierung. Denn von Salomon berichtet auch über für das „Ich“ des Romans peinliche oder unrühmliche Situationen. Während er und seine Kameraden als Schergen des Reichswehrministers Noske (SPD) eine Haussuchung in einer ärmlichen Mietskaserne durchführen, werden sie von einem jungen Mädchen auf das heftigste geschmäht: „Habt ihr noch nicht genug gemordet? […] Ihr dringt hier ein in dieses Haus wie die Henkersknechte. Seid ihr ohne Scham? […] Man möge es euch in eure dumpfen Schädel hämmern. Ihr schützt dieselbe Klasse von Verruchten, die dieses Elend geschaffen haben!“

Mit grimmigen Spott bedenkt er das „altteutsche“ Gehabe der Völkischen und die bramarbasierenden, bierseligen Pseudopatrioten, die salbungsvolle Reden schwingen, aber die offene Auseinandersetzung mit dem Gegner vermeiden. Da „wuchsen die Blümeleien redseliger Rauschebärte“ und „der Grundakkord sehr lauten Mannestums ward in Weihe übertönt von Schillerzitaten und Deutschlandlied; dazwischen grollte Runengeraune und Rassegerassel.“ Würde sich doch die heute übliche linkskonformistische Verspottung der Deutschtümelei einmal auf solch ein literarisches Niveau erheben!

Von Salomon als Nationalrevolutionär

Während er also die „feigen Bürgerlichen“ verachtet, gilt den eisenharten kommunistischen Kämpfern seiner Zeit von Salomons Respekt. Denn er steht ihnen in mancher Hinsicht nahe, wie die immer wieder eingestreuten philosophischen Reflexionen und Dialoge zeigen. Denn wie viele Nationalrevolutionäre strebt von Salomon eine antikapitalistische Ordnung und eine Hinwendung zum Osten an, aber auf eben nationaler Grundlage. Anders als die marxistischen Revolutionäre verfügt jedoch der Nationalrevolutionär nicht über eine vorgefertigte Weltanschauung, sondern was Deutschland sein soll, entsteht erst im notwendigen Kampf um die Neuschaffung der Nation. Dieser für das Werk zentrale Gedanke macht zugleich deutlich, dass von Salomon die beschränkte politische Wirkungskraft des Nur-Soldatentums in den Freikorps erkannt hatte.

Wert für den heutigen Leser

So lernt der Leser das Denken der nationalrevolutionären Aktivisten zu begreifen. Als der Autor aber auf die Organisation Consul zu sprechen kommt, ist der Mitverschwörer von Salomon wenig luzide. Er erweckt vielmehr den Eindruck, als sei dieser konspirative Bund mehr Gerücht als Realität gewesen, um so durch eine Verschwörungspsychose die Republik zu destabilisieren. Ansonsten sind aber von Salomons Schilderungen eingängiger als jedes Geschichtsbuch. Bei der Lektüre erhält man tiefe Einblicke in das konkrete Geschehen. So wird klar, warum die Soldatenräte scheiterten, oder welche strategischen Interessen im Baltikum oder in Oberschlesien aufeinander stießen. Wer also fernab von staatsbürgerkundlichen Klischees und volkspädagogischer Mahnliteratur die politischen Kämpfe des Nachkriegs verstehen will, wird zu Die Geächteten greifen.

Zugleich wirkt dieses Buch erfrischend und provokativ auf den heutigen, in einer biederen BRD lebenden Leser, wo Revolution in Lifestyle und gefahrloser Demonstrations-Folklore zu bestehen scheint, und Politik auf die Suche nach dem praktikablen Kompromiss reduziert ist.

Ernst von Salomon: Die Geächteten. Unitall Verlag 2011. Nachdruck der Originalausgabe von 1930. 416 Seiten. 14,90 Euro.

lundi, 10 octobre 2011

Karl Otto PAETEL: Von neuer Bruderschaft

 


Karl Otto PAETEL: Von neuer Bruderschaft

Aus: Karl O. Paetel – Ernst Jünger. Weg und Wirkung. Eine Einführung, Stuttgart: Klett 1949   

 

Ex: http://www.fahentraeger.com/

Nur Fragende, nur Haderer mit der eigenen Lehre können heute Lehrer und Führer sein. Das heißt nicht, dass Renegaten der plumpen oder sublimen Art nach einem Jahrzehnt des Liebäugelns mit der Macht sich uns wieder anschließen sollen. Ihnen gilt das alte Wort von denen, die ihr Pfund verwuchert haben. Es heißt, dass nicht einfach die grauen und gesichtslosen Gestalten der saturierten konservativen Bürgerlichkeit, die nie einen Juden vergast, nie einen Russen geschlagen haben, aber auch nie angstvoll von der Zukunft ihres Landes geträumt haben, als sich die nationalsozialistische Hybris über Europa emporreckte, nie an die Würde des Menschen gedacht haben, als man in ihrer Gegenwart polnische Arbeiter an Meistbietende feilbot, sich heute an die konservative Renaissance anhängen dürfen.

 

Wer „unerschüttert“ durch die letzten zwanzig Jahre ging, hat nichts mit uns zu schaffen. Es geht um die, denen die Realität dieser Zeit das Angesicht des Göttlichen so verdunkelte, dass sie die Unzulänglichkeit der alten Wortlehren stark genug empfanden, um an die Grenze des Nihilismus zu gelangen. Die Nihilisten von gestern werden die Boten des neuen Konservativismus sein.

 

Wer nicht gespürt hat, dass in der Zeit der bombastischen Heilslehren das Fragezeichen zum Kennwort der neuen Bruderschaft werden musste, hat nicht verstanden, dass wir an einem Abschnitt der deutschen Geschichte stehen, an dem alle alten Tafeln neu geschrieben werden müssen.

 

Man gestatte mir, diese – ein wenig veränderten – Sätze aus einem kleinen an anderer Stelle veröffentlichten Aufsatz von mir noch einmal zu wiederholen. Sie mögen verdeutlichen, weshalb mir heute gerade ein Hinweis auf das Schaffen Ernst Jüngers notwendig, mehr, weshalb mir ein Ja zu diesem Werk ein Gebot der Redlichkeit zu sein scheint.

 

Wenn irgendjemand, hat Ernst Jünger heute den um einen neuen geistigen Standort Ringenden gerade deshalb etwas zu sagen, weil er die Erschütterungen der Zeit, die Inflation der Ideen, die Tiefen, in die der Mensch fallen oder in die er sich bewusst stürzen kann, nicht nur als Beobachter, als Analyst mit eisesklarer Logik auf ihre Zwangsläufigkeiten zu untersuchen unternahm, sondern stets in sich selber die damit verbundenen Visionen aus Zerstörung und Kampf sich ergebender neuer Welten erlebte: Beobachter, Kritiker – aber auch Träumer – und träumender Täter. Arthur O´Shaughnessys Ode an die Träumer der Welt gibt etwas von dem wieder, was hier gemeint ist. (…)

 

Nur wenn man die Jüngerschen „Visionen“ sowohl der „Herrschaft des Arbeiters“ wie des nachhitlerischen „Friedens“ – alle exakte Beobachtung und Berichterstattung damit einschließend – als Selbstaussagen eines solchen an einer im „Träumen“ vorweggenommenen und doch ganz realen Welt bauenden Geistes begreift, versteht man, dass Jünger selbst mit ein wenig Verwunderung dem zuschaut, dass man ihn immer wieder mit aus dem Zusammenhang gerissenen Zitaten in die Karteibegriffe tagespolitischer Pro- und Contra-Stellungnahmen einzuordnen trachtet.

 

„Träume“ dieser Art erweisen sich als existent im sichtbaren Bereich, wenn man nur deutlich genug hinschaut. Hat E.G. Winkler nicht recht gehabt, wenn er z.B. die „Herrschaft des Arbeiters“, einfach aus der täglichen Realität ablesend, dahin kommentiert: „Er herrscht gerade durch die Vollständigkeit, mit der es sich unterwirft. Jeder Vorbehalt würde sein Maß an Herrschaft vermindern. In dem, der bis zum letzten sich opfert, findet die Herrschaft ihr stärkstes Bewusstsein. Das Ganze regiert. Aber das Ganze, die ‚Gestalt‘, kann nicht darum wissen. Es ist nicht ein jemand, der herrscht, es wird geherrscht, am stärksten, am mächtigsten, wenn alle aufs Äußerste dienen.“ Vielleicht muss man in Amerika leben, dem Land, in dem wirklich die „Gestalt des Arbeiters“ alle soziologischen Definitionen in Wirklichkeit längst völlig weggesprengt hat, um zu sehen, wie „Labor“, die Arbeitswelt, als ursprüngliche Ganzheit, bei aller „Beherrschtheit“ des einzelnen Werktätigen, souverän herrscht, Literatur und Kunst, Religion und Ethos, menschliche Beziehungen und staatliche Aktionen nach ihren Notwendigkeiten entscheidend mitformt und dirigiert.

 

Jünger selbst hat sehr früh gesehen: „Überall wo der Mensch in den Bannkreis der Technik gerät…macht man sich nicht nur zum Subjekt der technischen Vorgänge, sondern gleichzeitig zu ihrem Objekt. Die Anwendung der technischen Mittel zieht einen ganz bestimmten Lebensstil nach sich, der sich sowohl auf die großen wie auf die kleinen Dinge des Lebens erstreckt.“

 

Nur sind Träume dieser Art nichts Statisches. Sie ähneln mehr als der Photographie dem Film: unablässig wandeln sich die Bilder. Was gestern fruchtbar schien, wirkt heute tödlich; was gestern bereicherte, beraubt heute. Jede Antwort birgt in sich neue Fragen. In der deutschen Nachhitlerliteratur und –publizistik kommt das Ausrufezeichen viel zu häufig vor.

 

Jeder hat einen Plan bei der Hand, ein Rezept, eine schlüssige Antwort auf die Nöte der Zeit. Parteien, Konfessionen, Gruppen aller Art – sie alle wissen nur zu genau, was zu tun und zu denken ist.

 

Ernst Jünger gehört zu denen, die sachlich, wenn auch mit innerster Anteilnahme, von den Dingen reden, die Realität sind.  Die Tatsache der internationalen „Totalen Mobilmachung“, die heute im Zeitalter des Atoms hinter allen politischen Konferenzen steht und manche idealistische Lösung wohlmeinender Weltverbesserer leicht komisch erscheinen lässt, hat er als einer der ersten in knappen Strichen gezeichnet. Man hat ihn daraufhin als einen Prediger des teuflischen Technizismus denunziert. Heute spricht er von der Substanz einer christlich-abendländischen Ordnung, die als eine objektiv feststellbare Kraft eine Garantie des neuen Völkerfriedens sein könnte. Die Naivlinge machen daraus, dass er zum Katholizismus „konvertierte“, die Erben der Aufklärung zeichnen ihn als einen modernen Verfolger der wissenschaftlichen Forschung und beschuldigen ihn, der kämpfenden Kirche die Vesten des freien geistigen Lebens auszuliefern, wie sie vorher Zeitkritik mit Aufrufen gleichsetzten.

 

Welch Missverständnis! In den Zeiten der Bereitung auf die große weltpolitische Auseinandersetzung sah er – viel klarer als die dazu „beruflich“ Berufenen – neben dem Kampf der Armeen die Mittel der totalen Kriegführung des technisierten Jahrhunderts. Heute, wo es nicht nur um die Gewinnung des äußeren Friedens in der Welt geht, sondern auch und vor allem um die Wiedergewinnung eines europäisch-deutschen Bewusstseins, sieht er mit gleicher Deutlichkeit die seelischen Kräfte, die mobilisiert werden können, um allgemein-menschliche Gefühls- und Glaubenswerte als Schutzwälle wirksam zu machen gegen die den Kontinent durchrasenden modernen apokalyptischen Reiter: Not, Verzweiflung, Hoffnungslosigkeit und neue Tyrannis. Und wieder tritt er dabei nicht als Propagandist auf.

 

Er wirbt nicht. Er stellt Fragen. Zeigt Fragestellungen.

 

Nie, wenn er hinter den Fakten Hintergründe andeutete, hat er damit gesagt, dass er das Notwendige auch als ein persönliches Glück empfindet oder als Heilmittel anpreist. Aber er hat stets seine Stimme in den Dienst der kompromisslosen Wahrheitssuche gestellt – ob er als Analytiker die zivilisatorischen Gegebenheiten in ihren Bewegungsgesetzen bloßlegte oder als „Metaphysiker“ im Grunde Kierkegaards Vision neu vor die sich wandelnde Welt stellt: „Es geht um eine neue Gesinnung. Europa ist gekleidet in blutbefleckte Lumpen…Der Umsturz der Gewalten und Sitten, von dem die nächsten Generationen Europas leben und in Krämpfen des Hasses und des Zornes und des Neides beben werden, ist nur zu verhindern durch den Umsturz der Gesinnung. Dann könnte vieles bleiben, weil alles neu würde.“

 

So entsteht, fasst man das Werk Ernst Jüngers in einem Kennwort zusammen, eine Art Theologie der Unruhe, ein Brevier des heiligen Fragezeichens. „Kommt es doch nicht darauf an, dass die Lösung, sondern dass das Rätsel gesehen wird.“ Und darin, nicht in den schiefen und tagespolitisch bestimmten Auseinandersetzungen um die „Kriegsschuld“ Jüngers, liegt auch die Erklärung dafür, dass Werk und Persönlichkeit gerade dieses Schriftstellers heute allerorten aufgeschlossene und suchende Menschen nicht loslassen und zur Stellungnahme zwingen.

 

Schaut man genauer hin, erkennt man, dass es in Wirklichkeit gar nicht um die Einzelfigur geht, sondern um die Herausforderung, die die Neueinführung des Fragezeichens in die geistige Selbstverständigung ganz allgemein bedeutet. In allen Völkern erheben sich die gleichen Stimmen. Überall ist eine heimliche Bruderschaft der Ewig-Unruhigen am Werk, sinnlos gewordene Tabus zu zerstören, mit bohrender Intensität die Fragwürdigkeit von Scheinwerten zu entlarven und hinter der Welt der Ideologien nach einem neuen, persönlich erfahrbaren Lebenssinn zu suchen, Der Italiener Ignazio Silone, der Franzose André Maulraux, der Ungar Arthur Koestler, der Amerikaner Dwight Macdonald und viel andere erheben die gleiche Frage: Kann man noch auskommen mit dem Erbe des 19. Jahrhunderts?

 

Bezeichnend dabei ist, dass in der praktischen Politik die Männer der anscheinend gleichen Fragestellungen an sehr verschiedenen Orten der „Parlamentsgeographie“ stehen. Silone, in seiner Jugend ein kommunistischer Jugendführer, später sozialistischer Redakteur, hat z.B., nachdem er im Exil sich in manchen Formulierungen sehr weit von einer im eigentlichen Sinne „linken“ Position entfernt hatte, nach seiner Rückkehr nach Italien wieder im Rahmen der sich neu bildenden sozialistischen Arbeiterbewegung zu wirken versucht. Wenn man indirekten Berichten glauben darf, nicht ohne ein zweites Mal vom Apparat in seiner persönlichen Unbedingtheit enttäuscht worden zu sein. André Malraux, Kommunist der alten Garde, ernüchtert und enttäuscht von der Borodinschen Politik in China, Verfasser des großartigen, als „trotzkistisch“ gekennzeichneten Buches „Man´s Fate“, ist, nachdem er im spanischen Bürgerkrieg als Flieger in den Reihen der Loyalisten Dienst getan hat, heute einer der nächsten Berater von General de Gaulle. Trieb Silone das Gefühl der theoretischen Mitverantwortlichkeit zurück in die Reihen der Organisation, so bewog Malraux der nie zum Schweigen gekommene Drang zur Tat, sich wieder am realpolitischen Kräftespiel zu beteiligen. Arthur Koestler, gleichfalls einst in der „roten Front“ stehend, hat, aus der Todeszelle Francos entlassen, in Kontakt mit allen „links“ von den Kommunisten stehenden Tendenzen, sich zeitweise trotz vieler Vorbehalte doch für die Sache der „halben Wahrheit gegen die ganze Lüge“ während des Zweiten Weltkrieges eingesetzt, hat, für viele völlig unerwartet, sich zugunsten der militanten jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung Irgun erklärt und vor kurzem in überfüllten Versammlungen in den USA die amerikanischen Liberalen beschworen, von der grundsätzlichen Gegenüberstellung „frei oder unfrei“ abzusehen und im Kampf gegen den Stalinismus sich für das „kleinere Übel“ der westlichen Welt zu entscheiden.

 

Der italienische Sozialist, der französische Patriot, der ungardeutsche antikommunistische Liberal-Dissident: was haben sie eigentlich gemeinsam? Und was haben sie gemeinsam mit dem ehemaligen deutschen Nationalisten und heutigen Europäer Ernst Jünger?

 

Unter anderem die im politischen Tageskampf auffällige Reaktion, dass niemand, selbst unter ihren fanatischsten parteipolitischen Gegner, ihnen jemals den Vorwand gemacht hat (d.h. hat machen können!), dass sie von irgendeiner Institution in ihren Entscheidungen „gekauft“ worden seien.

 

Die Angriffe liefen im Grunde immer auf das gleiche hinaus: ein hoffnungsloser Außenseiter nimmt persönliche Erfahrungen und Erkenntnisse über Gebühr wichtig und ordnet seinen politischen Standort danach an. Anders ausgedrückt heißt das nichts anderes, als dass individuelle Gewissensentscheidungen im Zeitalter der Massenmobilisierung verdächtig, unbequem und gefährlich erscheinen. Die Bruderschaft der Fragenden, der Beunruhigten aber, die nicht das geringste zu tun hat mit irgendwie etwa parallel zu organisierenden Stellungnahmen zu tagespolitischen Ereignissen, geht aus von der den Menschen unserer Zeit als einziges souveränes Recht gelassenen Wiederholung des sturen Lutherwortes: „Hier steh ich. Ich kann nicht anders!“

 

Ein paar Dutzend Männer in aller Welt, allen Völkern und Rassen zugehörig, in den verschiedensten Konfessionen beheimatet und mannigfachsten philosophischen Systemen folgend, sprechen das heute aus. Ernst Jünger ist nur einer von ihnen. Der Spanier Ortega y Gasset hat eine Begriffsbestimmung der hier zugrunde liegenden geistigen Situation gegeben: „Das sind die einzigen wahren Gedanken, die Gedanken der Schiffbrüchigen. Alles andere ist Rhetorik, Maske, inwendige Heuchelei. Wer sich nicht in Wahrheit verloren fühlt, verliert sie ohne Gnade, d.h. er findet sich niemals, er stößt niemals auf die eigentliche Wahrheit.“

 

Schiffbrüchig aber konnte nur jemand werden, der teilhatte am Geschehen. Sie alle, die am Brevier der Unruhe unbewusst mitarbeiteten: Jünger, Silone, Malraux, A. de Saint-Exupéry, Koestler und manche andere, sie waren (oder sind teilweise noch) dabei, die Welt zu verändern, und mitten im Handeln legt sich dann plötzlich die Frage des „Wozu?“ wie ein Mehltau auf die Aktionsbereitschaft.

 

Ein relativ unbekanntes Buch Malraux´s schließt mit den folgenden Zeilen: „‘Es gibt…keinen Tod. Es gibt – nur mich.‘ Ein Finger berührte den Schenkel. ‚Mich…der stirbt!‘ In einem Ansturm von Hass erinnerte sich Claude an ein Gebet aus seiner Kindheit. ‚Oh Gott, sei bei uns in unserem letzten Todeskampf…‘ Ach, wenn er nur durch einen Blick oder eine Bewegung, wenn schon nicht mit Worten, die verzweifelte Bruderschaft zum Ausdruck bringen könnte, die ihn aus dem Selbst herausriss. Er legte seinen Arm um Perkens Schulter. Perken sah ihn an, als ob er ein Fremder wäre, ein Eindringling aus einer anderen Welt.“

 

Der antifaschistische Dichter Silone, um „für ein Vorhandensein Zeugnis abzulegen, das vielleicht nur ein Fortbestehen ist, einen Willen zur Treue zu bekunden, den Willen nicht Verrat zu üben, was auch geschehen mag“, schließt seine Rede an den Pen-Klub 1947 mit den Worten: „Es geht nicht um die Denkart der Intellektuellen, es geht um ihre Art zu führen und zu leben. Das Heil liegt nicht in irgendwelchen Begriffen oder Theorien, denn die Dekadenz hat sich auf Wortführer der verschiedensten und widersprechendsten Lehren erstreckt. Und auch unter den unanfechtbaren Anständigen sind Männer, die die verschiedensten Philosophien und Meinungen über die Gesellschaft und den Staat vertreten. Das Heil liegt ausschließlich in einer ehrlichen, geraden, unmittelbaren, beständigen Treue zur tragischen Wirklichkeit, die die menschliche Existenz im Grunde ist. Das archetypische Bild dieser Wirklichkeit ist für den Christen das Kreuz. Im persönlichen Leben ist es die Unruhe des Menschenherzens, die kein Fortschritt, keine politische und soziale Veränderung je stillen kann. Auf der Ebene der Geschichte ist es das Leiden der Armen…“

 

Und der „Nationalist“ Jünger formuliert in der Friedensschrift: „Der Mensch darf nie vergessen, dass die Bilder, die ihn jetzt schrecken, das Abbild seines Innern sind. Die Feuerwelt, die ausgebrannten Häuser und die Ruinenstädte, die Spuren der Zerstörung gleichen dem Aussatz, dessen Keime lang im Innern sich vermehrten, ehe er an die Oberfläche schlug. So hat es seit langem in den Köpfen und in den Herzen ausgesehen.“

 

Die Gleichsinnigkeit der hier angedeuteten Positionen ist nicht zu übersehen. Die tagespolitischen Bezeichnungen „rechts“ und „links“ haben in diesem Bereich jeden Sinn verloren.

 

Die Wiedereinführung des Elements der persönlichen Verantwortlichkeit in die Betrachtung historischer Ereignisse – das ist etwas sehr anderes als das immer geforderte „Schuldbekenntnis“! – ist hier offensichtlich.

 

So weit auseinander dabei auch die Ausgangspunkte der Erwähnten sind, eins ist offenbar: Die Abwendung von vorgefassten, dogmatischen Gedankengängen, die Unruhe der Herzen, führt keineswegs, wie die Fetischisten der Organisation stets den „Außenseitern“ vorwerfen, zur Verachtung des sozialen Lebens, sondern im Gegenteil: Die Vereinzelung brachte eine vertiefte, verantwortungsvolle Hinwendung zum brüderlichen Geist mit sich. Diese Front quer durch die alten ideologischen Aufspaltungen ist keine Angelegenheit der Organisation. Nicht einmal der Kontakte untereinander. Die Zusammengehörigkeit scheint teilweise dem Beobachter klarer zu sein als den Beteiligten. So erscheinen etwa Silone und Koestler, gelinde gesagt, ein wenig uninformiert über Jüngers Position zu sein, wenn der erste z.B. in einem Aufsatz über den Nihilismus sich darauf beschränkt, den von Jünger erhofften Menschentyp als einen lebendigen Robot zu zeichnen, dessen Freiheit darin bestände, sich in kommenden Kriegen und Bürgerkriegen mechanisch einzusetzen, oder der zweite lapidar ihm die von Gregor Strasser stammende Formulierung von der „antikapitalistischen Sehnsucht der Massen“ in den Mund legt.

 

Wenn wir von einer inneren Verwandtschaft dieser Autoren als Ausdruck einer die nationalen und Parteigrenzen sprengenden neuen Bruderschaft sprechen, so meinen wir weniger eine solche der Formulierungen und der gegenseitigen Zustimmung als eine solche der gleichen Haltung. Wir meinen die Hinwendung zu einer kompromisslosen Unbedingtheit im Geistigen und die Abwendung von einem gruppenmäßig bestimmten dogmatischen Fanatismus, einen Unterschied, den Friedrich Georg Jünger einmal sehr treffend dahin umschreibt; „Der Fanatismus verrät immer eine unvornehme Denkweise, einen pöbelhaften und zügellosen Instinkt, der sich selbst nicht mehr in der Gewalt hat. Er entwürdigt und beschmutzt den Menschen und zeigt wenig Männlichkeit, denn man ist nicht mehr Mann, wenn man den Kopf verliert. Die Unduldsamkeit aber ist gerade die Frucht einer urteilskräftigen Einsicht. In allen Dingen, auf die es ankommt, ist Toleranz nicht möglich, denn die Dinge gehen lassen, heißt sich selber gehen lassen.“ Wir meinen darüber hinaus die gemeinsame Bereitschaft, als Einzelner auszusprechen, was ist, auch auf die Gefahr hin, dafür selbst von den politischen Anrainern mit Steinen beworfen zu werden. Silones und Koestlers Aufhellungen der sozialistischen Realitäten haben ihnen die gleichen Vorwürfe des „das eigene Nest Beschmutzens“ eingebracht wie Jünger die der Dekadenz der westlichen Welt und des sich historisch überholenden Nationalstaatsgedankens. Bürger und Marxisten reagierten hier ähnlich. Und Jüngers sarkastische Bemerkung: „Nach dem Erdbeben schlägt man auf die Seismographen ein. Man kann jedoch die Barometer nicht für die Taifune büßen lassen, wenn man nicht zu den Primitiven zählen will“, trifft nicht nur auf die landesübliche Jüngerkritik, sondern auf fast alle Auseinandersetzungen zu, die den – verständlichen – Versuch machen, unbequeme Kommentatoren der Entzauberung von Aktion, Politik und Ideologie empört zur Ordnung zu rufen.

 

Sie gilt sogar, paradoxerweise, nicht nur da, wo hämische Verfälschung das ganze Gespräch immer wieder auf die Ebene der intellektuellen Denunziation führt und nach dem Richter für „Vorbereitung“ oder „Weiterführung“ des Nazismus ruft, sondern auch da, wo ein überdurchschnittlich gebildeter, aufgeschlossener Betrachter Jünger – und damit natürlich der ganzen Tendenz der neuen „Fragezeichen-Theologie“ – am Schlusse bescheinigt, dass, so reizvoll, anregend und aufschlussreich – bei aller Gegnerschaft im einzelnen – die frühere desillusionierende, rebellische, die Brüchigkeit der bürgerlichen Ordnung aufzeigende Position Jüngers war, die neue, die abendländisch-christliche Wertlehren wieder in die Selbstverständigung einführende Blickrichtung doch nur enttäuschend „banal“ und unfruchtbar sei. Louis Clair fasst sein Urteil über die „Wandlung“ dahingehend zusammen, dass trotz eines menschlich bewegenden, aber im Grunde doch nur moralisierenden Appells an die schöpferischen Kräfte des Einzelnen die Unterwerfung unter die eisernen Gesetze der technologischen Notwendigkeiten nur ersetzt worden sei durch die Unterwerfung unter religiöse Aspekte. Und das, steht zwischen den Zeilen, hat der moderne Mensch ja schließlich längst überwunden.

 

In Wirklichkeit hat weder Ernst Jünger noch irgendeiner der anderen heute überall auf neue Fragestellungen hinweisenden „Verräter am Geist“ das getan, was Louis Clair behauptet, nämlich noch einmal sich zu der Machtlosigkeit des Menschen bekannt, sein eigenes Schicksal zu gestalten und sich deshalb der Religion zugewandt. Das gerade Gegenteil ist der Fall.

 

Berechtigterweise warnt z.B. die „Rheinische Zeitung“ vor einer Kanonisierung der „abendländisch-christlichen Wendung“ Jüngers, soweit man sie etwa als eine neue kulturoptimistische Haltung verstehen möchte. Dazu ist Jünger denn doch zu weit in die Schächte des voraussetzungslosen Denkens eingedrungen. Heinz Weniger sagt: „Es besteht…sogar die Gefahr, dass Jünger dieser vorschnellen Wendung zu christlich-abendländischem Kulturoptimismus mit seiner weitverbreiteten Schrift über den ‚Frieden‘ Vorschub leistet. Er ist seiner Zeit immer um einige Nasenlängen voraus, aber eben gesinnungsmäßig, doch auch nicht mehr. Seine gestrige Kulturkritik zugunsten der Zivilisation als Schicksal lag seit Spengler in der Luft. Was nun seine neueste Wendung zum Christentum und zur Bejahung der abendländischen westlichen Kultur betrifft, die heute bereits jeder Spatz ohne Risiko bis zur Ermüdung von allen Dächern pfeift, so ist ihm zugute zu halten, dass er diese Wendung bereits vor 1945 vollzog, als sie noch originell und ein Wagnis war…Auf die Gefahr hin, dass damit manchem der soeben erhoffte Zugang zu Jüngers Denken verbaut wird, möchten wir aus unserer Kenntnis Jüngerschen Wesens vermuten, dass seine Wendung zum Christentum und zur abendländischen Kulturbejahung kaum im Sinne dieses Neu-Positivismus, der heute überall grassiert, gemeint ist. Das würde u.E. gar zu sehr gegen seine bisherige Denkentwicklung sprechen. Es würde sie gerade desavouieren. Es ist wohl der erfreulichste Zug von Jüngers geistigem Charakter, dass er niemals wie ein Fettauge im Strom der Zeit zu schwimmen pflegt. Auch scheint uns seine Wendung zum Christentum ganz und gar un-paulinisch und ohne geistiges Damaskus vor sich gegangen zu sein. Wir möchten sogar vermuten, dass er diese allgemein kulturoptimistische Wendung bereits längst hinter sich gelassen hat. Sollte es jedoch ein echtes Damaskus sein, so wird es genau so wenig im Zuge der Zeit schwimmen wie Kierkegaards ‚Bekehrung‘ damals…“

 

Eigenartigerweise hat sich der jungkonservative Preis um die Pechelsche „Deutsche Rundschau“ Jünger gegenüber stets recht kritisch verhalten. Pechel selbst hat in seinem Buch „Deutscher Widerstand“ Ernst Jünger ausdrücklich abgelehnt, während er F.G. Jünger lobend erwähnt. Auch kürzlich hat die „Deutsche Rundschau“ noch einmal „das Problem Ernst Jünger“ angefasst. Es heißt dort u.a. über den „Frieden“: „Wir halten diese Schrift für eine nicht unbedeutende Gefahr. Sie bietet eine verlockend einleuchtende Möglichkeit des Ausweichens. Die Unerbittlichkeit, mit der die historische Konsequenz und ihr Erleben, mit der unser Gewissen und die Fragwürdigkeit unseres Lebens uns heute zur Nachdenklichkeit zwingen wollen, wird durch ein derartiges Werk abgeschwächt. Das einzig Fruchtbare des großen Leidens unserer Tage ist die ständige Aufforderung zum Wesentlichen aus dem Zwang der Erinnerung und dem Stachel des Gewissens. Diese Nötigung ist die ganze Kostbarkeit unserer so erschütternd armen Existenz. Die Spannung, in die wir als Folge unseres Tuns gegen unseren Willen hineingeraten sind, findet nun in solchen Gedankengängen wie denen Jüngers ein Loch, durch das sie zu einer seichten Pfütze abfließen kann. Es ist ein trostvolles und ermutigendes Zeichen, dass der Instinkt für die Erbärmlichkeit und Sinnwidrigkeit solchen Ausweichens heute in Deutschland lebendig ist. Immerhin ist ja dieser Aufsatz nirgends gedruckt worden. Er würde auch sicher von der weitaus überwiegenden Zahl der Leser entschieden abgelehnt werden. Aber andererseits hat er seine Gemeinde, und schlechte Beispiele verderben bekanntlich gute Sitten.“

 

Hermann Rauschning hat seinerzeit in seinem klügsten und wichtigsten Buch eine ganze Reihe richtiger Dinge über die deutschen Generationen gesagt, für die Ernst Jünger zeitweise eine Art Sprecher wurde. Er sah sehr deutlich, dass zwischen dem in der NSDAP verkörperten Nationalsozialismus und der doktrinlosen Elite- und Arbeitsvorstellung der von Jünger beeinflussten nachdrängenden Schichten ein unüberbrückbarer Gegensatz bestand. Aber er machte in seiner Analyse einen wesentlichen Fehler, der ihn dazu führte, die nichtaktivistische, zeitkritische Seite der Jüngerschen Position völlig zu übersehen; er sah in ihm nur en Theoretiker der „zweiten Welle“ der deutschen nihilistischen Revolution, in seinen Freunden die Träger einer zweiten Revolution: „Beide, Jünger wie Niekisch, haben einen sehr beträchtlichen Wirkungskreis, der sich jedoch weniger zahlenmäßig als durch die Intensität ihrer Ausstrahlung erfassen ließ. Das Bedeutende ihrer Gedanken liegt darin, dass sie der vorweggenommene Ausdruck für reale Ordnungsvorgänge sind, die sich in der heraufkommenden zweiten Phase der neuen Revolution und nicht nur im Deutschen Reich immer stärker durchsetzt.“ Diese Prophezeiung hat sich als irrig erwiesen.

