The Ideology of the 1\estl>etic

IJ
The Ideology of the
Aesthetic

Terri' Eagleton

~)BLACKWELL
0 1990by'Terry ~ltton

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 Contents

lntroductioo I
1 Free Paniculan 13
2 The Law oftbe He.~rt Shaf'tesbury, Hume, Burke 31
3 The K.antian Imaginary 70
4 SchiDer and Hegemony 102
S The World as Artefact: Fichte, Stbelling, Hegel 120
6 The Dcathof~ire: AnhW' Sdtopenhauer 153
7 Absolute Ironies: S..renKierkeg:wd 173
8 The Marxist Sublime 196
9 Trw: Illusions: Friedrich Niewche 234
10 The Name o( the Father: Sigmtmd Freud 262
11 The Polilics ofBeing: Martin Heidegg•r 288
12 The Mmlst Rabbi: Walter Benjamin 316
13 Art after Auscbwitt: Theodor Adorno 341
14 From the Poluto P061modernism 366
Index 418
hrToril
The Ideology of the Aesthetic
 Introduction

This is nut a hiswry of acsth~tit:'S. Tbcrt arc ll1llllY important

aestheticiaas whom I pass O¥er in saencc: in this book, and even in the
case of the thinkers I do consi~er it is not always th.U must obviously
aesthetic te.U which auract my anention. 1be book is rather an
anempt to find in the c3legory of the aesthetic a woy of gaining access
w certain central questions of modem European thought - to light
up, from tbat particubr angle, a range of.,.ider social, poUrical and
etbicotl issues.
Anyone who inspects the history uf European philosophy sine-.: the
Enlightenment must be suu.:k by the curiously hlsJI pricrity os.<igned
by it to oesthelic qu-.;tioos. For Konr, the aesthetic holds out a
promise uf n:concil.iation between Nature and humanity. Hegel
grants an a IO\\'Iy sratus within his theoretical system, but nt\"ertheless
produces an dcphantine treatise on it. The aesthetic for IGerkegaanl
must yield ground to the higher truths of ethks and reUgious
f:lith, but remains a recurrent preoccupation of his thought. For
Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, in sharply contrasting ways, aesthetic
experience represents a supreme fimn of value. Marx's impres.<ively
erudite allusions to world literature are matched bv Freud's modest
confession that the puel> had said it all before him. In our own
century, Heideggcr's esoteric meditlltions ctdminate in a kind of
acsthctlclzed ontology, whlle the lepcy of Western Marxism from
Lukacs to Adorno allots to art a theoretical privilege surprising at lint
gblnce for • m:ncrialist curtent of thought.' In the contemporary
debares on modernity, modernism and postmodernism, 'culture~
would seem • key Clltegory for tilt analysis an~ undcr>tanding of late
capitalist society.
 To claim such a lofty statu.< for aesthetic• in modem European
thought in genenl might seem roo unqualified a gesture. Almost all of
the thinkers I discuss in this book arc in fact German, ew:n if some of
the concepts I bring to bear upon their wor.k stem frnm the
intellectu•l mili•u of m<)dl'Ilt Frnnce. It would seem plausible to
argue that the charactcristic:ally idealist c:ast of German thought has
proved a more hospiuble medium for ae.theric enquiry than the
ratwnali•m of Frnnce or the empiricism of Britaill. Even so, the
influence of this largely Gennan legacy has spread tar beyond its
own national frontiers, a.< the so-called Engli<h 'Culture and
Society' mdition would attest; and the. question of the StnllJ!C
tenacity of aesthetic mancrs in modem Europe as • whole thus insist~
upon posing itself. Why, more particularly, should llus throrfliud
persistence of lite aesthetic typify an hUtorical period when cuiiUral
praaitr might be claimed to have lost much of its tnditional soci31
rele•ance, debased as it is to a branch of general commodity
production?
One simple but persuasive answer to this question springs from the
progres<il'ely abstract, technic-JI nature of ntodem Eur,.,ean thuugbt.
In this r~6ed contel<l, an would stU I appear to speak of the human
am! the cuncMi; providing us with a welcome respite from the
alienating rigours of nther mOTe ~eci2li7.ed di$cours~ and offering,
at the very heart of this great explosion and division ofknowledges, a
re-sidually common world. i\s far as scientific or sociological questions
are concerned, only the t.\pelt seems licensed to speak; when it
comes lo art, each of us can hope to contribute our two h.a'pcncc
worth. Yet the peculiarity of aesthetic discourse, as opposed to the
bnguages of art them.<elves, is that, while preserving a root in thi~
realm of everyday experience, it also raises and elaborates such
supposedly natural, spontaneous expression to the status of an
inrricatt intellectual discipline. With the birth of tbe ae.sthrtic, then,
the sphere of an itself begins to suffer something of tl1e abstractiou
and formalizlltion characteristic of modem theory in gencr>l; yet the
aesthedc is nevertheless thought to re12in a ch>rge of irreducihle
particularity, providing us with a kind of paradigm of what a non-
olienatcd mode of cognition might look like. Aestltetics is thus always
a contradictory, self-undoing son of project, which in promoting the
theoretical value of its object risk< emptying it of exactly that
specitictty or iJ!effability which was thought to rank among its most
2
 !NnODIJC"nON

precious fearures. The very la11guage which elevates art offers

perperuaUy to undermine it.
If the aesthetic has plll)·.d such a domin:ln t role in modnn thought,
it is no doubt in part because of the tersatificy of the concept. f'or a
notion which ;,, sUJlllOsed to •ignify • kind of functionlessncss, few
ideas can Jur\·e setVed so many disparate functions. Some readus will
doubdcss find my use of the categruy inadmissibly loose and broad,
not least when it comes at times to merge into the idea of bodily
experience as such. But if the aesthetic returns with such persistence,
it is partly becousc of a certain indctcnninacy of definition which
allows it to figure in a .aried span of preoocuparions: frt.dom and
l.e pliry, spontaneity and necessity, sdf-deu:nuination, autunomy,
particularity and univet$0Hty, along with ,....,e1'21 others. My argument,
broadly speaking, is that the c"tegory of the aesthetic: assumes the
impornonce it do"' in modem Europe bc<.-ausc in speaking of art it
speaks ofthese other mlltlers too, which are at the heart of the middle
class's struggle for political hegemony. The consrructioo of the
modem notion of the aesthetic artefact is thus inseparable from the
construction of the dominant ideological forms of modem cbs.s-
sodety, ond indeed from a whole new fon·n of bumou subjectivity
appropriate to that social order. It is on this account, rather thall
because men and women have suddenly awoken to the supreme \'lllue
of P""inling or poetry, that aesthetics plays so obtrusive a role in the
intellectual heritage of the present. But my argument is also thai' the
:aestheric. understood in a certain sense, prmides an unusually
powerful challenge and alternative to these dom.inant ideological
forms, and is in this sense an eminently contntdictory phenomenon.
In ch3rring any inteRectual current, it I& always difficult to know
how far back to go. I do not d aim that, as for as discourses of art are
concerned, something entirely novel sprang into being in the mid-
eighteenth ccnrury. Several of the aesthetic motils I mce could he
pursut!d back to the Renai~.'~aoce or even to classical anriqllity• and
little of wluot is said of self-realization as a goo! in itself would have
been un&mlll2r tn Aristode. There is no theoretical calllclysm at tlte
ceoiTe of the Enlightenment which throws up a nunncr of llllking
about art utterly devoid of intellectual antecedents. Whether as
rhetoric or poecics, sucll debates cxrend back far be)'Ond the earliest
historical moment of this •rudy, wbich is tlte writing of that devoted
disciple of Renaissance neo-Pia tonism, the F.arl of Sbaftesbury. At

3
the same time, it belongs to my argument that S<lmelhing new is
indeed afoot in the poriod which this work takes as its starting-point.
Ir idess of absolwe breaks are 'metaphysical', so lliso ue notions of
wholly ul11'llp(llred continuity. One of me aspeC1S of that novcll)· hos,
indeed. already been alluded to - the fact that in this particular epoch
of clm-soci.,ty. with the em.,rgl!nce of the early boUrgl!<>isie,
aesthetic coucepu (some of them of distinguished histOrical pedigree)
begin to pia)·, however tacitly, "" unusually central, intensive palt in
the constitution of • dominant ideology. Conceprioru; of the unity and
integrity of the work of an, for example, are commonplaces of an
'aesthetic' disGourse which 51retches back 10 classical antiquity; but
what ernerg<'$ from such familiar notions in the hlte eighte<nth
century is the curious idu of the work of an as a kind of $11./ljta. It is,
to be sure, a peculiar kind of subject, this newly defined anefact, but
it is a subject oonetheles5. And tbe historical pressures which give ri.•e
to such a stntng<' style of thought, untilte concepts of ae>1hetic unity or
autOnomy in gentral, by no means exrend back to the epoch of
Arislnde.

This is a Marxist srudy- at once. it might be claimed, too much and

too litde so. Too much so, because the book could be aceused at
tim<s of stra~ into a species of ~eft-functionalism' which reduces
the internal complexity of the aesthetic to a direct Sd of ideological
fuoctiotu. It Is true that for a cenoin kind of contemporary critic, any
historical or ideological cOillextualit.ltion ofan whal$0e'ler is ifl••foa•
n:ductionist; the only difTen:nce betw""n •uth critics and old.,.tyle
formafuts is that while the Jamr candidly adnowlcdg<'d this
prejudice, elevated il indeed to a whole elaborate theory of an in
itself, the former tend to be a tittle more elusive. It L• nol, they feel,
that the relation betwocn an and history m:ed be in principle a
rcducti\'C one; it is just that somehow, in aU ac:tual mlllife>tltiOilll ofit,
it always is. I do not really intend to sugge.<t that the eigbteenm-
c:enrury bourgeoisie .....mbkd around n toble fJ>Ie< their cloret to
dream up the concept of lbc aesthetic as a solution to their political
dilemmas, and the political concradictoriness of lhc catCIOfY is itselr
te<timony to the mistakennt.s o( •uch a •iewpoi.nL The pol.it:i<al left
always needs to be on suud against rcdut1iooism and oonspirocy
theories- thouKb as far as the latter arc coacemed it would be unwise
for r.tdic;ds 10 wax so subde and sophisticated. become so coy of

4
 INTRODUCTION

appearing crude, as to forget that ccnain theoretical conc.-pu are

indeed £rom time to time put to the uses of political power, and
sometimes in quite direct ways. If it may seem fon:ing the isstle
somewhat to discern rebdons between the tum to the aenhetic in the
Enlightenment and cert.ain problems of ob""lutisl political power, one
bas only to read Friedrich Schiller to find such relations explicitly
fonnulat<d, no doubt to the eml>ana.5sment of tb""' 'and-rcductionlsts'
who might hr;e wished him to be somewhat more discreoet about the
matter. If the study is, on the other hand, roo Uule M2rxist, it is
becall5e a satisfactory historical materialist account oflhe work or any
one of the writers with wh.Kh it deals. placing their thought in the
context of the material development, forms of Stllte puwer and
balaru:e of clu• for<:e< of their hi.rorical moments, would have
required • •olume to itself.
In the current lcti triptych of cone<ms with class, rare and gender,
it is sometimes felt that an excessive emphasis on the first of these
categories is in danger of dominating and distuning enqujt:y in.tu the
Olber two, which are ar present somewhat less securely established in
the left theoretical canon and thus \"Uwrable to appropriation hy a
narrowly conceived ckss politics. It would be foolish for those
primarily concerned with political emancipation in the spheres of race
and gender to rein their\igilance in this respett - to acce(lf rhe mere
good intentions or blcecl.inJ-heart liberalism uf those white malo
radica!B who, pmducht a.• riley are of a political hiuory which has
often violently marginalized these issues, cannot now be trustt.d to
ha•c miraculously \'Oidtd such bad habits from their systems
overnight. At the same time, it is difficult not to feel, in surveying
cerrain quaners of the left politicnl s~n• in Europe and above aU in
the USA, that the complaint that socialist discourse oow univenally
~ these al~rnative political projects i• not only increasingly
implausible but, in some contexts at least, darkly irooic. Tit• truth is
that a combirunion of factors has conuibuted in many areas of con-
n:mpomy left-wing thought to the open or surreptitious denigration
of such questions as social cl:>M, historic•! modes of production ond
forms of state power, in the marne of a coaunitment tu mUI'l:: lopicat•
4

modes of political sttuggle. Pararnoant among these facron has been

the newly """ssive turn to the political right of se.eral Western
bourgeois regimes, under p,..ssure of global capitalist nisis - a
dramatic shift in the p<>titical spe<:trum and ideological climate which
5
has suc:«eded in muong and demoralizing INIIIY of those who =lier
spoke up more combatively and confidently for a revolutionary
politics. There has been in this respect what ooe can only chanocterize
as a pen-2Sh·e f.ailurc of political nen-c, and in some cases an
accelerating, sometimes squalid prooess of accommodation by sectors
of the left to the priorities of a capilalist politia. 111 such a 0011text,
whe"' certain long-term forms of emanclpatory poUtlcs appear dtber
intrat1able or inoplausible, it is understandable that some on the
political left should tum 1110"' retdily md hopefully to alternative
kinds of is.<ues ~re more iltunediate gains miiJht s..:m possible -
issues whi<.-b a narrowly doss-based politics has too often demeaned,
tnvesticd and excluded.
To claim that this attentiotlto non-class styles of polities is in pan a
response, COilsciously or not, to the cur"'nr difficuhi<s of mo"'
traditional political a>pintioru is in no sense to unde,.alue the
intrinsic importance of these alternative mOYementS. Any project of
socialist tna.formation which hoped to succeed without an aOi:mce
,.;th such cum:nts which fully rc>pectoo their autonomy would
deliver no more than a hoUow mockery of human emancipation. It Is
rather tn rem.ind OUNielves that, jwa as a scx:Wl<t 5trltcgy which left
unaffected those oppressed in their race or- gender would be
resouncJinlly empry, so these particular fonns of opp.r<:ssion COil
themselves only be 6nally undone in the context of an end "'c:~pitaliu
social relations. The for-mer point is no,..days often enoogh
emphasized; the laner is in some danger of being obscured. The
paucity of sociaUst thought in the USA in particular- in the sociery,
that is to say, when muoh etn:~ncipatory culmral theory has been
elaborated - has gnvcly intensilioo this more general difficulty. or
the left triprych of preoccupations, it has undoubtedly been social
class which has been in such quaners the subject of the mon polite,
perfunctory bat-tipping, as the feeble American concept of'cla.<Si.,m'
bean wimci$. But the problem is a prc,;sinJ one in Europe too. We
have n<>w produced a generation of kft-inclined theorists and
students wlw.• for '""SOilS for which th.cy are in no s..,.. culpable,
have often tittk poUtic:2l mcmwy ur socialist education. Link political
memory, in the sense that a post-Viemam gc.nentiorl of radicals has
often not much of rndical political substance to remember within the
conJin"" of the W est; tittle socialist education, in that thr b<t thing
that can now be taken for granted is a close familiaritJ with the
6
 INTitOI>UCnON

complex history of international socialism and iiS anendmt thcontical

debates. We live ..,;thin societies whose aim is not simply to combot
ndical ideas - that one would ffildily ·~ - but to v.ipe them from
li\ing memory: to bring about an amnesiac condition in which it
would be as though such notions had oever aisted, pla1:iog them
bqoond our very powers of conception. In such a situation, it is •ital
that lhe more recently prominent forms of poUtical engagl:ment
should not be an owed to • ..._...., distort or overshadow the rich legac~s
of the international socialist mo••emem. I write as one born into and
brought up within a worting-cbss socialist tradition, one who has
bt:cn r<'8SC)Itably active in such politics since adolescence, and who
believe$ that any fonn of politic::ol radicalism today ¥'hich altc:mpl$ tu
b)·-poss that lineage is hound rn be impoverished. There ue now,
predominantly in the USA but also in many orcas of Europe, ~bose
who~ undoubted radicalism on panicular pulilital issues co-exists
vith an insouciance and ignorance of socialist stru"'e typical of any
middle-ciiiSS suburbanite; and I do not believe that socialist men and
vomcn should acquiesce in this inditferene< for fear ofbeinr thought
sectarian or unfoshionable.
There is a relation berv.·een lhese issues and the fa~t that one
constant theme of this book concerns the body. Indeed l am half
inclined to apologize for the modishness of this topic: fev.· literary
texts are likely to mttke it nowadays into the new historicist canon
unless th~· contain at least one mutilated body. A recovery of the
in1purtaoce of the body bas been one of the most precio~
aclili:vemmts of rceent radical thought, and l hope: that dtis book may
be ~en as extending that fenile line of enquiry in a oew dirtclion. 1\t
the same time, it is difficult to read the later Roland Barthes, or even
the later Michel Foucault, without feeling that a certain style of
meditation on the body, on p i c = and swfiiCes, zones and
techniques, hos acted among other things as a coDY<Dient displacement
of a Jess immedi>tely COIJlOTcal publics, and acted also u an mal%
kind of ethics. Tberc is a privileged, pri..rited hedonism about such
discourse, emerging as it does at just the historical point where
cenain less exotic forms of politic-s found themselves suffering a
setback. I tty in this book, then, to reunite the idea of the body ., .itb
more traditional political topics of the Sl:lte, cla.'iS conft ict ond mode.•
of production, through the mediatory category of the aesthetic; and to
this extcnr the srudy distances itselfequally from a clw politics which
1
 INTROOUcrtON

has Uttle of significance to say of tht body, and from a posr-class

politics which takes ~fuge from sucb reb.ubolivdy 'global' matteD in
the body's int ensilies.
In writing this hook, I am clearly concerned to argue agairu;t mose
crit.ics for whom any linkage of aesthetics aod political ideologies
must appear scandalous or merely bemusing. But I 1111m confcs:s tbat
I also ba-'e in my dghu those on the political left for whom the
aesthetit: is simply 'bourgeois ideology', to be worsted and ousted by
ahemadve forms of culturll politics. Th< aesthetic is indeed, as I
hope to show, a bolll!eois concept in the most literal historical sense,
hatched and nurtured in me Enlightenment; hot only for the
drastiCll!ly Ulldiall:(:ticlll thought of a vulgar 1\tanist· or 'post-Marxilot'
mnd of thought coWd this fact cue an autoi!Wic condemnation. It is
left mol'lllism, nm hi<wrical materialt<m, which having es~abli.<hcd the
bourj:eois pt'QV(:oancc of a particulor cooc-rpt, practice or institution,
then disowns it in an access ofldeoiQiical purity. f'rom the CommuniJt
Af,.,.i[nw onwards, Marxism has never ceased to sing· the pl'llises of
me buurgcuisic - to cherish and recollect that in its great
revolutionary heritage from which raditals must tither enduringly
learn, or face th< prospect of. closed, i!Hbel'lll oocialist order in me
future. Those who have now been correctly progrannned to reach for
their dcceni'I'Cd subjeetivities &t lhe very mention of lhe dread phrase
'h"benl humani.<t' reprt$$ively dioavnw the very hi<Jory vhi<:h
constitutes tl\ern, which i!l by no means uoifurmly oegolive ur
oppressive. We forget at our political peril the heroic suunJcs of
earlier 'liberal humanists' against the brutal 3urocrae~s of feudalist
absolutism. If we can and must bt: s"""re critics of Enlighteoment, it
i• Entigbtr:nrrn:ot which has empowered us tu be so. Here, as always,
the most intnctable process of emancipation is that which in\'olves
f...oing """"''""' from ourselves. o.... of the t:osks uf radical critique,
u Marx, Br<cht and Walter Benjamin undmwod, is m salvage and
redeem for left political uses whatever hi slill viable and valuoblc in
the classleg-.t.<ies to which we are heirs. 'Usc what you ea.n' is a sound
enough Breehti&n slogan - with, of course, the implicit corollary that
what rums out to be W1US1blc in such traditions should be jettisoned
without nosralgia.
It is the contr>dictoriness of the •esthetic which, I woold claim,
only a dialocti<-.al thought of this lind can adequately rnc'Ompa.,.. 'The
emergence of the aesthetic as a theoretical category is closely bound
8
 1:-"TBODUCTION

up with the material pro<:ess by which cultural production, at an early

stage of bourgeois socieryt becomes 'aut~mom()lls' - :1u1onomous, thar
is, of the vari0t1s social funclioos which it has lr.ldilionally served.
Once mefacu become commodities in the market place, they exist for
nothing and nobody in ponicuW-, and can consequmdy be r:~tionalized,
ideologically speaking, as uisting mtiRly and gloriously for them-
selves. It is this notion of autonomy or self-referentiality which the
new discourse of aesthetics is centtally concerned to elaborate; and it
is ciA:ar enough, from a radical potitical viewpoint, just bow disabling
any such idea of aesthetic •utonomy must be. h is not only, os radical
thought has familiarly in.<isted, that an L• thereby COilveniently
ocqucstcred from aU od1er social pnoctices, to become an isolated
enclave \\itbin wlti<:h the dominant social order an find an idealiz<d
refuge from its own actual values of compeoriveoess, exploitlltion and
m.uerial posscssil'eness. ltis also, rather more subdy, that the idea of
autonomy- of a mode of being wbich is entirely self-regulating and
self-determining- provides th• middle class .,.;th just the ideological
model of subjectivity it requires for its material operotions. Yet this
concept of autonomy L~ rodically double-edged: if on the one band it
pi"O\'ides a central constituent of bourgeois ideology, it also marks an
emphasis on the seJJ~detenni ning natUre of human powers and
capaciries wflich becomes, in the wort of Karl Mane and others, the
authropological foundation of a revolutionary opposition to bourgt:<li>i
utiliry. The aesthetic it at once, IS I try to shcr.r, the "''Y secret
prototype of human wbjecrivity in early capitali<tsociery, and a vision
of human <"1lcrgies as radical ends in themselves which is tho
imp1.1cable enemy of all dominam·c or instrUmentalist thou&ln. II
signifies a creative rum 10 tbe sensuous body, as well as an itJ,;cribing
of that body \\ith a subtly opprcsoive la1V; it represents on the one
hand • libuatory concern with concrete parlicularity, and on the
ot!Jer hll!ld a specious form of universalism. If il offers a generous
utopian image of reconciliation between men and women at present
dlvidtd from oru. another, ir also blocks and m)'Siilies the real political
move-nt towards such historical community. Any account of this
amphibious concept "'hich eith..- uncritically celebmres or un-
equivocally denounces it is thus llkely to overlook its real historical
complexily.
An eoaunple of sucb one-sidedness can be found, among other
places, In the later work of Paul de l\.1an, between which and my own
'-nquiri~:s I am glad to observe a cmain um:xpcctcd <.'tJnYerp:m;c.2
De J\bn's later writing represents a bracing, deeply iotri<ate
di!1TI}'!>1i6cation of the ide-d of the """"lbetic whicb, it could be clAimed,
was present in his thought throughout; and there is much that he bas
to soy on this score "'itb which I find myself in tnlire agrtement. For
de Man, aestbttic idrology involves a phenomenalist reduction of the
linguistic to the sensuously empirica~ a confusing of mind and world,
sigu and thing, cognition and percept, which is consecrated in the
Hegelian >ymbol and resisted by Kant's rigorous demarcation of
aestltetic judgement from the cognitive, ethical and polilieal realms.
Such oestllttic ideology, hy rrpresslng rhe contingent, aporetic
rdatiun which hulds between the >pbcrcs uf language and the real,
naruralizcs or pbenomer>31izcs the former, and is thus in danger of
converting dte accide/lls of roeani»g to orgonic nolur:tl process in 1lte
dutra<1c-ristic manner of ide-ological thooghL A valuable, resourcefUl
politics is undoubtedly at work here, Pol« those left·"ing critics for
whom de 11-bu is merely au tmrrgenernle 'fonnalli;t'. But it is a
politics bought at an enormous cosL In what one might sec as an
excessive reaction to his O'IYD c.uficr involvements with organici5t
ideol('brir$ of :1.11 extremt: right-wing ki1"1d, tit:- Ma.n is led 10 sup ~)ress
the potentially positive dimensions of the aesthetic in a way which
perperuates, if now in a whoOy new style, his earlier hoslilicy ro an
em.•ncipatory politics. Few critics ha\-e been more bll'\t.ly unentbused
by bodiliness- by tile whole prospe<1 of a creative d<!velopment of the
WlSUOu.~. crearurely aspects ofhuroan existenCe, by pleasure, Nature
and self-defighring po1Vers, all of which !lOW figure as insidious
aesthetic seductions ro be manfully resi5ted. The last critic by whom
one can imaJine de Man being in the least enchanted b Mikhail
Ba.khtin. One might question some of the assumptions of de M""'s
later politics - not least the. unwammtcd belief that all idrology,
without exception, is crucially concerned to 'nawralizc' or orpnicize
social practke. But there is no doubt thar de ~bn is indeed •
thuroushfy potiti<:al LTitic from the uul.sct. It i:o >imply that the
consistency of that politics, the figure in the carper ofbi• work, lies in
an unremitting hostility to the practice of politico! enoancipation. In
thill sense Antonio Gralll>('i was right wben, in a remarkable Oash of
prescience, be wrote in his f'risqn Nor~ that 'It could be asscncd
tlt>t F~ud is the la$t of the Ideologue.<, and rhar de Man is also an
•ideologuen.•l
10
 JNTRODUCTION

There an: two 111ajor omissions in this work which I should perhaps
cbril)·. The tint is of any extcnsi>·c rcfcn:rn:c to the British 1n1dilious
of a<"Sthetic thought. Readers will no doubt 6nd a number of ..:hoes
of that history, of Coleridge and Matthew Arnold and WiUi•m
Morris, in lhe mainly German writing I examirn:; but this particular
ternio bas been wdl enough ploughed 3lready, and since much in the
Anglophone tradition is in fact derivative of Gennan philosophy, I
b.a>·e thought it best to have recourse here, so 10 speak, to lhe horse's
n•outh. The other nmi.<;..;oo, pcrh:lps a more irritating one for some
readers, is of any examination of actnal works of an. Those trained in
litenry critical habiiS of thought are usually enamoured of 'concrete
illustration'; but since I reject the idea that 'thoory' is acceptable if
and only irit p<.' lforms lhe role ufhumblt handmaiden to the aesthetic
work, I have tried to rn ..lnlte this ""J'Cctadon a• far as ·possible by
remaining for lloe most part resolutely silent •bout particular
anefaciS. I must admit, however, that I did originally cun(.'Civc of the
book as a kind of doubled text, in wbicb au aceoum of Eu~
aesthetic thi!Ory would be toopled •t e•ery point to • consideration of
the literary cultnn: of Ireland. Taking my cue from a pas:;ing
reference ofK:rnt to the rcvolutioMry United lrilhmeD, I would have
looked at Wolfe Tone and his political colleagues in the context ofrhe
European EnliJhtenment, and reviewed Irish cultural nationalism
from Thomas Davis to Padraic Pe31'6e in the light of t::uropean
idealist thought. I also iotnded to homess somewhat loosely such
6gures as Motl<, J ames ConnoUy and Sean O'Casey, and to link
Niel7.sche with WUcle and YeaiS, Freud with joyce, Scbopenbauer
and Adorno wil!t Samuel Becten, and (wilder Rights, th=)
Hcidcgger l'>ith ecnain aspectS of j ohn Synge and Seamus Heaney.
The result of this amhitiou.< project woulcl have been • volume which
unly reader.. in regular wtight-uaining would have been oble to 6ft;
and I will lhereforc rescr\'C this work either for a patenred board
g-Jme, in which players would be awarded points for producing the
most fanciful possible connections between European phaosophers
and Irish writers, or fur same future study.
I hnpe it wm not be thouglu that I consider the kind of research
embodied in this book somehow prototypic.! of what mdical critics
should now most imporlllotly be doing. An anall"'is of Kant's lhird
Cririque or an inapection of Kierk.egaard's religious medituions are
banlly the most urgenttosks f:a:ing the politic:!lleft. There •re many
II
fOrms of radical cultural enquiry ol cumidcrobly gn:ater political
siKDil\can<:c than such high du:oretical-bbour; but a deeper under-
standing of the mechanisms by which political hegemony is eurrently
maintained is a necessary prerequisite oleffectiw pu61ical octiuo, and
!his is one kind of iruigln which I believe an mquiry into the aesthetic
can yield. While suth • projeet is by no means everything, it L~ nor,
perhaps, to be sniffed at l'ith.r.
I am not a professional phllosophcr, as the reader is no doubt just
about to discover; and I am therefore deeply grateful to v3rlous
friends and colleagues 1110re expert in this area than myself, who have
read this book in whole or pan and offered nuny valll2ble criticisms
and suggcstions. I must thank in panicular John Darrel~ Joy
llel'll>tcin, Andrew Bowie, Huward Caygill, Jerry Collen, Peter
Dews, joseph Fell, Patrick Gardiner, Paw Hamilton, Ken Hinchkop,
Toril Moi, Aluander Nehama.s, Peter Osborne, Stephen Priest,
Jacquc:6nc Rose and Vigdis Souse M0ller. Since these individuals
ehari~ably or carelessly overlooked my mistaku, they :m: to that
t'Xtenl partly responsible for them. I am gratdul as al.,..ys to my
cditora Philip Carpenter and Sue Vice, whose acumen and efficiency
r=ain lllldintinislted since the days of their srudcnt essays. Finally,
since I am now Jaking my leave of it, I woold like to record my
gratitude to Wadlwm College, Olford, which for almost twenty yCllrs
haB supported and encouraged mo in the building uf an Engli>h
school there true to its own klns trodilion.• of onnconformity and
critical. dissent.

1:£.

I See Peny Anderson, C..UiC<mi•m .. Wormr .Uar.rilm (London, 1'17<)),

cbap«r ~.
2 See in particubr Paul de Man. •Pbenomen:aliry md Materiality in Kant',
in G. Shapiro and A. S><a (eds), 1/mrr~lliia: Qpatiuru tmd Pmpcm
(Arahers~ M...., 198~).
3 Aotonio Gramsci, Stltai«u [nnrt tilt PtiHn NDt~. · edited and
tniUI>ted br Q!rintin Hom: and Groffrq Novt:II-So.ith (Londoo,
1971). p. 376.

12
 1

Free Particulars

!\esthetics is born as a dilicu"""' or the budy. In its original

fonnularion by the Germ•n philo$0('h<r Ale><3rN!er B•umganen, the
term refers not in the lirst pla<-e to art, bu~ as the Greek aisJksis
would suggen, to the whole region of human perception and
sensatioo, in conlnlst to the more f3rcfied domain of conceptual
thougllL Tbe distinction which the term ··~"!betic' initially elll'on:es
in the mid·ciglUeenth century is not one between 'an' and 'life', but
between the material and the immaterial: between things and
thouglliS, -tions and id=. that which is bound up with OlD'
crearurely life .. oppoud to lhat which conducts some sbada..y
existence. in the recesses of the mind. It is •s though plu1osophy
suddellly wahs up to the &ct that tlu:re is a d<:nse, .-..arming tc:rritQIJ
beyond its own meru•l enclave which thl'e3ttn< tn f:>ll unerly oobide
its S\\'liY· That territOIJ is nothing less than the. whole of our sensate
life together - the business of afleaions and a\·ersions, of how the
world strikes lhe body on its sensory surfaces, of that whicb bkes root
in the gue and the guts and all that arises from our most banal,
biologkal irumioo into the world. The aesthetic concerns this liii)St
gross and palpable dimension of the human, which post-Cartesian
philosophy, in sume curious lapse of :tUentiOn1 has somehow
managed to OYCrloolc. It is thus tht fint stirrings or a p.rimiU\'e
materialism - of the body's long inankulott rebellion agsinst the
tyralliJ)' of the theorcticnl.
T he oversight of classical philosophy was 110( without its polJtlcal
cast. For how can any political order flourish which does not addr"'-<
itself to this most tangible orca of the 'lived', of everything that
belongs to a society'S' somatic, sensational life? How can 'uperlence'
 be allow~d to fall outside a society's ruling concepts? Could it be that
this r~lm is impenetrably opaque to r<a'!Cn, eluding its categories as
sur~ly as the smell of th)l1lle ur the ta>1e of powoes? Must the life of
the body be p""n up on, as the sheer unthinbble olher of thougtu, or
are its mysterious ways somehow lllllppoble by intellection in what
would then prove a whuUy novel science, the science of sensibUity
itself? If the phrase is nothing more than an oxymoron, then !he
politic31 consequences ore surely dire. Nothing could be noore
disabled than a ruling rationality which can know II<Xhing beyond its
own concepts, forbidden from enquiring into the. very stuff of passion
and perceprion. How can the absolute monarch of Rt:~~son retain its
legitimacy if what Kant •..tied the 'rabble' of the senses n:mains
lo,._r beyond its ken? Dot:s net power require .ame ability to
an2tomize the feelings of what it subvnlinates, some science ur
concrete logic at its disJlO"'i which would map from the inside the
very s~tur<S of breadting, sentient life?
Tile ~u for an oestbeti•-s in eighteenth-<:entuey Gennany is among
other things a response 10 the problem of political absolutism.
Germany in that period was a parcdlized tenitory offeudal-<lbsoluri.<t
states, marked by 3 particularism and idiosyncra.o-;y con..trequent o.u its
lack of a general Clolture. Its princes imposed thcir imperious dikcats
through elaborate bureaucr:scies, while a "Tetebedly eJ<Ploited
peasantry languished in conditions often little better than bestilll.
Beneath this autocratk sway, an inelfecrual bourgeoisie remained
cramped by the nobiliry's mercantllist polle~s of stare-controlled
industry and tariff-protected trade, overwhelmed by !he conspicuous
power of the couns, alicnued from the degraded masses and bereft of
any corporate influence io national life. The Junkerdom, n •dely
confiscating frono the middle class their historic rule, themselves
spollSOred much of what indust:riaJ development thcn: wa.t for their
own fiscal or mililltry purp<JSes, leaving a largely quiescent middle
class to do business with the state, rather th•n fon:e the >tate tu >hape
ill; pulkic• to their own interest>. A pciValiM: lad of capital and
enterprise, poor communicatiOII$ 2nd locally based trade, guild-
donlin:ued towns morooned in • bad ward t'Uuouyside: such were the
unpropitious conditions of the Gennan bourgeoisie in this parochial,
benighted soeial order. Its professional and inteOectual stnt:l,
however, were steadily growing, to produce for the first rime in the
Iller eighteenth centuey a professional literary cas1e; and this group
14
 FilE£ PAitTICIJLUS

show.:d all the sisns of c<ening a cultural aod spiritual leadcnhip

beyond the re.1ch oflhe self-serving aristocracy. Unrooted in political
or economic power, howe\'er, this bourgeois enlightenment remained
in many respccu enmongaged to feudalist absolutism, marked by dun
profound "'spect for authorily of which Immanuel Kant, courageous
Aufoliir<r and docile subject of the king of Prussia, may be taken as
oxemplary.
What germinates in the <ighteenth century as the strange new
dis<:ounc of aesthetics Is not a challenge 10 tlw polilleal authority; but
it can be read as sympfomatic of an ideologic:ol dilenwa inherent in
absolulil.1 power. Such p<>wtT needs for its OWD plll)l05CS to tal<c
account of 'sensible' life, for without an understanding of this no
domin~n can he seo,.,. The '""rld of feelings and sensations con
Slll.ty not j~'t be surrendered to the 'subjective', to what Kant
swmfully termed the 'qoistn of taste'; in.nead, It must be brought
within the majestic scope of rea•on ilsdf. If the UbatSJlJ<h is not
rationally fonnalizable, have not all tbc most vital ideological iisues
been con<igned to some llmhn beynnd nne's control? Yet how can
reason, that most immlterial of faculties, gn>p the grossly sensuous?
Perhaps what mates lltings available to empirical k.aowkdge in the
first place, their palpable materiality, is also in a d~astlling irony
whot banishes them beyond cognition. Reason must find some way of
penetrating die 'll'orid of pem:ption, but in doing so must not put at
risl< ill; O'M1 obsolute power.
It is just this delicate balance which Baumganen's aesthetics seek
to achieve. lfhisAatiuti<4 (1750) opens up in an innm'21lve gesture
the ~>bole terrain of sen.'illtion, what it opens it up to is in effect the
colonization of reoson. For Baumgancn, uslltetic cognitioomcdiates
bel\\<een the genenllties of re:ISOn and !he paniculars of sense: the
aesthetic is that realm of existence which partakes of dte perfection of
reason, but in a 'confused' mode. 'Confusion' here means not
'muddle, but 'fusion': in their organic intei"J)!netration, th.e elements
of aesthetic representation resist thot discrimination into discrete
units which is cbatiiC1~ril.'tic of conccprual thought. But this does not
mean that such rcpresentalioru. are obscure: on the contrary. the
more 'confu<o<d' they are - the more uniry-in-wriety they attain - !be
more clear, prrf«t and dtterminatc dley become. A poem is in this
sense a perfected fonn of sensate discourse. Aesthetic unities are thus
open to rational analysis, though they demand a specialized form or
15
idiom of reason, and this is acsthc"lici. Acsthc:tics, Bawnpncn writ&:>,
is the '•ister'of lagi<:, a kind of Ntio infmor or femln!M analosu< of
reason at the lower ll!\·el of seDS36onallife. Its task is to order tltis
domain into ckar or pcrfe<:11y determinate n:pn:scntations, in a
manner •kin to (if n:latively autonomous of) the operatioll5 of reaaon
proper. Aesthetics is born of the recognition that the world of
perception and experience cannot simply be derived from abstract
unhtrS3l l•ws, bu1 demands its own appropriate discounc: and
displays its own inner, if inferior, logic. As a kind of concrete thought
or sensuous analogue of the concept, the aesthetic partakes at once of
the rational and the real, suspended between the two somewhat in the
manner of the LOvi-Stnussion myth. It is born as • woman,
subordinate to man but with her own bumble, nec=ary tasks to
perform.
Such a mode of cognition is of ,1taf imponance if the ruling order
is to understand its own history; For if srnsation is charac.,terized by a
complex indi\id.ation which defeats the g1:neral concept, so is history
il<elf. Both phenomena are morked by an irreducible particularity or
concrete dctenninateness which tbreotens to put them beyond the
bounds of abstract thought. 'Individuals', writeS Baumgarten, 'are
detennlned in every reSPCCt .•. p3rtlcular n:presentadons are In the
highest degn:e poetic.'' Since history is a question of'indi..-iduals', it
is 'poelic' in predsely this seose, a maner of determinate spccificilies;
and It would tbcn:fore seem alarmingly to faD ouuide the compass of
reasoo. What if the history of tbe ruling das.< were itself opaque to its
knowledge, an unknowable exteriority beyond the pttlt ofthe concept?
Aesthetics emerges as a theoreac.t discourse in respo- to such
dilemma.'; it is a kind of prosthesis to reason, extending a reified
Enlightenment rationality into vital regioDS which are otherwise
beyolld its reach. It C2l\ cope, for example, with questions of desire
and rhe~orical effectivity: &urngancn deseribes desire os '• ..,nsate
representation because a oonfused r<presentation of the good',' and
examines the ways in which poetic sensc-impressioll.s can arouse
particular emotive effects. The aesthetU:, then, Is •imply rhe name
given lo thai hybrid fonn of cognition which can clarify the ravo stuff
of perceplion and historical praclice, disclosing the inner Slr\ICtUre of
the concrete. Reo.son as such pursues Its lofty ends far removed from
such lowly particulars; but a working replica of itself known as dte
aesthetic sprlnJ!$ into being as a kind of copitive underlabourer, to

16
 Fllf.£ PARTICUL\aS

lutow in its uniqueness all that to ..-bieh the higher 1'03SOn is

necessarily bUnd. Because rite aesthetic exists, the dense paniculars
of percepri(>n can be made luminous to rhough1, and determlaate
concretions assembled into historiClll nanat.ive. 'Science', writes
&umg:uun, 'is nor to be dr~gged dawn to the region of scnsibilil)",
butlhe sensible is to be ~fled to the dignity ofknowledge.'' Dominion
over all inferior powers, he warns, belongs to reason alone; but this
dominion must never degenerate into I)Tanny. It mUJI rather assume
the form of what we might now, after Gr:nnsc~ term 'hegemony',
rulinl and informing the senses from within while allowing them to
thrive in all of their rclath·e autonomy.
Once in posse.sston of such a 'science of the concrete' - •n
contndicrion in terms', Schopenhauer was later to call il-lhm: is no
need to feor thot history and the body will slip tbrouglt the net of
conceptual discourse to leave one grasping at empty space. Wrthin the
dense ..-eher of our material Ufc, 1\itb all its amorphous Dux, certain
objects stand out in a sort of perfection dimly akin to reason, and
these are known as the beautifuL A kind of ideality seems to infonn
their sCIJ600us existence tiom within, rather llwl tloating above illn
some Platoruc space; so that a rigorous logic is here reveoled to us in
maner itself, felt instantly an the puls<:s. Because these arc ubje<"ts
which we can agree to be beaudful, not by arguing or an.alysing but
just by looling und seeing, a spontaneous consensus is brought to
birth wll:hin our crearurcly Ufe, bringing with it the promise that sw:h
a life, for •ll its apparent :utitrariness and obscurity, might indeed
work in some sense •ery like a rational law. Such, as we shall see, is
somethins of the rru:aOinl of the aesthetic for Kan1, who will look to it
for an elusive third way between the ngarles of subJective feeling and
the bloodless rigour of the understanding.
l'or a modem panllel to lhis meaning of the aesdledc, we might
look less to Benedeno Croce than to the later Edmund Husserl. For
Hu.,;crl's putp<J5C in Th< Crisis r( Eu~ Sa-a is precisely to
rescue the tife-..-orld from its troublinJ opacity to n:ason, thereby
rene\\illg an ()cddenml rationality which has 011 alanningly adrift from
its somatic, perceptual roots. Pbirosophy cnnoot fulfil its role as the
unm:r>'al, ultimately grounding SICiencc if it abandons the Ufc-world
to its anOTI)mity; ir must remember lhat the body, even before it has
come to thinl, is alWli)'S a sensibly erperiencing org:anism positioned
in iu world in a way quite distinct from the placing of an objea in a

li
box. Sc:icnUtic knowledge of an objective realicy is always alrudy
!"'•nded in tlti$ intuiliYe pre-given ness of things to the 11\doentbly
per<:eptive body, in the primordial physicality of our being-in- the-
world. We scientists, Husser! renwks wilh Jaim surprise, arc after all
human beings; and it is because a miSJUided r.uionalism has
ovulookcd litis fact that. European culture is in lhe crisis it is-
(Husser), 'ictim of fascism, is writinr in the 1930s.) Thought must
lhu.s round ·upon itself, retrieving the LJJm.,.il from whose mwly
depl)u it springs. in • new \minnal science of subjecli\'it)''. Such a
scic:oce, however, is not in fact new in the leut: when Husser!
adrooni., bes us tlut we mu.<t 'consider the surrou.ndlng life-world
concretely, in lts neglected rclalivily . .. dle world in wiUcb we live
inruldvely, tosclher with io real enlilics'.' he is speaking, in ·the
original sense of the term, as an aesthetician. It is not, o,f cout5e, a
questioo of surrendering oo:rsc:lves to 'this ...-bole merely suhjectWe
and apparendy iutolllpreheDSible "Heraclitcan (lux• '1 which. is oor
d.oiJy experien«, but rather of fiBorously fonnalizing it. For the life·
world ohihits a gcneml structure, and this structure, to which
0\'erytbing dutt Cld.sts relalively is bound, is not icself reiam·e. 'We can
2ttend to it in its genenlity and, with sufficient care, fu it once.and for
•ll in a v;ay equally acces<ible ro all.,.lnd..,d it rum' out cnnveoiently
cnoush that the life-world .W.:Iuses ju.st lhe same >11uctures dlat
scicntifu: thought presupposes in its consttuction of an. objecm.c
reality. Higher and I~'Cr styles o,f r.easonlng, in BaumprteniiUl
u:nns, manifest a oornmon form. Even so, th.e project of f0011alizlog
the life-world Is not • simple one, and Husser! is lnnk enoogh to
confess tbat 'OM ;. soon I>Het bJ extraordinaty .difficulties .. • every
•ground" that is reached points to further grounds, tvtry horitoo
opened up ""uens II<'W boritons' .' Pausing to console us with the
thougtu tbat this 'endless whole, in its infinily of Oowing rnove.mmt, is
oriented toward the unity of one m<2ning', HU.<Strl bruWiy undnes
Ibis solace in dle n<l<l brealh by denying that this is true 'in such • way
that W< could ever simply grasp and unders(and the whol.e '1 Uk<
Kafka's hope, it would appear that· there is plenty o,f toullty, but not
for us. The project of formalinng thc life-wnrld would seem to
scupper iiSCif before gettinl aff the lfOUIId, and witb it ibe proper
grounding of fe250n. h will be left to Maurice Merleau·Pomy to
develop this 'return to living histuy and lhc spoken word' - but in
doing SO tO question the IISSUIIIJIUOn that this is simply 'a prey.mltory

18
 FRt:E PARTtCUUJtS

step ,.ilich should be foUowed by tbe properly philosophical task of

universal consrirurlon'.' Fmm Baumg:men to phenomenology, it is a
question of reason deviating, doubling b.>ck on itself, taking a tktfJ#r
through sen... rinn, experience, ' naivety' as Husser! calls it in tbe
Vienna lecture, so that it 0.111 not h:111e tn &UI'fer the ernharra<.<ment of
arrmng at its ttlm <1IIply- handed, big with wisdom but deaf, dumb
and blind into tbe bargain.
We shaD see a little later, especially in the wort of Friedrich
SchiUer, how such a detour through sensation is potitically necessal)'.
H absolutism does not wish to !rigger n:bellion, it must make
generous aocoJ:IIlllDdatioo for S<!nsoal inclination. Yet this tum to the
affective subject is not without its pcri!J foran absolutist law. lfit may
succeed in inscribing thor law aD the more effeethlely on the hearts
and bodic• of thel5C it subjus-tes, it 101)' also, by a $elf-deconstra<:tive
logic, en= to wbjcctivizc sueh authority our of existence, clearing
the ground for a new concept of legality and political power
altogether. In a striking historical irooy recorded by Karl Marx, the
very idealist cast into ,.tuch conditions of social .baclwardncss had
fon:ed the thinking of the late eighteenth-century German middle
class led to the prciiguntion in the mind of a bold new model of social
tife as yet quite unachi ..able in reality. From the depths of a
benighted late feudal autocracy, a vision could b.! projected of •
un11>erul order of free, equal, autonomous humon subjects, obqin~
no laws but thnse which they pve to themselves. This boorge<lls
publio: >1>hm: breaks decisively with doe privilege lllld particularism of
tbe aotim rigimt, instalong the middle eb.ss, In Image If not in rc:tllty,
as a truly universal subject, :md compensating with the gl':lndeur of
this dream for its politically supine sta!U3. What 13 at stake here is
nothing less than !he production of an entirely nN lind of human
subject - one which, lite the work of an itsdf, diswvers the law in the
depths of its own free identity, rather than in some opprmive
cxtemal po101:r. The b'ber:~ted subject is the one \\ilo has appropriated
lhe law as the very principle of its own autonomy, broken the
forbidding tablets of stone on which that law was origin2lly inscribed
in order to rewrite it on !he heart of flesh. To can.o;enr to the law is
thus to consent to one1s own inward being. •The heart', writes
Rousseau in Enrilr, 'only receives laws from itself; by wanting to
enchain It one releases It; oru: only enchains It by lea\ing it free.""
Antonio Gramsci wiD write later in the Prisfm NotdN!ol:s of a form of

19
c:ivi1 society 'in wbicll tbe indi'.idual <an IJO"Cm himself "itbout
his self-gowemmenr thereby entering into conAict with poHrical
society - but r.~W.,r becoming its normal continuation, its Ol"&'lniC
complement'." 1n a classic moment in 17u S.Oal Co•fl'tltf, Rousseau
speaks of the moat important form oflaw as one 'which is 1101 graven
on tablees of mmble or bross, but on the hearts of lite cit.izens. Titis
forms ern, real c:on.-tirution of the State, takes on c.vcry day new
powers, 'Mic:n other laws decay or die our, restores lhcm or rakes their
place, keeps u people in 1he ways it was meant to go, and ill54'usibly
replaces authority by the foree of habit. I am 5p01king of murality, of
custom, above all of public opinion; a power """'"""' to political
thinkers, on which nonetheless suceess in everything else depends.'"
The ultimate binding fcm:e of the bourgeois social ordtr, in
contrast to the coercive oppantus of absolutism. wiD be habits.
pieties, sentimOIIIS and affections. And this is equivalent to uyingthat
power in such on order has become tMJtlrnitiud. It is at one with the
bod)"s spontaneous impulses, entwined wilh sensibility and the
affections, lind out in unreflecti\'C custom. Power is now inscribed in
the minutiae of subjective e>j><'rience, and the fissure between
abstract duty and pkasurablc inclination is accordingly bealcd. To
dts.olvc the w to custom, to sheer unthinking habit, is to identify it
with the human subject's own pleasurable well-being, s<> that I<>
IJllllSJress that law would signify a deep sel(·violation. The new
subjea, which bestows on itself self-referentially a law at one wilh iiS
immediate experieme, finding its freedom in its necessity, is
modeUed <m th• aesthetic artefact.
Thi.< centrality of custom, as oppo«ed 10 some naked reason, Uu at
the root of Hegel's ailique of Kantion moralily. Kant's prac:tic:d
reason, with its uru:ompn>mising appeal to abstract duty as an end in
it5tlf, smacks rather 100 much of the absolutism of feudalist power.
The aestheric theory of the Criliqut o/Ju.lgtmmt 'ugge<t:;, by contraSt,
o n:>uluu: tum tu the •ub;ect: Kant rolllins the i<ka of a uni""r>al law,
but now discovers tbis law at work in the very stnteturc of our
subjective capaciti"'- This 'bwfulness ,.itbooJ a Jaw' signifies a deft
cornpromise between mere subjectivism on the one hand. and a••
excessively abstracr reason on the other. There is inde\!d for Kant •
ldnd of 'bw' at work in aesthetic iud11emen~ but one which seems
inseparable frnm the vcry particularity of the artefact. As sw:h, Kant's
'lawfu!Dess "itbout a law' offers 1 panllel to !hat ' authority which is

20
not an authority' (17~< Soaa/ c.ntrad) which RoU$$UU finds in the
strUctUre of the ideal polilical stllte.ln both cases, a universal law of a
kind live• wholly in its free, iDdividual illcam2tions, wbclher lhese are
po6tical rubjecl< or the elements of the aesthetic artefact. The law
simp!)• is an assembly of autonomous, self-governing particulars
working In spontaneous reciprocal hannon)'. Yet Kant's rum to the
subject is hardly a tum to the IM4Ji, whn«e need~ and desires fall
outside the disinterestedness of aesthetic rastc. The body cannot be
figured or represenud within the frame of Kanlian aesthetics; and
Kant ends up ..:oordingly with a formalistic ethics, an abstract theory
of potitigl riJI>IS, and a 'subjective' but nun-scnsuuw; aesthcti&:s.
It is all of these which Hegel's more capacinll< norian of rea.<on
seeks to sw""p up and transform . Hegel rejects Kant's stem
opposilion between morality and sensuality, dr6ning instead an idea
of reason which will encomp3SS the cognitive, practical and affecti,·e
togelher. 11 Hegelian Reason does not only apprehend the good, but
so en~ges and ttansfarms our bodlly inclinatioas as to bring them
into spon~neous accord with universal rational precept>. And what
mediates between reason and experience ·here is the self-realizing
pNXis of human subjects in political life. Reason, in sbon, is not
simply a contemplatnoe faculty, bur a whole project for the hegemonic
rccoR51rU~-tion uf sllbj«-ts - . what S.yla Benhobib has Clllkd 'the
sucxe&'Cive rran...~fonnation and reeducation of inner nature•.•• Rea.,on
works uut its CJWI\ myslerious ends through human beings' ""nsuous,
self-actualiziag acti\·it)' in !he realm of Sittlidrktit (concrete ethical
Ufe) or Objective Spirit. Rational moral behaviour is thus inseparable
from questions of human happiness and ,.,If-fulfilment; and if this is
so then Hegel bas in some sense 'aesthcticizcd' reuon by ancfloring it
in !he body's affections and desires. II is not of course aestbeticized
away, dissolved to some mere h~dotili.-m or intuitionism; but it has
lapoed from the lofty Kantian domain of Duty to ~come an a<Uve,
tra&figurative farce ill nwerial life.
The ·~.,.theric' dirmnsion of this progrnmme can best be disclosed
by 511ggesting that what Hegel confronts ia emergent bourgeois
society is • conJiict between a 'bad' particularism an the one band,
and • 'bad' unnoer.;alism on the other. The former is a matter nf civil
society: it Siems from the private economic interest of !he solitary
ci Illen, who as Heset comments in the Phi/4scphy tt{Rig/tr is each Ills
own end and has no regard for others. The latter is a question nf

21
the politkal state, where these Wtequa~ ontagouislio monads are
de«ptively consdruted as abstractly free and equivalent. In thi~ sense,
bourgeois sodery is a grotuque tnlvesry of the aesdoetic artefoct,
whido harmoniously ioterrdates general and particular, univenal and
individual, form and content, spirit and sense. In lhe dWecticaJ
medium of S iuiidJ!tit, howrver, lhe subject's panicipation in
unive=l reason takes the shape at each momtnt of 1 unified,
concretely particular form of Jjfc, It is througll 'BiiiUmr, the ratioGaJ
education ofde&ire thmugll pnuis, or as we might say a programme of
spiritual hegemony, that the bond between individual and wriveml is
ccaselculy colllliruted. Knowledge, moral prac:tice and pleasurable
self-fulfilment ore thus coupled together in the complex interior Wliry
of Hegelian Reason. The etbical, Hegel remarks in the Plri/.,., 6{
Right, appears not as low but as custom, an habitual form of action
which becomes a 'second 1111ture'. Custom is the law of the spirit of
freedom; the project of education is to show individuals the way to a
new birth, converting lheir 'tint' narun: of appetites and deslres to a
stiXllld, spiritual ooe which ,.;u then become customary to them. No
longer tom asunder between blind individualism and abstract
univcrsali.sm, the reborn subject· lives iiS existence, we mlpt claim,
aesthctically, in accordance with a law which is now entirely at one
with its spontaneous being. What finally secures social order is that
realm of customary practice and instinctual piery, more supple and
reslllem 1hau obstntt riglns, where the living energies and affections
of subjects are in¥eSted.
Tbst thi!; shoald be so foDows necessarily from the social
conditions of the bourgeoisie. Possessive individualism abandons
each subject to its own prM&te Spolce, dis.lOOMs all positive bonds
between them and thnms lhem into mutual IIDiqOnism. 'By
"aruaJOillsm"', •'riles Kant In his 'Idea for a Universal History', 'I
mean !be uosociable sociability of men, i.e. their propensity to enter
inw sociery bound together with a mutual opposition wbkb coostantly
tbreate!IS m. break up the society.'" In a strikiog irony, the •cry
practices which reproduce l><nqeois sociery also lhreaen to under-
mine it. Jf no positive social hood< ore possible at the level of material
production or 'cMI 50ciety', one might perhaps look to the polilical
arena of!he state to bear !he harden of such lnterreladoilshlp. wru.t
one Jinds here, however, is a merely noriooal community of abstractly
II)'IJUDtlrical sublectl, too rarelied and theoretic to prortide a rich

22
 FREE PAA11CULARS

ezpt:rimrt of consensualil)·. On•-.: the bourgeoisie: has dismanded the

centralizing polirieal appaTllll< of al>.loluti!lr!l, either In fanwy or
reality, it finds itself bereft of scme or d~ instillltions which hod
previously organized sociol life u a whole. The question thcrcfon:
arises as to where it i.~ to locate ~ sense of unity powerful enough to
reproduce itself by. In <ronomic life, indiliduals ore smtcturally
isolan:d and antagonistic; a1 the political levtl thae would seem
nothing.bot abstnct rigbts to link one subject to the other. This is one
rt11S<m why the 'aesthetic' ffillm of sentiments, affections and
sponuMOOS bodily habitl comes to assume the sipficance it doeJ.
Custom, piery, lnruition and opinion must now cohere an otherwise
abstract, atomized $0Cial order. Moreover, once absolutist power has
been .,..,rrumed, each subject must function as Its own sear of self~
gooemment. An erstwhile centnlized authority must be parcelli7.ed
and l001lizcd: absolved from continuous political supcnision, the
bou<Jeois subject must :usume the burden of ils own iatemalized
go.emance. This is not to suggest that absolutiS( power itself requires
no such internalization: like: any successful poUtical authoriry, it
demands complicity and collusion from.those it subordinates. II is not
a question of some stork contrast between a purely l~teronomous law
on 1lu: one hand, and an insidiously consensual one on the other. But
with the growth of early bourgeois sociery, the ratio between coercion
and consent is undergoing gndtt>l tr.tnsformotion: only • rule
weighted towords the latter can effecli\-ely reJU)ate indmdlfols whose
economic activiry neeessiwes a hlgb desree of autonomy. It is in this
sense, roo, lhar the aesthetic moves into the foreground in such
condllions. Ute the worl: of an as defined by the discourse of
w;thetics, the bourgeois subject is autonomous and self-dtn:rminlng,
acknowledres no meoely extrinsic law but instead, in.some mysterious
lishion, gives the law to Itself. In doing so, the bw b«omes the form
which shapes Into hannonioos unity tbe turbulent contem of the
subject's appetites and inclinations. The compt•lsion uf tiuloctatic
p<)WI:r ill rcpbccd by the more gratifyini compulsion of the aub;ect's
self-ldenlity.
To rely on sentiment as a source o( one's socinl cohesion is not :IS
proorrious a matter u it lools. The bourgeois state, after all, s1ill bas
itS eoctci>c instruments at the ready sllould this project falter; and
wh:at bonds could in any case be stronger, more unimpeachable, than
those of the stnscs, of'natural' compassion and instinctive .Ucponce?