 

Die politischen Kräfte, die mit Jüngers Position verbunden schienen, sind seinerzeit in dem Prozess gegen Ernst Niekisch mühelos ausgeschaltet worden. Ihr Einfluss in der NSDAP selbst, insbesondere innerhalb der SS, die Rauschning in diesem Zusammenhang immer erwähnt, hat sich damals als nicht bestehend erwiesen. Was wichtiger ist, Ernst Jünger hat nach dem Machtantritt des Nationalsozialismus keine Zeile mehr geschrieben, um eine politische Gefolgschaft zu verstärken, sondern hat sich abseits gestellt; die Verbindungslinien, die von der Friedensschrift später zur Gruppe des 20. Juli liefen, sind, wie er selbst ausdrücklich hervorhebt, im Grundsätzlichen in bewusster Distanzierung angeknüpft worden.

 

Der Weg seiner letzten Bücher führt nicht zur zweiten nihilistischen Revolution, sondern zur Rückbesinnung auf die Substanz, zur Wiederentdeckung des Freiheitsbegriffes, zur „jungkonservativen“ Wiedergewinnung eines christlich-abendländischen Bewusstseins, zum Widerstand der Herzen, nicht zur Aktion. Auch nicht zur „sozialistischen“ Entscheidung. Den Weg des aus der Zuchthaushaft von den Russen befreiten Freundes Ernst Niekisch zur neuen ostwärts gerichteten Arbeiterbewegung geht er nicht mit. Allerdings haben selbst Freunde Jüngers jahrelang seine Position ähnlich wie Rauschning eingeschätzt, nur dass dabei das, was bei dem konservativen Rauschning seinerzeit als Bedrohung der westlichen Tradition, als gegnerisch gesehen wurde, dort als eine Art Verheißung erschien.

 

Im Jahre 1934 erschien in Deutschland eine kleine Jüngerbiographie von einem enthusiastischen Gefolgsmann Jüngers, dem inzwischen im Zweiten Weltkrieg gefallenen Wulf Dieter Müller. In diesem Büchlein, in dem weder das Wort Nationalsozialismus noch der Name Hitler ein einziges Mal erwähnt werden, wird zu Beginn des „Dritten Reiches“ die Position der antibürgerlichen und antiideologischen Revolutionierung Deutschlands so stark unterstrichen, so in Gegensatz gestellt zu unzulänglichen „musealen“ Kennworten wie „Blut und Boden“, dass der Gesamteindruck der gleiche ist, den Rauschning hat: Hinter Jünger formieren sich die kalt-sachlich und antiidealistisch eingestellten Jugendschichten zum Kampf um die Macht.

 

Inzwischen hat sich herausgestellt, dass sowohl der Danziger Senatspräsident wie der junge Nationalrevolutionär nicht nur die deutsche Realität, sondern auch die Persönlichkeit Jüngers missverstanden. Sie haben Analysen für Appelle, den Beobachterstand für einen Befehlsstand gehalten und Jüngers Versuch, die Welt zu erklären, mit der marxistischen Umkehrung, sie mit Hilfe von Organisationen zu verändern, verwechselt. Man hatte den Blick für sehr einfache Tatbestände verloren:

 

Das Zeitalter der Wehrpflicht, die Einführung der Massenheere, hat den Einzelnen seines göttlichen Rechts: der Freiwilligkeit, beraubt.

 

Das Zeitalter der Klassenkämpfe maß ihm nur den Wert bei, den er im Strom der vorwärtsdrängenden sozialen Kraft zum „allgemeinen Nutzen“ beisteuerte.

 

Die Periode des rassistischen Faschismus versuchte, ihn fatalistisch zu binden an ein Erbgesetz, das der Rasse.

 

Bereitschaft zum Werk, Liebe zur Heimat, Gehorsam zum Staat waren nicht mehr Ausfluss eines männlichen Ja als Antwort auf den Appell des sich aus Einzelnen zusammensetzenden nationalen Organismus. Sie waren vorherbestimmt durch soziale, konfessionelle und ethnologische Größen, die die Entscheidungen vorwegnahmen.

 

Heute gilt es, wieder Abstand zu einem derartigen Mythos der Gemeinschaft zu gewinnen. Nicht etwa, dass individualistische Ablehnung verpflichtender überpersönlicher Gebilde zum konservativen Denken gehörten. Im Gegenteil. Nur der konservative Mensch hat wirklich eine Beziehung zum überpersönlichen, doch auch jenseits der Gruppen stehenden Wir. Aber die Selbstverständlichkeit dieser Verwurzelung wurde durch den Einbruch liberalistischer Ideen mitten im Konservatismus zerstört. In dem Moment, in dem Männer wie Othmar Spann den scheinbar so „zeitgemäßen“ Versuch begannen, der marxistischen Klassentheorie die der „ständischen“ Aufgliederung entgegenzustellen, gab man das wirkliche unteilbare Element in der Ich-Wir-Beziehung preis. Hier wie im Marxismus schaltete sich eine – naturnotwendigerweise interessengebundene – Gruppe ein in die Beziehungen des Einzelnen zum jahrtausendealten Volks- und Kulturzusammenhang und entleerte ihn seiner eigentlichen Substanz.

 

Der Nationalsozialismus mit seiner These „Die Partei befiehlt dem Staat“ hat diese Ersetzung des echten Gemeinschaftsbegriffes Volk durch den partiellen Begriff der avantgardistischen Bewegung nur zu Ende geführt. Und er hat hier – ohne es zu wissen? – im Grunde gutes, altes, marxistisches Gedankengut in die Praxis umgesetzt.

 

Das alles wirft neue Fragen für die nachfaschistische Periode auf. Der junge Konservativismus – wenn es jemals ihn als eine geistige Realität wieder geben sollte  - muss entschlossen sein, ihnen zu begegnen. Er darf nicht nur Kritik an Liberalismus und Marxismus üben, sondern muss sich der Erkenntnis stellen, dass mitten im eigenen Lager die unlebendigen und eigensüchtigen Kräfte aus dem, was einst eine schlichte Lebensmacht war, aus deren Sicherheit Menschen aller Klassen in Deutschland lebten, eine zweckbetonte „realpolitische“ Ideologie gemacht haben, mit deren Hilfe daran interessierte Gruppen düstere Geschäfte machten.

 

Die Rückbesinnung auf die konservative Substanz, die die deutsche Bruderschaft der Fragenden fordert, benötigt mehr als die Zurückweisung überalterter liberalistischer Wunschträume: die Reinigung des eigenen Hauses. Der Hauptfeind eines neuen konservativen Bewusstseins ist das Kleben an alten Vorstellungen. Nur wenn eine wirkliche Scheidung von der „Reaktion“ erfolgt, kann das geschehen. Und das meint nicht nur kastengebundene politische Zirkel, die mit Junkertum, Industriellen und Bankiers die Vorstandssitze aller konservativen Gruppen übernahmen, sondern vor allem die Denkweise, die meist noch zynischer als Liberalismus und Marxismus die „Ideologie“ als „Überschau“ für recht reale Machtkämpfe benutzte.

 

Die konservative Substanz ist nur wiederzugewinnen, wenn man Ernst macht mit der Ausschaltung der Gruppe zwischen Ich und Wir. Nicht die Kirchen stehen zwischen Gott und dem Einzelnen; nicht der Stand oder die Klasse zwischen dem Individuum und seinem Volk. Wenn das geschieht, werden eine Reihe – nicht alle – der angedeuteten Probleme sich fast von selbst erledigen. Familie, Volk, Ehe, Religion, Tradition und Geschichtsbewusstsein und manches andere werden aus dieser neuen Standortbestimmung einen neuen Akzent bekommen. Möglicherweise vorerst nur in der Fragestellung, nicht in einer verbindlichen Antwort. Aber: es sich nicht zu leicht zu machen, sollte vielleicht der erste Vorsatz ein, den der Einzelne fasst, der auf die Suche nach der verlorengegangenen konservativen Substanz geht.

 

lundi, 26 septembre 2011

Guerra y Estado

Guerra y Estado

Por Sergio Prince C.

http://geviert.wordpress.com/

Schmitt comparte con Hegel algunos aspectos fundamentales de la teoría del Estado, los que resultan de suma importancia al momento de estudiar la relación de la guerra con lo político. En general, las convergencias se dan en torno a la ética del Estado y a la importancia que ambos asignan al ius publicum europaeum y se pueden apreciar entre  los siguientes documentos:

a] la conferencia dictada por Schmitt en 1929, titulada en alemán Staatsethik und pluralistischer Staat [El Estado ético y el Estado pluralista] (Schmitt, 1999) que dice relación con la importancia que ambos autores asignan a la ética en el Estado y las obras de Hegel «La Filosofía del derecho» (Hegel, 2009) y  «La Constitucion de Alemania» (Hegel, 1972),

b] la obra del mismo Schmitt «El nomos de la tierra» (Schmitt, 2002) , donde el autor lleva a cabo su proyecto de reconstrucción del orden juridico estatal e interestatal de la Europa Moderna y la ya citada« Filosofía del derecho» (Hegel, 2009).

En [a],  la Conferencia de 1929, encontramos al menos dos coincidencias:

[1] Schmitt coincide con Hegel en el carácter ético del Estado. Dice nuestro autor:

El acto propio del Estado consiste en determinar la situación concreta, en el seno de la cual sólo puede estar en vigor, en un plano general, normas morales y jurídicas. En efecto, toda norma presupone una situación normal. No hay norma en vigoren el vacío, en una situación a – normal [con respecto a la norma]. Si el Estado «pone las condiciones exteriores de la vida ética», esto quiere decir que crea la situación normal (Kervégan, 2007, pág. 157).

En otras palabras, ambos autores estiman que el Estado es el requisito fundamental para que exista la vida ética a nivel jurídico – político y a nivel particular: la familia y la sociedad civil. Si bien es cierto que hay que buscar la raíces del Estado en estas instituciones, las dos son histórica y empíricamente posteriores a él, pues sólo la existencia del Estado permite que se diferencien  dos entidades éticas sin causar la disolución de la unidad política.

 

[2] Otra coincidencia entre el filósofo y el jurista  es que este último, haciendo uso del lenguaje hegeliano, se refiere al Estado  como “el divino terrestre”, el “Reino de la razón objetiva y la eticidad”, “la unidad monista del universum” y “los problemas que conciernen al Espíritu Objetivo”. Por otra parte, Schmitt cita de modo casi idéntico ciertas fórmulas de «La Constitución de Alemania» (Hegel, 1972) donde el filósofo de Jena opone al desorden político del Imperio alemán un Estado fuerte. Para Schmitt, la situación alemana al finalizar la República de Weimar es idéntica a la vivida por Hegel con el derrumbe del Sacro Imperio Romano Germano (Kervégan, 2007).

En [b],  «El Nomos de la Tierra», encontramos al menos una coincidencia:

[1] Schmitt reconoce a la FD como un monumento grandioso, como la expresión conceptual más elaborada de la forma – Estado y del derecho interestatal propio de este período de la historia. Este Estado ha actuado, al menos en el suelo europeo, como el portador del progreso en el sentido de una creciente racionalización y acotación de la guerra. Comenta Kervégan que, en el fondo, se trata de reconocer al Estado moderno “el mérito absoluto de haber asegurado la paz exterior e interior, gracias al monopolio que conquistó sobre el espacio político” (Schmitt, 2002, págs. 136-137) (Kervégan, 2007, págs. 159-160).

En resumen, hasta aquí, las coincidencias entre Schmitt y Hegel son 1] que ambos piensan en el Estado como una entidad fundamentalmente ética, 2] que ambos viven épocas similares, tiempos de desorden político que los hace pensar que la era del Estado y de la europäische Staatlichkeit [legislación europea] habían llegado a su fin y 3] ambos reconocen al Estado haber aportado a la paz. Para nuestro análisis, esto indica que, si la guerra es fundamento de lo político-jurídico, entonces es la guerra la creadora de la entidad ética fundamental, en el seno de la cual se configuran la familia y la sociedad civil como espacios éticos primordiales para la ordenación de la paz. Revisemos estas conclusiones provisorias.

Para Schmitt (Schmitt, 2006, pág. 64), la guerra es el horizonte de lo político, “es el presupuesto que está siempre dado como posibilidad real, que determina de una manera peculiar la acción y el pensamiento humanos, originando así una conducta específicamente política”. Por su parte, para Hegel la guerra es:

[1] La determinación del Estado que, por medio de la fuerza, acalla las divisiones e intereses particulares.

[2] Un medio que permite al Estado develarse y desempeñar de modo óptimo su función.

[2.1] La configuración que permite el predominio del Estado sobre la sociedad, la particularidad y la diversidad.

[2.2] La ordenación que une las esferas particulares en la unidad del Estado.

[2.3] La representación que afirma la naturaleza del Estado y del patriotismo exigiendo y obteniendo del individuo el sacrificio de lo que, en tiempos de paz, parecía constituir la esencia misma de su existencia: la familia, su propiedad, sus opiniones, su vida.

 

Escribe Hegel en FD §324: “Se hace un cálculo  muy equivocado cuando, en la exigencia de este sacrificio, el Estado es considerado sólo como Sociedad Civil, y como su fin último es solamente tenida en cuenta la garantía de la vida y la propiedad de los individuos; puesto que esa garantía no se obtiene con el sacrificio de lo que debe ser garantido, sino al contrario.”. “De este modo, aunque la guerra trae consigo la inseguridad de la propiedad y de la existencia, es una inseguridad saludable, conectada con la vida y el movimiento. La inseguridad y la muerte son desde luego necesarias, pero en el Estado se vuelven morales al ser libremente escogidas” (Hegel, 2009, pág. 264) (Hassner, 2006):

“La guerra […], constituye el momento en el cual la idealidad de lo particular alcanza su derecho y se convierte en realidad; ella consigue su más elevado sentido en que, por su intermedio, como ya lo he explicado en otro lugar “la salud ética de los pueblos se mantiene en su equilibrio frente al fortalecimiento de las determinaciones finitas del mismo modo que el viento preserva al mar de la putrefacción, a la cual la reduciría una durable  o más aún,  perpetua quietud.”

Ahora bien, toda esta vitalidad ética, este dinamismo que manifiesta la guerra no se reduce a la positividad de la igualdad consigo misma sino que se realiza, se objetiva en la enemistad, ante la presencia del enemigo. Esto como resultado de la soberanía que aparece, en primer lugar, como una relación de exclusión frente al otro, al extraño. La soberanía, la independencia es un ser para sí excluyente. Veamos brevemente cuál es la tesis de Carl Schmitt  sobre la enemistad. Primero, definamos antítesis  amigo-enemigo y, luego, revisemos algunas características de esta.

[1] La antítesis amigo-enemigo es una categoría conceptual, concreta y existencial de lo político. Sin enemigos no hay guerra, no hay política, no hay Estado, no hay Derecho. En palabras de Kervégan, para Schmitt “el enemigo es una determinación especulativa, la figura exteriorizada de la negatividad constitutiva de la identidad consigo positiva de la vida ética.” Así, la soberanía del Estado aparece como una relación de exclusión frente a otros Estados (Kervégan, 2007, pág. 161).

A la antítesis amigo-enemigo se pueden asignar muchas características pero, siguiendo a Herrero López, destaco tres de las más relevantes para mi investigación:

[1] El Enemigo «es el otro público», es otro extranjero, algo distinto y extraño con  quien se puede llegar a pelear una guerra. ¿Qué significa este otro? Resumiendo a Schmitt, responde Herrero López: Enemigo  es más que el sujeto individual, se refiere a la totalidad de los hombres que luchan por su vida. El enemigo privado es aquel que sólo me afecta “a mí”. Por el contrario, el otro público es el que afecta a toda la comunidad, al pueblo en su conjunto y sólo al final me molesta personalmente.

[2] El enemigo es hostis no inimicus. Esta es la distinción que introduce Schmitt para señalar el matiz enunciado supra [1]. Para hacerla, se funda en Platón, en los evangelios de Mateo (5, 44) y Lucas (6,27) y en el diccionario de latín Forcellini Lexicon totius Latinitatis. Platón, llama guerra sólo a aquella que se lucha entre helenos y bárbaros, entre griegos y extranjeros. Por su parte, los evangelios dicen “diligite inimicos vestros” pero no dicen “diligite hostis vestros”, lo que indica a Schmitt que existe una clara distinción entre inimicus y hostis. Como ejemplo, cita la lucha entre el cristianismo y el Islam diciendo que no se puede entregar Europa por amor a los sarracenos y que sólo en el ámbito individual tiene sentido el amor al enemigo. No se puede amar a quien amenaza destruir al propio pueblo, por lo tanto, en opinión de Schmitt, la sentencia bíblica no afecta al enemigo político. Ahora bien, consultando el diccionario Forcellini, Schmitt se encuentra con la definición de hostis que versa como sigue: “Hostis  is est cum quo publice Bellum habemus […] in quo ab inimico differt, qui est is, quoqum habemus privata odia.Dstingui etiam sic possunt in inimicus sit qui nos odit: hostis qui oppungat” (Herrero López, 1997).

[3] El hostis supone una enemistad pública y existencial que incluye la posibilidad extrema de su aniquilación física, de su muerte. Al concepto de enemigo y residiendo en el ámbito de lo real, corresponde la eventualidad de un combate. La guerra es el combate armado entre unidades políticas organizadas; la guerra civil es el combate armado en el interior de una unidad. Lo esencial en el concepto de “arma” es que se trata de un medio para provocar la muerte física de seres humanos. Al igual que la palabra “enemigo”, la palabra “combate” debe ser entendida aquí en su originalidad primitiva esencial. Los conceptos de amigo, enemigo y combate reciben su sentido concreto por el hecho de que se relacionan, especialmente, con la posibilidad real de la muerte física y mantienen esa relación. La guerra proviene de la enemistad puesto que ésta es la negación esencial de otro ser. La guerra es solamente la enemistad hecha real del modo más manifiesto. No tiene por qué ser algo cotidiano, algo normal; ni tampoco tiene por qué ser percibido como algo ideal o deseable. Pero debe estar presente como posibilidad real si el concepto de enemigo ha de tener significado (Schmitt, 2006).

Ya hemos dicho que Schmitt y Hegel piensan en el Estado como una entidad fundamentalmente ética creada por la guerra. Aún más, la guerra es el atributo que afirma la naturaleza del Estado exigiendo y obteniendo del individuo el sacrificio de lo que en tiempos de paz parecía constituir la esencia misma de su vida En otros términos el Estado, como espacio ético, requiere del valor militar para su consolidación y su defensa, lo que implica el enfrentar a un enemigo que tiene la intención y la posibilidad real de causarle la muerte.

Guerra, ética y  Estado

Más allá de las circunstancias y los acontecimientos que provocan la guerra, esta sobrelleva una necesidad que le confiere una grandeza ética. Dice Kervégan que la guerra hace accidental y material lo que es en sí y para sí accidental y material: la vida, la libertad, la propiedad, aquello que en la paz tiene mayor valía a los ojos de los individuos-ciudadanos. La guerra es la penosa advertencia de la verdad cardinal de la ética hegeliana del Estado: la supervivencia de éste es la condición de existencia toda otra disposición ética. La guerra hace insubstancial la frivolidad y la trivialidad. La guerra, por todos los sacrificios que impone, ilustra la sumisión positiva, racional, práctica y reflexiva de lo finito a lo infinito, de lo contingente a lo necesario, de lo particular a lo universal (Kervégan, 2007).

Asimismo, “porque el sacrificio por la individualidad del Estado consiste en la relación sustancial de todos y es, por lo tanto, un deber general, al mismo tiempo como un aspecto de la idealidad, frente a la realidad de la existencia particular y le es consagrada una clase propia: el valor militar. Ahora bien, para que llege a existir esta clase, para que existan ejércitos permanentes, se deben argumentar – las razones, las consideraciones de las ventajas y las desventajas, los aspectos exteriores e interiores como los gastos con sus consecuencias, los mayores impuestos-,  muy respetuosamente ante la conciencia de la Sociedad Civil.  (Hegel, 2009, págs. 265-266) (§ 325-326).

Es clara la relación entre valor militar y sociedad civil. Son un devenir dialéctico de la configuración y la reconfiguración permanente del Estado ante el espectro de la guerra presente en su horizonte. Pero ¿qué es el valor militar, cuáles son sus contenidos? Escribe Hegel que el valor militar es  por sí “una virtud formal, porque es la más elevada abstracción de la libertad de todos los fines, bienes, satisfacciones y vida particulares; pero esa negación existe en un modo extrínsecamente real y su manifestación como cumplimiento no es en sí misma de naturaleza espiritual: es interna disposición de ánimo, éste o aquel motivo; su resultado real no puede ser para sí, sino únicamente para los demás (Hegel, 2009, pág. 266) (§ 327). En otros términos, podemos decir que las principales características del valor militar son, al menos, cuatro. A saber, carácter axiológico, moralista, contingente y filantrópico:

[1] Carácter axiológico: Una virtud formal.

[2] Carácter moralista: Es la más elevada abstracción de la libertad

[3] Carácter contingente: No es de naturaleza espiritual

[4] Carácter filantrópico: Su resultado es para los demás

Siguiendo esta línea argumentativa, Hegel dirá que el contenido del valor militar, como disposición de ánimo, se encuentra en la Soberanía., es decir, por medio de la acción y la entrega voluntaria de la realidad personal la Soberanía es obra del fin último del valor militar. Este encierra el rigor de las cuatro grandes antítesis:

[1]  entrega – libertad. La entrega misma pero como existencia  de la libertad.

[2]  independencia – servicio. La independencia máxima del ser por sí cuya existencia es realidad, a la vez en el mecanismo de su orden exterior y del servicio

[3]  obediencia – decisión. La obediencia y el abandono total de la opinión y del razonamiento particular, por lo tanto, la ausencia de un espíritu propio; la presencia instantánea, bastante intensa y comprensiva del espíritu y de la decisión,

[4]  hostilidad – bondad. El obrar más hostil y personal contra los individuos, en la disposición plenamente indiferente, más bien buena, hacia ellos en cuanto individuos.

Comenta Hegel que arriesgar la vida es algo más que sólo temer la muerte pero, por esto mismo, arriesgar la vida es mera negación y no tiene ni determinación ni valor por sí. Sólo lo positivo, el fin y el contenido de este acto proporciona a este al valor militar ya que ladrones y homicidas también arriesgan la vida con su propio fin delictuoso, lo que es un acto de coraje pero carece de sentido. Ahora bien, el valor militar ha llegado a serlo en su sentido más abstracto ya que el uso de armas de fuego, de la artillería no permite que se manifieste el valor individual, sino que permite la demostración del valor por parte de una totalidad (Hegel, 2009).

El Estado, como espacio ético, requiere del valor militar para su consolidación y su defensa, lo que implica enfrentar a un enemigo que tiene la intención y la posibilidad real de causarle la muerte. Pero arriesgar la vida es un acto valioso dependiendo del objetivo así como la definición y las características del valor militar nos muestran que este existe en una tensión dialéctica ante el horizonte siempre actualizable de la guerra que viven la familia, la Sociedad Civil y el Estado. En otros términos, el valor militar sólo cobra sentido en la objetivación del todo jurídico-político, en su relación dialéctica con la Sociedad Civil. No es una virtud fuera de esta.

Conclusión

La unidad de pensamientos entre algunos escritos de Hegel y el pensamiento de Schmitt nos da señales de una unidad intelectual entre los dos filósofos tudescos, la que nos permitió realizar nuestro estudio del Valor Militar utilizando a Schmitt como un apoyo interpretativo de lo dicho por Hegel en la Filosofía del Derecho. Ambos dan señales claras de entender una relación clara entre guerra, política y Estado. Aún más, para estos autores, la guerra es el atributo que afirma la naturaleza del Estado exigiendo y obteniendo del individuo el sacrificio de lo que en tiempos de paz parecía constituir la esencia misma de su vida. En otros términos, el Estado, como espacio ético, requiere del valor militar para su consolidación y su defensa, lo que implica enfrentar a un enemigo que tiene la intención y la posibilidad real de causarle la muerte.

El Estado, como espacio ético, requiere del valor militar para su consolidación y su defensa, lo que involucra necesariamente enfrentar a un enemigo que tiene la intención y la posibilidad real de causarle la muerte, pero arriesgar la vida es un acto valioso dependiendo del objetivo así como la definición y las características del valor militar nos muestran que este existe en una tensión dialéctica ante el horizonte siempre actualizable de la guerra que viven la familia, la Sociedad Civil y el Estado.

Como ya hemos dicho, el valor militar sólo cobra sentido en la objetivación del todo jurídico-político, en su relación dialéctica con la Sociedad Civil. No es una virtud fuera de esta. Se sigue que el valor militar es una virtud abstracta propia del estamento militar, de las Fuerzas Armadas que tienen a cargo la Defensa del Estado. Se trata de una determinación propia de un cuerpo de profesionales que se manifiesta sólo en circunstancias extraordinarias, cuando está en peligro la existencia misma del Estado. La valentía militar es necesaria pero no es de naturaleza espiritual. Sin embargo, se caracteriza por lo que podríamos llamar altas virtudes espirituales en los ámbitos axiológico, moral, contingente y filantrópico.

Finalmente, son dignas de destacar las antítesis que componen la naturaleza del valor militar. Estas podrían llamarse con toda libertad, virtudes del soldado: la entrega, el servicio, la obediencia y la bondad. Todo en una tensión dialéctica que requiere de la inteligencia para poder equilibrarlas dentro de sus opuestos y así cumplir con su objetivo: defender la Soberanía de Chile.

Trabajos Citados

Hassner, P. (2006). George W. F. Hegel [1770-1831]. En L. Strauss, & J. Cropsey, Historia de la filosofía política (págs. 689-715). México: Fondo de Cutura Económica.

Hegel, G. (2009). Filosofía del derecho (1 ed., Vol. 1). (Á. Mendoza de Montero, Trad.) Buenos Aires, Argentina: Claridad.

Hegel, G. (1972). La Constitución de Alemania (1ª ed., Vol. 1). (D. Negro Pavon, Trad.) Madrid, España: Aguilar S.A.

Herrero López, M. (1997). ElNnomos y lo político: La filosofía Política de Carl Schmitt. Navarra: EUNSA.

Kervégan, J. F. (2007). Hegel, carl Schmitt. Lo político entre especulación y posotividad. Madrid: Escolar y Mayo.

Schmitt, C. (2006). El concepto de lo político. Madrid: Alianza Editorial.

Schmitt, C. (2002). El nomos de la tierra en el Derecho de Gentes del Ius Publicum Europaeum (1 ed., Vol. 1). (J. L. Moreneo Pérez, Ed., & D. S. Thou, Trad.) Granada, España: Editorial Comares S.L.

Schmitt, C. (1999). Ethic of State and Pluratistic State. En C. Mouffe, & C. Mouffe (Ed.), The Challenge of Carl Schmitt (Inglesa ed., Vol. 1, págs. 195 – 208). Londres, Inglaterra: Verso.

samedi, 13 août 2011

Towards a New World Order: Carl Schmitt's "The LandAppropriation of a New World"

 

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Towards a New World Order: Carl Schmitt's "The Land Appropriation of a New World"

Gary Ulmen

Ex: http://freespeechproject.com/

 

The end of the Cold War and of the bipolar division of the world has posed again the question of a viable international law grounded in a new world order. This question was already urgent before WWI, given the decline of the ius publicum Europaeum at the end of the 19th century. It resurfaced again after WWII with the defeat of the Third Reich. If the 20th century is defined politically as the period beginning with the "Great War" in 1914 and ending with the collapse of the Soviet empire in 1989, it may be seen as a long interval during which the question of a new world order was suspended primarily because of the confrontation and resulting stalemate between Wilsonianism and Leninism. Far from defining that period, as claimed by the last defenders of Left ideology now reconstituted as "anti-fascism," and despite their devastating impact at the time, within such a context fascism and Nazism end up automatically redimensioned primarily as epiphenomenal reactions of no lasting historical significance. In retrospect, they appear more and more as violent geopolitical answers to Wilsonianism's (and, to a lesser extent, Leninism's) failure to establish a new world order.