23
Such organic li>isons are .surely a more trustworthy fonn of pouucal
rule than the inorganic, op_pressive sllUCt\lres of absolutism. Only
when governing imperam..,s have been dissolved into <j>Ontaneous
reflex, when human subjects are linked to ·caclJ othtT in their very
Oesb, CAD a INiy corporate c><istcn~ be fashioned. It is for !his reason
that the early boiiiJ!toisie is"" preoccupied witb v;,.,,_ wilh the lived
habit of moral propriety, mther than a laborious adherence. to some
external norm. Such a beticf natunlly demands an ambitious
prop-amme of moral education and reconstruction, for there is no
3SSUnlllCe thor tbe human subjects who emerge from the ancinz rizi""
will prtM! n:6ncd aud enlightened enough for power to foond itself
on their sensibilities. It is thus that Rousseau writes the Emile md the
Nmmtlk He/oiu, intel"ening in the realms of pedagogy and se:<Ual
morality to construct new forms of subjecdviJy. Simllarly, lhe law In
The SO<itJI C•nrraa has behind it a Legislator, whose role is the
hegemonic OIM! of eduCAtillg the people to receive the law's decrees.
' lllc (Rousseauan) state', comments Ernst Cassirer, 'does not simply
address itself to already exi~ng and given subjects of the wiD; rather
irs fir..-t aim is to <mJtt the son of subjects to whom it can address its
call.'" Not just any subjcc:t can be 'interpellated', in Althnsserian
phn.!e;" lhe wk of political hegemony is tn produce the very forms
of subjecthood which will form the basis of political unity.
The virtue of Rousseau's ideal citizen lll:s in bis passionate
affection for his fellow drizen.< and for the &hated conditions ofthei<
common life. The root of!his civic •irtue is the pity we experience for
e11<:h other in the state of nature; and thls pity rcscs on a ldnd of
empathetic imagination, 'traliSpOI'Iins ourselves outside ourse~
and identifying ourselves with the suffering animal, leaving our being,
so 10 speak, in order ro take his ... Thus no one becomes seasitk·e
except when his imaginalion i& an.imated and begins to tr:mspon
himself outside of himself.'" AI the very rOOt of social relations tics
the aesthetic, """'" of all human bonding. If bOIIIJ!tQis societY
releases ill individuals inro lonely .wtQMmy, then only by such on
imaginati"" exchange or appropriation of ell(;h other's identities can
they be deeply enough united. Feeq, Rousseau claims iD i:.mlt,
precedes knowledge; and the law ofconscience is such that what 1/«1
to be right is right. Even 50, sudal harmony CO.IJDOC be f:rounded in
such sentiments alone, whic:h suffice only for lhc Slate of nature. In
the state of c:ivillzatlon, such sympath.ies must lind their formal

24
 FREE PA.R11CULARS

articulation in law, whkb in•olvcs • simil:u 'c..:hang<:' ur subjc:<:b:

'Each of us puts his ptrson and all his power in common under the
supreme direction of th<! smeral wiU, and, in our corpome capacity,
we receive uch member u an indi\'isiblc pan of the whole.'" In
Rousseau's view, for the subject to obey any law other than one it !u.s
personally fashioned is slavery; no individual is enlided to command
another, and the only legidmate law is thus of a self-conferred kind. u·
all citizens ~lienate their rights entin!ly to the community, 'each man,
in gMnr himself to all, gl\u himself to nobody', and so receives
himself back again as • free., autonomous bting. "11te citizen
•11rrendcrs his 'bad' particularism - his narrowly selfish interests -
and through the 'general ..;u• identifies instead with the good of the
whole; bt retains his unique individuality, but now in the form of a
disinterested commitment to a commolJ 1ftll-bting. This fusion of
general and particular, in which one shares in the whole 11 no mk to
one's unique spccifu:ity, resembles the very form of the ""sthctic
anc&ct - thoufb since Rousseau is Dot . , orgJUiicist thinker, the
analogy is only approximotc. For the mystery of the aesthetic object is
that each uf il> sensuous parts, while oppcaring wholly autonomou.<,
incarnates the ' law' of the totality. Each aesthetic particular, in the
very at't of deterDlining itself, regul3tes ond is regulated by all 01her
self-determining particulars. The cohcartcnintf expression uf this
docrrinc, politically speaking, would be: 'what appears as my sub·
ordination tu others is in fact self-determination'; the more cyniCll
view would run: 'my subordination to others is so effective that it
appears to me in the mystified guise of gDI'erning myself.'
The emergent middle class, in an historic dew:lopment, is newly
definilJg itsdf as a unillenal subject. But the abstnetlon Ibis process
entails is • source of anxiety for a cl•ss wedded in its robust
indr.idualism tu the concrete and the particular. If the aesthetic
intervenes bCI'C, It is as a drum of n:conciiUtlon - of individuals
woven into intimate unity with no delriment to rheir speciftciry, of
an abstract· roralily suffused with all the flesh-and-blood reality of
th<! individual being. As Hegel writes of classical art in his PhifqsqplrJ
of Fine Art: 'l"hougb no 'Yiolence is done . . . to •ny future of
expression, any part of the whole, and 1!\'ery member appear.; in its
independencx, wd rejoices in its own c:ci>b:nce, yet cadi md all is
content at die same lime to be ooly an aspect in the totll evolved
presentation.'"' Rousseau's ~neral will, as a kind of mighty totalizing

25
artefact, might be seen as imaginative empothy osswuing a rational,
objective form.
Rous<eau does nor think that feeling can simply replace rational
law; but he does hold that reason in itself is insufficient for social
uniry, and that ro bec0111e a regubti\'C IOn:e in soek:ry it m\llit be
animated by Ill"" and affection. It is rhu..< that he quarreUed will• ~••
Encyclopaedists, whose dream of reconSiructing society from pure
reason seemed to him simply ro erase the problem ofthesubjecr. And
to o•erlook the subject is to ignort tl!e vital question of political
hcgt:mony, which the ultra-rationalism of the Enlightenment is
powerless in imelf to address. 'Sensibility', then, would seem
unequivoc11lly on tl!e side of the progressn·e middle class, as d1e
aesthetic foundation of a new form of pu6ty. Yet if the consCJVative
Edmund Burke found Rousseau's sentimenralism ofTensiv<:, be was
al.\o revolttd by what he saw as his impious rationalism. Such
ratiunalism seemed to Burke just that effort to reconstruct the social
order lrom metaphysical first principles wbich was most calculated to
undermine an organic cultural 1n1dition of spontantous pieties and
affections." Rationa6sm and sentimenra6sm do indeed in this sense
go together. if a ncv.· social order is to be consuucted on the basis of
Yinuc, custom and opinion, then a radical rationalism must first of aU
dismantle the political structures of the present, >Ubmitliug their
mindless prejudices and tnditionalist pm'ileges to disinterested
critique. Conversely, both ndonallsm and an appe.lto feeling can be
found on 1M political right. Ifrhe given socinl order defen<l• itself in
Burkeian fashion through 'culrure'- through a plea for the ~ucs and
affections richly impUcir In national tradition - it will tend 10 proi'Qke
an abrasive rariona6sm from the po6tical lefi. The left will round
scathingly on the 'aesthetic' as the very locus of mystification and
irnnio!UI prejudice; it will denounce the Insidiously naturalizing
power ~>ilich Burke ha.• in mind when he comments that customs
operate better than laws, 'because they become a son of Nature lx>th
to the governors and the governed'." If, however, the existing or<kr
ratifies Itself by an appeal m absolute law, then the 'subjecrn·e'
in.stincr.s and passions which such Ln..• seems unable ro encompass cao
become the basis of • radical critique.
The fom1 which these coollicts take is partly determined by the
nature of the political power in question. In late eighteenth-century
Britain, an evolved tradition of bourgeois democracy had produced a
26
 FRt£ PAR'Tit:UUU.S

social order which sought on the whole to work 'hegemoniet1Uy',

hnwcvcr savagely coercive it could also show itself. Authority, as
Burke reconnllends, ha.~ regard to the senses and sentimenu of at
least some of its subjc.:tsj and in this situation two alternative
counteHtr31egics become avail3ble. One is ro Cl<plorc the realm of
affective life. which authurily seeks to colonhe and tllnl it against th•
insolence ol' power itself; as in some eighteenth-century cults uf
sensibitity. A ru:w kind of human subject - sensiti•·c, possion>te,
individualist - pOS<s an i~eulugical challenge to the ruling order,
clabontlin! new dimensions of feeling beyond its narrow scope.
Alternatively, the fact th•t poy.·cr utilizes feelings for its own ends may
give rise to • radical rationalist revolt against feeling itself, in which
scnsibUity is assailed as rhc insidious force which binds subjects to the
law. If, however, poliric::tl dominance a.<sumes in German fashion
more openly coerci\·e (onns, then An taesthetic' counter-stratqy - •
cultivation of the instincts and pletics over which such power rides
roughshod - C:ln always s•ther force.
Any such project, however, is likely tu be deeply ambivalent For it
is never usy to distinguish :m appeal to taste and sentiment which
offers an aht'mative to aurocrnc..J from one which aUows such power
to ground itself all the more securely in the living sensibilities of its
sohj..:ts. There is a world of poUtlcol difference between a law \\hich
d1e subject really does give to itself, in radical democratic style, and a
decree which still descends from on high but which the subject now
'authenticates'. Free consent may thu.c;; he the antithesl~ of oppressi\'C
power, or a scducti..·e ronn of (..'Ollu);ion widt it. To view the emergent
middle-class order ftom either standpoint alone is surely roo
undialecti(;l) on opproach. In one sense, the bourgeois subjecr is
indeed mystifit-d into misuWng nt-cessity for frccdum and oppression
for autonomy. For power to be individuaUy authenticated, there must
be constructed within d1e subjett a new form of inwor~ness whicll
will do the unp:tlatablc work of the law for it, and all the more
effectively since that bw has now app:trendy """porated. In onothcr
sense, this policing belongs with the historic victory of bourgeois
liberty and democracy over a oorbarously repressive state. As such, it
contains within Itself a genuinely utopian glimpse of • free, equal
commu.n ity of iodepeodeot subjecrs. Power is shifting its location
from centralized institutions to the silent, invisible depths ol' the
subject ill<elf; but this shift is also I"'" of a rrofound political
27
emanclpalion in which freedom and cnmpa.<sion, the im2gination ;md
the bodily affecrions, strive to make themselves b,anl witbin the
discourse. of a represSiYc rationalism.
·1be aesthetic, then, is from the beginning a contradictory, double-
edged concept. On the one hand, it ligures os a genuinely
cmancipatory force - as a community or subjects now linked by
sensuous impulse and fellaw-feeling rather than by heteronomous
law, each safeguanled in its unique particularity while bound at rhe
same time into social hannony. The aemelic offers the middle class a
supemly vers;uile model of their political a•pirations, exemplil)'ing
new forms of outouomy aad sdf-dctcnuination, transforming the
relalions bciWI:en law and desire, morallty and knowledge, recasting
the links between indi\idual and totality, and revisillg oocial relations
on the basis of custom, nfTection nnd >)'Jfll'llthy. On the other hand,
the aesthetic signifies what l\.bx Horkhcl.mer bas called a kind of
'internalised repression', iBSeniog social power more deeply inlo rhe
very bodies of those it subjug~~tes, und so operating as a supr=cly
effective mode of poUdeal hqemony. To lend fresh significance to
bodily plea.<ures and d riV1'.<, however, if only for the puiJ'O!>" of
colonizing them more dJidcndy, is always to risk foregroun<ling and
intensifYing them beyond one's connrol. The oesthedc as custom,
sentiment, sponlaneous impulse may conson ..-ell enough with
political domination; but these phenomena border embarrassingly on
passion, in~>gination, senswlliy, which are not always so easily
incorporabk. As Burke put it in his Appenl /rum ll:e N., tu the 0/J
Whip: 'There is • boundaJy to men's passions when they act from
feeling; nooe when they ue undtr the inlluence of imagination."'
' Deep' subjectivity LS ju.;t what the ruling social order desires, and
exa<·tly what it has most cause to fear. If the aesthelie is a dangerous,
ambiguous alTair, it Is because, as we shaH see in this study, there is
something In the body which can revolt against the power which
inscribes it; and that impulse <vukl only be eradil:llted by e.<lirpatinJ
along with il the capacity to aulhcnriean: power itself.

.\lennder Ebumgar1~m, R<forti""' '"' P.wy, tr.ansl.. ed by K. Aschen-

bm>nc r and W. D. Holthcr (Dcrkeky, 1954), p. 43. For • useful recent

28
 fRfE PAllTICIJLARS

essay oo Bautug:arter~ , xe RcxLolphe Ga sch~, 'Of aesthetic and historit.Cll

dtt~nnina tion'. in D. Au ridge. G. Rcnninl:{lon ancJ R. Ymmg C cds), P~t­
Strwauralis., .,.d lltr Quatio.• of !liuory (Cambridge, 1987). Sec also
David E. Wdlbecy, Lrui•gHafXoit:: Snnioria •m/Atsrlutia in thr Agt of
liMon (Cambridge, 1984), cb.apter Z. and K.E. GUben and B. Kuhn. A
n;,rozy ofE!lhnics (N<:<~ Yort<, 1939), chapctr 10. Yor. splendid SUI'\'C)'
of English and (Jerman amhctic• from whicb I ""'" bcnetitcd a good
deol in d!aptl"I'S I and 2. see Hownrd Caygill, 'Aesthetics and CMI
Socio:ty: Theories of Art and Society J&ro- 1790', unpublished Plo.D
lh.,;s, Uni•mity cf Su.«ex, 19A2; and <a: C.aygill, Art .;Jrulgmumt
(Oxford, 1989).
Z lbUlJ181I!en, RtjftaiiJfiS on Puuy, p. 38.
3 Quo1ed by Ernst Cassirer, 'floc l'ruk~lt.r of rk lirrliglummt"' (Doston,
1951), p. 340.
4 Eda~und Hussal, Tlu Cri1i1 of Eoropidr. Sdmm and Trrmtrmdnua/
Phtrtomm<Jkgy (Evansron, 1970), p. I5o.
5 Ibid.
6 Ibid., p. 13 ~.
7 Ibid., p. 170.
8 Ibid.
9 Mauri<e Mcrleat~-Ponry, ~igu (EvaJUton, 1964), p. 110.
10 Jean-JteqU<s Rousse>u, Emik •• dt /'l.tur4/i., (Paris, 1961), vol. IV,
p. 388.
II Antonio Gramsci, St/uri111s fntm lilt p,;,... Nor~"'· ed. Q Hoare and
G. N<IWtll Smith (London, 1971), I'· 21>8.
12 Jean-Jacques ROilS$(.tU.J 1 Tit!! Sf!tiol ConJrltd add Dismurust e d. G.O.B.
Cole (London, 1938). p. ~8.
13 S" Scyla Benhabib, cn·~ur, IV•rm. aod U"lia (New Yort<, 1986),
pp. 80-4. For the rtladon l>c:t\loecn amom and law lrt die Enli$htcnmcnt,
see 1.0. Wtdc, 1ht Srmtr~~rt allll F•rm •I rltt Frmm J::•Hghrtmr~"'t
(Prin«ron, 1977), ,.1. I, P•n I I.
H lkuhabib, CritW,u~. Nfnm, ~ttul l ilt.¢itt 1 p. 82.
15 Immanuel Kan~ '!d .. fO< a Uniwul History', in I. Kant, 0. His~<>ry,
cd. Lewis '\\'bile Beek (Indianapolis, 1963), p. 15.
16 EmSt Casru<r, The Qumio• of ]ta11·} arqon R • .,,., (Bioomincron.
1954), PI'· 62-3.
17 Sec t:.ou~ Ahhu:~n, 'Ideology und ldeolngical State 1\pparatus.es', in
1-.in DN1 PJ.iloroplty (London, 1971).
18 Ro~W«u, £milt, -.ol. IV, p. 261.
19 RoiiSScau, 'flo< SOli•/ C.alnltt, p. 15.
20 G. W. ~·. Hcgtl, 7.,.., Ploii•Jop/ty o{Fi,.. Art (I..<HMinn, 1921\), W<~. I I, p. 10
(traDSlalioo slightly ameTKicd).

29
Zl Sec Annie Marie O.hom, R""'"""' anJ IJ•ri< (l.omkm, 1941)), • wmt
"'hich :.t ,..ne (l(lint ~ly !iJleak.co ornurke :~.or; :m Englishman. See alw,
for Ro......u's po61ial thought, j. 1-L Broome, Ruwst•o: A Stud! ofhis
71unspt (London, 1963): Stephen El<nbUJS, &.alldui Poliri<W PbiloJoplty
(lthac., 1976): Rorer D. Moster, Tlot P•liriMI Plri/o,.ky of RD•=•
(l'rillc.,on, l908); Lucio CoU<rri, 1·, _ I(..,,_
tD U.in (London,
19n), Pmt 3.
22 EJmund O..rke, A" Alm.JV"""t •f 6-#is/. flutnry, quoted in W. J. T.
Mitchell,/co,.qy (Chito«<>, 1986), p. J.IO.
Z3 17re W•r.ts of UmOJIII 8uW, ed. Geors< t'<ldlols (&.ton, 1865-7),
•'01. 4, p. 192.

30
 2
The Law ofthe Heart:
Shafiesbury, Hume, Burke
While the German middle dass languished beneath the yoke of
nobility, their English counterpartS had been energetically at work
transforming a social nrder still he:t\ily aristocr>tic in nature to lheir
own advantage. Uniquely IUDong European nations, lhe English
landowning etite had itself tons been a capitalist dass proper, already
accustomed to wogc labour and commodity production as early as the
sixteenth ~cntury. They thus auti•'ipolted by o C011$iderable period lhot
con•ersion from feudal to e.pitalist agriculture which me Prussbn
JIIDkerdom wooold accomplish, more partially and pr=riously, only
in the ,.'3kc of ils defeat in the Napoleonic ..·ars. At once the most
51:1ble and wealthy estate-owners in Europe, lhe English patriciale
succeeded superbly in combining high copi~alist producti\-ity 011 the
b.nd ,.;th an en•iable dqree of cultural solidarity and unbroken
continuity. It,... within this unusually faYOilfllblc matrix, offering at
once lhe general p~tions for furlher capitalist development and
a resilient polirlc1J framework 10 safeguard it, lhot the English
mercantile class was able to inaugnrntc its own key lnstirutioos (the
st~k cxdlaugc, the Banl or England), and secure the predominance
of its """' form of polhieal Stall: (parliament), in the aftermath of
the 1688 revolution. Under ll•ese propitious conditions, Britain was
able to emerge in. the eighteenth century as tbe world's leading
oommercial power, vanqulshlng irs foreign mals and c~ttcndlng its
imperial swoy across the globe. By the mid-eightreoth century,
London bad b<COIDc. the largest centre or internatiooal 1111de, d1e
premier pon and warehoiiSc of the world, ahd witnessed lhe forging
of some spectuculur fommes. The Hano•erian state, staffed :and
conrrollcd 1>7 me aristocracy, protected and promoted mercantile
intcn:sts with impr=i>c zeal, se<:uring tor Srilain a rapidly expanding
economy and an immenoely profit:1ble empire.
In l!ighlftmth-century Bri1ain, tl1en, we encounter :1 robust, weU-
fo~mdt·d unity of agrarian and m<rcantilc interests, accompanied by a
marked ideological NPPTf>dtcmatt between new and traditional social
elites. T ht! ideali>-ed self-imoge of tht~ ruling social bloc L< less of
a
itself as a 'state' class than as 'public sphere'- a political fonnation
rooted i.n civil society itself, whose mcmbcn arc a1 once stoutly
individuolist ond linked to their fellows by enlightened social
intercourse and a shared set of cultural manotn. Assured enough of
its political and ecooomic stability, this governing blo<: is able to
disseminate some or its power in the forms of a general culture and
'civility', founded II.'SS on the potentially di•isi,.., realitres of so6al rank
and ecooomk interest than on common styles of sensibility and a
hnmogeneoos reoson. 'Civilized' conduct takes i1s cue from tr.>dilional
aristocral~m: its index is the Ouent, spontaneous, taken-for-granted
vinue of the gentleman, nthcr than the earnest conformity to some
extenul law of the petty bourgeois. Moral standards, while still
implacably absvlute in themselves, may thus be to some extent
diffused into the textures of personal sensibility; taste, affc<'t and
opinion testifY mon: eloquently to one's paniciparioa in a uni>c...J
common sense ch:an either mon.l menunu.~aeu or ideological
doctrine. Bo1h of these now carry with th.. m omi.nous remin.iscences
or. disruptive puriranisra. Yet if the prototype of this pubtic sphere is
drawn from 1M realm of gentilil)", the predominance it grants to
individual sensibility, the free dreulation of tnlightened opinion, and
the abs11'3ctly equalized starus ofits socWly diverse participants, mark
i 1 also as a peculiarly bourgeois sociol formation. A community of
sensibility consorts as well v.ith the bourgeois's stvut empiri<-ist
disregard for metaphysical abstracrion, and also with his deepening
domestic scntlmentali.sm, .as it does with !hat carelessness of
d>eoreticol justification which i• the bodgt of aristoaacy. For both
stratll, an abstract raticmalism DOY.' >ioisterly recaUs the me12physical
excesses of the Commonwcahh. If social power is to be dJccrivdy
naturalized, it musr somehow take root in the sensuous immediacies
of empirical life, beginning with the offective, appetitive individual of
civil society, and tracing from there the affiliatiuns which might bind
him to a greater whole.
The project of early German aestheti<.~ as we have seen, is to

32
 THt: L\W ot· nn: Ht:AK"r

media1e berwcen general and particular, elaborating a kind of

concrete k>gic which will clarify the stnsmy world withou1 abs~ncrlng
it away. Reason must gran1 ~~)erience its peculiar density) y,ithoul
aUawing il for a moment to esc.pc: and this is bardly an e.asy tension
tu mainlnin. The proto-ma(erialisr impulse or this project soon
surrenders 10 a fuD-bluwn formalism; indeed no sooner lws senSlllion
been ushered into the court of reason then it is subjected to a rigorous
disLTiminatiun. Only cerl:tin sensations ore fit subjec1 for aesthetic
enq uiJy; and this means for the Hegel of the Pltil,uphy of Finr Art
on!)•sight and hearin~:, senses whkh >re, as he says, 'ide.tl'. Vision for
Hegel is 'appetileless'; all true looJ.:ing is without desire. There can be
no aesthetics of odour, texture or flavour, which arc mere debased
modes of aocess to the world. 'Bonicher's mere feeling with rhe hand
of rhe effeminately smooth portions of >"talucs of goddL-sscs', HL-gcl
re!IW"ks frostily, ' is not a pan of •rtistic contempbtion or cnjoymenr
at a11.·1· Reason, then, in some sense sel~ts those ~n.:eptions which
already appear to co Dude with it. The aesthelic representation of a
Kant i< quite a.• unsensualas the concept, expemog the materiality of
iiS object. But if German rationalism has a problem in descending
from the universal to !he particular, the dilemma of British
empiricism is quite the reverse: how 10 move from the perticular ro
the general without the laner merely collapsing back into the former.
If rntionatism is politieoDy vulneuble, it is because ir ri.<ks a mere
empty totalization which expels tho experiential; if empiricism is
polirlcaUy problematic, it is because it has difficultY in totdizing at all,
mired as it is in a web of particulars. It is the impossible conundrum
of a 'science of the concrete': how is a ruling order to root itself in the
sen~l()usly immedi:ne, ) et elabor:ne this into something mort:
1

tvmpcllin~; than a heap of fragmenl>' Empiricism rub cnJing up

trapped here in rome intolerable impasse, eirher undoing its own
tot:di.:tations at e~ry sttp, or subn'Tting imme:di:u.:y in the ¥try e«ort
to ground it more securely. If rati"""lism feels the need to
supplement itself with the logic of the acslhcrlc, then i1 would seem
that empiricism was all along too oesthetic for its own ~:DDd . How is •
!ltought already su thoroughly sensationalized lu break the hold of the
body ll\'cr it, drag itself free of the clammy embrace of the senses and
rise to somcthin~ a little m<>re conceptually dit;ni6ed?
The auswer, perhaps. is that there is no need. Could we not stay
with the senses themselves, aDd find there our deepest relation 10 an

:13
ovcnlll ratiorul design? What if we could dL.caver the trace of SU(:h a
providential order on the body itself, in irs most !;ponllllleous, pre·
n:Ocxivc in>tincrs? Perhaps there is somewhere within our immediate
e!I'J)erience a sense \\ith aU the unerring inluilion of aeslhrtic raste,
wbkb discloses lhe mom! order to us. Such is the celebrated 'moral
scnoe' of lhe British cighteeoth-ceruury moralists, wbich allows us to
C!I'J)erience right and v.TOng with all the swiftness of the senses, and so
Jays the grOtllldwurk for • social cohesion more deeply felt than any
mere rational totality. If the moral values which govern social life are
as self-evident as the taste of peacltt$, • guod dt'lll of dismpti,·c
wrangling ' 'm be di>pcns"d with. Socicl)' .. a whole, gil·en its
fragmented condition 1 is increa.<~~.ingty op1que to tOt3liZing re-MODi it is
dinicull to distt'fll any mtiunal design in the worltings of the market
place. But we might rum ne-.nheless to what scerru the opposite or
all that, to the stirrings of individual sensibility, and find there instead
our surest incorpontion into a common body. In our natural Instincts
of bene,·olence and compassion wr are brought by some providential
law, itself inscrutable to reason, into harmony with one anothc:r. The
body's affections are no mere subjective whims, but the key to a weD-
ordered state.
Morality, then, is becoming stt:llday acsthcticizc:d, and this in two
related senses. It has been moved closer to the springs of sensibility;
and it concerns a vimoe whi£h like the artefact is an end in itself. We
live well in society neither from duty nor utility, but as a deli~rhtful
fulfilment of our nature. The body has irs reasons, of which the mind
III2Y know linle: a benign providence ha.' so txquisitely adapted our
fuculties to irs o"n ends as w make it keenly pleasW'IIble w .realize
them. To follow out our self·dctightiug impulses, provided they are
shaped by reason. it< um•itringly to promote the cornmon good. Our
sense of monlllty, the E:tr1 of Shaftcsbury argues, consists in 'a real
anripathy or aversion to injustice or "Tong, and in a real affection or
love towards equity ond right, for its Oll1l sake, and on ac•-ount of its
natural beauty and worth'.' The <lbjccll; of moral judgement an: for
Shalfe.~bur;· a~ immedi.ately attractive or repul11ive 3.~ lhMe of
aesthetic tnste, whicio is not to convict him of morn! subj(!(tivism. On
the <'<lDir.tl)', he bclit:Vcs strongly in an ab>oluto:, objct'liw moral law,
rejects the suggestion th•r immediate feeling is a sullicient oondition
uf the good , and holds tike Hegd tltnt the moral sense must be
educated and disciplined by re-ason. He also rcj<-ct:s tbc hedonist

34
 TH.E L.~W OF TilE IIEART

creed that the sood is >imply what ple-JSc:s us. Ewn so, all moral
•ctlnn for Slultesbury mu.;t be mediated through the aiTec:rions, •nd
what is not done tb.rough affection i s ~imply non-muraL Beauty, trutl1
and goodness arc ultimately at one: what is beautiful i• hannonious,
" 'bat is h.umonious is true, and wlut is at once true and be:tutiful is
agreeable and good. The morally virtuous indi•idual li1•es with the
grace and symmeuy of an anelact, so that virtue may be known by its
irre.listible aesthrtic appeal: 'For wlut is then: on e:trth a fairer matter
of sp<~-ulation, a goodlier •iew or contemplation, !han that of a
beaudful, propottion'd, and becoming actionr' Politics and aesthetics
are deeply intertwined: to love ond admire be-•uty is ' ad•antagrous to
sO<.ial afli:ction, ond .highly assistant to Yinuc, which is illidf no other
tlun the lo-e of order and bt3uty in society'.' Tnoth for this P"Ssed-
over Platonist is an anistic IIJ'PI"'hension of the world's inner design:
to undelSiand something is to grasp its proportioned place in the
whole-, and so is at r.nce cognitive and ae~thetic. Knowledge ls a
creati•e intuition which discloses the d)l\llll\ic fonns of Nature. and
has about it a brio and exuberance in.""p•rable from pleasure. Indeed
Nature for Shafiesbwy is itself the supreme artefact, brimful with ull
possibilities ofbeiag; and ro kDow it is to share in both the ereati'oity
and the sublime dlsinterestedne.s nf its l\'laker. The roOf of the idea
of the aesthetic is rhus rheologic•l : like the work of art, God ami his
world an: autonomous, autotelic and utterly self-dctennining. The
ae•theric is • suirably secod.ui>ed version of the Almighty himself, not
least in its blending of freedom and necessity. Mere libeninism must
be rejected for a freedom based on law, restraint seen •s the •err basis
of emancipation: in the work nf art, ac; in the world in general) 'the
uuly austere, severe, and regular, rcsrrainti•·e charaCter . . .
corresponds (not fights or thwarts) "'ith the free, the easy, the secure,
the bold . ~
As the grandson of the founder of the Whig party, Shaftcsbury is a
firm upholder of civic liberties, and in rhis sense an eloquent
spol<esman for the bourgeois public sphere of eighteenth-century
Ensland. Yet he js also a notable traditionalist, au ari>10<.Tatic neu-
Plamnilll fiercely anagonlstic to bourgeois utility 2nd self-interest.'
Horrified by a nation of Hobbesian shopkeep<rs, Shaftesbury spe.'ll<s
up for the 'acsthl1ic' as its altemoti>·e: for lllt ethics ent-.incd with the
sensuous affections, and for a human nature which is a self-
pleasuring end in itsdf. In this sense, he is able to furnish bourgeois

35
sociecy, iicm his troditional aristocratk rcsour<:cs • ..;th some rather
mor< edifying, eJ<periential principle of uniry than its political or
economic prnctice <1ln pro\ide. His philowphy unites the absolute
law of the old school "ith me subjective freedom of the new,
sen.su:iliring the one while spiritualizing lhc other. His genially
aristocratic trust !hat sociality is rooted in the very structure o( lhe
human animal runs counter to the whole of bourgeois practice; yet it
con supply just the fell, intuitive tinks between indmduals that the
middle class url!"ndy needs, unoble a< it is to derive any such positive
corporate existence from either market place or potitical state.
Shoftesbury is ln this SCJ1$e a central architect of the new political
hegemony, of justifi.d European ren0\\11. Cusped conveniendy
between traditionalism and progress, he introduces the bourgeois
public sphere to a rich humanist heritage, acsthcticising its social
n:Litions. But he also clings firmly to thot absolute rational law which
will prC\'Cnt such relations from lapsing into mere libertinism or
sentimentalism.
To live 'aesthetically' for Shafiesbury is to flourish in the well-
proportioned exercise of one.'s powers, conforming to the law of one's
free perso!Wity in the casual, affab!J:, taken-for-granted sty!J: of the
stereotypical arutocrat. \\ihat the middle class can learn from this
doctrine is its stress on autonomy and self-determination - its
deconstrUction of any too rigid opposition between freedom and
necessity, impulse a!ld law. If the wtocnt gives th< law to himself
indhidually, the bourgeoisie :>spires to do so collectively. To this
extent, the middle class inherits lhc ..sthetic as a legac')' from its
superiors; but some aspects of it are more usabl< than others. The
aesthetic as lhe rich, all-round development of human capacities is
bou!ld to prove something of an embarrassmem for a class whose
economic activity le<Wes it spiriruaUy impoverished and one-sided.
The bourgeoisie can appreciate the aesthetic as self-autonomy, but
mucb less as W<!alth of being, re-.W..cd purely fur it> own sub:. By tl1e
time it bas embarked upon its industrial career, its leadeo, repressive
Hebrilim will seem tight years removed from Schiller's 'grace',
Burke's 'cnjoymen~ or Shaftesbury's delight in wit and ridicule.
'Wealth of being', indeed, will become in the hands of Arnold, Ruskin
and Wtlliam Morris a I'O"'·erful critique or middle..:lass indi\idualism. If
the aesthetic is in J)arta bequest from nobiUty to middle class, then, it

36
 THE L\W OF ntE HEART

is a divided, ambivalent one- • set of key concepts for the new social
order, but also for the critical tndition wbich opposes iL
In the 'moral sense' philosophers, ll>en, ethics, atsll>erics and
politics are dra¥.-n hormoniouslr together. To do good is deeply
enjoyable, a self-jusril)mg function of our norure beyond ail cross
un1iry. The moral sense, as Francis I!uu:beson argues, l< 'antecedent
to adv:ontag.: •ml interest and is the fatutdalion of them' .' Like
Shafle$bury, Hutcheson speaks of vinuous actions as beautiful and
vicious ones as ugly or deformed; for him too, runntl intuit.ion is as
swift in its judgements as aesdtetic tiiStc. •Human society\ writes
Adam Smith in his Theory •J~Woral Smlimmts,

when we cont<mplate it in a cenain abstraC1 and philo-

sophical light, appears like a great, an immense machine,
whose regular ond harmonious movements produce a
tbousand agreeable elfectt. 1\s in any other bcaudtUJ and
noble machine that ,..., the production of hunun an,
wbat(."\\Cr tended to render its m~cmc:nts murc smooth
and easy, woW<! derive a beaury from tbis elfect, and, on
the comrary, whnever tended to obstruct them would
di>l'k-.sc on that account: su virtue, whicb is, 3S it were,
the 6ne polish to the wheels of sociecy, necessarily pleases;
while vice., like the. vile rust, which makes them jar and
grate upon one onother, is as necessarily olfensi'"'·'

The whole of social life i.< aestheticized; •nd what this signifies is a
social order so spontaneously cohcsi\·e tbat its members no lOJllll'r
need 10 think •boot it. Vinue, the usy habit of goodness, is like an
beyond all mere calculation. A sounJ political regime is one in which
subjects conduct themselves gnccfuUy- where, as we have seeo, the
law is no longer external to indi>iduals but is lived out, witb fine
cavalit:r insouc;.:lance. as the vcry principle of their free identities. Such
an internal appropriation of the law is at onoc contralto the work of
an and 10 the process of political hegemony. The aesthetic is in this
sense no more tban a mme for the political unconscious: it is simply
th.e way socilll h•nnooy registers i~>elf on our scns<:>, imprints itself
on our sensibilities. The beautiful is just political order lived out on
the body, the way it srrikes the eye and stirs tlte heart. If it is

37
ine>'Pl.ic:thle, beyond •II r>rionol debate, it i$ bec•use our feDow$1\ip
with others is lilrewist- beyond. all reason, as gloriously puinlless as a
poem. The socially disruptive, by conrnst, is as insuntly offensive a<
a foul smeU. The tutily of sociltl life sllStlins itself, requiring no
further legitimation, anchored as it is in our most primordial instinCIS.
Like the - rk of an, it is immune from 111 rational analysis, and so.
from aU r>tional criticism.
To aestheiicize morality and society in this " '"Y is in one sense the
mark of a serene confidence. If moral rc_qx~nsu are as self-evident as
dte taste of sheny, then ideologiC111consensus must. nto deep ind~ d.
What more- llattcring complim<nt cuuld there b< to the rati<Jnality of
the social whole tlun th:U ...e apprehend it in the least reRecriot
aspects of our li.,..,s, in the most npparenlly private, wayward of
sensations? Is there even any need for some cumbenome apparatus of
law and lhe slate, ynking· us inorganicoUy together, when in the
genial glow of ben.,.oleoce we L'llll experience uur kinship with
others as immediately as a delect~ble rastei In anocher sense, one
might argue, moral sense theory tesrifies to a bankrupt tendency of
bourgeois ideology, forced to sacri6o:e the prospect of a mtifflal
toullty to an inrultl\'elogic. Unable to found Ideological consensus in
its actual social relllrion.s, to derive the unity of humankind .from the
anarchy of the market place, the ruling order m...~. ground that
consensu.< instead in the sruhbom self-evidence of the gut. We know
there is more tu social existence than self-interes~ boot use we fool it.
What cannot be socially demonstrated has to be taken on tiith. The
appeal is at once empty and potent: feelings, unlike propositions,
C11Dnot be controverted, and if a social order ""ds to be rationally
justified lhen, one might claim, the Falllw already happened. Yet to
found society on intuition is not "ithout its proolems, as the critics of
these theorists were quick to see.•
If the moral sense philosophers help to oil the wheels of political
hegemony, they also provide, contradictorily, what con be read o.< a
discourse of utopian critique. Speaking up from the Gaelic margins
(Hutcheson, Hume, Smith, Ferguson and others), or from a
threatened t.raditional culrure (Sbaftesbury), these thinkers denounce
possessOie individualism and hourgenis utility, insisting tike Smith
that me maladroit workings of reason can never render an object
agreeable or disagreeahle to the mind fur its own sake. Before we
ha•e even begun to reason, there is already that faculty within us

38
 TilE LAW Of TilE HE.U!T

which makes us f<:cl lhc sufferings vf others as keenly as a wound,

spun us to lux.u.Ute in onother's joy with no sense of self-•dv•ntage,
stirs us to detest cruelly and oppression. like a hi<kous wound. The
disgust we feel at me sight of I}Tanny or injustice ·is as previous to aU
rational calculation as the retching ooo•sioned by some noxious food.
The body is anterior to self-intere5ted rationality, and wiU force its
in&rinctual approbations and aversions upon our sncial practice. The
•icious, Shaftesbury considers, must certainly be wretched; for how
could someone violate the very core of his or her compassion.ue being
and still be lt~ppy? Tite Hobbesi•n ideology is fatally fl•wed, and
bound ro come to grief: how con my vision $urvivc which llattcns aU
that makes men and women wha1 they are - their tender delight in
each other's weU -being, their relish for hunllln company as an end in
itself- to this base caricature? If til ere is no developed longuage of
political protesr again.<t such a tr:n·esty, then at leasr thue is
the ae..-thetic, the very >ign and modd of disintcrcstednt:SS. Dis-
interestedness here means lndilfC:Nnce not to others' interestS, but to
or"''s own. The aesd..:tic is dte <nemy ofbolfll!eois egoism: to judge
ac:sthctically m<:ms to bracket as lir as possible ot>e's own peny
prejudices in the name of a common general hUID3llily. It is in the act
of laste abu.e aU, Oa•;d Hume argues in his essay 'Of the SWtdard of
Tasre', that 'considering myself as a mm In general, (I mustflilrger, if
possible, my individual being, •nd my pe..-uliar circwnstauccs'.'•
Acsthttic disinterestedness invof>·cs a radical dccentring of the
subject, subduing its sdf-reg:ud to a commuoity of sensibility with
others. It is thus in its vacuously idealist way the image of a generous
new conception of social relations, the enemy of aU sinister interests.
Only the imagination, Adam Smith considers, can furnish an
autllentic bond between indi\iduals, carrying us beyond the selfish
compass of the senses into mutual oolidarity: '[our senses] ""ter did,
and never can, carry us beyond our OwtJ person, and it is by the
imaSinadon only that ..,.. can l0rm any conception of what are (the
other's) sen<ations'." The im•ginatinn is !Niler than sense but
stronger than reason: it is the precious key releasing the empiricist
subject from the prison-hOIISI: of its perceptions. If tile access it
alloo;s us to ot.,.,rs is poorer than direct boday e>']lffiene<>, it is at least
more immediate than r""son, for which the •·ery reality of others is
bound to remain a spccubn.e 6crion. To imagine is to havt a kind of
image, suspended somewhere between percept and cnne<>pt, of what
39
it feels like to be somebody else; and the mont! sense philosophers....,
cominced that nothing less than this will ever be ideologically
dTtctive. Shaftesbury, Hutcheson and llume are deeply saprical of
the power of mere rotional comprehension to move men and women
to potiticaiJy virtuous action. From this viewpoint, the British
rationalist thinkers emerge as d:mgerously deluded: pu" ·eyors of an
abstract ethics, they wantonly efide the entire medium of S<."llSCS aad
senli.mems through whlcb alone such imperatives could take on flesh
in hum:m lives. The aesthetic is in this sense the r~by or transmission
me.chaaimt by which theory is converted to practice, the detour taken
by ethlcal ideology through the feeUng,s and sei!Ses so as to reappear
as sponlllneous social practice.
If to acstheticizc morality is to make it ideologically ctTccm·c, It is
also to ri<k luving it theorericaUy dtsa...,.,d. ' Our idea.< of morality, if
this account is rigl11\ complains the ratiooalist Richard Pric.:e, 'have
the same orilin with our ideas of the sensible qualities of bodies, lbe
hannony of sounds, or the beauties of painting •nd sculpture . ..
Virwe (as those who embrace this schc:mc say) is an alhir of taste.
Moral ri!lht and wrong signify nothing i• tbe o/Jjeas llrmut!M to which
they ~re :.pplied, :any more than agrt:eablt: and h:trsb.; sweet :md bitter;
pleasant and painful; but only m1am rjfrliJ in w . . . Anour discoveries
•nd b03Sted knowledge vani<h, and the wbole universe Is reduced
into a creature of fancy. £very ,.,ntiment of every being is equally
jusr.'" Price Is a miUtant and-aeslhetician, scandalized by this
rampant subjecri\:i2ing of \'alues.. The senses and the imagination can
take u.s nowhere in morn! enquiry, but m~t yield to the understanding.
Is tonurc wrong merely because we lind it distasteful? If the moral,
like the aesthetic, is a quali~ of Ollr responses to the object1 are
actiuns mere blank t<'lts culourt-d simply by our ·scnli.ments? And
what if those sentimcnll! di.sagrcel
U113ble to derive v:Uues ITom facts - which is to s:~y, to ground
moral ideology in boutgeois social pntCticc- the moral>ense theorists
tum instead to the nolion of \'alue as autotelic. Hut they do thls, so
their opponents el.lim, at the cost of aestheticizin~r it •w•y, dissolving
it into the Yllgaries of subjectivism. In seeking to lodge an objective
ethics more securely in the subject, they end up dissevering the two,
leaving a delicate sensibili1y confronting • commodified object
stripped of its inherent properties. To be sc:mimcnul is to consume
less the object itself than one's own fine ftclings about IL If ideology

40
 TH£ L\W OF THE HEART

is to work efliciendy, it must be pleasurable, intuitive, :iCtf-ratirymg: in

a word, aes~tie. But this, in a striking p•radOO<, is exoctly what
threatens to undennine its objec-u.e force. The '""Y move of inserting
ideology more deeply in the subject ends up by subverting itself. To
aestheticize moral wlue is in one sense to di~lay an enviable
confidence:: vinue c-onsists fundamenllllly in being on.,., If. Yet it also
betrays a considerable an.'Ciety: vinue bad bencr be its own reward,
since in this sort of society it i• unlikely to receive any other. We ha•e
somclhing liner 1111d subller than the concept to bind us into
mutualil)', namely a sentiment which appears evety bit as metllpbysially
founded as one's taste in stockings. To appeal to rational fotUtdat.ioos,
on the oth.er hand, would seem Iiiii<: more of a solution in a society
where a rational grasp of tbe whole, granted that it· is even possible,
seems to have little influence on actual behaviour. The nding onler is
a<:cordingly cougln: between a rational ethia which sectru ideologially
ineffectual, and an affectively Jl"l'liUasive theory which apJl""rs to
rest on nothing more intellectUally rq~utable than what Richard
Price scornfully tem\S 'a species of mental taste'.
Shaftcsbury's unity of ethic.< and oesrherics. virtue and beauty, is
mOSt evident in the concept of manners. Mannen for the eighteenth
century signify dt•t mer.iculous disciplining of the body which
comerts morality to style. dccunstrurti.ng the "''positi<m between the
proper attd the pleasurable. In these regulated farms of civilized
coodw:t, a pervasive aesthtticizing of social pn<:tices gets onder w•y:
moral imperatives no longer impose themselves with the leaden
weight of «>me Kantlan duty, but inliltnte the veey rexrures of lived
exp<ricuce as tact or lmow·bow, intuitive good serue or inbred
decorum. If the process of hegemony is to be successful, ethical
ideology must lose its coercive force and reappear u a prindple of
spontaneous oonsensus within social life. The subject itself is
accordingly aesthedcized, livinJ with aU the instincNal rigbmess of
the artefo.:~ Like t.he work of an, the human subject lntrojects the
codes which govern it as the very 501ltte of its free autonomy, and .so
comes in AlthuS11Crian phrase to work 'aU by itself', without need of
polirial coft!traint." That 'la..1Uincss without a low' which Kant will
lind in the aesthetic representation is first of all a maner of the social.
~. which seems to worl< with an the rigorous enoodcmtot of.
rational Jaw, but where sw:h a Jaw is never quite abstraaable from 11\c
concretely pani<:ular conduct which instantiates it.
+1
 The middle dll$$ has woo certain historic •ictoric> within politial
sociery, by dint oflong •rruggte; bur the problem with such srrum:Jes
is that. in rendering the Lot"' perceptible :ts :t diseours~ they threaten
to denaiUl'lllizc it. Once the law of authoril}' is objectified through
political conflict, it becomes i~lf • possible object of contemtion.
L.gal, poHtkal and .,.;onomic transfonn•ti<>ns mu,;t therefore be
translated into new forms of unthinl:ing social practice, which in a
kiod of <native repression or amnesio can c"""' to forget the very
conventions they obey. his thus that Hegel writes in the Plrmo~M~oleg
ofSpirit, with a sardonic eye on Sllbjecti>ism, of ' the blessed unity of
the law with the he11It'. 1' Structures of power must become structures
of fccliog; IU1d the ac$thetic ~ 11 ..itaJ mediation in this ~hift from
property ro propriety. Sh2ftesbury, comment< ),;msr c:a..s;,., ""!Uires a
tl1eory of beamy 'in order to answet the question of the tme
fashioning of character, of lhc law governing lhc stru<1Urc of the
inward personal world'." 'Manners', writes Edmund Burke,

arc more important than laws. Upon them, in a gn:ar

me3.SW'e, the Jaws depend. The Jaw touches us bur here
and there, and now and then. Milllners are what vu ::and
soothe, corrupt or purify, exalt or debase, barbarise or
refine us . . . They gi•·c their whole form and colour to our
lives. ACC(Irding to their quality, they add mor3.IS, they
supply them, or they totaUy destroy tlu:m.'•

We encounter the law, if we are lucky, only sporadicolly, as an

unpleasandy coercive power; bur in the aesthetics of social conduct,
or 'culture' as It would later be called, the Ll.w is always with us, as the
very unconscious struct.ure of our life. [f politics and aesthetics, virtue
and beaury, are deeply at one, it is because pleasurable cooduct is the
true Index of successful hegemony. !\ graceless \inue is thus
sooaerh.ing of a contradiction in term.-;, since vinue is that cu]tivarion
of the instincti•·• habit of goodness of whiclt social fluency is the
ourw:1rd expression. The maladroit or aesthetically di:sproponioned
thus signals in its modest way a certain c.risis of political ·power.
lf the ac.sthctic comes in the cighleentb century to assume the
signiJieance it does, it is beeouse the word is sbonhand for a whole
project of hegemony, the massive introj..:rion of abstract reason by
the life of the senses. What matters is not in the first place art, but tltis

42
 l"H£ L\W OF 'MIE IIEART

P""'••• of refashioning the human subject from the inside, infornung

its subtlest affections and bodily responses v.'ith this low which is nor a
law. lr would thus ideally be as inconceiwble for the subject to violate
the injunctions of power as it would be w find • putrid odoor
enchanting. The understanding knows well enough that we live in
conformity to impersoonl laws; but in th• aesthetic it is as though we
""" forget about aU tlut - as though it is ,. who freely fashion the
laws to which we subjeet ourselves. Human nature, write.< Spiow.a in
his Trll(lntus Tlffologiro·Puliricus, 'will not subnlit tO unlimited
coercion', and the law mUSt. be accordingly framed to accommodate
the interests and desires of those over whom it holds sway''
The mom<-nt "'h<n moral actions can be classified chiefly as
' agreeoble' or 'disagreeable', when these aestheric rums will do
service for-more comJl)e,; distitlCtions, marks a c..-ertain mature point of
L'Volutiun in the history of a social class. Once the dun and hear of itS
struggles for political power ha>'C subsided, moral quesrions which
wn• at that time neces.o>arily cast in stridently absolutist terms may
now be allowed to cryswlize into routine responsr. Once new ethical
habits have been instalkd and naruralil.ed, the sheer quick feel or
impression of an object will be enough for sure judgement, shon-
clrcuitlng discurm·e contention and thus mystifying the rules wltich
regulote it. lf aesthetic judgement is every bit as coercive u the most
barbarous law - for thor• is a right and • wrong to taste quite as
absolute as the death .sentene< - this is not at aUthe .,·ay it feels. Th<
social order has grown beyond the point where it was at cvery moment
the subject of apocalyptic debate, and its rulers can now senle down
to enjoying the fruits nf their labout, shifting from polemic to
pl.,..sure. 'lt has been the misfortune ... of this age', Burlte writes in
Tlrl FTtnclr Rtw/uti011, 'that e'tt)1hing is to be discus.<ed, as i.f the
constitulion of our country were to be ah...ys a subj<'<:t ratltct of
alteroltion, than enjoyment.'" Th.e most glorious work of an is the
English Constitution in<elf, unformalizable yet .ineloctable. Puritan
utility wm )ield ground to an aestheticism of power only when society
is redefin~-d as an ancfac~ having no instnlmenw purpost beyond
our self-delight. It is then til a( the strenuous habits of philosophy will
gi•·e place w wil, that t;tnteel act ofjouin8rta in which a thought lives
and die> in a single ludic momenL If one wished to name the rno.<t
important cultur:1l instnlment of this hegemony in the nineteeuth
Celltllt)', une which ""ver cease<; ·w gnsp uaiversal reason in

43
COIIC:Utely particular style, uniringMthin itself an e<:OII()my of abstract
form with the effect of lived experienc.,e, one might do worse lhan
name the realist novel. As Franco Morelli has wrinen:

It is not enough that the social order is 'legal'; it must also

appear syrtf/lo/itrl/1) lqilillftlk •.• It is also necesury that, as
a 'free indi;idual', not as a fearful subject but as a
convinced citizen, one perceives the social oOJmS as 011e~
oam. One must intem:tlise them and fuse t:Jo'lem:tl com-
pulsion and internal impulse into a new unit until the
fonner is no longer distinguishable from lhe Jancr. Tbls
fusion is what we usually call 'consent' CJr 'legitimation'. If
the BiUI~ appears w us still wday as an essentia~
pivotal point of our histocy, this is because it has succeeded
in representing this fusion Mlh a force of conviction and
opcimistic clarity that will never be equalled again. ••

The growing acslhcticization of sociol life, then, represents a major

hegemonic advance on the pan.of the (IOI'mlinl bloc. But lt is not, as
we have seen, without its attendant dangers.. Rich.ard Price once
more, in his &via~~ •fMoroh: 'But what can be more evidem·, than
that rix/11 and p/llutsrt, """"!:and pili•, arc aa diffcri:Dt as a cause and
ir. effect; ...t>at is unilmiiJOd, and what is fdt; absolute truth, and its
urrrrM~ to the mimi?"" Price is W<:U aware uf the perils of this
subjecti\i:zing current, as is his mote celebrated nam.esW: f'anny
Price, heroine of Af~~mfold PIITk. To uphold moral standards in a
dis.alute social ortler, FamJY must to some degree sacriflte the
aesthetically agreeable in h<r Kanrian devotion to duty, which then
rendeiS the moral law 'risible in all its uniOYely imperio~ That
this gesture is at once admirable and. from an idenl Slllndpoint,
something of a regre1table necessity is the sign of an id<'Oiogical
dilemllliL In one sen.••· nothing could strengthen power more than Its
diffusion lhrough the unconscious telltUres of everyday life. Yet in
another sense this diffusion threatens fatally to undermine it,
debasing Its dikws to the le11el of en.loying an apple. 'Sensibility'
seems at once the surest foundation, and 110 foundation 'at an.
But there is another dang-er too, which is quire as porcntlally
harmful. O.,rman oeslhetics was born as • kind of supplement to pure
reason; but we have learned from Jacque> Derrido that it is in the
 THE LAW OF 'JlfE H£.U.T

manner of such lowly supplements to tnd up supplanting what !hey

are meant to subserve.'' Wh:n if it were the <as< mat nm only
morality, but cognition itself, was 'aesthetic'? That sematioo and
inruilion, far from figuring as its opposites, wen: in fact Its VC:JY basis?
The name for this alarming claim in Britain is David Hume, who oot
content with reducing morality to mere scnlimcnt, threatens also to
reduce knowledge to fictional hypothesis, belief to an intense feeling,
lhe continuity of the self to a fiction. causality to an imaginative
co!U1n1Ct and history to a kind of text." Indeed Norman Kemp Smllh
holds t.hat Hume's originaGty ~es precisely in his ioverriog of the
traditional priorities of n:a:IOI\ and fccGng, S<:cing Francis Hutcheson
3S tile primary influence on his thought." Hume brackets 'morals and
criticism' rogerher in the Introduction to his Tfflllist of Hum1111
NiJJ•rr, and holds tftat morality 'consisu not in any mlltttr off.a,
which Clln be discovered by the understanding . . . when you
pronounce any acdon or character ro be vicious, you mean nothinJ,
but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or
sentiment ol blame from !he contemplation of it'.'' Like other moral
sense theorists, Hume argues in his E114uiry CAntm~iog !he Pri11lipks cf
Momls that '>inue is an end, and is desirable on its own account,
wilhout fee and reward, merely for the immedate satisfaction which it
con.veys'.ts
If Humc lends his support to the a<"Stbotit:iution of ethiA:li, he also
extends the gesture 10 me under<tanding. Probable reason, he cl2illll
in the TumiJt, is nothing but a species of sentiment' (103), ond belief
is no more than 'a more mid and intense conception of any idea'
(1.20), 'more properly an act of the ~ensili\"e, man of the cogitative
pan of our narurcs' (183). All reasonings, be maintains, 'are nothing
but the effect of custom; and custom has no influence, but by
inlivcning !he imagination, and gMJ1J us a strong conception of any
object' (149). It follOYo's for the fin4uiry that 'CU5tom, tften, is the
b'Tett[guida: of human life'(~), a ca.t~e whose iffiJ-llicslions ror p(tlilical
hL'(tmony Edmund Burlc will not be slaw to sciu un. Cousality, in
perll2ps the most notorious of all Hume's doctrines, is radically
subjeclivized: it resides less in objects themselves than 'in the
determination of the mind to pas> from one to the other' (166), on
impuue entirely conditioned by inugin2tlve expecudoo. Continuous
identity, somewhat simaarly. is a quality which we attribute to things,
a bond Vlt feel ralher than perceive. Hume speaks in a revealing
45
 aesthetic im•ge of the mind as 'a kind of theatre, "'nere several
perceptions successively make their ap,pc:arance; pass, re-pass, glide
a~y. and mingle in an iDlinite variety of JlOl"ftUCS aod siru.otions'
(253).
The lmaJinadon, indeed, is tor Hume 'the ultimate judge of all
<ystem< of philn<OJlhy' (255). Lest this oppeor too fr.tg.1e • basis on
which to cr<et a th<ory, he insumdy distinguishes between those
imaginath't principles which are 'pennanent, irresistable [sic!, and
uni\·ersal\ ami those which are tch.ange:rble, ,...eak, and in'egular'
(225). In th< extraordinary Conclusion to the lint book ofthe Tmttiu,
however, W1: observe the poiJ!IW!t specudc of this distinction
crumbling a ..·ay to nothing in hls hands. Having laid out his systeaa
with aplomb, Hume breaks down before our eyes, 111ming helplessly
to the reader in an access of anxiety. He feels hi~lf to be 'some
mange uncouth monster', C"!'<Ucd from all human sO<.iery and ' ldt
utterly abando11'd and disconsob.te' (Z64). What possible foundation,
he asks hims.tl; does he have for these SCillldalous o.ssertions, which
would seem to shake rational enquiry to iu very rootS? If belief is nO
more tlwt a vivacioos sort of feeling, mu.~ not his belief that this is
the case be no more than this too, b<JD~lreranging pointlessly on iaself?
'1\fter the most accurate and eact of my reilS<lnings', he confesses, 'I
C4ll gi\'1: no reason why I should assenrto [thls view!; and feel nothing
but a stro•g propensity to consider objecas strong/.f i. n that view, under
wtuch they appear to me' (265). There em be no appeal beyond
e:q>erlence ..nd habit, which stimulate the imagin2rion; and it is on
these slender supports d1at all assent, and hence all social eonsens~JS,
is based. ~rhe memory, senses, and undemanding, are, therefore, aU
of them founded on the im:ogiootion, or the vivaci\Y of our ideas'
(265). In an intended addition to the Trralist, Hume acknowledges
how completely this 'm>~cit)" slips through the conceptual net in the
effort to di>1inguish between betiefs and fi<:tions: 'when I would
e:o:plain this manner, I scorce find any word that fully answers the e.se,
but am oblig'd to have recourse to eveay one's feeling, in order to give
him a perfect notion ofd•is operation of the ruind. An idea oss•·r11cd to
frt!J dlfTertnt from • ficlilious idea, tha< the laney :alone Jlf"Sents to us
.. .' (629). The 'imagination, source of all knowledge, is, so Hume
tells us, an 'inconsistent and fallacious' principle (265), which is why
philosophy tends to come ullStu(k; two pages bter, having just
reduced reason to imagination, be prorests thor 'Nodting is more
 n1E UW OF n1E Ht.UT

dangerous to reason lhac the !lights of the imagination, and nothing

hos been the oca~sion of more mis!Ues among philmophen' (267).
The very principle of retStlo, in short, would seent the sulwersion of
it. The due to dris apparent inconsi.srcncy lies in a distinction
bel'ncn wilder and more reliable forms of inu~ we must reject
'aD the trivial suggestioos of tbe tim<y, and adhere w the undersumding,
that Is, to the more general and more established propcnics of the
imagination' (267). 'What "'ill rescue us from the imagination i•
reason, which Is just another ,·crslon of it; lhc imaginalioo must be
rejected for- the imagination.
This deconstruction is then in tum deoonstructed. The under-
standing, when ir am :l!onc, 'entirely subvms ilsclf': it consists
in nothing more than • dizzying infinite regress, in which we check
the probability of our assenions, then cbeck our checking and men
check dur, ar each mge IMYing funher away from the original
evidence and introducing fresh uncertainties. What can arresl this
abysmal piUJ18C into scepticism is, of all things, the ilNglnadon,
which in the form of cn~omary sentiment induces us to view •certain
objectS in a stronger and fuOer .light, upon account of their custurnary
connc>eion with a present impression' (183). What we feel of the
cert•inty of the near, in other words, counrerwils the infinite ...gres,
of ll!Ukrstanding; it is beneficial that our beliefs are based on feeling,
on some 'scmsation or pccu!Lv tn31111Cr of CClllccption' (1&4), for if
they were not !here would be no~U..g to stop reason ••piraUing
ceaoelessly down Its 0\\11 indetermlnades, one doubt doubting
anutber to infinity. Howe...,r, in "" far as Ibis <'tinging to tbe near
which arrcsu reason's self-destruction is itself a 'sioguhr and
seemingly tri<rW propen)' of the fancy' (268), it belongs to cnctly the
kind of inferior imagination which Hume has just told us constirutes
the chief threat to reason.
Either, then. we may dismis.s all elaborate JlltlCnSCS of reasoning
out of band, adhering to what feels closest and surclt; or we may
cling, .,.batever its perils, to • sophisticated rat.ion:>lity. 1he former
option is nor only unplu... ntly drastic., cutting us off at a stroke from
all science and philosophy, but sclf-<:ontradictOfY, since it is only by
an cbbnrate pmc:e,. of rc=ning th•t ,..• arrivt ot it. If we slay
f2ithful to reason, lwweYer, we land up with the self-undoing
cognitions of !he sceptic, and so might as well not bave bothered. 'We
have, therefore,' Hume remarks gloomily, ' oa choice lefr but be~u1 a
47
false reason and non< at all' (268). His S<>lutioo to the. dilemma is, in
effect, to forget about it, since the problem is itself an instance of
highly refined reasoning, and 'Vel)· refined reflections Juve little or
no inlluence upon us' (268). Practical peO(lle do well not to become
engrossed by such metapll)l$ical questions - thoush we can hardly
formulate this as a uoiYersal imperative, since thiJ is precisely pan of
what is in doubt. Hume's solution, in brief, is a carefully cultivated
false consciousness, whi<:b consigns the whole vexed affair to
comfortable obli-rion; he goes off to play bactganrmon and make
meny with his friends, and willl•ter lind his own speculations so
ridiculous that he has no hean to pur>-..e them further. Rather like
some contemporary <ceprics in the field of literary theoty, one
continues to c:nch trains and retr one's children, cook food and lace
one's bouts, in cava6cr disn.1f'll'd of one'> lhcorclical doubiS about the
ontological solidity of aU this. Theory and practice, far from being
mutually supportive, are entirely at odds, so tltat for Hwne ooly some
form of Nicaschean amnesia would seem 10 hold society together. It
is a sobering thought, bO'II'cver, that society survives only by dint of
ioteDectuol suicide, and Home is understandably rllttled by his own
defensive stratl:gy. Customary practice no longer mediates ab>Olutc
norms, but acrually substitutes itself for dtem. Pra<:d~ must provide
their own rationales, :tnd theory, far from sec1.uing them, now <ilctive.ly
disables them. If intuition persuades you that there is truth, dteory
informs )'OU that there is just intuition. In an ironic reversal, society
itself, which work.• by custom and blind sentiment in the manner of
Nieasche's healing Apollonian illusions, assumes chat dterc is
somewhere some solid ground for Its conduct, which philosophy can
supply; phaosophy, suwosed to demonsu-ate such grot•nds, brutally
whinlcs them oway to cUSII)m and sentiment. Paradoxically, the
philosopher is an anti-social monstrosity precisely becau.<e be reduce£
ideas to social practices - because his thought imitates how society
actually is. Society itself, by con\111$1, is romorsdessly m<:laphysical,
gullibly con,in<:cd that Its opinions have some unimpeachable basis.
The layperson in fact lives by hahit bur trusts that there is more to the
W<Jrld than this; the philosopher faithfully reOet.u the prllgDJatic truth
of this condition, and so becomes an oua:ast from lt. He Is a monster
not because he comes bearing some outlandish mesuge from beyond
the social pale, but bc<."BU>c he arrives ltotfoot with the rather more
dis!Utbing news that dte habits ofbWllln nawre are aU mere Is. The
 UlE LAW OF "11fE HEART

hairy prophet howlins in the wildanoss is the one who discl""'s the
dreWful <e<:r<t that b..:kg;unm<>n L< more or less what it com<S down
to. The sole bme justiJicotioo Hume con then find for pbilosopby is
that it is relatively toothless- 1m socially disruptm, for example,
than religious superstition. If the metaphysical is a natural pos.<ibility
of tbe mind, if humanity cannot rest content with its narrow circuit of
scose impressions, then bener for II ro farmslze in tbe 'mild and
modemte' Sl}ie we term philcJsopby, than to cook up dangerously
fanatical Kbemes. Pbllosopby may be somewlw absurd, but at least it
is unlikely to topple tbe state.
We SCO!m, then, to ban: traced akin.t of circle. Reason, bavin' SPun
off with Baumgorren the subaltern dis<:ourse of aesthetia, llOW
appenrs to have been .-Uowed up by it. The rational and the
sensuous, far frum reprudUling onr another's inner structure. luve
ended up wbolly at odds. '1bus there is', Hume commeniS in the
Tr'<DtU<, ' • direct and total opposition betwixt our reoson and our
senses' (231). Strr.ing to illcamate themselves in daily practice,
rational ordinances are now at risk o( being reduced to IL Reuon
seeks in the usthetic tn encompass the aperienrial; but wh•t, to
panphnlsc Niei2.Sdlc, if elq)Crience were a woman? \\'hat if it were
that elusive thing that plays fast aDd loose with the concept? At ouce
intimltc and unreliable, pro..ious ami precarious, cxp<:riCIIC(' woold
seem to have all the duplicity of the eternal female. It is this
treoeherous terr:tin that Daumgar1en must subject to reasoo. The
British moral sense thinker> foUow a more lihend path: the feminine,
in tbe form of pure inruition, is a surer Klfide to morallnltb than the
masculine cull of calculatr•e reason. But s uch intuitions do not hang
in tbe air. they are the inscription lllithin us of a pmidemial lO!Pc too
sublime for ratiooal decipherment. The feminine is thus no more
than a passage or mode of accoss to the tn2SCUfine regime of Reason,
wbuse S'llo11y, whatever lhe alanned prottsts of rationalists like Price,
ret!Wn$ l~y unciWienl!"d In most moral sense phllosophy. lt will
1'10( prove very h31'd, however, to ldclt away this providential platform
altogether; and this in effect is what happens ill Humc, wbo has little
patience with the metaph)~ical btggal!" tied to the monJ sense by
some of h!. coDeagues. Hume tales over something o( Fr:UlciS
Hutcheson's et:hics bur strips rhl t case of its strongly pnr.idcntial
C11St, substiruling for this the harder-headed idea of 1ociallllility. The
e'l"'rience o( beauty for Hume is a kind of sympathy :>rising from

49
 reflected utility: the. aesthetically appealing object pkascs by virtue of
its uses to the species as a whole. His essay 'Of the St2nd2rd ofTa.~te·
suggest< just how unsrahle such aesthetic critecia a re: 'the sentiments
of men', be writes, 'often differ with ' rrgard to beauty ar>d
defomllry',,. and though he is insistent that there ;are indeed uni..-ersal
standards of taste, it is 001 e:e.jl for him to say where they are to be
found. Some aesthetic conflic15, the essay coos by acknowledging, are
simply irresolvable. 'and we seek in vain for a standard, by which we
can reconcile the contrary senlimcnts'." Indeed Hume seeks In Y3ln
fnr a <ure standard in anything. Knowledge, belief, etl>ics: aU these
have now been ·remorselessly 'feminized', convtrtcd one by one tu
feeling, imagination, inruirion.
Not only these, indeed, but the whole material foundation of the
bourgeois social order. Home finds no metapbysic2l sanction
underpinning prlvote property, which depends like everything else on
the imagination. Our relenrlessly metOD)1loic oninds simply lind it
natural 10 make a permanent state of affairs out of somebody's
poss...ing something at a ponicular rime. We ako tend ro make a
natural imaginative cunne<.1ion between obj«~ we own and others
contiguous to them, like the work of our slaves or the fruiiS of our
garde~ wh.ich we therefore feel we can cbint a ') well. (Since the
imapnation passes more easily from smaU to great rather than vier
vma, it might seem more logical for a small proprietor to annex ~
larger contiguou.s object rather than the other way round; so Hume
has to tiiJlllS" in a deft piece of pbilosopblcal footwork to justify, for
example, me DririAh possession of Ireland.) If aU of this n:uuralius
posses.'live individuall<m, it also scandalously demysrifie.' all talk of
meuphysic2l rigbtJ. There is no inherent reason why my property
should not be yours tomorrow, wue it not for that imaginative inertia
which makes it easier to associate it with n.e. Since the idea of my
consunt possession of a !bing is imaginalivcly closer to my actUal
possession or it tfwt than is the notion of your 0\\11ersblp of h, the
indolence of the imagination tends ronvcniend)· to confinn my
()06SeSSion in pelpCIWty. Hume, in ocher words, is fully <ODliCious of
the fictional nature of the bourgeois economy, blandly proclaiming
that property 'is 001 all)' thing real in meobjects, bur is the offspring
of the •cntimerus .. .' (509). The whole of bourgeois soclety is based
on metllpbor, metonymy, imaginary corre.<poruleoce:

so
 THJ; LAW OF THE HEART

The same lo\'t of order and unifonnity, which anangc:> the

books in !l libral)•, and t_he ch1irs in a parlour, C()ntrihmes
to the formation of society, and to the weD-being of
mankind, by modifYing the general rule concerning the
stahilily of pOSS<:S$inn. A.< property fonns a relation betwixt
a puson and an object, 'tis natural to found It on some
preceding relation; and •• propert)· is nothing but a
constant possession, sccur'd by the laws of society, 'tis
natural m add it to the !)NSent possession which is a
relation that resembles it. (504-5o)

What guarantees the property rights of tile middle cla.'IS is less the
law of <eonomic• than !he instinctual econontiziug of the llliud.
If imag!Mtion Is in this way the unstable foundation of civil society,
it is, curiously enough, a lack of imagination which forms the basis of
the political state. Sine-.: individuals are gvv.:med largely by !IC!f-
interest, their imaglnad.,.e sympathy with what lies beyond this narrow
circnit tends to be feeble; so that though they anshare an interest in
maintaining social justice, it is one they an: likely to feel only dimly.
Objects close to us slrike us with more imaginative force than those
more distant; and the state is a regulative mechanism which
compen.utes for thi< parochial delidency, composed as it is of
indj.,.iduals wbo h""e • direct interest in ensuring dte observance of
justice. Politics springs from a failure of imagination; civil society is
anchored in it; and so also is the re..lm of moral or interpersonal
relations. Pity and c-umpossiun, the very ground of our social
solidariey, in,-olve an imaginative empathy with ochen, for Hume as
much as fnr Adam Smith. •All human creatures are related to us hy
RSemblant<!. Their persons, therefore, their interests, their passions,
their pains and pleasures must strll:e upon u.< In a lively nanner, and
produce an emotion similar to the original one; since a lively idea is
easily convcn<d into an impression' (369). Relations with olhen
invoh•e a lind of inner anisric miming of their inward condition, ;~ set
ofimoginllry correspoodenc•-s; ami Hume illustrates his point with an
aesthetic image, that of the sympathy for suffering "" experience
when \\':Itching tragic dramo.
Society, then, is based on a faculty which in its 'proper' functioning
ensures stability and continuity, but which as Hume recogn!us

51
carries within it the ~ent structun~l po.sibiUty of pr<iu<(icc and
extravagant fontasy. The principle of social C<lbesion is dw.• at the
same time a £()01TC< ofpntential :marchy. If this 'feoonine' aestheticizing
is alarming, howe\'er, it has a 'masculine' counterpart wh.ich iJ; equally
problematic. Like Joseph Buder or lmnwlucl Kan1, one can appu1
away £rom !l<!odment to a moral duty which ha.< no direct relation to
human pleasure or happiness. But this is to rtplacc one IWul of
'aesthetic' moraUty with a dltferent kind: it leaves morallly, like the
artefact, self-grounding and t;elf-deternlining, • lolly end in itself
be)'ond all utility. Womanly feeling is thus ousll:d by the phallic
obsoludsm of conscience ond the inner Ught. In neither c.se can
moral values be derived from <:Oncr<le social relations: either they
must be validated 1:>y in>1inc1, or they must validate thems<!lves.

It is not surprising, given what is at Slllu in these debates, that

Edmund Burke should begin his worl: on the sublime and the
beautiful by seeking to defend the possibility of a science of tam. If
beanty is merely relative, then the bonds which Jeo.<h society together
are in danger of loo,...ning. a... uty for Burke is 1101 just a question of
an:

I caD beauty a social quality; for wbeo men and won~eo,

and not only they, but when other animals give us a sense
of joy and pleasure in beholding them (and there are many
that do so), they inspire us with sentiments of tenderness
and affection towards their persons; ••• like to have them
near w;, ond we enter wUiingly into a kind of relation "'ith
them, unless we should have Slrong reasons to the
contrary.'"
Burke is quite eonfulent that such taSie is uniform and uni•ersal: 'I
ne\'l:r remember that anything lx:autiful, whether a man, a bcasl, a
bird, or a plan!, wu ever sh<w.11, thougi> it were to • hundred people,
that they did not aD in1nw:diately •gr.ee that it was beautiful . . .' (70).
If aesthetic judfemcnt is IJJlStllble, then so must be the social
sympai!Ues founded on i~ arK! with them the whole fobric of polliical
life. Unifonnity of !liSle for Burl<e must be dependent on a unifunnity
of the senses themselves; but he is realistic cnOUJh to recognize that
the senses are 3C!U21Jy varioblc, and aesthetic responses occordiogly

52
 THE LAW or· THE Ht:.\RT

divtrgenL Burl<e'< political consenalism i< thus to oome degree at

odds with his empiricist psychelogy. These discrepancies of response,
however, can be laid at the door of individuals lhemsdves, rather thm
of la!le itself, which relll3ins self-idenliA:al dtrougltout its manifold
iJregular e:qm:ssions. 'Witilst we oonsi<kr taste merely according to
its narure and species, we shaD lind iu principles entirely uniform;
but the degree in which these principles prevail, in the several
individuals of mankind, is altogether as different as the principles
themseh'es are similar' (78). It is as though human size is ai>Mlutely
Wllltcnble, eveu though indniduals happen to be or different
heights.
What knits society together for Burlce, a.• with Hume, is the
aesthetic phenomenon of mimesis, which is a mauer more of custom
than of law: 'It is by imitation, far more than by precept, that,..., learn
everytbin~r. and what we learn thus, we acquire not only more
effccwally, but more plcasantl;o. This forms our monners, our
opinions, our lives. It is one of the strongeu links of society; it Is a
species uf mutu•l compliance, which all men yield to each other
vithout constraint to tbemset•es, and which is extremely flanering to
all' {101). Lows or precepts are simply deri•atives of what is 6rst
nunun:d through customary practice, and coc:rcion is thus scconduy
to c:oosenL We become human subie<:IB by pleasur-ably imitating
practic.J forms of social life, and in the enjoyment of this lies the
relation which binds us hegemonically to the whole. To mime is to
submit to a law, but one so gntil}ing that freedom ties in such
servirude. Such consensuality is less an artifu:ial social contract,
laboriously wrought and mainuined, than a kind of spontaneous
metaphor or perpetual forging of resemblances. The only problem is
where all this imitatinJ ends: social life for Burltc would appear a kind
of infinite chain ofreprcsenutions or represenratioru, without ground
or origin. If we do as others do, wbo do the sam~. then all uf these
copies would seem to lack a transcendental original, and soctc:ty is
shanen:d to a wilderness of mirtors.
This ceaseless mutual mirroring has about it something of the
stasis of the imapnary, and iftalten too literaDy would spell the death
of difference and history. 'Although imitation is one of the ~t
instruments ....,d by Providence in bringing our nature tow..-ds irs
perft'Ctiun, yet if men gave themselvt>s up to imi!Dtion entirely, and
eacb followed the other, and so on in an eternal circle, it is usy ro see

53
that there could never~ any improvement amongst them' (102). The
very couditiom which guarantee social order aho paralyse ir: sunk In
this narcissistic closure, men of affairs grow effete and enerwted,
sympathy becomes cloying and incestu<>us, and beauty sinks to a by-
word for mption. Somt countervailing enCfl)' Is therefore
n""essary, which Bwl<e disam:rs in the .U~e strenunusne!<S oi tbe
sublime. 'To p~nt this [complaceocy), God has planted in mau a
sense of ambilioa, and a satisfa<:don arising liorA die comempladon
of hi.< e=Ding his fellows in something deem.ed ..tuable amongst
tlu:m' {102). The sublime is on. the side of entaprisc, rivalJy and
lndiliduatiOII: it is a phallk ' swelliDg' arising from our coolrontntion
of danger, although • danger- encounter figuratively, vic..nously, in
the pleasurable knowledge tlw.we cannoc acnWiy ~ harmed. In this
sense, the sublime Is a &~Jirably defused, aesthetic:Ued ••rsion. of the
•olues of the ana'ta nii-. 11 is as though those traditionalist p.trician
vinlles of dulng, reverc:nee and free-bootin( ambilion must ~ at
once cancrUed :u:ul preserved within middle-class life. As actual
qualities, they must be outlawed by a •1Bte devoted to domestic peace;
but 10 avoid spiritual emascula!ion they must still be fostered within il
in the displaced form of ...metic eq>erieoce. 'The subtime is an
imaginuy compensation for aD the uproarious old upper-class
violence, tnjedy repeated as ~edy. It is ~uty's point of inner
fracture, a negation of settled o.rder witbout -..bich any order .,.ou)d
II""" inert and wither. The sublime is the anti-social condilion of all
sodality, the infinitely ulllq)ra>cntable which SJ)UfS us on 10 yet liner
representations, ·tbe .lawles.' masc:uline fo.rcr which ·viabtes yet
pcrperually renews the femiDine enclosure of beaUty. Its social
coMowions arelnterr:odngly c:onttadlctory: in one sense the memory
ttace of an historically surpassed baroarism, i1 also has sometbinc of
the eballcnJC of mercaDiile ea!£1prisc 10 a too-dllbbablc arlstocralk
indolence. Wirhio the 6gure of the sublime, warring barons aod busy
speculators merge to prod society out of iiS specular smucnes."
These, it may be noted, an: the political tbo..PIJ of a aw1 who t i 1
child artend<d a hedge school in County Cod:.
As a kind of terror. the subl.ime C1U$hes us into admiring
submission; it thus resembks 1 coerer.e rather thao a tonsensual
power, engaling our respect but not, as with beaU!)', oilr Jove: 'we
submiLLu ..ru.t we admire, but we love what submi1s to us; in one case
f t are forced, in the ocher flattered, into wmpliance' {161). The

54
 THJ; I..AW OF THJ; HEAllT

distinction between the be:outiful and the sublime, then, is th:lt

betWeen woman and man; but it is also tbe difference be~W<:en what
Louis Ahhusser had calkd the Ideological and du: rcprusloe sutc
appanoru.....s ." For Althusser, the repressive institutions ol society
would stem to be purely ncpmc; It Is in Ideology alone that we are
coostnocted as subjects. For Burke, a more subt~ political t.ltenrisf. in
this n:spcct, this opposition can be to some extent deconstructed. The
sublime nuy terrorize us into cowed submission, but since we are aU
cooSiirutional masochists who delight in being humiliated, this
coerciveness contains the pleasures of the collSCII!t-ual as well as the
pains of constralnL 'Sensations of a pleasurable nature haYe nodting
inherently impelling about them', writes Sigmund Freud in 1M Ego
anti tire /d, 'whcn:as unpleiiSimlblt ones have it iD tbe highest degree.
The latter impel IOW2Tds change, towards discharge, aod that is why
we interpret unplc:asure as implying a heightening and pleasure as •
lowering of enel'Jelic calhcxis.'"' Comcncly, the beauty wt>kb wins
our free consent, and beguiles us like a woman, is based nevertheless
on a J.ind of cunningly dissimubted Ia••·
Burke confesses lhat he can see no M)' of Wliling these two
~ters, which clearly poses a politic:ol problem. The dilenuna is that
the authority we Jove we do not resp<e~, and the one we respect we do
not love. 'Tbe authority of a father, so useful to our "-eU-being, and so
justly venerable upon aD accounts, hinders us from having thAt entire
Jove for him thAt we have for oor molbers, where tbe puent.al
authority is ~mnst mehed down into tbe mother's fondness •nd
indulgence' (I 59). The political paradox is plain: only love will truly
wiD us to tbe law, but Ibis love will erode tbc law to nolhiDg. A Jaw
attractive enough to engage our .inri.m••• afl'ectioos, •nd so hege:m.-
onically effective, will tend to inspire in us • benign contempL On the
other band, a power which rouses our filial fear, and hence our
submissive obedience, is Iii: ely to •lien•te our affections and so spur
us to Oedipal rescnlmenL Caslin( around dcspcrattly for a recmciiing
image, Burle offers us, of aD dtings, the figure of tbe !lf311dWber,
whose male 3Utbority is enfeebled by age into a ' feminine p<lrtiali.ty'.
Msuy Wollstoneceaft is quick to assail tbe sexism of Burke's orsument
in her Ylt~tilauifJtl II{ rhr Riglra ofMm. His d.lstW:tloo between love
and respect, she points our, aestbeticiT.es women in nys which
remove tbero from the spbere of morality. 'The atfccdon !Women)
excite, to be uniform aod perfect, should not be tinctured with tbe
55
respect which the moral Yi.rtues inspire, lest pain should be blended
with pleasure, and admiration diwrb the soft inlimacy of Jove.'"
'This laxity of mornls in the female', WoUsronecr.Ut continues, 'is
certlinly more captivating tu a ~benine imagination than the cold
ltJIIDICDIS of n:ason, that give no sex to Yinue. &I should experience
prcwe that there ts a beauty in ~irtue, ;~ charm in order, which
necessarily implies a.cnion, a depraved sensual taste may give way to
a more IIWI1y one - and mdli~t feelinp to rational salisfactions.'n
For Wollstonecmft, Burke is a lind of aesthete whu divorces beauty
(woman) from moral truth (man); against this, sbc argues at ooce that
virtue is sexless and that it imolves a manly laS{C. We shaD sec,
however, that Burke is not so much an aesthete as an aestheticiz.er,
wbidt makes a sipilicant difference.
Authority, lhen, lives iD a kind of ceasele.s self-undoiog. ..
coercion and consent reinforce yet oondermine one another. An
cner.-ate beauty mliSt be regularly shanered by a sublime whose
terrors must in tum be quicl<.ly defused, in a constant rhythm of
erection and detumesco:oce. Ar the heart of puwcr ~cs the oxymoron
a
' fnlc bondage', of which the aesthetit is mal symbol. The greater
the freedom the deeper the bondage; but the more, by the wne
token, spontaneity con get out of band . The mort the human subject
worb 'aU by itoclf', the l>ettcr- and the worse - for authorily. If
freedom tran.~e• the submi'Sion which is its very condition, the
repressi><eness of the sub~me cnn be invoked; but this ullimate
efficacy of power is also its potenlial downfall, breeding IS wen as
subduing rebellion. Po10'Cr is thw a lind of riddle, of which the
mystery of the aesthetic, with its impossibly lawless lawfulness, is an
apt sign.
The aesthetic experience of the sublime is conlined to the
cultivated few; and there would thus seem the need for a kind of poor
person's \'ersion of it. Religion is of course one obvious such
candidate; but Burke also proposes another, which is, surprisingly
enough, the lowly activity of labour. Like the sublime, labour is •
muoc:histie affair, siDce Yo'C ftnd wort 11 once painful in its exertion
yet plea$urable in its arousal ofenergy. 'As common labour, which is a
mode of pain, is the exercise of the grosser, a model of terror is the
exercise of the finer pans of the system' (181). The sublime, 10'ith its
'delightful horror', is the rich man's labour, lnvisorating an otberwae
dangerously complacent mling class. If that class cann.nt lcnnw the

56
 THE L4W OF TH£ HFAIT

uncenain pleasures oflooding a sbip, ir e..n gv.e il\$lead ar one ros., ed

on lhe nubulent ocean. Pmidence has so unnged ~~~atters that a
"""" of rest becomes sooo obooxlous, breeding melaru:holy and
despair; we are thus naturaDy driven to ..-ort<, reaping enjO)ment from
its surmowning of dillicultlcs. Labour im'Olves a paUJ;iDg cotiCiou-,
and is thm an aesthetic <Kperience all in itJiell, ar le2St for thD<e who
thcoriu: about it. Both material production •nd political life, base and
supersll'IICIU1"e, display a unity of force and fulfilmcnr. Hegemony is
not only a maner of the political state, but is installed within the
labou~ procc.s s itself. Our wrcst.liof with Nature's re<.'1llcitnmce is
itaelfa kiud of socialized sublime; and this agreeablmcss of labour is
even more gratifying to those who profit ITom it.
What the aesthetic in Burke sets its face mast finnly against is lhe
notion of ll2tural rights. It is peclsely that drily theoretic dlscource, a
revolutionary one in his day, that the appe<ll to the intimate h2bit.• of
the body is out to W<lfSI. Tbe essay on the beautiful and the sublime is
a subde phenomenology of the sense., a mapping of the body's
delicacies and disgusts: Burke is fascinated by what hoppeos when wt
hear low vibrations or srrotc smootll surfaces, by the dilation of the
eye' s pupil in dartnes.< nr the feel of a s6gftt up on the shoulder. He
is much preoccupied ,.;th swc:ct smells and .Wltnt mrtinp from
sleep, with the 'Oibratory power of salt and lbe question of whether
proportion is lhe sourot of beauty in vegetables. AD of this strange
homespun psycho-physiology is a kind of politi<:s, williDg to credit no
lheoretical notion which c.mnot somehow be traotd to the musc:ular
SITUCture of the eye or the texture of the lingerpads. J( there are
indeed mclllphysical rights, then they enter this dense somatic space
as dispe,.ed and non-identical: like ' nys of light which pierce into a
dense medium', Burl<e •rgues in R<}kaiQns q, 1/.e Fmoc4 RtfJOiodUn.,
such riihts are 'by the la~>'S of nature, rcfraA:ted liotn their sll'llilbt
tine', enduring 'such a variety of refractions and reflections, that it
becomes absurd ro ralk of them "'' if rhey continued in dle simplicity
of their original dire<:tion'.» What is aatural about lM:h npts is their
devionce or aberrancy; their sclf-dlt.seminalory power is Jl<lrf of thei.r
""'Y ~nee. When Burke adds that 'the nature of man is intricate;
the objects of society are of the greatest possible compkxity', be
spe3s, ill the orlsinal sense of the term, as an aestlteric:ian.
!tis notth2t Burke rejero; aD concept of the rights of man. It is less
that such rigllts do nor e¥istthan that they are iocapeblc of dc6nitiou.

57
'The rights of man are in • son of middlt, incapable of definition, bur
nor im~ibk robe discerned.'" They are, in short, jusr ll~e the b w.;
of the artefact, indubitably p.resent yet impossible to abstlllcl from
their panicuJar incarnations. T radition, for Burke, is equally a kind of
l>wfulness without law. The erne danger of the revolutionaries is !hat
as fanatical anti·aesrheticians they offer to reduce hegemony rowed
power. They are Protestant extrenmts who would beliC11e insanely
that men and wu.mn could look on this teml>le law in all its
nakedness and still live, who would suip from ir every decent
mediation aru! consoling illusion, break every representational icon
and cxtilpatc every pious pr.u:ticc, thus leaving lh<: wnichcd citizen
helpless and vulnerable heli>re !he full ltldl<ric bb.<t or >uthority.
Angered by t.his iconoclasm, Bm~e speaks up instead for what
Gramsd will later term 'hegemony':

But DfJW aU is to be changed. AU the pleasing musions,

which made power gentle and obedience liberal, y,·bich
harmonised assimilation, i.ncorporated into poti.rics the
sentimentS whicb beautify and soften private society, are ro
be dissolved by this new conquering empire of light and
rea5Clo. AU me decent drapery of 6fe is to be rudely torn
ulf. AU lh<: superadded ideas, furnished from the wardrobe
of a moral ilNgln•tion, whic:h the bean oM>s, and the
understanding ratifies, as necessary ro cover the defect. of
our caked, stm·crin~r narurc, and to raise it to diplity in our
own estimation, are to be exploded as a ridiculous, absurd,
ond antiqu•ted foshion."

Wilh the executed "uric Antoinene in mind, Burke goes on to

denounce. revolution:uy discourte~)' to women: 'All homagw: paid to
the sex in reneral as such, and without distinct views, is ro be
regarded "' romance :md folly.' The bw l< lt)a[e, but hegemony is a
woman; this lr.ln>-vestite law, which decks itself out m female UI"'[>Cry,
is in donger or having its phallus ~- Power is ceasing to be
oestbetici:ted: w.hat grapples individuals to it Ott thls radical view is
Jess their affections than the raUows. 1ru: wilole crucial middle
region of social life between swe and economy, the rich tapestry of
cusroms which trJnsmute bws 10 feelings, is boing disastrously
abandoned

58
 THE UW OF Tl!£ H£AitT

n\ese public sentiments, combined with manne.rs, are

required sometimes as supplcmeniS, sometimes as cor-
rectives, alw•ys a< aid< tn Ia..·. The precept given by a wise
mao. as wdl as a great (:ritic. for the construclion of poems,
is equally true as to states: Nrm saris"' pukltra tm pMnara,
Julria sur:IIJ. There ought to be a system of manners in
every nation, which a weD-formed mimi W(Juld be disposed
to relish. To ltl2ke us love our country, our country ought
to be lm·ely.,.

Wom•n. the ae_\lhetic and poUtical hegemony are nnw in efTt<:t

8)'11011)1DOU>.
We e2n rerum in the Ught of this to the quarrel betWeen Burlce ar.d
Mary Wollstonecrafl. It is not quite true, a.< WoUstonecraft suggests,
that Burke is an aesthete cooccrncd to divorce beauty from moral
truth. On the comr3ry, be wishes to ~arh<fid::r such truth, in order to
render it securely hegl!monit. Woman, or beauty, lhus becomes a
kind of mediation of man; but what Won.tonccraft rightly SC\:S is that.
this process does not nper3te in reverse. Btaul)' must be included
within the sublimity of the masculine Jaw, in order to soften its
rig<IUI'S, bur monl sublimity is nor m be include() within the
bea11tiful. \Vom.en are indeoo in this sen.<e excluded from the dolll2in
of tnlth and mo..Uty. Burke deconst.n..::ts tl1e opposition beN·een
beaury and truth, but only parrially and unllaterally. lkaury is
nece-ssary for puw~r. but tloes not itself cuntaio it; :authority has need
of the very femininity it places beyond its bounds.
Burke's plea for the aesthetic L• nnt rn be mistaken for some errant
subjectivism. Though he beUeves strongly in an intuitive =ponse
antecedenl to nason, he i.'i; stem on what M ukes 10 be a pernicious
aestheticizing of moral ' 'alue. and f1dminates in his essay on aesthetic.•
opinst ' 211 Infinite deal of whimsical theory' wltlch has 'misled us
both in the theory of tute and of morals' (159). We must not be
induced by these fanciful flights to 'remo-e the sd enlX'. of our duties
from their proper basi> (our r~ll$0n, our relations, and our DCc-.:s>ities)
to rest ir upon foundatHln.~ altogether \isiO!"W'Y and unsubstantial'
(159). When it <-omes to morn! ideology, Burke is quite as absolute
and objectivist as any rationalist: it is ju>'l that, like tbc moral Sl.'TlS<
theorists, he cannot believe thai any power not appropriated by

59
exptorience, livtd on the body, will move men and women to t1teir
proper civic duties. But Shaftesbury, as we have seen, was a strong
moral realist too, holding that virtue resides in the nature of things
mther than in custom, fancy or will. The moral rebri\ism wbich
others feared in him was exact!~ what be himself denounced in the
we>rk of his rutor john Locke, "'ho 'struek at all fundamentals, threw
all order aod virtue out of the world and made the very ideas of these
.. unnatural and without foundation in our minds'." fnneis
Hutch<:son, equally, distinguishes between rather than simply contlatcs
the morol and aes1heric: senses: to assen that we possess a mnral sense
as intuitiv~ as do< ae>thctic is nut tu identify the one with th~ other.
And David Hume, like ~"haftcsbury, believes that ta'tte involves 3 firm
commhmenr to the _rational For both men, f.a1se taste can be
cuncctcd by argumt111' and reflection, as the unckrs!Jinding comes to
intervene in the process or feeling. Tbere is no question with any of
tloese thinkers of some wholes:d. aoomlonmnt uf b... d for heart.
Even so, the general tendency of !his current of thought nn be
seen 35 a stc•dy undcnnining of the mind in the. nome of the oody;
and the pulitic.:J oonsequeuces of this are ambi,·alent. On the one
hand, there is surely no doubt that to affinn the claims of affecri\'e
experience against a ruthles.'lly exclusivi.<t reo.'IOn is in principle
progr<ssive. The very emergence of the aesth•tic marks in this sense
a ceMain crisis of tnlditiolllll reason, and a potentially tiberating or
utopian trend of thought. By the end of the eighteenth century, such
appeals to feeling will have become identified as dangerously radical.
There is in lhe aesthetic an ideal of compassionate community, of
altruism and natural affection, whicb along " ith • faith in the self-
delighting individulll reprcsctlts an affr<mt to ruling-class nllionalism.
On the other hand, It migbt be claimed that such a movement comes
evennmlly m represent • devastoting k>ss for the political left. From
Burke and Coleridge 10 Matthew Arnold and T. S. Elio t, the acsthctic
io Britain is c!lcctivtly captured by the political right. The autonomy
of culture, &ociel)' a..r; expres$ive or organic totality, the intuiri\'e
dogmati>;m of the imagin.,tiun, the priority of local affections and
WJ.arguable alkgianccs, the intimidatory moj~-sty of the sublime, the
incontrovertible character of ' immediate' cxpcriCflcc, history as a
spontanoous growth impervious to rational analysi<: these ore some of
the forms i1.1 whic;h tlu: acstiu:tic bl:t-omcs a weaJ)(m in the hand-s of
poUrical reaction. Lived e.'<Perience, which can o!ler a powerful

60
 THF. LA"'' OF nf'F. f.ff.AR.T

critique of Enlightenment rationality, can also he the very homeland

of co.nservative ideology. The cle.tr bold light of republican ratiooalism,
and the intimate affcctiw depths of the poetic, come to figure
lhroughout the ninetcenlit century as effectne antinomies. Tom
P.ine's plain-minded scoffing at Burke's extravagaody melaphorical
diction is an earlier case in point '.Mr. Burke', he commenrs in Tlrt
Rig/ttso[Ma11, 'should recollect that he is writing history and notpla:f1,
IUld thar his readers wiD e:.pcct trUiit, and not lite spouting rant of
high•toned exclamation:• 1\.!ary Wollstonecraft writes scathingly of
Burke's 'pampered sensibility', ..,iewing his reason as 'the weather-
cock of unn:straincd fccliniJS' and his cast of mind as lamentably
etfemin3te. ~E,ren the ladies, Sir,' she mocb:, •may rep~t your
sprigbdy sallies, and ro:tail in theatrical attitudes many of your
sentimental exclamations.',. Her 01\11 dc6nition of the rigbrs of man,
so she proclaim.<, will be by caniTa.>t a 'manly' one.
After the work of Blake and Shelley, myth and xymbol in English
liu:rarure becomes increuinsJy a preserve of the polidcal right, and
'political poetry' an effective oxymoron. The di>course of mdical
rationalism would seem peculiarly resistant to the aCSlhetic -
regstant, that is to say, to wh2t are now the hegemonic definilions of
art. There can be little tr10ck between an analytic language of politic'lll
dissent and those subdy sensuous intensities which are now coming to
monopolize the meanint: of poerry. At the same time, the aesthetic
dearly cannot serve as a dominant ideology for lite middle class,
which in the turmoil of industrial capitalist accumulation will need
somethin~ a good deal more solid than sentiment and innoition to
secure its rule. Sentimentalism, from the standpoint of Victorian
EnsJand, will appear increasinsJy as the badge of an earlier, somowloat
more serenely self-possessed bourgeoisie, which had yet to endure
the C3tad)'SUIS of political revolution abro•d and industrial trans-
formation at home. It is, of course, still intcns:ively cultivated on the
~ide; but the ruli1tg ideology of Victorian F..nglaud i!'; a ,·irulentl)· anti ~
aesdoetic Utilitarianism, belated offspring ofEolightenment nuionalista.
Sclf-irotcn:st wins out over moral sense, a.• custom, mdilion and
sensibility are subjected to the cold light of rational critique. Yet it is
not ca•-y to see how this bloodlessly analytic ideology """ at1uaUy be
lived: if lite Bentlwnite subject must laboriously c.~lc.ulate the
probable conseq uenct-S of each of its actions, how c:o n socful practices
ever be effectively natumlizcdl What has become of habit and virtue,

61
,;poutanoous impul$e and the political unconscious? And bow, shorn
of lh~ fcorurcs, can this ·upstart doctrine ever achiel;e moral
hegemony? Abrmed by these lacurue, John Stuart MiD rums ro a
>)'!ldtc>"is of the mtionolist and aesthetic tmditions, re\·iving the
language of Burkl:im hegemony: '(Bcnthamism] will do ncrhillg .•.
for the <pirirual interest.< of society; nor does it suflice of itself even
lor the matt'fial interests. That which alone causes any material
intereats to eldst, wltith alone enables any bc>dy of bumm ~gs ro
exist as " society, is national character . . . !\ philosophy oflaw. and
institutions, not founded on a philosophy of mtional chancier, is an
ahsurdity . . .... Bentham, Mill cbims, em in considering only the
moral aspect of human conduct, whueas one must also OO·e regnrd
to its aesthetic (beautiful) and sympathetic (1011able) qualities. lf the
error of «:nrimcnulism is to set the last rwo O\'er apinst the lim, the
<li>o>ter of on unreconsrructed Un1~ariani.m is 10 ditch !hem entirely.
All tbar remains to be done, then, is to dovelllil Bentham aDd
Coleridge together, vi<'Aing each as the other's 'completing counter•
part'. It is us though a sr.n•ctuml contmdiction in ruling-c:lass ideology
can be resolved by holdinr a different book in either hand
Yet Mill's gesrure Is not as idly academicist as it seems. It it true
thot the industrial middle cia.'>.<, with its :uidly instrument:lllst
~cs, is in<11p11blo of gc:n<ntting uuder its own st..m a persuasive
•esthetics - unable, that Is, to develop the Sl)1es and forms which
would weave its unlovely power into the fabric of euryday life. To do
this it mwt look elsewhere, to what Anwnio Gntmsci termed the
'tradiriooal' inrcUe.CIIlals; and this, in the evoludcm from r:be later
Coleridge to John Ruskin and Matthew Arno.ld, is exactly what takes
place. The unca>-y ninctecnth-c:entury alliance of potrician ond
philistine., euhure and socieey, Is amonr other things the tale of an
ideology in search of hegemony- of a spiriruaUy disabl<d 'b ourgeoisie
constrained to go tu .chool with an aesthetictting rigllr which speaks
of organic unit)', intuitive cerhinty and the free play oflhc mind. That
this oestheric firuoage alsn produces a powerful Idealist critique of
bc>urgeois utility is the uthcr side of the story; if pbilistine •nd
~tricbn are allied in some ways, they arc at loggerheads in uthcrs.
Indeed the rtlations berwccn them are an exemplary case of the
fraught conn«<ion bel'ol-een facts BJld vulues. The only truly
compeUing moral ideology is one wltich succeeds in grounding itself
to some degree in real material conditions; if it fails to do so, its

62
 THE LAW OF THE HEART

idealism "ill Jlf(We a constant source of poUtkal t mbaiTllSS!tlent.

Discourses of ideal value too palpably disse,·ered from the way men
8lld ..·omen aCNally experience !heir social conditions merely mark
lh<oir own redundancy, and are thus politically vulner:1ble. This is "
progressive problem for the nineteentl1-centwy middle dass, which is
still deeply dependent upon ccnaill metaphysical values for its
idenlogic:allegitimarion, but which is in danger of subverting some of
those very ~alues by lloe nature of its material actmtics. Its
sccularizlng, rationalizing pra<:tices are bringing many traditional
pieties, not le25t religious ones, into irM:re:tsin~ discredit; :md in this
sense the nature: of the 'base' is perilously at odds wilh lh<o
requirements of the 'supcrsuucture'. The Kaatian critique of
met:aphysiu marl:s the point at which it has become lh<ooretically
dillicuh to jUSiify many of the doctrines on which, in its routine
ideological practices, the n.oling order still relies. lnd ustrlal capltollim
can b)•no means brusquely discount •spiritual' values; but such \IaIues
will come to have about mem an increasiDgly hoUow, impb usiblc
ring. As &r as the Victorian bourgeoisie is concerned, the Olll<talgic
neo-fe.tdolism o( a C.rlyle or • Ruskin Clln be neither credited nor
entirely disowned: eeccntrlc and risibly unreal tboqh such visions
may be, they are nevertbel~ :1 !iOUrce of ideological stimulus and
moral edilication which the marl<ct place, at k-ast fur the lower orders,
is diSO'I:SiiDgly unable to provide.
The aesthetic is one :mswer to this ve""d question or how values
are to be deri\"ed_. in a condition where neith~r ci\til society nor the
politial Slate would seem to provide such va!U£J with a particularly
plausible foundation. We hove seen alrt.1dy some of the dillicullies
involved for the middle class in founding its !.piritu:ol solidarity un the
degraded basis of civa societ)~ and an alternalire strategy is there fore
to twn in Amoldian style to the stltt, as the ideal locus of 'culture'.
Throughout the nineteenth centtlty, many a thinker had recourse to
this apparently promising solution. It has, ho-er, one signal
drawback: the fact dlar the state is ulrimardy a coercive appararos,
and so at udds with tbe W.:al of a '"mmwlily which wuukl be
gmi!Yingly uncoosttained. The whole poiDt of aesthetic taste, as a
model of spiritual communi!)', is that it cannot he forced. If, then,
value is incn:asingly hard to derive either from the WlJ'j the world is or
from lhe way It might feasibly become; if civil society f.s too lowly a
hahit1tion for it and the met~ph)~ical roo lofty a one, then ohere would
63
S«m no alternative but to acknowledge such vlllue's profound
mysu:riousn<'ss. 'Moral sense' is equivalent to confessing dat !here is
no longer any rationally demonstrable basis fur \'aluc, 0\"en if ,..•
ne\'ertheless continue to experience it. Actornlity. li•e aesthetic tasee,
becomes aje,.. J•is qiMli: we just know what is right and wronr , as '''c
know that Homer is superb or that someone is standing on our foot.
Such • •itwpoinl combines the dogmati>m of aU app.,.Js to intuition
or 'felt experience' with a serenely pre- Freudian t:rust in lhe subject's
immediate prtsence to itu l(
One aestheticizing response 10 the problematic origins oh·aluc is
thus to root v:~luc in the delicacie-s of the :alltcti\'e body. Another,
slurply different ae<~hericizing stratell)' is to found value not in
sensibility, but in itself. In this perspective, V3lue is not anything one
could e-ver get bdlirr.d, rcdw:c tu a more fundamcntll order or
principle; it Is radically self-derivati\'e, a law unto itself which bows to
oo exrernal dererminatiorr. This, io effecr, is the. standpoint of Kant's
scoond Critiljue, for wbich the moral law is wholly aulooomous. One
should be good not because it is pleasant or practical, but because it is
mOT:Il to be so, in the sense tlt:~l reason has ao interest in its vwn
pTliCtical function. Such a case draws not upon the aesthetic as
affective - indeed it sets its £ace sternly against 411 mere sensibility-
but upon the aesthetic as outotdic: as that which in d ivine fashion
bears its ends entirel)l within itself, generates itself up miraculously
out of its own substance. ~ mote, to be sure, secures \'2lue
absolutely; but il does so al the dirt cast of threatening to remote it
from the material world in wltich it is supposed w be active. As with the
earlyWingenstein, u lue is in a certain serue no longer in lbe "'Orld at
aU. If value is thus inviololble, it is partly because it is invisible. The
go.emiug order would consequen~y se= left with tittle choice but tu
subjecrivizc value, thus draw;ing it rather too cloK for comfon to lbe
rebtitistic Oux of daily Ufc, or to seal it off from th2t SJ)Mre in a
splendid autonooty not easily rustinguishable from sheer impotence.
Once more, it is the dilemma of either enuusting value to the mercies
of everyday civU society, or alienating it to an Olympian height where
it will merely succeed in measuring the disabling diSiance beiWeen
itself and the actual world.
In a notable bisrorical irony, the binb of aesthetics as an inteUccrual
discourse coincides widJ the period when. cuhural production is
begiMing 10 suffer the miKries and indignities of commodification.
64
 TIU LAW OF THE. HE.'\RT

The peculiarity of lhe aesthetic is in part spiritual compensation fur

this degradation: it is just wbcn 1M artist is bccllllllng deha.<ed to a
petty ooiJllllm!ity producer that he or she wiD lay claim to
tnmsc:endent g.:niu>. But !here i> anvthtT n'liSOn fur the fan-gr<JW1ding
of the artefact which aestllctics achieves. What art is now able to
offer, in thor ide<:Jiogical rtoding of it known as the aesthetic, is a
paradigm of more general social si~i6cancc - an image of self-
referenrialil}' whieh in an audacious move seizes upon lhc 'CJY
functionle!>Sntss or :lJ1i!>1ic proctice and trnnSforms it to. vision of the
lUshest good. 1\s a fonu of value grounded entirely in itself, without
practical rhyme or reason, the aeslhetic is at once eloquent testimony
to lhe obscure origins lllld enigmatic Aature of,.Jue in a soci~ty whi~
W<Juld seem everywhere to deny it, and a utopilln gHmpse nf an
alternative to this ~oTt)· condition. Fnr wh:1t the work of :;art imitates in
its very poimlessness, in 1he constant rno-.·emcnt by which it <.·unjurt-s
itSelf up from its own inscrutable depths, is nothing Jess than human
exisrr.nce itself, which (scandalous~ for the rationnlists and Utililltrinns)
requires uo rationale beyond its own sdf-detiJ:ht. For this Romantic
doctrine, the an work is most ricb in political implications where it is
most cloriously futile.
It may 3lso b<, buv•cvcr, that the aesthetic does more than figure a
new concept ofvaluc . !fit is on the one h>nd autonomous oflhe real,
it might also hold out• protuise of reooociling the SWld<red realms of
fact and value. For Baumgancn, as we N\'C seen, the aesthetic is a
region ad_iacent tn bur di.<!i.tinct from 1he cogniti\'e; wi1h Home~ the
cognitive is steadily redueetlto a fonn of sensibility not far rcmO\'ro
from lite aesdtelil:. One can, however, look at the relation between
these nro sphere~ in a quite different W:\)'· \Vhen sciet1ct: contemplaHS
t:he world, wba.t it knows is an impersonal space of causes and
processes quite independent of the subject, and so alartningly
indifferent tn v-.1lue. Rut che f01<:l th:tl '.l't (.':lfl know tile wurld at aU,
however grim du~- ue¥.~ which lhis km.Jwkd~c might have to de:livcr,
must surely cnlllil S(I!DC fundamental harmony between ourselves and
it. For there to be knowledge in the first place, our faculties must he
somehow maJVellously adjusted to material re:11ity; and for lmmanu•l
Kant it is the conwmpbtiun of this purl' fono of our cognition, of its
very enabling conditions, which is the aesthetic. The aesthetic is no
longer on this \;'iew a tne~ supplt:ot~nt to reason, or a sentiment to
which that n:ason can be n:du<-cd; it is simply the state in whlch

65
common knowledge, in the •ct of reoclllng on t to its object, suddenly
arrests and munds upon itself, forgening irs referent for a moment
and attending instead, in a wondering llash ()[ sclf-cstnngemenr, to
the miraculously convenient way in which its inmost sttuCIUre seein.,
ge;n·ed to !he compreheru.ion of the real It is cognition viewed in a
different tight, taught in the act, so that in this tittle crl.'i' or
revelatory breakdown of our cogniti,,e rou1ines, nol •luJJ we ko.ow but
rhat we know becomes the deepest, roost delightful mystery. The
aesthetic and the cognitive are thus neither dividbie spheres nor
reducible to one anotlter. Indeed the aeschetic is not a 'sphtre' at aU:
it is just the moment of letting go of the world ;and clinging instead to
the formal act of knowing it. If, then, society has clea•·ed human
experience down the middle, confronting an ob~cr drained of
intrinsic n lue with a subject now forctd to generate all ,,.Jue from
itself, the aesthetic will become in Kant's bands a way of healing that
rift, reuniting humanity with a world whicll seems to have turned ill;
b•ck on it.

1 G. W. F. Hq;d, TltrPhiiiJrllf'hyi{Fi~Art(JJmdan, l920), ""1. l ll, p. H .

2 Shaftesbury, 'An Enquiry Concerning Vinue or M.erit', in LA. Selby a

Digge (ed.), Briti<h JltunJut• ((O. rorrl, 189;'), p. H . For the 'mor:.t
sense' school in g<ncnl, see Stanley Greon, Slzafia,.ry's PAc10J8114y of
Rtlipon •nli ErMa (Ohio, 1967); Henning Jensen, Moti::otion And tAt
..lforn/ Smst in HNtchtso•i ErhWJ Thtor:;· (Tbe l bgue, 1971); Gbdys
Bryson, ,Hao and Sukry: TN SCOit#A Enqaity of tit< 18/h Cmt1111
(l'rinc.:ton, 1945); Peter Kivy, 1k Sa.YNth Sa:st: A Study of Fnmtis
Hucm"on< Arrrhttia (New Y<>rt, 1976); R.I.. Bret~ 77tt 71riri uri of
Shaflcrbury (London. 1.951); md E. Tuvcson, 'Shaficsbwy and 1M A,e
of SensibilitY, in H . .>Utderson and J. Shea (eds), Srcul;, ;, AaJhttia ••J
Criticism (Minne:opolis, 1967). For.., :account orJohn I.oc:le'< inllutn<1:
on Hutcheson, sec]. Stolnitz. tLocke. \~.&Jue iUld aesthetics', Phi/.Dfljthy,
\'01. 38 (196J).
3 Sclby-l!lfie, BritiJh Morrdistt p. 37.
4 Shaftcsbury, Ch<mUtrriflin (Glooccstcr, Mass. 1963). \'OJ. I , p. 79.
5 Shafu.•s:tmry, S«o..,J CA.IrtJtl.m• quoted in Grean, Sha{u-slmry'JPlri!Vf.U(Jit.f1
Jl. 91.
6 For a suit1bly .ccrbic review of Shaftesbucy's regressive ideological
reodtncies, .see Robert .Markley, 'Sentinu~nraliry as Ped.:mnance:

66
 TilE LAW OF nQ: HE.'J\T

Sh.oftesbUI)', Sterne, and the Theatrics of VirtuC', in F. N""'bawn and

L. Brown (005), Tl11 Nno Eightmll, O.tr111 (New York. 1987).
7 HutdH:snn. 'An luquiry concemiu~ the Original of our lck:•s of Virrue
or Mornl Good', in Sen,--Ri0'!1", Britnb M..,Wsts p. 70.
8 Athm Smith, ;The Theory of Mont ScntimcniS', in Selby· Bigge, Britoh
MtmJIJlu p. 321 .. For a userul aooouJlt of problems ufsoci.:al cohe:sion in
the eigllltenth cenrury, see Jobn BmeD, EnQish Liunnurt in HiJwry
1730-80: Aa EfU44 Wtb Sun<y (London, 1983), lntroduc:lion.
9 It i s ..-orth poinrinr out thar if the monl sauo mcorisu :ue correct in
wb2t they •ffinn, then they are the laSt morallSlS. I'or if right conduct is
grounded in intuitio11, thm it is hard 10 sec why there is a need for ethical
discourse at all. Tbe mtmtl sense phiJosophtrs do of cours-~ sec tht need
for such di.scou~e a,~ a way o( c:laborating, clari(ylng and if necessary
transforming our intuitions; bm the lent.iency of thekr c;rsre at its 1nlM
euphoric is 10 argue themselves steadily oot of OO.U...S. EtiUc:ol
discourse is necessary p~cisely beuuse what aJOnts as being, say,
compauionate in p2nicvlar circumstances is: f.u from clear. Tbc \'tl')'
cxis:1cntc of'morallanguage' thus tc.stilics to our moral sclf-<~paqucncss.
It is prccisdy because of this sclf·opaqucncn. and because we ar<
sonlelitnt'S confromed wi.dt choices brt~~~~ in(:()mpatible goods, that
t.he l3nguage uf e1hi~ is nECt:SS2.ry.
10 David Hun1c, 'Of the Sundord ofTasle', in lis>•J'S (London, u.d.), I'·
175. s.. also Jerome Stolnitz, 'On the Origin.< of 'Ae.<Jhetic Dis-
interestedness', ; ..,..J of Aal!ttria rmd Art Criti<ism, ,-oJ. XX, no. 2
(1961).
II Selby-Biac, e,;IJS.4 A·l.,..liJN p. 258.
12 Ridtard Price, 'A Rcriew of the Principal Questions in Morals', in
Selby-BiJ!S",llriiUio MondnN pp. 106-7, 133.
13 Louis Althusser, 'ld.Oiogy nnd ldeoJugic:rl Shlte Apparutusos', in Lmi11
onJ ~~, (Loodon, 19il).
14 Hegel, Phm--log; ofSpirit (Oxford, 1977), Jl· 222.
IS Ernst Cassitcr, Plti1Mtt4y oflh< /Jolif/tlo:rrt<ot (Jloston, 1951), p, 313.
16 Edmund Burke, 'First Letter on • Regicide Puce', quoted by Tony
TanDU, ]arrt Amtm (LondOn, 1986), p. 27.
17 Btrncll Spinoza, 11rt Polwm Wom , ed. A. G. Wemlwn (Oxford, 195~).
p. 93.
18 Ed.mund Busb:, fl4lurimrs .., th< Frnulr R""'blli"" (Londoo, 1955),
p. 88.
19 F=co More11i, 11re 11'4)' o{tht Wor/J (l.ond.on, 198i), p. 16.
20 Selby-Dine. British MMJ/isn p. 107.
21 Sec jacques Derrida, Of Crrzmma1o/oty (l!alllmorc, 1974), Pan 2,
dtaptcr 2.