Both the League of Nations and the United Nations have sought to reconstitute international law and the nomos of the earth, but neither succeeded. What has passed for international law throughout the 20th century has been largely a transitory semblance rather than a true system of universally accepted rules governing international behavior. The geopolitical paralysis resulting from the unresolved conflict between the two superpowers created a balance of terror that provided the functional equivalent of a stable world order. But this state of affairs merely postponed coming to terms with the consequences of the collapse of the ius publicum Europaeum and the need to constitute a new world order. What is most significant about the end of the Cold War is not so much that it brought about a premature closure of the 20th century or a return to the geopolitical predicament obtaining before WWI, but that it has signaled the end of the modern age--evident in the eclipse of the nation state, the search for new political forms, the explosion of new types of conflicts, and radical changes in the nature of war. Given this state of affairs, today it may be easier to develop a new world order than at any time since the end of the last century.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Ernest Nys wrote that the discovery of the New World was historically unprecedented since it not only added an immense area to what Europeans thought the world was but unified the whole globe.(n1) It also resulted in the European equilibrium of land and sea that made possible the ius publicum Europaeum and a viable world order. In his "Introduction" to The Nomos of the Earth, Carl Schmitt observes that another event of this kind, such as the discovery of some new inhabitable planet able to trigger the creation of a new world order, is highly unlikely, which is why thinking "must once again be directed to the elemental orders of concrete terrestrial existence."(n2) Despite all the spatial exploration and the popular obsession with extra-terrestrial life, today there is no event in sight comparable to the discovery of a New World. Moreover, the end of the Cold War has paved the way for the further expansion of capitalism, economic globalization, and massive advances in communication technologies. Yet the imagination of those most concerned with these developments has failed so far to find any new alternatives to the prevailing thinking of the past decades.



Beyond the Cold War


The two most prominent recent attempts to prefigure a new world order adequate to contemporary political realities have been made by Francis Fukuyama and Samuel P. Huntington.(n3) Fukuyama thinks the West has not only won the Cold War but also brought about the end of history, while Huntington retreats to a kind of "bunker mentality" in view of an alleged decline of the West.(n4) While the one suffers from excessive optimism and the other from excessive pessimism, both fail primarily because they do not deal with the "elemental orders of concrete terrestrial existence" and troth remain trapped in an updated version of Wilsonianism assuming liberal democracy to be the highest achievement of Western culture. While Fukuyama wants to universalize liberal democracy in the global marketplace, If Huntington identifies liberalism with Western civilization. But Huntington is somewhat more realistic than Fukuyama. He not only acknowledges the impossibility of universalizing liberalism but exposes its particularistic nature. Thus he opts for a defense of Western civilization within an international helium omnium contra omnes. In the process, however, he invents an "American national identity" and extrapolates from the decline of liberal democracy to the decline of the West.

Fukuyama's thesis is derived from Alexandre Kojeve's Heideggerian reading of Hegel and supports the dubious notion that the last stage in human history will be a universal and homogeneous state of affairs satisfying all human needs. This prospect is predicated on the arbitrary assumption of the primacy of thymos--the desire for recognition--which both Kojeve and Fukuyama regard as the most fundamental human longing. Ultimately, according to Fukuyama, "Kojeve's claim that we are at the end of history . . . stands or falls on the strength of the assertion that the recognition provided by the contemporary liberal democratic state adequately satisfies the human desire for recognition."(n5) Fukuyama's own claim thus stands or falls on his assumption that at the end of history "there are no serious ideological competitors to liberal democracy."(n6) This conclusion is based on a whole series of highly dubious ideological assumptions, such as that "the logic of modern natural science would seem to dictate a universal evolution in the direction of capitalism"(n7) and that the desire for recognition "is the missing link between liberal economics and liberal politics."(n8)

According to Fukuyama, the 20th century has turned everyone into "historical pessimists."(n9) To reverse this state of affairs, he challenges "the pessimistic view of international relations . . . that goes variously under the titles 'realism,' realpolitik, or 'power politics'."(n10) He is apparently unaware of the difference between a pessimistic view of human nature, on which political realism is based, and a pessimistic view of international relations, never held by political realists such as Niccolo Machiavelli or Hans Morgenthau--two thinkers Fukuyama "analyzes" in order to "understand the impact of spreading democracy on international politics." As a "prescriptive doctrine," he finds the realist perspective on international relations still relevant. As a "descriptive model," however, it leaves much to be desired because: "There was no 'objective' national interest that provided a common thread to the behavior of states in different times and places, but a plurality of national interests defined by the principle of legitimacy in play and the individuals who interpreted it." This betrays a misunderstanding of political realism or, more plausibly, a deliberate attempt to misrepresent it in order to appear original. Although he draws different and even antithetical conclusions, Fukuyama's claim is not inconsistent with political realism.(n11)

Following this ploy, Fukuyama reiterates his main argument that: "Peace will arise instead out of the specific nature of democratic legitimacy, and its ability to satisfy the human longings for recognition."(n12) He is apparently unaware of the distinction between legality and legitimacy, and of the tendency within liberal democracies for legality to become its own mode of legitimation.(n13) Even in countries in which legality remains determined independently by a democratic legislative body, there is no reason to believe it will be concerned primarily or at all with satisfying any "human longing for recognition"; rather, it will pursue whatever goals the predominant culture deems desirable. Consequently, it does not necessarily follow that, were democratic legitimacy to become universalized with the end of the Cold War, international conflict would also end and history along with it. Even Fukuyama admits that: "For the foreseeable future, the world will be divided between a post-historical part, and a part that is still stuck in history. Within the post-historical part, the chief axis of interaction between states would be economic, and the old rules of power politics would have decreasing relevance."(n14)

This is nothing more than the reconfiguration of a standard liberal argument in a new metaphysical guise: the old historical world determined by politics will be displaced by the new post-historical world determined by economics. Schmitt rejected this argument in the 1920s: according to liberals, the "concept of the state should be determined by political means, the concept of society (in essence nonpolitical) by economic means," but this distinction is prejudiced by the liberal aversion to politics understood as a domain of domination and corruption resulting in the privileging of economics understood as "reciprocity of production and consumption, therefore mutuality, equality, justice, and freedom, and finally, nothing less than the spiritual union of fellowship, brotherhood, and justice."(n15) In effect, Fukuyama is simply recycling traditional liberal efforts to eliminate the political(n16)--a maneuver essential for his thesis of the arrival of "the end of history" with the end of the Cold War. Accordingly: "The United States and other liberal democracies will have to come to grips with the fact that, with the collapse of the communist world, the world in which they live is less and less the old one of geopolitics, and that the rules and methods of the historical world are not appropriate to life in the post-historical one. For the latter, the major issues will be economic."(n17) Responding to Walter Rathenau's claim in the 1920s that the destiny then was not politics but economics, Schmitt said "what has occurred is that economics has become political and thereby the destiny."(n18)

For Fukuyama, the old historical world is none other than the European world: "Imperialism and war were historically the product of aristocratic societies. If liberal democracy abolished the class distinction between masters and slaves by making the slaves their own masters, then it too should eventually abolish imperialism."(n19) This inference is based on a faulty analogy between social and international relations. Not surprisingly, Fukuyama really believes that "international law is merely domestic law writ large."(n20) Compounded with an uncritical belief in the theory of progress and teleological history, this leads him to generalize his own and Kojeve's questionable interpretation of the master-slave dialectic (understood as the logic of all social relations) to include international relations: "If the advent of the universal and homogeneous state means the establishment of rational recognition on the level of individuals living within one society, and the abolition of the relationship of lordship and bondage between them, then the spread of that type of state throughout the international system of states should imply the end of relationships of lordship and bondage between nations as well--i.e., the end of imperialism, and with it, a decrease in the likelihood of wars based on imperialism."(n21) Even if a "universal and homogeneous state" were possible today, in an age when all nation-states are becoming ethnically, racially, linguistically and culturally heterogeneous, it is unclear why domestic and international relations should be isomorphic. Rather, the opposite may very well be the case: increasing domestic heterogeneity is matched by an increasingly heterogeneous international scene where "the other" is not regarded as an equal but as "a paper tiger," "the Great Satan," "religious fanatics," etc.

At any rate, imperialism for Fukuyama is not a particular historical phenomenon which came about because of the discovery of the New World at the beginning of the age of exploration by the European powers. Rather, it is seen as the result of some metaphysical ahistorical "struggle for recognition among states."(n22) It "arises directly out of the aristocratic master's desire to be recognized as superior--his megalothymia."(n23) Ergo: "The persistence of imperialism and war after the great bourgeois revolutions of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is therefore due not only to the survival of an atavistic warrior ethos, but also to the fact that the master's megalothymia was incompletely sublimated into economic activity."(n24) Thus the formal market relation between buyer and seller, both reduced to the level of the hyper-rational and calculating homo oeconomicus, comes to displace the master-slave dialectic whereby, miraculously, the interaction between these economic abstractions generates as much recognition as anyone would want, rendering conflict obsolete and putting an end to history.

In terms of Fukuyama's own formulation, the real end of history, as he understands it, is not even close. In his scenario, since there are still a lot of unresolved conflicts between the historical and the post-historical worlds, there will be a whole series of "world order" problems and "many post-historical countries will formulate an abstract interest in preventing the spread of certain technologies to the historical world, on the grounds that world will be most prone to conflict and violence."(n25) Although the failure of the League of Nations and the UN has led to the general discrediting of "Kantian internationalism and international law," in the final analysis, despite his Heideggerian Hegelianism, Fukuyama does not find the answer to the end of history in Hegel, Nietzsche or even Kojeve,(n26) but rather in Kant, who argued that the gains realized when man moved from the state of nature to civilization were largely nullified by wars between nations. According to Fukuyama, what has not been understood is that "the actual incarnations of the Kantian idea have been seriously flawed from the start by not following Kant's own precepts," by which he means that states based on republican principles are less likely than despotisms to accept the costs of war and that an international federation is only viable if it is based on liberal principles.

Although Huntington has a much better grasp of international relations than Fukuyama, his decline of the West scenario is equally unconvincing. The central theme of his book is that "culture and cultural identities, which at the broadest level are civilization identities, are shaping the patterns of cohesion, disintegration, and conflict in the post-Cold War world."(n27) But whereas Fukuyama couches his thesis in terms of a universal desire for recognition, Huntington couches his thesis in terms of a global search for identity: "Peoples and nations are attempting to answer the most basic question humans can face: Who are we?"(n28) The result is a "multipolar and multi-civilizational" world within which the West should abandon its presumed universalism and defend its own particular identity: "In the clash of civilizations, Europe and America will hang together or hang separately. In the greater clash, the global 'real clash,' between Civilization and barbarism, the worlds great civilizations . . . will also hang together or hang separately. In the emerging era, clashes of civilizations are the greatest threat to world peace, and an international order based on civilizations is the surest safeguard against world war."(n29)

In Huntington's new world, "societies sharing civilizational affinities cooperate with each other."(n30) Leaving aside his cavalier blurring of the differences between cultures, civilizations and societies, what does Huntington regard as the essence of Western particularism? Here he is ambiguous: he first mentions Christianity, then some secular residues of Christianity, but when he adds up the civilizational core of the West it turns out to be none other than liberalism. As Stephen Holmes points out, it is "the same old ideology, plucked inexplicably from the waste-bin of history that once united the West against Soviet Communism."(n31) But Huntington also claims that the West had a distinct identity long before it was modern (since he insists that modernization is distinct from Westernization, so that non-Western societies can modernize without Westernizing, thus retaining their civilizational distinctiveness). In this case, however, the West cannot really be identified with liberalism, nor can its heritage be equated sic et nunc with "American national identity." While liberalism may very well be declining, this need not translate into a decline of the West as such. Similarly, if "American national identity" is threatened by "multiculturalism,"(n32) it need not signal the arrival of barbarians at the gates but may only mark another stage in the statist involution of liberalism. Huntington's fears of a decline of the West at a time when it is actually at the acme of its power and vigor is the result of the unwarranted identification of Western civilization with liberalism and what he understands by "American national identity." Today liberalism has degenerated into an opportunistic statist program of "a small but influential number of intellectuals and publicists," and "American national identity" into a fiction invented as part of a failed project after the War between the States to reconfigure the American federation into a nation-state.(n33)

According to Huntington? the assumption of the universality of Western culture is: false, because others civilizations have other ideals and norms; immoral, because "imperialism is the logical result of universalism"; and dangerous, because it could lead to major civilizational wars.(n34) His equation of universalism and imperialism, however, misses the point of both it misunderstands the philosophical foundations of Western culture and the historical roots of Western imperialism. Other civilizations do have their own ideals and norms, but only Western civilization has an outlook broad enough to embrace all other cultures, which explains why it can readily sponsor and accommodate even confused and counterproductive projects such as "multiculturalism." Of course, Europeans set forth on their journeys of discovery and conquest not only in order to bring Christianity and "civilization" to the world but also to plunder whatever riches they could find. But whatever the reasons, Europeans were the ones who opened the world to global consciousness and what Schmitt called "awakened occidental rationalism."

Until recently, largely because of American cultural hegemony and technological supremacy, the goal of the rest of the world has been "Westernization," which has come to be regarded as synonymous with modernization. In Huntington's "realist" view, however: "A universal civilization requires universal power. Roman power created a near universal civilization within the limited confines of the Classical world. Western power in the form of European colonialism in the nineteenth century and American hegemony in the twentieth century extended Western culture throughout much of the contemporary world. European colonialism is over; American hegemony is receding."(n35) The real question is whether continued American world hegemony is primarily a function of the persistence of colonialism. Despite his emphasis on culture and civilization, Huntington does not appreciate the importance of cultural hegemony.? Had he not restricted the Western tradition to late 20th century liberalism, he may have appreciated the extent to which the rest of the world is becoming increasingly more, rather than less dependent on the US--in communication technologies, financial matters and even aesthetic forms. Today the Internet is potentially a more formidable agency of cultural domination and control than was the British Navy at the peak of the Empire. Here McNeill is right: Huntington's gloomy perception of the decline of the West may merely mistake growing pains for death throes.

If Huntington's salon Spenglerianism were not bad enough, he also adopts a kind of simplistic Schmittianism (without ever mentioning Schmitt). Complementing his "birds of a feather flock together" concept of civilizations --with "core states" assuming a dominant position in relation to "fault line" states--he pictures an "us versus them" type of friend/enemy relations based on ethnic and religious identities. But Schmitt's friend/enemy antithesis is concerned with relations between political groups: first and foremost, states. Accordingly, any organized group that can distinguish between friends and enemies in an existential sense becomes thereby political. Unlike Huntington (or Kojeve, who also explicitly drew geopolitical lines primarily along religious lines(n36), Schmitt did not think in terms of ethnic or religious categories but rather territorial and geopolitical concepts. For Schmitt, the state was the greatest achievement of Western civilization because, as the main agency of secularization, it ended the religious civil wars of the Middle Ages by limiting war to a conflict between states.(n37) In view of the decline of the state, Schmitt analyzed political realities and provided a prognosis of possible future territorial aggregations and new types of political forms.

Huntington finds the "realist" school of international affairs "a highly useful starting point," but then proceeds to criticize a straw man version of it, according to which "all states perceive their interests in the same way and act in the same way." Against it, not only power but also "values, culture, and institutions pervasively influence how states define their interests.... In the post-Cold War world, states increasingly define their interests in civilizational terms."(n38) Had Huntington paid more careful attention to hans Morgenthau, George Kennan or other reputable political realists, he would have concluded that their concept of power is not as limited as his caricature of it. In particular, had he read Schmitt more closely he would not have claimed that nation-states "are and will remain the most important actors in world affairs"(n39)--at a time when economic globalization has severely eroded their former sovereignty and they are practically everywhere threatened with internal disintegration and new geopolitical organizations. At any rate, political realism has been concerned primarily with the behavior of states because they were the main subjects of political life for the past three centuries.(n40) If and when they are displaced by other political forms, political realism then shifts its focus accordingly.

Huntington attempts to think beyond the Cold War. But since he cannot think beyond the nation-state, he cannot conceive of new political forms. When he writes that cultural commonality "legitimates the leadership and order-imposing role of the core state for both member states and for the external powers and institutions,"(n41) he seems to have in mind something akin to the concept of GroBraum.(n42) But Schmitt's model was the American Monroe Doctrine excluding European meddling in the Western Hemisphere. At that time (and well into the 20th century), the US was not a nation-state in the European sense, although it assumed some of these trappings thereafter. Thus it generally followed George Washington's policy--because of the "detached and distant situation" of the US, it should avoid entangling alliances with foreign (primarily European) powers. The Monroe Doctrine simply expanded on the reality and advantages of this situation. Schmitt rightly saw the global line of the Western Hemisphere drawn by the Monroe Doctrine as the first major challenge to the international law of the ius publicum Europaeum.

Given the current understanding of national sovereignty, it is difficult to see what Huntington means by "core state." Despite the title of his book, he has no concept of international law or of world order. Not only does he abandon hope for global regulations governing the behavior of states and civilizations, but he reverts to a kind of anthropological primitivism: "Civilizations are the ultimate human tribes, and the clash of civilizations is tribal conflict on a global scale."(n43) All he can suggest for avoiding major inter-civilizational wars is the "abstention rule" (core states abstain from conflicts in other civilizations), and the "mediation rule" (core states negotiate with each other to halt fault line wars).(n44) Huntington's vision is thus surprisingly conformist--it merely cautions the US from becoming embroiled in the Realpolitik of countries belonging to other civilizational blocs while defending a contrived liberal notion of"Western" civilization.

Anti-Colonialism and Appropriation
The anti-colonialism of both Fukuyama and Huntington is consistent with the predominant 20th century ideology directed primarily against Europe. Anti-colonialism is more historically significant than either anti-fascism and anti-communism. As Schmitt pointed out in 1962: "Both in theory and practice, anti-colonialism has an ideological objective. Above all, it is propaganda--more specifically, anti-European propaganda. Most of the history of propaganda consists of propaganda campaigns which, unfortunately, began as internal European squabbles. First there was France's and England's anti-Spanish propaganda--the leyenda negra of the 15th and 16th centuries. Then this propaganda became generalized during the 18th century. Finally, in the historical view of Arnold Toynbee, a UN consultant, the whole of Europe is indicted as a world aggressor."(n45) Thus it is not surprising that the 500th anniversary of the "discovery" of America was greeted with more condemnation than celebration.(n46)

Anti-colonialism is primarily anti-European propaganda because it unduly castigates the European powers for having sponsored colonialism.(n47) Given that there was no international law forbidding the appropriation of the newly discovered lands--in fact, European international and ecclesiastical law made it legal and established rules for doing so--the moral and legal basis for this judgment is unclear. On closer analysis, however, it turns out to be none other than the West's own universalistic pretenses. Only by ontologizing their particular Western humanist morality--various versions of secularized Christianity--as universally valid for all times and all places can Western intellectuals indict colonialism after the fact as an international "crime." Worse yet, this indictment eventually turns into a wholesale condemnation of Western culture (branded as "Eurocentrism") from an abstract, deterritorialized and deracinated humanist perspective hypostatized to the level of a universally binding absolute morality. Thus the original impulse to vindicate the particularity and otherness of the victims of colonialism turns full circle by subsuming all within a foreign Western frame-work, thereby obliterating the otherness of the original victims. The ideology of anti-colonialism is thus not only anti-European propaganda but an invention of Europeans themselves, although it has been appropriated wholesale and politically customized by the rest of the world.

As for world order, this propaganda has even more fundamental roots: "The odium of colonialism, which today confronts all Europeans, is the odium of appropriation,"(n48) since now everything understood as nomos is allegedly concerned only with distribution and production, even though appropriation remains one of its fundamental, if not the most fundamental, attributes. As Schmitt notes: "World history is a history of progress in the means and methods of appropriation: from land appropriations of nomadic and agricultural-feudal times, to sea appropriations of the 16th and 17th centuries, to the industrial appropriations of the industrial-technical age and its distinction between developed and undeveloped areas, to the present day appropriations of air and space."(n49) More to the point, however, is that "until now, things have somehow been appropriated, distributed and produced. Prior to every legal, economic and social order, prior to every legal, economic or social theory, there is the simple question: Where and how was it appropriated? Where and how was it divided? Where and how was it produced ? But the sequence of these processes is the major problem. It has often changed in accordance with how appropriation, distribution and production are emphasized and evaluated practically and morally in human consciousness. The sequence and evaluation follow changes in historical situations and general world history, methods of production and manufacture--even the image human beings have of themselves, of their world and of their historical situation."(n50) Thus the odium of appropriation exemplified by the rise of anti-colonialism is symptomatic of a changed world situation and changed attitudes. But this state of affairs should not prevent our understanding of what occurred in the past or what is occurring in the present.

In order to dispel the "fog of this anti-European ideology," Schmitt recalls that "everything that can be called international law has for centuries been European international law. . . [and that] all the classical concepts of existing international law are those of European international law, the ius publicum Europaeum. In particular, these are the concepts of war and peace. as well as two fundamental conceptual distinctions: first, the distinction between war and peace, i.e., the exclusion of an in-between situation of neither war nor peace so characteristic of the Cold War; and second, the conceptual distinction between enemy and criminal, i.e. exclusion of the discrimination and criminalization of the opponent so characteristic of revolutionary war--a war closely tied to the Cold War."(n51) But Schmitt was more concerned with the "spatial" aspect of the phenomenon: "What remains of the classical ideas of international law has its roots in a purely Eurocentric spatial order. Anti-colonialism is a phenomenon related to its destruction.... Aside from ... the criminalization of European nations, it has not generated one single idea about a new order. Still rooted, if only negatively, in a spatial idea, it cannot positively propose even the beginning of a new spatial order."(n52)

Having discovered the world as a globe, Europeans also developed the Law of Nations. Hugo Grotius is usually credited with establishing this new discipline with his De lure belli ac pacts (Paris: 1625), since he was the first to deal with the subject as a whole (although various European scholars had dealt at length with themes such as the justice of war, the right of plunder, the treatment of captives, etc.). Nys writes: ". . . from the I 1th to the 1 2th century the genius of Europe developed an association of republics, principalities and kingdoms, which was the beginning of the society of nations. Undoubtedly, some elements of it had been borrowed from Greek and Roman antiquity, from Byzantine institutions, from the Arabo-Berber sultanates on the coast of Africa and from the Moorish kingdoms of Spain. But at the time new sentiments developed, longing for political liberty. The members of this association were united by religious bonds; they had the same faith; they were not widely separated by speech and, at any rate, they had access to Latin, the language of the Church; they admitted a certain equality or at least none of them claimed the right to dominate and rule over the others. A formula came into use to describe this state of affairs: respublica a Christiana, res Christina."(n53)

Steeped in Roman law, 1 3th and 1 4th century jurists opposed any "Law of Nations" recognizing political distinctions between different peoples. In the Roman system, different peoples were only "parts of the Roman Empire." Thus, in a wider sense, ius gentium extended to all civilized peoples and included both public and private law. In a narrower sense, however, it also dealt with the rules governing relations between Romans and foreigners. Understood in this narrower sense, ius gentium promoted the constitution of distinct peoples and consequently kingdoms, intercourse and conflicts between different political communities, and ultimately wars. For this reason, those who still believed in the viability of the Holy Roman Empire thought that this interpretation of ius gentium led to disintegration. This is why the Law of Nations--European public law and international law--did not become a distinct "science" until the Middle Ages.

Spanish theologians first articulated the theoretical and practical problems of ius gentium understood as the Law of Nations. Chief among them was Francisco de Vitoria, whose Relectiones theologicae on the Indians and the right of a "just war" have become classics.(n54) In his lectures, Vitoria invokes the Law of Nations--the ius gentium. At the beginning of the third section of his account of the Spaniards' relations with the aborigines in the New World, he treats them as one people among others, and therefore subject to ius gentium: "The Spaniards have a right to travel into the lands in question and to sojourn there, provided they do no harm to the natives, and the natives may not prevent them. Proof of this may in the first place be derived from the law of nations (ius gentium), which either is natural law or is derived from natural law."(n55) That he understands peoples in the sense of "nations" becomes even more clear when he speaks about gentes nationes. He distinguishes between the political community--the respublica--and the private individual. The latter may defend his person and his property, but he may not avenge wrongs or retake goods after the passage of time. This is the respublica's prerogative--it alone has authority to defend itself and its members. Here Vitoria identifies the prince's authority with that of the state: "The prince is the issue of the election made by the respublica.... The state, properly so called, is a perfect community, that is to say, a community which forms a whole in itself, which, in other words, is not a part of another community, but which possesses its own laws, its own council, its own magistrates."(n56)

Clearly, what developed in Europe from antiquity to the respublica Christiana, from the origin of the sovereign state and ius publicum Europaeum to the Enlightenment and beyond, was as unique and significant as the discovery of the "New World." Yet, given today's predominant ideology, European culture has almost become the truth that dare not speak its name. Not only is Columbus demonized, but the whole Age of Discovery and all of European (Western) culture is dismissed as "imperialistic," "racist?" "sexist," etc. The Nomos of the Earth is a much needed antidote to this anti-European propaganda, which is only a symptom of the crisis of European identity and consciousness.(n57) All the major themes of Schmitt's book are either implicit or explicit in "The Land Appropriation of a New World": the origin and significance of the European and Eurocentric epoch of world history; the discovery of the New World and the American challenge to the European order; the search for a new nomos of the earth; the critique of the discriminatory concept of war; the critique of universalism and the danger of total relativism.

The Conquest of America and the Concept of a "Just War"


In the 20th century, the ideology of anti-colonialism was articulated most prominently by Woodrow Wilson and Vladimir Lenin, signaling the end of European domination in world history. Now, after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of communism, some American intellectuals have turned this anti-European propaganda against the US, seemingly unaware that their critique is possible only within the orbit of the European culture they otherwise castigate and dismiss. To attack European culture is tantamount to attacking American culture as well, since the latter is but a special case of the former, which is precisely why it has been able to accept and absorb peoples and influences not only from the Western hemisphere but from all over the world. American universalism is but an extension of that same Christian universalism which for centuries has defined European identity. As Schmitt emphasized, the European equilibrium of the ius publicum Europaeum presupposed a seemingly homogeneous Christian Europe, which lasted well into the 19th century. The American project has always been a fundamentally heterogeneous undertaking and Americans have always come from the most diverse ethnic, racial, religious and linguistic backgrounds. But if there had not been some homogeneous culture to unity this diversity, there would have been no distinct American culture which, unfortunately, today many educated Europeans and Americans no longer understand and therefore have come to despise.

A paradigmatic example of this general anti-European syndrome is Tzvetan Todorov's The Conquest of America. In an effort to vindicate the particularity of "the other," the author ends up castigating West European culture as a whole by deploying a secularized version of Christian universalism. Openly acknowledging the moralistic objectives and "mythological" character of his account,(n58) Todorov develops a "politically correct" postmodern interpretation of the Spanish conquista not to understand its historical significance but to show how it has shaped today's Western imperialist identity--one allegedly still unable to come to terms with "the other" and therefore inherently racist, ethnocentric, etc. The book closes with a discussion of "Las Casas' Prophesy" concerning the wrath that "God will vent" not only upon Spain but all of Western Europe because of its "impious, criminal and ignominious deeds perpetrated so unjustly, tyrannically and barbarously."(n59)

Todorov overlooks not only the generally religious framework of Las Casas' prophesy, but also the idiosyncratically Western concept of justice the Dominican bishop deployed. Having ontologized a humanism derived from the Western axiological patrimony, he does not realize the extent to which his postmodernism has already reduced "the other" to "the same," precisely in his effort to vindicate its particularity.(n60) Worse yet, inhibited by his "politically correct" moralism, he not only provides a ridiculous, if academically fashionable, explanation for the Spaniards' success,(n61) but he manages to subvert his own arguments with the very evidence he adduces to support them. He claims that the "present" is more important to him than the past, but in defining genocide he makes no reference whatsoever to either the Armenians or the Holocaust as reference points. Consequently, his claim that "the sixteenth century perpetuated the greatest genocide in human history"(n62) remains not only unsubstantiated but falsified. By his own account, most of the victims died of diseases and other indirect causes: "The Spaniards did not undertake a direct extermination of these millions of Indians, nor could they have done so." The main causes were three, and "the Spaniards responsibility is inversely proportional to the number of victims deriving from each of them: 1. By direct murder, during wars or outside them: a high number, nonetheless relatively small; direct responsibility. 2. By consequence of bad treatment: a high number; a (barely) less direct responsibility. 3. By diseases, by `microbe shock': the majority of the population; an indirect and diffused responsibility."(n63)

Todorov does acknowledge that Columbus was motivated by the "universal victory of Christianity" and that it was Columbus' medieval mentality that led him "to discover America and inaugurate the modern era."(n64) His greatest infraction, however, was that he conquered land rather than people, i.e., he was more interested in nature than in the Indians, which he is treated as "the other", "Columbus summary perception of the Indians [is] a mixture of authoritarianism and condescension . . . In Columus' hermeneutics human beings have no particular place."(n65) Had Todorov set aside his abstract moralizing, he may have realized that the conquest of the New World was primarily a land appropriation. It is not surprising, therefore, that the conquerors thought they were bringing "civilization" to those they conquered--something probably also true of the Mongols who invaded and colonized China, Russia and a few other which, by contrast, had higher than thier own.

The ideological slant of The Conquest of America is by no means unusual. Long before, Schmitt noted that non-European peoples who have undertaken conquest, land appropriations, etc. were not being tarred with the same brush as Europeans.(n66) Unlike Todorov's moralistic tirade, The Nomos of the Earth is dressed to historians and jurists. In no ways does Schmitt excuse the atrocities committed by the Spanish, but rather explains how they were possible in the given circumstances. "The Land Appropriation of a New World" begins with a discussion of the lines drawn by the European powers to divide the world. In this connection, Schmitt discusses the meaning of "beyond the line," which meant beyondn the reach of European law: " At this`line' Europe ended and `New World' began. At any rate, European law -- `European public law' -- ended. Consequently, so did the bracketing of war achieved by the former European international law, meaning the struggle for land appropriations knew no bounds. Beyond the line was an `overseas' zone in which, for want of any legal limits to war, only, the law of the stronger applied."n(67) For Todorov, it is a much simpler explanation: "Far from central government, far from royal law, all prohibitions give way, the social link, already loosened, snaps, revealing not a primitive nature, the beast sleeping in each of us, but a modern being? one with a great future in fact, restrained by no morality and inflicting death because and when he pleases."(n68) The Spaniards are simply racist, ethno-centric, ruthless exploiters, etc., i.e., modern -- they already exhibited traits Todorov claims are characteristic of Western identity.

Of particular interest here are Todorov's comments on Vitoria and the concept of a "just war," since most of Schmitt's chapter is devoted to these subjects. By his own admission, Todorov mixes (in fact, confuses) medieval and modern categories. This is particularly true in the case of Vitoria. Todorov observes that: "Vitoria demolishes the contemporary justifications of the wars waged in America, but nonetheless conceives that `just wars' are possible."(n69) More to the point: "We are accustomed to seeing Vitoria as a defender of the Indians; but if we question, not the subject's intentions, hut the impact of his discourses, it is clear that . . . under the cover of an international law based on reciprocity, he in reality supplies a legal basis to the wars of colonization which had hitherto had none (none which, in any case, might withstand serious consideration)."(n70) But there was no "international law based on reciprocity." Here Todorov is simply transposing modern categories to medieval matters for his own ideological purposes.

Unlike Todorov, Schmitt places the problem in perspective: "For 400 years, from the 16th to the 20th century, the structure of European international law was determined by a fundamental course of events the conquest of the New World. Then, as later, there were numerous positions taken with respect to the justice or injustice of the conquista. Nevertheless, the fundamental problem the justification of European land appropriations as a whole -- was seldom addressed in any systematic way outside moral and legal questions. In fact, only one monograph deals with this problem systematically and confronts it squarely in terms of international law.... It is the famous relectiones of Francisco de Vitoria."(n71) Vitoria rejected the contrary opinions of other theologians and treated Christians and non-Christians alike. He did not even accept discovery, which was the recognized basis of legal title from the 1 6th to the 1 8th century, as legitimate. More to the point, he considered global lines beyond which the distinction between justice and injustice was suspended not only a sin but an appalling crime. However: "Vitoria's view of the conquista was ultimately altogether positive. Most significant for him was the fait accompli of Christianization. . . . The positive conclusion is reached only by means of general concepts and with the aid of objective arguments in support of a just war.... If barbarians opposed the right of free passage and free missions, of liberum commercium and free propaganda, then they would violate the existing rights of the Spanish according to ius gentium; if the peaceful treaties of the Spanish were of no avail, then they had grounds for a just war."(n72)

The papal missionary mandate was the legal foundation of the conquista. This was not only the pope's position but also that of the Catholic rulers of Spain. Vitoria's arguments were entirely consistent with the spatial order and the international law of the respublica Christiana. One cannot apply modern categories to a medieval context without distorting both: "In the Middle Ages, a just war could he a just war of aggression. Clearly, the formal structure of the two concepts of justice are completely different. As far as the substance of medieval justice is concerned, however, it should be remembered that Vitoria's doctrine of a just war is argued on the basis of a missionary mandate issued by a potestas spiritualis that was not only institutionally stable but intellectually self-evident. The right of liberum commercium as well as the ius peregrinandi are to facilitate the work of Christian missions and the execution of the papal missionary mandate.... Here we are interested only in the justification of land appropriation--a question Vitoria reduced to the general problem of a just war. All significant questions of an order based on international law ultimately meet in the concept of a just war."(n73)

 

 

The Question of a New Nomos of the Earth


Following chapters on "The Land Appropriation of a New World" and "The Ius Publicum Europaeum," Schmitt concludes his book with a chapter titled "The Question of a New Nomos of the Earth, which is concerned primarily with the transformation of the concept of war. Clearly, this problem was uppermost in Schmitt's mind following Germany's total defeat in WWII and the final destruction of the European system of states. But he had already devoted a treatise to the development of a discriminatory concept of war following WWI,(n74) and in 1945 he wrote a legal opinion on the criminality of aggressive war.(n75) Despite whatever self-serving motives he may have had in writing these works,(n76) they are consistent with the historical and juridical structure of international law during the respublica Christiana, the ius publicum Europaeum, and what remains of international law today.

This progression can be put into perspective by following Schmitt's discussion of Vitoria's legacy: "Vitoria was in no sense one of the `forerunners of modern lawyers dealing with constitutional questions.'. . . Abstracted entirely from spatial viewpoints, Vitoria's ahistorical method generalizes many European historical concepts specific to the ius gentium of the Middle Ages (such as yolk prince and war) and thereby strips them of their historical particularity."(n77) In this context, Schmitt mentions the works of Ernest Nys, which paved the way for the popularization of Vitoria's ideas after WWI but who, because of his belief in humanitarian progress, also contributed to the criminalization of aggressive war. This was also true of James Brown Scott, the leading American expert on international law, who blatantly instrumentalized Vitoria's doctrines concerning free trade (liberum commercium, the freedom of propaganda, and a just war) to justify American economic imperialism. Schmitt sums up Sctott's argument as follows: "War should cease to be simply a legally recognized matter or only one of legal indifference; rather, it should again become a just war in which the aggressor as such is declared a felon in the full criminal sense of the word. The former right to neutrality, grounded in the international law of the ius publicum Europaeum and based on the equivalence of just and unjust war, should also and accordingly be eliminated."(n78)

Here then is the crux of the matter. Vitoria's thinking is based on the international law obtaining during the Christian Middle Ages rather than on the international law between states established with the ius publicum Europaeum. Moreover, as Schmitt points out, Vitoria was not a jurist but a theologian: "Based on relations between states, post-medieval international law from the 1 6th to the 20th century sought to repress the iusta causa. The formal reference point for the determination of a just war was no longer the authority of the Church in international law but rather the equal sovereignty of states. Instead of iusta causa, the order of international law between states was based on iustus hostis; any war between states, between equal sovereigns, was legitimate. On the basis of this juridical formalization, a rationalization and humanization--a bracketing--of war was achieved for 200 years." The turn to "the modern age in the history of international law was accomplished by a dual division of two lines of thought that were inseparable in the Middle Ages -- the definitive separation of moral-theological from juridical-political arguments and the equally important separation of the question of iusta causa, grounded in moral arguments and natural law," from the juridical question of iustus hostis, distinguished from the criminal, i.e., from object of punitive action."(n79)

With the end of the ius publicum Europaeum, the concept of war changed once again: moralistic (rather than theologically-based) arguments became confused with political arguments, and the iusta causa displaced the just enemy (iustus hostis). Accordingly, war became a crime and the aggressor a criminal, which means that the current distinction between just and unjust war lacks any relation to Vitoria and does not even attempt to determine the iusta causa.(n80) According to Schmitt: "If today some formulas of the doctrine of a just war rooted in the concrete order of the medieval respublica Christiana are utilized in modern and global formulas, this does not signify a return to, but rather a fundamental transformation of concepts of enemy, war, concrete order and justice presupposed in medieval doctrine."(n81) This transformation is crucial to any consideration of a new nomos of the earth because these concepts must be rooted in a concrete order. Lacking such an order or nomos, these free-floating concepts do not constitute institutional standards but have only the value of ideological slogans.

Unimpressed with the duration of the Cold War and its mixture of neither war nor peace, Schmitt speculated on the possibility of the eventual development of what he called GroBetaraume(n82) -- larger spatial entities, similar to but not synonymous with federations or blocs --displacing states and constituting a new nomos.(n83) Since his death in 1985 and the subsequent collapse of communism, the likelihood of his diagnosis and prognosis has increased. While the international situation remains confused and leading intellectuals such as Fukuyama and Huntington, unable to think behind predominant liberal democratic categories, can only recycle new versions of the old Wilsonianism, Schmitt's vision of a world of GroBetaraume as a new geopolitical configuration may well be in the process of being realized.

vendredi, 12 août 2011

Carl Schmitt's Decisionism

Carl Schmitt's Decisionism

Paul Hirst

Ex: http://freespeechproject.com/

 

politik.gifSince 1945 Western nations have witnessed a dramatic reduction in the variety of positions in political theory and jurisprudence. Political argument has been virtually reduced to contests within liberal-democratic theory. Even radicals now take representative democracy as their unquestioned point of departure. There are, of course, some benefits following from this restriction of political debate. Fascist, Nazi and Stalinist political ideologies are now beyond the pale. But the hegemony of liberal-democratic political agreement tends to obscure the fact that we are thinking in terms which were already obsolete at the end of the nineteenth century.

Nazism and Stalinism frightened Western politicians into a strict adherence to liberal democracy. Political discussion remains excessively rigid, even though the liberal-democratic view of politics is grossly at odds with our political condition. Conservative theorists like Hayek try to re-create idealized political conditions of the mid nineteenth century. In so doing, they lend themselves to some of the most unsavoury interests of the late twentieth century - those determined to exploit the present undemocratic political condition. Social-democratic theorists also avoid the central question of how to ensure public accountability of big government. Many radicals see liberal democracy as a means to reform, rather than as what needs to be reformed. They attempt to extend governmental action, without devising new means of controlling governmental agencies. New Right thinkers have reinforced the situation by pitting classical liberalism against democracy, individual rights against an interventionist state. There are no challenges to representative democracy, only attempts to restrict its functions. The democratic state continues to be seen as a sovereign public power able to assure public peace.

The terms of debate have not always been so restricted. In the first three decades of this century, liberal-democratic theory and the notion of popular sovereignty through representative government were widely challenged by many groups. Much of this challenge, of course, was demagogic rhetoric presented on behalf of absurd doctrines of social reorganization. The anti-liberal criticism of Sorel, Maurras or Mussolini may be occassionally intriguing, but their alternatives are poisonous and fortunately, no longer have a place in contemporary political discussion. The same can be said of much of the ultra-leftist and communist political theory of this period.

Other arguments are dismissed only at a cost. The one I will consider here - Carl Schmitt's 'decisionism' - challenges the liberal-democratic theory of sovereignty in a way that throws considerable light on contemporary political conditions. His political theory before the Nazi seizure of power shared some assumptions with fascist political doctrine and he did attempt to become the 'crown jurist' of the new Nazi state. Nevertheless, Schmitt's work asks hard questions and points to aspects of political life too uncomfortable to ignore. Because his thinking about concrete political situations is not governed by any dogmatic political alternative, it exhibits a peculiar objectivity.

Schmitt's situational judgement stems from his view of politics or, more correctly, from his view of the political as 'friend-enemy' relations, which explains how he could change suddenly from contempt for Hitler to endorsing Nazism. If it is nihilistic to lack substantial ethical standards beyond politics, then Schmitt is a nihilist. In this, however, he is in the company of many modern political thinkers. What led him to collaborate with the Nazis from March 1933 to December 1936 was not, however, ethical nihilism, but above all concern with order. Along with many German conservatives, Schmitt saw the choice as either Hitler or chaos. As it turned out, he saved his life but lost his reputation. He lived in disrepute in the later years of the Third Reich, and died in ignominy in the Federal Republic. But political thought should not be evaluated on the basis of the authors' personal political judgements. Thus the value of Schmitt's work is not diminished by the choices he made.

Schmitt's main targets are the liberal-constitutional theory of the state and the parliamentarist conception of politics. In the former, the state is subordinated to law; it becomes the executor of purposes determined by a representative legislative assembly. In the latter, politics is dominated by 'discussion,' by the free deliberation of representatives in the assembly. Schmitt considers nineteenth-century liberal democracy anti-political and rendered impotent by a rule-bound legalism, a rationalistic concept of political debate, and the desire that individual citizens enjoy a legally guaranteed 'private' sphere protected from the state. The political is none of these things. Its essence is struggle.

In The Concept of the Political Schmitt argues that the differentia specifica of the political, which separates it from other spheres of life, such as religion or economics, is friend-enemy relations. The political comes into being when groups are placed in a relation of emnity, where each comes to perceive the other as an irreconcilable adversary to be fought and, if possible, defeated. Such relations exhibit an existential logic which overrides the motives which may have brought groups to this point. Each group now faces an opponent, and must take account of that fact: 'Every religious, moral, economic, ethical, or other antithesis transforms itself into a political one if it is sufficiently strong to group human beings effectively according to friends and enemy.' The political consists not in war or armed conflict as such, but precisely in the relation of emnity: not competition but confrontation. It is bound by no law: it is prior to no law.

For Schmitt: 'The concept of the state presupposes the concept of the political.' States arise as a means of continuing, organizing and channeling political struggle. It is political struggle which gives rise to political order. Any entity involved in friend-enemy relations is by definition political, whatever its origin or the origin of the differences leading to emnity: 'A religious community which wages wars against members of others religious communities or engages in other wars is already more than a religious community; it is a political entity.' The political condition arises from the struggle of groups; internal order is imposed to pursue external conflict. To view the state as the settled and orderly administration of a territory, concerned with the organization of its affairs according to law, is to see only the stabilized results of conflict. It is also to ignore the fact that the state stands in a relation of emnity to other states, that it holds its territory by means of armed force and that, on this basis of a monopoly of force, it can make claims to be the lawful government of that territory. The peaceful, legalistic, liberal bourgeoisie is sitting on a volcano and ignoring the fact. Their world depends on a relative stabilization of conflict within the state, and on the state's ability to keep at bay other potentially hostile states.

For Hobbes, the political state arises from a contract to submit to a sovereign who will put an end to the war of all against all which must otherwise prevail in a state of nature - an exchange of obediance for protection. Schmitt starts where Hobbes leaves off - with the natural condition between organized and competing groups or states. No amount of discussion, compromise or exhortation can settle issues between enemies. There can be no genuine agreement, because in the end there is nothing to agree about. Dominated as it is by the friend-enemy alternative, the political requires not discussion but decision. No amount of reflection can change an issue which is so existentially primitive that it precludes it. Speeches and motions in assemblies should not be contraposed to blood and iron but with the moral force of the decision, because vacillating parliamentarians can also cause considerable bloodshed.

In Schmitt's view, parliamentarism and liberalism existed in a particular historical epoch between the 'absolute' state of the seventeenth century and the 'total state' of the twentieth century. Parliamentary discussion and a liberal 'private sphere' presupposed the depoliticization of a large area of social, economic and cultural life. The state provided a legally codified order within which social customs, economic competition, religious beliefs, and so on, could be pursued without becoming 'political.' 'Politics' as such ceases to be exclusively the atter of the state when 'state and society penetrate each other.' The modern 'total state' breaks down the depoliticization on which such a narrow view of politics could rest:

 

Heretofore ostensibly neutral domains - religion, culture, education, the economy - then cease to be neutral. . . Against such neutralizations and depoliticizations of important domains appears the total state, which potentially embraces every domain. This results in the identity of the state and society. In such a state. . . everything is at least potentially political, and in referring to the state it is no longer possible to assert for it a specifically political characteristic.

 



Democracy and liberalism are fundamentally antagonistic. Democracy does away with the depoliticizations characteristic of rule by a narrow bourgeois stratum insulated from popular demands. Mass politics means a broadening of the agenda to include the affairs of all society - everything is potentially political. Mass politics also threatens existing forms of legal order. The politicization of all domains increases pressure on the state by multiplying the competing interests demanding action; at the same time, the function of the liberal legal framework - the regulating of the 'private sphere' - become inadequate. Once all social affairs become political, the existing constitutional framework threatens the social order: politics becomes a contest of organized parties seeking to prevail rather than to acheive reconciliation. The result is a state bound by law to allow every party an 'equal chance' for power: a weak state threatened with dissolution.

Schmitt may be an authoritarian conservative. But his diagnosis of the defects of parliamentarism and liberalism is an objective analysis rather than a mere restatement of value preferences. His concept of 'sovereignty' is challenging because it forces us to think very carefully about the conjuring trick which is 'law.' Liberalism tries to make the state subject to law. Laws are lawful if properly enacted according to set procedures; hence the 'rule of law.' In much liberal-democratic constitutional doctrine the legislature is held to be 'sovereign': it derives its law-making power from the will of the people expressed through their 'representatives.' Liberalism relies on a constituting political moment in order that the 'sovereignty' implied in democratic legislatures be unable to modify at will not only specific laws but also law-making processes. It is therefore threatened by a condition of politics which converts the 'rule of law' into a merely formal doctrine. If this 'rule of law' is simply the people's will expressed through their representatives, then it has no determinate content and the state is no longer substantially bound by law in its actions.

Classical liberalism implies a highly conservative version of the rule of law and a sovereignty limited by a constitutive political act beyond the reach of normal politics. Democracy threatens the parliamentary-constitutional regime with a boundless sovereign power claimed in the name of the 'people.' This reveals that all legal orders have an 'outside'; they rest on a political condition which is prior to and not bound by the law. A constitution can survive only if the constituting political act is upheld by some political power. The 'people' exist only in the claims of that tiny minority (their 'representatives') which functions as a 'majority' in the legislative assembly. 'Sovereignty' is thus not a matter of formal constitutional doctrine or essentially hypocritical references to the 'people'; it is a matter of determining which particular agency has the capacity - outside of law - to impose an order which, because it is political, can become legal.

Schmitt's analysis cuts through three hundred years of political theory and public law doctrine to define sovereignty in a way that renders irrelevant the endless debates about principles of political organization or the formal constitutional powers of different bodies.

 

From a practical or theoretical perspective, it really does not matter whether an abstract scheme advanced to define sovereignty (namely, that sovereignty is the highest power, not a derived power) is acceptable. About an abstract concept there will be no argument. . . What is argued about is the concrete application, and that means who decides in a situation of conflict what constitutes the public interest or interest of the state, public safety and order, le salut public, and so on. The exception, which is not codified in the existing legal order, can at best be characterized as a case of extreme peril, a danger to the existence of the state, or the like, but it cannot be circumscribed factually and made to conform to a preformed law.

 



Brutally put: ' Sovereign is he who decides on the exception.' The sovereign is a definite agency capable of making a decision, not a legitimating category (the 'people') or a purely formal definition (plentitude of power, etc.). Sovereignty is outside the law, since the actions of the sovereign in the state of exception cannot be bound by laws since laws presuppose a normal situation. To claim that this is anti-legal is to ignore the fact that all laws have an outside, that they exist because of a substantiated claim on the part of some agency to be the dominant source of binding rules within a territory. The sovereign determines the possibility of the 'rule of law' by deciding on the exception: 'For a legal order to make sense, a normal situation must exist, and he is sovereign who definitely decides whether this normal situation actually exists.'

Schmitt's concept of the exception is neither nihilistic nor anarchistic, it is concerned with the preservation of the state and the defence of legitimately constituted government and the stable institutions of society. He argues that ' the exception is different from anarchy and chaos.' It is an attempt to restore order in a political sense. While the state of exception can know no norms, the actions of the sovereign within the state must be governed by what is prudent to restore order. Barbaric excess and pure arbitrary power are not Schmitt's objecty. power is limited by a prudent concern for the social order; in the exception, 'order in the juristic sense still prevails, even if it is not of the ordinary kind.' Schmitt may be a relativist with regard to ultimate values in politics. But he is certainly a conservative concerned with defending a political framework in which the 'concrete orders' of society can be preserved, which distinguishes his thinking from both fascism and Nazism in their subordination of all social institutions to such idealized entities as the Leader and the People. For Schmitt, the exception is never the rule, as it is with fascism and Nazism. If he persists in demonstrating how law depends on politics, the norm on the exception, stability on struggle, he points up the contrary illusions of fascism and Nazism. In fact, Schmitt's work can be used as a critique of both. The ruthless logic in his analsysis of the political, the nature of soveriegnty, and the exception demonstrates the irrationality of fascism and Nazism. The exception cannot be made the rule in the 'total state' without reducing society to such a disorder through the political actions of the mass party that the very survival of the state is threatened. The Nazi state sought war as the highest goal in politics, but conducted its affairs in such a chaotic way that its war-making capacity was undermined and its war aims became fatally overextended. Schmitt's friend-enemy thesis is concerned with avoiding the danger that the logic of the political will reach its conclusion in unlimited war.

Schmitt modernizes the absolutist doctrines of Bodin and Hobbes. His jurisprudence restores - in the exception rather than the norm - the sovereign as uncommanded commander. For Hobbes, lawas are orders given by those with authority - authoritas non veritas facit legem. Confronted with complex systems of procedural limitation in public law and with the formalization of law into a system, laws become far more complex than orders. Modern legal positivism could point to a normal liberal-parliamentary legal order which did and still does appear to contradict Hobbes. Even in the somewhat modernized form of John Austin, the Hobbesian view of sovereignty is rejected on all sides. Schmitt shared neither the simplistic view of Hobbes that this implies, nor the indifference of modern legal positivism to the political foundation of law. He founded his jurisprudence neither on the normal workings of the legal order nor on the formal niceties of constitutional doctrine, but on a condition quite alien to them. 'Normalcy' rests not on legal or constitutional conditions but on a certain balance of political forces, a certain capacity of the state to impose order by force should the need arise. This is especially true of liberal-parliamentary regimes, whose public law requires stablization of political conflicts and considerable police and war powers even to begin to have the slightest chance of functioning at all. Law cannot itself form a completely rational and lawful system; the analysis of the state must make reference to those agencies which have the capacity to decide on the state of exception and not merely a formal plentitude of power.

In Political Theology Schmitt claims that the concepts of the modern theory of the state are secularized theological concepts. This is obvious in the case of the concept of sovereignty, wherein the omnipotent lawgiver is a mundane version of an all-powerful God. He argues that liberalism and parliamentarism correspond to deist views of God's action through constant and general natural laws. His own view is a form of fundamentalism in which the exception plays the same role in relation to the state as the miracles of Jesus do in confirming the Gospel. The exception reveals the legally unlimited capacity of whoever is sovereign within the state. In conventional, liberal-democratic doctrine the people are sovereign; their will is expressed through representatives. Schmitt argues that modern democracy is a form of populism in that the people are mobilized by propaganda and organized interests. Such a democracy bases legitimacy on the people's will. Thus parliament exists on the sufferance of political parties, propaganda agencies and organized interest which compete for popular 'consent.' When parliamentary forms and the rule of 'law' become inadequate to the political situation, they will be dispensed with in the name of the people: 'No other constitutional institution can withstand the sole criterion of the people's will, however it is expressed.'

Schmitt thus accepts the logic of Weber's view of plebiscitarian democracy and the rise of bureaucratic mass parties, which utterly destroy the old parliamentary notables. He uses the nineteenth-century conservatives Juan Donoso Cortes to set the essential dilemma in Political Theology: either a boundless democracy of plebiscitarian populism which will carry us wherever it will (i.e. to Marxist or fascist domination) or a dictatorship. Schmitt advocates a very specific form of dictatorship in a state of exception - a "commissarial' dictatorship, which acts to restore social stability, to preserve the concrete orders of society and restore the constitution. The dictator has a constitutional office. He acts in the name of the constitution, but takes such measures as are necessary to preserve order. these measures are not bound by law; they are extralegal.

Schmitt's doctrine thus involves a paradox. For all its stress on friend-enemy relations, on decisive political action, its core, its aim, is the maintenance of stability and order. It is founded on a political non-law, but not in the interest of lawlessness. Schmitt insists that the constitution must be capable of meeting the challenge of the exception, and of allowing those measures necessary to preserve order. He is anti-liberal because he claims that liberalism cannot cope with the reality of the political; it can only insist on a legal formalism which is useless in the exceptional case. He argues that only those parties which are bound to uphold the constitution should be allowed an 'equal chance' to struggle for power. Parties which threaten the existing order and use constitutional means to challenge the constitution should be subject to rigorous control.

Schmitt's relentless attack on 'discussion' makes most democrats and radicals extremely hostile to his views. He is a determined critic of the Enlightenment. Habermas's 'ideal speech situation', in which we communicate without distortion to discover a common 'emancipatory interest', would appear to Schmitt as a trivial philosophical restatement of Guizot's view that in representative government, ' through discussion the powers-that-be are obliged to seek truth in common." Schmitt is probably right. Enemies have nothing to discuss and we can never attain a situation in which the friend-enemy distinction is abolished. Liberalism does tend to ignore the exception and the more resolute forms of political struggle.

jeudi, 11 août 2011

Carl Schmitt: The Conservative Revolutionary Habitus and the Aesthetics of Horror

Carl Schmitt: The Conservative Revolutionary Habitus and the Aesthetics of Horror

Richard Wolin

Ex: http://freespeechproject.com/

 

"Carl Schmitt's polemical discussion of political Romanticism conceals the aestheticizing oscillations of his own political thought. In this respect, too, a kinship of spirit with the fascist intelligentsia reveals itself."
—Jürgen Habermas, "The Horrors of Autonomy: Carl Schmitt in English"

"The pinnacle of great politics is the moment in which the enemy comes into view in concrete clarity as the enemy."
—Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political (1927)

carl_schmitt.jpg

Only months after Hitler's accession to power, the eminently citable political philosopher and jurist Carl Schmitt, in the ominously titled work, Staat, Bewegung, Volk, delivered one of his better known dicta. On January 30, 1933, observes Schmitt, "one can say that 'Hegel died.'" In the vast literature on Schmitt's role in the National Socialist conquest of power, one can find many glosses on this one remark, which indeed speaks volumes. But let us at the outset be sure to catch Schmitt's meaning, for Schmitt quickly reminds us what he does not intend by this pronouncement: he does not mean to impugn the hallowed tradition of German étatistme, that is, of German "philosophies of state," among which Schmitt would like to number his own contributions to the annals of political thought. Instead, it is Hegel qua philosopher of the "bureaucratic class" or Beamtenstaat that has been definitely surpassed with Hitler's triumph. For "bureaucracy" (cf. Max Weber's characterization of "legal-bureaucratic domination") is, according to its essence, a bourgeois form of rule. As such, this class of civil servants—which Hegel in the Rechtsphilosophie deems the "universal class"—represents an impermissable drag on the sovereignty of executive authority. For Schmitt, its characteristic mode of functioning, which is based on rules and procedures that are fixed, preestablished, calculable, qualifies it as the very embodiment of bourgeois normalcy—a form of life that Schmitt strove to destroy and transcend in virtually everything he thought and wrote during the 1920s, for the very essence of the bureaucratic conduct of business is reverence for the norm, a standpoint that could not exist in great tension with the doctrines of Carl Schmitt himself, whom we know to be a philosopher of the state of emergency—of the Auhsnamhezustand (literally, the "state of exception"). Thus, in the eyes of Schmitt, Hegel had set an ignominious precedent by according this putative universal class a position of preeminence in his political thought, insofar as the primacy of the bureaucracy tends to diminish or supplant the perogative of sovereign authority.

But behind the critique of Hegel and the provocative claim that Hitler's rise coincides with Hegel's metaphorical death (a claim, that while true, should have offered, pace Schmitt, little cause for celebration) lies a further indictment, for in the remarks cited, Hegel is simultaneously perceived as an advocate of the Rechtsstaat, of "constitutionalism" and "rule of law." Therefore, in the history of German political thought, the doctrines of this very German philosopher prove to be something of a Trojan horse: they represent a primary avenue via which alien bourgeois forms of political life have infiltrated healthy and autochthonous German traditions, one of whose distinguishing features is an rejection of "constitutionalism" and all it implies. The political thought of Hegel thus represents a threat—and now we encounter another one of Schmitt's key terms from the 1920s—to German homogeneity.

Schmitt's poignant observations concerning the relationship between Hegel and Hitler expresses the idea that one tradition in German cultural life—the tradition of German idealism—has come to an end and a new set of principles—based in effect on the category of völkish homogeneity (and all it implies for Germany's political future)—has arisen to take its place. Or, to express the same thought in other terms: a tradition based on the concept of Vernuft or "reason" has given way to a political system whose new raison d'être was the principle of authoritarian decision—whose consummate embodiment was the Führerprinzep, one of the ideological cornerstones of the post-Hegelian state. To be sure, Schmitt's insight remains a source of fascination owing to its uncanny prescience: in a statement of a few words, he manages to express the quintessence of some 100 years of German historical development. At the same time, this remark also remains worthy insofar as it serves as a prism through which the vagaries of Schmitt's own intellectual biography come into unique focues: it represents an unambiguous declaration of his satiety of Germany's prior experiments with constitutional government and of his longing for a total- or Führerstaat in which the ambivalences of the parliamentary system would be abolished once and for all. Above all, however, it suggest how readily Schmitt personally made the transition from intellectual antagonist of Weimar democracy to whole-hearted supporter of National Socialist revolution. Herein lies what one may refer to as the paradox of Carl Schmitt: a man who, in the words of Hannah Arendt, was a "convinced Nazi," yet "whose very ingenious theories about the end of democracy and legal government still make arresting reading."

The focal point of our inquiry will be the distinctive intellectual "habitus" (Bourdieu) that facilitated Schmitt's alacritous transformation from respected Weimar jurist and academician to "crown jurist of the Third Reich." To understand the intellectual basis of Schmitt's political views, one must appreciate his elective affinities with that generation of so-called conservative revolutionary thinkers whose worldview was so decisive in turning the tide of public opinion against the fledgling Weimar republic. As the political theorist Kurt Sontheimer has noted: "It is hardly a matter of controversy today that certain ideological predispositions in German thought generally, but particularly in the intellectual climate of the Weimar Republic, induced a large number of German electors under the Weimar Republic to consider the National Socialist movement as less problematic than it turned out to be." And even though the nationalsocialists and the conservative revolutionaries failed to see eye to eye on many points, their respective plans for a new Germany were sufficiently close that a comparison between them is able to "throw light on the intellectual atmosphere in which, when National Socialism arose, it could seem to be a more or less presentable doctrine." Hence "National Socialism . . . derived considerable profit from thinkers like Oswald Spengler, Arthur Moeller van den Bruck, and Ernst Jünger," despite their later parting of the ways. One could without much exaggeration label this intellectual movement protofascistic, insofar as its general ideological effect consisted in providing a type of ideological-spiritual preparation for the National Socialist triumph.

 

Schmitt himself was never an active member of the conservative revolutionary movement, whose best known representatives—Spengler, Jünger, and van den Bruck—have been named by Sontheimer (though one might add Hans Zehrer and Othmar Spann). It would be fair to say that the major differences between Schmitt and his like-minded, influential group of right-wing intellectuals concerned a matter of form rather than substance: unlike Schmitt, most of whose writings appeared in scholarly and professional journals, the conservative revolutionaries were, to a man, nonacademics who made names for themselves as Publizisten—that is, as political writers in that same kaleidoscope and febrile world of Weimar Offentlichkeit that was the object of so much scorn in their work. But Schmitt's status as a fellow traveler in relation to the movement's main journals (such as Zehrer's influential Die Tat, activities, and circles notwithstanding, his profound intellectual affinities with this group of convinced antirepublicans are impossible to deny. In fact, in the secondary literature, it has become more common than not simply to include him as a bona fide member of the group.