67
2Z r\s fir as- the '1cxtuality' of hi:stor)' goes, Humc comments in his 1'no:tiu
on the multiple copies by which :my p:tr1icubr hio; l(~l fac1 is tr.ms-
mined: 'Before lhe knowledge of the fact coold come to the first historian, it
tnusl' be convcy'd tltro1 many mouths.; and 2ftcr it is committed to
writing, each new copy iJ a ocw object, of which lhc conncKtion \\;th the
roregoing is knolm only by experience and obscmtion' {lirariu •f
Huma" N~;fllrr, p. 145). Hume weU gntspt'd, (li.lrRrlla /m~, lht muJcrn
principle cf 'intenexwuaiity' :ttul lhe sceptitistn with which il is
.s<•ncllOlt:S COtlpled; he COncludes Jhis r»ec:C of argument With the cb.im
rhat the cvideru:.~ .-,r al.l :un:ietd his.tory is now lost to us.
2J See NOilllOil Kemp Smith, Tk PMIOI.plry of Daoid lluo1t (London,
194 1). Sec: :also, fer useful accowus oi Huroc, Peter jones, 'Cause,
Reuoo and Objectl\il)' in Hume's Aeslhctlcs', in D. W. Uvinpton and
J. T. KJnr (eds), Hu,.c: A Jlccaluorion (New York, 19761; llany SllOUd,
HuMr (London, t9n); ll.oocn J. l'ogclm, Hu'""'s S~..pricilm m rhr
Trnm'se fl.{ Huwwn Naiurt!' (l.or.u1oo, 1985), :m.d Alao;d:air Mac.lot)Tc:l
ltl.r~e].,filr:? Wind. l?oJi.,../ily? (Londoo, 1988), chopters 15 and 16.
24 Da•id Hume, TrulliseofHumiln N111ure, ed. L. !\. Sclb)··BiJ!ge (Oxford,
1978), p. i69. All subsequent refer<nees to t:hJs wort will be pen
J>lU'CnWdollly after quotarions In the tcoet.
25 [)avid Humc, f.'~irir:s amrnning llu Huwwn lin.tkmtmJing 1mJ 1lu
PriNipla ofMoroh, .,1. I.. A. Selby-Ri!!b"' (0>fon:d, l% I), 1'· 293. All
sttbsequent references [0 this "'()rk will be gi\'cl\ pa.renthetically after
qool:UiCII)!Oin the te.~t.
26 Hume, Ess•ys, p. 165.
27 Ibid, p. I 78.
28 EdmUIId Burt<, Phil...pAiMI l•quiry int• '~' Origin 11/ our )Iii., of the
Sul!lr'mNnd tht Jmutifir/, in 1iu Wor.ls o/EdMUM B'"*" (London, 1906),
'\'Ill. 1. p. 95. All !-."'UhSCqut:nt refcreru.:cl-1 to this wvrk will be given
panmthtH.ically nftr.r qu()l:ltinns in chc Iext. !iee al,;o, for ~tudies of the
rellltions between Burke's politics and aesthetics, Neo>l Wood, 'The
Authetic Dimension of Burl<e's Politic>) Thousht', ]<Y.Jmol •f 8rirish
Srvdia no. 4 (1%4); Rnn:ald Paulson, 'The Sublime •nd the Beautiful',
in Jlcpmcnr•riMJ of !Uw/ution (Ntw Ha\'en, 1983), and W. j. T .
Mitchell, 'E)·e •nd Ear: F..dmund Burie and !he Politics of Sensibility', in
frmwlnfJ· (Chicab>o, 19R6).
2~ Althussu, 'Ideology and Ideological State ApparatuS<$'.
30 SigrnUDd Freud, 17r<Ego alfli th< ld, in Siprll1li "'"'''On MnaPfy<no!o/1)·
(Harmot>dswortb, 1984), p. 3b0.
31 Mary Wollsronecmft, Jlinditdti.. o/ "" Rigl!ss of Mm (GainesvjU.,
tlori<ho, 1960), p. I H.
32 Ibid., p. I 16.

68
 THE LAW OF Tf.IF. f.IF.AAT

33 Ourl:e, /Uflut;tms rua lhr Fn.nck Rnxdutiatt p. SQ.

1

34 Ibid., p. 59.
JS Ibid., p. H.
36 Ibid., p. 75.
37 Quoted in Ki\y, Tftt Sevm1h Smst p. 9.
38 Tbomasl'ain<:, 7~t Rishu ofMatt (London, 1958), p. 2t.
39 Wolbwnc<:nft, l'imiifJJ!;..,, p. 5.
40 j ohn Stulart Mill, £"'!1" "" Bmrbam and 01/rrlilgr, ed. F. R. Leavis
(London, 1962), p. 73.

69
 3
The Kantian Imaginary

Why i• it that modem philosophy ha.• retumed so often to the

question of episteonol<'!n'? Wl•y slHl<•ld the droma of subject •nd
object, the fraught narrative of their couplintp and splittings,
m.uchings and misalliances, have so consistently dominated the
modem philusupbirnl stage, like the mle uf two incompatible partnrts
continually warring to gain an edge over each other, who nevertheless
cannot relinquish their fatal fascination for one another and rcsoh'e
yet again, after another painful separation, 10 make a go of it?
That the individual subj'ecr should come ro occupy centn: stage,
relru:erpreting lhe world with reference 10 Itself, follows logically
enough from bo"-'8"ois economic •nd political practice. But the more
the world is lhus subjeclivizccl, the more this a!J..priviledged subject'
begins to undem1ioe tbe very objective condition< of it< own pre-
eminence. The wi<kr the >1Jbjcct extends its imperial sway over
reality, lhc more it relativizes that terrain to its own needs and desires,
dissolving the world's substance into ~te stuff of it5 own senses. Yet
the more it thereby erodes any objective criteria by "tlich to measure
the signilieaoce or even reality of its 0'1>11 experience. The subject
n<!.ds w know that it is suprem.ty valu:~ble; b.•t i t c':lllnot know this if
its own sotipsism has eanccllcd out any S<:alc by which such value
might be assessed. What is this subject privilegcdiN<r, if lhe world
has been st..,dily dwindled 10 no moro than an o~dient mirror inuge
of itsdf1 The botugl'ois •·ubjto.ct would seem in this sense a tr•gically
sel{Cdeteating creature, one whose \'CI)' sdf-allinnalion tums in-
exorably bock upon itself to eat away at its own enabting conditions.
'We must ponder the ;momaly', writes Fredric Jameson,
 '11-IE KANTI.I\I'o: IMAGINARY

in""'
dUll it is only most completely humanise<! emironn>ent,
the one the most fully and obviously the end product of
human labour, prnduc.rion, and transformarlon, tlw Ufe
bccomc.s mc:aningkss, and lhat e:x.i.sten.tiitl de.-.pair first
appears as such in direct proponion to the elimination of
nature, d.e non- or ami-h umon, oo the increasing rollback
of everything that threatens human life and the prO>l"'Ct of
a well-nigh lirniliess control over the extenul universe.'

A c.eltlin ohjecriviry is tbe'"'I)"condition of subjecrhood, -..i!lcb must

have .II the solidity of a m•terilll fact, and yet which cannot be by
definition any such tbing. It is vital that the wurid eunlinru; my
subjectivity, yet I •m a subject nnly in .<o far>.< I bring tht< world to be
in the first place. In appropriating the whole of external nature, the
~<lis subject disco~= to its OOCIStem>tion that it has appropriated
its own objecrivity along with it. ·
'Objectivity' could here be roughly translated as the imperative:
' You re.<pect my property and 111 respect· yours.' The other
establishes my objectivity by le.,ing me alone, and confers freedom
and obj~thity on himaelf1n the same act. l'roperry, the very mark
and seal of >ubj<c"tivity, is nothing if not backed by a comple> system
of legal safeguards and political guarantees; but the ,.cry subjectivlsm
of a property-owning order will tend to rum tre3<berously :agolnst on
S\ICh objtcti,·c 5&a"-1ions, which can uever bave the same existential
force or ontological reality as the subject ltaelf. The non-subjccti"llc
can be outltenticoted only through the medium of the subject's
cxpc:ricncc, where it is aiWllys in peril of being oonvcrtcd intu sdlboo.t
and so abolished. Alternatively, tbat which remains beyond the seu· is
equally derealized in a world where subjectivity is the measure of all
things. The bourgeois subject requires §Orne Other to assure irseu·
that its powers and properties are more than hallucinatory, that its
acti"llities Iurie meaning because they take place in a· shared objective
world; yet such otherness is 2i<o intoleuble oo tbe subject, and must
be eitlrcr expelled or illlrojccted. There can be no sovereignly without
someone to reign over, yet his Y<."f'Y pn:sciJCc lhKa.tens to thruw one's
lordship into jeopardy. Th:rt which confirm.• the •ubject'• identity
cannot help exposing it as constrained; to mark .J"'"' limit ('keep off
my property!') is oo sketch, impossibly, my own.
Wothout some slllndard or objectivity, the subject is reduced to

71
conferring value upon itself, in what is at once the defiant boast of the
modem ('I take vulue from myself alone!') and its hollow C'l)' of
anguish Cl am so lonely In this universe!'). It Is the double narure <>f
humani.~m. which appears to know no middle ground bc:n.·ec::o the
mania of exerting its powers and the depressive knowledge that It
docs so in cmpry space. So it is that [(,u,t will strive to repai r the
subjectivist damage wrought by Humc's sceptical empiricism by
restoring the objecti\·c order of things, but restoring it - since there
c•n now be no lopsing back into a !.-ubj.:ctless rntionalism - from
within the standpoint of the subject itself. In an heroic labour, the
objective world must be S.llvaged from the ravages of subjectivism and
patiently reconstructed, but in a space where the subject, however
constimted by the celebrated categories, is still sovereign. Not only
>;QYereign, indeed, but (in contnst to the sluggish subject of
empiricism) lltloyantly octive, with all tlte produclive t'tlcrgy of an
epistemological entrepreneur. The point will be to preserve that
shapiog energy without subverling tlte objeclive realm which guarantees
its signifi<·ane<:; and Kant will thus trace within the very texrure of the
subject's experience that which points beyond it to the re:tliry of the
materi•l world. T be productive acliviry of this •ubject will socure
objectiviry rather than undermine it; there will be no more sawing
oway ot the branch on which one sit<.
If the essence of subjecthood is frccdOID, then bOulJCois man
seems condemned to self~blindne.s at the very pe2k of hi< pnwefll,
sioce freedom is by de6n.ition unknowoble. \\1,.1 can be kotJwn is the
determinate; and aU we can say of subjectivity is that whatever it is it is
certainly not that. The subject, the founding principle of the whole
enterprise, slips through the net uf reprl'Sentation and 6gures in its
very uniqueness as no more than a mute epipiW!y or pregnant
silence. If the world is the sysrem of CO!:Diuble objects, then the
•'Ubjecl which lrnows these objects cannot itself be in the ....,rid, any
more than (as the early Witrgenstein remarks) the eye can be an
oblecr within lts own visual field. The subject is not a phenomenal
entity to be reckoned up along with lhe objects it moves among; it is
that which brings such objects ro presence in the first ph!ee, and so
m<WeS in a different sphere enrirely. The subject is not a phenomenon in
the WClrld but a transcendental vic~~>point up<Jn it. We can, so to spe•k,
squint at it sidcwa)'S as it gives itself along with the things it
represents, but like the spectral othor whu walks beside }OU in The

72
 Wll$k lAnd it '"'nishes if Y<lU try to look at it !rtraight. Getting a fix on
the subject opens up the dizzying prospect of an infinite regress of
meta-subJects. Perhaps, then, the subject can figure only negatively,
as empty excess or tNoscendence of any particular. We cannot
comprehend the subject, but as with the Kanrian subtimc we can, as it
were, comprehend its incomprehensibility, which appears as the
negarion of all detcrminat-y. The subject st-.:ms somehow squel.7ed
out of the ~ry system of .,·hich it is the 1)11Chpin, at once soUKe and
supplemen~ creator and leftU\Ier. It is that wbich brings the world to
presence, but is banislled from its own creation and can by no means
be deduced from it, other than in the rhJ,nnmcnological sense that
there must be something whid1 appeanUice is an appearance to. h
govems and m•nipulate.< Nature, yet since it eonulns no partide of
materiality in its own make-up it is :a mystery how it comes to ha,,e
truck 1\ith anything as lowly as mere objects. This prodigal
structuring power or unfathomable caracity seems aJ the woe time
sheer paucity and negation, l)ing- as it does at tbe very limit of what
can be known. Freedom is the very lifebreath of the bourgeois order,
yet it ('llllJiot be image-d in itself. TI1e moment we try to encircle it with
a concept, seize upon our own shadows, it slips over the borizDn of
our knowledge, leaving nothing in our grasp bt•t the grim laws of
necessity of external Nature. The 'I' denotes not a substance but a
formal perspective upon re3llty, •nd there is DO dear way of
descending from this transcendental unify of apperception to one's
humdrum nwerW existence In the world. The enrerprise of science
is, possible, but nlUSt r:ttl C)tltside the domain it inve~tigates. Knower
and known do not occupy a shared fidd, even if tbat intimate traffic
be~en them which is knowledge might suggest that they do.
If freedom is to flourish, if tbe subject is to extend its colonizing
sway over things and sump them with its indelible presence, then
systematic knowledge of the world is essentia~ •nd this must include
knowledge of other subjec!S. You cannot hope 10 opente as on
efficient capitalist in blisbe ignorance of the law. of human
psychology; and this i< one rea.<nn why the ruling order needs at its
disposal a body uf detailed knowledge of the. subject, which goes by
the name of tbe 'human sciences'. \Vltho~t knowledge y<lU caanor
hope to be fr~; yet knowledge anti freedom are also in a curious
sense antitheticaL If it is essential to my freedom that I should know
others, then it foUows that they can know me too, in which case my
73
ITeedom may be cunailcd. I can alw~-s c<>rtJIOie myself' with !he
li•ought tll•t whatever em be known of me is by de6oition not ote, is
beterouomow to my authentic being, since the >-ubje~~ cannot be
captured in an obicct:ilrc representation. Out in this case, one might
~e, I merely purchase my freedom at its own expense, gain it and
lose it at • strol:e; for 1have now also deprived myselfof the possibiliry
of knowing others in their very es.<;ence, and it might be thought mat
sucll knowledge is essential to my self-development
Knowledge, in otherwords is to some drgrte in C()lltrad icrion wilh
1

the power it exists to prom.o1e. Fur tht: 'human scit:nccs•, subjects

must be inteltipblc and predictable; but the transparency whicll this
entails is at odds with the doctrine of the inscrutability of the human
with whlcb capitalism strives to mystify its social relations. All
knowledge, as Romanticism is aware, contains a secret irony or
incipient contradiction: it muSI at once mas.rer irs object and confronr
it as other, acknowledgl' in it an autonomy it simultaneously subvens.
The f•ntasy of toraltechnologicol nmnipotencr conceals a nighmure:
in appropriating Nature you risk erndic8tiu~ it, appropriating nothing
but your own acts of consciousncS$. There is a similar problem .,ith
rredict:lbility, wblcll in surrendering pbOll<llll<Ona inm the bands of
the sociological priests threatens to abolish history. Predictive science
founds the great P"''f<'Sllivc narntiv<-s of middle-class history, but by
the same stmke offers to undermine them, convening all diachrony to
a se<.-ret synchrony. History as risk, enterprise and adventure is in
deadlock with rhc most pri,•ilcg«< form of bourgeois cognjtion, the
Eros of hi<tory at odds "itb the Th4Mios of science. To be frte means
to cakulate the muv"" of yuur competitors while "'n~aining s;,:urely
impervious to such calculability oneself; but such calculations may
themselves modiJY one's compelitors' bebariour in ways that impose
limits on one's uwn free project. There would be uo w•y for lite mind
to muter this \'Olotile situation as a whole; such knowl<dgl', in Kant's
terru.5, woold be the metaphysiC3l fantasy of a non-perspectival
Wldcrstsndiog. A c<nain blindness is the ,.ery condition of bourgeois
history, whiC:h rhrive..' on its ignorance of .an assured outcome.
Knowled!:" is power, but the more you hll'le of it tile more itthreatens
to reb you of your desire and render you impotent
Fnr Kant, all oognition of others is doomed to be purely
phenomenal, forever remute from the secret sprin&'S of subjectivity.
Someone can tabulate my interests and desires, but if I am not to be a
74
 Til£ KANTIA." IMAGINAAY

mere empirical ooj«1 I mu>t be tr•ns..-.:n<kut of th~ things, of all

lh.1t can be mapped by empiric•! knowledge. No ow:h researd! can
resulve the delicate issue of bOY.· sudt inler~'tS and desire-s come to
be mitu - of what !t is for me, rather than you, to experience this
particular yearning. Knowledge of human subjects is impn.ssihle n(lt
because they are so devious, multiple aud decenrred as to be
imrenerrably opaque, but because it i.< simply a mistal:e to think that
the subjtct is tltc kind of thing that could ever possibly be • nov.11.lt is
just D()t a feasible object of cognition, any more than ' Being' is
something we could know in the s.ame manner as a slab of marzipan.
\Vhatc-.cr we think we arc knowi11~ win always tum out to be some
suitably spirirualizcd entity, thought along the lines of a material
object, the mere p.m:><ly or t;hostly after-ima&e of a thing. Indeed
Jacques Derrida has shown how, when Kant cumes to imagine human
freedom, be sUps inoo conceiving this most immaterial of realities in
terms of an organic natural object.' The subject is absnlutely nothing
whatSoever of an object -which is to say that it is a kind of oodling,
rh3t this -vaunted libeny is also a vacancy.
Of course, to have a phenomenal koowlcdgc of others may in fact
be enough for using them to our own advantage. But it may not be felt
sufficient for cunstructing the kind of '"li'"rsal subjectivity whicb a
ruling class requires for itS ideological solidarity. For this pwposc, it
might be possible to main to something which, while not snictly
knowledge, is non<the!ess very like iL This pseudo-knowledge is
what is knov.11 as the aesthetic. When, for Kont, we find ourselves
concurring spontaueou.dy in an aesthetic Judgement, able to agree
that a certain phenomenon is sublime or beautiful, we exercise a
precious form of intersubjecti\ity, estabtisbing OUI'Selvcs as a com-
munity of feeUng subjectS linked by a qulck sense of our shared
capacities~ The aesthc...-tic is in no v.11y cognitive. but it has about it
something of the form and strUCture of the rational; it thus unites us
with all the authority of • law, but at a more affective, intuitive level.
Vihat brinp us together as subject> is not knowledge but an indl'abk
reciprocity of feeling. And this is cenainly one major reason why the
aesthetic has figured so cenlntlly in bourgeois thought. For the
alanning truth is that in a soci21 order marked by class division and
marlcet competition, it may finally be here, and only here, that human
beings belong together io some intimate Ccm<ittJ<ltsfi. At the level of
theoretical discourse, we know one auotber only as objects; at the
75
level of morality, "''C know and n:o-p<:ct ca<h olhcr as au1ono1110us
subjecls, but can have no concept ofwlw thi$ means, and • sensoous
f""Ung for oc.hers is oo essen1ial element of such knowledge. In lhe
sphere of ac,;thrtic culture, how..-cr, we cin ~riencc our shared
hwnanil}' ,.Uh all the ~diacy of our response to a fine painting or
lllllgni6cent sympho.ny. Parado~y, it is in the apparently most
private, li'til and intansfble asptC15 of our lioles lhat we blend most.
hmmonioll.'lly with one another. Titis is at once an astonishingly
optimistic: and bi~terly pessimistic doctrine. On the OtiC hand: ' How
marvellous lhat human unity can be found installed in the very
inwardness of the subject, and in that most sc:trninJiy wayward and
capricious of rc:;pons.:s, acslhctic 12Stcl' On lhe olher band: 'How
•ickeningly JM'CCarinus human solidarity must be, if it can finally be
rooted in nolhing more resilient than the ''agmes of aesthetic
judgement!' If the •esthetic must bur the burden of huiiWI
communil}·, Ibm political society, one might suspect, must leave a
good deal to be desired.
Kant's OWD political society was not, of course, by any means of •
fially-d..-elop<:d bourgeois kind; and to ~k of him as a bourgeois
philosopher may therefore seem to some merely anachroDlslic:. There
ore many ways, however, in wf>icb hi< thought adumbrates the ideal<
of middle-class libenllism - in whicb his thinking is utopian in lhat
pooritivc, cllrichcnin( scru;c. from the bean of autocraa;y, Kantove;ks
up buvely for values which Will prO¥e ultimately sulwtrsive of that
r<Jime; but it is curioosly one-sided to claim Kant in this sl}:le as a
Iibellll champion, and to overtoot the ways in which his lhought is
already disclosing some of the problems and contradictions of the
emergent middle-class order.
If we cannot, strictly speaking, know the sub~ct, then at least- so
""' 0111 console ourselves - we caD know lhe object. In a no12ble irony,
however, Ibis latter operation rums out in bourgeois 50Ciety tu be
quite as unthinkable as lhc f()[Dier. If it is wen known that Kant views
the human subject as ooumena~ quite beyond the pale of conceptual
enquiry, then it is e\·en betll:t knov.11 that be b<licvcs ju•t the >arne of
the object, the infamous, insCl'Utllble DinK-ae-Jidt which. slides over
one borizm of our knowledge liS the pban1asmal subj!'Ct vanishes
over the other. Georg LuUcs has argued that this opaqueness of the
object in Kant is an effect of reification, whereby nuterial products
remain heterogeneous in their rich particularity to the formal,

76
 ·11i£ KAN"IlAN IMAGINARV

commnd;fied categories which seck to encomp2SS lhcm.' They mlJSt

accordingly be consigned to 1he 'irrotioool' outer darkness ol the
unknowable, leaving thought to confront lhc mtrc shad.,... uf it;cl£
The Dint-an-sidJ is in lhis sense less some supmensible elllily lhan
lhe material limit of aU such reilicatory though~ a fain1 echo of the
re:al's mute re.<;l<tlnce to it. To recm-er the so-called lhing in itself as
usc-value and social product would then be simultaneou.<ly to revul
it as suppressed socW rotallty, restoring those social relations which
the commodified c:negories ble:tch out. PreocC11pi•d with materiaUty
th~h Kant undouba:dly is, it is as thuugh matter canout appear iu
all its irreducibility wi1hln the K.mdan system; but It is precisely this
matter, in the fonn of certain cuntraili""tory social relations, whicb
generates the strUcture of r.he entire ~'$1em in the fim pW:e.
The thing in iLSelf is !bus a kind af empty signiller of 1ha1 tow
knDWiedge which the bourgeoisie never ceases to dream ot; but "''hicb.
illi own fragmenting, disse...,ring activities continually fru.<trate.ln the
act of knowinJ, the subject ctrulot help but project from its inevitably
partial perspective the phantasmal possibility of • knowledge beyond
aU catcgori<.'S, which then risks striking what it "'" know •neagrely
relati1:o. The subjealanguishes In lhe grip of a rabid eplstemopbilla
whicb is at once logical to its project- to hold the whole world in a
single lbouglu!- and potentially subversive of it. For such mct1ph,.>Sical
delusion<; simply distract it from the proper business of actual
knowledge, which must always be koowledge from one perspective or
another. 'On the one hand', writes Lulics, ' (Jhe bourgeoilie)
acquires increasing oontrul m·er the details of its social existence,
suhjocdng !bern to !IS needs. On the other band, it loses- likewise
progressively - the possibility of gaining intellectual control of society
as a whole and wilb that it loses its own quslilications for leadership."
At d1e height of irs dominance, then, the bourgeois class finds it5elf
<-uriously dispossessed by the order it has created, wedged as it is
between an ullknowab!e subjectivity on the one side a.nd an
uomaster•ble object on the orher. The real world is irrational, beyond
the mastery of the subject, a sheer invis<ble tra~ of resistam:c to the
catc:gories of the understanding, which confront it in the manner of
empty, abotrncl fonns expelling some brute faeticity. The categories
themselves are in lhis sense awdelled em the commodil)' fonn. In lhis
siruation, one can settle stoically for the irreducibility of the real to
thought, thus recognizing the limits of one's own subjectivity; or one

77
C3ll follow me pllm of a Hegel and seek to recuperate me material
object itself ..ithln the mind. The former, Kanrian strategy secures
for the subject a real environment, but ot me cost of a curtailment of
irs powers. Obj~ indubitably exist, but they aon ne'ler be fully
2ppropriated. 1ne bner, Hegelian tlWloeu""' allows )'(lU fully to
appropriate me object; but in what s~ it is then truly an obj<:d is
U'Oublingfy obscure. Expansive powers are secured for the subject,
but a1 the risk of di<soMng av.'ay the objective realm which might
gu.trantee them.
Once again, how<>·er, lhe uathetic is able to come to philosophy's
•id. For in the sphere of ustheric judgement, objec:ts ore uncovered
wbich seem at once real yet wholly given for the subject, veritable bits
of muerW Nature which arc nevenhcless deUgbtfully pliant to lhe
mind. However contingent dleir existence, these objects display a
form which is somebolr.· mysteriously necessary, which bails and
enpges us with a grace quite unknm.n m lhe lhings in themselves,
which merely tum their backs upon us. IJJ the aesthetic represe.ntlllioo,
that Is to say, we glimpse for an exhilarated momeot lhe possibUily of
a non-alienated object, nne quite the re'l...., of 2 oommodity, which
6.ke the 'auratic' phenomenon of a Walter Benjamin returns our
tender pzc and whi>;pcrs that it Wllli or.:atcd for us alooc.' In another
sense, however, thi• fl)l'tnal, desensualized aesthetic ob~ct, wllich
octs as 2 point of exchongt between subjec~s., can be read ns • kind of
or
spiritualized \'ersion the very rommodity it rcsis!S.

Displaced from lhe understanding, frum the domains of Nature aDd

hlsmty, totality In Kant comes to take up its home instead in the reUtl
of practical reason. To act monlly for Kant is In <et a.sidc ail de:;ire,
int.crest and Inclination, identifying one's r.uiornl will instead with a
rule which one con propose to oneself 2S a unhvoal Jaw. What makes
an a<.'tion moral is someth.iug it manifests u\·er and above any
panicular quality or effcc~ nom<ly it; wilkd tonformil)' to universal
law. What i$ impomnt i• the act.ofratioftallywilling w action .. an
end. in itself. What we will when we act mor.tlly is the only thing of
absolute, unconditional worth: rational agency itself. We should be
moral bcc:lllSe it is moral to be so.•
To be me and rationol - in sltort, to be a subject - ,_ns to be
entirely self-determining, obcyinr only such laws as I propose to
myself, and treating myself :L.'ld my action 2S an end rather lh2n a

78
moans. fn:c subjcctiYily i• thus a noumcnal affair, quite absent from
the phenomenal world. Freedom C>MOt be directly caplllftd in a
cuncq>t or im:oge, ami must be known prnc"lically nther than
theoretically. I lnow I am free b«ausc I catch m)'SCif Kliag that way
out ofthe comer of my eye. The monl subject inhabits the intelligible
rather than material sph..,.., thougb it must coJJStllntly stri\1! in
mysterious fashion to materialize its values in the acrual world.
HuliWI beings live simultanooosly as free subjects and detennined
objec:ts, slalles in NaNrC to laws which have no bearing on lhcm in the
spirit. Like the Freudian subject, the K2nrian indmdtul is rodially
'split', though with • cenain inversion: the world beyond appeazanc.:s
- the IIDCOlliCious - is where 10.. freud we arc lllOSI dloroughly
detennined, 2nd the 'phenomenal' sphere of rhe ego the place where
we c:m eun a fiail degree of will The material world for Kant is
nolhing like a subject, opparcntly inhospilable to freedom; but it is the
locus of free subjects even so, who belong to it completely al 0t1t l.vel
and not ot oD It onollwr.
The subject for Kant, then, is everywhere free 2nd everywhere in
chains; and it is not difficult to decipher- the social logic of dlis
contndiction.ln class sociery, the subject's cxctdse of freedom is nor
only ch2ncterlstiu0y 21 the expeno;e of others' nppres<ion, but is
gathered up into an aDOOymous, subjeclless process of cause and
effect which will finallr come to confront lhe subject itself witb all the
dead weight of • fattlity or 'second n>ture'. In an eloquent passage,
Karl Man: sketches os social contradiction what remains for Kant an
unsurpassable conundrum in thought:

In our days, everything seems pregD211t with iiS contrary.

1'112chlnery gifted ,.ith the wonderful power of shortening
and fruccitjiog human labour, we behold stln'ing and
0\'erworldng it. The ncw-fanJied soorces of weoltlt, by
some Slrange, weird spell, are turned into sources ofwant.
The victories of art seem bought by the loss of cbaraccer.
At the same pace that mankind masters natllrc, raan SC:CIIUI
to hooc become enslaved 10 other men and to his own
infomy. Even the pure light of science seems unable to
shine but on llw dark backlfOW!d of ignorance. AD our
invention and progress seem to result in endowing material
forces wilh intoU"'-1ual life, and in stullitjing human life
79
 into a material force. TIUs antagonism betw<!en modern
industry •nd science on the one baud, between misery and
dt«olution on the other; this antllgooism bttween the
productive forces and t11e social relations of our epoch is a
fact, palpable, 0\le.,.,hebu!ng, aud not to be contravened.'

In such conditions, freedom is botmd to appear al once as the essence

of subjectivity and a.s urmly unfathomable, the dynamic of history
which is nowhere locatable in the material world, the condition of all
actioo which nc-.ctthel<:>s cannut be rcpreserored wilhln iL Freedom
in such circumstances is strangely undecidable; chat~"'"'' be free if
oO this has come aboul, yet that what comes •boul is ahe ne!l3rion of
libtny, is the sucial ""'""•live of Kant's philosophical double-think.
My freedom in•olves being tteated by others as an end ill m~;yet
once I am established in that autonomy, I can then proceed in the n:al
!i10CW world to strip 1hose others of their DWn equivalem independence.
Nownenal and phenomenal realms rhus constllndy undo each oilier,
as the subjeca is toosed ro and fro 'beaween lhtlla.just as rhe Diwg·an·
sidz is the dark shadow thrown by the !ipt ofphenomenal knowledge,
so irOil necessity iJ the secn:t underside of liberty. It iJ n()(, as Kant
believes, lha t we mo,·e in two simultanoous but Incompatible worlds,
bur ahaa our movement in the ghostly arena of'noumenal' fr«dom js
precisely the perpetual reproduction of phenomenal enslavemenL
The subject lives not in dh>lded and distinguished worlds but at the
aporelic imersection of the IWO, where blindness and insight,
cmaucipatlon and subjection, are muruaDy constlrulivc.
Alasdoir Macintyre bas argued that the purely fonnol n;~ture of
mural judgement in ""ch thinkers as Kana is the consequence of a
history in which 1110ral questions Iurie ceased to be intelligible against
a settled background of social roles and n:lations .•Jn certllin forms of
pn:-bouiJtuiS suciery, the qu•stion ofhuw • subject uughlto behave
is closely bound up with its location wilhln the socialslnlct\m:, so that
a sociological deocription of the complex rebtions in which an
individual sr.ands would inescap.1bly invol~e :a norm:ttive discourse
too. Certain rights, duties and obliptions an: internal to sodal
functions, so that no finn distinction is possible bcnveen a sociological
idiom of fact and an ethical discourse of value. Once the bocugeois
social order beJins Ill reiJY fact, and to consttuct a kind of human
subject lr.IJISCendentally prior to its social relations, this historically

80
 THE. K.\NTJA."J I..'L\GINARY

groomdod ethks is bound to enter into crisis. What one oupt to do

can no longer be deduced from what, socially and politically speaking,
one actually is; a new disttibudon of discourses accordingly comes
ahout, in which a positivist language of sociological description breaks
loose from ethical evalu•don. EthleaJ norms thus float free, breeding
one or another fonn of intuitinni~m, decisioni~m or finalism. If one
can retun1 no social answer lo the question of lww one- ought to
behave, lhen vinuous behaviour, for some theorists " least, must
become an end in it<elf. So!lro is rem011ed from !he sphere of
hisrorical acrion and amlysis; one must behave in a particular way
simply bccaw;c one must.
The ln('>r:ol, th>t is to soy, is tending tow:~rds the autotelic ruature of
the aesthetic - or, what amowlls to the some lhiog, lhe work of an is
now becoming ideologically modtlled on a certain •elf-referential
conception of ethical value. Kant has no truck with tlte heady
Romantic impulse to acathc:ticizc morality: the moral '""'is a supreme
court of aweal elevated abO\Ie all mere beauty, even if that beauty is
in some sense a symbol of it. \'\'hat is right is by no mcam ncocssarily
agreeable; inde<:d for the scvc:rcly purilanieal sage of Kiinissberg
there is a ckar implication that the more we act against a1Ta'1i,·e
impubc, the UUlrc morally admirable we become. But if the moral law
is raWcally anti-aosthctic in ~ntent, dismissing all considerations of
happiness, spon12neity, benevolence ond creative fulfilment for the
;ingle •'tarl< imperative of duty, it nonetheless mimes the aesthetic in
its fonn. Practical reuon is wholly awonomous and self-grounding,
bears its ends within it~elf, spurRS all vulgar utility and brooks no
argument. As 11.ith the wort of art, law and frtedom are here at one:
our submission to the moral law, IUnr reonarks, is at ooce free, yet
boond up with an wur.oidable compulsi<.>n.
It is in this sense, among others, !bat the moral and the aeslhetic
are for Kant somewhat analogcus. While in tire phel1011l0nal r""lm we
live subject to mechanical causality, our nonmmal selves arc
simulta11euu•ly wc.rving behind or across this region some aW~:some
ancfact or magnifioenr poem, :as the tree subject shapes its actions not
in t£rms of mechanical c-•use and effect but in relation tu tbat
tele<Jiogical totality which is Reason. A truly frte will is one
detertnincd only by its resolute orientation to this organic totality of
ends and ro the requirement of their h•rmonious unity, moving in a
sphere where •ll inst.rument'lll adaptation of means to ends has been
81
 trsnsmured into purposive or expressive acliviry. Any hW!Wt act can
be ,;ewed simultaneously as conditioned by a causal chain of evems
received fr()Jll the past, and as dircctc-.1 towards future ends and their
systematic coherence - viewed, !hat is Ia say, as phenomenal facr
from the former perspective und as vnlue from the latter' And Ibis
rCCODCil.ation of ends and means in the kingdom of Reason is also the
conslruclioo of a noumenal community of free subjects, a realm of
norms and persons mher dwl of objectS and desires, each of whom
is an end in herselfyer by that very fuc.t integrally insened into a tow
inreUigible design.. If ,..• live our lives aJ one level in marerial history,
we live them at another level as part of an organic anc&ct.
Nothing is more reprehensible, Kant protes1S in rbe Criri9w ~lPur<
RMSM, than to '"'elt to derive the laws prescribing what ought to be
done fmm what actually is done. Faas arc one thing, and values
another - which is to say that there is a gap, at once troubling and
essenlial, between bourgeois soaal pracdce and the idcC>Iogy of that
practice. The distincrion between fact and value is here one between
ar:rual bourgeois social relations, and the ideal of a community of free
rational subjects who treat one another as ends in themselves. You
musl 1101 derive volueto from facts, from routine marl<et-pbee
practice, because if you did you woold end up with aU the 1110>t
undesirable tinds ofnluc: egoism, a~ murual m&>gOnism.
Values do nol flow from facts, in the sense that ideologies are
intended not simply to reflect existing social behaviour, but to mystify
and legitimate it. A& such, values arc indeed reb.ted to that behaviour,
but in a disjunctive, contradictory way: the highly oblique affinities
between bo~qeois ideall.sm and c:lpitalln produclion arc cxactly their
most significant interrelation, as the fom1er comes to rarify and
ms..,mble the latter. .B ut if Ibis hiatus is csocnlial, it is also
embarmssing. An ideology too feebly rooted in.the actual will, as w.:
have argued, always be politically \'lllncrable, and Kant's nuwnenal
sphere ls in danger of just tbis implausibilily. If it safeguards ltiQral
dignity from the marlet place, it clots so only by remming it to a place
.., romote as 10 be effectively out of sight. Freedom is so deeply the
es<m<:e of everything that it is nowhere to be empirically found It is
not so much a (Waris in the world as a transcendenw viewjlnint upon
it, a way of tlcscribing one's condition which at once mikes an the
difference and seems to lean everything e~Cacily as it ..u It cannot
directly show iiSelf fonh as it is, and ide()logy is precisely a matter of

82
sensuous representation. Kant is thc:n:fon: in need of a mediatory
zone 'IVhicb will bring this order of pure intelligibi.lity borne to felT
e><pericncc; and this, as we shall see, is one of the meaning> uf lilt'
aesthetic.
The qualities of the Kantian moral law are thnse of the commodity
form. Abstract, uni\'Crsal and rigorously self·idenlical, lhe law of
Reason i.< a mechanL<m which, like the commodiry, effeas formaUy
equal exchanges between isolated indivwual subjects, erasing the
difference of their needs and desires in its homogcnitinl injuncdom.
The K:mti:m community of mor.d subjocts is at Olle level a powerful
critique of actual market-place ethics: in this world, nobody is to be
debased from a person to a rhlng, In Irs general form, however, that
community appears us "'' ideali2ed version of the abstract, serialized
individuals of bourgeois socicry, whose concrete distincdoos are of no
account to the law which governs them. The equivalent of this law in
the discourse of psychoanalysis is the l:rlliiSt:cndcntal signifier of lilt'
phallus. Like lhe phaltic signifier, the moral law subjects indl\'iduals
to its rule, but brings them through that subjection to mature
subjecthood. In Kant's version of a!Tairs, it is a pocu!Wty censorious
Law or Name-of-the-Father, the pure distilled essence of authority:
rather than telling us what tu du, it merely intones 'You must'." Its
august aim is to persuade us to repress our sensual inclinations in the
name of its own higher imperames; the law is what seo;ers us from
Nature and relocates us in the symbolic ordo:r of a oupraacnsiblc
w<>rld, one of pure intelligibilities rather than of sensw>us objects.
The Kantiao subject is accordingly split. one part of it r.maining
forever encangled in the phenomenal order of instinct and desire, the
'id' of the unregenerate ego, while the other ctimhs UJIW!Ird and
inward to higher thini!S. lite lhe Freudian subject, the Kaotian
indnidual irrbabits simultan<ously r..·o contndictmy sphet'CS, in
wloiclt everything which is true of the one is negated in the other.
E•ci')'One may possess the phallus, have access to rational freedom;
)'Ct in :mocber sense nobody does, since this phaUic law of reason does
not r.rist. It is a ftetion, this n1oral law, a hypothesis which we must
construct in order to act as rational creatureS at all, yet an enlil)' of
which the world yields no troce of e\idence. The Kontian mom! law is
a fetish; and as such it is a poor basis for human solidarity, which is
preci!dy its ideological paucity. In order to uni•ersaliu my actions I
must have regard to others, but only ar the abstract level of the

83
understanding, not with any spont>neous sense of their complex
panicular needs. Kant valuts the role o( culiUJ'e In helping to develop
the ccmdltlons for men and women 10 follow lhe moral law; but that
la...- has loo little regard in itself for men and women's concrele
cultural cocistence. There is a need, then, which neith..- polili<:s nur
morality caD fulJil, 10 'promote a unity berween individuals on the
basis of their subjectr.ily';11 and it i< this which the 3tSthetic c;m
prOYid~:. If the aesthetic is a vital register ofbeiug, it is in part because
of the reined, abstract, individualist nature of the moral and political
sphcn:s.

Practical ~ assures us dt:tt freedom is real; pure rea&on can

never lell us whal it is. To explain how pure reason can be pnclical is,
as K2n1 dolefully comments, beyond the power of human reason. All,
howeo;er, is not lost. !'« there is afler aD a way in which Nature and
reason may be harmoniud, since there is a type of contemplation
which panicipaa:s equaUy in the principle of empirical explanation of
Nature ud in tbe principle of moral judgement There is a way of
\-Iewing Nature such thai the app....,nt lav.fulness of its forms might at
lea.<t susses1 the possibilil)' of ends in Nature which act in accordance
with the end.< of human freedom. It is possible tc look at the world M
though it"'""' itself • mysterious son of subject or artefact, governed
like human subj""ts by a self-dctcnninillg rational will In lhe
aesdoetic and ttleological modes of judgement, a.< presented in the
CriliiJII< ofJodlfmt:?tl, th<: empirical world appears in its frc-.:dom,
purposiveness, significant totality and self-rCJ!IIlating autonomy 10
confonn to lhe end. of prnc'lical re:oson.
The pleasure of the aesthetic is in pan the surpriu lhat this is the
case. It is a delightful lucky ~e that cenain phenomena should
seem to display a purposwe unity, where such unity is not in fact
dedudble .u n""essary from logical pKmiKs. The occurrence seems
fonuirous, contingent and so not subsumable under a concept of the
wo<krstanding; but it nevertheless appears as if it -u somehow be
brought under such a concept, os if ir. conforms spontaneously to
some law, eo;en though we are quite unable to uy wlut that law might
be. If doere is no actual law In which we might subsume this
phenomenon, then the law in question seems one inscribed in its very
material form, inseparable fmm its unique particularity, a kind of
contingent or fortuitous lllwfulntss intuitively present to us in the
84
 THE KANTIA."' IMAGISAJIY

lhing but quite wttlu:oritabk. In !.he open~lions of pure n:ason, we

bring a partiallar under a concert of unive.rul law, rhus sl.iding its
specificity beneath the get>eGII; in maners of prnctical reason we
suburdinatc the particular 10 a uni,crsal mllim. In aesthetic
judgement, bawe-.·er, we have the curious sense of • lowful totality
indissociable from Ottr intuition of the immediate form of the lhiog.
Nature appcan animated by an indwelling finaliry "ilicb defeats the
understlnding; and this finolity, in a pleo.•urabk ambiguity, seems at
once a law to whi<:h the object conforms and nothing less than the
irreducible structure of the object Itself.
Since aesthetic judgement does not engage any determinate
•'llnCCpl, we arc quite indifferent lo the nature of the object in
quesbon, or "'·helhe:r it even exiu.~ . But if the object docs not in this
sense invol.., our oognition, i1 oddresses ilself to what we might call
OlD' capacity for cognition in general, revealing to us in a kind of
Heidcgrerian 'pre- undt:r'Stllllding' !hot the world is the kind of place
we can in principle comprehend, lh•t il is adopted 10 our minds even
before any dctennioatc acl of knowing has ye1 taken place. Some of
the pleasure of the O<Sthctic, then, arises from a quick sense of the
world's delightful con£Qrmity to our capacities: ins1ead of pressins
ahead to subsume to some concept the sensuous manifOld we
confront, we ju<1 reap enjoymenl front the general formal possibility
of doing so. The imapnalioo <Tcatcs a purposn·c synthesis, but
without feelin« the need for a theoretical detour. If 1he aeSJhelic
yields us no knowledge, then, it proffers us somed1ing arguably
deeper: !he consciousness, beyond aU thcorctial dcmonstnOon, that
we are a1 home in tile world beca~Ue the world is somehow
myS~eriously designed 10 suit our capacities. Whelher !his is acwally
true or not .,.c cannot say, since we can know nothing ofwbatrealil)' is
like in itselt: That things are conveniently fashioned for oor purposes
musl remain a hypothesis; but il is the kind of heuristic fiction which
pcnniiS us a sense of purposiveness, centtedness and significance,
and thus one which is of the VCJY essence of the ideological.
Aestheric jtldgement is then a kind of pleasurable free-wheeling of
our faculties, a kind of parody of conceptual understanding, a non-
referential pseudo-cognilion which does not nan down the objecl to
an identifiable lhing, and so is agreeably free of a certain material
constraint. It is on undecidable balf-WII'I !wuse between the uniform
laws of the UJJdentanding and some uner chaotic indeterminacy- a

85
l<ind of dre:am or fantasy which display!< its own curious lawfulnes.•,
but ooe of the image rather than the concept. Since the .esthetic
representation is not passed through a determinate thought, we are
able to &a\'0111' its fonn free ·of all h~m~dnmi' 013terial content - as in
reading symbolist I'O"I!y, for eumple, we seem to be in the presence
of the pure eidelic fonns of language itself, pul!ed of any vel')'
detemlinate semantic substance. It is a.~ though in aesthetic
judgetnCnt we are lfOSPinl with out hands some object we cmoot see,
not bec:atJSe we need 10 use it but simply to revel in irs general
grospability, in the way its coove:Dty seans to insinuate itsdf so
pliantly into our palms, deleaably wcU deaigncd aa it appears for ow:
prehemi.le powers.
What we lurve in the aesthetic and 1eleulogical scmdpuints, then, is
the consoUng fanwy of a nwerial world which is perhaps notmcr all
indifferent In us, which has a regard for our cognili>e capacities. As
one of Kant's commentators writes:
It is a great stimulus to moral effort and • scrong support to
the hw:nan spirit if men can beliO\'e that the mor.al Hfe is
something more tlun a mortal e:ruerprise in which he can
join with his feDow nxn against a background of a blind
and Indifferent universe UDlil he and the hwnan race are
bloued out forever. Man cannot be indifferent to the
possibility that his puny efl'OriS towanls monll perfection
may, in spite of appearances, be in accord wllh the purpose
of the universe . . .12·
Parr ofthe trauma of modernity is =ctly this mind-shaking suspicion
that the world is not cnlistable on humanity's side - thai human
vaiiiC$ must resign thtiiiSdves to being poUDded in uothing more
solid man themselves, and perbap< wlfer a panic-stricken in<emal
collapse on occount of this unntn~inr insighL For homanity 10
tlJ)Cricncc an exuberant sense of.ils own unique status is to find itaclf
tragicoUy marooned !Tom any amiably COI11J>Iicit Nature- &om some
answerable eD\ironmcmt which might assure man rbat his purposes
were Y2lld becall5e scaedy part of ilsclf. For • !IOc:ial order to
demo6sh its own mctaphys~l foUDdation is to risk. 'leavin~ its
meaninp and values hanpng in empty space, as gntuitous as any
other sll'UCturc of meaning; and bow then ilft the members of such an
on:lcr to be persuaded of its authority? The urge to coopt reality by

86
 THE KANTIAN IMAGINARY

theoretical violence into one's own projecrmoy !hen pfO\Ie ...n-nigh

irresistible; but it is pon of Kant'> admirable au.terity, testimony to
IUs sober, dear-eyed realism, dtat he ann01 wboUy follow tiUs
mythological pam. Thete i.• simply n<> verificalion in tbe pr<>eedures
of reason for any sucb speculative hypochesis.
Then are, h<N-ever, few gr.aver threats to any ide<llogy than iJs
sense of reality's stony indifference to its own values. Such steady
recalcitralla: on tbe world's pan is bound to throw me limits of an
ideoJosy into harsh relief; and it is on • concealment of such llmilll
that ideologies Rouri.\b, ia their impul<e to eternalize and universalize
thc:msdvc;, tu pRI<:at lh<:nudves as unpvcntcd and ben:ft of all
sibllngo. T be outrage which greeted the fi<tion of Thomas H•rdy in
late nineteeoth-<Xnturr EncJond may be 1meked in the end simply to
Hwy's atheism: to his bard-headed refusal of the consolations of •
collusn-e universe. By contrast, the desolate Tenli)'Siln of I•
MmMitm struggles to wrench an insensate material world back into
illl proper lmagilwy place, as ally and suppon of human tnde•vour.
Kant sternly refuses to coovert the heuristic fiction of a purposive
uni\·erse to ideolop,al mylh; but he c• MOt dispense 'lt'ith tiUs
Imaginal)' dimension altogelher, and it is Ibis which the aeo~thetic
provides. When tbe small infa.nt of Jacques Lacan's cdebnted
'mirror stage' encounters i!S reflection in the gbss, ir linda in this
image a plenitude lacking in i!S ()WI1 body, and thus imputes to itself •
fuUness which in fact pertains to the representation. When the
Kantian subject of taste encounters an object ofbeauty, it disc:oYers in
it a unity and harmony which an in fact the effea of the free play of
its own faculties. In both ases, on imaginaJy misrecognition !likes
place, allhough with • cemin rcverul of subject and object from the
mirror nf Lacan to the o1irror of Kant. The Kaotian subject uf
aesthetic judgement, who misperceives as a quai!Jy of the object what
is in fact a pleasurable coordination of iL< own powers, and who
ooostitut.. in a nwchanistic world a ftgure of 'idcatiu:d utrity,
resembles the infantile norcissist of the Lacanian mirror •tall", whose
misperccptlons Louis Althusser has taught u• to regord u :m
indispusable strucnJre of :all id.!nlogy." In the 'imaJ!nary' of
ideolot!Y, or of aesthetic taste, reality romcs to scom totalized and
pUJpOsivc, rcassuriJllly pliable to the ccn~d subject, even though
theoretical undemanding m:ry more bleakly inform us that this is a
fina.Hty only with rcspet:t to the subject's faculty of cogn.ition. The
87
belluty or sublimity we pertei\'1: in uslhcric judgement is actually no
more a pr<>Peny of the object in question than th• lnws of the
undentsmling are • propr:rty of Natun:; r.ather, in Kmt's view, we
ascribe to the object a felt hannony of our own creative powers, in the
Freudian mechanism known as projection. It is as though we are
constrained to in..n Kant's 'Copernican' priority of subject and
object, assigning 10 the object itself a pawer and plenitude which l.so a
more sober cognition inrorms u:;) belongs properly to ourselves alone.
The sense that the object makes consisiS entirely in the so:rue that It
makes for us. This theoretical insight, however, cannot undo our
imaginary projections, which are JlOt subject to the understanding; as
in the thought of Althusscr, 'theory' and 'ideology' llc on dillerent
planes, signify different registers, and to rluu extent do nor inrerf'ere
wid! one another even when they yield up muttmlly incompatible
versiom of realily.l\ social formation as known to theoretical enquiry
is for Althusser nothing like a human subject, lacks organic unity and
i• in no way 'cenrred' upon individuals; but it cmtl()(· succeed in
reproducing irself unless those individuals are permitted the iUusion
that the world 'bails' them, shows some regard for their faoulties,
addn:"cs ilsclf to tbcm u one subject to another, and It is thJs fiction
whlch ideology fo r Althusser exi~ts to foster. For Kanr, Nature i.~
similarly no~ of an organic subject; but it •'Onfonns to human
undersWiding, and it is only a small step from this to the pleasurable
&nwy (one requhcd for coherent knowledge) that it was lksigM/ for
such understanding too. The •esthetic is thus the won bope, in an
increasingly rationalized, secularized, demythologized environment,
that ultimate purpose and meaning may not be entirely lost. It is the
mode of refigious transcendence of • rationafistic age - the plat<
where those apparcruly arbitrary, subjec!Mst responses whlch fall
outside the scope ofsuch. rnriottalism may now be moYed to the centre
aod granted all the dignity of ao eidetic form. That which is purely
rc>idual to bourgeois rationality, thejt ot ,Qjs qr;oi of caste, now comes
to figure as nothing less tlmn a parodic image of such thought, >
caricanue of rational low. The margins converge to the centre, since
it is on th®: margins that qiWi•ttanscendental intuitions have been
preserved without which that centre cannot prosper. It is as though
the aesthetic represents some residual feeling left OYer ftom an earlier
social order, where a sense of transcendental meaning and harmony,
and of the centrality of the human • object, were sliD octive. Such

88
 THE KANTIAN .IMAGINARY

meuphysic:al propositions CIJUIOt now withstand Ihc: critical force of

bourgeois ration.1~ sm, and so must be preserved in conrentless,
indcrerminan: form, a$ slrUCiun:s of feeling ralher lhao sysrems of
doctrine. Unity, purpo~ and symmeuy sli.ll exist, but !hey must now
be thntst d""p into the inwardness of the subject itself, rem-d from
the pbenomclllll wortd. Tbis is not to concede, however, that they can
ho..., no influence on our conduct in !hot reolm. For to entemin me
h)'!X'mesis that realicy is not altogether indifferent to our own moral
capacities may quicken ond renew our moral consciousness, ond so
lrad llS to a finer f<>rm u( ~fc. Bc:auty is in this sense an aid to virtue,
appearing as it does to rally suppon for our moral rndea•-oors from
the unlikely resou= of No tore itself.
We should not, however, rejoice too soon in this apptuent
comptidty of the uni\1:rse with our purpo<e:s. For all this, in me
K.antian aesthetic, happens as though by some felicitous accident. !tis
fonunatc lhat the worW's diversity should seem so obediently
commensurate with the mind's powers; so that in the very act of
revelling in this apparent prearranged harmony, in this well-nigh
mlnculous doublinJ of the structw'c of NaNrc and the structure of
the subject, we are ot me same time wryly conscious of its serendipity.
Only in the aesthetic arc we able to Nrn round upon oum:Nes,
stand a little 3pan from our own von~:~ge-polnt and begin to grasp
the r<latirm of our capacities to reality, in • moment of wondering self·
..tnngement on which the Russian Formalists will later found an
entire poetics. In the routinized, outomated processes of under·
st.amling, >-ucb wonder dat.-s nut occor; in the ocstbctic, by contrast,
our faculties ore suddenly fo11:grounded in ways which draw attention
to their fittingness. But this is also to draw attention tu their
timicltions. To be aD0\\1:d a rare experience o1·our own peculiu point
ofview is, after .U, to sense thot itis only our point ofview, and ~OM
that ..Uglu conceivably be transcended. In the pRSence ofbeaucy,""
expcri<:nce an exquisite sense of adapt2tion of the mind to reality; but
in the turbulent presence of the sublime we ore forcibly reminded of
the ~1$ of our dw:1r6sh imaginations and admonished that the
world as intiniw totalily is not o~m to know. It is u though in the
sublime the 'rul' itself- the eternal, uograspable totalliy of things-
inscribes itself as the cauti<lnary ~mit of aU mere ideology, of aD
complac:cnt subjc:ct-centredn«s, ~using us to feel the pain of
Incompletion and unassuoged desire.

89
 Botb ofmesc opcnrions, me beautiful and me sublime, ore in fact
es.<enti:>l dimensions or ideology. For one problem of .U humanist
ideology is how its centring and consoHng of the subject is to be made
compatible with a cenain essential reverence fnd submissiveness on
the •·ubjec-t's part. In making the world over 10 the subject·, suclt
humanism risks undermining the censorious Other which will hold
bUIILlllity humbly in irs place. The sublime in one of irs aspects is
exactly this cbaSiening, humiliating power, wlrich det..,ntres the
subject inro an •wesome awareness of its finirude, its own pell)'
position in me u niverse, just as the experience of beauty shores it up.
Morcov.:r, what would be threatened by a ,pun:ly 'imaginary' idcol"')'
would be the subject's desi.re 35 well .. its humility. The Kantian
sublime is in effect a kind of uncons<;ious process of infinilc desire,
which like the Freudian unconscious continually risls S\\'lUDJling and
overloading the pitiable ego with an excess of affects. The subject of
the sublime is acrordingly decmtred, plunged into loss and pain,
undergoes a crisis aDd radinl! or idenlity; yet without this unwelcome
<iolence we would n~:~~er be srirred out of ourselves, never prodded
inro enterprise and achievement. We would lapse bact instead into
me placid feminine enclosure of lhe imaginary, where desire is
cap~ivared and suspended. Kant associates the sublime with the
m"""ulinc and the miliuuy, Wi<ful antid.ote> agai.ui;l a pcaco whidt
breeds cowardice and effeminacy. Ideology mwn not so thoroughly
centre the subject as 10 C'IStr:tte iiS desire; instead we must be both
cajoled and ch:utized. made to feel both barnckss and at ho111c,
foldrd upon the world yet reminded mat our true resJing place is in
infinity. It is pan· of th.e dialectic of the beautiful am! the sublime to
achieve this double ideological effect. It is now almost a commonplace
of deconstructi<e rhought tn see the subtimt ""' a point offracture and
fading, ao abyssal underminillg of melllphysi!'lll certinldes; bur while
there is much of value and inlcrest in lhls \iew, it bas sei'Ted in effect
to suppress just I hose modes in which the sublime also npera1es as a
thoruuply ideological ategory.
'file psychoan.alytlc register or the lma!Jlnary im'Oives a peeulLtrly
intimale rebtion of the infant to ~ mother's body; and it is po!<6lole
to catch a glimpse of litis body, suitably screwed, in Kant's aesthetic
representation. What tlsc, psycboanal)1lcally speaking, is this beautiful
object which is unique yet univer<2l, wholly designed for the subjec1
and addrcucd lu its faculties, wbich in Kant's inlcrcsting phrase
 THE KAifiUN IMAGIN.'J\Y

'relieves a want' and brings us a keenly pkasunble sense of repletion,

which is miraculously :stlf-identical and which, though sensuously
pllfticular, C\'okcs absolutely oo libidinal impulse from the subject
itulf? The beautiful reprcstnl21ion,like the body of the mother, i< an
idealiud marerial forrn safely defused of sensuality and desire, wim
which, In a free play of Its facullics, lite subject can happily sport. The
bliss of1M aesmeri£ suhjecr is rhe felicity of the sll1211 child playing in
the bosom of me mother, enmrallcd by on uuerly indivisible objec~
wbich is ar once indmatc and lndcrcrmin&rc, brimmlnJ with
purposi\'e life yer plasric enough ro put ur no resistance ro rhe
subjccr's own ends.
The subject can lind resr in this cloisttal securiry, but its resr is
strictly temporary. For it is tnvelling to that higher location where it
will find irs ttue home, the pballic law of abstractlflSOn whicil quite
transcends the srnsible. T o anain full moral starure we must he
wrenched from rhe marernal p k•sures of Niture and e><perience in
the majesty of the sublime the sense of ao infinite totality to wbich our
feeble ima!inatioos will never he equal." Yet in the ""'Y moment of
being thus subdued, sharply rccallcd tu our rruc 6nirude, ""' lurow a
new kind of exultant power. When the imagirwioa is forced up
tnumaticaUy aguinst its own limits, it finds itself straining beyond
them in a mow:meru of negative mnscendeoce; and the giddy feeling
of unbowrdeduess v.hich rhen results )idds us a ~., prr;sentalion of
rhe infinity of moral Reaooo. In the sublime, morality and feeling for
ance come together, but In 11eprlve sryle: whar we feel Is how
imme:asunbly Rea.w n tran.'!AOends the senses, and thus boo; radically
'unatSthctic' our lruc freedom, dignity and autonomy an:. Morality is
' aestbedc!zcd' in the sublime as feeling, but as a feeling wlllcb; since
ir denigrates the sensory, is also ' nnti-aesrhetic'. Hurled beyond our
own sensuous limiu, we crasp some dim ootioo of the suprasenso<y,
which is nothing less than rbe Ltw ofReosnn inscnl>ed within us. The
pain ""' exp<rience under the weight of the paternal law is thus sh01
through with a sense of cxalt2tion above an merely conditioned being:
we lurow that rh.e sublime presrntarion is simply an echo of rhc
sublimity of Reason within """"'lves, and thus 1<$limony tu our
absolute freedom. In this =• the sublime is a kind of anti-•esthetic
which presses the lmaginalion ro extreme crisi.<, w rhc point of failure
and breakdown, in ord<r thst it rosy negarively figure forth the
Reason that rnnscends ir. 1\t the very moment this immensity of
91
 R...on Jhreatens to overpower us, we ore aware of its inscrutable
imprint within ou~tvcs. If !here Is fuuiJy no reason to fear the
pt~nilive phallic law of the father, it. is hecouse each of us carries
the phaUus securely IO<.IJI'd wilhin ourselves. The subjoct uf the
imaginary, who Imputes a fctishls1ic power to tile object, mUJt so to
speak coote to its senses, undo this projection and recognize thai this
power resides in it rntber than in the object. It thus exchanges the
fetish of the mother's body for the fetish of the piWlic law, trading
ooc abrolllle self- identity for aoother; but its reward for thus
submitting tu the pains ofcasttation will be a kind of reconstitution of
the imaginary at a higher level, as it comes to percein that the infinity
it fears in the sublime representation is in fxt an infu'lite powe·r within
itself. This dauntins to!Riity is nut ours to.r.w,.,
and to this extent the
reverence and humility of !he subject arc pn:sen-ed; but iJ is ours to
foe/, and to that degree the subject's autonomy is gratifyingly
confirmed.
There is a difficult 1cnsion wilhin bou~ois sociel)' bciW<en lhe
ideology of productioo and the idet~logy of consumption. Since the
former realm is generally unpleasant, SlliCtions and disciplines are
required for lhe subject to buckle itscu· to Its rasl:s. There Is no
suggestion that this world of production ensiS for the subject; but
things arc dilfcrenl ill the ax<'lll of cun>"Wilplioa, where lhe
commodity 'halls" the individual and impUcs • spccil1 relatioruhlp
with him. 'l( t.be soul of the commodity which Marx occasionally
mentions in jes1 existed,' writes Wolter Benjamin, 'it would be !he
most empathetic ever encountered In lhe realm of souls, for it would
ha,·e to see in everyone the buyer in whose hand and hou.>te it wan IS to
ou:sde.'" l.ike Kant's aeslhetic objecc. the commodil)' would seem
desiJIIed especially for oar faculties, addressed to us in iJs very bciniJ.
Viewed from the st2ndpoinl of con~umplion, the world is uniquely
ours, shaped to neslk in our palms; scon from the st811dpoillt of
production ir appears, lil:e Kanlian Norure, as an impersonal domOlin
of caus:~l ptOCCSS6 and autonomous laws. Capilali.sm continua!1Y
centres the •ubject in the sphere of values. only to dt'Centre it in the
realm of tbinp. One can tnce somelhing of this movement in the
dialectic of the beautiful and the sublime. If things-in-themselves are
beyond the re:och of the subject, the beautiful will rectify this
alienation by presenting reality, for a precious moment. as Jiven
spontaneo\ISly for that subject's powers. U this !hen scctnS likely to

92
 THE KANTlA.'I lMACINAJtY

breed complacency, the sublime is alwayo on hand ,.;th its

intimidatory power, but the dan¥"rously demoralizing effe<'IS of such
power arc in turD tempered b\1 the S\lbjca's joyful consciousness that
the JMIWer in qutstion is that of its own majestic Reason.

Acsthc:lic judgements, Kant argues in the Criliqru of]udfpnmr, are at

once subjective and universal . They thu.• figure as th• joker in the
pack ofbis theoretical system, since it is hard to sec on Kant's rerms
how the phrase 'aesthetic judgement' can be other than oxymoronic-
how somelloi.ng can be at once a judgement, which invokoes
subsuming poniculars to a Jaw of the undemanding, and }'tt no more
than a feeling. The grammatic•! form of aesthetic judgtments, Kant
ct.ims, is in fact deceptive and duplicitous. In such statements as 'I
am beautiful', 'You are sublime', the adjectives would appear to be
predicative, hut this is reaDy an musion: such propositions have the
form, but not the real force, of referential utterances. To daim mat
yoo are sublime is not for me to identifY some property In you but to
report on some feeling in myself. J udgements of taste appetr to be
descriptions of the world but are in fact conecaled cmotiV( utterances,
perform•tives masquerading as constatives. The gramlll2ricalitr of
such emmciations is at odds with their true logical status. It would,
bowa-er, be quite impermissable to decode the pseudo-proposition 'x
is beautiful' as 'I tiko x', since judgements oft3Sie ore for Kant purely
disinlemted snd have nothing w do "ilh one's con .nt indiDadons
or desires. Such judgemenu are ceruinly subjective; but they are so
Jturt/y subjective, so e>pns.sive of the very essence of the subject,
untainted by idiosyncratic prejudice aad 'devoid of every possible
condition which would necessarily distinguish the Judge from other
peoplc', 16 that it is possible to spevk of ~ttnl also as universal. If the
subject transcends its ephemeral needs md desires, thCil a trUly
subjective judgement disregards all the :u:cidents which di,ide one
individual fn)m another and strikes an immediate chord in thon uU.
Aesthetic judgemt.:nb arc l.hus. as it were, 'impersonally ~rSonal', 11 a
kind of subjectivity without a subject or, as Kant has it, a 'universal
subjectivity'. T o judge aeslhetitaUy is lmpllcidy to declar< that a
wholly subjectNe response is of the ki.nrl that every individual must
necessarily experience, one thar must elicit spontaneous aJI'ctrnent
from them all.
The a<-sthctic, one might argue, is in this SttlSc the very pandigtn
93
of lhe ideological. For the pecutiarity of ideokJ&ical propositions
mlght be sullllllaTittd by claiming, with some exaggeration, that there
is io fact no such thlng as an ideological proposition. Like oesthetic
judgements for Kmt, ideological uttennces conceal an essentially
emotive content uithin a rcferentbl furm, characterizing the lived
relation of a speaker to the w.>rld in tl>e oct of appearing to
cbaraacmc the world. This is not to sugg~:St that ideological
discourses do not i.n fact contain referential proJ'K)SidaM which may
be assessed as either tru< or fal>c, simply thot this i> nut what is most
specific about lhe ideologicoi. Ideology does indeed importantly
contain many foise propositions, such as lhe claim that Asians are
inferior to Europe<~ns or tbar the Queen of England is highly
intelligent; but the fmity of such claims is not '~>hat is peculiarly
ideological about tbem, since not all false propositions are ideological
and not aU idcoiogie<~l swemcnts are false. What makes such false
claims ideological is the motivatum of their falsity; the fact !hat they
encode emotive attitudes relevant to the reproduction of social power.
The same is rrue of the many ideological unennces which happen to
be true, >'Uch as the claim !hat the Qu~n of England tales her job
seriously and is devoted to her work. ldeology cannot tnionarily be
characterized in terms of fabe -cmcnts, not, as som<: have held,
because it does fl(lt conr.in more !ftan its fm share of them, bur.
bee. use it is not at root • question of ptopositionality at all. lt is a
mancr of "'isl>ing, cursing, fearing, rcverencinr, desiring, dcnigratinJ
and so on - tmfo,.liut discourse, which like Kant's aesthetic
judgements does not rest upon conceptual ca~ries of truth or
falsehood, even if it slgni6candy im'olves them. The statement vfhe
lrisb are inferior to the Brilish' is a pseudn-referenlilll encodement of
the impcrativt: 'Down ,.ith the Irish!' This is one reason why it is
notoriously difficult to orgue wilb.
The aesthetic in Kmt.shon-cir<uits the concepmalto link concrete
partioulart in their very immediacy to • kind of univernd law, but •
1...· ~AiliJ:h can be in no seiiSC formulated. In the aesthetic, in contrast
to the domain< ()( pure and practical reason, the individ.W is not
abstracted to the universal but is somehow (llised to the uni•er.;al in
its very penicubriey, manifcsdnl it sponwtcously on its surface. 'In
the phenomenon of the beautiful the incooceioable thing happens,
that in contemplating beauty cvay subjo:t remains in itself and is
punly immersed in its OWII state, willie ar the same time il is absolved
of aD conti~nt particularity and haws itself to be the bearer of a
total feeling which no longer belongs 10 "this• or "that".' 11 The
ideological viewpoint, some\\ohat similarly, is at once wholly my own
and an utterly subjcctless truth - at once constitutive of me very
dcplhs of die Stlbject, who will from lime to lime light and die for it,
nnd u sort of univers:ol low, though one which seems so self-eridendy
inscribed in the very material phenomena thmuelves as to be quite
untheorizllble. In idt<llogy and the aesdtctiJ: we suy with the thing
itself, which is presetved in all of its concrete materiality rather than
dissolved to its abstract conditions; yet this very matcrialiry, this
uniquely unrepeatabk form or body, comes mysteriously to assume
all lhe compelling logic of a global decree. The ideologicu-ocsthctic is
that Indctermln:rtc region, smndcd somC\\iu:n: betwc:en me empirical
and. tbeoretieul, in which ahstl"liCiions seem Rushed with irreducible
spc'Cilicity and ICcidenllll particulars nised to pseudo-cognitive
sutus. The loose COIItingcaclcs of subjective experience are imbued
with the binding force of law, but a law which can ne\-er be hown in
abstractioo from them. Ideology corutantly ufftn to go be-yond the
c<Jncrete to some debatable prql()Silion, but that.propositioo constandy
eludes formulation and disappears bacl into the things themsek·es.ln
this peculiar condition of being, the individual sub~a becomes lbt
bearer of a universal, lneluctahle sttucture \\'hkh lmpr=es i~Self
upon it as the very eSKnce ofits idenuty. What is &om one slliJldpuint
an absohnc impersonal righmcss is from another srandpolnt just
something one hawens to feel; but that 'happens' is oomehow
unavoidable. Ideology is on me one hand an 'everybody knows', I
ragbag of urnislled adages; but Ibis reach-me-down assemblqe or
rngs and clich~s is forceful enough to imp<! the subject to murder
or manyrdom, so deeply doe.s it enga~ the roots of • unique
identity.
Just as it is illicit in Ka1n's view to decode the sllltement 'r is
beautiful' as 'I Ulc x', so irwould be clearly inadequate to translate the
p~sition 'The Irish ue inferior to the British' as 'I don't like the
Irish'. If ideology were merely a qU<stion of such incidental
prejudices, then it would no doubt be somewhat OGier to uproot than
it is. The rhetnrical move which coavens an emot!Ye ultcrance to the
grammatical fonn of the referential is an index of the fact that ceruin
artirudes are or 011ce 'mcrely subjective' and somehow necessary. In
this sense, surprisinz!y enough, Kandan a..ahetics mo•·e us a little
95
 t.,.,·ards a materiatist understanding of ideology. They define a
\113)'
third realm, between those propositions of th..:ntiad reason whidl
do not necessarily CflPI'C subjectivity at all ('two plus two equals
four'), and men: whimsical predilcaioas. GMn the NI!W'e of our
immutable fa<'U!ti(>s, Kant hol<ls, it is o~ that....,rtain'sub;ect;.e
judgemenu elicit the universal consent of others, since these
judgements arise from the sheer f011D41 workings of capacitie< we
have in common. Given certllin material conditions, one misht
similarly claim, it Is necess21)' that certain subjective response< be
invested with ail the force of universally binding propositions, and this
is lhc •-pbcr~: of the idcolosical.
In the busin<&.< or •eothetlc judgement, the nature 0t ""en
existence of the refe~nt is :11 rnatter of indifference, just as ideolO¥)' is
not primarily a question of thc troth of ccrtain dctenninatc
propositions. The real object makes its appcM2Dcc in the aesthetic
simply as an O(Xasion for the pleasurable harmonization of our
&cui ties. 'l'bc universal quality of taste cannot spring from the object,
which is purely contingent, or from any particular desire or interest of
the subj<!c't, whicb arc similiuly parochial; so it must be a matter of the
\'CI)' cognitive strUCtUJ<: of the subject itself, which is pre.umed to be
invariable 41110ng .n Individuals. P.ut of what we enjoy in the
is
aesthetic, dten, the knowledge that our VCI)' stn.ctural constitution
as biiDWl subjeCIS predisposes us to mutuallwmony. It is as thousll,
prior to :my •ierenn.inale dialogue or debate, we are al\ln.ys alre:'ldy in
agr<'t:mcnt,/ashiOJid to concur;.and the aesthetic is this experience of
pure eontendess consensus where we find OW'Selves spomaneowly 11
one without necessarily even knowing what, ref~ntiaDy speaking, we
arc agreeing over. Once any dc~cnninatc concept is removed from
our JliliSP, we are left delighting in nothing but a universal sotidarity
beyund all vulgar utility. Such solidarity is a kind of sensus""""""";,,
whidt Kant opposes in his work to that fra,;rncnlaly, unreflective
c:oUeaion of prejudices and opinions which is d= or common sense.
Such d8x• is what Kant himself, had he used the word, might h:IVe
termed 'ideology'; but smsus """"""'"is ideoiOCY purified, um"er.;aliud
and rend<red rclleerlve, Lkology raised 10 the second power,
ideali""d beyond aU mere sectarian prejudice or customary reflex to
resemble the VCI)' Jlhosdy slape of nrionallty itself. To cst~blish itself
:IS • truly univers:tl cl:rss, the bourgeoisie will need "' do more than
trade in a handful of tattered DUIXims: its governing ideology must
 TH'F. KA.NTtAN IM.\GIN.UY

m>nifest :rt once the univerul lilnn of the rational and the •podictic
content of the alfecli\;ely innnediate.
What aesthetic judgement signifies for Kant is essentially a fumt of
altruisr.n. In responding to an artefact, or to notural beauty,! piaC<: ~­
own contingent aversions and appetenL;es in brackets, putting m)~lf
insteod In everyone else's place and thus judging from the standpoim
of a universal subjectivity. .'t porrnit of cltee« is not beautiful
because I happen to enjoy eating the stuff. ln this sense, the Kaminn
aesdretic challenges and confirms class-socU,ty at a stroke. On the
one hand, its Olympian disinterestedne.'s is at odds wirh what Kant
calls 'trUculent egoism' , the routine selfish intcrc.ts of social life.
Aesthetic intersubjectivity adumbrares 3 IJU)pian community ol'
subjects, united in the very deep structure oflheir being. The c1Jitur.ol
donWn is in this sense for Kant distinct from the political. where
individuals are bound together in purely extemol fa.Vtion for the
lnsrrumc:nllll pursuit of ends. Suclt merely e>minsic soHdariry involves
the ultimate b:ack-up ofcoercion: social life would ullimately coUapsc,
Kant bolds, if public standards were not violently enforceable. The
cultural domain, by contr:Lit, is one of non-coercive consensus; it is of
the essence of ae.sthetic judgements that they cam101 be compelled.
' Culture' thus promotes an inward, unconstrained unity between
citizens on the basis of their most intinute subjectivily. In this ethico·
aesthetic ~ipherc, 'no member shaD be a mere meanst but should 11lso
be •n end, and scclng th:u he contributes to the possibility of the
entire body, should hove be~ position and function defined by the idea
of the whole'. •• Potitics is restricted to pubtic, utilitarian behaviour,
nurt.ed off from that ' inner, personal interrelation between subjcc~
as rational and feeling beings' which is the aesthetic.20 If culture lhus
sketches the ghostly outline of a non-dominative social order, it does
so by mystifying and legitintating actual dominative social relation"'
The division between the phenomenal and the noumenal is, so to
speak, politicized, installed as an essential 6..urc within social life
Itself. Kant's highly forrtllllc•tic ethi<S prove incapoble of grnernting
any distiucrive political theory of their own beyond • convcnti<>nal
liberalism; •nd though such ethics proffeT the dream of • community
where subjects are ends in thentselve., they are fill:llly too :>J,;tract to
bring this ideal home to felt tl<J>Cricnoc. It is this which the atiothctic:
is uniquely abk ro provide; but in doing so It reproduces something of
the vei'J' social logic it is out to resist. Kant's selfless .,.,thcric judge,

97
obsolvcd from aD sensual motivation, is among other things a
spiritualized version of !he abstract, serialized subjtct of lhe
market pbt1:, who t'llncds the concrete differences between himself
and others as thorooghly as does !he le>·elling, homogenizing
t'Onunodity. In mauers of t:lSte, as of commodity tnu.sactions, all
individuals are iodifferendy exclw!gcablc; and culrure is thus pan of
the problem to which it offers itself as a solution.

The critical philosophy, and lhe concqx of ideology, are born at the
sarM hl<torical moment, as Michel Foucault no1es in Tlu Order tJj'
Tloittgs." But whereos, as Fou<.'ault arguo., the S<:iaJ<;c of ideuw!IY in
the bands of its founder, Dcsrutt de Tracy, rests content with the
bw;iness of repre«ntarion~;, pariendy examining the i•ws utlich
organize them, the Kantian t'ritique presses beyond this purely
phenomenal space (idcoiOfi.Y, Tracy remarks, is 'a parr of zoology1ro
enquire into the •ery lr.UlSeendental conditions of such J't1ll't>"Diation,
its obj~t now nodling less dun represenubility iuelf. What will !hen
emerge is the ambivalently in.<piring and alarming truth that all that is
most precious falls outside the representational sphere. If this
preserves what is most V2luable from succumbing to the detcrmlned
starus of apples and armcltalrs, it 31so threatens to strike vacuous the
v~ essence of the hwnan subj..:t. If freedom is finally unrepresent-
able, how is ilto exen ils ideologiw force, sm:n that ideoloi!Y is itself
a quer.rioo of reprtsentarioo? :\ way must consequently be found of
imagining sut'h liberty non-rcductivdy in the empirical World, and
this is one function of the Kandan aesthetic. The aestbeW: is !he
ren..:rion in the lower world of the highcr,the place where thotwhich
finally outstrips representation altogether, as the sublime reminds uS;
manages nevenhelcss to achieve some sensuous · embodiment or
analogy. Humanity would see a sign; and the beautiful and tht
sublime cotm:niendy supply iL
We have seen that the acslhctic in Kant fullils a multitude of
functi<lns. It celltres the hWD3n subject in an imaginary relation to a
pliable, purposive reality, thereby gnmting it a delightful sestse of its
own inlier coherence and coolirmingits statuS as an'ethicalagenL Yet
it docs this without ceasing to discipline and chastise the subject,
recalling it to a piously subutissive aw:1reness of the infinity where it
rruly belongs. It ensures between human subjccu a spontaneous,
immediate, non-coercive consensus, providing the atTecti\'c bonds

98
 Til& K.\NTIAN IMAGINARY

which tra•·erse the al.ienations of sCJCial ~fc;:. It brings individuals home

lo uch other as imm<dlate C%JM'rience, in a diw.um: nf concret<
panicularity which has an th< irrefrJ!fJble fomt of. r.ttiunallaw bur
noDC of it> rebarbative abstraction. It alloW$ specific and universal
mysteriowly to coalesce, wilhout need of concepruol rnediotion, and
thus inso:ribes a global impel'lltive on the body of dte sem.llOusly given
in the manner of an heS"monic raliter than a tyrannical aulitority.
Filially, it offers 3n irn31le of sheer self-delennioing auloll()my, in
which Narun, the conditioned and determined, is subtly alchemizcd
inro purposive freedom, and iron necessity miraculously ~appears o.<
aboolute self-govermnent. h thus oJTers on ideological paradigm for
both individual subject and :;ocial order - for lite aesthetic
repcsentation is: a SIJdtty, in which each consriluenr component is the
condition of the purposive existence of e•·ety ulher, and finds in lhar
feliciloUJ totalil)' the groWJd of its own identitY-
In the light of this litemy, it is dillicult not lo feel lhat many
traditional debares about lite relations between lbe aesthetic and lbe
ideological - as rellection, production, rnnsc<ndence, estrangement
and so on- .have been somewhat superfluous. From one viewpoint,
the aesthetic is lbe ideological. Botto claim that lite reconciliation of
freedom and necessity, self and others, spirir and Nature ties In the
ustheric is lantarnouor ro confessing, gloom~y enough, lhar it is
hanlly anywhore to be foun~. This triumphant n:solution of social
contradiction.• derend• on an acti\iry for which, as K•rl Marx wryly
commented, the middle class lllls l'Xceedingly little time. 'What
rnanas is less art tlun aatl:trit:r, indeed when Theodor Adorno
rem3rked in 1970 that ' Aesthetics loday is powerless to avert its
beccming a necrologuc of an.'" it is only that 'today' lhat one mlgbt
query. A double dlspbcement occurs in the Enlightenmenr, from
cultural production as Sllch to a particular ideology of the artefact,
and from that to ideoiOI)' in genenl. For it is clear lhat what the
ruling order rtquires is nothing as anaemically inteUectualisl a.~
Destun de Tracy's 'science ()f ideas', but • theory of ideological
practice - a formalization of lbat whicb in its spontaDoo"" immedilM:y
would seem to C\'ade the concept. If the ideological is primarily a
queSiion of feeting. then the aeslhetic can model it a good de:~l more
effectively than zoology. If formalizing the non-dimusi"" would
seem a peculiarly sdf·defeating projecl - if th- is an oxytnoronic
ring to lite •·e.y phrase 'llteory of ideology' - then the moo.<
99
appropriate sign of this imp<>S>ibility i:i die mysteriousness ofan iucll;
which is and is not a rule-governed re3lm.
There is no reason ro suppose, howe..,r, that 'idoology' net'd alwa)~
be a pcjorativt- term, md thai the acsabetic SW>ds unequ.ivocally on lhc
side of sociAl oppression. Ag:ainsl a social philosophy founded upon
egoism :md appetite, Kant speaks up for a generous vision of a
community of ends, finding in lhc freedom md autonomy of the
aesthetic a p rotOI}'J)e ofhW1Wl possibility equally at odds with feudal
absolutism and possessive individualism. If there is no wwy in which
this adminble ideal of murual respect, equality and compassion can
enter upoo mater!:>! reality, if it is necessary to rehear.;e in the mind
wflat ~11MOI be enacted in the world, this is hardly lhc r.-sponsibility
of Kant himself.
It is within this bold vision that Man<'s immanent critique will find
a foothold, enquiring how it comes about that such dreams of
freedom and moral dignity succeed in reproducing the conditions of
violence and exploitation. 'In art, like everywhere else,' writes Adorno
of idealist aesthetics, 'nothing deserved respect unless it owed its
existence to the autonomous subjoct. What was •'lllid and true about
this for die subject· W3S inwlid and untrue for the non-subjective
other: freedom for the former was unfrecdom for the latter.'" Kant's
own desperate solution to this dllemma was to sptit the subject down
the middle, seaeting its liberty at stJch an unsearchable depth dlat it
becomes at on<:e imiolabl<: and ineffecrual. Such a ndical division of
acrual aNI ideal, however, will prove a con<tllnt source ofideological
embarraSSOJ<:nt; and it. viU be left to Hegel to dnow the twu rcahm
together by the discourse of dialectics.

l Fredric Jamuon, TN PolitiaJI u,_.n..w, Na~ OS • SacU1J}y

S>•"""'lir An (llhaca and Loodon, 1981), p. 251 . ·
Z Sec Jacques Derrid1, 'Ecouotnimesis', Di4mtia II :2 (1981). It is fair tn
add that Kant would no doubt luve !bought this need 10 tigwe lhc non-
phe-nomenal in pllenommal lema cnlirdy inc>itablc.
3 5,.., G~:U~g Lulcics, Histtwy Mil ClosJ ~J (London, 1971),
pp.IH-H.SeeokoU.cienGoldmann, /-diWr<(I.-Jun, 1971).
• I..W:aa, Hil<4<] anJ CIJw Co.saiJw nm, p. 121.
[()()
 THE KAJo.'TIA.'\,i l~iAGINA RY

S See Walter Benjamin, Cluulo &w-Jdni,<: A Lyric P(}IJ in tltL Em ofHtl,lt

~to/ism (London, 1973), p. S5.
6 Sec Omic; Taylor, 'K2nt'• Theory offmdom', in Phi!Mophy - t tht
n.,... Sdnctts, ..,). 2 (Cambridge, 1985).
7 Karl Matx, Tht People~ l'aptr (19 April I 856). For"" account of ~nl's
own polidc.t 'i""'.• sec lioward Williams. Kant's r.Uti«JJ l'hilos'fJhy
(Oxford, 1983).
8 S.c Alasdair .Maclncyre, A Stwn Hilt"'! cfl!Jhio (London, 1967), 111\d
Afrrr Virtru (l•>ndnn,l981).
9 Sec Ems1 Cassin:r, Ka01'1 Lift ond T/uR;ghr (New Haven and London,
1981), pp. 2-lfi- 7.
10 Sigmunll Freud t:tlmmeml$ in 'The Ecunomic Probltm of Maw<:hism'
that Kant's categorical imperative lj,s • •• 01 direcl inheritance from the
Ocdipu.< complex' (SwnJ.oro/ I:'Jiricn ofrht O.mJJttt l'tydtolorj«Jl Wor.b of
SigmonJ FmJ, cd. J. Sttacbey (London, 1955-74), ""'·XIX, p. 169.
11 S>llm Kemal, fVw - t Fw An (o.!Ord, 1986), p. 76.
12 H.). Patoo. The O.f<X'>riul Jmp<rariot (Loodoo, 1947), p. 256.
13 S.e Jocqu.. Lacan, •J'he Mirror Sug.'. in f:mu: A Srlttti•• (London,
1977), and I..<IU.t . Ahhu""''• 'hk<Jiotcy and ldwlot!i<al State ~',
in U.io ,.,.{ Plti/m~hJ (London, 1971).
l .f For u.~ful accouru of the suhlinu; see Thoma.~ Weid.t.l, 1"114 Rortta~~JK
Sllblim< (Doltimon: and Loodoo, 1976), Part Z, 011d GiBes Ode=:,
l<lw't CritiaJ Philmoplry (Minnupoli<, 198~) . pp. 50-2. Other <llldie.<
or Kan~s ..w.ctics arc Donald W. Crawford, K..r's Atsthttit Tlwry
(Madisoo, 197+); F. Coloman, Tlct llat11f1NrJ of Rusoa (Pitt<burgb,
1971); Paul Guyer, Kant aoJ r.lu CW"" qf T4Sit (c.n.bridge, Mus.,
1979); E.. Schaper, Stttdlts io KAm ~ Atsthttltl (Edinburgh, 1979); 111\d
P. van 0.: Pille, KaN os Philosopltical AmbropofatiJt (The IUrut, 1971).
Two hostile accounts of Kanri:m aesthetics are D. S. Miall, 'K.anfs
Critique (l(Ju~emen t: A Bio:o:d .~...O.ctic', BriliJ!r JDWNI t(AeultttUJ,
¥01. 20, no. 2 (1980), and Karl 1\meriks, 'Kant and lhc Obicc:tMtJ of
Ta.ue', DririsA ]o..m.J qfAatktics, vol. Z3, no. I (1983).
15 Benjamin, Clt4rla &u.JtWre., p. 55.
16 Ted Cohen aDd l'aul Guyer, Introduction 10 Cohen a11d Guyer (eels),
W'91 io /(AM) Aeu~m" (Chktgo, I !182), p. 12.
17 Ibid.
18 Cassi.-.r,IWrtHifo ""' 11um&ftt p. 318.
19 Kant, Crili4uc 11/J~ (Oxford, 1952), Part 1., p. Z3n.
20 K.emal, Kar allll Fuu Arl p. 76.
21 Mlcbcl l'oucault, 1M O'*r II[Titi"f} (New Vorlc, 1973), chapter 7.
22 Th<odor Adorno, Atstlutit Thtol] (London, 1984), p. S.
Z3 Ibid•.• p. 'fl.

IOJ
 4

Schiller and Hegemony

Kant's rigorous duality nf cogniti<m and aesthetic judgement contains

the seeds or its own deconstruction. ~ some o( his successors were
not slow.· to recognize. For if the aesthetic denotes the reference of ao
object. to a subjec~ then it mus~ as Kant acknowledges, he present as
a moment of :all our knowledge. It is a necessary 541pposition of :all our
investigation of Nature that Narun: is struetured for, or 'sb.,..., some
regard for'. our cognitive faculties. IUnr•s tCopemician r~'•oludon, in
thought centres the world upon the human subject, and by doing so
lends itself inherently to tbc aesthetic, making that whole rtgistcr of
experience seetn less n,.rgiJ>al, gratuioous or supp!J!menrary th.,.. it
might otherwise appear. The hannony of faculties which is aesthetic
pl ea.~ure is in fact a harmony requisite for evtlj· empirical cognition;
so that if the aesthetic: is in a sense 'supplementary' to our odu<r
activities of mind, it is a supplement which turns out by some
Derridcon logic to be more like their foundation or precondition. As
Gilles De)eU2e argues, 'A focuhy would never take on a legi.sla6ve
and detennining role were oot :all the faculties together apable of dUs
free subjective hannony [of tbe ae.sthedc)."
The mot of all knowledge for Kant, a.• John MacMurray has
pointed out.• is the productive imagination; and this means to say that
Ka.ndao knowledge is always in some sense fictiooal.' This incipient
aestheticization of cognition, however, must he strictly curbed. lest
rationality roUap,., iura Romantic exo:ess; and for Kant to claim that
the aesthetic does not involve dettnninao: concepts is thus as much to
safeguard rationality from this unsettling parody of itself as to account
for its p<•'lliiar mode of working. The dan~er is that of identifying
 SCHILUI AND lfEG£MONV

!ruth "ith. what is salisf)ing to the mind, as tht danger in the domain
of ethic.• is to equate the good simply with what is creatively fulfilling.
Such hedunism is dc-.,ply oiTeJ.,ive to Kant's purillln austerity: truth
and goodom are tlO( so glibly come by, but require discipline and
exertion. Yet practic.t ruson, in its absolutely self-determining, self-
grocmding character, already resembles an 'aesthetie'pheJJOIJlen<m of
a kind; and it will thus always be possible for others to coaftate the
two dimensions. The •estltelic is therefore a perilously arnbinlent
object fur bourgeois society. On the one hand, in its subject-
CCIIII'ed.ness, unt;erulity, spoi1WIOOIIS consensuallty, inlinucy, hmnony
and porposM:ness, ir offers to cater for some of that society's
ideoi<J!!i<;al needs •uperbly w..U; but it threatens on the other hand to
I!SC3l•te unco.ntmllably be)-ond this funcrion to undercut the vtry
foundatioas of ralionatity and moral duty. Taste, at one level sharply
sepanre from truth and morality, seems at another level their vtlj
basis; and the tenns an: thU5 ripe for a deconstruction which will
license some Romanticism to aestltedcize the whole of reatity.
Bourgeois thought would seem confronted with an unenviable choice
be"""en preserving its ratiooality only ot the COSI of marginalizing an
ideologic:ally liuitful mode, and cullh'llting that mode to lhe point
vh.cre it threatens to usurp truth and Yinue themseh·es.
h might be claimed that Friedrich Schiller's Ott the AcstMti<
El~MauW.. ofMtm adnncc:s some way towards such a dCCOil5lniCiion,
remaining ,.;!hin a Kantian pooblemalic it simullaneously interrogates. If
Kant has too severely dislocated Nature sad reason, Schiller will
deline the aesthetic as exactly the hinge or rransllioiLll stage bct~>ecn
th.e brutely sensual and the subliotcly rationa.l. In the fonn of tbe so-
caJJcd 'pby drive', the aesthetic condition reconcih:s the sense drive -
the changing, shapeless, appetitive srufi of sen<arion and desire- with
the fiJilllal drive, the active, •haping-, immutable force of Kanuan
reason. 'The (sense dri\ocl', writes Schiller,
in>isls upon absolute reatity: [man) is to tum everything
whicb is mere form into world, and make aU bis
potentialities fully manifest. The (formal drive) insists
upon absolure formality: he is to destroy evorything in
himself ...ruclt is mere vorld, and bring lwmony into aU
his changes. In other word<, he is tn extemalise aD that is
v.ithin him, and give fonn to aU that is outside bim.'

103
What brinf!$ about this rtsolution of sense and spiril, ntalter tlld
form, clwlse and permanence, finlrude and inJinlty, Is dte aoslhelic,
an epistemolngical category whkh Schiller has now thoroughly
anlhropologizc:tl.
The aesthetic, however, is simply a "'"Y·Siaf!" or passase to dtc
non-sensnous imperatives of pr.octicai re:ISOO, whicb Schlller as a
good cnou"' Kantian fuliy cndonc:s. There is no question, it would
seem, of his aesdteticizing truth and morality out of emtence: !hey
remain hum•nity's loftiest goals, but goals which appear somewhat
absolutist md unfeeling in dtcir demands on scusual bwnan uature.
One can read Schiller's wet, !hat ism say, os an essemlalsoftening up
of Kant's imperious superego of reiiSOtl, a tempcrln! wbicb carries its
own kk:oioglcal necessity. For if reason Is simply at war with the flesh,
how i< it ever to rake root in the body oflj,ed experience? How is
' theory' to flc:sb ilsdf out as 'idt-ulogy'? Scbiller is writing with the
sound of French revolutionary Terror in JUs ears, whicb might
suggest one re:>son why he believesobstrnct...,.son to Sland in need of
a liltlc compassionate moderation; but dtc idcologi<:al dacmma be
confronts is in fact more general !han !his. Rca!on will only secure its
SW41y if il is. in Gr.unsc..ian tmns, oonsensual ratl-..:.r than bluotly
coercive; it must achit'llc hegemony in coOusion with dtc senses it
subduu, rather !han trampling roughshod over them. The Kantlan
duality of Nature and reason simply sbort-cireuiiS what we might coli
the question of idoologio:al reconstruCtion, leaving us with. litde clue
as to how we are to leap from the one realm to the other. SchUler, for
h.is pa.rt, recognizes that this tension between absolute edrical
injunctions, and the sordid sublunary state of bourgeois narure, must
be at once sustained and relaxed; and the aesd1etic is the category
which will perform this difficult double operation. We. shall see,
however, dtar it succeed! in darkening the question of the transition
from Nature to reason as much as illuminating it.
As a progressive refinement of sensation and desire, the aesthetic
•ccomplishes a kind of decanstruction: it breaks down the cynnnical
dominion of the sense drive not by the imposioon of some extemal
ulcase, but from within. 'Through the aesthetic modulation of the
psyche, then, the autonomr of re.uon is already opened up within dte
domain of 5ense itself, the dominion of sensation already broken
within its o..-n frontiers, and plrysical man refined to the point where
spirinul man only need! to stan de\'l:loping out of dte physical

104
 SCHILLER AND HEGEMONY

according to the lawo of ITeedom' (163). On the ten-.in of the

aestheric, humanity must 'play the war against Maner into the •ery
territotY of Maner itK!f, so that )ill may be spared haYing to fight his
dread foe on the sacred soa of Freedom' (169). Tt is easier, in other
words, for reasoo to regulate sensuous NatuR if it has already been
busy eroding and .ubliming it from the inside; and it is precisely this
which the acstlu:tic interplay of spirit mel sense will achieve. The
aesthetic performs in this sense .an esscntiaUy propaedeutic role,
pro<:e!ising and defusing the raw stuff of sensational life for its
evemual subjugation Jt the hands of reason. It is as though, in the
ae;lheric, rea.o;on pial"' along with the senses, in<en"hes them formaUy
from the inside as a kind of 6fth columnist in the enemy camp,
therebr rehearsing us in those higher states of 1n1th and goodne$.<
tow:uds which we •re lr.l•elling. Odt.rwise, as <natures sunk
dqmerately in our de$res, we arc likely to ~rien<:e !he dictates of
reason as unplt.~Sandy 4bsolulist and :ubilraJY, and so £ail to comply
with them. Schiller shrewdly m:ogoizes that K11111's stnrldy deontologiad
decrees an: by no means the most effective ideologieal mechanism for
subjug~~ling a recalcitnnt material world; Kant's Duty, like some
paranoid absolutist monarch, reveals too little ll'IISt in the masses'
~nerous instiocts for conformity to it. This churlishly suspicious
despot thus needs a touch of populist >-ympathy if its hcgclllOIIy iJ to
be ensured: 'Duty, seem -.oice of Necessity, musr mod<:rate tbe
censorious lone o( its precepts - a tone only justified by tbe resistance
the)· cncounll:r - and show greatn respect for Narurc through a
nobler confidence in her wiJUngness ro obey !hem' (217). Dury
;.,ust cncaBC mon: closcly with inclination: that moral chuactcr is
defective which can assert itself only by sauificing !he natu1'31, just
as 'a political constitution will still be very imperfect if it is able
ro achieve unity only by suppressing variety' (19). The poUtical
aBusion is apposite, since there iJ no doubt that 1M 'sense drive' for
Scbilltr dirH1Iy evokes appetitive individuotism. His unculti•ated
's.tVage', 'self-seeking, and yet witbout a Self; lawless, yet "ilhoul
Freedom' (171), is no emtic tribal specimen bua the average Gemwt
midclk-clm philistine, wbo sees in Nature's splendid profusion
Nllhing but his own prey, and either dc\>o~ its objects in an access
of desire or thrusts them horri/iedly aside when !hey threaten to
destroy him. The """"' drive iJ also the proletariat, with its 'crude,
lawkss instincts, unleashed with the looseniug of the bonds of cMI
lOS
or<kr, and hastening with ungovcrMblc fury m thclr animal
wi<factions' (25).
Whot Sdillkr tel'lll> the 'aesthetic modulation of the psyche' in fact
denotes a project of fundamental ideological reconsii'UC!ion. The
aesthetic is the missing mediation between a barbaric civil society
given <m:r to pure appetite, and the ideal of a well-ordered political
state: 'ifnun is ever to solw! that problem ofpolitics in .P.-actke he will
have to approo.ch it through the problem of the aesthetic, because it is
only through Be.uty that man maw his way to Freedom' (9). E,·ery
progr=ive politics win founder as <urely as Jacobinism if it fails to
tak< a detour thruush the p:.Jchkal and addres• itself to the problem
of transforming the hufiWI subject. Schiller's 'aesthetic' is in this
sense Gramsci's 'hegemony' .io a different key, and both concepts are
brooght to political birth by the dismal coll2pse of revolwioo;uy
hopes. The only politics that "ill bold is one lirmly rooted in a
refashioned 'culture' and a revolutionized subjectivity.
The aesthetic will leave humanil)l, not free, moral and ttuthful, but
inherently ready to receive and respond to these .rational imp<rarives:
'although this [a..U.etic] state can of itself decide nothing as regards
cidler oor insipiS or our conYiclioll!l, lhu.s kavmg both our
inreDecru:al and our moral worth as yet entirely problem.uic, it is
nevertheless the necessary pre-conditioo of our attaining to any
insight or conviction at all. In a word, there is no other way of malting
senwou. man ralio...t except by first malcing bim aestheric' (161).
Une-asily conscious that this might se.:m tu nake reason slavisbly
dependent 11[)011 sensuous represemadon, thus un<krmining irs self·
vatiduory power, Schiller sweNes .instmtly bad< to K•mi>n onhodo~y:
'Should truth ami duly nut be able, uf and by themselves alone, tu
gain access to sensuous maD? To which I must answer: they not only
can, they positively must, fftve their determining power to themse.lves
alone . . .' (16l).lkaury impar1s the t-Tto think and deddc, and in
this sense underlies truth and monlily; but it lw no say at aU in the
3ct\13l uses of these p<wlers, whieb ue consequenrJy self-<lererm_lt)ing.
The aesthetic is the matrix of thought and actiun, but uercises no
dominion omr that ro which it gives birth; far !tom hubristically
usUJping the role of rt1lSOo, it simply smooths the path for itS august
appearance. It is not quire, however, a lad<kr which we climb only to
kick away; for though abe aesthetic is the mere precondilinn of truth
and virtue, it nc..erthdess somehow prefigures what it will produce.

106
 SCHilLER AND lfi'.GU40NY

Truth is by no means beauty, so Schiller S~outly m2intains agoinst the

aestheticizcn;; but beauty nonetheless in principle contains it. A
n.urow pallrway can thus be opened up berwcen KAnt's disabDng
duality of faculties on the one hand, al\d _,. aestheticist conOarion
of ihem on tile ocher.
What doe~; it mean to daitn tltlt the a..thedc is the HSential
prt:eondition of the moral? It means, more or less, that in Ibis peculiar
coodilion the rigorous detenninalion of the sense drive, and the
equoUy despotic power of the formal drive, play =selessly into one
other and so succeed in cancc:lling out each other's pn:ssurcs, thus
leaving us in a mtc of oqame freedom or 'free determinability'. 'To
the extent th•t !the play drivel deprives feelings and possions of their
dynamic power, it "'ill bring them into harmony with the ideas of
rta!on; and to the otent tltlt it deprives the laws of reason of their
moral compulsion, it will reconcile tilem with the interests of the
senses' (99). The acsdletie is a kind of fictive or heuristic realm in
which we can suspend the force of our usual powers, imaginalively
transferring qualities from oDe drive to IIIIOther in a kind of free·
wheeling c~qM:riment of the mind. Having toomcntarily disconnc<:1ed
lhese drives from tloeir real-life come<rs, we con enjoy lhe faulllsy of
recons1ituting each by means of the other, reconstructing psychicatl
conlUc:t in terms ofhs potential resolution. This condition is not yet
liberty, which consists in Kaolian ,.ein in our froe conformity to the
moral Jaw; but it is a kind of sheer potential for such positive freedom,
the dattly Indeterminate source of aU our active self·determioat!on.
In the uesthetic, we are tempomrily emanciported from aU dettrminatioo
whai80CVer, eilher physicatl or moral, and pass Instead lhrouib a state
of utter determill2bility. .It is a world of pure hypothesis, a perpenool
' as if', in which we experience our powers and capecitics as pure
formal possibilities, drained or aU particularil); and it is thus a
condition of being SOOJewhat equiwlent to Kant's pure aesthetic
copacity for cognition, which rclll2ins untrammalled b7 the deter·
mination of a sp<d6c concept.
All of this, however, males the aesthetic, that mighty force at the
root of oor moral humanity, sound likl: nothing so much .. a •imple
apori/J. Two strermously antagonistic forces cancel each other out into
a kind of stalt:male or nullity, and this sheer soggcslivc nothingness is
our pre·capadry for aU Vlllue. There is, however, nullity and nullity -
mere blank negation, •nd that richly potential wcuity whlch, as the
107
suspension of every specific constraint, lays the fertile ground for free
action. In the aesthetic colldilion,

(Man) must, conscquendy, in ·a t c r1ainscnsc, return to thot

negative state of complete absence of determination in
which he found himself befoo: anything ot aU h:ul m•de an
impression upon his senses. But that former condition was
completely devoid of content; and now it is a question of
combinins such sh.eer absence of determination, :md :on
eqtWJJr lllllimib:d deu:nninability, with the gn:atr:st possible
content, since ditecdy from this condition something
positiY<: ;,; to resul~ The determination he has received
dlrouglt aensation must therefore be prescm:d, because
there must he no 106" of reality; but at the .arne time it
JllliSt, inasmuch as it is limitation, be annulled, since an
Ulllimited determinability Is to come Into existence. The
problem is, therefore, or. one and the 5:ame time to destroy
and to maintaiD the dct.-rmination of the condition - and
this is possible in one Vtrf only: by confronting it with
llllother determinativn. Tire SC:~I es of the balance stand
level when they aft empty; but they also stand level .,iJcn
they conmln equal weights. (1+1)

·fbc aesthetic is a kind of acali¥<: impasse, a nirvanic suspension of

aU determinacy and del!ire overflowing with entire!)· IJ1lSI)ecific
contents. Since it nullifies the li.mits of sensarinn along wit.b its
compulslvcncs&, It becomes a tind of sublime infinity of possibilities.
Tn the aesthetic swe, 'man Is Nought, if ..u: ore thinkinr of any
partiCIIior result rather than of the totality of his powers, aod
conaiderillg the absence In bill of any spedfic determination' (H6);
but this neg2thity is thereby everything, a pure boundless being wftkh
eludes all sordid 'lpCCifu:ity. Taken as a whole, the •esth.etic condition
is supremely posidve; yet it is also sheer erapliness, a deep and
dauling darkness in which all determinations are ~ey, •n infinity of
notbillgness. The wrc1ehed social <:OIIditioo which Schiller mourns -
the fragmentation of human faculties In the division of labour, the
spa::ializinJ and reifying of capacities, the mechanizing and dissociating
of human powers - must be redeemed by a condition which is,
precisely, nothing m particular. A.s entirely inder.:rminatc, the
108
 SC'.HJU.D AND HF.(;F.MONY

aesthedc upbraids the drastic one-sidcdness of SIOcie!y with its O'flll

serene playfulness of being; but its release from aU ~tennination is
also a dream of absolute fn:cdom whicb belongs with lhe ~
ordtr iuelf. Unlimiled cleterminabilily is die alert po5IUre of one
ready for anything, as ....,u as a utopiut critique of aU actual,
deterrnina~ being from an eternally subjW>Ctive stmdpoinL
Schiller speaks of the power which is restored to humanity in the
aesthetic mode as 'the hilbcst of all boumles' (117), and in celebrated
phrase rem arts !bat 11120 is fully human only when he plays. But if this
is so, dxo the anthctic must be the tt/<11 of human C>istmc<;, not the
tran.'lltlon to such an end. It would cerWoly appear more free than the
domain of morality, precisely because it disdves aU ethical ~nstrainls
along with physi<:al o11es. Oo the one hand, die aesthetic 'only offers
us the possibility of becoming human beings, 011d for the rest le:IVes it
to our own free will to decide how fu we wish to make this a reality'
(149); on the other hand, as a state ofpure untmnmclled possibilily, a
fusion of sensual and radoual, it would seem superior to what it
enables, a sround elevated above what rem upon it. 11tis ambisuiry
reflects a real ideological d~emrna. The problem "'ith Kantian
freedom is that the moral law which enshrines it would also -m to
undercut it. This fn:edocn is of a peculiuly peromptory kind, io;.oruing
it> imp<.'rious dccn:cs in appareot indiffrn:nee to the needs and
natures of its subjec:rs. True freedom may thus be shi.fttd to lbe
aeslhetic; butsiru:e this is iooocent of aU moral diredion and ~=te
determilladons, It is hard m sec how II wiU do as ID adequare IJlii8C of
soci;l pructice. The aesthetic is whatever is the otber of :my specific
social inrercst; it is wilhoot bias to any ddinitc ICIMty, but precisdy
on thai account a gtneral aainting capacity. Culture is the negation
of aD conaete claims and commitments in tb• name of totality - a
totality which is therefore purely ~ld because It Is no more than a
!012lization of negated moments. The aesthetic, in brief, is mere
Olympiut indilferentism: 'because it takes under its protection no
sm,Je one ofmm's faculties to tbe exclusion of the others, It favolltS
each aDd all of them withoot dlstin<tion; and it fin·ours no single ooe
more than anolher for the simple reason that it is tbe ground of
possibility of them all' (151). Unable to say one thing without uylog
everything, tb~ aesthetic ""}" nodting whatsoever, so boundlessly
eloquent os lo be spccchles>. In cullinting every possibilily to the
Umit, It risks leaving us musclebotmd and immobilized. If, aftrr

109
acslb<:lic enjoyment, 'we find ounel>cs disposed to prefer some one
panicular modt of feellng or action, but unlined or disindined for
aoolhcr, this llllly S<:l"o'c as infallible proof that we have not had a
purely aestbclic ~ricncc . • .' (153). As the \'cry taproot of our
morol vinue, the aesthetic is •ppocendy iovolid unless it predis~
us im.liffcrcntly tu martydrom or murder. It ill the way we come to
think and act cruth'el]", the rran.sccndental ground ofour pncticc, yet
all ponicular thought and action are a f:alling ofT from it. As soon as
we suffer c:oncrctc dctc:rminatioo we have lust this pregnant
notllinpesa, kcc:ing ewer from one abSCDCe uno another. Human
existence would s-eem a po~tual oscillation between two ~ of
11eption, as s~ aesthetic cspacity lapses through action .into
limiratlon of being, only to reven again to ind£. The aesthetic, in
shon, is sociaDy useless, just as its philistine critics maiotain: ' for
beauty produces no parlicular reault wllatsOCVer, Dcitbcr for the
understand in~ nor for the will. It·ac:complisbes no particular p111pose,
neither iotcUectual nor moral; it di>wver.; no indinduallnrth, hdps
liS to perform no individual duty and is, in shon, as unfitted 10 pTO\ide
a firm basis for character as to enlighten the ·underst>nding' (147).
But all this, precisely, is the aesthetic's crowning glory: superbly
indifferent to any one-sided tnlth, pwpooc or practice, it is nothing
los.~ rhan me boundJ.,.. infinity nf our touJ ltuiiWiity, ruined a$ !!OOR
as reoliud. Cuhure, it would seem, is jiiSI a porpotual openness 10
anythioJ.
By the close of Sc:hlller's tex1, the aesthetic is sbowing aign.s of
ovetreachiug its humble st>tus as haudmaitle.n of mtSOn. The moral
law it formally subscn'es wuuld seem inferior to it in one major
respect: it is inc3pable of gentrating posith'e 311'ectil!e bonds ~tween
individuals. The law sul>jeas the indnidual will to the genenl, thus
securing the gener.l conditions of poulblliry or social life; it seu
$ubject 011er against suhjecr, curbing their inclinatioo:s, but ca.noot act
as a d)'ll&lllic SOUKe of social hannooy and pleasurable inter~.
Rcuon implants ill humanity the prlnclples of soc:W conduct, but
beaury alone confers on this conduct a social character. 'Ta$te alone
brings harmony into society, because it f<mers ha.nnony in ihe
indmd•tal •.. only the aesthetic mode of commlUiication unites
society, because it relates to llw which Is common to all' (215). Tasre,
moreover, can offer all this and happiness too, as the grim strictures
of morality csnnot: 'Beaury alone makes the to~holc world happy'
110
 SCI!ILL£B AND HEGEMONY

(Zl7), whereas the price of moral virtue is •clf-abncplion. The

aestheri<: .is the langu.tg<! of hum>n <Oli<larity, .~ng i" fu:e agoin.r
all socially di>isi~ elilism and privilege: 'No privilege, no autocracy of
ony kind, is tolerated where tlste rules' (Zl 7), and cs«eric
knowledge. led out b)· ustc into the 'b=d daylight of Common
Sense', be~'OIIlC$ the COI1liiiOD possession of society as a whole. The
aesthetic nate, In short, Is the utopian bourgeois public sphere of
6berty, equality aod democracy, within which everyone is o free
cilizcn, 'havlnr equal rights with the noblest' (Z19). The CODStnined
social order or class-struggle and division of labour has already been
overcome in principle in the oonscnsual kingdom of bcouty, which
inauJJs itself like a shadowy pandise wi1hin lhe present. Tute, wilh
its llttonomy, universality, equality and fellow-feeling, is a whole
alttmative politics, suspending social hierarchy ond reconstituting
relations between indhidoals in the image of disinterested fraternity.
Culture is the only rrue SQCial harmony, a shadowy oppositiooal
society wilhin the present, • nownenal kingdom of persons and ends
secredy traversing tbe phenomenal realm of things and causes. Yet if
the aesthetic thus suggests the fonn of a whoDy different S<lCial onler,
its actual comcnt, as 'A'C have seen, would seem no more thm an
indctemli.nate negalioR, brimming with nothing but its own in-
upn:>sible potential The posili>T llllity of elm society, in olbcr
words, would seem to be nolhing at all, potent but mysteriously
dusive; ony di.s<:OW'S<' capabl• of spanning thai society's actual.•
mulliJile dMsions must indeed be ofrei!Wbbly low definition. As lhe
Ideal unity of a divided reality, the aesthetic is tw:essarily ambiguous
and obscure; to see it as a matter of pc>tenlial aiODe is to confess that
In this soeU:ey Individuals ue at odds wilh eaeb oilier as sooo as they
have ~aed. Cultural unity n1ust be pressed back beyond aU actual
sclf-n:alizalion, which in this order is likely to proK dominative and
pUiial; eulturc exists to enable hWIWI self-determination, but ia also
violated by it: Its force can be preserved, thtR, only if its content is
steadily dwindled to nothing. Culrure in no sense: dctrnnines what wt
shuuld do; it u ralhcr that, in continuiniJ to do whateva we are doing,
we ac1' with an equipoise which implies we could just as easily be
doing somethinJ else. lt is thus a ql161ion of style, or 'grace' as
Schiller would term it ·we will learn best bow 10 beruve by Iakins our
cue from a oondilion vhicb in\'Oives doing nothing whatsoncr.
Neither the moral law nor the aeslhelir ccaclilion, !hen, will wholly
Ill
•-uffic:e as images of the ideal society, which is why, perhaps, Schilltr's
work seems UDWittingly tom between devating the lllw aboYe the
aesthetic, and the aesthetic over the law. The law, of course, officially
reigns S\Jpn:rne; but it can offer no sensuous representation of the
freedom it slpllics, and tbc alarming tnlth m\ISI be faced thai
morality is incapable in itself of pro,iding the ideological bonding
encntial for social cohesion. In its Kantian form. it is too abslract,
individualist and imperious, too sadistically desirous of submission in
its subjects, to carry through the.;e consensual tasks at all effectively.
The onus of >uch a projoct tb.,Tcfure shifts to the aesthetic; yet if the
ethical is tOO formulaic aad unbending for such purposes, too linle
sensitive to indj.,idual differences, lbe aesthelic would, seem in its own
way equally empty of pr11ctical cootent. If the lllw is tOO ~
masculine, too implacable in iiS c:octions, the aa lhctic is too
malleabiy feminine. Culture marks aa •m'iiDee on a formalistic moral
ideology by its opeDDess to the senses; yet' that embrace of the
sensuous takes the fonn of delilsing its determinate contl:nts, hence
falling b;u:k into me very fD11D31ism it was out to transcend.