The intellectual habitus shared by Schmitt and the conservative revolutionaries is in no small measure of Nietzschean derivation. Both subscribed to the immoderate verdict registered by Nietzsche on the totality of inherited Western values: those values were essentially nihilistic. Liberalism, democracy, utlitarianism, individualism, and Enlightenment rationalism were the characteristic belief structures of the decadent capitalist West; they were manifestations of a superficial Zivilisation, which failed to measure up to the sublimity of German Kultur. In opposition to a bourgeois society viewed as being in an advanced state of decomposition, Schmitt and the conservative revolutionaries counterposed the Nietzschean rites of "active nihilism." In Nietzsche's view, whatever is falling should be given a final push. Thus one of the patented conceptual oppositions proper to the conservative revolutionary habitus was that between the "hero" (or "soldier") and the "bourgeois." Whereas the hero thrives on risk, danger, and uncertainity, the life of bourgeois is devoted to petty calculations of utility and security. This conceptual opposition would occupy center stage in what was perhaps the most influential conservative revolutionary publication of the entire Weimar period, Ernst Jünger's 1932 work, Der Arbeiter (the worker), where it assumes the form of a contrast between "the worker-soldier" and "the bourgeois." If one turns, for example, to what is arguably Schmitt's major work of the 1920s, The Concept of the Political (1927), where the famous "friend-enemy" distinction is codified as the raison d'être of politics, it is difficult to ignore the profound conservative revolutionary resonances of Schmitt's argument. Indeed, it would seem that such resonances permeate, Schmitt's attempt to justify politics primarily in martial terms; that is, in light of the ultimate instance of (or to use Schmitt's own terminology) Ernstfall of battle (Kampf) or war.

Once the conservative revolutionary dimension of Schmitt's thought is brought to light, it will become clear that the continuities in his pre- and post-1933 political philosophy and stronger than the discontinuities. Yet Schmitt's own path of development from arch foe of Weimar democracy to "convinced Nazi" (Arendt) is mediated by a successive series of intellectual transformations that attest to his growing political radicalisation during the 1920s and early 1930s. He follows a route that is both predictable and sui generis: predictable insomuch as it was a route traveled by an entire generation of like-minded German conservative and nationalist intellectuals during the interwar period; sui generis, insofar as there remains an irreducible originality and perspicacity to the various Zeitdiagnosen proffered by Schmitt during the 1920s, in comparison with the at times hackneyed and familar formulations of his conservative revolutionary contemporaries.

The oxymoronic designation "conservative revolutionary" is meant to distinguish the radical turn taken during the interwar period by right-of-center German intellectuals from the stance of their "traditional conservative" counterparts, who longed for a restoration of the imagined glories of earlier German Reichs and generally stressed the desirability of a return to premodern forms of social order (e.g., Tönnies Gemeinschaft) based on aristocratic considerations of rank and privilege. As opposed to the traditional conservatives, the conservative revolutionaries (and this is true of Jünger, van den Bruck, and Schmitt), in their reflections of the German defeat in the Great War, concluded that if Germany were to be successful in the next major European conflagaration, premodern or traditional solutions would not suffice. Instead, what was necessary was "modernization," yet a form of modernization that was at the same time compatible with the (albeit mythologized) traditional German values of heroism, "will" (as opposed to "reason"), Kultur, and hierarchy. In sum, what was desired was a modern community. As Jeffrey Herf has stressed in his informative book on the subject, when one searches for the ideological origins of National Socialism, it is not so much Germany's rejection of modernity that is at issue as its selective embrace of modernity. Thus
National Socialist's triumph, far from being characterized by a disdain of modernity simpliciter, was marked simultaneously by an assimilation of technical modernity and a repudiation of Western political modernity: of the values of political liberalism as they emerge from the democratic revolutions of the eighteenth century. This describes the essence of the German "third way" or Sonderweg: Germany's special path to modernity that is neither Western in the sense of England and France nor Eastern in the sense of Russia or pan-slavism.

Schmitt began his in the 1910s as a traditonal conservative, namely, as a Catholic philosopher of state. As such, his early writings revolved around a version of political authoritarianism in which the idea of a strong state was defended at all costs against the threat of liberal encroachments. In his most significant work of the decade, The Value of the State and the Significance of the Individual (1914), the balance between the two central concepts, state and individual, is struck one-sidely in favour of the former term. For Schmitt, the state, in executing its law-promulgating perogatives, cannot countenance any opposition. The uncompromising, antiliberal conclusion he draws from this observation is that "no individual can have full autonomy within the state." Or, as Schmitt unambiguously expresses a similar thought elsewhere in the same work: "the individual" is merely "a means to the essence, the state is what is important." Thus, although Schmitt displayed little inclination for the brand of jingoistic nationalism so prevalent among his German academic mandarin brethern during the war years, as Joseph Bendersky has observed, "it was precisely on the point of authoritarianism vs. liberal individualism that the views of many Catholics [such as Schmitt] and those of non-Catholic conservatives coincided."

But like other German conservatives, it was Schmitt's antipathy to liberal democratic forms of government, coupled with the political turmoil of the Weimar republic, that facilitated his transformation from a traditional conservative to a conservative revolutionary. To be sure, a full account of the intricacies of Schmitt's conservative revolutionary "conversion" would necessitate a year by year account of his political thought during the Weimar period, during which Schmitt's intellectual output was nothing if prolific, (he published virtually a book a year). Instead, for the sake of concision and the sake of fidelity to the leitmotif of the "conservative revolutionary habitus," I have elected to concentrate on three key aspects of Schmitt's intellectual transformation during this period: first, his sympathies with the vitalist (lebensphilosophisch) critique of modern rationalism; second, his philosophy of history during these years; and third, his protofascistic of the conservative revolutionary doctrine of the "total state." All three aspects, moreover, are integrally interrelated.

II.


The vitalist critique of Enlightenment rationalism is of Nietzschean provenance. In opposition to the traditional philosophical image of "man" qua animal rationalis, Nietzsche counterposes his vision of "life [as] will to power." In the course of this "transvaluation of all values," the heretofore marginalized forces of life, will, affect, and passion should reclaim the position of primacy they once enjoyed before the triumph of "Socratism." It is in precisely this spirit that Nietzsche recommends that in the future, we philosophize with our affects instead of with concepts, for in the culture of European nihilism that has triumphed with the Enlightenment, "the essence of life, its will to power, is ignored," argues Nietzsche; "one overlooks the essential priority of the spontaneous, aggressive, expansive, form-giving forces that give new interpretations and directions."

It would be difficult to overestimate the power and influence this Nietzschean critique exerted over an entire generation of antidemocratic German intellectuals during the 1920s. The anticivilizational ethos that pervades Spengler's Decline of the West—the defence of "blood and tradition" against the much lamented forces of societal rationalisation—would be unthinkable without that dimension of vitalistic Kulturkritik to which Nietzsche's work gave consummate expression. Nor would it seem that the doctrines of Klages, Geist als Widersacher der Seele (Intellect as the Antagonist of the Soul; 1929-31), would have captured the mood of the times as well as they did had it not been for the irrevocable precedent set by Nietzsche's work, for the central opposition between "life" and "intellect," as articulated by Klages and so many other German "anti-intellectual intellectuals" during the interwar period, represents an unmistakably Nietzschean inheritance.

While the conservative revolutionary components of Schmitt's worldview have been frequently noted, the paramount role played by the "philosophy of life"—above all, by the concept of cultural criticism proper to Lebensphilosophie—on his political thought has escaped the attention of most critics. However, a full understanding of Schmitt's status as a radical conservative intellectual is inseparable from an appreciation of an hitherto neglected aspect of his work.

In point of fact, determinate influences of "philosophy of life"—a movement that would feed directly into the Existenzphilosophie craze of the 1920s (Heidegger, Jaspers, and others)—are really discernable in Schmitt's pre-Weimar writings. Thus, in one of his first published works, Law and Judgment (1912), Schmitt is concerned with demonstrating the impossibility of understanding the legal order in exclusively rationalist terms, that is, as a self-sufficient, complete system of legal norms after the fashion of legal positivism. It is on this basis that Schmitt argues in a particular case, a correct decision cannot be reached solely via a process of deducation or generalisation from existing legal precedents or norms. Instead, he contends, there is always a moment of irreducible particularity to each case that defies subsumption under general principles. It is precisely this aspect of legal judgment that Schmitt finds most interesting and significant. He goes on to coin a phrase for this "extralegal" dimension that proves an inescapable aspect of all legal decision making proper: the moment of "concrete indifference," the dimension of adjudication that transcends the previously established legal norm. In essence, the moment of "concrete indifference" represents for Schmitt a type of vital substrate, an element of "pure life," that forever stands opposed to the formalism of laws as such. Thus at the heart of bourgeois society—its legal system—one finds an element of existential particularity that defies the coherence of rationalist syllogizing or formal reason.

The foregoing account of concrete indifference is a matter of more than passing or academic interest insofar as it proves a crucial harbinger of Schmitt's later decisionistic theory of sovereignty, for its its devaluation of existing legal norms as a basis for judicial decision making, the category of concrete indifference points towards the imperative nature of judicial decision itself as a self-sufficient and irreducible basis of adjudication. The vitalist dimension of Schmitt's early philosophy of law betrays itself in his thoroughgoing denigration of legal normativism—for norms are a product of arid intellectualism (Intelligenz) and, as such, hostile to life (lebensfeindlick)—and the concomitant belief that the decision alone is capable of bridging the gap between the abstractness of law and the fullness of life.

The inchoate vitalist sympathies of Schmitt's early work become full blown in his writings of the 1920s. Here, the key text is Political Theology (1922), in which Schmitt formulates his decisionist theory of politics, or, as he remarks in the work's often cited first sentance: "Sovereign is he who decides the state of exception [Ausnahmezustand]."

It would be tempting to claim from this initial, terse yet lapidry definition of sovereignty, one may deduce the totality of Schmitt's mature political thought, for it contains what we know to the be the two keywords of his political philosophy during these years: decision and the exception. Both in Schmitt's lexicon are far from value-neutral or merely descriptive concepts. Instead, they are both accorded unambiguously positive value in the economy of his thought. Thus one of the hallmarks of Schmitt's political philosophy during the Weimar years will be a privileging of Ausnahmezustand, or state of exception, vis-à-vis political normalcy.

It is my claim that Schmitt's celebration of the state of exception over conditions of political normalcy—which he essentially equates with legal positivism and "parliamentarianism"—has its basis in the vitalist critique of Enlightenment rationalism. In his initial justification of the Ausnahmezustand in Political Theology, Schmitt leaves no doubt concerning the historical pedigree of such concepts. Thus following the well-known definition of sovereignty cited earlier, he immediantly underscores its status as a "borderline concept"—a Grenzbegriff, a concept "pertaining to the outermost sphere." It is precisely this fascination with extreme or "boundry situations" (Grenzsituationen—K. Jaspers—those unique moments of existential peril that become a proving ground of individual "authenticity"—that characterizes Lebensphilosophie's sweeping critique of bourgeois "everydayness." Hence in the Grenzsituationen, Dasein glimpses transcendence and is thereby transformed from possible to real Existenz." In parallel fashion, Schmitt, by according primacy to the "state of exception" as opposed to political normalcy, tries to invest the emergency situation with a higher, existential significance and meaning.

According to the inner logic of this conceptual scheme, the "state of exception" becomes the basis for a politics of authenticity. In contrast to conditions of political normalcy, which represent the unexalted reign of the "average, the "medicore," and the "everyday," the state of exception proves capable of reincorporating a dimension of heroism and greatness that is sorely lacking in routinized, bourgeois conduct of political life.

Consequently, the superiority of the state as the ultimate, decisionistic arbiter over the emergency situation is a matter that, in Schmitt's eyes, need not be argued for, for according to Schmitt, "every rationalist interpretation falsifies the immediacy of life." Instead, in his view, the state represents a fundamental, irrefragable, existential verity, as does the category of "life" in Nietzsche's philosophy, or, as Schmitt remarks with a characteristic pith in Political Theology, "The existence of the state is undoubted proof of its superiority over the validity of the legal norm." Thus "the decision [on the state of exception] becomes instantly independent of argumentative substantiation and receives autonomous value."

But as Franz Neumann observes in Behemoth, given the lack of coherence of National Socialist ideology, the rationales provided for totalitarian practice were often couched specifically in vitalist or existential terms. In Neumann's words,

 

[Given the incoherence of National Socialist ideology], what is left as justification for the [Grossdeutsche] Reich? Not racism, not the idea of the Holy Roman Empire, and certainly not some democratic nonsense like popular sovereignty or self-determination. Only the Reich itself remains. It is its own justification. The philosophical roots of the argument are to be found in the existential philosophy of Heidegger. Transferred to the realm of politics, exisentialism argues that power and might are true: power is a sufficient theoretical basis for more power.

 


[Excerpts from The Seduction of Unreason: The Intellectual Romance with Fascism from Nietzsche to Postmodernism (2004).]

Keith Preston: Understanding Carl Schmitt

 

Keith Preston: Understanding Carl Schmitt

mardi, 02 août 2011

Arnolt Bronnen: Entre o Communismo e o Nacional-Socialismo

Arnolt Bronnen: Entre o Comunismo e o Nacional-Socialismo

 
por Werner Olles
Ex: http://legio-victrix.blogspot.com/
Arnolt Bronnen nasceu em 19 de agosto de 1895 em Viena. Desde muito jovem decidiu mudar seu nome verdadeiro (Arnold Bronner) pelo que anos mais tarde conhecerá a celebridade no mundo das letras. Esta tendência a maquiar a realidade acompanhar-lhe-á ao longo de sua existência. Assim é como converteu-se de judeu vienense em ário-germânico; de cidadão alemão em cidadão austríaco, para voltar à cidadania alemã; de comunista a nacional-revolucionário, mais tarde nacional-socialista, para regressar anos mais tarde ao comunismo.
Após a Grande Guerra, na qual participou como Kaiserjäger (Caçador Imperial) no front do Tirol, onde foi ferido gravemente no pescoço, iniciou sua carreira literária em 1922 com a publicação de uma obra teatral entitulada Vatermord (Parricida), que havia começado a escrever sendo prisioneiro dos italianos. Naquela época Bronnen pertencia a um grupo de dramaturgos, escritores e atores vanguardistas comprometidos com o expressionismo e vinculados a Bertold Brecht, com quem mantinha estreitos laços de amizade. Brecht havia encarregado-se da montagem de dita obra porém, desgraçadamente, abandonou esta iniciativa depois de haver escrito inclusive os arranjos para a encenação.
Após sua estréia em Frankfurt, representou-se em Berlim pela primeira vez em 14 de maio de 1922, a cargo da companhia "Deutscher Theater", convertendo-se em um autêntico escândalo. Sua segunda obra, Anarchie in Sillian (Anarquia em Sillian), levou à maioria dos críticos a considerar que o dramaturgo do futuro não era Brecht, senão Bronnen.
Em 1924 estreou-se sua obra Katalaunische Schlacht (A batalha dos Campos Catalaúnicos) no Grande Teatro de Frankfurt. Um ano mais tarde, Bronnen escreveu Die Rheinischen Rebellen (Os rebeldes renanos), obra que suscitou profundas polêmicas entre a crítica: o autor, conhecido até esse momento com um simpatizante das correntes marxistas, havia passado ao campo do nacionalismo. Bronnen, porém, todavia não havia dado esse passo.
Mais tarde escreveu Ostpolzug (Campanha ao Polo Leste), drama no qual explorava a personalidade de Alexandre o Grande. Em 1925 estreou Exzesse (Excesso) obra com a qual, uma vez mais, provocou um grande alvoroço como consequência de suas cenas e diálogos eróticos Um ano mais tarde estreou Reparationen (Reparações), obra dedicada à resistência nacional contra a ocupação francesa da Renânia e contra o pagamento de reparações de guerra.
Do marxismo ao nacionalismo-revolucionário
Em 1929, Bronnen publicou um romance sobra a Alta Silésia entitulado O.S., onde recria a luta dos Freikorps contra os insurgentes polacos antes de iniciar-se a Primeira Guerra Mundial e do significativo e sangrento assalto dos voluntários alemães contra Annaberg. Tucholsky repreende-o por ter feito um "biscate insensato" e de propagar "mentiras próprias de fascistas de salão". Pelo contrário, Joseph Goebbels, escreveu: "O.S. de Bronnen é o livro que todos gostaríamos de ter escrito." Ernst Jünger considerou este romance como "um primeiro sinal, que indica que nos ambientes de Bronnen, cabe a responsabilidade". Em Der Tag e no Münchener Neueste Nachrichten podia ler-se: "É algo mais que um romance, é uma profissão de fé política de altos voos", enquanto que Alfred Rosenberg, no Völkischer Beobachter chama a atenção sobre Bronnen, porém isso sim, sem deixar de considerá-lo um "bon vivant" e um autor "perigoso".
Politicamente, Bronnen já havia convertido-se em um nacional-revolucionário, próximo ao grupo de intelectuais que expressavam-se em revistas como Die Standarte, Deutsches Volkstum, Arminius, Deutsche Front, Das Dritte Reich, Gewissen, Die Kommanden, Nationalsozialistische Briefe, Der Vormarsch, Der Wehrwolf e Widerstand, as quais pertenciam os irmãos Ernst e Friedrich-Georg Jünger, Friedrich Hielscher, Franz Schauwecker, Ernst von Salomon, Herbert Blank, Otto Strasser, Ernst Niekisch e A.Paul Weber. Como antigo intelectual da esquerda marxista, partidário de uma sorte de socialismo popular e combativo, Bronnen sentiu-se atraído por tais círculos.
No plano profissional, Bronnen começou sua carreira na UFA e na Reichsrundfunkgesellschaft (Sociedade Radiofônica do Reich), ao tempo que rompe os laços que ainda o uniam com os extremistas de esquerda. Após um congresso sob o título "Literatura e Rádio", produz-se uma azeda polêmica com seus colegas, os escritores Alfred Döblin, Walter von Molo, Börries von Münchhausen, Alfons Paquet, Ludwig Fulda, Herbert Euleberg e Arnold Zweig, na medida em que ele era partidário de pôr a rádio "a serviço do povo", "não estava ali para servir aos literatos, senão ao povo", e, em qualquer caso, não devia converter-se em "uma instituição beneficente para escritores aposentados". Para Bronnen, o escritor é tão somente "o instrumento da expressão das idéias da nação".
Em janeiro de 1930 organiza um debate que, com os anos, converter-se-á em emblemático frente aos microfones da Radio Berlim, com Kurt Hiller, dirigende do Grupo de Pacifistas Revolucionários, e Franz Schauwecker, conhecido escritor nacional-revolucionário. Bronnen escreve uma biografia de Von Rossbach, chefe dos Freikorps, e pouco depois, conhece Goebbels, com cuja personalidade fica fascinado. Bronnen converte-se desta maneira no provocador número um da Alemanha. Quando Thomas Mann sustenta em um ato público que a burguesia alemã defende, lado a lado com os social-democratas, as instituições da República de Weimar, Bronnen abandona a sala flanqueado por vinte SA pedindo a dissolução da reunião. Por ocasião da estréia do filme Nada de novo no front, baseada no romance do mesmo nome de Erich Maria Remarque, Bronnen, com sua mulher Olga, uma amiga de Goebbels - que dar-lhe-á uma filha em 1938, Bárbara, que, anos mais tarde, como seu pai, converter-se-á em escritora - e vários camaradas, provocarão um grande alvoroço soltando ratos brancos na sala. Goebbels conhecia a ascendência judia de Bronnen, razão pela qual o responsável da propaganda nazi dar-lhe-á seu apoio diante das denúncias de alguns colegaso que desprezavam-no e de não poucos artigos publicados na imprensa.
A partir da tomada de poder pelos nacional-socialistas em 1933, Bronnen conheceu algumas dificuldades como consequência de sua origem racial. Em um princípio, disse ser filho natural, depois fez-se um estudo antropométrico do crânio para provar seu caráter "ariano". Não participava das idéias de resistência antinazi de alguns de seus antigos amigos nacional-revolucionários e nacional-bolcheviques. Antes de 1933, por exemplo, Bronnen havia protegido Ernst Niekisch contra as injúrias lançadas por Goebbels, porém quando os nazis subiram ao poder Bronnen cuidou-se muito de dar a conhecer sua posição contra o anti-hitlerismo de Niekisch.
Stalingrad: a estrela de Bronnen apaga-se
Bronnen teve muito poder através daso ndas da Radio Berlim. Depurou os profissionais de esquerda, liberais e judeus. Escreveu um romance sobre o ambiente radiofônico, Der Kampf in Äther (Combate pelas ondas), que Alfred Rosenberg chegou inclusive a censurar, por entender que criticava subliminalmente a política cultural nacional-socialista. Meses mais tarde, Bronnen converter-se-á em um pioneiro da televisão, à cabeça de uma pequena equipe que filma os Jogos Olímpicos de Berlim de 1936.
A estrela de Bronnen, não obstante, começa a apagar-se após a tragédia de Stalingrad. Alfred Rosenberg, inimigo das vanguardas nas artes e na literatura, a quem nunca havia gostado o dandy Bronnen e a quem, definitivamente, considerava um produto da boêmia literária, começa a maquinar. Em uma conversação entre Hitler e aquele, Rosenberg ataca aos literatos "bolcheviques culturais" entocados na retaguarda, enquanto que os jovens soldados alemães regavam com seu sangue o front russo ou congelavam no inverno das estepes. Rosenberg cita dois nomes: Erich Kästner e Arnolt Bronnen. Depois de um processo de intenções e da proibição de toda atividade literária, Bronnen é expulso da Câmara de Escritores do Reich. Quando Bronnen pede explicações por esta sanção, é-lhe respondido que é como consequência de suas antigas atividades e "escandalosas" atividades vanguardistas. Meses mais tarde, por conta de escutas por parte da Gestapo, Bronnen é inclusive detido, como anos mais tarde explicará em sua autobiografia.
Em 1944 Bronnen saiu da Alemanha e instalou-se em Goisern im Salzkammergut, onde reúne-se com um grupo da resistência antinazi, não sem antes vestir o uniforme da Wehrmacht, chegando à Áustra em 8 de maio de 1945. Até 1959, trabalhou como jornalista do diário Neue Zeit de Linz.
Na República Democrática Alemã
A princípios da década de 50 Bronnen traslada-se a Berlim Oriental. Afilia-se ao SED social-comunista e escreve sua autobiografia em 1954, Arnolt Bronnen gibt zu Protokoll, que embelezará a seu gosto. Mais tarde aparecem Deutschland Kein Wintermärchen (Alemanha, não és um pequeno conto de inverno), em 1956, e Tage mit Bert Brecht (Dias junto a Bert Brecht), em 1959. Em 1957, reeditou um de seus velhos livros, o romance Film und Leben der Barbara La Marr (Filme e vida de Bárbara La Marr). A imprensa da República Democrática ataca-o duramente acusando-o de "antissemitismo e pornografia". Fala-se inclusive de "atitude fundamentalmente anti-humana de sua consciência", faz-se alusão a "seus vícios desagradáveis de juventude", de seu "estilo amaneirado", e suas "posturas cínicas e insolentes" nos "baixos estádios da pirâmide literária da época". A nova edição de dito romance foi proibida, o que supôs o imprevisto final da carreira como dramaturgo de Bronnen. Brecht interveio apelando à bondade intrínseca de Bronnen e em memória de sua velha amizade. Brecht oferece a Bronnen a possibilidade de converter-se em crítico teatral, o que permite ao inconformista visceral escapar do muro de silêncio que a exclusão definitiva do mundo cultural representa. Bronnen, não obstante, já não poderá jogar papel político nenhum na República Democrática comunista.
Em 12 de outubro de 1959, Bronnen morreu à idade de 64 anos em Berlim. Durante toda sua vida foi um personagem controvertido: de dramaturgo esquerdista a romancista nacional-revolucionário e nacional-socialista. Arnolt Bronnen encarnou essa mistura de inconformismo, oportunismo e dandismo. Jamais foi um renegado, senão um eterno convertido, responsabilidade, sem dúvida alguma, de sua vocação e seu secreto talento.

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.

samedi, 23 juillet 2011

Carl Schmitt: Total Enemy, Total State & Total War

Total Enemy, Total State, & Total War

Carl SCHMITT

Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/

 Translated by Simona Draghici

Editor’s Note:

The following translation from Carl Schmitt appears online for the first time in commemoration of Schmitt’s birth on July 11, 1888. The translation originally appeared in Carl Schmitt, Four Essays, 1931–1938, ed. and trans. Simona Draghici (Washington, D.C.: Plutarch Press, 1999).

I

cs.jpgIn a certain sense, there have been total wars at all times; a theory of the total war, however, presumably dates only from the time of Clausewitz who would talk of “abstract” and “absolute” wars.”[1] Later on, under the impact of the experiences of the last Great War, the formula of total war has acquired a specific meaning and a particular effectiveness. Since 1920, it has become the prevailing catchword. It was first brought out in sharp relief in the French literature, in book titles like La guerre totale. Afterwards, between 1926 and 1928, it found its way into the language of the proceedings of the disarmament committee at Geneva. In concepts such as “war potential” (potentiel de guerre), “moral disarmament” (désarmement moral) and “total disarmament” (désarmement total). The fascist doctrine of the “total state” came to it by way of the state; the association yielded the conceptual pair: total state, total war. In Germany, the publication of the Concept of the Political has since 1927 expanded the pair of totalities to a set of three: total enemy, total war, total state. Ernst Jünger’s book of 1930 Total Mobilization made the formula part of the general consciousness. Nonetheless, it was only Ludendorff’s 1936 booklet entitled Der Totale Krieg (The Total War) that lent it an irresistible force and caused its dissemination beyond all bounds.

The formula is omnipresent; it forces into view a truth whose horrors the general consciousness would rather shun. Such formulas, however, are always in danger of becoming widespread nationally and internationally and of being degraded to summary slogans, to mere gramophone records of the publicity mill. Hence some clarifications may be appropriate.

(a) A war may be total in the sense of summoning up one’s strength to the limit, and of the commitment of everything to the last reserves.[2] It may also be called total in the sense of the unsparing use of war means of annihilation. When the well-known English author J. F. C. Fuller writes in a recent article, entitled “The First of the League Wars, Its Lessons and Omens,” that the Italian campaign in Abyssinia was a modern total war, he only refers to the use of efficacious weapons (airplanes and gas), whereas looked at from another vantage point, Abyssinia in fact was not capable of waging a modern total war nor did Italy use its reserves to the limit, reach the highest intensity, and lead to an oil blockade or to the closing of the Suez Canal, because of the pressure exerted through the sanctions imposed by the League of Nations.

(b) A war may be total either on both sides or on one side only. It may also be deliberately limited, rationed and measured out, because of the geographical situation, the war technique in use, and also the predominant political principles of both sides. The typical 18th-century war, the so-called “cabinet war,” was essentially and deliberately a partial war. It rested on the clear segregation of the soldiers participating in the war from the non-participant inhabitants and non-combatants. Nevertheless, the Seven Years War of Frederick the Great was relatively total, on Prussia’s side, when compared with the other powers’ mobilization of forces. A situation, typical of Germany, showed itself readily in that case: the adversity of geographical conditions and the foreign coalitions compelled a German state to mobilize its forces to a higher degree than its more affluent and fortunate bigger neighbors.[3]

(c) The character of the war may change during the belligerent showdown. The will to fight may grow limp or it may intensify, as it happened in the 1914–1918 world war, when the war trend on the German side towards the mobilization of all the economic and industrial reserves soon forced the English side to introduce general conscription.

(d) Finally, some other methods of confrontation and trial of strength, which are not total, always develop within the totality of war. Thus for a time, everyone seeks to avoid a total war which naturally carries a total risk. In this way, after the world war, there were the so-called military reprisals (the 1923 Corfu Conflict, Japan-China in 1932), followed by the attempts at non-military, economic sanctions, according to Article 16 of the Covenant of the League of Nations (against Italy, autumn 1935), and finally, certain methods of power testing on foreign soil (Spain 1936–1937) emerged in a way that could be correctly interpreted only in close connection with the total character of modern warfare. They are intermediate and transitional forms between open war and true peace; they derive their meaning from the fact that total war looms large in the background as a possibility, and an understandable caution recommends itself in the delineation of the conflictual spaces. Likewise, it is only from this point of view that they can be grasped by the science of international law.

II

The core of the matter lies in warfare. From the nature of the total war one may grasp the character and the whole aspect of state totality; from the special character of the decisive weapons one may deduce the peculiar character and aspect of the totality of war. But it is the total enemy that gives the total war its meaning.[4]

The different services and types of warfare, land warfare, sea warfare, air warfare, they each experience the totality of war in a particular way. A corresponding world of notions and ideas piles on each of these types of warfare. The traditional notions of “levée en masse” (levy), “nation armée” (nation in arms), and “Volk in Waffen” (the people in arms) belong to land warfare.[5] Out of these notions emerged the continental doctrine of total war, essentially as a doctrine of land warfare, and that thanks mainly to Clausewitz. Sea warfare, on the other hand, has its own strategic and tactical methods and criteria; moreover, until recently, it has been first and foremost a war against the opponent’s trade and economy, whence a war against non-combatants, an economic war, which by its laws of blockade, contraband, and prizes, drew neutral trade into the hostilities, as well. Air warfare has not so far built up a similar fully-fledged and independent system of its own. There is no doctrine of air warfare yet that would correspond to the world of notions and concepts accumulated with regard to land and sea warfare. Nonetheless, as a consequence of air warfare, the overall configuration sways in the main towards a three-dimensional total war.