T he aesthetic for Schilkr involves the creation of scmblaacc; and

sinee scmblaace involves a acative indifference 10 Nature, it is
through a delight in such beautiful appeorance that 'sa""ge' human
beings fim pope lhcir laOOrious way upward fiurn animal dependeocy
on !'heir env!mnment m the freedom of the awhetlc. Humanity
launches out on the path of its true liberty, effecting a breach in its
biological nature, once it 'SWt!l pn:fcrrinJ form rn substance, and
jeopardi•ing reality fOI' the sake of semblance' (205). If this movement
abandons Nature at one level. it also stays faithful ta it at. another - for
Nantre Itself has prodiplly la..W.ed on iiS crmures more than the
bare neeessitie< of existence, and offers in this lll2terial swplu. • dJm
pre>~ision of th.e a!imitabaity of aesthetic freedom. The -thetic,
then, is in this sense natund: we mUAl be prodded upward into it by
the poW<!r of Nantre itsdf, since what ochc...Ue mlgbt impd us
towords it. - the wiU - is a product of lbe •tile af fftedam, not its
pn::rondition. Butlhe •esthetic is atlhe same time wmarund, since in
order to COllie lntn ill cno;n the lmaglnadon DIIISt llllkc some
mysteriously ineq>lic:able leap out of this purely ll>ll!erial supet-
abundance into its OWD fertile autonomy. The relatiun between
Nature and freedom, in shon, is aporedc: the latter breaks slwply
112
 SOIU.LU AND HEGEMONY

"ilh the fanner, but somehow under the former's own impulsion.
Freedom cannot 1:1ke off from it<elf, since tbi.• would suggest that
thcTC was already a will to do "'• thus n:ndcrin( fn:cdom anterior to
~If. Bur if &eedom share$ some kinship wilh Nat:ure, how can it be
free? Th• o<gative indeterminacy of the a""-thetic, transitional point
between Nature and freedom, necessity and reason, i5 thus required
as a solution to the riddle of where fre<dom oomes from, of how it
could ever have possibly been born of the un&ce. The eniJ!IIla of the
:teSiberic is the solnrion to this puZ>.Ie - which is to say rmt on• riddle
is merely answered with another. The obscurity ofScbillcr's doctrine
of the aesthetic is the insmnibility of the oril!ins of freedom in a
soci<ty where rational subjoctivit)· is the negotion of aU sensuousness
and materiality. How freedom and necessity, subject and OOjecr, spirit
and sense can possibly go together is, In such an aUerwed sod21
order, theoretically impossible to >ay. Yet there an: increasingly
argent poitical reuons why they should do so, and the obscurity of
the aesthetic in Schiller's thooght is the upo;hoc of this impasse.
The ambiguilies of Schiller's won.., dutifully tidied away to
'paradoxes' by his English editors, are signs of genuine political
dUemmas. Indeed the whole teJtt is a kind of political allegozy, in
which the troubled relation.< between sense drlw and formal drive, or
Nature and reoson, are ne-er far from a rdection on the ideal
relations between populace and ruling dass, or tMl society and
absolutist state. Schiller draws the paraDe! quite explicitly himself,
comparing the relation between reason (which enjoins unity) and
Norun: (which demands muldpllclty) to the desirable reladon
belween potitical state and society. The state, while its demand for
uniJy is ab$olute, must IIC\'Crthcless rcsp«~ the 'subjec:ti\·c and
specific character' of its materials (the populace); it must nurture and
n:spt(.t "lJ<llltam:ous impulse, and ocbim: its unity ..mhout ~J
plurality. Just as reason in the aesthetic realm cunnins!J inserts ~If
within the sensual, relin.ing it from the inside into compliance with its
own injunctions, so lite polilical state 'can ooly become a reality
inasmuch as ias pans have been tuned up to the idea of the whole'
(21). It is the aesdtelic, as ideologicAl reeonstructioo and hegemooic
strategy, which will acwmplisb Ibis end; so that ' once man is inwardly
at one with himself, he wiD be able to presem! his indmduality
however much be may univenalise his conduct, and the State will be
merely lbe interpreter of his a.m finest loslinct, • clearer rormuladon
113
of llis own sense of v.·bot is right' (21). If this fails to bappen, Sclilller
warns, if'subjective mao sets his face against cbjeclivc man', then the
latter (the stan.) "'ill be forced Into the coercive suppression of the
fo rmer (cillil society), ond will 'ruthlt:SSiy · truoplc underfoot sucb
powcrtillly acdlt!oas Individualism ill order llot to fall ~ victim 10 it'
(21). In this blealt political rondiOOn, 'tluo concrete life of the
Individual is dcstroy1:d in order that the abst:ra£1 idea of the Whole
may drag out its sony existence, and the St>t.e remain< fon:>·er a
stranger to its citizens since at no point does it ewer m:tke conw:t with
their feelillg' (37).
Political power, in short, must implant itself in subjectivity itself, if
its dOJDioancc is lo be secun:; and this process requires the
production of a ciri>.4n whooe eth.ico-political dury has been
internalized as spontanoous indinatii.HL Moral greatness, Schiller
argues in llis essay 'On Grace and Oigrtity', is a question of obeying
the moral law; but mor31 11t¥1111y is the graceful dispc>sition In such
confOilllity, the law introjected and habinuted, the reconstn~ction of
one's entire subJecthood In ils t:enru;. It is this w.hnle colturallife-sryle
which is the ttue object of moral judgement, not, as with Km.t, certain
d iscrete actions: 'Man is intended not to perf<mn separate mon1
actions, but to be a moral being. No< ¥irtues, but Yirtue is hi< precept,
and vir11Je is n01hing else than an inclination to duty." An atomistic
ethic:>, earnestly o'lllculatiog the effa;1J of in.tentions of ea~:b. distinct
action, is anti-ar:sthetic: the shift from mora6ty to culnlre is one from
the power of the head to the rule of the heort,from abstmct decision
10 bodily disposition. The 'whole' human subject, .u we ~ seen
elsewb-, must comoen its neces.'lity into freedom, transfipre its
etbinl duty into instinctual habit, and so operate like an aesthetic
anefact.
'On Grace and Dignity', like TTt.Atstlutic ~ IT{MtJII, ltlaUs
no secret of the political foUIIdations of this aesthetic. 'Let us
suppose', Schiller writes, 'a monarchical state administered in such a
way that, although all goes on a«ording to the win of one person,
a.:b oilizc:n could pe,.uaalc twn.clf that he IU"Cmi and uh<')'S only
his own inclination, we should call that pemment a liberal
government' (200-1). Similarly, 'If the mind is manifested in such a
way through the sensuous nature subject to its empire that it executes
its behests with the most faithful exactitude, or expresses its
senliments in the most perfectly speaking manner, withoot going in
114
 SCHILLU AND II£GEMDNY

the least apinst that which the aesthetic scase demands from ir as a
phenomenon, then we shall see prodaeed tlw whieh we call grtz«'
(201). Grace is to ~rsonal life, in brief, as the spontaneous
submissioa of the masses is to the political state. Ia the pofitical as in
the aesthetic order, ea.:h inc6vidual unit behaves as though it governs
itself by virtue of the way it i> guliemed by the law of the whole. Tbe
absolulist prince of reuon must neither restrict all free ~M¥Cmeot of
the senses which se,..e him, nor allow them liberti.ne sway. Schiller
llkcs Kant to 1aSk for lllljusdy scrclnr aside the rirhts of sensuous
nanore, cllliming instead that morality mll5J couple itself with
inclination and so become a kind of 'second natun:'. Kant's moral
theory, in otber words, is damaP~~gly incapable of becoming effective
ideology. If the moral law, that most sublime l'itness to otu human
graadeur, does nothing bu 1 humiliate and accuse us, caa it reolly be
tr11e to its Kantlan starus as a rational bw of self-conferred Uberty?
And is it altogether surprising that human beings wo11 be tempted to
rebel against a juridical power whieh appears to be aliea and in-
diiTerent In them?
The dangers of aestheticiljog the law to notlling, howe\"er, remain
linnly in Sclllllcr's silftts. If it is ~n~e, as he arrues in 'On Grace and
Dignity', that ' lhe mor-JI pe1fection of man caMot shine forth e:rcept
&om this very usoci•tioa of his inclination widl his moral conduct'
(206), it is cquaUy the case, as he reminds us in bls •=Y "!be Moral
Utility of Aesthclic Manners', that taste is in itself a dubious
foundation for moral eld.sltnce. Order, harmony and perfection are
not in m.emselves •irtues, even if 'taste gives a di.rcctioo to the soul
which disposes it to virtue' (132). Another essay, 'On the NccCS5&1Y
UmltadOIII In the Usc of 8cau(y of Form', is Ukewise ~emcd to
restore the edge 10 the r.ational: here SchiDer conlnlsts the 'body' or
matrrial wmension of a disc<lllnC, where the imagination may be
pennitted a cerWo rbetoricallkcnse, with illl ooru:cptual substance,
and warns of the d31lgtrs of rhetorical signifier coming to usurp
conocptuol signihcd. Such a move assigns roo hilft a stams tn the
feminine, for women are concerned with the 'matter' or cxrernal
medium of truth, its beauteous embc:Uislunents, ralher lban with
trUth itself. Good raste involves the regulated coupling of male and
femole, signified and signifier, constati-.e and perfonnative; but this
coupling is not symmetrical, since power and priority must always Ue
with the fonner terms. Rhetoric, or lhe scnsUOIIS body of a discourse,

115
must never forget that it 'carries out an order emanating from
elsewhere', lhat it is not its own offllizs it treats of; if this forgetfulness
were to occur, men mlght end up b«oming indlJTerent to rational
substance and allow themseloes to be sedu""d by empty ilflllearanee.
Wolllllll, in brief, is • co-panner who miiSI know her plaee: 'wte
must be confined to resuJ.alinJ the external form, whik: reason and
aperiencr determine the substance and the essenc-e of cooceptions'
(245). Taste bas its dnswbiU:ks, in shon: the more it refines and
sophistioatfi us, the more it ups our inclinadon to perform action.•
commanded by duty ,.-hicb revolt our sensibilities. The fact that we
should not be brutes is no excwc for becoming eunuchs.
Howard C.ygill has convincingly argu<!d that Kantian aesthetics
stonds at the ooulluencc of twu upposed tnditiDtJS: the British lineage
of 'sympalby', monl sense .a nd natunllaw, which believes it possible
to fMer a harmonious unity in bourgeois civil society independently
of juridical coen:ion and political decree; and the Gennan rationalist
herilllge flowinJ from uibniz and Cltrislian WolfT to i\lexander
Baumgarten, which in its concern with the universal validity and
necessity of the aesthetic is bound up with the ideologies ofleglllity of
an enlil!fltened absolulism.' Such German aesthetics, in its pre·
ocaq>aJion with law and concept as agaiDSt sense and feeling, implies
the dominance of state legality over the 'moral' or affective domain of
civil society. SchUler's work is a signifieant qualification of this
tendency: social unil)' must be generated in a ~ense from 'below',
from an acsthcticaUy transformed or ideologically n:constituted ci\'il
society, not le~lared arbitnrily from ~hove. Yet the resemttion of'in
a seme' is signific.mt, since the way this will come ~bout is not
through some scntimo:nW populist Iiiith in natural spontaneity, but, as
we have seen, through re.uon, in the disguise of the aesabetic,
smuggling i1self into tb;, enemy camp of sensation in an effon to
know, and hence master, its antaJOnist. 11; then, Seh!llcr is on the one
hand notAbly neMlus of law, which as be writes In his essay on the
pathetic tends to rtslriet and humiliate us, be also betn)'S from linl<
to time a pathological suspicion of the senses, which threaten to dog
the free soaring of ntlonal spirit. An Idealist impulse to <uhUmate the
sensual to the ()(lint of evaporation is at odds with a more judicious
materialist recognition of Nature's srubbom autonomy. But If the
former project plays too readily into the hands of r•tionalist
ab>nlutism, the latter ' iewpoint acknowledges the reality of sensuous
116
 SCHIU.Eit AND H!:GEMONY

experience only at the risk of hmng to r~nouru:e the absolutism of

reason and lite !l'llnsform:~tive J)(IW.Or of tile im:aginatioo.
The aeslhelic ideal, as we have seen, is an interfusion of sense and
spirit, which teaches 115 that 'the moral freedom of man is by no
meus abrogated through his inevitable dependence upon phr.;ical
tbinp'.' Yet this felicitous parmership is by no means as llllltU2l as it
loob: ' in the realm of truth and morality, feeling may have no say
~er; but in the sphere of beiDg and weU-bdng, fon:n has every
right to em~ and the play-dril•e every right to command'. The
deconslrUction, in other words, is aD one way: the form-giving
pot~ of male reason pa~<tntes and subdues the inchoate aensual
feaule, but u 'feeling' she has no redpmcal voice in the •phen of
truth and morality. In Lhe highest condition of hWD:lllity - the
usthelic state- >Cmblancc will mgn supreme, and 'aU that is mere
matter ceases to be' (217). Such beautiful ·~ veils the
squalov of sonsual reality, and 'by a delil!hdul illusion of freedom,
concuk from us our degra4lng kinship w!th matter' (219). An
idealized version of the woman os beauty is wielded against a debased
imare of ber as senruallty. Schiller's teXt has arril"cd at tbc very
lhreshold ofNiei2Sche's celebration of!he aesthetic as tife-enhancing
illusion in Tltt BirfA fi[TrQ~<d,y, and a similar pessimism about material
Ufe undertics both allirmalions. His aesthetic programme is on the
one houtd positive and constructive -an hegemooic Slr.lte8}" for wbicll
culture is no solitary contemplative dreaming but an active social
force, offering in its utopian public •phere of ci\'iliud intercoune the
missing mediation between the degraded state of civil society
(Narure) and the politieaJ n:qu!rcm<:nlS of the absolutist state
(reason). But thi< resource(ul•ocial project is in partial cootradiction
with ilS aulhor's acsthcticist idealism: the former involves a faith in
the SetlSIIOUS body and a liberal distrtlst of tyrannic:~~ reason too
deeply qualilied by the Iauer. The bra•• effort to reline matter into
spiri~ while somehow pr<KI"Vinf it "' matter, fonnders on die
inttamigcnt appetitive Ufe of civil society, and C4n rum at crisis-point
into an aestheticizing IWll)' of this wltole degraded domain. In this
IIIOOd, the aesthetic would seem less to ttans6rure material Ufe than
10 cast a decoi"OI&S veil over its cllronic unregenenq. Culrure Is 1t
once active social remaking and etllereal realm of being. authentic
freedom IDd the mere baUueination of happin~ a Wliversal
communi!)• which can be louted 'only in <ome few chosen circles'
117
(ZI9}. If it is iruemally conlrldlctory, it is bcc:.ause Its rel2don m
society as a whole ean only be one of conOicL

Schiller's aesthetic thouglu provides some of the \ital constiruent!l of

• new lh•wry of buurgeois hegemony; but it also protests with
magnificent passion against the spi;irual devastation which that
emergont sncial order is wreaking, and this is th.e aspect of it which
bas perhaps been most remembered.' 'In the vel)' bosom of the most
exqllisltely developed social life', Schiller ,.Tires In the Anlhnic
U.UUWo ofMan, 'egotism has founded its system, IIJid without e-ver
acquirillg thm:£rom a heart that is truly sociable, we suffer aD the
oontagions and afflictions of society. We subject our free judgement
to ilS despotic opinion, our feelin!f to its fantastic customs, our will to
ils sedut:tiom; only our caprice do we uphold against its sacred rishts'
(27). The proliferatioa or techniclll and empirical kmr..-Jrd~. the
divisions of social and inteUeetual labour, have severed the 'inner
uniry or human nature' and ...its hannonious pov;en at variance with
one another in a 'disastrous conilict' (33). 'Everlastingly chained to a
sm,le Ultk ftap"~Cm of the Whole,IIWl himselfdevelops into nothing
but a fragment; everlastingly Jn hi& ear the monotonoos sound of the
whed !hat he turns, he never de-clops the hannony ofhis being, and
instead of punin11 the stllmp of hwnaniry upon his own narurc, be
beC<llnes nothlng lTIOft than the imprint of his oeeupation or of his
~d knowJedse' (35). Such ont-Sided developtDent, so Sdilller
tniSIS, is a necessuy stage in the propcss of Reason mwuds some
future synthesis; and this i• a .,;.,. he shares with Karl Marx, whose
critiq~ of industrial capitalism is deeply rooted in a Schillerian vision
of stuD ted capacities, disaociatcd po.o-.:n, the ruiDed totality ofhutnan
natute. The whole radical aestheric tr.ldition from Cokridgc to
Herben Mamasc. lamcntiug the inorganic, mcchmistic nature
of industrial c:apillllsm, draws IUS!tnanee front this prophelic
denllDciation. What musa then be empha.•ized is the coruradictory
nature of an aesthetic which on the one hand offers a fruitful
ideological mooel or the human subJect for bourgeois society, and on
the other hand holds out a vision of human capacities by which that
society can be measured and found gJ"ll\'cly wanting. T hat ideal, of a
rich, all-round defelopmeot of btlnWI subjective powers, is inherited
from a tr.lditionaJ, pre-bourgeois COJJTCnt of hwnanism, and stands
implaeably askew to possessive indhidualism; but there arc other
118
 SCHtLLEit AND 111;G£MONV

aspects of the aesthetic which can fulfil some ofthat individuolism's

ideological needs. In iiS crippling lop-sidedness, 0011f¥euis socieey is
the tntmy of aeslhcric thought; but tbat thought recasts the relations
bcl\l'l:en law and desire, reason and the body, in ways which hove
much to c-untribute to the emergent socW order. The test of a tnlJ,
radira.l aesthetics will be its ability to operate as social crldque without
simultmcously providing the grounds of political rati6cati(ln.

1 Gilles DelcUZ<, Kmrt's Cri!WI Phi/11J4Pity (Minneapolis, 198~). p. SO.

2 See johll MocMumy, Tlrr Stf., 1f1to1 (LoDdon, 1969), dlaptcr I.
3 Fricdrieb Schilcr, On tAr Amhnir Emwtioo 9/MIIJ, ed. Ellzobelh M.
Wi!Dnson and L A. Willoughby (Oxford, 1967), p. T/. I.U subsequent
mermces to this I<Xl Will he given puentherically ~ quolllioru.
4 'On Gtoce ond Dignity', in W.,., t{Fm.lritlo StAil'" (N<Y York, n.d.},
n~l. IV, p. 200, Allsubiequeol rcftrcnas 10 SciUlkr'• <$$>)'$refer to this
'10111111<, aDd are given ~ after quotations.
5 See Howarcl CoyiPD, 'Aatheda ud Civil Society: l'he<>ri.. ol An aod
Socley 1640-1790', unpubl shed Pb.D thesis, Unhusily of Sussex,
1982.
6 Schiler, On '"'A"IActi< £""""~ofMRo, p. 187. Sub>cqucntrd'cn:occs
ro this le%1: are given pvenlhelically .:tfier quotatjons..
7 Sec, for wmpk, Georg LuUc:s, C..W IINI/Iis 4 (Londoa, 196!1),
chapters 6 & 7; Fredric: Jam<son, M........, llNI F.,. {Princeton, 1971),
c:lupter 2, Pan II; Mupret C. h,.., Tlrt A...u.p.qf/1'"""01!1 (Loll\'ain,
1970). Yor other srudl<S of Sdlillcr's JCStbetics, see S. S. Kcny, Sdlllln~
Wriliop .,AntMia (Msnchcltcr, 1961), aDd L.P. Wessel, 'Scbllleranci
the Genesis ol G<mWI ltonwuicism', Sn.li<s itr &.mmtlmr, 'IOL 10,
no.. l (1971).

119
 5

The World as Artefact:

Fichte, Schelling, Hegel
'Too tender for things' , w.s how Hegel disdainfully described Kant's
proto-mAterialist 1.ealto preserve the Dittt·IJJI·sidz. .For why preserve
a realm about wbich absolutely nothing «n be Slid: Sin<:c nothing
can be predicated of it, Kant's thing-in-itself is a cypher as resistant
to symbolization as the Lacanian re.~J, more enigmatic e•en than God
(of whom we can pn:dic:ate cemln qualities), the mere sign of an
absence. The essence of reatity can be preserved only by being
rtiiU)ved frum the realm of cognition, and so canccllcd. In some
fanwy of the death wish, the world wiU be rendered safe by being
erased, insulated from the vagaries of subjectivism in the crypt of its
own non- being. That wbich cannot be named cannot be violated;
only nothingness, as Hegel himself laKw, Is purity of being, so
blessedly free ofdetennination that it does note>en exist. Intersecting
OW' world at every point is an entiR phaolasmallllliYenc, whieh is the
way reality might appear to us ifw., were not the limited crearurcs we
are. We Clio say that such appearance would be different, but since we
cannot say how it would be different the differeDCC in questfon
becomes pure, which is to say nothing whotsoever. As pure
difference, the Ding-flfl-rim makes no diffm:ne10 at all. It is
comforting, even so, to know that there Is an Inviolable domain of
being so f.tr removed from our life that it has all the inteUigibilily of a
square triangle.
Hegel will have oone of this effernlnaJe cringing be fen the thing-
in-itself, this timid last-minute withdrawal of thought from its full
penetration of the object. For bim, as more explicitly for N"~etzsche
after him, it is "" though the sage of Kllnigsberg is a palhetic old
eunuch on this salre, too tender and fernlnine by holf, loiterinJ
 THE WORLD AS AIITEFACT

irresolutely on the very threshold of some full possession of heing

wimout the potency to press oheod. His is at beSI 1 mere half-virilil)',
able to cooceive thought itself as active but then SIIIUkring it from illi
mQS(erful approprilltion of the object. Kant's Oedipal prot~ness
towards the maternal body places the real m ·m:ndy out of bounds,
prol>ibiring that impious coupling of 5Ubject and object for which
Hegel's dialectical progrunme will clamour. His system is feebly
androgynous, active in respect of thought but passive with regard to
sensation, 1 shamefaced ideillism still senlimeotoUy ensnored in
empirimm. And the upshot of this lltiiiW1!y compromise, as Hcscl
and. others saw••• mere contradiction: like the maternal body, me
thing-in-itself is posited and prohibited at a stroke, so utterly sclf-
ldendcal thar langu"!e fahen and i'ftrvea off from it, leaving hehlnd
it the sheer 1r.1ce of a silence. Kant's epistemology mixea concept and
inluition, masculine form and feminine conll:nt, bot this marriaJc is
unstable from the ootset, neither fish nor fowl. Form is external to
content in the realm of und~rstaoding, left without content in
practical reuoo, and elevated to an end in itself in aesthetic
judgement. Hegel, by conlr.ISI, ,.;n have the courage of his idealist
virilil)', penetrating to the very essence of the object and delivering up
im Inmost secreL He will c:my lhe oonttadicdons of th01J8bt right inlo
lhe thing itself, into the veile!t and tabooed, and so will risk fissuring
lbe realily whieh for Kant muat remain chas11:ly intact, dividins it
against itself by the labour of me neg<ltive. But this is only JX)SSl'hle
because he already knows, in some Kleinian fanta.')' of reparation,
that this violated helug will finally be resmred ro itself whole and
entire. The namtive of Grot may he one of strenuou.• conftict, but
this dislectic:al activism is folded within Crufs citculu, womb-like
enclosure, Its constant tautological return upon itself. Indeed from
this stmdpoint the se.rual roles of Kant and Hegel are reversed with a
vengeance. It is Kut, iD !M.swt soUrude of the ethical ' Ought', who
s tonds austerely aloof from de5ire, censoring all copulaliou he tween
freedom and Nature, SliJTtndered to a rea<()fl continually at war with
the ll.esh; and it is Hegel's dialectic which wiU re51on: to the&C
bloodless fonns their proper carnal e<mtent, subbting mere morality
into the sensuous body of 'coru:rele ethics' (Siulichltei{), returning aU
fonnal ca11:gooo to the rich, fertile mo.-ement of Grufs self·
becoming.
Hegel's restlessly actire subject, thrusting itself imo Nature's most

121
secret recesses in order to unmask her as an inferior version of
himself, need have no fear that his desire "'ill rip him from Namre
and lca>C him bereft of a ground. For the subjcc1's break from its
imagillary communion with the world, with all the self·esttangcmcnt
and unhappy consciousness which such a rupture involves, is no more
than a necessary moment of Spirit's imaJinary rciWn to itscl£ What
figures for the subject u a cawtrophic lapse into the &)mbolic order
figures for the Absolute as mere spume on the WIIVe of its imapaary
self·r«uperadoo. Thesubject's fall from narcissistic self· presence to
alienation is simply a sttaregic move within the Absolute's own
broodinJ nar\."iloiism, a J'1ISC of reason whereby it will finally ris<: to the
delights of cnntemplaling i110elf in the mirrnr of human self·
l'llnsciuusness. Like the ~dipal SOil, lhe subject must surrender irs
unmediued Wlity wilh the world, endure splitting and desolation; but
its ultimate rewud will be inkgntion into reason itstlf, whose
appilftnl harshness is thus merely kindness mispm:eived. Division
and comndiction are the very constituents of a deeper imagina.ty
identity; spli~, in a consoling fantasy, is also healing, a bioding
lighter of the circle ofCrisr, which as the identity of identity and non-
identity will gamer such difference into itself as entlcbmc:nL Its
ceaseless loss of being is thllS the very dynamic by which h grows tn
fiallncss.
Kant, as ~ have sem, distlngulshes the ...tbedc liednn of a
world-for-the-5Ubjea from the clear-eyed re>lm of the underst:ulding,
which tells us that objects finally aist for lhcmsdvcs in a way quite
heyMd lhe reach of mind. Hegel ~~oiU m'etride this distinction at a
>1roke, refusing at once that dream of a Ficllte in which the object is
nothing apart from the qo, and !be bleak condition in whicb ·i t rums
its bad on hlllJWiity altogether. JWiity for Hegtl is inseparably for
us and for itself, for us in the very essence ofwhat it is. Tbi.ngs exist in
themselves, bat their trutlt will ettu:~ ordy through the steady
incorporation of their determinations in the dialectical whole of
SpiriL What makes the object tJU!y itself is simultaneously what turns
Its face rowards humanity, for !be principle of Its being is at one with
the roar of our own subjectivity. Hegel projects Kant's aesthetic
fiction into the very structure of the real, lhus n:scuing lhc .subject at
once from the llulms of subjectivism and the miseria of esmngetnmt.
The bourgeois dilemma,lhat what is objective escapes my possession,
and what I pos$CSS ceases to be an object, is lhus resolved: what is

12Z
 Tl!E WORU> .\S ARTEFACT

wholly mine is nevertheless entirely real, and mine precisely in that

solid rtalil)'. T ile imaginary is e~·ated from the a£Sthetlc m the
theoretical, shifted up • gear from fee~ng to cognition. Ideology, in
the shape of the identity of subject and object, is installed at the level
of scientific koowledge; and Hegel can rhus afford to o.ssign an a
lowly place in his system, sin"' he has alr~ady cOI'enly aestheticized
lhe whole of the reallty which conuins it.
Hegel's great achievement, as Chari<$ Taylor ha.< argued, is to
resolve the conllict herwccn the bourgeois subject's drive for freedom
and its desire for an express!« unil)' \\ith lhe world.' He offers, in
short, a fonnidable synthesis of Enlightenment at1d Romantic
thought. The dilemma of the bo\ql:oili subjcc:t is that it> fn:edum
and auronomy, the very essence of iu being, put ir at odds with
Nature ami so rut from ben•ath it any ground by which it might be
nlidated. The more autonomous the subject grows, the less it can
justify its e>istence; the more full-blnodedly it realizes its essence, the
more alienated and contingent it becomes. The price of liberty is
radical homelessness, as the Schlcgelian doctrine of romantic irony
attests: the furious dynamic ofOO..rgeois desire exa<eds any objecti""
corrcla.tivc in rite world, threatening to suikc all of !hem provisional
and banal. A desire which reali:7.es i~lf th~ comes to seem ju.~t as
futile as one which does not. So it is, as Hegel shr....tly recognizes,
that the euphoric IC!Msm of the romantic subjc<t iii only ever a hair's
breadth a.,·ay from utter rUhilism, likely at ony momont to keel 011er
into jaded disillusion, entranced as it is by the impo,;sible dream of
some pun prodw:ti\icy "ithout a product. One of ideology's most
fundamenllll requirements - that humanity should feel reasonably at
home in the world, 6nd some confirming edo of ils identity in its
emirons- would seem tragically at odds witb the libertarian ideology
of the bonrgeoisie. Fichte, detecting behi'nd Kant's Di•g-dn-sid: the
mlnt.tory shadow of Spinozism, with its exaltation of Narurc and
consequent deni>.l of freedom, will propose the absolute ego as puu
subjective activity for its own sake, an ego which needs to posit
Nat11re simply as the field and instrUmeru of iiS 01\n expression. The
world is no more than a notional constnint against which the ego m:ty
flex its muscles and detight in its pD\\'ei'S, a convenient springboard by
which it can recoil onto iuelf. Nature as non-ego is merely a
necessary moment of the ego, a tempnr.uy given instantly ~~d,
posited only to be abotisbed. Hegel sees that if this Fichtun ego is to

123
do more. than endlessly chase its own rail. if it is to be grounded and
guaranteed, then it must be forced down from its unseemly
megalomania to the sober terrain of Narure and histoey. Fichte's
frenetic acti~ism is ooe form of aestheticism: li.k£ the work of art, the
absolute ego takes Its law from it5clf alone, expanding its own powcn
sin1ply for the sake of it. Hel:"l will curb l'ichte's rhapsodic self-
rcfcrc:ntiality by recalling us to the object, but in do;ng so merely
replaces one fonn or ae.sthetic:ization with another: in the milbty
artwork of c.isJ, subject ond object, form and content, part and
whole, freedom and nct'Cssity slide in and out of uch other
incessantlr, and aU of this, moreover, happens just for its own •ue:
there is no point to these subtle str:\tegies other than Spirit's potient
self-p<rfection.
Jr grounding the subject is not to negate its tieedom, then histOI)'
and Nature must first of a.U h:r\·e been transfol'll'ltd into freedom
themselves. Ifthe subject is 10 unite with the object without detriment
to lis autonomy, subjeamty must be smuggled into the object itsel f.
Hi~tory must be imbued with aU the 5elf-detennining autonomy of
reason, colonized as the homeland of Cr&r. Hegel can thus resolve
the Kaodan anlinomy of subject and object by boldly projecting one
of its temlS i.nto the other, con"erting Kant's aesthetic fiction - rhe
unity of subj~ct and object in the a<.1 of judgement- into ontological
myth. If the world is SllbjectiYlud, the Nbject can be anchored in it
with impunity; the dynamic activism of Fichte's entrepreneuriol ego
can continue unabated, but now "ithout fen that it wiU simply <:ante!
out the objec<. 'Mind', remarks one of Hegel's disciples, 'is not aa
inert being but, on the contrary, absolute restless being, pure activity,
the m:gating or ideality of ~-vccy fixed catcgocy of ·the abstnlctive
inteDect.'' It is just that what an this frantic negating will unco-.·cr is
the rational tol2lity of the world; and fnr its full disclosure, hW03D
subjc'Ctivity is indispensable. If we are at home in histOty, it is because
histocy has need of our freedom for its own fullilmenr. ~·cw more
elegant solutions to the conOicr of grohndedness ond outonomy could
be imagined. It belongs to the freedom and necessity of the Idea that
it should come ro consciousness of itself, and the place " 'here this
happens is the mind of the Hegelian pbilo<Qpher. ·r ar from being
pointlessly coadngcnt, human subjecti';icy "'as reckoned into the
equation since the world began. Infinity, which for Hegel could ·not
subsist without finitude, needs us quite as much as we need it. This)

124
 Till. WORLD .'\S ARTEFACT

oo to speok, is an imaginory on the side of lhe object: !here is that in

!he object itself which posits a rational subject, 1\ilhout which the
object W<>Uid lapse iruo non-being. It is mind, Hegel writes in the
En<;•d<>Jlodia, whi<h cogni1.es the logical Idea in Naltlre, and thus
raises Nature to its essence. As in the small infant's dreams of
hnmoruliry, the world would nor e>Cist if it itself ceased to be; what it
is for reality to be autonumuus is for it to centre upon us. The
bourgeoisie is thus no longer caught in the Hobson's choice of
clinging to its freedom but ob:andoning the world, or clinging to that
world butsacrifidng its autonomy. Ifreason is what estranges us from
Nomrc- if, for Kant, it dm·cs a "'edge between being and humaniry -
then reason, this time as l'm>uofi rather d'"'' JlmumJ, can be twn•-d
apinst itself to lead us back home, the rarlnrul g:tins of the
Enlightenment preserved but their •lienatory losses liquidated. The
•cry power that divan:<:$ us from bdng, given a dialectical l'o\ist, is
always in the ~ss of relllrning us safely to its bosom. The
cuntnodictioos of bourgeois history are projected into realily itself, so
that, in a cunning toap lk gr4« of the dialecrlc, to struggle with
contradicrlon is by that very act ID be at one "ilh the world, which has,
so ro speak, jUS~ the same problems as ourselves. If the cssc.ncc of'
realily is contradlcrlon, then to be self-divided is to be rooted in the
real.
Some hwuan beings, fichtc suggests in the Sd<n« of KniiD'kt/q,
remain patlw:rically fixated in the mirror stoge, reliAnt for their :reose
of identity on utemal im•S"S• in llight from their own e>:istential
medom:
Some, who ha\>e not yet raised themselves to fuU consdous·
ness of their freedom and absolute i.-dependence, 6nd
tlu:msclvcs only in ihc pMcntation of ihing>; lboy have
only that di~d self-consciou..,ess which anache.• to
objects, and has to be gle~ned from d1eir multiptidty.
Their image is rdkcted back at them by things, as by a
mirror; if there were taken from them, their self would. be
.losl as weD; for the sake ofthei.selfthey cannot give up the
belief in the independence vf ihing>, for ihcy themselves
exist only if things do ...'
Hegel will - the subject from this benighted condition, but
unlike Fichte he will not ihereby maroon it on the desolate peak ufits

125
own aulonomy. Instead) he will reconmuct this imaginary re-gister ar·
a higher theoretical level, gMng the world back to the subject bon this
rime a.< idea. The dialectical Nists and turns by which this is
a<:rompUshcd an: weU known. The .~bsolutc m""~ be: • subject, since
otherwise it would suffer determination from the outside and thus
cease to be absolute . Therefore •'"")thing t.hat ex.i<ts is • subject; but
this cannot be so, as there t"3n be no subject without an obit•ct. Then:
must, therefore, be objects; but these objects must be peculiar kinds
of subject. If th.is is a contr.ldiction, that is hardly a thought Hkely to
disturb such a mighty dialectician.

Hegel writes in his Pnface to the Pltarommology ofSpirit that be is not

concerned with relating the work to the cin:umsunces which
surround it. This, the usual busints.< of prefaces, would be so much
Cl<l1aneous chit·chat, inimioalto the uni•·tfSaJ, self-mlidating eharnt~er
of a pi!Uooopbical S)'Siem. If such a system Is to be complete, then the
dnmininn it exens over the world must be deployed 2t the same saroke
over its own preconditions. A discourse of absolute knowledt:c woold
otherwise never be able to get oft' the ground, since whatever it
launches off from is rendered in that act :anterior to itself, and so
extrin<ic to its hegemony. Simply by stoning_, such a work risks
jcopanlizins its own tr.moc4'1ldcntal stllliS, undcr~ulting its own
cblms in the VCI)' act of enunciating titem. The system, it seems, must
somehow ulway< alrew:ly have begun, OT at l""st hong in some
perpetual present, ut1c-rly coc:val with itS ubjc:t:L It must in SOI11<: sense
t:d:c on· froJU a point idcnlical with itSelf, opening llsclf to the world
without for :a moment relinquishing rhis intimate §.tlf·invol\'emenl;
yet if 1 <fueoursc is to begin from nothinJ: what.soc>·cr, •'pring self-
complete from its own depths, how would it ever come to enu11ciate
nn)thing but its own act of soying? How could its cootent ever be
anything but its form?
To say th.!t an absolute srs-em must !like off from itself is
equivaleat to claiming that the first postulate which founds it, and
sUStains it throughout, is nothing less than tbe pure act of theorizing
itself. The postulate of the work must be Implicit In It\ own acr of
enunctnioo, a.s indis.sociahte from it as ae.sthetic content from
aesthetic fonn. What is this first postulate that we can ne\·er go back
beyond? For J. G. Fkbte in T1u Sam« ~KIIiJr»kt/ge, It can only be the
subject. For though I can itoagine something behind ·the subject

126
wbidt posits it, the fact "'mains that it is I, the subje<t, who am doing
the imagining. The subject = ne\'Cr gcr a !fip on i.,;clf from the
outside, since it would already need to be a subject ro do so, and this
outside would thus have b<-comc an inside. Like some dizl)ing vista
dwindling to infinity, the .subject stn:tches back endles<ly before :ill
conteivable beginning, intolerant of aU origin. 'Self-consciousness',
as Schelling writes in his ::.)sran of TMmmulmral ldttJli1m, 'is the
source of light for the entire system of knowkdgt, but it shine< only
forwanl. not backward ... In the act of self-positing, for Ficbte and
SchrBing, I know myself as infinite and absolute; and since
tnmscendcntol phiicJoophy is nn more than a complex elabomtinn of
that act, its founding absolute principle is the w:ry gesture of self·
coMciou,...,.,._, itJelf. The whole thcoMiieal enterprise becomes no
more than a reprise of that primordial, inconr:rovenible act by which
the subject posits itscl£, a metaphor of that infmitc moment in which
the subj~ ceaselessly emerges and "'·emerges into being. What
philosophy says is thus identical ..;th wbat it does, its form and
content quite indistinguishable, its cons12ti'le character at one ..;th iu
perfonnative practU:e.. Theory L' a living image of whot it speak.• of,
panicipa~S· in what it reveals, and is thus a kind of Romantic symbol
in dlscursive pro.\e:.
Ifthe founding postulate of • system is to be absolute, then it must
escape aU objectification and so cannot be in any way determinate.
For such a principle to be determinate would imply oome ground
beyond itself from which it cotdd be determined. thus ruining iu
absolute s12tus at a stroke. The subject is exactly tbis point of puJC
self· detenninalion, this 'thing' sprung eternally from its own loins
which is no thing at .U but sheer unconoeptuolizable process,
infinitely in excess ofany degraded given. But if this is the case, how
does this irrefutable first principle not simply stip through the net of
knowlcd1c, leaving theory resting on !IOibing at .U? How C'ltll
philosophy lind sure anchorage in this elusive spe<IM of a subject,
this slippory parody of a phenomenon wbich is gone as soon as we
give n:une to i1, this unth•'tlri<ablo source of all our ..:tions whil:h
seems fully present in none of theml How is the transcendental
philosoplu:r noc to end up clotchins emply air e<'u:h lime he tries to
round upon that which is the very unthinkable condition oflli!i efloru,
and which in knowing - in rendering determinate - he would stri\e
dead? Is such tnmstendental thought anything more than an
127
impossible hauling of one~lf up by one's own bootstraps, a farcically
self-undoing attempt to obj~ft a subjectivity which, simply to be
"'bat it Is, must give the slip to all objecthity? All l:nowledge is
founded upon a coincidence of subject and object; but such a claim
cannot help slldiDg a disabting d~ between the two In the ,.cry act
of announci.ng their felicitous marriage. Knowledge of the self as an
object canoot be l:nowlr:dgc of it as a thing, for this would be to >1rikc
determinate and conditiON! the very unconditio!UI first principle of
all philosophy. To know the self is inslaody to undercut its
rransccndental authority; not to know it. howC\cr, is to be left with the
vacuous tranSCendence of a C)'J)her. Philosophy requires an absolute
ground; ~~ if such a ground must be indeterminate it CllD!l()l be
determined as a ground. We are confrontr:d, it would seem, "'ith a
Hobson's choice between meaning and bclng, either destroying nur
fir~ principle in the act nf pnsses.sing it, nr preserving it ooly in
abysmal ignorauce. The only way out ofthis dilemma would be a fonn
of objectifying knowledge coterminous with, even coruritutlve of, the
self - a cognitive power by which we could generate objectivity from
the very depths of the subject without for a momcat endangerlag Its
self-identity, a knowledge which would mime rbe very strucrnre of the
s.obje<1 itscl(, rdtearsing the ttt:mal drama by which it brings itself
into being.
This uniquely privileged form of cognition is the snbject's intuitive
presence to itself. For Ficbte, the subject is oo m""' than this
inexhaustible process of self-positing; it exists exactly in so fir as it
app<ars for itself, its being and self-l:nowing wholly identical. The
subject becomes a subject only by positing itself as an object; but this
act remains entircl)' within the enclosure of its subjectivit)', and only
app<ars to escape it into otherness.. The object as such, cotnm<nt.<
Sc:belling, wnisbts into the act.of knowing; so that in this primordial
subject-object we glimpse a kind of reality which, far from preceding
the subject (and so dlslndging It from It< transcendental staru.•), is its
v<:ry cvnstituU.e slruCtun:. The sdf is that :;pocial ' thing' which is in
no way Independent of the act of l:nowing it; It constirutes wlut It
cognizes, like a poem or novel, and like the work· of an too its
determinate content is inseparable from the crc-:nivc act of positing it.
just as the determinate objectivity of the anefact is oo more than the
self-gener.•ti•e process by which ,.,bj~'liviry emergtS into bcing, so
the self is that sublimely suucturin! source which will come to know

128
 TNt WORt.n A$ ArrtFACT

each of its determinate a.~cts as mere transient moments of its

inJinite self-positing.
Since this infiniu: sdf-produc"lion is the •cry cs.cncc uf the
subject's freedom, philosophy, wbicb repealS the act by which the self
comes to k:nuw itself, is an emandpatory praxis. 'Freedom1 , ~·rites
Schelling, 'Is the ooe principle on which everything is supponcd'; and
objective bring i• no harrier to thi'l, since 'that which in all other
systems threatens the downfall of freedom is here derived from
freedom m.,tf'.' Being, viewed in this li8J>t, is merely 'freedom
suspended'. PMosophy is thus in no sense contingom 10 its object,
but an cascntial pan of its s<if-anic-ulation. for it is philosophy which
will show bow the objccri..-e being which the free subject experiences
as constraint is in fact a nece-Ssary condition of its infinity, a sort or
boondcdness or finitude posited by the subject only to be dynamically
surpassed. In the act of self-consciousness, tbe subject is infinite as
kno~r but knows itself as tinite; but such finitude Is essential to iJS
infi.niry, since, as Fichre argues, a subiect which h<~d overcome
objectivity as a whole by fully realizing its freedom would merely
cancel itself out, hl\ing nothing any longer 10 be conscious of.
In lhe oct of theory, then, tile subject :mains 10 its deepest self-
knowledge, b'-coming more cm"fllially and authentically what it
already is; and transcendental dlsco.mc is thus an ethica~ even
existential praxis rather than a fusty set of theorems, a liberalory
action in which the self comes to experience •t the le\·el of full self-
awa...,nes< wlut was implldt in Its lnmoSI &rructure all along.
Philosophy merely writes large doe founding gesture of lhe. subject's
free self-production, achie\ing its absoluteness by miming an unerly
uncunditiontd reality of which it is the expressi'o symbol. Just as this
o-ansccndcntll subjectivity is quite unknowable from the outside - is,
indeed, pure process or acrivity, a son of ,-.heer contentles.• quicksilver
energy - so philosophy itself can only be known in the doing, can
validate itself only in the formal process of its self-production. We
know the truths of philosophy, OS we know the transcendental nature
of subjectivity, because we dr< it and Jo it; so that theory is just a kind
of catching our.;clves in the acr of being subjects, a deeper
appmprialion ofwhat we already""'· The subject's act of transcendental
freedom groutllb lhe !))'~tern, but not IJ.S some c~ncc sepamblc rrom
it, since this would iostandy discredit the system's aspirations to
absolute self-ideority.lr is rather that this grounding is the system's

129
own free selr-production, the ' 'elY form of its cuMIIg bllct upon
i~lf, the gesture by which ir spin.s itself at every point out of its own
guts. The fliSI postulate of the phi!vsophy cam101 be contended over,
as this would be the ruin of its primaq; it c:annor be thrust down to
the lowly Sl:otus of tl1t conditiooed and controversial, but must have
all the intuitive sdf-<'\iden<:c of the fact !hat I am at this very DIODJeDt
txpcrienciug. As this principle is gradtllllly unfolded in the discursive
intricacies of theoretioo argument, we shall beoome aware that it has
oe>er for a moment ceased to cling to the interiority of itself, that
everything which can be derived from it was implicit in it from the
uul!;t;l, and that we ate pacing the circumfcn.-m:c of an enormous
circle which is =tly the circle ofour m•;n free .. tf-posiriog. We are
dunking about ourselves d1inking, rehearsing in tlte "try fonnal
structuK of our acts of n:ading the mighty memes which tie beiOn: us
on the page • .It is the dr.tnL1 of ourselves !hat we find mirrored. there,
but now raised to the dignified level of pure self-consciousness,
transparently ar one both with the act of philosophical enunciatiort
itself, and wid1 the praxis by which !he whole world comes to be. The
posndatc of trallsccndenlal freedom is one which, as bod! f'ichte and
Schelling remark, we must share already for any of this discourse ro
m•ke the slightest sense: we have already been in on this •rgumcnt,
and if we have succeeded in undcntandinJ it by !he lime the
Conclusion arrives ir is because we have alwa~ been undersunding it
already.] ust os we know our fr..,dum only by en:.cting it, fur anything
we could objcctil)' in a concept would by that token not be freedom,
so we gmsp lhis argt~~Nnt io lhe act ofperforming it, and could say no
more than we could of a poem or painting h.ow .its referential force is
separable from lhe shape of its enunciation. Philosophy Is not SMit
report. 011 human freedom bUI the very pnoctice of it, showing what it
s~u:s; since freedom is not some possible object of cogrdtlort, It can
be manifested only in the act of mind which refers to it. The con\•Ot
uf the th<'Ory, as with the am: fact, is indeed in that >cnsc its form: it
does what it deso:ribes, inscribes tbe uasayable in its '·ery suucrure,
and by bringing the reading subject to a ccnain sdf-illuminalioo
validates itself in the very process of its own construction. Philosophy
fashions its 0\\11 object as it goes along, rather than rem:alnillJ
slavishly reliant on some set of premises removed from the mastery of
its writing: 'me whole science', as Schelling comments, 'is concerned
only with irs CN'D free construction'}• Theory is a self-consuming

130
 THE WORLD .<5 ARTU'ACT

artefact, mikins itsdf ...,dundant in the very act of bringing the

subject to absolute self-knowlcdg~.
This is to say that the sclf-ref=ntiality of Kant's ethical subject or
work of art has now been projected into the very stl'llcture of cognitive
argwnent, which is always curled up on its own tail. It is as though the
Kanli.an text is still suuggling to handle in re•list or represenration:al
style rbar unerly unrepresentable 'thing' which will finally be
encircled only by a break to full-blooded philosophical ' modemlstn'-
ro the kind of theoretic-•! work u'hich, like the symbolist poem,
JCl<tatcs itself up cntirdy out of its 0\\n substance, projects its own
referent out of its formal dco.ices, escape<~ In its absolute self-
groundedness the slightest taint of el<temal detemlination, and takes
itself as Its own origin, e2usc and end. The self-validating practical
5Ubjecr of Kant's philosophy is cranked up through several gears to
the act of cognition itself. Karat's own t'3rcfully discriminated
discourses- of pure and pr.11:tical reason, ancl'of aesthetic judgement
- are t'C!nflatrtl together at a stroke: theuretical reason, Sch.Uiog
remarlcs, is simply imagination in dte service of freedom. fichte, for
his pllrl, "ill rake the Kmtian mor:al subject and project it into a kind
of dynamic revolutioruuy B~'ID . And dtis whole openrion, so
Kant's successoB would claim, is enabled by a fatal aporia in the
Kaorian sys~em itself. For that system can be reod as both implying
and failinl! to thcmatizc a knowlcdgt of the ego which would be
neither logicol nor empirical - just as it refuses to concede that •
knowledge of how subject and objl'CI interact. ro produce cognition
must itself somehow be absolute. Kant, from this viewpoint, has failed
to push the is5ue back far enough; und his inheritors, seizing wi th
alacrity on this apparent lapse of thcorc:dcal nerve, ,.;u accordiDgly
fall one by one over the edge i.nto the ullyss of transcendent.JI
intuition. Kant has dclivc'fl:d us a Nature from which it is impossible
to derive value, which must consequently become an end in itself; but
some urhis SUl'OI!SSOfS will, SO tu speak, putth;at wftofe prcx.:ess into
reverse, mode~ Nature itself after the freely self-generative
subject, and thus grounding that subject in a world wbose slniCt\lre it
shares. As a little work or art aU in itself, its fom1 and conttnt
miraculously unified, the subject is microcosmic of that more
imposing aesthetic toulity which is the uni\'erse.
For Ficfttc, the ego is a tcndcnt'Y to ac1hity for its own sake; but
when it reHects upon itself, it recognizes that this self-acti\iry is

131
subject to a law- cbe Jaw of detennining itself in accordance with the
notion of self-determination. Within the ego, then, law and freedom
are insc:pamble: to think of oneself as free is to be compelled to think
of one's freedom as falling under a Jaw, and to think that bw Is to bt
com1>eDed to think one•elf free. A.< in the artefact, freedom aod
neccssity coaleS« into a unirary structure. What hss happened here is
that the imagination, which plays a certain role in Kont's pure reao;on,
l.,s been grossly expended in function. For Kant himself, the
im•gination pro•ides an answer to tbe problem of how tbe data of
scn~c intuition become subsumed under rhe pure concepts of the
lUlderstanding, for these two realms •ppear quite betcrog.:nc'Ous to
one atlQtbcr. h is hen: that the imagination intcrvcn<:s as a mediatory
power, producing rhe 'schemar,a' which in rum produce the im3ges
which regubte the process of applying the c:ttegories to ;oppe:uaoces.
Fichtc assigns to the imagination a considerably more central role,
finding in it the very source of our belief in a world independent of
the ego. Fichtt's megnlomaniac philosophy of the ego has an evident
problem in explaining why, empirially speaking, ""' acwally believe
in the oistence in a =lity independent of our consciousness; ond
1his come-s abcur, so Fichu! argues, because there is within the
absolute ego a kind of spon12neous, unconscious force wbich
produces the ;·cry idea of that wl>ich is non- <go. The absolute ego
sum~hc:M· ~l)Qntaueously lin1il$ its own restless a4;th·it)' and pV$itS ilSelf
" ras-•ively affected ~· an object outside itself; and tbe power by
,d. id r i1 docs this ~ the imagination. Fichte an then go ahead and
•.kJue:. .· rlu: ~1tntian categories. from this founding imaginative act: if
•pparcntl)' ••nonomous objectS arc posited, lhcn a spat<: and time
mu.,; also be positd for them to inhsbit, as well os our mcaru of
l'onc.:eph.lally dctennining wh•t they are. Pure reas()l'l or ernpiri.r.al
knowledge, in shon, can now be dem·ed &om the rranscendental
imagination; ;ond lhc Yme is rrue of practical n!ason or morality. For
t1u: 'f•biccl~l • world or Nature which 1he imagination posits is also
necessary for that incessant sttiving of the cs<> which for f'icbtc i• the
basis of aU ethical ocrion; one could not speak of the ego as 'striving'
unless it encountered some kind of dteck, and the external world is
posited to pwd de it. The egoju/s its impulses inhibiced by something
appurcntll h<\ood it.<elf, and it is this feelingwbich is tbertfon: at tbe
root of our bL.Jief in • real world. Realicy is established no Iunger
through theoretical knowledge, but tbrOIJ!b a kind of sentiment; and
132
 THE WOIU.V AS AKr£FACf

f1cb1c bas 10 Ibis eXIcm aestbeticized the very possibility of

lmowledge. Our knowledge of the world is just a kind of spin-ofT of a
more fundamcnral unco!J!iCiou> tbrcc; behind the prcscnratiom of tbc
understanding lies a 151>0ntlncous 'drive 10 presenration'. Moral life,
in a similar way, is o kind of higher d"'·elopment of these unconscious
inslincts, in an interesting anticipation of Sigmund Freud. h thus
becomes possible In deduce everyrhing there i< - the e>temal world,
moralil)', the categories of the understanding- from !he spontaneous,
uncor>Seiou< drives of the absnlurc ego, ar the ha.<is of which ,..•
dis(:ovcr the imaginalioo. Tite whole world has its root in an Rt.s!hctic
source.
Friedrich Schelling, who starts out as a disciple ofFidlle, becomes
increasingly discontented with his mcnror's drastically one-sided
philosopy of subjecriviry. For to be a subject must surely entail being
condilioueil by an object, and in this sense !he conscious subjcti itsdf
cannot be an absolute. 1'1chtc, in olher words, is unable to break out
of tho: vidous circle of .U ~teories of the subject's identity with itself
as a rellmed object: if the subject is able 10 recognize its
obi<ctification as its ""''"• then it mlLst somehow already know itself,
and what was to be established is rhus presupposed. It is not dear in
any ea~ hnw such theories are 10 avoid •D in6oite regress, as Fichte
hitnst:lf was 10 come to acknowledge: 10 distinguish the 'I' thai thinks
from the 'I' lhougbt about would seem to posit a funhcr 'I' which is
able to do this, and ;o on indefinitely.' Schelling consequently
relt'eats to the notion of an absolute reason or identity which
tr:lnscends !he dualiry of subject and object altogerher as an
' indifference' to both, and which can itself never be objcL-tifi<:d. This
absolute then appears as a kind of unconscious force at work in the
consdous subject; but in the objective idealism of Schelling's
Naturphil•sopAi< it become> equally the essence of .U objective beins;
and what mos1 supremely incarnates this absolute idenrity, prior to all
subja."t-object division, is art itse.lf.
F'or the ScheJJing of lhe S)11<m •fTrans&mdmwlltlealism, the only
place in the world where we c:m find a tru<: obj ectificalion of that
,.intellccrual intuition' by whicb ~1e self produces itself ;,; the
aesthetic. 'The objcctillc world', Schelling v.'l'ites, 'is simply the
original, as Y<t unconscious pnetty of the •ririt; the universal org:tn0l1
of ph~osophy- and the kt)'Stone ofits entire arcb- is th< phi/4sr;phJ of
tm... Tbc ordilwy subject in the world would seem cripplingly split

133
 between conscious and unconscious: only that part of me "itich is
Jirnhed is pre..~nt rn my consciousness, where;tS the limiting nctivity of
the SubjeCt itself, pr<cisdy b"'-'1tUSC il is the L'1lUSC Of all SUch
coNtraint, is bound to faD out of reprcM:ntttion as an unspeakably
transcendent power.[ am oware only of my own boundedness, not of
the act through "ilich that is posited; it is only in limiting itself that
the qo can come to be, bot since it can thus only know itself as
JiJllited, it cannot in this way come to be for itself. Like bourgeois
society as • whole, me self is tom between Its restless, unrepresentable
pnoductlylty anti thn<e detenninate produCTs (acts of self-positing) in
wbicb it finds and looes itself siluultaneously. There is an aporia at the
•ery bean of the subject whleh thmns 111 complete self-identity: at
once sheer empty energy and detenninate product, the self can kn<>W
tlu.t it is bountlcd but is puzzled to know h(Jflt, since tO know h.,..·
would entaD grasping itself from some subjcctless e¥tcrior. Without
limimtion there could be no becoming, anti hence no freedom, but
the meciwlisms of !his process remain srubbomly uninrulrable.
Philosophy must therefore culminate in some concrete recondiution
of this dilemma, and the name of this unil}' is an. In an, the
unconscious acts through aDd identically with consciousness; aod lbe
aesthetic inNilloo is thus a unique material representati<>n of
intellectual intuition in general, • prO<= by which the subjcctm:
cognition of philosophy becomes Itself objectijjed. 'Art', writes
Schdlng, 'is at once the only rrue and etornal organon of philosophy,
which ever and ogain continues to speak to w of what philosophy
cannot depict in external fonu, namely the UDCODSCious element in
acting •nd producing, and its origiJtal identity with the can....'iollS.'' At
the very peak of its power.;, philosophy must logicaUy tiquidate itself
into aellthedcs, reoersing its forward momeDtUJD and flowing back
into the poelr)' from which it ,..,. .long ago bum. The pbilosophical is
no lllfJrc than a self-cffariog uack from one poetic condition to
another, a temporary S!>"Sm or contortion in the efflorescence of
spirit.
lntleed Schelling's Syrtmo, as it nears irs own closure, enacts this
very rhythm of retwll:

We therefore close with the foD.,..'ing obscm1ion. A

system is completed when it is led back to Its starling point.
But this is precisely the case with our own. The ultimate

134
 THE WORLD .\S ARTEFACT

ground of all harmony between subject and object could be

C>hibited in its original identity only through intellecnml
intuition; and it is precisely this l:Jt>Und which, by me:~us of
the work of an, bas been brought forth entirely from tbe
.~uhjocti..,, and rendered whnlly objective, in such wise,
that we baYe gradually led our object, tbe self itself, up to
the very point where we ounclves were s12nding when we
bepn to philosophise. ••

Ha.ing arrived at the no1ion of the work of an, itself tile most
cxcmplaty objcctilication of subjectivity, Schelling's text mll5t logi<:ally
close its own circle and curve back upon itself, becoming iL~ own self-
sealing artefact in the very act of speaking of an. By culminating in
lbc wor:k of an, philosophy doubles back on iiS own abstnct
!;Ubjeclivism, returning to thar rubject sporuanenu.'lly objectified in
dte wocld which ..... s dte stBtting-point of S\<Ch reflections. At the
&onticr where it sublucs itselfinto art, philosophy Oips itself over and
rejoins that intellectual intuition from which it originally took off. An
is superior to philosophy because wheras the latter ara>l"' ubjcctivity
from within its own subjeai•e principle, the formc:r renden this
whole process objective, raises it to the second power, performs it in
reality as philosophy enactS it 1\ilhin tbe arcane recesses of spiriL
Philosophy may unite subject and object within its (Win depths, but
these depths muat then themsclvo;s be com:rcttly cxt•-rnalizcd. And
this 'must' is, omong other things, •n ideological imperative. For the
pbin fact oftm matter is tbat tbe ordinary subject·in· tbe-street is not
quite up to tbe mytttries 00" Schellingi.m phllosophlzing, and s1ands
in need ofsome more sensuously representational embodiment ofit if
irs rcCOilcillng I'O"'tr Is to be cft«tivc. !Is a materially objective
medium, art is a RlOI'I' uniwrsally awibble instance of inteUectual
intuition than philosophy itself, which for Schelling can nC'>·er as such
become v.idcly current. lntcllccrual inlllilion Is confined to philosophy
alone, and males no :appearance in ordinary consciousness. wlwre;~s
art· ooncretely figures it forth. at least in principle, for cocryonc. Take
sensuous objectivity from an and it falls to tbe rank of philosophy;
add such ob;ectivity I<> philosophy and it riS<S to over.:ome itselfinth•
aesthetic. Art, commentS Schening in Scttillerian phrase, bclmlgs to
the 'whole man', whereas philosophy brings only a fraction of him
with it to its lofty summit. To go bC)ond philosophy is thus in a sLnsc

135
10 r<lun> 10 lhe quo1idia1~ with art as lhe indispensable relay or
mediation bctv•ecn the two.
The aesthetic.. 1ha1 is 10 say. brings theory home to everyday social
experience liS ioc~mulc ideulot:r, lhe place where all this fmc-drawn
obscurantist brooding fleshes itself 0111 ill spoDWleous wulerswuling.
Bu1 if this is true, i1suspends • huge question mart over the whole
sl3rus of theory itself. Rcasun, like SdtcOing's uwn n:xt, ends up by
immolating itseU; self-destrUcts and disappears into Its own sealed
circle, k.iclts away !he conceptual ladder which, os in Wiugenstein's
Tmtlillut, it has so laboriously climbed. This is not to ""Y that
Schelling's own philosophy is unnecessary, since only by the detour of
lheory will we be led to acrede 10 theory's necessary dellli$e, walching
il rum i1s own weopons against hself. Nor is it to soy that cognlri""
reason is finally ousted by aesth.elic imuition, since il wo.s 1hat, in
dTcct, all along. Indeed !he irony of 1he entire project is that r<-a>on,
to be sufficiently .self-grounding, must be modeUed from the outset
on lhe aeslhetic, a 'guamnlee' of absolu~eness which suc-ceeds only in
struing it cmpiy. But it is to say that once we han read Schelling we
really have no more aced for philosophy - that bl~ system, like
Hegel's a: little later, in this s.:.ns:e exerts its inexorable dominion over
dtc future as weU as the past.

Hegel, as is weU known, pans ~- with Schelling's full-blooded

ae.~dtericlzarlon of reason, contemptuoo.<ly dismissing his portentous
'intuiti<ln' as lhc nigh! in which all cows arc black. To lapse inlo such
rhapsodic ramblings ('fi<1irious creations tbat are neither fish nor
Res!>, neither poetry nor philosophy', Hegel grumbles) is to insult tbe
dignily of bourgeois reason, a defeatist surrender to tbe fear that the
world may not after aU be rationally intelligible. If that is so, then the
bourgeoisie mighl as weD obandon iiS inlel.tectual enlerprise before i1
has properly begun; and Romanrici>m seems to Hcgt:l a dreadful
illslallce of such dteorelieal suicide. His own philosophy, by contrast,
represents • last-diu:h, el.,enlh-boolf, fuO-dress anompr to redeem
society for r:ttionalily -lo do aU !hat his intuitionist colleagues do and
mon:, yet to do it finuly fiom within tbe slatldpoint of reason. Kanr
bas OJlll"rently cut the real world off front .knowledge; Fichle and
ScheDing have restored it, but only in the vagaries of intuition; Hegel
\\ill strive to redeem tbe world and knowledge sirouluneousiy. If the

136
 THE WORLD A.~ AIITF.F.4CT

bourgeoisie is to establish itself as • truly univCJ"Sal class, at the lcvcl

of culture a.s mll•:h as of politico! and oconomic practice, then the
ucuously sclf-...JidariDg absolutism of a 1.-!Chte or Schellillg is not
only IMlC ideologic:ally sufficient; it also has an ominous ring, in a
rather different register, of that dogmatic absolutism which !he whole
project of bourgeois enlightenment arose to vanquish. Phikl<ophy is
in need of some surer fuurl<Lttion; and the problem with intuition is
mat it is surer than anything In one sense and pathetically feeble in
another. Nothing could be more ineluctable, self-evident, close to the
eyeball; and nothing <ithcr could be more quirky, Jrl!Uitous and
undemonsttable. Irs \'try force setmS instpQrable frnm its uner
emptiness; it merely is, which is at once its seductive power and its
embarrassing uselessness. It cannot be gainsaid, bur only beeause
there is oothing arriculote enough to be contradicted. In a complex,
contradictory society. where contentions over value have become
notably intense, the bourgeoisie yearns for the sobce of the apodictic;
but this v.ill only be found at a point of formalist abstraction so
tenuous that it vanishes ins131ldy into iu own purity. AchJC\'lng yoor
g011l and falling shnrt of it thus occur in the same instant. Nobad)' is
going to b<>tbcr dissenting o~r a bla.n.t space; we are aU united at mat
sublime point where absolutely nothing is at stake, where what we
experience, as in the Kantian aestlu:tic~ is just the very abstract forms
of our consensus, uncontaminated by any potentially di•isi•<e content.
For a theoretiatl S)'Stem to ground itself in such a spoce may render it
com'l!niently invulnerable to counter-argument, but only because it is
left hanging precariously in a void. To say that one's system L< rooted
in transcendental intuition comes cmbarras>'ingly clusc to saying that
it is rooted in nothing at 311 - that the farm31 emptiness af the self-
justifying Kantian moral subject has been generalized throughout the
system's very lem:r, to the point where absolute self-groundedness is
indistinguishable froru pointless tautology. Such theories pivot on a
central blankness and so curve consnmdy back on themsciV«, in•'iting
u~ to admire them as we -..'Ould admire some intricatdy self-
SIIJ'>I'Orting formation of acrobats whose dubious ttiumph is precisely
that they might at any moment come clancring to the pound.
It Is hard for any theory in\'Dking the cl>.im of absolute intuition to
avoid a certain appe:nance of stlf-conrradi<:tion. For the 6nal truth
which it wiU deliver us seems unavoidably at odds with the texrual
labour dc.oted ta disclosing it, tn the pnint where we cannot help

137
!nJSfl"cting tlut ifthl1labour .,,.. indeed nec.,.,.ry, then the absolute
cannot be as ineluctable as aU th•t. In the doubled, reveatingl
conc.:aling rhythm uf the symbol, the writing which uncovcn ultilrurtc
truth ca!UIOI help but occlude it too, pedantic.illy tracing in
postlapsariun time what secretly belongs to eternal immediacy. In this
scns<:, the absolute would seem distanced from us by tbe •ery
ruscourse .. nt out in its pursuit. The fact that we have need of such a
discou= in the first place already suggests that sumething bas gone
awry, that philosophy comes about because of a Fall which It repeats
in the very act of trying to repair. If aU were as well as the theory
suggests, then why 11te we readin~r at all, n1ther than ju:."t revelliug in
the rich plcniwdc of our !ntullions? lf philosophy emu, then we can
alre:ttly deduce at least one otller existent, namtly contr.rdiction or
&ls<: cuns<iuu;nc-s> as its essential pre-condition. But if that is so tben
no philosophy can be absolute, since the very oppearance of it
indicates that in relarion to which it is inevitably belated. \lllrat need
would there be for science at all, if reality were not alre•dy fissured
and fragmented in ordinary con.o;ciotl!;ness?
Hegel's pbUosophy is among many other things a superbly cunning
riposte to tills dllemma. That there is coniHct Is JJUdt clear by
philosophy's very existence; indeed Hegel himself remark.. thor
division is the souro: of d1e noed for philosophy. But philosophy will
rcvcal that such dlremptlons :arc inhcr<:nt In the very truth it has to
deliver, rhus pro.iecting irs own historic:.t conditions iruo its q1irirual
>-ubstanoc. What brought us tu this philosophy in the first p!oce- the
fact tbat we were sunk in some miasma of false consciousness,
stumbling around fO< a likely e~it - was ah...ys already secredy
foreseen by it, as the very tan:fed pathway by which it would bring us
patiently to itselr. As in Freudian theory, these errors and blindnesses
belong to the very trajectory of truth, and are to be worked through, in
that lherapeutic process known as reading tbe works of G. W. f .
Hegel, rather than ausrerdy repressed:

In the. course ofiu process the Idea cre2n:s that illusion, by

st.ning an antithesis to confront i1~ and iu action consists in
getting rid of the iUusion which it has crested. Only out of
this error does the truth arise. In this fact lies the
reconciliation with error and with 6nitude. f.rror or other-
being, when super.edcd, is still a nec-essary dynamic

138
 THt II.'ORLD AS ARTIFACT

element oftnlth; for truth. an only be where it mokes itself

its OMt result.11

Truth is not just the constative pro(l(l'ition< oftheoret~ enquiry but

the rhetorical performance of the theory itself, entirely at one with its
subtlest coruortions and OCC3Sional cul·de-sacs, a practice rather than
an at..1ractablc statement. The Absolute Idea has alrtady charitably
included the reader's reiJYjng illusioM and shaky grasp orlogic "ithin
itself, and thus always takes ofT from a point preceding OOih the
reader ond the entire history which went into his or her making. If
philosophy is famously belated, the owl of Minerva which lakes flight
only at dusk, it is simply because the historical drama it recapitulates
requires its 0\1>11 fuR-dress entry as on octor onto me s<ene ~nly at •
rdatively late point, for reasons tbe Absolute, as dirertor of the entire
theme, has foreseen from the beginning.
If diwision and contradiction are ess•nrial moments of lhe Idea's
stately unl\.uiing through time, lhcn it is because Hegel has subsumed
the hi<torieol conflicts which nece.sitare his meory, and so threaten to
rdativizc it, into tbe theory itself, ~-omerting its precondition> into its
''Cli' dialectical fonn. The PltmMtmo/Qg r(MinJ is lhus doomed to
repeat the 1'1!1)' negations its slri""s to overcome; and every reader of
the text will have to et~Xt this process afresh, in !hat ceaseless
repetition which L< now all that L< left. of philosophy. Rut this
pcrfOlTIWIL'C is itself an =entia! part uf Grist's global sclf-apa.mio.n,
a post-history of me t<Xf determined by its very letter, a nec=ary
constituent of Spirit's arrival at fuD self-<:U11S4.'iuosness in lhe mirror
of the readlr\s subject's mind. In this sense, the c:onstative dimension
of the work is not at all at odds, ho~ver much it might at first.appear
so, with the pcrformativc labour of tracking lhcsc issues through
discursive time. There is no need lOr any fooll<h R001antic fear that
to articulate the Absolute. is in that moment to disaniculatc it, since
the Absolute, as the identity of identity and diiTercnce, knows !hat
only by sLOCh internal rending or reading " 'ill it evtr be whole. lfit is
trw: that theory is only necessary be<:ause of false conscioosncss, it is
equ.Uy trw: that falst consciousness is itself nece=ry, so that
philosophy is instanlly redeemed from all)' mortly conlingent status.
Hegel's work L1kes otffrom loss and W:k, but will demonlltnte by its
ways of lilling them in ju>1 how inlrinsic to po!>itivity such negotion is.
The whole philosophy is historically essential, itself part of the

139
 upward eY<>Iution of Spiril, a fr« but tktcrmincd moment of praxis
.,;thin the global praxis It both describes and mimi£$; but to secure
itself thus in an historical ground is not to !.y itself upen to external
dctc:rminotion, since this histozy is itself the product ofthe vezy Spirit
which impels its 01\U di!alurse, and so is included within itself. The
Hegelian !ext is thus <'Onstative in its very performativeness: it is
exactly in ils self-referential consll'Uetion of iu own principles that it
manifests how the world is, for the ,...,rld is just like this too.
Philosophy springs from the same rooc as reality itself, and so in
cuning bact medltatl\-dy upon its own construaion delil'<r< us th.e
inner smtcltlre of everything that exisl>.
Such self-refi~c:ness is therefore just the appo.!ite of that oftht
modernist leKt, since although its illner strategies are deeply ironic, it
expels aU irony from its own relation to the real. The se.lf-gencrativc
nature of modernist wrltins implies a kind offouu J. mina: iltbe rext
authorizes its own discouJSe, then this, so it wzyly insinuates, is
be«usc no reliable bis1orical authorization can any Ianger be
a.<SU!IIed. The world I!; no longer stO<Y-sbaped, and !bus can prO'iide
no <m!mal determination of a textual form which is conscqucndy
thro'"ll back on its own de-rices, abandoned to the trapcomic
tautology of malcing itself up as it goes along. Self-grounding here is
just another name for IDUilasking the arbilrarincss of aU foundations,
dcmj'llil)ing the pn:sumptioa of some natural staning-point somehow
cued by the «zy structure of the given. The self-au~•oritiog
discount of idealism, by contrasl, hopes to mime the structure of the
given in mis very ~ture: the more broodingly autOielic Sttcb
language bccom•-s, the more rcsolulcly realist it grows. T bcrc can be
no ironic play bdwcen discourse aod histazy, precisely because the
former bas always already >'Wl!Uowed up the Iotter. To 511). that such
idealist pbilosophy has no determinable foundations is paradoxically
to grant it the deepest possible guarantee, since its foundariorl is then
identical with the Wldetuminable first principle of reality itself. In
swting from itself; the modernist worl: is ironlcaDy ROll-identical
with itself, since it proclaims i!S own incapacity to validate the truths it
bas to cOIIlJIIWlil;atc. It might always at any moment be something
eloe, and casrs the blighting •hadow of lhi• po._•ihiliry aero<< irs ac:tu2l
enunciation. For Hegelian dialectks, anythinf at all)! moment ac'tllally
is something else, but this is precisely the sign ofiu location within a
rational totality. To mink at aU for Hegel is profOIUldly ironic, since it

HO
 THE WORLD AS AIIT£FACT

invoh·es suppussing the particularity of the given with th• univ•rsality

of the concept, and viet t,..,...; but these loe2l ironies cannot add up i
14 rnndemi.vn ro <:>ne enonnous one, since in relation tO what would
the whole be ironic? T nnsccndcntal pbi!U>Ophy dues not validate
itselffo•te tk min<¥: if there is no authority to which it need appeal, it
is b-use it has alww)'S ~ady inttujected it.
1bc doubleness of Schelllngian iDtuidon Is that it is at once
experientially certain and ntionally discreditable; the ambiguity of
Hegelian reason is that it is internally coherent but notably hard to
feel. Both rnndels, then, have their strengths and drawbacks as
ideological paradigm,;. The problem for HCJCI is that, Ji'lcn the
grievous complexity and contradiction of social conditions, knowledge
of the whole can no longer be spontaneous; 1111d any project of rational
totalization will thus be forced into a coavoluted disc:ursivity which
threatens to Urnit its idmlilgial effec!Mnes&. In making the world
transparent to theory, Hegel run5 the: risk of maling theory opaque to
the world. We ha\'C left behind ancient Greece, a society which Hegel
likens to an mtefact, where a >']>Oiltall<ous knowledge of the whole
was still routiDely awilable. An immense dialectical labour is now on
the agenda; and Hegel in a !\ense does his job too well - too well at
least for Schelling's subjcct-in-lhc-srrcct, who is a Uak more Ukcly to
be imaginatively stined by art !han to take to the streets crying 'The
ntioml is the real!' or 'Long live lbc identity of identity and non-
identity!' This is not to claim that HegeBanism is incapable of
becoming a political force, ns Morx and !he Young Hegelians weU
enough demonstrate; but it is to susgcst a ccnain dlfficuhy mer !he
que<tion within the system of srnsuoos id..,logical representuion.
'Philosophy', so Hegel argues against &bd.ling, 'is of its vcey nature,
by \1rtue of iiS general mode of existence, available for IJII;" indeed
much of Hegel's oontempc for intuitionism >prings not only from a
fear that such dogmatic solipsism subverts all social bonds, but from
his belief !Mt only a determinate 5yltcm of thought can be properly
intelligible. Only what is perfec"lly tl•terininate in fonn, he argues in
the PlteMmmology r{Spiri~ is at the same lime ema:ric, compreben.<ible,
and capable of being leamcd and possessed by everybody. Hegel's
baroque lucubrations, ironically enougl~ m: intcntlcd to b.: in the
service of a general accessibility. Intuition, with .its 'horrified rejecrion
of mediation', is desperately esoteric and so ideologically crippkd
from the outset; the intelligibly dctcrmirultr, by contraSt, is common
141
to scientific and unscientific mind alike, thus, as Hegel comments,
enablillg the unscientific mind to enter the domain of science. Hegel
gravely undcresdmates the Ideological force &f Rnsuous represeru.atioo,
as the low status be assigns to art within his system itself testi~.
'The interruption by conceptual thouJJht of me habit of always
thinking .in figur.uive ideas', he writes testily in the Phnttmr..ol•l:J' of
Spirit, 'is as aDllO)'ing and troubling to this [rationalI way of thinking
3S to that ~offorn:W intelligence which in its reasoning rambles
about with no real thought to rea>an \\itb.'"
In this atmere Pro«estant iconocLum, Hegclrcve>ls himself as the
true heir of Immanuel Kant, who in • cdebrattd p:lSSOge from the
Crititpu 11{ J.J,mrml lilu:wisc >l'WDS the indignity of sensuous
r.,...,.•enlatlon from the depths of a senerous Wtb In common
ration ali1)1:

Pemaps there is oo more sublime pasuge in the Jewisb

Law than the couunandmen1: Thou shalt not make unto
thee any graven imase, or any lileness of any thing that is
in heaven or on earth, or under the. earth, err. Thi•
commandment can alone explain the enthusia.sm which the
jewish people, in their moral period, felt for their reli!Jion
when comparing them.5<'1ves with others, or the pride
iDspin:d by Mubammedanisru. The very same holds good
of our represen121ion of the moral law •nd &four nath..
capadty for morality. The fear that, if we divest this
representatioo of evefY!hinr that can commend it to the
senses, it will tmn:upon be attended only with a cold and
lifoless opprobalion and not with any moving fore;! or
emotion, is wholly unwunntcd. The very n:vcnc is the
truth. For when nothing any longer meets me eye of sense,
and the uutnisllkable and inetrace-Jble idea of morality is
left in possession of the field, there would be need rather of
ten•pering the ardour of ;m unbounded Imagination to
prevl.'lll it rising to enthusiltsm, than of seeking to lend
these ideas the aid of imase> and cltildish devices for fear
uf their heinrr wanting in potency."

ldeali..t phil050ph}·, like the commodil)l on which so many of its

categories are modelled, musl StiiT<r no u~nerate lapse into

142
 Ttu: WOilW AS .Url:FACT

sensuousness, remaining sternly aloof from the body. But if this is

pan of Its awesome aulhority - that It generateS Itself entirely out of
abstract rell!lon - it is also what would seem to limit its ideological
efficacy. The bourgeoisie would appear caught here between a
raoooal self-:lpologio too subtly discursive to find appropriate
;-.:n>uUUll r<-pn:>t-ntation, and an idcologi<'ally scdu<1ivc form of
immediacy (aesthetic intuition) which spurns all rigorous social
totalization and so lesves itself noably wlnerable. It is a dilr:nuna
remarked by Schlller, who commenrs In one of hl< essays that
'sensuous presentation is, viewed io one aspecl, ritA, for in cases
wh<rc only one condition is desil'l:d, a complete picture, an entirety of
conditions, an individual ~offered. But ,;....,d in another aspect it is
limit.d tmtl pour, be<'Uw;e it only confines to a single individual and a
single cue what ougtu to be understood as a whole sphere. It
therefore curtaas the understanding in the same proportion that it
graniS preponderance to the Imagination •• .'" Kant has left ultimJIIe
re:~lity unknowable, ethics a resoundingly hollow Ought, and organic
purposi\'eness a mere hypothesis of wte; Fichte and Schelling, as
thoogh aghast at the ideological dL<atr.~y into which they are thereby
plungt:d, COD\'ert Kaut's ethics into a concrete principle of revolutionary
freedom and his aesthetics Into a form of blowledge. But this <imply
means that they have spread inluition through the whole ufthe ,.·urld,
collapsing the cognitive into pure feeling. Hegc:l, then, must repair
this dire situ•rion, :avoiding •t once the bleakness of Kantian
underslanding and the suffocating intimacies of Romantic iniUition,
reuniting mind and world in a style of ln!IWiedge with all the analytic
rigour of the fo~r. but with something of the imaginative cnCJIY of
the laner. This form of t:no..·ledge is the higher reason, Ymtlln/1 or
di•lectics.
Willlin that dialet1ical sysrem, to be sure, Hegel will dexttrously
combine concrete and abstract, sen.•uou.• and spiritual, negating the
former terms only to reinstate them at a biper Je.eL But Ibis does Dot
acldc the question of the c011crete repr..entllbOity of the system
itself; and if the aesthetic is exemplary of such repn:sentatioo, then
Hegt:l refu$<5 that parti•-ular solution by consipiag an to a lowly
rung on the onmlogical ladder, below retigion and philosophy.
Aesthetic represento6ons for Hegel lack pbilos(Jphy's pure 11'011SpUCrlCy,
as their primary (material or allegorical) meanings tend to obscure
their ultimate signifieonce as expn:ssioos of Spirit. Indeed art for
143
Hegel is nl)l properly representational at all, but rather an intuitive
prcscntatioa which Cllpresscs a vision rather dlm imillltes m object. It
incarnates • senrunus awanness of the Absolun:, abolishing all
contingcn<:y and so showing forth Ccis1 in all i IS orgonic necessity. As
with Kant's aesthetic, this sensuousness Ia securelY non-libidinal,
freed from oil desire, • beauty whose otbe(Uise disruptive material
fore< is defused by the spirit which informs its cv.:ry part. This
intimate yet idealized body, material yet miraculously undM<Ud,
wordlessly immediate yet sh•ped aud Sl)'lized, is wbat Rom•ntkism
terms the symbol, and psychoanalytis the body of the mother. It is
therefore not surpris~ that Hegel 6nds something obscure and
enigmatic about this fonn of materiality, something within it trottblingly
resislllnt to the trnslucent power of reason. It berrnys its unsettlinJ
force most nb,iously in the 'bad infinity' of orienllll or Egwtian art,
tltat grot~sque spawning of matter, vague, groping and boundless,
wflieb lbreatcns In itS fantaStic hctcro~neity to swamp the pure spirit
like some nightmarish crearure of science fiction. Hegel finds siiCh
sublim< proliferation of matter distinctly unnening: within bis
system, this sbapdcss feminine srutT b redeemable only when
impregn:tted by rational form, neg:ared in irs material preseoce and
gathered into the inner unity of the Idea. Tire oriental sltlge of art is,
so to speak, the child smothered by a Oesb]y modler; in the
bannonious artef..:ts of ancient Greece, child and mother have
achieved some symmetrical unity; and at the higbl'St, Romantic stage
of art, when the almost disembodied spirit yearns for freedom from its
material enca.5ement, the child is in the process of definitively
OYercoming the Oedipal crisis and taking leave of the mother
ahogether. We do not, then, remain "ith the aesthetic for long, but
climb up a stage to religion, whicb stiU presents the Ab<;olute in terms
of images; and finally, if we can 5tlly the course, we rise to the rarefied
conc:eptual rcpre<entat:ioo.< of phllosophy itself.
Since the H egelian system never lea•es anything entirely behind,
however, the cbarms of art 111111 rclipoo do nut simply Occ at
philosophy's cold touch. They, and religion especially, rermin behind
tu pMidc what we might coD tbe ideology ofthis theory, its necessary
if inferior incarnation in •-veryday life. To aa:use Hegel of a
rationalism wholly inimical to ideologi<:al eiTcctiveness would be to
overlook the key role played in his S)'Stetn by religion. Retigion is the
unn·enal slill enmired in the sensual, but somewhat more successful
1+4
than an in Its obscure Slraiolng to coprurc lhe Absolute. II fulfils for
Hegel r.ro vital ideological functions which philosophy irself cannOf
properly perform: it oilers us !hat relation to the Absolute which is a
maner of feeling, he.ut and sensibility rather !han arid conceptuality;
and as a mltic aff:rir it belongs not simply to subje.:tivity but to the
'objective spirit' of institutionalized >Ocial practices. As ideology,
religion crucially mediates betwctn the affective and the practica~
providing lite ~Jl8Ce in which each nurtures !he other; and though the
political state mu.<r linally stand not on religious belief bur on the
firmly indepeo.lenr foundation of reason, it ne,·ertheless needs
religion as a cultic, affective, represen!alional domain, • realm of
ethical conviction in which rationol imperatives may strike an
instincrual chord. This task cannot be left to ethkal culture itself,
otherwise humanlry's relarion ro the Absolute woold remain narrowly
parochical, caught up with the _,., of a specific society. Religion for
Hegel is me medium in ..-hieh unM:rul uulhs of rwon arc
affectively reprcw.ted, and so pbr.; for him snmerhing of the role of
Kanr's ar:>tlu:tic judgement. Humanity, de>irous as it i:; to sec a sign,
will be wered for In the Ideological region by reUgious faith, of'Mik:h
philosophy is the. open secret.
If Hegel demotes the concept of the aesthetic to a humble position
in the evolution of Gmt, it is partly because, like Gramsci after him,
he shifrs the whole concept of 'culture' from its aesthetic to its
everyday or anthropological sense. He thus steals an imponant·
ad\'3n<e on K•nt, whose idea of cultural consensus remains largely
rooted in the narrownr:>S o£ aesthetic judgement, and su ID sume
extent institutionally disembodied. It was Hegel, then, long before
Antonio Gramst:i, who helped to effa:t the deruive shift in potitit-al
theory from problems of id®ug to questions of h<g~ITJ- The laner
concept is both bro:ldtr than, and iru:lusio.·e of, the former. it denotes,
roughly speaking, all the ways in which potitiod power secures itself
through routine institutional practices, rather than, more specifically,
in those si~s. images and rcprescntldoos which wt term ideology.
Social cohesion, so Hegel recognizes, <aDllot feasibly be secured in
some abstnct, disinter-ested aesthetic intersubjecthity; It must anchor
itself in.\read in culrural practice, in rhat whole d....,ly tesselbted
fabric of oodal life which spreads our.·anls from the cloistJlll intimacy
of the famUy to encompass !be nrious phenomena of social class,
corporations, associotions and the reS1. Urdess the sll!te, supremt

145
symbol of soci21 unity and locus of the divine wtll in history, is the
<vmprex >-ublalion of th""" more regiOIUJI, i1Dl11<diate, workaday
insliNtioru, it cannot hope to sustain iu august universal power.
Soda! unity can be es!llb!i.'lhed neither 3t the lenl of the political state
alone, nor in some universalized aesthetic inwardness divorced from
politics; but neither, for Kant at least, can it fiad a !I<CUrc base in
bourgeois economic pracrice1 'civil societi in that narrow sense, even
if Kant's hope Is that sw:b practice might tdtilrtJltdy lead to human
harmony. Indeed rile "Jll'•renr impossibility ofthl< btter option L• one
of the Jrell implicit questions tv "hid• idealist thought in gcm:ral is
an atlcmpted answer. Like IU111, the question to which Hegel
addresses himself in this respect is simply: How is social cohesion to
be implemented In a farm of social tifc which everywhere denies it in
iiS most routine ecooomic actioities? If the ideological unity of
bourgeois society cannot be derived from its common social practice,
if the two realms are mutually inimical, then the temptation will be to
project such harmony into so rarefied " region (cuhure, the aestb«ric,
absolute intuition, the sutc) that iu power to c-npgc common
experience wiD he insto.ntly !\hart-circuited. Hegel's 'concrete ethical
life', vi~OO as the tquiwlent ofGramscian 'chri.l SC)Ciety', offers an
impressive solution to this quandary, as an intric'atc mechanism of
mediation b«tween the priYate domestic affections at one end and the
global truths of Cti•t at the other.
Untikc !Unt, Hegel docs not commit lite nah·e error of trying to
found· 6J)iritwl community in mything a.• slippery as disinterestedness.
Private prup<'Tt)' and abstract right are clearly roo sunk in self-
interested particularism to provide a basis in themscllll:s for
ideotogic"al consensus; but it is shrewdest ro begin ,..;lit these
unpromisingly parochial forms, and sec b.,.., t•ia the mediations of
the division of labour, social class and the corporations, they
dialectiC$lly tnnscend them5elves in to more nlrnustic modes of
association. T he culmination ofall litis will be Hegel's finest aesthetic
artefacr, the org;mic ' concrete universal' of the sate. lind since the
Heg.wm state is strongly interventionist, it reaches back into society
to reinforce iu social bonds. Totality, in short. must emerge
organicaOy fmm the actual dnisions of concrete social life, rother
than b« IIlllpped artiflrially on to them; and Hegd will thus unify
concrete and abstract by a process of objective social mediation,
r:tther than merely linking the two in the act oi aesthetic judgement.

146
 THE WOIU.D Ali AKIUAt.T

In the process of society, each smaller unit dialectically geru:rates the

need for a larger one, dissolving il• particularity intn greater
untn:r>ality, in a series of progressively higher integrations; and since
these insrinnions incarnate the individual subject's free esse ace, it is
in this essentially prnctk,d realm, r.rther than in the r:ontemplative :act
of a~tic judgement, that subject and object become trUly at one.
Hegel's 'culture' is les.• a special dimensioa than the con=te totality
of social tifc as viewed i.n the light of reason. h is into this concrete
totatity tltat he reinserts Kant's abstnct morality, from which, as be
sees, it is a one-sided derivation; and his social unity is thus at once
more materially grounded than Kant's inte!llubjectivo; c:oost:llliua, and
at the same time- since it can be present as a whole only ro tol21izing
reason - ill a certain sense more abstract. Confronted with an
aggres..ivei}· individualist snclal order, K2nt panWly sepanres culture
from the tm11in of potitical institutions, eSlllblisbing consensus
through feeling rather man throuJh the conccpc; Hegel's dialectic of
culture ami politics represeniS a rnuruality of feeling and concept,
whereby the abstract repre5Cnlatians of univcnaJ reason will p:adually
emerge from the Ltlmrs~t!t in which they arc ~"S dimly stirring.
The concrete ethical world is one oftraditional, largely unreflective
pietie• and practices; and as such it manifests a ldnd of 'spon1211eous
lawfulness' or 'lawfulness without law' which makes it akin to the
Kantian aeSihetic. T o liW\'C from here ro the poljtigJ slate, boweV<.T,
in~lves sacrificing lhe immediacy of the Kanrian aesthetic lo the
discursivity of the concept, fusing individual and society nul in some
inruirive intenubjecti\ity but laboriously, indirec1ly, through the
complex mediatW>ns of family, class, corporations and the like.
K~n 'culNrc' appears from Hegel's viewpoint as excessively
idcaUzed; only by evolving social unity from the most apparently
unpropitious beginnings, from the competitive struglcs of civil
society itself, can ony political rule hope to achie•e a sound enough
material grounding. And only by dissolving obsuact moraliry into the
rich, largely unconscious textures of cusronwy practice em !Unt's
dua.ijty of praaical reason and sensibility be transcended, and political
~muny, ia a dire<:tly Gnrms<:ian >ens<: of the term, be C<Jl1Wlidotcd.
To •e.srherieit-e soci•l life in one direeti.on - to view it os a wealth of
concrete c:~padties await ins- their fuU creative development- me:.ns
to adopt a properly dialectical form of reason, and so to brealt. with
aestheticization in tbe sen.\e l)f mere inruitive immediacy.

1'17
 Hegel is surely wise to beticve that politirol unity must find it:s
foumlatiQn in civil so<.iety; it is just that in bourgeois society any such
stratqy is norably dillicuh to achieve. Bourgeois civD society does
indeed bring indmduals together, but only, as Hegel himself
acknowledges, in a largely negatiYe, objcctive, unconscious inter-
dependence. The dimlon of labour, for example, generates mutual
dependency by its separating and specializing of skills; but it is no
simple matter to transform this purely oblccllve murual reliance into
communfty-for-iudf, and Hegel anticipates much of the e:trly Man:
in his awareness of on cm~l, polcotiaBy disaffected proletariat ('a
robblc ofpaupm', as be <al1s them) w.uulalized by the em-eme poles
or <OCUl wulth and poY<ny. It is precisely because the project of
evolving political harmony from a fissured civil society is at once
essential and implausible that Hegel has need of philosophy, which
will show individuals how such unity is attainable at the self-
conscious level of the political state. Unity will finally come about if
indhiduals read their Hegel and work to bnplement IL
Philosophy, in short, dnes not merely describe the ideal stAte, but is
a necessary insrrumenr for bringinf it abouL One of Hqel's nouble
a.chievemeniS is !bus to resolve in his ""''D fa.<hinn the dichotomy
between fact and value deeply entrenched in empiridstaod Kantian
thought. Oru: way be docs so is by holdinJ, as Marxism was later to
hold, that cerrain fnnn.• of the<)l'edcal description are inescapably
normative beelu,_, they provide kinds of bowledge .....-sential to social
emancipation. And this knowledge is nothing Jess than the whole or
the Hegelian system. The constative dimension of that discourse is
thus insepar:~ble from a performative """Jli'ct: only by becominJ
conscious of Spirit (or more exactly by allowing it to rise to a
consciousness of itself in us) will that Spirit be politically nurtured,
embodied and extended. If phDosopby is to be anchored in the
Absolute then it must be essentially practU:aJ, since the e<sence of the
Absolute Is precisely to realize itself CCllselessly in the world. If
Ho:g.:lian theory were not ilsclf an active political foree, it would lo5c
Its absolute grounding. Hegel can thus shift from fact ro value,
cogniti'le to political, epistemolollY to elhics, with no sense of sharp
disjunction, as David Humc and his proJeny cannot Gtilf is the
essence of evCJYtlling that exists, and so a.n account of its ad\'tnWrcs
through time ·woold appear to be purdy descriptr.-..; but it is the
nsm« of all that exists in the sense ofiu significant inner structure or
148
 Til£ WORLD .• s ARTUACT

trajectory, such that an account of it provides us wid1 norms relevant

to ethical md politil:al bcJta,iour. :-lo historial epoch or social order
can exist outside Gcis1, which would thus appeu til b.. no more than a
mere description of the whole; but any particular epoch or order may
fall to realize Grin's imperatives adeqwtely - even if, in thus falling
shnrt, it wiD be unwirlingly contribnring to iiS finallriumph; and in
Ibis sense Ctist stands in critical judgement o••er against the historial
given.
If Hegd'• philosophy is to be both theory and practice, pan of
Spirit's ~ecy dynamic rather than a m&re conteroplative description of
it, then people must necessarily road that philosophy and oome to oct
apon it, fasbiooing those political Slrllctures appropriate for the
Ab.olure's self-realiz:nion in hi<tory. Such activity cannnt he left to
the spontaneous movement of history itself; there is a laclo. in •uc:h
mo.cment, which only tile sclf-conseiousaess of philosophy can
supply. The w lue of phnosophy depends upon the limits of the
spon1211eous process it charts. The culmination of history is the ideal
political SLUe; but nor a"'n individuals li\ing in that state will attain to
1 spontaneous knowledge of the complex social whole, since the
differeno.Mns of modem society render any such tnowldge
impossible. Citizens of the ideal state will relate to the social whole
only mediately, through thar particular COJPOnriom aad estates.
Hegel d - not belieYe i.n the .,_;bility of a Slate in which, as in
ancient society, "'"' Y citizen would be immediately identified with the
principle of common life. Different c~es wirhin the ideal swe will
live their rc:Jations to the whole in different ways, and no individual
"ill be able to unite all of these modes "ithin his or bcrown person. If
Ibis is ""• tben Hegel's state becomes a kind o( fiction, since no one
individual can possibly bJoor; iL It c:xis1s only at the level o( writing.
which is wby Hecel's own philosophy is necessary. The only place
where a lnowledge o( the totality resides is in the philosophy of
Hcccl. Absolute kno...l<:dgr, as 1\Jc.undre Kojh'e points out, e.Uts
for Hegel only as a~ 'The citizen is thus only fully self-conscious
to the extent to which he has read (or written) the Phm~~~~~mfii•D of
Mind.'" And this is because Hegelian "isdom consists not simply in
lilliog a relation to the toulity, but in hro01iog this tollllity too. The
Slate thus exists as a whole only for the specula rive theorist: it is Hegel
who keeps the ideal state in existence, sustaining it by his knowledge
rather a.< God sustains the world . 1l~e tOialization of the stale liO'S

149
outside itself, in the mind which knows it. The politiClll materializes
11M: philusophical, but caJlllot be quite on equal terms with It; a gap Is
opened up berwecn theory and Jllllitical practice, such that wbeo the
state is ' lived' it is not as the complex totality present to ~teary, and
when it is knO\\'D it is not as 'lived'. T heory and ideology, me;ming
;md being, are in this ulti.ll'l2tely at odds.
It is 6oaUy in this sense that the Hcgctian system, as Kicrkegaard
contilluaUy complained, cannot be iiT1tri. It exists 3S a whole only for
dte concept, of which there is no sensuous analogue. Reality is an
organic ancfact, but it cannot be spont.:llleously known as a whole
through aesthetic intuition. Wisdom for ~gd is finally conceptual,
never representational: the whole can be graoped through the labour
of dialcctiClll reason, but not figured there. An and relisious faith are
the closest approximatkms we .have to such concrete imaging; but.
both involve S<:DSUoUS r~prcscntations whidt dilute the clarity of the.
concept. DWec:tical reason can render us realitY as an indi\'isible
unity; but in the very 11<:t of doing so it is wodemned from the
viewpoint of aesthetic immediacy to the division, linearil)' and
periphrasis of all mtianal discourse, disarticulating the very substance
it seeks to totalize. Only tbe smu:tur< of philosophical discourse can
susrcst something of the synchronic truth of the Idea it strives to
elq)ticate - an Idea which, as ~gel remarls, 'is the process of its own
becoming, the circle which presupposes its end as its purpose, and
has ilS end for ilS beginning'." The principle which philosophy
expresses is an 'aesthetic' one; but this Is no lusti6c1ltion far
philosophy to collapse into some portentous i.ntuirionism.
Thwry in Hegel follows after pracUcc, as the tardy llJBht of
Minerva's owl; and 10 this extent it cannot meddle with that practice
in ways barmful 10 i ts spontaneous "isdom. Spirit ript,ns within
habitual, unconscious social KIM!y, or 'culture' ; when it forrets this
location within concrete life and acts •bstr:u:rly, prematurely, the
n:sult is revolutionary fanaticism, J •cobinistic blueprinting. The
belatedness of theoly pnsen'OS prac1ice &om such injurious abstraction,
l=~ it as tbe fertile soil from which self-con.sciousnes• will
gradually aower. When theory finally begins to emerge from that
ground, when the Idea begins llfllduaUy to come into its ""'II, its
primary (lO"'llre is retrospective: casting an equable gaze back ewer
the whole historical process which produced it, it sees that all of this
~~o'2S weU. What. prospecti\'e, perfonnath·e functions thwry scn-es

ISO
 · 111E WORLD AS AllTEF.\CT

work within !he cantcA1 of!his sc:rene retrospect: the tasks of Reason
ore to en.<ure tlur what: lu! be.en slowly ~rfcctcd Is C2rrlcd forward,
t:.=<."Cming even more essenli:tlly wh:~c it :alre-.tdy is. Yer it is, of course,
no simple feat to daim that cvcrydting has been for the best. On the
contrary, to orgue ""l' such grossly implausible claim will require a
•'IAggering d~ee of dialectical ingenuity, whicb then begins to
foreground the operations of pure mind to a point whicb threatens to
cut th•t mind off from the concrete, spontaneous history out nf "ilich
it grows. Theory thus pans company with history in the wry act of
justil)ing it; and this is another sense in whlcb the project of rescuing
the ,.·urld for reason in\'oNeS in Hegel a degree of rarefied
speculation which is nocably difficult to 'naturalue' as 110 ideological
mode.
Confronted with the problem of establishing social harmony in an
unstable, conflict-riddrn 'i<Jcial order, the apologists uf emergent
bourgeois society find lhe1115Civcs caught in a deft sticl: between
reoson and intoiliun, dial e~ and aesthetics. It would be convenient
ir the unity of society could be felt as immediately as the form of an
artefact - if the law of the social tnlality, as supposedly in ancient
Greece, wet~: somehow inscn'bed in the •ery appearances of 'i<Jciety
itself, sponuneou•ly avoUable to each social participant. Such
aesd1eticized social knowledge, gh·en the divi$ions and complexities
of modem life, is 1>0 longer to be hoped for: the ac:rtb•1ic as a form of
social cognition yield! Mlhing but rhap!Odic vacuity. Society b
indeed a kind of artefact, a magniJk-eot ioterpeneuation of subject
and objrct, fonn and content, freedom and necessity; but this will
become "f'''aTcnt only to the patient probings of dialectical I'U.Ion,
given the strata of false conscious'""" which intervene between
empirical coDScioumess and tiM: whole. ~·amily, state and civil sockty
art clasped together in intima.te unity, thus .illO\\ing Hegel to found
ideological c01'1S40nsus in the •cry material instirutions of the existing
social order. But to demonrnate the concealed linkages between
family, eMf •odcty and .-.uc ca be done only at the level of the
concept, 1'11ther than experientially; and there is thus a difficulty
concerning the relation of Hcgetian thought to that system of
sensuous repr-nt:arion which t• ideolog)·. \\-'hat is aaually lived out
in society, "'"n in the ideal political state, can never be tbe to«alily as
such, which dudes all scns\10115 incarnation and lk'cs only In writing.
Confronted with these difficulties, it v.ill not bt long before some

151
bou'l!eois theory abandons rational opologia altogether, IU1d turns
increasingly to rely upon the aesthetic.

I Sec Clwlcs Taylor, Hqtl w Mcdmt Sctiny (Ua!brids<, 1979),

d u ptrr I.
Z Quoted by SWIIc:y Rosen, C. W. F. H<g<l (New H ..cn and Loodoa,
1974), p. 51.
3 J. G. Fichtt, Stitn« of Kno.W4dC.ambrirlgt:, 1982), p. 15.
4 F. W. J. Schellins, Spt"" tJf TTVIUD!Iflntial I.JuJi!.m (Cbarkc....,;Jh;
V'qini3, 1978), p. 34.
s Ibid, p. 35.
6 Ibid, p. 29.
1 See, for a useful dis<ussloD of tb<s< points, Peter Oews, fAtia .t'
Disi~ (Londun, 1987), cboptcr I, and Rooo)phc: O..Cbc, T1u
Tain ofdte Mirmr (C:unbridge, Moss., 1986), Port I cb:opter 2.
8 Schelling, SystDa o/Tr...,arlintld !Je..lism, p. 12.
9 Ibid, p. 220.
10 Ibid, p. 232.
11 G .W. F. HtetJ, 17u L<Jtit(Odord, 1892), para ZIZ.
12 Quoted by Cborlts 1'aytcw, He¢ (Cambridp:. 1975), p. HI.
13 G. W. F. Htgd, 17r, Ph~ •!Spmr (Odord, 1971), p. 43.
H Immanuel K.wt, CriJift'< ofJoul~mu:nt (Oxford, 1952), pp. 127- 8.
15 F. Schiller, 'Ort rhe Neces.~~:~ry l.imitariorS io the 1.ke uf Bauly or
Farm', iD Cg//«UJ W•lll:s (New York, n.d.), voll\l, pp. 234-5.
16
17
Akundrc "*'•· JnnMraicn o/4 """" 1< Hqtl (Pw, 1947), p. 305.
H<J"l. Plrto4mml/oo of Spilit, p. 10.

152
 6

The Death ofDesire:

Arthur Schopenliauer

Though Schopenhouer is undcJubtedly ooe of the gloomiest philos-

ophers who ever wrote, then: is an unwitting comedy about Iris
work which has to do with the presence of the body .,ilhin it.
Scbopenhauer srudied physiology at university, and is impressively
learned aboolt the lungs and pancrea.\; indeed It is a strillng thought
that his choice of Wliversity subjects might have reshaped the whole
wursc of Westcm philosophy right up to the fashionable neo-
NieiZSeheanisms of our own time. For it is from Schopenhauer's
warsely materialist meditations on the pharynx and the larynx,
on cramps, convulsions, epilepsy, teW>us and hydmpbolm, that
Niettsche will derive much of Iris own ruthless pbysiological
reductionism; and aU that solemn, archaic niDetecnth~emtuy
discourse on Man in tenns of the ganglia and lumbar regions, which
surnvcs at least as long as Lawrcn«, thus forms a shady hinterland to
that ~urgence of theoretical interest in the body wbich has also, in
our own epoch, rather more pomn·e and political dimensions.
Schopenah""r is quite unembamwed ro dete<t his celebrated
Wil~ that blindly persistent desire at the root of all phenomena, in
yawning, sneezing and vomitinr, ia jerkinp and rwitchinp of various
kinds, and seems wloolly oblivious of the bathos with which hi•
lang... ge c:~n v~r without warning in the cowse of a page or so from
high-flown reflections on fr<e "ill to the suucrure of dte spinal coni
or the exaescences of the caterpillar. ~re is a kind of Bdhtinian
bathos or Brechtian plu..pts Dmm about Ibis sudden swooping from
Grist 10 genitalia, from the oracular to tile orifidal, which in Bakhtin's
hands at lea•t is a political we.apon opinsl ruling-class idealism's
 pal'1Uioid fear Gf the flesh. With Schopenbauer it is less a queotiuo uf
political n:voltliwl of a lind of cncker-barrel cnssnc:ss, a.~ uilen he
solemnly iUusm"'s the conflict between body and intellect by
pointing 01.11 that people find ithord to walk and talk at the same time:
'For as sooo as their bnln lias to link a few ideas together, it no longer
has as much force left o""r as is required to ~eep the legs in motion
throueh the motor or:ncs.'1 Elsc:wh<rc he speculates that the
boWidless, infinite objeaive world 'is reaDy <mly a cenain mo""ment
or affection of tl•e pulpy mass in the skull' (2, 273), ur suggests that a
shon stature and nc:<:k an: cspcciJJiy favourable to geniu>, 'beause on
me shorter path tile blood reaches the brain with more energy' (2,
393). AD of this vulgar ~teralism is a kind of theoretical posture in
itself, a sardonic smack at high-toned Hegelianism from one who,
though a filii-blooded metapbytklan hlmself, regards Hegel as a
supreme charlatan and moot philosophy except Plato, Kant and
himKif as a 101 Gf hot air. Crottbery, arropnt and cantankerous; a
sathlngj.,..naun wirist who professes to believe that the Genrums
occd their loog words because it gM> their slow minds more tim< to
think, Schopenbauer's work reveals a eami\'l!esquc coupling of tile
imposing and the commonplace evideot in his very name.
Indeed incongruity becomes in Schopcnhauer's hands the basis fur
a full-blown tlu:<>ty or comedy. The ludieroiOS, so be Ifill""· springs
&om the pnadllllX>I subsumption of an object under a cooc.opr in
other ways heteroseneous to it, so th3t an Adomo-lit.e insistence on
tbe non-idturiry or obi~ md concept em come ro explain wily
.minuls cannot laugh. Hwnour, in this speciously generalizing view, is
by ond large high ...onls and low meanings, anti so like Scbopenhauer's
own pbiJo...,pby has ao ironic or dialogical structure. This is itself
profoundly irooic, siuce the discrepancy berwcen percept and coocept
which occasioos the rel ease Gf laughter is exactly that disjuncture
between O'perience and inteUect, or will and representation, which
lies at the very c<>re of Schopenhautr's disgusted view or ltumaniry.
Tbe inner structure of this bkakeSI of visions is thus the structure of
a joke. Rcasoo, that crude, blundcrins servant of lhe Imperious will, is
always pathetic &lse consciousnes.<, a mere rd e< of desire which
believes itself absurdly to present the world just as it is. Concepts, in a
famUiar bnnd of nlneteentll-centUJy irradorWlsm, c:aanor ding to the
rich lnrricacles of experience, but appear maladroit and cruddy
reductive. But if this fissures the very being of humanity into iUusiou,

154
 TilE DEATII OF DESIJU:

so that merely to think is to be sd f-deccived, it .Jso provides the

elements of a f reudian theory nf humaur:

[l'cn:cprion] is the medium of the present, of enjoyment

arul cheerfulness; moreover it is not as.~ociatcd with ony
exerti<Jn. With thinking the opposite bolus good; it is the
second power of koowlcd~c, whose exercise always
requires some, often considerab]c, ex'crtian; md it i.s the
c'tlncepts of thinking that ore so often opposed tu the
satisfaction of our immediate desires, since, as the medium
of the pa.'il, of rhe fururc. and of what is sertous, they acl as
the >·dude of our fcan;, our n:grcll;, and aU our cares. It
must therefore be dc6ghtful for u• to sec this strict,
untiring, and mOSI troubl~ome governess, our foculty of
reason, for once convicted of inadequacy. There ton: on
this account the mien or appCM311ce of bughter is very
closely related to that of joy. (2, 98) ·

Comedy is the will's mocking revenge on the representation, t.he

malicious slrilce of the Schopenhaurian id against the Hegetian
superego; and this source of hibrity Is also, curiously, the root of oor
utter bople<.<ness.'
If humour and hupclcosncss lie so close together, it is bccaus.:
human existence for Schopenh•uer i~ less grand tragedy than squalid
farce. Wrilhiog in the tolls of the vor~cious wiU, driven on by an
implacable appetite dley relendessly idealize, men and women arc
les.~ tragic protagonists than pitiably obtme. The mrn;t fitting emblem
of the human enterprise is the sh<wcl-pawed mole: 'to dig stn:nuously
with its enormou< <hovel-paws is the husin ... of it~ whole life;
permanent night surrounds it • . . what does it attain by this course of
life that Is full of U'OUble and de,·oid of plusurel Nourishment and
procreatio n, that is, only the means for cmuinuing :~nd beginning
again in the new individual the same melancholy course' (2. 353-'1).
Nothins ~auld h< more obvious to Schopenhauer than the tact that it
would be infinitely preferable if the world did not exist at an, that the
whole project is a ghastly mistake which should lonr ago have been
called off, and that only some crazed idealism could pmsibly believe
the .Pleasur.s of existence to ourweigh its pains. Only the mnst blatant
self-delusion - ideas, ''lllues, the rest of that pointless paraphemaliJI-
155
could blind indi\iduals to this laughably sdf-.,ident truth. Sunk in its
gross stupidity, humanity insi>ts upon regarding as valuable a histOJY
which is so plainly lhe record of umage, misery and wretchedne<s
!hat our capacity to thi'nk it in the least Inferable must itself be
explicable only as a ruse of the will, lhe low cunning v.ith which it
shields iiSelf from our knowledge of its own futility. It is hard for
Schopenhauer to restrain a hu"t of hysterical laughter at the sight of
this pompously self-imponant race, gripped by a remorseless will-to-
ti,·e which is secretly quite indifferent to any of them, piously
oon\inced of their own supreme v:!lue, scromhllng over each other in
pursuit of some earnest goalwhicl• will tunt instantly to ashe~ in their
mouths. The world Is one enormous market pluc, 'this world of
ooostaody needy creatures who continue for a time nterely by
dC\'Ouring one another, pass their existence in anxiety and want~ and
often endure tenible atllictions, undl they fall at last into the arms of
de:uh' (2, 349). There is no gr:>tlll relos to this 'battle-ground of
tormented and agooizl:d hcincs' (Z, 581), only 'moml:ntaJy gntiliation,
ft«tiag pleasure conditioned by wants, much and long sufferin~.
constant struggle, bellum ""'niom, 0\erything a hunter and everything
hunted, pressure, want, ne<:d and anxiety, shrieking and howling; and
thi• goes on i• s~ rtl«<lkmlm or until once again lhe crust of the
planet ~ks' (2, 354). If hum.1n beings were apable of ront<mplaling
objectively for one moment this per>ersc attllchmmt of theirs to
unhappiDess, they would necessarily abhor it. The whole nee Is like a
diseased beggar who appeals to us for help to prolong his miserable
existence, even though from an objective \'iewpoint his death would
be altogether desirable. Only some sentimental humanism could see
such a judgement a< callou< rather than coolly reasonable. The most
fornmate life is that 11;111 endurable want and eomparad\·c painlesmess,
though the result of tbi< is boredom. Boredom for Schopenhauer is
the chief motive for sociality, since it is to avoid it that we seel out
each other's lovclc.s company. AU of thi> set> the """"" for high
tragedy, yet even !hat""' bungle: 'our Bfe must contain tO the ..·oes of
tragedy, and }'l't we anll(lf even assen the dignity of tragic characters,
but, in rht broad detail of life, an: inC\itably the footisb characters of •
comedy' (1, 32Z). Hlsrory is low burluque rather than Attic
solemnity: 'no-a"" bas the remotest idea ""Y the whole tragi-comedy
exists, for it has no spectators, and the actors themselves undergo
endless worT)' with little and merely negative enjoyment' (2, 357). Life

156
 a grotCS<jUely bad absurdist drama full of farcical reperirion, a ""t of
vial variations on a shoddy scrit>t·
Tht:n: is somcthing amusing about the very relentless consistency
f this Schopenh2ue!Un gloom, a perpet\&31 grousing with all the
onotonous, mechanical repetition of the condition it denounces. ff
medy for Schopenhauc:r invoh·es subsuming objectS to inaflliJ'Iljlriate
ocept~. then this is ironica]ly tru~ of his own pessimism. which
ampS cvel)'thing with its own inc>01'3ble colour at1d so has !he
nniness of all rnonomonia. Any such obsessive con•ersion of
fferem.:~ to Klcotity is bound to be comic, howl.-vcr tragic the actual
utlook. To sec no ditlcrcncc bel"o·een roasting a leg of lamb and
asting a baby, to >iew both as mere. indifferent e>pressions of the
elllphysical will, is as risible "" mistlking one's left foot for the notion
f natural justice. Pan of our laughter at such remorseles.< runnel
sion is no doubt relief ot the wanton parade of a monstrous egoism
e o.melves ha"e had to c:omouflage - th~ in the case or a
rva.<ivel}' pe.<simlsric visl<>n like Schopenhauer's such laughter may
ntain a nef\'ously defensive quality too. His perverse ignoring of
hat we feel to be the more positive aspects of life is outtageous
ough to be amusing, :as we would smue at someone whose only
terest in great painters was in bow lllllny of them bad halitosis.
Sch~n.h3uer's intense p~i.C"JD, however, is in one seose not io
e least outrageous - is, indeed, no more than the sober realism he
mself considers it tn he . One-sided though this viewpoint may be, it
a fact lhot throughout clas.~ history the fate of the great majority of
en and women has b<'Cn one of suffering and fruitless toil.
hopenbauer may not have all of the truth; but he bas a huger sh=
it than the rumantic hmnaoists he. is out to discredit. Any mon:
peful view or hwnanity which has not reckoned his particular
rrative into account is bound to be enfec:bled The domin•nt tale of
story ttl date bas indeed been one of aunage, misery and
pression. Moral vinuc hu never flourished as the decisive force In
y political culture. Where such values ha~ aken precarioos root,
ey ha\·e been largdy confined to the priYate realm. The moootooous
iving forces of history have been enmil)', appedtc and dominloa;
1d the scandal of that sardid heri12ge is that it is indeed po.«ible tn
sl of the lives of innumerable indi>iduals whether they wouW not
ve been better off dead. 1\ny degree of freedom, dignity and
mfort has been oonfined to :1 tioy minority, while indigence,

157
unhappintss and hard labour have been the lot of the vast majority.
'To enter at the oge of live a cotton-spinning or other factory',
Scbopcnl•wer remans, 'and froot then 00 to sit there every day lil'5l
ten, then twelve, and finally founeen hours, and pcrfonn the same
mechanical work, is to purcha.o;e deorly the pka.<ure of drawio~
brt:llth' (2., 578). The dramatic mutations of human h~~ory, it>
epochal rupcurcs and upheavals, have been in one sense mere
••aria lions ou a consistent theme of exploitation and oppression. Nor
could any future transfonrunion, however radiul, aftect this record in
any substaotl31 way. 'F nr oU Walter Otojamln's efforts to raise the
dead themselv<.. with the cl:uioo call of his eloquence, for aU hi>
urgent attempts to muster around the. froail band of the Jiving the
fertilizing shades of the unju!\!ly quelled, it rem11ins the harsh tnoth
that the dead c11n be raised only in n-.oluriooary imagination.' There
is no literal '"'3f in wbich we can compensate them 10!' the sufferings
they received at the hands of the ruling onler. We c:annot recaU the
crushed medieval pcasanay or the wage-slaves of early industrial
capitalism, the children who d~d afraid and unloved in the wretched
hovels of elliS> society, the women who broke their bocks for tegimes
which used thtm with arrogance and contempt, the colonized nations
which coUapsed under an oppressor who found them at once sinister
and cha.rming. Titere is no Gteral .,..•y in which the >had.,; of lhc>e
dead can be summoned to claim justice from those wbo abused them.
The p:umess of the put is the simple truth ihat, rewrite aod
recuperate them IS we may, the wrct<:hcd of history have pa,.ed away,
and will not slwe in any more compassionate social order we may be
able to create. For •II its homespun eccentricity and obdurote
monomania, Scbopcnhaucr's appalling vision is aocuratc in many of
ilS essentials. He is mistaken to thinl: that the destructive will is an
there is; but there is a sense in which he is cuoect to see it as the
cm:nu of all history to datt:. This is not a truth partic:ularly palatable to
politital radic:als, even Ifit is in one sense the very motivation of their
practice. That this intolerable narrative cannot cootinue is the belief
wllich inspires their strUggle, even as the crippliDg burden of dw
history-uld seem to hear mute witness agoinst the feast'hillry of such
a faith. The source of energy of a radical politics is thus always the
potential SOUJ'CC of Its enervation.
Schopenhauer i.< perhaps the lim major modem thinker to place at.
the centre of hi> work the abstract cate~oory of t~n;,. iurlJ, irrespective