The “if” of a total war is beyond any doubt today. The “how” may vary. The totality is perceptible from opposite vantage points. Hence the standard type of guide and leader in a total war is necessarily different. It would be too simple an equation to accept that the soldier will step into the centre of this totality as the prevailing type in a total war to the same extent as in other kinds of wars previously.[6] If, as it has been said, total mobilization abolishes the separation of the soldier from the civilian, it may very well happen that the soldier changes into a civilian as the civilian changes into a soldier, or both may change into something new, a third alternative. In reality, it all depends on the general character of the war. A real war of religion turns the soldiers into the tools of priests or preachers. A total war that is waged on behalf of the economy becomes the tool of economic power groups. There are other forms in which the soldier himself is the typical model and the ascending expression of the character of the people. Geographical conditions, racial and social peculiarities of all kinds, are factors that determine the type of warfare waged by great nations. Even today it is unlikely that a nation could engage in all the three kinds of warfare to a degree equal to the three-dimensional total war. It is probable that the centre of gravity in the deployment of forces will always rest with one or the other of the three kinds of warfare and the doctrine of total war will draw on it.[7]

Until now the history of the European peoples has been dominated by the contrast of the English sea warfare with the Continental land warfare. It is not a matter of “traders and heroes” or that sort of thing, but rather the recognition that any of the various kinds of warfare may become total, and out of its own characteristics generate a special world of notions and ideals as its own doctrine and also relevant to international and constitutional law, particularly in the assessment of the soldier’s worth and of his position in the general body of the people. It would be a mistake to regard the English sea warfare of the last three centuries in the light of the total land warfare of Clausewitz’s theory, essentially as mere trade and economic but not total warfare, and to misinterpret it as unconnected with and markedly different from totality. It is the English sea warfare that generated the kernel of a total world view.[8]

The English sea warfare is total in its capacity for total enmity. It knows how to mobilize religious, ideological, spiritual, and moral forces as only few of the great wars in world history have done. The English sea warfare against Spain was a world-wide combat of the Germanic and Romance peoples, between Protestantism and Catholicism, Calvinism and Jesuitism, and there are few instances of such outbursts of enmity as intense and final as Cromwell’s against the Spaniards. The English war against Napoleon likewise changed from a sea war into a “crusade.” In the war against Germany between 1914 and 1918, the world-wide English propaganda knew how to whip up enormous moral and spiritual energies in the name of civilization and humanity, of democracy and freedom, against the Prussian-German “militarism.” The English mind had also proved its ability to interpret the industrial-technical upsurge of the 19th century in the terms of the English worldview. Herbert Spencer drew an extremely effective picture of history that was disseminated all over the world, in countless works of popularization, the propagandistic force of which proved its worth in the 1914–1918 World War. It was the philosophy of mankind’s progress, presented as an evolution from feudalism to trade and industry, from the political to the economic, from soldiers to industrialists, from war to peace. It portrayed the soldier essentially as Prussian-German, eo ipso “feudal reactionary,” a “medieval” figure standing in the way of progress and peace. Moreover, out of its specificity, the English sea warfare evolved a full, self-contained system of international law. It asserted itself and its own concepts held on their own against the corresponding concepts of Continental international law throughout the 19th century. There is an Anglo-Saxon concept of enemy, which in essence rejects the differentiation between combatants and non-combatants, and an Anglo-Saxon conception of war that incorporates the so-called economic war. In short, the fundamental concepts and norms of this English international law are total as such and certainly indicative of an ideology in itself total.

Finally, the English constitutional regulations turned the subordination of the soldiers to the civilians into an ideological principle and imposed it upon the Continent during the liberal 19th century. By those standards, civilization lies in the rule of the bourgeois, civilian ideal which is essentially unsoldierly. Accordingly, the constitution is always but a civil-bourgeois system in which, as Clemenceau put it, the soldier’s only raison d’être is to defend the civilian bourgeois society, while basically he is subject to civilian command. The Prussian soldier state carried on a century-long political struggle on the home front against this bourgeois constitutional ideal. It succumbed to it in the Autumn of 1918. The history of Prussian Germany’s home politics from 1848 to 1918 was a ceaseless conflict between the army and parliament, an uninterrupted battle which the government had to fight with the parliament over the structure of the army, and the army budget necessary to make ready for an unavoidable war, that were determined not by the necessities of foreign policy but rather by compromises regarding internal policy. The dictate of Versailles, which stipulated the army’s organization and its equipment to the smallest detail, in an agreement of foreign policy, was preceded by half a century of periodical agreements of internal policy between the Prussian-German soldier state and its internal policy opponents, in which all the details of the organization and the equipment of the army had been decided by the internal policy. The conflict between bourgeois society and the Prussian soldier state led to an unnatural isolation of the War Office from the power of command and to many other separations, consistently rooted in the opposition between a bourgeois constitutional ideal imported from England either directly or through France and Belgium, on the one hand, and the older constitutional ideal of the German soldiery, on the other.[9]

Today Germany has surmounted that division and achieved a close integration of its soldier force.[10] Indeed, attempts will not fail to be made to describe it as militarism, in the manner of earlier propaganda methods, and to hold Germany guilty of the advent of total war. Such questions of guilt too belong to the totality of the ideological wrangles. Le combat spirituel est aussi brutal que la bataille d’hommes (spiritual combat is as brutal as the battles of men). Nonetheless, before nations stagger into a total war once more, one must raise the question whether a total enmity truly exists among the European nations nowadays. War and enmity belong to the history of nations. But the worst misfortune only occurs wherever the enmity is generated by the war itself, as in the 1914–1918 war, and not as it would be right and sensible, namely that an older, unswayed enmity, true and total to the Day of Judgment, should led to a total war.

Translator’s Notes

Originally published in Völkerbund und Völkerrecht, vol. 4, 1937, this essay was reproduced in Posirionen und Begriffe im Kampf mit Weimar-Gent-Versailles, 1929–1939, (Hamburg, 1940), pp. 235–239.

1. General Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831) is best known for his book Vom Kriege, never finished and published posthumously, which incidentally has been translated into English under the title On War. There are numerous versions available in print.

2. Carl Schmitt’s own political principles of “will” and “energy,” components of his qualitative concept of total state, derive from this characteristic feature of “total war”: collective determination to assume a cause considered worthwhile and unreserved commitment to its fulfillment. As a generalized rallying around and enthusiasm for a cause and a particular course of action, it is a frequent phenomenon of social psychology, yet its usually ephemeral character makes it unfit as a durable basis of any social structure. I remember the enthusiasm with which in 1982, to a man, the Argentines, for instance, rallied to the idea of going to war to free the Maldives and hurried to put it into practice, and the accompanying hatred which grew against the British. The enthusiasm cooled off quickly, but not the hatred, which lingered on. To perpetuate the enthusiasm, a plethora of other factors have to be brought in, of which, in the case of Germany at the beginning of the ’thirties, Carl Schmitt actually had not a clue.

3. The “lesson” is in keeping with the Hitlerite Frederician cult and legitimating tradition and does not claim to be historically accurate. Although a digression that seems out of place, it has a certain significance for the time it was made. In the autumn of 1936, Hitler circulated a memorandum revealing his expansionist intentions. Then in 1937, the organization of the nation to serve those intentions began, a process which coincided with the rise of the SS state. In November of the same year the German media were ordered to keep silent about the preparations for a “total war.” Bearing all that in mind, Schmitt’s short digression reads more as a warning of danger than a point of military strategy.

4 . What is interesting here is his insistence on the existential essence of the phenomenon, which is consonant with his earlier definition of the political and at the same time renders the distinction between the professional soldier and the civilian meaningless. Moreover, total enmity with its implicit elimination of the adversary excludes any prospect of a peace treaty, as the war is to go on until one of the belligerents is annihilated.

5. Das Volk in Waffen (The Nation in Arms) happens to be the title of a work on total war by Colmar von der Goltz (1843–1916), published in 1883, and which is an important stepping stone in the reflection on modern warfare that led to Ludendorff’s book.

6. At the beginning of February 1938, Adolf Hitler became commander in chief of the German armed forces, appointing General Keitel his assistant at the head of the High Command of the Armed Forces, as the War Ministry was dissolved.

7. Eventually only the Soviet Union came closest to Carl Schmitt’s expectations, while the United States waged a fully-fledged three-dimensional war, dictated by its geographical position and sustained by its vast economic and technical resources most of which remained outside the battle zone.

8. For a broader treatment of the subject-matter see Carl Schmitt’s Land und Meer, which as Land and Sea is available in an English translation (Washington, D.C.: Plutarch Press, 1997).

9. The conflict between the civil society and the military in Germany was the subject-matter of a longer essay by Carl Schmitt, published in Hamburg in 1934 under the title Staatsgefüge und Zusammenbruch des Zweites Reiches. Der Sieg des Burgers über den Soldaten (The State Structure and the Collapse of the Second Reich. The Burghers’ Victory Over the Soldiers).

 

10. Röhm, the ideological soldier, had been eliminated in 1934, at the same time as the political soldiers, the Generals von Schleicher and von Bredow. Furthermore, as already mentioned in note 6 above, the War Ministry ceased to exist at the beginning of 1938, while the Commander in Chief, Field Marshal Werner von Blomberg was removed from his post for having compromised himself by marrying a “lady with a past,” and his prospective successor, General von Fritsch was forced to resign on a trumped-up Charge of homosexuality. At the same time, sixteen other generals were retired and forty-four were transferred. Göring who had been very active in carrying out this “integration” got for it only the title of field marshal, as Hitler kept for himself the supreme military command.

 


Article printed from Counter-Currents Publishing: http://www.counter-currents.com

URL to article: http://www.counter-currents.com/2011/07/total-enemy-total-state-and-total-war/

vendredi, 03 juin 2011

Urkultur 15: Moeller van den Bruck, conservadurismo revolucionario

URKULTUR Nº 15. MOELLER VAN DEN BRUCK: CONSERVADURISMO REVOLUCIONARIO

Ex: http://urkultur-imperium-europa.blogspot.com/ 

 

URKULTUR Nº 15.

MOELLER VAN DEN BRUCK:
CONSERVADURISMO REVOLUCIONARIO.

REVISTA ELECTRÓNICA:
Enlace con issuu.com

SUMARIO.

Editorial.
Arthur Moeller van den Bruck y la Nouvelle Droite
Sebastian J. Lorenz

Moeller van den Bruck: un rebelde conservador
Luca Leonello Rimbotti

Moeller van den Bruck: ¿un “precursor póstumo”?
Denis Goedel

Moeller y Dostoievski
Robert Steuckers

Moeller y la Kulturpessimismus de Weimar
Ferran Gallego

Moeller y los Jungkonservativen
Erik Norling

Moeller y Spengler
Ernesto Milá

Moeller y la Konservative Revolution
Keith Bullivant

Moeller van den Bruck
Alain de Benoist
 

mercredi, 20 avril 2011

Wandervögel: révolte contre l'esprit bourgeois

wandervoegel_frueher.jpgWandervögel, révolte contre l’esprit bourgeois

Ex: http://tpalsace.wordpress.com/

« C’est que le bivouac dérange l’état car il est manière de ne jamais être là où celui-ci nous attend »

Sylvain Tesson

Voila un sujet tellement vaste que nous ne savions par quel bout l’aborder. Nous oublierons donc la liste des nombreux protagonistes, instigateurs de l’aventure Wandervögel, et les différents courants de ce mouvement pour nous intéresser principalement à son éthique. Libre au lecteur de peaufiner le sujet en consultant les quelques livres ou sites internet qui lui sont consacrés.

Le mouvement Wandervögel, qui signifie « Les Oiseaux Migrateurs », est né en 1896 dans la banlieue berlinoise d’une révolte générale de jeunes étudiants contre les effets sociaux et esthétiques de l’industrialisation outrancière qui eut lieu en Europe à la fin du XIXème siècle. Ils avaient pour leitmotiv la volonté de redonner la priorité aux choses de l’esprit, à l’âme simple des gens du peuple, refusant l’esprit marchand et industriel et les calculs de la bourgeoisie. Partant du principe que la jeunesse ne peut pas rester prisonnière des cités enfumées de l’ère industrielle, le mouvement Wandervögel va, au fur et à mesure, prendre son essor dans toute l’Allemagne, faire sortir la jeunesse de sa cangue en l’emmenant en randonnée.

Même si les débuts de ce mouvement connurent une résistance de la part des autorités scolaires contre les excursions proposées, cette dernière fut vite balayée par les parents et des pédagogues moins classiques, conscients, grâce à leur lecture de Nietzsche et de Langbehn, que l’éducation doit quitter le trop théorique pour prendre la vie et le réel à bras le corps.

Très vite, les petites randonnées se transforment en véritables excursions de plusieurs semaines à travers l’Allemagne wilhelmienne et cette pédagogie non conventionnelle, ces expéditions, deviennent les symboles d’une révolte générale contre l’ordre établi (école, industrie, administration, etc.) Peu à peu, une discipline plus militaire s’instaure et des excursions plus aventureuses s’organisent, le mouvement commence également à critiquer l’ordre établi au nom d’une éthique de l’austérité (anti-consumériste) et veut renouer avec la tradition médiévale des « escholiers pérégrinant ».

Au programme des activités Wandervögels : soirées autour de feux de camp, visite de châteaux en ruines et de vestiges médiévaux, fêtes solsticiales, randonnées en montagne dans un esprit de romantisme, d’ enracinement dans l’histoire nationale et de culte des Lansquenets. Ces grandes idées ont été véhiculées par tous les mouvements de jeunesse idéalistes jusqu’à nos jours, y compris en France (cf Europe Jeunesse).

Dès lors, le mouvement va se diffuser dans toute l’Allemagne puis dans les Sudètes, à Prague et à Vienne et devient l’expression d’une jeunesse joyeuse, allègre, aimant la musique et créant ses propres chansons et mélodies (le chansonnier du mouvement, le Zupfgeigerhansl, créé par Hans Breuer, est toujours d’actualité.) En 1906, les premières sections féminines (Mädchenwandern) sont mises sur pied. Désormais, deux modes cohabiteront : la mixité et la masculinité exclusive.

Mais comment un mouvement, au départ groupusculaire et très localisé, a-t-il pu ainsi se propager et enflammer toute une jeunesse ? La raison est à la fois culturelle et métapolitique, déviant de la culture alternative qui se répandait en Allemagne à la même époque avec, en point d’orgue, les objectifs suivants : donner priorité à la vie et au dynamisme, recourir aux patrimoines germaniques (Edda), redécouvrir le romantisme en littérature; revaloriser les liens légués par le sang et le passé, penser écologisme (avant la lettre !), forger un socialisme dynamique, anti-bourgeois, éthique, susciter sans relâche la créativité chez les adolescents (des artistes et musiciens viennent ainsi animer les débats), enfin la notion de communauté (communauté de travail, de combat, d’étude, de survie, de loisirs…) est opposée à l’individualisme et au collectivisme.

L’apogée de l’aventure Wandervögel sera le grand rassemblement de la jeunesse allemande, tous groupes confondus, sur le sommet du Hoher Meissner en 1913. A partir de ce rassemblement, de nombreuses initiatives locales, étudiantes, lycéennes ou ouvrières se regroupent dans une structure souple et informelle qui reçoit le nom de Freideutsche Jugend.

En 1914, la jeunesse se porte volontaire en masse pour la Grande Randonnée (Die Große Fahrt) c’est-à-dire la Grande Guerre, qui se terminera tragiquement pour la plupart: des 12 000 Wandervögel d’avant-guerre, 7000 ne reviendront jamais des champs de bataille. Trois valeurs éthiques fondamentales animaient alors ces jeunes volontaires: l’absence d’intérêts (matériels et personnels), l’altruisme et la camaraderie. Mais après 1918, le mouvement connaît des scissions : il y a une incompréhension entre les jeunes soldats revenus du front, pleins de désillusions, d’amertume et de lassitude face aux discours trop idéalistes, et l’esprit de la nouvelle génération qui n’a pas eu le temps de connaître le front et l’idéalise outrancièrement et hors de propos.

Les différents leaders qui s’ensuivront après la Grande Guerre n’auront de cesse de préserver les valeurs et l’esprit du mouvement initial et maintiendront l’effectif de 10 000 à 12 000 membres, (dont les trois quarts avaient moins de 18 ans), au sein de différents courants.

Le mouvement Wandervögel sera finalement interdit par le régime hitlérien en 1933, jugé trop marginal et trop autonome. Il renaîtra péniblement après la Seconde Guerre mondiale, pour essaimer ensuite, lentement, dans différents pays dont la France (il existe en effet une ramification Wandervögel en Normandie).

L’Allemagne abrite aujourd’hui encore la branche la plus importante en nombre de membres du mouvement (environ 5 000) dont le devise demeure « devenir mûr et rester pur ». Ces jeunes ont pour impératif la redécouverte du terroir régional/national et le ré-enracinement, bel objectif quand on sait que, de nos jours, la majorité d’entre eux aspire uniquement à faire de l’argent, se vautrer dans un confort petit bourgeois tout en se noyant dans la masse par l’uniformisation tant vestimentaire que du mode de pensée. L’instruction ? Très peu pour la nouvelle jeunesse qui est par contre experte dans l’art de manier le joystick et ne rêve que de voyages de masse où tout est prémâché (vive le Club Me(r)d !). … O Tempora, O Mores…

Source : Robert Steuckers – Synergies Européennes – 1998 & Wikipédia

Pour en savoir plus, nous vous recommandons la lecture de :

« Wandervögel, Révolte contre l’Esprit Bourgeois » de Karl Hoffkes, paru aux éditions ACE en 2001

« Pèlerin entre deux Mondes » de Walter Flex, également aux éditions ACE

« Une Histoire des Mouvements de Jeunesse Allemands (1896-1933) : du Wandervögel à la Dissolution des Ligues par le Régime National-Socialiste » de Michel Froissart

« Une Fille qui voulait Vivre Autrement » de Norgard Kohlhagen, aux éditions ACE

« Croyez-en mon expérience, vous trouverez quelque chose de plus au milieu des bois que dans les livres. Les arbres et les rochers vous enseigneront ce que vous ne pourrez apprendre d’aucun maître »

Bernard de Clairvaux

dimanche, 17 avril 2011

Thomas Mann: Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen - über die Wiedersprüche der demokratischen Gesinnungsethik

       

Thomas Mann: Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen - Über die Wiedersprüche der demokratischen Gesinnungsethik

Geschrieben von: Prof. Dr. Paul Gottfried (Gastautor)

Ex: http://www.blauenarzisse.de/   

 

Thomas_Mann_1937.jpgEine Vielfalt von bunten, einander verwandten Themen bilden Die Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen, die Thomas Mann zwischen 1915 und 1918 zusammentrug und vor Kriegsende herausbrachte. Der Erstteil des Werkes erwähnt, dass der Schriftsteller ein schon angesetztes „Künstlerwerk“ beiseite schob, nämlich den Zauberberg, um sich einem zeitdringlicheren Auftrag zuzuwenden. Eine Kontinuität erschliesst sich zwischen den letzten Szenen des Romans, als Hans Castorp sich kriegsmäßig gekleidet auf dem Schlachtfeld herumtummelt, und dem tragenden Thema der Betrachtungen, die eine Verteidigung des Deutschtums in einem folgenschweren Krieg darbieten.

Als Universitätsstudent wurde mir eingehämmert, dass beides dieselbe antidemokratische Streitlust bloßlegt, die den Krieg angestossen hatte. Obendrein ist ein gradliniger Verbindungsgang vermeintlich aufzuspüren, der von Manns Empfehlung des „deutschen Sonderwegs“ in den Betrachtungen bis auf die Nazi-Gewaltherrschaft hinüberleitet. Das wurde in den relativ beschaulichen und unparteiischen USA im Jahre 1963 gelehrt. Man kann sich vorstellen, wie dröhnend dieselbe Mahnung im heutigen antifaschistischen Deutschland ertönen muss.

Der deutsche Sonderweg gegen die jakobinisch-westliche Versuchung

Dazu gehören ein paar abgrenzende Bemerkungen. Wie andere Ehrenverteidiger auf beiden Seiten versuchte Mann im Verlauf der Kriegsaktion seine Heimat vor der Propaganda ihrer Opponenten zu bewahren. Da die auf der anderen Seite ausgerichteten Polemiker wie Lord Bryce und Henri Bergson, sich als Verfechter der westlichen Demokratie mit glänzendem Erfolg ausgegeben hatten, entschied sich Mann dafür, Widerstand zu leisten und Deutschland als eine konservative, volksgemeinschaftliche Kultur vorzustellen. Im Gegensatz zu ihren Widersachern kämpften die Deutschen und ihre Verbündeten nicht für eine zivilisatorische Sendung sondern gegen die Auslöschung ihrer Lebensweise und die Verdrängung „des deutschen Wesens“ durch ein eindringende Fremdlehre, sei es das Jakobinertum oder ein getarntes Römertum im revolutionären Gewand.

Vorrangig ist die deutsche Kriegssache als ein defensiver Einsatz auszulegen, auch wenn die Deutschen gezwungen wurden, gegen die Alliierten den ersten Schlag zu richten. Auf der internationalen Ebene war es schwer, einen anderen Kurs einzuschlagen. Schon vor den Ansätzen seines Kunstwerks scharten sich Manns verhasste „Zivilisationsliteraten“ in neutralen Ländern zusammen, den anderen voran, die spanischen Literaten, José Ortega y Gasset und Azorin, um für die „liberalen Streitmächte“ die Werbetrommel zu schlagen.

250px-thomas_mann_betrachtungen_eines_unpolitischen_1918.jpgWar das deutsche Kaiserreich fortschrittlich?

Wenngleich Hermann Cohen in seiner Kampfschrift Deutschtum und Judentum (1917) die Deutschen als Vehikel einer fortschrittlichen Weltzivilization schilderte, muss zugegeben werden, dass die Alliierten die Fortschrittsargumentation wirksamer für sich vereinnahmt hatten. Zum Ausgleich dieses propagandistischen Vorsprungs wäre den deutschen Eliten geboten gewesen, eine aufklärungsfreundlichere Miene vorzuzeigen. Bestimmt vermochten die Deutschen und Österreicher ihre modernisierenden und freiheitlichen Errungenschaften hervorzuheben. Es hätte gelohnt, diesen Vorzug auszuspielen, um den Deutschfeindlichen einen Strich durch die Rechnung zu machen. Mann und seine Mitkämpfer gerieten somit auf den Holzweg, als sie zum Glauben gelangten, dass die deutsche Rolle als Kulturhüter auf Entfernung von mehr als dreißig Meilen von Deutschland Anklang finden würde. Die Auseinandersetzung der Deutung von „Kultur“ und „Zivilisation“ fochten sie so in kultureller Abgeschlossenheit aus.

Auch bemerkbar sind Manns vielmalige Hinweise in den ersten sechzig Seiten auf Scheinpazifisten und auf die verachteten Kosmopoliten, die Deutschlands Geisteskräfte schwächen. Anvisiert ist vor allem Manns Bruder Heinrich, mit dem er damals zerstritten war. Anfang der Kriegsereignisse erklärte sich der linksgesinnte Heinrich für neutral, und wie der französische Romanautor Romain Rolland setzte er sich für eine Einstellung der Kriegshandlung von der Schweiz aus ein. Thomas Mann befand den „widersetzlichen“ Bruder als Fürsprecher für die Alliierten (nicht ganz grundlos). Die geringschätzenden Verweise sind nicht leicht zu kontextualisieren, ohne auf den biographischen Hintergrund Bezug zu nehmen.

Thomas Mann mit seinen Betrachtungen auf dem Holzweg: Er selbst schuf damit etwas Fremdartiges

Eine durchdringende Zwiespältigkeit zeigt auch der Text, die ebensostark auf die Befindlichkeit des Autors zurückverweist. Es bleibt im Schwanken, dass sein „Künstlerwerk“ dem deutschen Gemeinnutz dienen könnte. Mann grübelt vor sich hin, ob seine Wortkunst nicht eine unterwühlende Gabe darstellt, da sie kein wahrhaftiges Erzeugnis des „deutschen Geistes“ hergibt. Im Unterschied zu der deutschen Veranlagung zum Dichtwerk und zu musikalischen Leistungen befasst er sich mit einer „undeutschen“ Kunstform, der Schriftstellerei und erst recht mit französisch anmutenden Novellen und Romanen. Obwohl Mann deswegen nicht Abbitte tut, erscheint es (ihm vielleicht selbst zu jener Zeit), dass, was er schafft, fremdartig aussieht.

Als „Eideshelfer“, um seine patriotische Sache besser zu begründen, griff er zum Russen und Slavophil Dostojewski, der die Festigkeit und Rechtschaffenheit des deutschen Wesens pries. Angesichts dieser Hinweise wird es schwer, den Eindruck zu verfehlen, dass Mann den russischen Schriftsteller trotz seiner angegebenen Vorbehalte den Deutschen gegenüber zutiefst bewundert. Zu dem Dreigestirn von Nietzsche, Schopenhauer und Wagner, deren schöpferischer Ertrag Mann mitgeprägt hat und die er auch als Zeugen zur deutschen Größe zuzieht, kehrt er Dostojewski zum selben Zweck hervor.

Versteckte Slavo- und Frankophilie: Mann zwischen Faszination und Erschrecken über das Fremde

Es fällt ebenso in den Sinn, dass Mann von der französischen Schriftstellerei und besonders von Gustave Flaubert begeistert war. Den allerzwingendesten Beweis ergibt der lange Passus im Zauberberg, in welchem Mann die Zärtlichkeiten des Hans Castorp seiner Geliebten gegenüber en français zum Ausdruck bringt. Mann machte daraus keinen Hehl, dass er den französischen Autoren bis zum Gebrauch ihrer eigenartigen französischen Ausdrucksform Ehre zollte. Hinzu kommt, dass der Gro?teil der Betrachtungen das deutschpatriotische Leitmotiv nebensächlich berühren. Sie behandeln wahlweise das europäische Literatentum oder Manns’ Eigenschriften.

Die aufsehenerregendsten Seiten sind die ungefähr ersten dreißig, in denen Mann aus allen Rohren feuernd das Deutschtum gegen die Westernisierung hochhält. Der Verfasser hält sich für „unpolitisch“, indem er die Politisierung mit dem Aufmarsch des Kosmopolitanismus gleichsetzt. Im Gegensatz zu seinen deutschfeindlichen Gegnern verrät er keineswegs einen unweigerlich „politisierten Geist“. Er beschützt sein Vaterland nicht lediglich als Mittel, um eine demokratische „Weltbekehrung“ zu vervollständigen, sondern weil sie von außen bedroht ist.

Der Pazifismus der gesinnungsethischen Literaten

Zeitrelevanter ist die von Mann getroffene Unterscheidung von „Gesinnungsmilitarismus“ und „Zweckmilitarismus“. In Abgrenzung zu dem preußischen Dienstadel mit ihrer miltärstolzen Gesittung schlagen die bewaffneten Advokaten der Zivilisationsdemokratie empört auf ihre ideologischen Gegner los. Sie stürmen mit einfallenden Armeen nicht bloß, um den Feind zurückzustoßen, sondern gegen das Böse eine Weltmission durchzuführen: „Wir beobachten da eine Art von Irrationalismus, der in Wahrheit ein vergeistigter Rationalismus ist und darin besteht, dass man den Krieg für ein Gottesgericht erklärt.“ Die Zivilisationsliteraten, die für diese bevorzugte Kriegsart eintreten, sind keineswegs gegen das Vergießen des Blutes: Diese „Menschenliebe ist nicht blutscheu; so gut wie das literarische Wort gehört die Guillotine zu ihren Werkzeugen.“

Ebensowenig sind die erklärten Pazifisten in Deutschland grundsätzlich gegen die Gewalt: „Sein Verhältnis zu diesem Krieg schwankt zwischen humanitärem Abscheu und größter Bewunderung für die soldatischen Leistungen der Feinde.“ Umso kriegslustiger ist der Scheinpazifist, der der mit Deutschland im Widerstreit stehenden Seite beitrat. „Er ist entzückt von den Leistungen der Zivilisationsmächte, er bewundert ihr Kriegsgerät, ihre Stahlplatten, Betongräbern, Fliegerpfeile, Erkrasit- und Stickgasbomben, ohne sich zu fragen,wie sich das alles mit Edelschwäche verträgt, und während er dieselben Dinge auf der deutschen Seite ekelerregend findet. Eine französische Kanone scheint ihm verehrungswürdig, eine deutsche verbrecherisch, abstoßend und idiotisch.“ Wie die Entente-Minister und -Journalisten fühlt sich der antideutsche Gemütsdemokrat nicht bemüßigt zu fragen, warum die andere Seite „gerüstet, glänzend gerüstet“ sei, wenn er uns vormachen will, dass es nur die Deutschen sind, die mit ihrer soldatischen Überlieferung über Heerscharen und Kriegsmittel verfügen.

Der Krieg für die gute Sache, der auch heute noch geführt wird

Mann ging mit den Fahnenträgern des demokratischen Internationalismus ins Gericht, ehe die amerikanische Regierung das „Junkertum“ zu bekriegen anfing. Mann rückte das Scheinwerferlicht auf das Jakobinertum und die Freimauererei, denen der französischen Feind und seine ausländischen Schwärmer verschrieben seien. In seiner Schilderung weist er jedoch über das Nahziel hinaus und trifft die heutzutage allgegenwärtige menschenrechtliche Ideologie. Beim Kriegsausbruch musste es einem Unbefangenen dämmern, dass beide Seiten ihr Scherflein beitrugen, um die Lawine loszutreten. Jedoch deutete Mann auf ein Novum hin, als er eine Art Militarismus umschrieb, der mit traditonsverbundenen Gesellschaften nichts zu tun hat. Vielmehr haftet diese Haltung spätmodernen, ausgesprochen demokratischen Ländern an, die der ganzen Welt ihre menschenfreudige Gesinnung zurschaustellen wollen.

Im Vergleich mit den alten Monarchien steht das Neumodell im Aufwind. Von den geschlagenen Mittelmächten sich abhebend, gaben sich die siegreichen Demokraten als Humanisten aus, die im Zeichen einer weltweiten Friedensmission gekämpft haben. Aus ihrem Schlag stammen die Wilsonianer und noch zeitgeistiger die Neokonservativen, die militärische Einsätze verkünden, um wesensfremde Gesellschaften zu „vermenschlichen“. Mann erhob die Fragen, warum die Humanisten der Friedsamkeit wohlgerüstet auftreten und warum der vermutlich allerletzte Kampf für die demokratische Ruhe zu immer verbisseneren Kriegsaktionen hinüberführt. Und natürlich werden die Literaten aufgebracht, wenn versucht wird, die Stellung der Antidemokraten klarzukriegen. Man wittert bei solchen Klarmachungen den Hauch einer schandhaften Aufrechnung. Die wehrhaften Demokraten gereuen sich keineswegs, dass ein Bombenkrieg im Zweiten Weltkrieg gegen Zivilisten geführt wurde. Blutige Ungeheurlichkeiten sind hinzunehmen, wenn eine demokratische Weltverwandlung den Kämpfern vorschwebt. Thomas Mann traf in seinen (später von ihm bedauerten und zurückgezogenen) Betrachtungen den Nagel auf den Kopf, als er die harte Anwendung von Zwangsmitteln kurz- und mittelfristig als die zweckmilitäristischen Kosten darstellt, die eine friedlich-demokratische Weltordnung zustande bringen sollten.

mardi, 05 avril 2011

Carl Schmitt, the Inquisition, and Totalitarianism

Carl Schmitt, the Inquisition, and Totalitarianism

Arthur VERSLUIS

Ex: http://www.esoteric.msu.edu/

The work of Carl Schmitt, on its face, presents us with enigmas; it is esoteric, arcane, words that recur both in scholarship about Schmitt and in his own writings.  Jan-Wenner Müller observes that Schmitt “employed what has been called a kind of philosophical ‘double talk,’ shifting the meaning of concepts central to his theory and scattering allusions and false leads throughout his work.”[1]  And Müller goes on to remark about Heinrich Meier’s work on Schmitt that ultimately Meier too “lapsed into the kind of double talk, allusiveness, and high-minded esoteric tone so typical of Strauss and, to a lesser extent, Schmitt.”[2]  Indeed, Schmitt himself writes, in The Leviathan in the State Theory of Thomas Hobbes that “like all great thinkers of his times, Hobbes had a taste for esoteric cover-ups.  He said about himself that now and then he made ‘overtures,’ but that he revealed his thoughts only in part and that he acted as people do who open a window only for a moment and closely it quickly for fear of a storm.”[3]  This passage could certainly be applied to Schmitt himself, whose work both makes direct reference to Western esoteric traditions, and itself has esoteric dimensions.  These esoteric allusions and dimensions of Schmitt’s thought are, in fact, vitally important to understanding his work, but the question remains: what place do they have in it?

 

schmitt.jpg

 

Carl Schmitt and Early Modern Western Esotericism

   Much has been made of the exoteric-esoteric distinction in the thought of Leo Strauss.  Some authors suggested that a Straussian esotericism guided the neonconservative cabal within the Bush II administration, after all a secretive group that disdained public opinion and that was convinced of its own invincible rectitude even in the face of facts.[4] It is true that Strauss himself distinguished between an esoteric and an exoteric political philosophy.   In perhaps his most open statement, Strauss writes, coyly, of how “Farabi’s Plato eventually replaces the philosopher-king who rules openly in the virtuous city, by the secret kingship of the philosopher who, being a ‘perfect man,’ precisely because he is an ‘investigator,’ lives privately as a member of an imperfect society which he tries to humanize within the limits of the possible.”[5]  Strauss’s “secret kingship of the philosopher” is, by its nature, esoteric; as in Schmitt’s, there is in Strauss’s work a sense of the implicit superiority of the esoteric political philosopher.

    But in fact those who are searching for esotericism have much more to find in the work of Schmitt, not least because Schmitt’s references to classical Western esotericism are quite explicit.  Schmitt refers directly to Kabbalism and to Rosicrucianism, to Freemasonry, and, most importantly for our purposes, to Gnosticism.  It is quite important, if one is to better understand Schmitt, to investigate the meanings of these explicitly esoteric references in his work.  While there are allusions to such classical Western esoteric currents as Jewish Kabbalah, Rosicrucianism, and Freemasonry scattered throughout Schmitt’s writings, those references are concentrated in Schmitt’s 1938 The Leviathan in the State Theory of Thomas Hobbes.  There are a number of reasons why Western esoteric currents should form a locus in this particular work, among them the fact that many of these traditions (notably, Rosicrucianism, Freemasonry, and Christian theosophy) emerged precisely in the early modern period of Hobbes himself and so correctly, as Schmitt recognized, represent historical context as well as contribute to Schmitt’s larger argument.

   But what is Schmitt’s larger argument regarding these esoteric currents?  There is little to indicate, at first glance, that Schmitt is derogating these esoteric currents—even the references to the Kabbalistic interpretation of leviathan, which come on the wake of Schmitt’s notorious 1936 conference on Judaism and jurisprudence, are not immediately recognizable as anti-semitic.  Schmitt’s own overview of his argument is instructive.  He summarizes the first chapter as covering the “Christian-theological and Jewish-cabbalistic interpretations” of the symbol of leviathan, and “the possibilities of a restoration of the symbol by Hobbes.”[6]  A restoration indicates a prior fall: this is our first clue.  Schmitt’s treatise on Hobbesian state theory is also an occasion for Schmitt’s diagnosis of modernity as socio-political decline, and in this decline, (in Schmitt’s view), esoteric currents played a part.  Hence he references the seminal twentieth-century French esoterist René Guénon’s La Crise du monde moderne (1927), and specifically Guénon’s observation that the collapse of medieval civilization into early modernity by the seventeenth century could not have happened without hidden forces operating in the background.[7]

   Both Schmitt and Guénon came from a Catholic background and perspective—and Guénon’s broader thesis was that the advent of early modernity represented one stage in a much larger tableau of decline in which modernity (representing the kali yuga or final age) would conclude in the appearance of the Antichrist and the end of the world.  In this Guénonian tableau of decline, the emergence of individualistic Protestantism represented an important step downward from the earlier corporate unity of Catholicism, and a similar perspective inheres in Schmitt’s work, no doubt why he alludes to Guénon in the first place.  Hence, in the important Chapter V of Leviathan, Schmitt refers to the “separation of inner from outer and public from private” that emerged during the early modern period, and in particular to “secret societies and secret orders, Rosicrucians, freemasons, illuminates, mystics and pietists, all kinds of sectarians, the many ‘silent ones in the land,’ and above all, the restless spirit of the Jew who knew how to exploit the situation best until the relation of public and private, deportment and disposition was turned upside down.”[8]

   At this point, we can see Schmitt’s perspective is implicitly critical of the subjectification and inward or contemplative turn characteristic of those who travel “the secret road” “that leads inward.”  He opposes the split between private spiritual life and public life, which Schmitt associates with Judaism as well as with Protestantism and the profusion of esoteric groups during this period—and by implication, affirms a unified, corporate inner and outer life that is characteristic of Catholicism.  Schmitt remarks that “as differently constituted as were the Masonic lodges, conventicles, synagogues, and literary circles, as far as their political attitudes were concerned, they all displayed by the eighteenth century their enmity toward the leviathan elevated to a symbol of state.”[9]  He sees Protestantism and the variety of esoteric groups or currents during the early modern period as symptomatic—like Guénon, he sees the emergence of modernity as a narrative of cultural disintegration. 

   Like Hobbes himself, Schmitt is pessimistic about the human condition.  Still, in Schmitt’s view, Hobbes was not proposing that human beings flee from the state of nature into a monstrous state leviathan, but rather was arguing for total state power only insofar as it guaranteed protection and security.  Hence, Schmitt writes, one’s obedience to the state is payment for protection, and when protection ceases, so too does the obligation to obey.[10]  The leviathan serves to diagnose the artificial, gigantic mechanism of the modern state, and to symbolize that state as an intermediate stage that can restrain or postpone the larger decline that modernity represents.  In Leviathan, Schmitt isn’t extolling the leviathan state or totalism, but rather coyly stops short—even though it is clear that he seeks a political alternative to the split between inner and outer life represented by the inward turn of esoteric groups and individuals, and by the subjectification represented by Romanticism during the early modern period. Schmitt belongs to the world of jurisprudence, to the realm of weighing and deciding, and one can see this in his treatment of esoteric groups, in which he acknowledges their differences—but he clearly has ‘placed’ them in his larger narrative as indicative of the fragmentation represented by modernity.

   It becomes clearer, then, how Schmitt could have seen in National Socialism a secular alternative to modernity.  Fascism represented for him, at least potentially, the re-unification of inner and outer life, a kind of modern re-unification of the mythic and spiritual with the outer public life.  It at first seemed to conform to the Hobbesian notion that in exchange for obedience, one receives protection from the state; it represented a new form of corporatism as an alternative to the socio-political disintegration represented by parliamentary democracy in the Weimar era; and it even offered an apparent unity of esoteric and exoteric through its use of symbolism and mythology in the service of the state.  But to the extent that he allied with the Nazis, Schmitt was consciously siding with the Inquisitors, and with totalistic state power.  In retrospect and by comparison, perhaps the “secret road” inward as represented by eighteenth-century esotericism was not quite so bad as all that.  Yet to understand more completely Schmitt in relation to the esoteric, we must turn to a subject he treats somewhat more explicitly: Gnosticism.

 Carl Schmitt and Gnosticism

   Schmitt writes that oppositions between friend and enemy are “of a spiritual sort, as is all man’s existence.”[11]  In Politische Theologie II, he writes that Tertullian is the prototype of the theological possibilities of specific judicial thinking, and refers to him as the “jurist Tertullian.”[12]  Heinrich Meier discusses Schmitt’s indebtedness to Tertullian and in fact remarks that “Tertullian’s guiding principle We are obliged to something not because it is good but because God commands it accompanies Schmitt through all the turns and vicissitudes of his long life.”[13]  What is it about Tertullian that Schmitt found so fascinating that he returned to his work again and again?  Divine authority as presented by Tertullian divides men: obedience to divine authority divides the orthodox from the heretics, the “friends of God” from the “enemies of God,” and the political theologian from the secular philosopher.  Here we are reminded of perhaps Tertullian’s most famous outcry: “What then does Athens have to do with Jerusalem?  What does the Academy have to do with the Church?  What do the heretics have to do with Christians?”[14]  Tertullian was, of course, a fierce enemy of Gnosticism, and his works, especially De praescriptione haereticorum, belong to the genre of heresiophobic literature. 

   Now with Tertullian’s antignosticism in mind, we should turn to the afterword of Schmitt’s Politische Theologie II, in which “gnostische Dualismus” figures prominently.  There, Schmitt remarks that Gnostic dualism places a God of Love, strange to this world, in opposition to the lord and creator of this evil world, the two conflicting in a kind of “cold war.”[15]  This he compares to the Latin motto noted by Goethe in Dichtung und Wahrheit, “nemo contra deum nisi deus ipse”—only a god can oppose a god.[16]  With these references, Schmitt is alluding to the Gnostic dualism attributed to the Gnostic Marcion, who reputedly posited two Gods, one a true hidden God, the other an ignorant creator God. 

  What is important here, for our purposes, is the underlying theme of heresy and orthodoxy.  As is well-known, for Schmitt, especially from Der Begriff des Politischen onward, the political world is defined in terms of the well-known Schmittean distinction between friend and foe.  But not so often remarked is that this friend-foe distinction can be traced directly back to the anti-heresiology of Tertullian.  Tertullian devoted a considerable number of pages to the refutation of Marcion in five books, and in particular attacked what he perceived as Marcionitic docetism.  In “Against the Valentinians,” Tertullian attacked “certain heretics who denied the reality of Christ’s flesh,” first among these heretics being, again, Marcion.[17]  For Tertullian, historicity is paramount: the docetic view that Christ did not come in the flesh but belongs to another world—this is unbearable to him.  Tertullian devotes hundreds of pages to detailing and attacking the works of those he designates heretical, and (perhaps ironically, given Tertullian’s venomous diatribes) compares them to scorpions full of venom.

   So virulent is Tertullian in his hatred of those he perceives as heretics that he goes so far as to imagine that “There will need to be carried on in heaven persecution [of Christians] even, which is the occasion of confession or denial.”[18]  Here we begin to see the dynamic that impels Tertullian’s hatred of those he designates as heretical.  On the one hand, Tertullian belongs in the context of Roman persecution of Christians as a whole—but on the other hand, he in turn carries on an intellectual persecution of heretics whom he sees as scorpions, that is, as vermin.[19]  Thus we see Tertullian’s perception of himself as defender of the historicist orthodox, the strength of whose identity comes on the one hand, from affirmation of faith in the historical Christ against the Romans, on the other hand, from rejection of the Gnostics who seek to transcend history and who affirm, for example, a docetic Christ.  Tertullian’s very identity exists by definition through negation—he requires the persecution of “heretics.”  Tertullian is the veritable incarnation of a friend/enemy dynamic, and he exists and defines himself entirely through such a dynamic.  We can even go further, and suggest that the background of persecution by the Romans in turn inevitably impels the persecuted historicist Christians to themselves become persecutors of those whom they deem heretics—a dynamic that continues throughout the subsequent history of Christianity (from the medieval condemnation of Eckhart right through the various forms of early modern and modern anti-mysticism within Protestant and Catholic Christianity alike).[20]  Tertullian, for all his fulminations against what he imagines as Gnostic dualism, is in fact himself the ultimate dualist [or duelist].  He cannot exist without historical enemies, without persecutors and without those whom he can persecute in his turn.

   Thus we begin to see the reasons for Schmitt’s endorsement of Tertullian as the paradigmatic jurist theologian and political theologian.  For Tertullian, Christ’s historicity is paramount—exactly as is the case with Schmitt himself.  In Nomos of the Earth, Schmitt proposes the historical importance within Christianity of the concept of the katechon, or “restrainer” that makes possible Christian empires whose center was Rome, and that “meant the historical power to restrain the appearance of the Antichrist and the end of the present eon.”[21] The concept of the katechon is derived from an obscure Pauline verse: II Thessalonians 2.6-7, “And you know what is restraining him now so that he may be revealed in his time.  For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only he who now restrains it will do so until he is out of the way.”  This passage is in the larger context of a Pauline warning against the “activity of Satan” among those who are “sent” a “strong delusion” by God himself [!] “so that all may be condemned who did not believe the truth (II.2.11).”  The katechon represents, for Schmitt, an “historical concept” of “potent historical power” that preserves the “tremendous historical monolith” of a Christian empire because it “holds back” nothing less than the eschatological end of history.[22] The Pauline context in Thessalonians can be read to support institutional Christianity as a prosecutorial power. In any case, the katechon makes intellectually possible (in Schmitt’s view) the emergence of the Christian empire oriented toward Rome and itself now a juridical, prosecutorial or persecutorial imperial power within history. 

   Now I am not arguing that Schmitt’s work—and in particular his emphasis on the role of antagonism and hostility as defining politics, nor his emphasis on historicity—derives only from Tertullian.  Rather, I hold that Schmitt refers to Tertullian because he finds in him a kindred spirit, and what is more, that there really is a continuity between Schmitt’s thought and the anti-heretical writings of Tertullian.  Both figures require enemies.  Schmitt goes so far as to write, in The Concept of the Political, that without the friend-enemy distinction “political life would vanish altogether.”[23]  And in the afterword to Political Theology II, Schmitt—in the very passages in which he refers to Gnosticism and in particular to dualism—ridicules modern “detheologization” [Die Enttheologisierung] and “depoliticization” [Die Entpolitisierung] characteristic of a liberal modernity based upon production, consumption, and technology.  What Schmitt despises about depoliticizing or detheologizing is the elimination of conflict and the loss thereby of the agonistic dimension of life without which, just as Tertullian wrote, the juridical trial  and judging of humanity cannot take place.  Tertullian so insists upon the primacy of persecution/prosecution that he projects it even into heaven itself.  Schmitt restrains himself to the worldly stage, but he too insists upon conflict as the basis of the political and of history; and both are at heart dualists.

   Why, after all, was Schmitt so insistent upon what he called “political theology”?  In the very term, there is a uneasy conjunction of the worldly sphere of politics with what usually would be construed as the otherworldly sphere of theology.  But Tertullian represents the forced convergence of these two spheres—in some central respects, Tertullian symbolizes the point at which Christianity shifted from the persecuted by Rome to the persecutor from Rome, the shift from Christ’s saying that His Kingdom is not of this world, to the assertion of Christendom as a political-theological entity and of the possibility of Christian empire—that is, of the compression together and perhaps even the merger of politics and theology.  This forced convergence of politics and theology could not take place without the absolute insistence upon an historical Christ and on the paramount importance of the horizontal, that is, of history itself (as opposed to and indeed, founded on the explicit rejection of the transcendence of history or of the vertical dimensions represented by gnosis).

   The work of Schmitt belongs to the horizontal realm of dualistic antagonism that requires the antinomies of friends and enemies and perpetual combat.  Schmitt is a political and later geopolitical theorist whose political theology represents, not an opening into the transcendence of antagonism, but rather an insistence upon antagonism and combat as the foundation of politics that reflects Tertullian’s emphasis on antagonism toward heretics as the foundation of theology.  When Schmitt writes, in The Concept of the Political, that “a theologian ceases to be a theologian when he . . . no longer distinguishes between the chosen and the nonchosen,” we begin to see how deeply engrained is his fundamental dualism.[24]  This dualism is bound up with Schmitt’s insistence upon “the fundamental theological dogma of the evilness of the world and man” and his adamant rejection of those who deny original sin, i.e., “numerous sects, heretics, romantics, and anarchists.”[25]  Thus “the high points of politics are simultaneously the moments in which the enemy is, in concrete clarity, recognized as the enemy.”[26]  The enemy, here, just as in Tertullian’s work, is those deemed to be heretical.

   Here we should recognize a certain irony.  Tertullian, we will recall, railed against the Gnostics because they supposedly were dualists and because some of them reputedly held that humanity was deluded and that the world was evil.[27]  Yet much of mainstream Christianity, like Tertullian himself, itself came to espouse a fierce dualism and an insistence on the evil nature of humanity and of the world.  Even when it is clear, as in the case of Valentinus, that his thought includes the transcendence of dualism, Tertullian cannot bring himself to recognize this transcendence because his mind works on the level of the juridical only—he is compelled to attack; indeed, his entire worldview is constructed around those whom he rejects, ridicules, refuses to recognize as in any way legitimate—around those whom he sees as his enemies.  And this fierce dualism, this need for that which is construed as heretical, as the enemy, is exactly what Schmitt’s work also reflects. 

   As perhaps Tertullian once did, Schmitt too came up against the command of Christ to “love your enemies” (Matt. 5.44; Luke 6.27).  His interpretation of it is befitting a wily attorney—he takes it only on a personal level.  “No mention is made of the political enemy,” Schmitt writes.  “Never in the thousand-year struggle between Christians and Moslems did it occur to a Christian to surrender rather than to defend Europe,” he continues, and the commandment of Christ in his view “certainly does not mean that one should love and support the enemies of one’s own people.”[28]  Thus, Christ can be interpreted as accepting political antagonism and even war—while forgiving one’s personal enemies along the way.  Schmitt conveniently overlooks the fact that nowhere in the New Testament can Christ be construed as endorsing, say, political war against Rome—His Kingdom is not of this world.  Is it really so easy to dismiss the power of the injunction to love one’s enemies?

   There is more.  For Schmitt’s distinction between the personal and the political here makes possible what his concept of the katechon also does: Christian empire.  Here we see the exact point at which the Christian message can be seen to shift from the world-transmuting one of forgiving one’s enemies to the worldly one that leads inexorably toward the very imperial authority and power against which Christ himself stood as an alternative exemplar.  “My Kingdom is not of this world,” Christ said.  But somehow a shift took place, and suddenly Christ was being made to say that his kingdom is of this world, that rather than forgiving one’s enemies, one should implacably war against them.  Thus we have the emergence of Christian empire.  But the collapse of feudalism and of the medieval polis, and the emergence of modernity ultimately meant the de-politicization of the world—the absence of enemies, of heretics, of those against whom others can define themselves—none other than the cultural vacuum represented by technological-consumerist modern society.

 

 Conclusions

   And so we again reach the argument that I began to suggest in “Voegelin’s Antignosticism and the Origins of Totalitarianism,” but from a very different angle.  There, I argued that rather than attempting (like Voegelin and his acolytes) to blame the victims—the Gnostics and ‘heretics’—for the advent of modernity and for totalitarianism, it might be more reasonable to take a closer look at the phenomenon of the Inquisition and of historicist Christianity (particularly millennialist Christianity) for the origins of modern secular chiliasm.  After all, it wasn’t the heretics or the Gnostics who burned people at the stake, or created institutional torture chambers, or who slaughtered the Albigensians.  Rather, it was the institutional church that did this. Our analysis of Schmitt’s work has brought us, unexpectedly, back to the same general terrain.

   It is worth remarking, however unpleasant it might be to admit it, that as Mao or Pol Pot did when their policies meant the deaths of millions, so too the Church itself did when it burned at the stake the great mystic Marguerite Porete, or the brilliant author Giordano Bruno and many others for heresy—all of these institutional murderers believed at least in part that they killed people for their own good, or at least, for the better good, and in order to realize some better state upon earth in the near future.  How is it that the medieval Church was so unwilling to allow the Albigensians their freedom and their own traditions?  Why was it so impossible to regard them as Christian brethren and not as enemies to be slaughtered?  By slaughtering those deemed heretics, one hastens the historical millennium of Christ’s kingdom upon earth, or so the logic goes.  Secular chiliasm in the technological modern world like that analyzed by Pellicani is only a more extensive and brutal form of the same phenomenon, whose origins are to be found in historicist Christianity, not among those victims of it that were deemed heretical.[29]

   Schmitt’s work belongs to the juridical tradition of Tertullian and he inherits Tertullian’s need for enemies, for heretics by which one can define oneself.  Thus it was not too difficult for Schmitt to organize the 1936 conference to weigh the “problem” of “the Jews”—he was predisposed toward the division of “us” and “them” by the triumphant Western historicist Christian tradition that peremptorily and with the persistence of two thousand years, rejected “heretics” who espoused gnosis and, all too frequently, rejected even the possibility of transcending dualism.  Indeed, Schmitt’s work allows us to see more clearly the historical current that was operative in National Socialism as well as in Mussolini’s Fascist party—and that brought Schmitt to open his 1936 conference remarks with the words of Hitler: “In that I defend myself against the Jews, I struggle to do the work of the Lord.”[30]  The murder of heretics has a theological origin; the murder of secular opponents has a political origin—but often the two are not so far apart, and so one could even speak of political theology in which to be the enemy is to be de facto heretical. 

   Thus, after the “Night of the Long Knives” and after Goebbels and Himmler carried out the murder of various dissidents, Schmitt published an article defending the right of the Third Reich and its leader to administer peremptory justice—and, in an interview published in the party newspaper Der Angriff,  defending none other than the Inquisition as a model of jurisprudence.[31]  Schmitt argued there that when Pope Innocent III created the juridical basis for the Inquisition, the Church inaugurated perhaps the “most humane institution conceivable” because it required a confession.  Of course, he goes on, the subsequent advent of confessions extracted by torture was unfortunate, but in terms of legal history, he thought the Inquisition a fine model of humane justice.  He managed to overlook the fact that the “crimes,” both in the case of the Inquisition and in the case of National Socialism in mid-1930s Germany, were primarily “crimes” of dissidence.

   Here we begin to consider the larger question of ideocracy as characteristic of modernity.  Ideocracy has nothing to do with Gnosticism or gnosis—but it might well have something to do with those who require enemies in order to define themselves, and with those who are willing to torture and slaughter in the name of some forthcoming imagined religious or secular millennium.  It is rigid ideocracy we see at work in the unreadable pronouncements of Communist China defending their occupation of Tibet and the insanity of the Cultural Revolution; it is rigid ideocracy at work in the pronouncements of Stalinist Russia, behind which millions upon millions lie dead.  Secular millennialism requires a rigid historicism—faith in history is necessary, a belief that one can remake this world and human society into a new historical model, even if the price is murder and torture.  Schmitt was a subtle thinker and very learned, no question of that.  His work offers us insights into the nature of modernity, into geopolitics, and into politics as combat.  But his work also, unexpectedly, throws light on the intellectual origins of modern ideocracies in early and medieval historicist, anti-heresiological Christianity.

 


[1] See Jan-Werner Müller, A Dangerous Mind: Carl Schmitt in Post-War European Thought, (New Haven: Yale UP, 2003), p. 7

[2] Ibid., p. 205

[3] See Carl Schmitt, G. Schwab, trs.,  The Leviathan in the State Theory of Thomas Hobbes, (Westport: Greenwood, 1996), p. 26.

[4] See Hugh Urban, “Religion and Secrecy in the Bush Administration: The Gentleman, the Prince, and the Simulacrum,” in Esoterica VII(2005): 1-38.

[5] See Leo Strauss, Persecution and the Art of Writing, (Chicago: U. of Chicago P., 1952), p. 17; Leo Strauss, “Farabi’s Plato,” Louis Ginzberg Jubilee Volume, New York: American Academy for Jewish Research, 1945), pp. 357-393, p. 384.

[6] Schmitt, Leviathan, op. cit., p. 3.

[7] Ibid., p. 29.

[8] Ibid., p. 60.

[9] Ibid., p. 62.

[10] Ibid., pp. 96-97.

[11] See Heinrich Meier, Carl Schmitt and Leo Strauss: The Hidden Dialogue, (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1995), p. 59, citing The Concept of the Political  (1933 ed.) III.9.

[12] See Schmitt, Politische Theologie II, (Berlin: Duncker und Humblot, 1970), p. 103, to wit: “Für eine Besinnung auf die theologischen Möglichkeiten spezifisch justischen Denkens ist Tertullian der Prototyp.”

[13] Heinrich Meier, The Lesson of Carl Schmitt, (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1998), p. 92.

[14] See Meier, op. cit., p. 94, citing Tertullian, De praescriptione haereticorum, VII. 9-13: “Quid ergo Athenis et Hierosolymis?  Quid academiae et ecclesiae?  Quid haereticis et Christianis?”

[15] Schmitt, PTII, op. cit., p. 120: “Der gnostische Dualismus setzt einen Gott der Liebe, einen welt-fremden Gott, als den Erlöser-Gott gegen den gerechten Gott, den Herrn und Schöpfer dieser bösen Welt. . . [einer Art gefährlichen Kalten Krieges]”.

[16] Ibid., p. 122. 

[17] See A. Roberts and J. Donaldson, eds., Ante-Nicene Fathers, (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1989), III.521.

[18] Ibid., III. 643.

[19] See Tertullian’s treatise “Scorpiace,” op. cit., III.633-648.

[20] Here we might remark that Western forms of Christianity are strikingly different in this respect from those in the Eastern Church, where mysticism remained (however uneasily at times) incorporated into orthodoxy itself and not imagined as inherently inimical to orthodoxy.

[21] See Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth in the International Law of the Jus Publicum Europaeum, G.L. Ulmen, trs., (New York: Telos, 2003), pp. 59-60.

[22] Ibid., p. 60.

[23] Carl Schmitt, G. Schwab, trs., The Concept of the Political, (New Brunswick: Rutgers, 1976), p. 51.

[24] Ibid., p. 64.

[25] Ibid., p. 65.

[26] Ibid., p. 67.

[27] I write “supposedly” dualist and “reputedly” held the world to be evil because these accusations, repeated by Tertullian and several other ante-Nicene Fathers, are hardly borne out as characteristics of all the works we see in the Nag Hammadi library, the collection of actual Gnostic writings discovered in 1945. 

[28] Ibid., p. 29.

[29] See Luciano Pellicani, Revolutionary Apocalypse: Ideological Roots of Terrorism, (Westport: Praeger, 2003), pp. xi. I wholeheartedly agree with Pellicani’s basic thesis that “The expansion on a planetary scale of a new form of chiliasm that substituted transcendence with absolute immanence and paradise with a classless and stateless society is the most extraordinary and shattering historical-cultural phenomenon of the secular age.” But this “new form of chiliasm” has nothing whatever to do with Gnosticism as an actual historical phenomenon.  One cannot find a single instance in late antiquity among the Gnostics themselves for such a phenomenon—but if one were to refer instead to “the destructive calling of modern pseudo­-gnostic revolution” that seeks to “purify the existing through a policy of mass terror and annihilation,” Pellicani’s thesis would no longer be quite as subject to the criticism of an anachronistic misuse of terms.  Later in the book, Pellicani discusses the cases of the Pol Pot regime and of Communist China—both of which illustrate his larger thesis well.  But neither of these have anything whatever to do with the phenomenon of Gnosticism in any historically meaningful sense. Even Voegelin himself expressed doubts about attempting to apply “Gnosticism” to the case of Communist Russia—let alone to Cambodia!  Such cases could be construed to illustrate a uniquely modern pseudo-gnosticism—though one could with more accuracy dispense entirely with the dubious references to “Gnosticism” and simply refer to secular millennialism.

[30] See Carl Schmitt, “Das Judentum in der deutschen Rechtswissenschaft,” in “Die deutsche Rechtswissenschaft im Kampf gegen den jüdischen Geist,” in Deutsche Juristen-Zeitung, 41(15 Oct. 1936)20:1193-1199, cited in Gopal  Balakrishnan, The Enemy: An Intellectual Portrait of Carl Schmitt, (London: Verso, 2000), p. 206.

[31] See “Können wir uns vor Justizirrtum schützen?” Der Angriff, 1 Sept. 1936, cited in Andreas Koenen, Der Fall Carl Schmitt, (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche, 1995), p. 703; see also Balakrishnan, op. cit., pp. 202-203.

samedi, 26 mars 2011

Fürs Vaterland. L'epopea dei Corpi Franchi

Fürs Vaterland. L’epopea dei Corpi Franchi

 Autore: Luca Leonello Rimbotti

Ex: http://www.centrostudilaruna.it/


Il Freikorps Roßbach. Uno dei Freikorps più celebri, fu impegnato nella Prussia occidentale e sul Baltico.

Il Freikorps Roßbach. Uno dei Corpi Franchi più celebri, fu impegnato nella Prussia occidentale e sul Baltico.


Nella Germania devastata del primo dopoguerra, travolta dalla crisi economica, dalla guerra civile, dallo sfascio dello Stato, ci fu un nucleo di uomini che non rimasero a guardare: la Repubblica di Weimar, nata dal crollo del 1918 e scossa da una serie di insurrezioni comuniste, che dettero vita alle effimere “repubbliche dei consigli”, era anche attraversata da tentativi di contro-rivoluzione: un putsch dietro l’altro, ma nessuno di essi riuscì a rovesciare il pur fragile governo socialdemocratico. Questo, infatti, si resse praticamente soltanto grazie al paradossale aiuto che gli fornirono i Corpi Franchi, cioè quei gruppi nati spontaneamente fra giovani e soldati appena smobilitati, che si raccoglievano attorno a capi militari carismatici ed efficienti: una specie di compagnie di ventura, che sorsero qua e là in tutta la Germania.


Non difendevano la Repubblica, che anzi disprezzavano. Difendevano la Germania. Contro le sollevazioni dei “rossi” e contro le infiltrazioni che, a Est come a Ovest, minacciavano i labili confini, non ancora stabiliti dalla pace di Versailles e completamente aperti. A Occidente, la Francia sobillava il separatismo renano; a Oriente la Polonia appena risorta voleva accaparrarsi più terra tedesca che poteva; e intanto l’Armata Rossa di Trotzkij spingeva verso la Germania. Lenin lo aveva detto: per fare la rivoluzione mondiale bisogna prendere in tutti i modi la Germania. Contro questa folla di nemici sorse un pugno di combattenti: bande irregolari, civili armati alla meglio, oltre a veterani delle trincee della Grande Guerra.


Nella zona baltica, in Curlandia, nella Pomerania e nell’Alta Slesia contese alla Polonia, nella Ruhr occupata dai Francesi, nella Renania, a Berlino: ovunque ci fosse da contrastare la sovversione si trovavano uomini disposti a morire. Questi “lanzichenecchi”, come li chiamò Jünger, erano nazionalisti radicali, alcuni rimpiangevano la Germania imperiale del Kaiser, ma molti altri vedevano invece in quella lotta l’occasione per fare una rivoluzione nazionale. Ma, ben più che ideologi, erano uomini d’azione. Con una sola idea in testa: difendere il Reich in ogni modo e in ogni luogo. Questo mondo di ribelli, di straordinari guerrieri moderni, trovò il suo realistico epos nel famoso romanzo I proscritti di Ernst von Salomon, pubblicato nel 1929 e presto divenuto il testo di riferimento per comprendere un’epoca e una serie di intricate vicende, che altrimenti – specialmente fuori dalla Germania – sarebbero state del tutto ignorate.


Oggi le Edizioni Ritter ci propongono un eccezionale documento in materia: la prima traduzione italiana di un altro testo di von Salomon, Freikorps. Lo spirito dei Corpi Franchi, uscito in Germania nel 1936 col titolo Storia recente, un documento che si raccomanda sia per la scarsità della bibliografia sull’argomento, sia per la statura dell’autore. Von Salomon, coinvolto nell’omicidio politico del ministro degli Esteri Walther Rathenau, per il quale venne condannato nel 1922 a cinque anni, in precedenza, negli anni caldi dell’immediato primo dopoguerra, fu presente in molti teatri guerreschi, dalla repressione dei moti comunisti a Berlino alla lotta antibolscevica nelle regioni baltiche, a quella anti-polacca nella Slesia settentrionale.


Il libro, breve ma denso e trascinante, è un formidabile ritratto dell’epoca e degli uomini che si mossero in quegli scenari mutevoli e irti di incognite. Idealismo combattentistico, fedeltà al capo del proprio corpo e alla terra tedesca, coscienza di essere circondati dall’odio dei nemici e dall’incomprensione del governo centrale; il quale molto spesso, sotto le minacce dell’Intesa (Francia e Inghilterra), si piegava a intimare sgomberi di zone già riconquistate dai Freikorps dopo sanguinosi combattimenti. Ma la frustrante situazione non era tale da ingenerare scoramento in quegli uomini dall’eccezionale temperamento. Scrive von Salomon che «il “lanzichenecco” del dopoguerra tedesco non si vendeva. Si donava». I giovani che accorrevano in quelle file fondevano i loro ideali in un’unica forma: «i vari aspetti ideologici di ogni orientamento, in voga a quell’epoca, agirono insieme e non è un caso che molti concetti sorti dai movimenti giovanili si siano precipitati a trovare nei Corpi Franchi una nuova patria spirituale». Aggregazioni rapide sul campo, mobilità, capacità di impegnare anche battaglie con armi pesanti fornite di straforo dall’esercito, slancio e senso del sacrificio. Queste doti permisero a formazioni, come ad es. quella del Reggimento Reinhard, il primo a costituirsi a Berlino, o il Corpo Franco Rossbach, o la Brigata Ehrhardt, di fronteggiare situazioni catastrofiche, come quella orientale, dove si profilava «lo spaventoso pericolo dell’insurrezione dell’Asia alle porte dell’Europa», come scrive von Salomon.


Un reparto della Brigata Ehrhardt

Un reparto della Brigata Ehrhardt


Un’etica rigida, ma guidata da un «forte valore affettivo» per quelle terre tedesche da riconquistare al germanesimo e sulle quali non pochi combattenti speravano un giorno di radicarsi: l’ideale di acquisire una tenuta agricola nella Pomerania o nella Prussia Orientale redente, come asserisce von Salomon, era diffuso, al fine di «rafforzare l’elemento tedesco e conquistare così per il Reich un nuovo baluardo, se non una nuova provincia». L’universo dei Freikorps, destinato a scomparire all’improvviso così come era sorto, al momento della stabilizzazione dei confini e della situazione politica interna, rappresentò in ogni caso un momento alto della tenuta nazionale, in un momento tragico della storia tedesca. Qualcosa che, in Italia, può essere paragonato al legionarismo fiumano, ugualmente mobilitatosi per proteggere un fronte compromesso dai trattati di pace, e non a caso ricordato di passata da von Salomon come «prima espressione dello spirito fascista». Ed anche nella memoria storica tedesca la vicenda rimase esemplare del volontarismo spontaneo, tanto che – come ricorda nell’introduzione Maurizio Rossi, che svolge un’esauriente ricostruzione del quadro storico entro cui operarono i Freikorps - il Nazionalsocialismo si disse erede di quelle vicende e di quegli uomini, ben rappresentati dalla figura di Schlageter, l’ex-combattente dei Corpi Franchi e poi iscritto alla NSDAP: finendo fucilato dai Francesi nel 1923 per terrorismo nella zona della Ruhr, divenne una delle icone più celebrate dell’eroismo post-bellico.


Difatti: «Il Nazionalsocialismo – sottolinea Rossi – aveva comprensibilmente tutto l’interesse di esaltare la logica continuità ideale tra lo spirito dei volontari dei Freikorps, rimarcandone l’immagine di comunità combattente rivoluzionaria e interclassista mobilitata contro i nemici esterni e interni del Reich, e il combattentismo delle SA, ponendo così in evidenza il ruolo svolto dal movimento nazionalsocialista come risolutore della questione nazionale e sociale ed unico artefice della rinascita spirituale della Germania».


Estranei agli intrighi e ai compromessi con i quali il governo di Weimar si screditava davanti all’opinione pubblica, i membri dei reparti volontari accorrevano là, dove c’era un pericolo immediato: badando alla concretezza, e non alle convenienze politiche del momento, essi contribuirono spesso a creare dei fatti compiuti, per cui molte zone poterono rimanere al Reich (ad es. Memel) solo perché c’erano stati uomini disposti a morire per mantenerle tedesche: «Il soldato di quell’epoca – commentava von Salomon – non capiva più le tortuosità misteriose della strategia governativa, agiva secondo un impulso guerriero». Poi venne la smobilitazione: «I Corpi Franchi si difendevano isolatamente con battaglie sempre nuove contro l’avversario, che li inseguiva senza tregua. Fortemente decimati, laceri, mezzi morti di fame, vacillanti per la stanchezza, ma con una disciplina incrollabile, giunsero infine […] alla frontiera tedesca, dove le truppe del Reichswehr dovevano accoglierli e smistarli rapidamente in quartieri di riposo qua e là nel Reich, fino al loro completo smembramento».


Diversi di loro finiranno oppositori del Terzo Reich (come Edgar Jung), alcuni si defilarono ma vi convissero (come von Salomon). Molti altri confluirono nel Nazionalsocialismo, come ad es. Erich Koch, che divenne Gauleiter della Prussia Orientale.


* * *


Tratto da Linea del 5 febbraio 2011.




Luca Leonello Rimbotti

vendredi, 11 mars 2011

Il soldato di Jünger è l'uomo-massa in rivolta contro la massificazione, cioè contro se stesso

Il soldato di Jünger è l’uomo-massa in rivolta contro la massificazione, cioè contro se stesso

di Francesco Lamendola

Fonte: Arianna Editrice [scheda fonte]



È altamente significativo il fatto che un evento epocale e lacerante come la prima guerra mondiale abbia trovato, nell’ambito della letteratura, solo pochi scrittori capaci di penetrare l’essenza di ciò che essa aveva in se stessa di nuovo, di tragicamente nuovo, rispetto a tutte le guerre precedenti: vale a dire la massificazione e l’industrializzazione del massacro.
Fra i non molti che se ne resero conto, spicca il nome di Ernst Jünger, uno dei maggiori nella pleiade della cosiddetta “rivoluzione conservatrice” fiorita nei primi decenni del Novecento, che ha rappresentato tale carattere di novità in alcuni libri divenuti giustamente famosi, da «In Stahlgewittern», del 1920 («Nelle tempeste d’acciaio», Parma, Guanda, 1995), a  «Der Kampf als inneres», del 1922 (La lotta come esperienza interiore»); da «Sturm», del 1923 («Il tenente Sturm», Parma, Guanda, 2000), a «Das Waldchen 125», del 1925 («Boschetto 125. Una cronaca delle battaglie in trincea nel 1918», Parma, Guanda, 1999).
Da questi romanzi e saggi emerge con lucidità e prepotenza una nuova figura antropologica, quella del “soldato”, peraltro con caratteristiche radicalmente diverse da quelle “classiche”: più un pirata e un avventuriero, che un disciplinato esecutore di ordini superiori; più un anarca che un borghese, anzi, decisamente un anti-borghese, forgiato dal ferro e dal fuoco e darwinianamente sopravvissuto alle “tempeste d’acciaio” proprio per accendere la fiaccola della rivoluzione nella stagnante società del cosiddetto ordine costituito.
Jünger delinea questa nuova figura con l’entusiasmo e con la compartecipazione di chi ne ha fatto l‘esperienza diretta (fu ufficiale di complemento nelle trincee a partire dal 1915, dopo essersi arruolato romanticamente nella Legione Straniera francese) e, al tempo stesso, con il tono profetico che lo contraddistinguerà, poco dopo - negli anni del primo dopoguerra - quando sposterà le sue simpatie su di una nuova figura antropologica, quella dell’”operaio”; per poi approdare, definitivamente, a quella del “ribelle”, di colui che “passa al bosco” e rifiuta radicalmente le tranquille certezze del mondo borghese, per “vivere pericolosamente” in una sorta di guerra privata contro ogni tentativo di ingabbiarlo, di ammaestrarlo, di ammansirlo e, in ultima analisi, di manipolarlo.
Nemmeno Jünger, però, riesce a sottrarsi alle premesse irrazionalistiche, vitalistiche, confusamente nietzschiane, che fanno velo alla rigorosa imparzialità della sua analisi e finisce per caricare la figura del “soldato” di valenze romantiche, nel senso più ampio del termine, che poco o niente hanno a che fare con la realtà storica della prima guerra mondiale; e, soprattutto, per cercare una scorciatoia ideologica che gli consenta di sottrarre quella figura, a lui così cara, al destino della massificazione e della nullificazione della sua volontà individuale, per restituirle - ma, ahimé, solo in maniera astratta e velleitaria - quella capacità decisionale che contrassegna, per definizione, qualsiasi “eroe” letterario: categoria - quest’ultima - alla quale anche il “soldato” appartiene.
In altre parole, Jünger tenta di delineare la figura di un combattente che, slanciandosi contro le linee nemiche per “sfondarle” o “penetrarle” (psicanalisti freudiani, sbizzarritevi!), con una sorta di furore eroico che è anche, al tempo stesso, decisamente erotico, si fa protagonista di un vero e proprio surrogato dell’atto sessuale.
Sarebbe troppo semplice insistere sul velleitarismo, nonché sulla natura eminentemente letteraria, nel senso di “straniante”, di un simile atteggiamento, che, come nel caso dei Futuristi, celebra la “bellezza” della lotta per se stessa e finisce per cadere in un eccesso di estetismo, vagamente spruzzato di superomismo e, naturalmente, del più crudo darwinismo.
Più interessante, invece, della chiave di lettura psicologica e più fruttuosa come ipotesi di lavoro, ci sembra essere quella specificamente ideologica: non potendo sottrarsi ad una spietata quanto cieca gerarchia,  che lo afferra e lo scaraventa in un sanguinoso, delirante bagno di anonimità, il “soldato” jüngheriano si prende la sua rivincita individualistica, facendo proprio quel modello gerarchico e quella impersonalità tecnologica, ma vivendoli, con orgoglio, dall’interno, illudendosi così di mutare i termini della propria condizione di totale impotenza decisionale e di radicale e assoluta sottomissione ad un tale apparato anonimo e distruttivo.
Eric J. Leed, nel suo pregevole studio «Terra di nessuno. Esperienza bellica e identità personale nella prima guerra mondiale» (titolo originale: «No Man’s Land. Combat and Identity in World War I», Cambridge University Press, 1979; traduzione italiana di Rinaldo Falcioni, Bologna, Il Mulino, 1985, 2004 pp. 200-212 passim), ha colto nel segno, a nostro avviso, allorché ha evidenziato il carattere illusorio e, al tempo stesso, auto-consolatorio, della identificazione jüngheriana fra il “soldato” e la guerra:

«Man mano che gli uomini esperivano la guerra come estraniazione dal proprio “agire”, come perdita di controllo, come svilimento delle loro potenzialità, la loro autonomia smarrita e le loro energie represse furono investite in un’astrazione: “la Guerra”, il meccanismo autonomo di macello. Ma alcuni combattenti, e in prima file Ernst Jünger, non poterono rassegnarsi allo statuto di individui qualsiasi, sofferenti passivi dello strapotere del materiale. Essi tentarono dunque di recuperare la loro potenza perduta tramite un’identificazione proprio con quel meccanismo autonomo della “Guerra” che tiranneggiava le “masse”. Nel caso di Jünger» l’identificazione personale con la tecnologia autonoma divenne fonte di potere e autorità personali; tramite questa identificazione egli fu in grado di acquisire lo statuto di esecutore di un potere sovrapersonale, un potere che concedeva a coloro che si identificavano in esso una rinnovata, anche se “amorale”, capacità d’azione. È in quest’ottica che bisogna leggere l’affermazione di Jünger secondo cui la prima guerra mondiale produsse una nuova “Gestalt”, un “uomo tecnologico” che era tanto “duro”, “insensibile”, e “imperturbabile” quanto la stessa macchina da guerra.
In base a queste identificazioni la guerra in generale, e in particolare l’immagine della guerra come realtà industriale, “tecnologica”, acquista sovente un profondo significato soggettivo. Nei libri di guerra di Jünger è evidente che la “macchina” assomma tutte le altre caratteristiche della figura d’”autorità” in grado d’impartire sofferenze e punizioni, rimanendo ad esse impermeabile – la figura del padre, lo stato, la divinità. La posizione politica post-bellica di Jünger, il suo “conservatorismo radicale”, trae le mosse da un’esperienza di guerra in cui egli apprese, una volta di più, che l’individuo non acquisisce la sua capacità di azione e la sua autonomia tramite la ribellione contro quelle figure, bensì tramite l’identificazione con esse. […]
Per Jünger la guerra fu un’esperienza che liberò i figli della borghesia dalle loro origini sociali, rivoltandoli contro i loro genitori borghesi. […]
Al pari di tutti gli altri, Jünger esperì la guerra autentica come umiliazione, come tremenda rassegnazione; il nemico era scomparso dietro una maschera macchinica che impediva ogni confronto od osservazione. I successivi anni di guerra avrebbero solo intensificato le contraddizioni implicite in questa esperienza iniziale: la guerra non era la prova delle capacità e delle volontà individuali, bensì la soppressione di ogni valore connesso all’individuo. […]
Qui l’offensiva è l’atto che risolve tutte le inibizioni: essa permette a coloro che marciscono nelle trincee e nelle buche di granata di comportarsi finalmente come pirati e tagliaborse svincolati da ogni morale o coscienza.  L’immagine di violenza sistematica nei confronti di un paese pingue e pacifico in compagnia di altri “armati di tutto punto” è necessariamente legata allo strapotere inibitore del fuoco d’artiglieria, al sistema di trincea, alle condizioni di immobilismo della guerra: sono proprio queste realtà, queste condizioni che creano le condizioni immaginarie dello straripamento di una feroce soldatesca in territori vergini. […]
Nei primi lavori di Jünger si può chiaramente cogliere - nell’idea dell’assalto di tipo militare e sociale - la sovrapposizione fra mondo sociale e mondo militare. È evidente che l’esperienza di guerra non è, almeno non a livello mentale, un’esperienza discreta, creatrice di nuove strategie psichiche; piuttosto, con i materiali dell’esperienza di guerra, Jünger semplifica e intensifica un tipo di conflitto  psichico prettamente tradizionale. Da un lato stanno tutte le realtà restrittive e inibitorie - la tecnologia, la borghesia, la figura del padre - che servono a proteggere e a difendere un territorio amico e pacifico; dall’altro stanno le creazioni della realtà e della fantasia - il pirata predone, le truppe d’assalto, gli assassini segreti della coscienza borghese, giovani che erano a un tempo “costretti a sacrificare se stessi” e armati “dei massimi strumenti di potenza”. […]
In tutti questi frangenti, il personaggio del soldato è contrassegnato da un’elevata tensione ormai abituale: in termini patologici, questo carattere è basato su di una stasi, un equilibrio teso, che fomenta in continuazione fantasie di scarica, di liberazione. Qualora si voglia ricostruire il percorso che nell’opera di Jünger lega l’esperienza di guerra ad un’ideologia del tutto ambivalente, che combina totalitarismo e rivoluzione, si deve partire dalla situazione di fatto esistente della guerra di trincea. Proprio da questa situazione in cui le scariche pulsionali e la mobilità dei singoli combattenti erano inibite dalla tecnologia, risultò una mostruosa stasi fisica; ma nel particolare caso di Jünger, questa stasi assunse il carattere di una fissazione sulla tecnologia, approdando quest’ultima allo statuto di genitrice di una generazione intera.»

Se, dunque, la guerra moderna rappresenta l’estremo punto d’arrivo, da un lato, della industrializzazione, della gerarchizzazione e dell’anonimato dei modelli sociali e, dall’altro, della loro mistificazione ideologica (perché solo così si potrebbe ottenere il consenso nei confronti di una macchina di distruzione di tale apocalittico orrore), Jünger ha visto giusto nell’individuarne i legami di contiguità, logica e produttiva, con i meccanismi economici, sociali e politici che caratterizzano la modernità in quanto tale, anche in tempo di “pace”: che altro non è se non la tregua in attesa del riaccendersi d’un conflitto permanente.
Lo provano, fra l’altro, le evidenti analogie, riscontrate già nelle retrovie dei campi di battaglia, fra le nevrosi caratteristiche della società in tempo di pace e quelle che insorgevano nei soldati alle prese con l’esperienza diretta della guerra: nevrosi da gas, nevrosi da trincea, nevrosi da bombardamento e via di seguito.
Perfino la loro ripartizione per classi sociali riproduceva fedelmente la “distribuzione” del disagio mentale in tempo di pace: gli attacchi di ansia generalizzata, infatti, erano più diffusi tra gli ufficiali, provenienti dalle classi superiori; mentre le nevrosi “specifiche”, ad esempio quelle da gas (dopo che ebbe inizio la guerra chimica con l’attacco tedesco ad Ypres, in Belgio, nel 1915, mediante un aggressivo chimico passato alla storia, appunto, con il nome di “iprite”) erano più diffuse fra i soldati di truppa, provenienti dal proletariato.
Non aveva visto giusto, invece, Jünger - a nostro avviso - allorché confondeva lo slancio aggressivo del “soldato” con una forma di affermazione dell’individuo, addirittura dell’individuo eccezionale (al punto da teorizzare che la tattica della cosiddetta “difesa elastica”, adottata dallo Stato Maggiore dell’esercito per limitare il numero delle perdite e per facilitare l’azione manovrata di contrattacco sui fianchi, era contraria allo spirito del soldato, secondo lui naturalmente offensivo), perché non sapeva o non voleva riconoscere il carattere coercitivo della macchina militare da cui il singolo soldato totalmente dipendeva, ridotto in condizioni d’irrimediabile eteronomia.
Perciò la rivolta del “soldato” contro la massificazione era, in fondo, l’inconscia rivolta dell’uomo massificato contro se stesso: contro quella proiezione illusoria di se stesso che vestiva l’uniforme di un altro colore ed era perciò identificata con il “nemico”.
Non seppe o non volle vedere che il soldato, in una guerra moderna, cioè totale, è null’altro che un ingranaggio, anonimo e perciò sostituibile a volontà, della macchina-esercito; così come non saprà o non vorrà vedere che l’operaio, nella società moderna, altro non è che un ingranaggio, altrettanto anonimo e intercambiabile, della macchina-industria.
Molto più lucido e molto più coerente con le sue premesse individualistiche, conservatrici e tuttavia, o proprio per questo, irriducibilmente antiborghesi, è stato, secondo noi, l’ultimo Jünger, quello del Waldgänger, ossia dell’anarca che “passa al bosco” (una rivisitazione, in fondo, del “masnadiere” di schilleriana memoria) e riesce così, pur dovendo vivere nell’era dei Titani, a difendere almeno l’essenziale della propria individualità, del proprio spirito critico, della propria volontà di non sottomettersi ad un sistema omologante, che tutto abbraccia e che tutto livella con l’inesorabile efficienza produttiva della Tecnica.


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mercredi, 02 mars 2011

Reflections on Carl Schmitt's "The Concept of the Political"

Reflections on Carl Schmitt’s The Concept of the Political

Greg Johnson

Ex: http://www.counter-currents.com/

“Why can’t we all get along?”–Rodney King

carl_schmitt-20300.jpgCarl Schmitt’s short book The Concept of the Political (1932) is one of the most important works of 20th century political philosophy.

The aim of The Concept of the Political is the defense of politics from utopian aspirations to abolish politics. Anti-political utopianism includes all forms of liberalism as well as international socialism, global capitalism, anarchism, and pacifism: in short, all social philosophies that aim at a universal order in which conflict is abolished.

In ordinary speech, of course, liberalism, international socialism, etc. are political movements, not anti-political ones. So it is clear that Schmitt is using “political” in a particular way. For Schmitt, the political is founded on the distinction between friend and enemy. Utopianism is anti-political insofar as it attempts to abolish that distinction, to root out all enmity and conflict in the world.

Schmitt’s defense of the political is not a defense of enmity and conflict as good things. Schmitt fully recognizes their destructiveness and the necessity of managing and mitigating them. But Schmitt believes that enmity is best controlled by adopting a realistic understanding of its nature. So Schmitt does not defend conflict, but realism about conflict. Indeed, Schmitt believes that the best way to contain conflict is first to abandon all unrealistic notions that one can do away with it entirely.

Furthermore, Schmitt believes that utopian attempts to completely abolish conflict actually increase its scope and intensity. There is no war more universal in scope and fanatical in prosecution than wars to end all war and establish perpetual peace.

Us and Them

What does the distinction between friend and enemy mean?

First, for Schmitt, the distinction between friend and enemy is collective. He is talking about “us versus them” not “one individual versus another.”

Schmitt introduces the Latin distinction between hostis (a collective or public enemy, the root of “hostile”) and inimicus (an individual and private adversary, the root of “inimical”). The political is founded on the distinction between friend (those on one’s side) and hostis (those on the other side). Private adversaries are not public enemies.

Second, the distinction between friend and enemy is polemical. The friend/enemy distinction is always connected with the abiding potential for violence. One does not need to actually fight one’s enemy, but the potential must always be there. The sole purpose of politics is not group conflict; the sole content of politics is not group conflict; but the abiding possibility of group conflict is what creates the political dimension of human social existence.

Third, the distinction between friend and enemy is existentially serious. Violent conflict is more serious than other forms of conflict, because when things get violent people die.

Fourth, the distinction between friend and enemy is not reducible to any other distinction. For instance, it is not reducible to the distinction between good and evil. The “good guys” are just as much enemies to the “bad guys” as the “bad guys” are enemies to the “good guys.” Enmity is relative, but morality—we hope—is not.

Fifth, although the friend/enemy distinction is not reducible to other distinctions and differences—religious, economic, philosophical, etc.—all differences can become political if they generate the friend/enemy opposition.

In sum, the ultimate root of the political is the capacity of human groups to take their differences so seriously that they will kill or die for them.

It is important to note that Schmitt’s concept of the political does not apply to ordinary domestic politics. The rivalries of politicians and parties, provided they stay within legal parameters, do not constitute enmity in Schmitt’s sense. Schmitt’s notion of politics applies primarily to foreign relations — the relations between sovereign states and peoples — rather than domestic relations within a society. The only time when domestic relations become political in Schmitt’s sense is during a revolution or a civil war.

 

Sovereignty

 

If the political arises from the abiding possibility of collective life or death conflict, the political rules over all other areas of social life because of its existential seriousness, the fact that it has recourse to the ultimate sanction.

For Schmitt, political sovereignty is the power to determine the enemy and declare war. The sovereign is the person who makes that decision.

If a sovereign declares an enemy, and individuals or groups within his society reject that declaration, the society is in a state of undeclared civil war or revolution. To refuse the sovereign’s choice of enemy is one step away from the sovereign act of choosing one’s own enemies. Thus Schmitt’s analysis supports the saying that, “War is when the government tells you who the bad guy is. Revolution is when you decide that for yourself.”

 

Philosophical Parallels

The root of the political as Schmitt understands it is what Plato and Aristotle call “thumos,” the middle part of the soul that is neither theoretical reason nor physical desire, but is rather the capacity for passionate attachment. Thumos is the root of the political because it is the source of attachments to (a) groups, and politics is collective, and (b) life-transcending and life-negating values, i.e., things that are worth killing and dying for, like the defense of personal or collective honor, one’s culture or way of life, religious and philosophical convictions, etc. Such values make possible mortal conflict between groups.

The abolition of the political, therefore, requires the abolition of the human capacity for passionate, existentially serious, life and death attachments. The apolitical man is, therefore, the apathetic man, the man who lacks commitment and intensity. He is what Nietzsche called “the last man,” the man for whom there is nothing higher than himself, nothing that might require that he risk the continuation of his physical existence. The apolitical utopia is a spiritual “boneless chicken ranch” of doped up, dumbed down, self-absorbed producer-consumers.

Schmitt’s notion of the political is consistent with Hegel’s notion of history. For Hegel, history is a record of individual and collective struggles to the death over images or interpretations of who we are. These interpretations consist of the whole realm of culture: worldviews and the ways of life that are their concrete manifestations.

There are, of course, many interpretations of who we are. But there is only one truth, and according to Hegel the truth is that man is free. Just as philosophical dialectic works through a plurality of conflicting viewpoints to get to the one truth, so the dialectic of history is a war of conflicting worldviews and ways of life that will come to an end when the correct worldview and way of life are established. The concept of human freedom must become concretely realized in a way of life that recognizes freedom. Then history as Hegel understands it—and politics as Schmitt understands it—will come to an end.

Hegel’s notion of the ideal post-historical state is pretty much everything a 20th (or 21st) century fascist could desire. But later interpreters of Hegel like Alexandre Kojève and his follower Francis Fukuyama, interpret the end of history as a “universal homogeneous state” that sounds a lot like the globalist utopianism that Schmitt wished to combat.

Why the Political Cannot be Abolished

If the political is rooted in human nature, then it cannot be abolished. Even if the entire planet could be turned into a boneless chicken ranch, all it would take is two serious men to start politics—and history—all over again.

But the utopians will never even get that far. Politics cannot be abolished by universal declarations of peace, love, and tolerance, for such attempts to transcend politics actually just reinstitute it on another plane. After all, utopian peace- and love-mongers have enemies too, namely “haters” like us.

Thus the abolition of politics is really only the abolition of honesty about politics. But dishonesty is the least of the utopians’ vices. For in the name of peace and love, they persecute us with a fanaticism and wanton destructiveness that make good, old-fashioned war seem wholesome by comparison.

Two peoples occupying adjacent valleys might, for strategic reasons, covet the high ground between them. This may lead to conflict. But such conflicts have finite, definable aims. Thus they tend to be limited in scope and duration. And since it is a mere conflict of interest—in which both sides, really, are right—rather than a moral or religious crusade between good and evil, light and darkness, ultimately both sides can strike a deal with each other to cease hostilities.

But when war is wedded to a universalist utopianism—global communism or democracy, the end of “terror” or, more risibly, “evil”—it becomes universal in scope and endless in duration. It is universal, because it proposes to represent all of humanity. It is endless, of course, because it is a war with human nature itself.

Furthermore, when war is declared in the name of “humanity,” its prosecution becomes maximally inhuman, since anything is fair against the enemies of humanity, who deserve nothing short of unconditional surrender or annihilation, since one cannot strike a bargain with evil incarnate. The road to Dresden, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki was paved with love: universalistic, utopian, humanistic, liberal love.

Liberalism

 

Liberalism seeks to reduce the friend/enemy distinction to differences of opinion or economic interests. The liberal utopia is one in which all disputes can be resolved bloodlessly by reasoning or bargaining. But the opposition between liberalism and anti-liberalism cannot be resolved by liberal means. It is perforce political. Liberal anti-politics cannot triumph, therefore, without the political elimination of anti-liberalism.

The abolition of the political requires the abolition of all differences, so there is nothing to fight over, or the abolition of all seriousness, so that differences make no difference. The abolition of difference is accomplished by violence and cultural assimilation. The abolition of seriousness is accomplished by the promotion of spiritual apathy through consumerism and indoctrination in relativism, individualism, tolerance, and diversity worship—the multicult.

Violence, of course, is generally associated with frankly totalitarian forms of anti-political utopianism like Communism, but the Second World War shows that liberal universalists are as capable of violence as Communists, they are just less capable of honesty.

Liberalism, however, generally prefers to kill us softly. The old-fashioned version of liberalism prefers the soft dissolution of differences through cultural assimilation, but that preference was reversed when an unassimilable minority rose to power in the United States, at which time multiculturalism and diversity became the watchwords, and the potential conflicts between different groups were to be managed through spiritual corruption. Today’s liberals make a fetish of the preservation of pluralism and diversity, as long as none of it is taken seriously.

 

Multicultural utopianism is doomed, because multiculturalism is very successful at increasing diversity, but, in the long run, it cannot manage the conflicts that come with it.

The drug of consumerism cannot be relied upon because economic crises cannot be eliminated. Furthermore, there are absolute ecological limits to the globalization of consumerism.

As for the drugs of relativism, individualism, tolerance, and the multi-cult: only whites are susceptible to their effects, and since these ideas systematically disadvantage whites in ethnic competition, ultimately those whites who accept them will be destroyed (which is the point, really) and those whites who survive will reject them. Then whites will start taking our own side, ethnic competition will get political, and, one way or another, racially and ethnically homogeneous states will emerge.

Lessons for White Nationalists

To become a White Nationalist is to choose one’s friends and one’s enemies for oneself. To choose new friends means to choose a new nation. Our nation is our race. Our enemies are the enemies of our race, of whatever race they may be. By choosing our friends and enemies for ourselves, White Nationalists have constituted ourselves as a sovereign people—a sovereign people that does not have a sovereign homeland, yet—and rejected the sovereignty of those who rule us. This puts us in an implicitly revolutionary position vis-à-vis all existing regimes.

The conservatives among us do not see it yet. They still wish to cling to America’s corpse and suckle from her poisoned tit. But the enemy understands us better than some of us understand ourselves. We may not wish to choose an enemy, but sometimes the enemy chooses us. Thus “mainstreamers” will be denied entry and forced to choose either to abandon White Nationalism or to explicitly embrace its revolutionary destiny.

It may be too late for mainstream politics, but it is still too early for White Nationalist politics. We simply do not have the power to win a political struggle. We lack manpower, money, and leadership. But the present system, like all things old and dissolute, will pass. And our community, like all things young and healthy, will grow in size and strength. Thus today our task is metapolitical: to raise consciousness and cultivate the community from which our kingdom—or republic—will come.

When that day comes, Carl Schmitt will be numbered among our spiritual Founding Fathers.