158
 TH£ DF..ATH OF llESIR.E

of IIU• or that particular hankering. It is this powerful absa-action

which psychoor..Jysis will later inl1erit, though it is probublc that
Freud, who was said to consider Schopcnhaucr one of the half-dozen
greatest indniduals who had eoer lived, co.mc to know his work only
after his own theories were already formed. )Ulit as l'llpitnlist SU<.i<l)' is
in this period evolving to the paint where it will be possible for Marx
to extract from it the key oonccpt of obstract labour, a conceptual
operation only possible on the basis of certain material conditions, so
the detennirunt role and regular repetition of appetite in bourgeois
society now permits a dramatic theoretical shifl: the oonstrucrion of
desire as a thing in itself, a momentous metaphysical event or •elf-
identic.'ll for«, as 3gah:~st s001e urli.e r ~iat order in "'h.ich desire is
still too narrvwi)' Jl"rticula~ti<:., too intimately bound up with local
or a-aditional obligation, to be reined in quite this way. With
Schopenhauer, de.,ire has become the protagonist of the hu1112n
theatre, and human subjectS themselves its mere obedient bearers or
underlings. 1'hi> Is not only becau.~e of the emergence of a social
order in which, in the form of commonplace possessive individualism,
appetite is now becoming the order of the day, the ruling ideology ond
dominant <OCial pl'llCtice; it is more specifically becau<e of the
pt'n:Civ<'tl itt/in;r, of desire in s S<lcial order where the only end of
accumulation is to accu.mulatc afresh. In a lrauJnatic collapse of
teleology, desire comes to seem independent of any Jl"rtiCular ends,
or at least as grotesquely disproportionate to them; and once it thus
ceases to be (in the phenomenological sense) intt~~lional, it begins
monstrously to obtrude itself as a Diog-an-sid1, an opaque, unfathom-
able, sclf-propc:lllng power uncrly without purpose or reason, like
some grisly caric:orun: of the deity. The Schopenhaueri:tn wil~ as •
form of purposircness without purpose, is iu this sense a smage
travesty of the Kanti2n aesthetic, a shoddy,lnferior artefact we could
all weD do without.
Once desire is for the first time homop:nizcd a.s a singular entity, it
can become the object of moral judgement as such - a mave which
-uld have stemed quite unintelligible to those moralists for whom
there is no sucb phenomenon as 'desire·, simply this or that particular
appentency on whlcb a particular judgement may be passed. If desire
beoomes hypostasized in this way, then it c< possible. in a long
Romandc-libcnarian lineage from William Blake to Gilles Delcuze,
Ill ..iew it "-< supremely po<itive; but the preconditions of such

159
Romaotic affinnarion are also !he preconditioM of the Schopenhaucrian
denuncit1tion of desire I~UI cvurt) ac~pting- the t..-at_egodes ofRo,_n;uu_K;
humanism but impudently in\'ming the valuatioiiS. Like Schopcnhaur:r,
you can remin the whole totllizing :~~>~>atal\IS of bourgeois humanism
at its most aflirmali\'e - the singular rentr.ll principle infonning tlte
..f>olc of reality, the integrated cosmic "'hole, the stable reb tions of
phenomena and essence- while mischi~ously emptying lhese fonns
of their ideati1.ed content. You can drain off the ideological substance
of the system - freedom, justice, reason, progress - and fiU that
system, Slill intact, -.ith the actuol degraded material'! of ev.!cyday
bourgeois e><istence. Thi!;, pre.:isdy, is what Schopenhauer's notion
of the wiD achieves, which structurally sp~ng SC!\'CS just the
function of rhe Hege~:m Idea nr Rnmandc life-force, but is nnw
nothing mort. than the uncouth r•p•city of the average bourgeois,
elevated to cosmic status and lraiiSfonned to the prime metaphysical
rnover of the entire univeo;;e~ It i$ a.~ though one retained lhe whole
paraphernalia uf the Platonic )deliS but c.lled them Profit. Ph.iJistinisn~
Self-Interest and so on.
nu~ re~ul t of this U)O\'e i~ :ambi~lent. On the Olle- band, it
naturalizes and UJ1h-cnoliz~-s bourgeois behaviour. everything from
the forces of gravity to lhc blind stirrinp of the polyp oc rumblinp of
the gut is invested with 1\otile craving, the whole world reca.<t in the
image of the market plac.:. On the other hand, this grandly
gener:tlizing gesture serves to discredit bourgeois Man all the more:
thoroughly, write bim repellently large, project his sordid appetites os
the very stuff of the cosmos. To redua= Man to th• pol}p is at once to
exculpate him as a helpless poppet of the will, and to insult him. This
debunl<ing shakes boorgeois i<knlogy to the root, at the S3mt time os
itS nanrralizing effect rctDOYes the hope of apY bistorical alternative.
Schopenhauer's system thus stands at the cusp of bourgeois historical
fortunes, stm con.6denr enough in its forms to unll)<, essendalize,
universalize, but pr.'<.'isdy through these gestures inflating to
intnlenblc proportions the meagre ttJnunrs of social hfe. Those
l'Onteots are thus discredited by the very move which grants them
mcl>physical status. T he fomts of the Hegelian system are turned
against that philosophy with a vengeance; totalizatioo i!; still possible,
but now of a purely negame kind.
This is also true in another sense. For Hegel, tbe free suhject
articulates a universal dimension of eon.sdousness (Cmr) which is

160
 T1Jf. OE.'.TH OF OUtRE

nl:"erthcle,. at the very core of its idcnticy, that which makes it

uniquely whot it is. And this tran.;cendenlal principle, in order to be
itscU: stands in need uf such indhiduation. Scbopenhauer preserves
this conceptual structure but lends it a malevolent twist. What makes
me wliat I am, the wiU of whkb I nm simply a mnteriali:<alion, is
utterly indifferent to my individual identity, which it uses merely for
its Owtl pointless self-reproduction. At the very root of the human
subject lies that whlcb is implaeably alien to it, so that in a devastating
irony this will which is the very pith of my being, which I can feel from
the inside of my body with incomp aNbly greater immedillcy than I
Clio know anything else, is ab•olutr:ly unlike me at all, ...;thuut
consciousness or motive, at: bb.nkly unfeeling and anonymous a.-: the
force which stirs the waves. No more powerful image of alienation
could be imagined than this malicious parody ofideatist humanism, in
which the Kantian Ding-<Jn-•irh is brought nearer to knowledge as the
directly intuitable interior of the subjtct, but nevertheless retains all
the Impenetrability to reason of that Kandan realm. This impenetra-
bility is no longer a simple epistemological fact but an inert,
intolerable weialtt of mcaningtes.sr>css that we bear inside ourselves as
the ~ery principle of our being, as though permanently pregnant with
munstcrs. Alicuation lie~ now not in sumc oppressive mechanism out
there in the world, wllicb confiscates our producu and identities, but
in the mildest motions of our limbs and language, in the fointest
llil:ker of curiosity or compassion, in all that makes us Ji,ing,
breathing, desiring creatures. \\lnat is now irreparably llawcd is
nothing less than tltc whole C11K-g0f)l of subjectivity itself, not just
some perversion or c.srrangemem of iL Ills this which touclu:s on the
gu~ ty secret or impossible pamdo• of bomgeois society, that it is
exactly in thtir freedom that men and women an: most inexorably
enchained, that we Jive immured in our bodies like lifers in a ceO.
Subjectivity is tlm which we c;Jn least o:::~ ll our own. There was a time
when our dcsir<ts, hDWCl·c:r dtstructh'c, couJd at ]cast be. called ours;
now desire breeds in us an illusion known as reason, in order to con
us that its goals are o urs too.
It is not that Schopeflltauer ignores the v.ill's more cream'< aspects.
If yawulng or yodelling an: expressions of the will, so are all our
nobler aspinttions; but since they are thus caught up with desire they
are pan of the problem nther than the solution. To fight injusricc is
to desire, and so to be complicit with that deeper injo.<tice v.iticb is

161
human life. Only by SOOJtbow breakin&" absolutely with this chain of
call331ity, the terrible sway of teleolot!r, could true emancipation be
achieved. E•-ery bit of the world, from doorknobs and doctonl
dissertations w modes of production and the law of the excluded
middle, is the fnlir of some stny oppetitelocled into rhe great empire
of intentions and effects; human beings tltcmsel•-.:~ arc just walling
m>tcrializations of their parents' copulatory instincts. "The world is
one vast externalir.~tion of a useless passion, :~~ud thilt alone is real.
Since aU desire is founded in lack, aU cksire is suffering: 'All r»iUing
springs from lack, from deficiency, and thus from suffering' (I , 196).
Riddled by the v.ill, the human race is cre"""d o'er •omo <-cntral
absence like a man doubled up o•-er his ulcer; and Schopenbauer is
y,·ellaware of how, in modem psychoarulytical idiom, desire outstrips
need. 'For one wish that is fulfdkd there remain at least ten that are
denied. Further, desiring lasts a long time, demands and requests go
on to infmity; fulftlment is short and meted out sparingly' (1, 196). It
is nor therefore for the more creative impulses tbar we shoald be
searching- not a matter, as with traditional morality, of ranging our
d.,.ires un an e>aluati.. scale and pitting the more positive against the
mort: destructive. Only the quiese<nce of impulse itself would san
us; yet to strl: such qulescence, in a famillar Buddhist paradox, would
be self-defe ating.

Where th<fl can we rum for a momentary staunching of this insatiable.

urge which builds the very stuff of our blood-stream and intestines?
The answer for Schopcnhauer i.~ to the aesthetic, which signifie.~ less
a pre<lCcupation with art than a transfigured attitude to reality. The
intolerable tedium of existence is that we C2ll ne>cr burst out of our
own skin.o;, never shuck off the straitjacket of our peny subjective
interests. We dng our egos with us in everything we do.• tike some
bar-room bore inrruding his dreary obsc.uions into the most =ual
conversation. Desire denores our inability to""" anything r>traight, the
compulsh·e ref~rring of all objects to our own sectariau inter~lS.
Passion ' tinges the objccrs or lmowied!e with its colour' (2, 141),
falsifYing the given through hope, oouiety, e>pe.:tarion; and Schope"-
haucr gives us a home-spun tittle instance of thB vielory of "'ill 0\ct
intcUect by gravely pointing out how, when "'" do our financ:W
accounb.i, the un(~unscWus slips we make are nlmost always to our own
advantage. The aesthetic is a temporary escape from this prison-
162
 WE DEATH OF DESIRE

bouse of subjcc"tivily, in which all desire drops away from us and we

are able for a ch.,nge ro £ee the phenomenon a.• ir really is. As we
relinquish oor hea1ed claiu1S: O\·er it, we dissol\'e contentedly into a
pure, will-less subject of knowledge. Bur to become a pure $object of
l'Tlowlcdgc i.• poradoxically to cease to be • subjccr at all, to know
oneself utterly dec:enrred intu rhe objects of une's contemplation. The
gift of genius, Scbopenhaucr Mires, is nothing more or Ius than rhe
nwsr mmplere objectiviry. The aesrhctic is what ruptur<s for a
blessed moment the terrible SWIIY of teleology, rhe tangled chain of
functions and dfecu into which all things are locked, plucking an
object for an instanl our ofrhe clammy grip of rhe will and sal'Ouring
it pun:ly as spectacle. (Dutch interiors, Schopeobauer argues, are
Hawed aesrhctic objecm, !Iince !heir portrayal of oyEten, he rring.>~,
crabs, wine and so on makes us hW~gty.) The world can be r<leascd
from desire only by being aesrheticizcd; and in rhis process rhe
dC5iring subject will dwindle to a vanishing point of pure dis-
inrerestedaess. Bur 511Cb disinrerestcdness bas tittle in common with
an Arnoldbn large-mlndedoess, imparti21Jy weighing competing
interests with an eye to the affirmative whole; on the contrary, it
demands nothing less rhan a complete self-abandonment, a kind of
serene self-Immolation on the subject's part.
II is reaDy rather too easy, bow.-·er, 10 regan:l this doctrine as mere
escapism. For the Buddhist ttadition to whi<h Schopcnhaucr is bert
indebted, nothing could be more bafflingly elusive thon this
apparently straightforward maHer of S<!eing s()lltething as it is, a naive
realism or (u Hcideggrr might say) a 'letting of thinp be' which is
never really wilhio our po..-cr, :md which con occur only spon~
in a srny moment of mystical illuminoti001. Nor is such realism for
Schopenha1.1Cr any mere po$1tivism: on the comrary, he is a full-
blooded Platonist on thar score, holding that to sec thinp as they arc
is to grasp rhcm In tbcir eternal essences or species-being. It Is rhis
well- nigh impassible realism " 'e can anain in rhc blessed indifference
of the .esthetic - that stare in which the world is transmuted to
theatrical charade, its duicl.ins and howling stillccl to so much idle
Sl>lge chatter for the unmoved specrator's delighted contemplation.
The oesthetic is in dlis senu a kind of psyclaical defence mechanism
by which lbc mind, rhreatcned with an overload of pain, convcns the
cause of irs agony into innocuous illusion. The sublime is lhcreforc
the most typic:tl of all aesthetic moods, aUowing us as it dues to
163
contempbte hosrile objects with absohrte cqu•nimity, serene in the
knowledge that they can no longer harm u>. Jn the sublime, the
paranoid ego fantasizes some state of triumphal invulnerab!Uty,
wreaking Olympian vengeance on the sinister for<:es which would
hound it to dcarh. But this ultimate mastery, in which a prcdatoey
world is disarmed to a kind of fu:tion, is it<elf, as Freud taught us, the
condition of death.• towards which the battered, pitiable e1o is driven
for ilS ultimate self-prcsc!Vation. The Scbopenhaucrt>.n subject thus
masters its own murder by suic-ide, outwit~ its prtdarors. through the
prcmuutre self-abnegation of the aesthetic. 'The Schopenhauerian
aesthetic is the death drive in action, though this d•-ath is sccrcdy a
kind oflife, IJro< disguised a.< Tio">:aJM: the $Ubjtct cannot be entirely
ne~fo~led as long as it still delights, ew11 if what it takes pleasure in is
the process of its own dissolution. The aesthetic condition thus
presents 3D WlSU11110untable paradox, as Keats knew in contemplating
the nightingale: there is no "'"'Yin which one can savour one's own
e:<li.nc:tion. The more exultandy the aesthetic subject experiences il.<
own nullity before the object the more, by that very tokeo, the
CJ<perience must have failed.
Indifference for Schopenhauer is a poUtical a.< well as aesthetic
stare of being; aDd ro this extent he s\.IStains, wh_ile also subvert.ing,
the dassi<'lll Schilkrion e<>oCt:pt of an a.> SO<.;al paradip1. f or
Schopentuucr as for his prcdoce.<sors, the aesthetic is Important
because it spe:ab of more rhln itsr.lr. The detachment or :mal"..txb we
attain for a procious moment in t'onto:mplatin& the anclilct is an
implicit alternative to appetitive egoism; an is n.o mere antithesis to
society, but the most graphic inst•nce of an ethical e>istence beyond
the understanding uf the state. Only by soolehow piercing the veil of
Afaya and rccosniZing the fictional statUS of the individual ego can
one behavt' to others with true indifference- which is to say, make no
signifi<.-ant distinc'l:ion bc111·ccn them and uncsclf. Satiric detachme-nt
is thus at the same time loving compassion, a sene in which, the
pri,.api~m~ intlit:iJtuJJitmn once unolDSked for the ideological fraud it
is, selves may be empathelically exchanged. Just as slJ true knowledge
springs from the death of the suhject, .., too does all moral value; to
act morally is nOI to act from a positive standpoint, hutto act from no
swtdpoint at aU. The only good subject is a dead one, or at least one
..·bleb can project itself by empathetic indifference Into the place of
every other. It is not a question of one individual behaving

164
 'filE 01\ATH OF DOSIP.E

<'On•idcratcly toward> the next, but of bursting beyond 1.he whole

wr•:tched delusion of ' individualil)', in a Oa.'lh of what Waller
Benjamin would call •profane iDwninatiou \ to sume non-plac~
unutterably £ar beyood it. Schopenhauer is thus led beyond the
apparotu.• of bourgeois legality, of rights and responsibitilies and
obligations, since he rejec1S its prime datum of the individual subject.
Unlike the fetishists of difference of our own day, he believes that
what human beings share in common is ultimately of more substance
than what distinguishes them.
Moral action, like aesthedc knowledge, would thus appear an
unthinlablc paradox. For there 1.11n be no practice without a subject;
and with subjt<1S come domination a.nd desire. To speak of a
compassionak subject would s..,m oxymoronic: even if n purely
contemplad\·e benc.olence were possible, it could only realize itself in
action at the cost of falling prey to the voracious will. Knowledge and
prncti<:e would appear as in>nicJtOy at odds for Schopenbauer as
'theory' and 'ideology' for some contemporary tflought: if ther-e can
be no trUth without a subject, there can be none with it either. All
prncticc for Schopcnhaucr inhabits the domain of illusion: to
prosecute my pity for you is in that moment to dispel i~ to 6nd myself
writhing in•1ead in the toils of ..,!(-interest. Only bY transcending the
diseaatd category of subjecthood altogelher could one individual feel
for another; but this very proposition cancels itself out. As William
Blake knew, pity and sorro,.. are signs that the catastrophe bas aln:ady
happened, and would be unnece-'sary if it had nnt. In • society
powered by appetite, where all :tction appears irredeemably oon-
tmlinated, compwion must be banish ed to the realm of 'aesthetic'
contemplation. In one sense, the aesthetic offers us a whole new form
ol soda! tile: in ils •ery dispil>sionate atnonility, it teaches us to shed
our disruptive desires and li\·e humbly, ungreedily, with the simplicity
of the s:iint. It is tim.• the first faint glimmerings of utopia, bearing
with it a perfect, virulendy misanthropie happiness. But this is not a
happiness which could ever be actively realized: like the aesthetic
state of a Schiner, it betrays and undoes irself .., •oon as it enters
upon material exist~oce .
It is in any cue diflicult ro know how this sutc of dlsintcrestednu•
could ever come abnut. It can olwiously not be a product of the will,
since it involves the wiD's momentary suspension; but il is ltanJ to sc:e
how it can be the work of the alienated intcllca either, and in
165
Schopenhauer's drnstically reduced unr.-erse there.,.., ~aUy no odter
ogenls aVllaable. He himself writes obscurely of lhc intcUcet acltlcvlng
in these momeniS a cenaln '!t!mporary prtponderance' over the wiU;
hut the sources or this llllWOnted f'C\'cr.;a( remain significantly vague.
There it positive value in bourgeois society, bur its origins are deeply
m_yl;terious. As with the O!trly Wingtnsrtin, .himself • devoted disciple
of Schopcnhauer, value cannot really be in the world at aU, but must
be transcendental of it.' There is, it would seem, no way of shiftin~
from fac'l ro v;due; and Sc:hupeohauer consequendy manoeuvres
himself into an inc>pticable duality between the torture clwnber of
history on the nne hand. and some vaguely Humcan notion of
intuitive affectio11 on the other. ln suc:h <-ompasoion fur othern, be
writes, we recognize our 'true :and innerm.osr self'i )~t we b:a\'e been
told rime and ag-ain that this innennMt scM is nothing bur the
ravenous will
Scbopcohaucr is adamant that philosophy is quite incapable of
altering human conduct, and disol\'liS all prescriptive intent in his
writing. There can~ no truck between the cognltt.·e and lhe ethica~
which Jl"rtake in the eWlllll enmiryof the representation and the will.
Yet his whole philosophy can be read as an implidt disproval of this
claim. suggesting agaims: its awn conscious intentiO'I'lS how fact and
•alue, description and pres.:riptioo may inde-ed be muiU&Ily mic-ulatcd.
In facr hi• indcbtcdnc.. to oriental lhought bctra)'S just how
ethnocentric rhe facr/nlue dichotomy i• - how deeply the con-
sequence of a technological history from which it is admittedly
impossible to dem·e vahtc, since iu faciS have been constinrU!d from
the ouiSel as volue's w:ry negarion. The Buddhist critique of the
principle of indi,iduatioo, by contrast, is at once descriptive and
pr..ccripm·c - an account of the vay the wnrld is, as weU ao;,
indissociably, the recommendotion of a certain style of moral
behaviour. It is bard to sec how a genuine conviction of the relative
insignificance or dittinction.~ berween selwe.~ could not :affect one's
pt'llctical conduct. Schopcnhauer would sC(m to agree that a
rcrusniliun of the foctioml nature of identity will show up in one's
actions, while refusing I<> acknowled~ th.lt his own discourse, which
speaks of these matter.;, might produc-e such ethical effects.
To do otherwise would be to concede. contruy to ooe ofbis major
tenets, that reason can inOuence the wiD. On such a remorselessly
instrumentalist version of reason as Schopeohauer's, this would be

166
 THE DUTil OF DESIRE

clearly impossible. Reoson is no more than • dumsycalculative device

for the realization of desires which are themsel>·es quite insulated
from .-.donal debate. The lint age from Schopenhaucr and Nicasdle
to contemporary pragmati~m in this sense redupljcates the bourgeois
model of apper:ilin man of Hobbes, Hume and Bcnlham. Reason is
rile mere tool of interest and sm-. of desire - lnteresu and desires
ovtr which there can be fighting but no arguing. But if what
Schotlenhlluer asserts on this score wue true, his Olln work would be
strictly speaking impossible. If he really nedital his own doctrines,
Schopcnhauerwould be Wl>ble to write. If his theory is able to dissect
the insidklu~ wnrlings of the will, then rea.«>n must be to that cortent
e2pablc of c:urving back ou i~self, scrutinizing the dri-es of wbich it
proclaims itself the obedient sel'\'al\r. Either he hlls somehow given
the will the slip in hi> theorizing, or that theorizing is just another of
its futile cxpre>sions ontl so quite valueless.
Schopenbauer's comparison of phiiDSOphy with music suggests
that he believes the former ~ibility tu be the true one. or all the
ans, music is the most direct p~Uentarion of the wil~ indeed it is tbe
will made audible, a kind of delicate, impalpable dlagramofthe inner
life of desire, a revelation in non-cooceptual discourse of the pure
ess<once of the world. Any true philosophy is rhus no more rhlln a
tnlosiation into conceptual tenus of what speaks in music, perfom•ing
nrionally what music achieves itJtUitively. A theory which knew tbe
world as it is would thus be cbarnct~:rized by a kind of aesthetic
completion, would be an anefact all in i&self, resisting discursive
dindoru; and deferments so as ro represent In Its synchronic unity the
cohesion of aU things in the will. Philooophy must thus be
lraDSCenderual; )'ill the only lrallsceodcnral reality ir seems to idenliJY
i.< the will itself. It cannot be that philosophy lools at the world from
lhe vanlllgc point of the will, fur then it 1l'Ouid be umble 10 pass any
tnu: conuncm on it; so it would appear ro be inspecting the viii and
all its works from some other l.r•nscendtntal viewpoint. But since
there is nu such vic10point acknowledrcd in Schopenhauer's writing,
philosophy must be standing in a non-place, spe.tking from some
locorion not included within itself. Th<re is inde<d such a non-place
identified in tbe theory irself - the aesthetic - bur this is not
conceprtW; and It is hllrd to see how it can be conceptually trllnslored
without faRing instantly foul of the delusions of the intellect. In shun,
U'Utb would appear to be possible, bur w.: are quite ar a Joss to account

167
for how this can he so. It can only he that the intellect, in rare,
m}'sterious moments. S4!izes :t prt."C:~rious hold on the will of '.4'hich it is
no more than a manipolatcd plaything. The>< are cpistemologkal
dilemmas which Schopenhauer will bt(fueath to his most famoU5
successor, Friedrich Nietzsche.
Bourscois thought tends to constrUct a recurrent binary oppollition
betw~n knowledge as the sheer determined reflex of desire, and
knuwled~e as a form of sublime disinterestedness. If me, fonner
caricatures the tnle S!lltc of •ffairs of bour!eois civil socieey, where
no rcflectian would seem innocent of self-interest, the loner is no
ra<>r< than illi fant»-tic '"'ll"tiun. Only a dcmonil: d..ire oould dream
such an angelic antithesis. A• an incrca.'!ingly reiJ\ed, fragmented
social on:ler comes gradually to dis<.'redit the idea of its own
intelligibility, sublime disinterestedness must be progressively sum:n·
dcrcd to pragmatist disenchantment. The price of this, however,
is that any II10R ambitious ideological defence of the society as a
whole, uncoupled as it is lrom panicnlar interesiS, steadily loses
its hold upon sn<:ial praclicr. Scbopenlmuer and N'tel7.o;che are
tr.msitional figures in this r"'-pect, full-blooded totaliurs in ooe sense
yet disenchanted pragmatists in another. Caught in this contndiction,
Schopenbauer ends up with a ldnd m transcendcnlllltw ...tthnut
a subject: the place of absolute knowled@e is prcsCIVed, but it lads
all detenninate identity. There can be no subject to liJJ it, for to
be a subject is to desire, :m<f to desire is to be deluded. An
idealist philosophy whicb once dreamt of finding salvation through
the subject is now forcrd to contemplate the unspeakable prospect
that oo salvation is possible without the wholesale immolation
of the subject itself, the most privileged category of the entire
system.
In ooe sense, of course, such an abject surrender of the subject is
no more than a routine feature of the bourgeois social order.
Schopenbauer's ent(l"thetic ethics serialize all individuals to equal
excban~al>ility in much the same manner as the market place, if at a
some'l\'hat loftier level. In this most n11npantly indi\'idualist of
cultures, the indMdual is indeed little more than a ficdon, gh·en the
blank indifference to it of d1e capitalist economy. It is simply thAt. this
prosaic IC\'ellinJ of individual specificity must now be subl&ted to a
form of spirirual communion, disdainfully turned (as in the Kanrian
•esthetic) arooinst the prncti~-.1 L'gtliSm which is in truth its material

168
 THE DEATH OF DESIIIE

found•tion. It is as lhoug:b the cool disregard for specific identities

dispbyed by 1M c:apit>list mOO., of production mil.$! be dignified ro a
spiritual disdpline, elewted to a tend.r mutuality of souls. Yet if this
desperue rnategy mimes the problem to which it Is a solution, its
radicalism is at least equaOy srril;ng. Once the acn•al bon~eois
subject, rather th:lll irs higlt-minded idealist rcprcsenllltion, Is placed
a I• Schopenhauer at lhe nub of lheory, !here seem.< no way of
avoiding Lite conclusion lh•t it must b;, liquidated. There can be nu
question any lonJCI' of Judicious r<:form: nothing shon· of that
reYQiution of the subject which is its mystit:~l obliteration wiD setve ro
liberate it from itself. The philosophy nf subjectivity accordingly sclf-
desrructs, leaving In its wake a numinous aura of absolute value.which
is, precisely, nothing.
Enthusiastic Kantian lhOIJ8h he is, !he aesthetic for Schupenhauer
signifies in ooo sense the txact opposite nf what it means ror his
mentor. Fur !Can~ as we have seen, the disinterested gaze which
reads !he world puR]y as form Is a way of eliciting the object's
enigmatic purposiveness, lifting ir out of the web of pr•ctical
functions in which it is enmeshed sa as ro endow ir wilh >umclhing of
the self-detumining autonomy of a subject. It is by virtue of Litis
crypto-subjecti\-ity that Kant's aesthetic object 'hails' individuals,
speaks meartingfully to them, assures them that Narure is not after all
entirely al.ieo to their preoccupations. For S.:hopcnhauer, things are
quite otherwise: what we glimpse in the aesthetic realm is not yet
another muse of our 0\\'D intolerable subjcc:ti\;ty, bur • reality
benignly indillhenr to our longings. If for Kant the aesthetic works
within the register of the illUiginary, it involves for his successor a
gratifYing shift ro the symbolic, 111here we cu come finally ro acc:q>~
that the object rums ils b2ck upon OS, has no need of US, and is afl lhe
better for thaL It is as !hough, h.-.ing himself rekndessly anthro-
pomorphi>,ed the wbole of reality, discerning analogies of hu1113D
appetite in the falling of a s1one or the blowing of • rose.
Schopenhaw:r's nausea with that whole monstrously huiiWiized
world compels him to imagine how detightful it would be to look at
lhings as though we were not there. Yet this, of coune, is beyond our
reach: the dissolution of the grasping ego, as we have seen, is also,
unavoi<bbly, the ego's exultont fanlllsy of .ecuring an eremal,
uninjured c:xilircnce for irsdf. Perhaps, then, the aesthetic is no m.ore
than the last reckless card the will to live has to play, jusr as for
1&9
Sch~ohauer suicide is simply a sick joke by which the wiU craftily
affimls itself through the individual's self-annibibnion.
The dre.am of transCending one's own peny subjectbood is a
familiar enough ide1list fant»S)'i but it generally turns out to involve
a flight into some higher, deeper fonn of subjectivity, v.ith 11
corresponding gain of omnipotent mastery. On.e does no! give the slip
to the subject simply by oo0(-..1ivizing ur univcnalizing iL Scltopcnbau<:r,
howe\·er, sees that since the subject is ils panicular perspeclive, aU
that can be left behind whm this has been surrnuunted is a kind of
nod>ing: the nirvana of aesthetic contempbtion. Even this nothing
1\Jm<i our to be a kind of somed>ing, a negative form of knowledge; but
"' least one hll$ now •hed the iUw;iun uf a pusilive mode uf
mnsccndCtlt:e. AU that is left ro us is to tal:e pity on the objects of the
world, infected as they .re by our own cont::tgious ~amings, :md save
them· from uur.;oelvc'S by SCJIIIC miraculous >anishing tritit. What is
from one viewpoint an Irresponsible escapism is thus from another
\'iewpoint the last wont in mor.1l I"M!roisn•.
It is in the body, above aU, that for Schopenhauer the impossible
dilemmas of existence !He on flesh. For it is in the body that we are
most starkly confromed with the dash betwa:n the twu utterly
incompatible worlds in which we Jive simulaneoiiS!y. In 11 rewritinr; of
Kant's celebrated du:tllsm, lht body which '''e live from the inside is
will, whereas lht body as an obje<t among others is representation.
' Jbe human subject, that is, Jives a unique double relation to its own
body as >t once noumenal and phenomell21; the flesh is the shadowy
frontier "·here will and representation, inside and outside, come
mysteriously, untltinkably together, converting human bMSS to a
ki11d of walking philosophical conundrum. There is an un<pannable
gulf between our immediote presence to ourselves, and our indirect
representational knowlcdgt: of everything else. This, of course, is the
most banal of Romantic dichntomie.<; but Schopenbauer lend< it an
original inflection. If he prMlc'cs the inward in Romantic >tylc, he
nevertheless refuses to valorize it. This swift, umnediated knowledge
of ourselves, far from signifYing some id02l truth, is nothing other
than our anguished apprehension of the appetitive wiU. There is
indeed a style of <ngnitioo whlc:h by-paASes the uncertain bboDrS of
the concept, but it demers no value whatsoever. My inmirive
presence ro myself is the site of a problem, not of some logocenrric
solution; aod in any ca.~ J can know the viii at v.'Ork within my body

170
 THE Dr..ATH OF DESill

on!)· phenomenally, never in it$elf. Hut if the liJWlOfllneoll$ and

immediate are lhus brusqudy WICuupled from creativil)', one of lhe
cer11nl •estheticizing strategies of bourgeois idealism is conceDed at a
str<>ke. It is not, for Schopenhauer, a qutstion of elr.·ating a \':lloed
form of cogllition over a valueless one, but of suspending the -whole
question of value ilself, inemicobly bound up .u it is with the
terrorism of desire. The only true valut would be to abolish value
altogether. 'l'hls, Indeed, is the valueless value of the aesthetic state-
the illSight that things just are eternally what they are, lhe mind-
bending drama of 1111 objet.~'• slxcr idcntil)' wilh ibdf. To acl<nowledge
this ent.11lsa kind ofinlllition; but it is inlllidon to the second power, a
will-less overcoming of the spontliMOUS movement of y,ilJ, which
aUows us to guc unmoved for t moment into the very bean of
darkness as tht objecv; around u.< grow more luminously replete,
more satisfyingly pointless, and we ourselves dwi!ldle gradually away
to nothing. .
Despite its dispassionatenes.s, the aesthetic would seem best
figured by either weeping or laughing. lfit.signl[oes an infinite fellow-
feeling for otbcn, it is also the Incredulous cackle of one who bas
extricated himself from the wholt squalid melodrama and sun>eys it
from an Olympian height. These aotithetical n:sponscs an: deeply
interrelated, in the tt:tgicomedy of the Schopenhauerian \isioo: l
suffer with you btca- I know that your inntr stuff, the. cruel will, is
also my M\'11; but since everything Is built from this lethal subsfll!lcc, I
scorn its futility in a burst ofbbsphelll()lls laughter. The aesthetic is
the noblest form of cugnitn·c and cthicol truth; but what it tells us is
that reason is useless and emancipation Inconceivable. As an apon:tic
stat• in which UIW i~ simuhaoeously alive and dead, moved and
umnoved, fUlfilled and erased, it is a condition which has gone
beyond all conditions, a solution which testifies in its very contra-
dic~oriness to the impossibility of a solution. Schopenhauer's wori< is
thus tht ruin of all those JtiP! hopes which bourgeois idcallsm has
invested in the idea of the aesthetic, even lhoogh it renuins faithful to
the aesthetic as some ultimate rtdemption. A discourse which btgan
as an idiom of the body has now become a flight from c<KpOrcal
el<istence; a disintertstednes.< which promised the possibility of an
alternative soda! order is now an alternative to ltistory ibd( By some
curious logic, the aesthetic bas tnded up demoli.shin! the vtry
category of subjectivity it was intended to foster. The embarrnssing

171
rift in a Kant or Schiller between the actual and the ideal, civil society
and ae>1hetic G....mtulu.jl, has now been pressed 10 a destrUCtive
extreme, as any practical coDDtctioo berwcen the two spheres Is
summarily rejected. Schopenhouer tells in his own dourly universali1.ing
wuy the plain, unvomished ia1e of bourgeois civil society, in fine
disregard for the affirmative ideolosical glosses; and he Is clear-eyed
and c:ourag~ enough to pursue the grim implications of this
narrati\>e to their scandalous, insupporlllble condusions.

I Anhur Schopcohaucr, Tilt IY.md., Will •1111/lrprcrtotatiim, tn. E .F J.

Pt)m (New York, 1969), rot. 2, p. 284. All subsequent references to !his
worl are given after quotations in 1hc lcxt.
2 See alw, for one I)( nwnerous :uuicip:uicn.< of Freud, Sc.hopenbauer's
COIIUJlmt that 'the intellea remaills so much ududod from the rcol
resotutions and secret decisions of ita own 'Will that tometimes it can only
ger to lnow them, Uke those I)( a SttmJtt, by spying out and Wdt>g
Ull4wutS; and it must surprise tbe will in the act of expre<sing itsdl; in
order mcrdy to discmcr it.~ rHl intmtiou.s• (2, 209).
3 See 'W:dtn- Benj:u:nim, 1TheHS on the!: Philuwphy orHi.~IUry', in Hannah
i\rcodt (ed.), 111-~ (London, 1970).
4 Few the io.Rucncc.ofSchopcnbautt oa \\,..ltfFnstein, see Patrick Gardiner,
Sdoopm!M#rr (Harmondrwonb, 1963), pp. 275-82, and Brian 1\.bcee.
17rt Plti!.,cplly o{Sdt.,.,U.4t1rr(Oxford, 19113), pp. 281>-JIS. A S<lm<Wiut
dtreadbare account of Sclwpcohauer's aesthetics is ttl be (ouod in
L Knox, 11uAarlutit'}l..,;n o{Kar11, Hf#{, _,SrMpmlo•- (New York,
1958).

172
 7

Absolute Ironies: Snren Kierkegaard

It is surprising in a s"""' lh:Jt Suro:n Kierlu:g:10rd - ironist, jester,

aposde of the aporetic and enemy of aU tocalil)' - has not rccci>cu
more anenlinn in a demnstructive age. In another sense, it is hardly
surprising at all: for Kierkegaard combines his devotion to difference,
sporti.e humour, play with pse!ldooyms and gueriDa-rald< on tbe
metaphysical with a pas•ionatcly one-siuL-d commitment, by which
few ofour modem ironists arc likely to feel anything but unsettled. In
an era when neither existentialism nor evangeHcal Protestnntism are
In intellecrual f"'hion, it may be wonll casting a glance back at this
solitary eccenlr.ic, whose power to disrum has been ~ss ....eakened by
those shifts in fashion than one: might have suppos<d.'
One of Kierkeg3ru-d's many uctntriciries is his attitude 10 the
aesthelic. Of the major phaosopben from Kant to Habeml3S, he is
one of the few who ... ruse to assign it any pndominant value or
privileged starus. He thus stands srubbomly askew to tbe aesabelicizing
cum:nts of the modern European mind, wbicb is not to say that the
us thelie is not from first to lan one of hili central preoccupadons. For
him as for the originator> of the discourse, aesthetics refers not in the
first place to an but to the whole lived dimension of sensory
experience, denoting a pl>enomenology or daily lire berore it comes to
sipi(y culrunl production. As such, it indicates for Kierltegaard the
,·ery homeland ofinauthenlic:il)'. Aesthetic emtence is empty abstract
immediacy, a zone of being which predates the temporal or historical
and in which the subject's actions are only dubiously its o...n. In this
unreflective sphere, akin in some sen5e to tbe Freudian stage of early
infancy, the <ttbject 6ves in a <tale of fragmented mubiplicity, too
diffilse to be called a unitary self, unable to diffcrellliate itself from an
environment of which it is little more lhan the detemuned n:Oe..
Dreaming itself S~:nsuously 21 one with the world, it confounds iiS
<M'n exjstence wirh rhe sense-impressiOJJ in a m~noer which
resembles the Laconian register of the imaginaty. Most social fife for
Kkrk~gaard is no mom than a hightr version of this seii5Uous
passivity - 'inunetliacy wilh the addition of • little dose of sdf·
reflection', he remorks sudoni~ in Tilt Sklarns unro Dea1h'- since
few individllllls can ri'le above their social conditioning to a stale of
dctcnninatc selfhood. The judgement of the world, he commeniS in
his Jnumals, is not moral but aesthetic, admiring 'everything that ha."'
power, cwming, self.shoess'.' Middle-class sociel)' h•s never come of
ago, as mueb the deccntred pbything of iiS repetitive drives as the:
small infant.
The aesthetic, lhm, is in """ of its versions Hegel'• 'bad'
immediacy; but it is also, contradictorily, an Hescfian 'bad' in61lity of
endless self-reflcclion. This 'higher' or reflcclive sugc of the:
a~thetic represenrs a break \\ith sensuous irrunedia'-) ' - not,
however, as a movement upwattls into determinate sellhood, but
n1lher as a lapse into some abyssal speculilrity, when: irony tumbles
on lhe heels of irony y,i lh no more resolute centring of the subject
dun can be found in the 'illl2giNr)' of bodily immediacy. Hamlet and
Calibao are dms inverted mirror··images of each other; one is always,
in lh~ a~1lu:ti<:, eilho.T 100 mw;h or 100 llttle oneself, ensnared in
ac:ruality or adrift in possibility, W:killg that dlalectlul tension
between lhese realms which is def\ned by the elhical paradox of
bctooJiug what one is. RcflectiY~:no.-.s negates imrnedia<.-y, but lho.TCby
sbaners it to an inJinitc indetcnninacy nol wholly unl}pic:.l of
immediacy il5elf. The self·reRective subject, as radically empl)' as the
pseudo-self of aesthetic immediacy, crases temporality and ceuelcssly
reinvenll> iiSelf from nothing, seeking 10 preserve an unbounded
fn:edom which is in truth sheer self...:onsuming negativity. The naow.
of dlis mode o( existence is irony, of which the 6gwe of Socrates is
exemplary. Socratic Irony raises the subject out of its mindless
communion wilh lhe world, critically unhinging it from lhe real; but
since It yields no posilive alternative truth it lca•cs lhe subject giddily
suspended berween actual and i<Je,d, in and out of the world
simultano.-otr.dy. Tbe actWll is the ironist's element, 'but his course
lhrougll actuality is hovering and clhcrial, scarcely toucltinlJ the:
ground. As the: aothe11ric ldngclom of ideality is stiD alien to him, so he
17-4
has not yet emign.ted but is ar every moment, a.a it were, abour to
depan." Socntes's very existence is ironic, an inJinite negation of the
social .-.rder which Is Mnedteless still sub·edlical, S1ill to arm-.: at
determinate subjectllood. lnto>.icated by endless p.-.s.o;.ibility, later
' ab5olute' lronlsts such as Fichte and the Romantics posit and destroy
nt a stroke, living subjutiCtively or hypothetic.ally and so bereft of aU
continuity of self. Tlu: ac:sthctc-iro.W.~ lr.es actuality as sheer
poosibility, hubristicaUy usurping the divine prerogative in his
impollmt freedom to bind and loose. The despgiring subject of
Tlrt Si<*nm tmlo Dtiltl:, perversely determined to be what it is,
flambc>yand)· refashions the whole ofits finlre beirlg in the image of its
arbill"aly desire. Such aesthetic experimentalism ('enchanting like an
orient2l poem', Klerkegaard remarks) is a kind of COIIjuring of oneself
up a nihil, • t every momeor, ain1y erasing tile burden of historicity
and of the self's radical givenness. T he panache of this artistic self-
fashioning or gWing of oneself the t..w thinly conceals its nihilism: if
the subject can dissolve this ebborate fabricotion to nothing at any
moment, Its omnipotence is at one with its: nulliry. The self as
perpetual QC/e gr.:Uuil is a mere self-canceUing liberty: 'irooy, like the
old \\itch, COIISillndy makes the tantalising attempt first 10 devour
everything in sight, tben m de•onr Itself mo, or, as In the cue of tbe
uld witch, her own >"Wmacb.'' The aesthetic as free dc\<elopment of
one's multiplt puwen rcstll upon a violent, ..cuous self-willing.
'lnlnwdiate' and 'reflectin' oesthericism, then, decentre the
subject in opposed directions, either flattening it out into external
reality or plunging II fruitlessly into its own \"eniginous depths. Such
contrastive modes of aesthetic existence follow from the primacy
oondillon of the Kkrtepard!an self, as a contndittory synthesis of
finitude and in6nity. Once this precariow; unity splits apart, the
subjc:d either takes flight into :~ensuous finitude, obandoning ilsdf in
cnven conformity to the social order, or finds ilsclf IIIOIISttOIISly
inOated and vulalilized, carried drunkenly outside of itself in tllat
'pn:JCess of infinitizing' who5C illsidious root is the atsthetic
Imagination. t\5 an aporetle blooding of necessity and poulbllily, the
unregenerate self finds that tuh of these dimensions tends constantly
to outtun the other: 10 will not to be oneself is just u spiritually
desperate as m wiD deliandy to be It, m spurn necessity quite as
catastrophic as to deny possibility.
If irony is the joker In the aesthetic pack, tbe fault-Hne or
175
dccoostruc:tivc p<>inl at whim sell and world are initially uncoupled,
then it can be said to provide a threshold bcJWecn the aestlu:tic and
the ethical. It is lhe origin:uy splining or culling edge which enables
the subject to effect itS passage from the dtccntn:d immediacy of the
aesthetic 'imagin.uy' to the unifu:d, differentiated Slale of the ethical
'symbolic order'. Socrnles in Tire C9nt<(H of Irony is in this sense a
liminal figure, teererillg on the very brink of determinate subje<.1hwc.l
without yet having achieved sellhood as resolved project and
au10nomous decision. Only with judaism wiD lite law or elhit:~l sl2ge·
proper be ushered in. If the hoUow inOnirudc of lhc ironic recalls the
'bad' immedbcy of the aeslhedc, the two conditions being akin in
their utter iBdelerminacy, the ironic neverthele.s nogolcs lhat
immediacy and so opens up a transition to the elhi<:al. Since irony
cannot avoid ))O<iting what it negates, it ends up by negating its own
negativity and thu.s allowing the affirmative tn appear. h is oot) then,
thai irony is to be rejected; on the contr.uy, as we siWI sec, it pnr.idc:s
the m3!ri• of much of Kierkegurd's """' ,.Tiling. Irony Is essential,
but as a 'mastered moment' within the endlessly unfinished process of
truth - a moment wbieh as opposed to ' bad' innmiJI 'limits, renders
finite, .refines, and thereby yields trulh, actuality and content .. .'.'
honizing is not !hereby it>df nega1ed, brought to an obn1pt closure by
the act of commianent; instoad, it Uvc:> on "" the vory form of that
commitment, wh.ich knows a wry d i~crepancy berween itt O\lll'l intense
inwardness and the externnl wurlcl ,.;th which it oonlinues lo havt
practical involvements. Commitment lhus raisc:s lhc ambirucncc of
irony to a higher Jew:~ prescn·ing someming of its sceptical stance
towards socinl reali1y but combining it wid1 positive belief. To tbut
extent, irony is sublated to humour and comedy, whim in dc:bun!Ung
the world's pretensions carry with them a deeper positi\ity than
Souatic subversion.
There Is another mode of negativi!y in !Gerkegaard which in\-ad<s
the o1.herwise replete sphere of acsthedc immediacy, and this is !he
cxpcricn<:c of dread. Dread is the self's eru:oun1er wilh iiS own
nothingness, or more particularly our response 10 mat unseuling
niant which haunts even the pwest sensual bck of self-mnscioldncss.
Even u~thctic immediacy, dreaming its blissful undifTerentmion,
always already betrayS some elusive negalioa, '!llhicb would seem a
kind of dim premonition of difference, olhemess and freedom. It is as
tlwugh spirit is already glimpsing its own future pos.<ihilities within

176
 ADSOU.rn; fRONtES

the serene self-igoor:mce of the aesthetic - a.< though, in Hegelian

rerms, the annulment of immediacy i• an imtmnent muwmtnt· wilhin
immediacy itself. The very repletcMss of the aesthetic state WUIOI
help being sinisterly suggestive of lack - nut, to be sure, lack of
something 5P"cific, for then how could this state be said to be replete,
but an absenc.!. necessotily entailed by its OWil sheer eJ<istence. One
might describe this uncanny feeling in Hcldeggerian or Sauelan
terms, as that nameless anxiety we tlq>erience when the very fullness
of some object unavoidably calls tu mimi the non-being it luis
contingendy filled in; or OM could picture it altemalively as
thai moment within the Lacanian ima~ary - the dim presence
of the mo«ber beside the child's mirror-image, for example -
which thru lens to puncture its coherence. It might even be that
Kierkegaardian dread has rcsonUK'cs of Julia Kristcva's cate~ of
the 'abject', that origin.afl' COI'J)erience of nausea, horror and diswtc
involved in our 6rst efforts to sep•r.lle out from the pre-oediplll
mother.' Whatever the appropriate model, it is clear that for
Kierkegaard there can be no genuine aesthetic, Edenic or pre-oedipal
innocence- tllat the FaU has always already ~ned. otherwise how
would Adam have been able to oiolate God's injunction In the first
place? Adam'• di>obcdicncc is viewed in The Crmcrpt ofDrt41i as an
absurd aporu: it was from his tranlllFCSSion that a knowledge of
difference sprang, so tho.t in this sense it was tlte primordi.;al
prohibition itself, in Freudian style, "'bich opened up desire; yet
Adam could not have fallen unless some vague pre-understanding of
lhe possibility offreedum was alre&dy at work wilhi.n his prelapsarian
innocence, to be catal}1cd by the taboo iiSelf. 1\dam was thereby
awakened to the pure possibility of freedom, of d1e simple state of
lx:ing able, and this is the condition of dread. Dread, Kicrkegaard
comments in strikingly ScbiDerian terms, 'is not a determinant of
oecessily, but neither is it of freedom; it is • trammeUed freedom,
wbere fn:edom is not fn:e in itselt' but trammeUed. not by ne~essity
but in itscl.P .• Li.l:e ScbiDer's aesthetic condition of being, dread is
undecidably suspended between fn:edom and necessity; but what for
SebiDer wu a supremely positl\'e Sllla: of nameless pocential is for
Kicrt.egaard a form of ontological 411gi(.
'Sin presupposes irselr. Kicrkegaard writes, meaning perhaps that
ils oriains arc In any a:mporal seliSe quite Ullthinkable. Sin lw no
place or source, lying as it does under the sign of cootrndiction. To
177
 sin is to have been always already able to do so; and sinfuln..,. i.• thu.•
as much the ruin of any rarional ethics or bunt for manscendent.Jl
origins as lhe ~rience of dn:ad i> the immanent ocg-•lion of
innocence. Certainly any mythological temporalization of the FaU, as
with Pamdut [.,.,, wiD tend to run headlong into insurmoumable
paradox, as n., Concrpr 6/DrtaJ makes clcar.lf 1\dam is the sowce of
original sin then he did nor luve that t.Jint hi~lf, which puts him
outside the race be father..I and thereby excludes him from the fruits
of the Atonement. If he is the only Individual to have no history, then
the race stems from an individual v•ho '\\'act nor an individual, a racr
which anuuls the con''CJ'IS of both race and indr.i~ual. How cOI.Ild the
human race have a source outside itself? And if there can be no
transrenden~1l origin which escapes contamination by the history it
gt.-ncratc~ then then: is oo urlJinary innUCL"ncc, and innOce-nce thus
springs into the world under the sign of its own ensure, 'comes into
existence as that which was before it w:l!) nnnull~d and is now
annuUed'.9 lnncx'l!ru:c is thus not a perfection to be recovered, 'for 1>
soon as one wishes for it, it is lost' .•• LW: Adam, we aU bring sin into
the world; what is originary is n<>t innO<.•mce but that structural
possibility of transgression which mUSl always already have bt-cn
present, the anguished awareness of which is dread. Dread is a kind
of floating signifier, a dim primordial stnse of the possibility of
difference before difference ba$ acrually occurred, what Kierkegaard
calls 'freedom's :appearance befOre lndf In posslbUity'." It is less
immediacy's groping apprehension of some pos:1ibility othtr than
itself than, 1$ it were, the dawning of the possibility ofpcl§IOili\y itself
- less the Intuition of an ocher than the first stirrings of the ve'1'
categorial possibility of otherness. There is a paranoid dimension to
this condition, since sucb otherness is at once intimidating and
attracti.. in its indeterminacy, generating V~ilat Klerkegaud c:alls
'antipethetic sympathy'. As lollg as the other ·remains beyond the
self's pop, the subject is uuable to defme itself and so remains
extrinsic to its own bclnr, but tbc aruciety of this swe is also curiously
pleasurable, since for the subject ro define itself in the other Is to find
and 1ooe itself simultanenU<Iy. The self's ov;o nothingness is ooth
alluring and repcUent to it, combining as it does the terrors and
seductions of the sublime. It Is thus not swprising to find
Kierkegaud aSl!OC'jating dn:ad especially with women, who are
similarly both ftarful and teq>tlng. Dread Is a 'womanish debility In

178
 ARSOU.Tn: IR0:-'105

which freedom sWflOns'," embodying like the sublime 'tho c:goi"ic

infinity of possibility, wbkb does not tempt like a definite choice, but
alanus and fascinotes with its sweet anxiety'." In her very sensuous
immtdiacy, her aes~tici.<t lack of spirit, woman will inspire the 1ttanl
of dread and su figure, contradictorily, as a sublime abyss ready lo
engulf the timorous self. Dread is !he 'inexplicable ootbing' which
shadows aU sen.<uality, the faintest, purely negative trace of spirit
lllrking within it, and thus a suirablc image of !he inna<:ent,
areacherou.< female:
Even that which, humanly speaking, is the mOSI. beautiful
and lovable thing of aU, a feminine youthfulness whlch
L< sheer peace and harmony and joy- even that is despair.
For Ibis indeed is happiness, but happiness is nut a
cbaneterlstic of spirit, and in lhe remote depths, in !he
most inward parts, in d1e hidden recesses of happine>s,
there dweDs also the anxious dread which is despair . . .
All immediacy, In spite ofits illusory peace and tranquility,
is dsead, and heDCe, quite consistently, it is dseod of
nolhing •.. "
The more perfect a woman is, in short, the sicker she must be - just.
as the sensuous cheerfulness of an~nt Greece, cxduding 'spirit' as it
does, is for Kieri:egoard onrshadow.od hy a profound SOIT(IW. Dread
i> durt place where spirit will later be, and which in anticipa~ its
arrival opens up within sellSIIOus plcuur~ the ~mpty apace in which
5piril "'ill germin•te. The 3tSihetic for Kierkegaard is thus inseporable
from disease, even if such disease is the nea:ssary barbingt'r of a
tramition to the et:hiul swe. Sensuousness is not in itself sinful, 1ht
CATI«f't 9/ Dr<tld iooisls: but without sin there is no sexuatity. The
recognition of difference and otherness c:sscntial for sexuality to
operaJe arc :tl<a <rructurnl pos.<ibiliries of sinfulnes<; and since
without scxua~ty there can be no history, sin is the prcconditioo of
both. It Js in Ibis sense, !hen, that sin is origjrull - not as some
t.r.mscendenl31source from "'hich a pustlopsarian history Oo...s, but as
that ever-pn:scnt c'Onditioo of fn:cdom, difTcrtnct and othcmo:ss
which underUes our historiclll existence.
In c..,ntrast to !he polymorphous indeterminacy of t.lte aesthetic,
the ethical sphere for Kiertegaard sign!Jies :mrithe<i<, decision,

179
strenuously one-sided commitment. Ifthe oestherie subject inhabits •
p"'J'Ctual presenJ·, as a kind oflow...- parody of th• ell!mal momont uf
faith, the ethical self, through some impassioned resolution in the
present, bind• its guilty post (dul)· acknowledgod and -.epented of) to
a futul'e of unrelllized possibilities. h is thus lh•t it brings ilsclf into
being as a determinare, remporally con.•istent subject, oDe 'lensed' in
every sense of the term. The paradox of this projecr is that the self
both docs and does not cxisr prior to this m ·olulionary crisis of self-
choosing: for the word 'choice' to have meoning me self must
somehow pre-~SI thai momenr, 001 it is equaUy true that it emerges
into being unly lhruush this at:t uf dccisi<lfl. Oucc !hat de<isiun io
taken, a.~ .a fund.amenbl orienurion of one's being nther than at an
option for this or thai particular, it must be ceaselessly re-enacted;
and this process of <'1Klkss bccomin~. in which the >ubjct:t binds
together its history inro a self-consistent project, might seem in one
sense a form of aesthetic se)(- fashiooning. What distinguishes it from
such exotic auto-invention, however, is not only its radical one-
sidednes." bur its openness 10 .U that in !be subject which is sheerly
gft'"'• its inescapable 6nitude and guilt-ridden temporality. If ethical
self-determinalioo is a kind of aesthetic constnlct, it is one "tlose
unity is fraught ;md provisional, wh05t origin lies beyond it• own
mastery and whose end is nowhere in view. !11 any case, it breal.
dccisr.·cly with the incnia of aesthetic being for the dynamic ~cruurc
of becoming, marked as it l< hy a passi<loale inrerestedness which
•purm the alaraxy of the aesthclic as much as it denounce• the lolly
disintcres~edness of spccu.latlve thouJbt. (Humollt, Klerkegaard
remarked, wos his own alternative to 'objective' thought, a more
fruitful form of delllchmenr.) To tive in the ethical is to be infinitdy
interested in ~•ling - 'existing' for Klerkegaard sigMyillg a wk
rather than a <km•k, something to be achieved r.lther !han received.
Aeslhctic and lbcoretical disinterestedness will nr:vtT yidd access to
goodness and tn11h; only aa implacable paniS21!Shlp can hope to do
that. To see life truthfuDy is to see it neilber sreadily nor whole; the
tn1rh is loaded, tendentious, jealously exclusille in a way no liberal
pluralism or aeslbetic .U-roundedoess can comprehend." 'That don'
is Kicrkegoard's contemptuous ride for the Hegel who sought
studiously to encompass C\'ery aspect of reality within Ills mighty
totatizarion.
In >lO far as it is ut all possible 10 distinguish subject and object in
180
 ABSOLtJT(. JRO:-llts

the sphere of usthe tic immcdi2cy, this register of being C2n he said to
involve a mutlllllity of inner and out<r worlds. It is this symmetri<.'al
interchange which the ' rcOcctive' aesthetic disrupts: the self·ironizing
n=issist either ignores the eXIemal world entirely, or treats it m=ly
as the manipulable material of his fanll!Sies. The seducer of Eithtr/Or
is preoccupied with his own erotic strategies, not with the hapless
object of them; his reOectivenc.s, so to speak, has b«:ome hi~
immediacy. To exist ironically is to tive a discrepancy beoveen
inward and extern.!, ambiguously su.<pended berween one's negating
sobjcclivity and the world it confronts. To !he extent !hat the
aesthetic is conventionally viewed as a harmonious relation of subject
and object, irony m•y thus be regarded as an anti-aeslhetic mode. For
Socrates, 'the outer and the inner did not form • hormonious u.nity,
for the outer was in opposition to the inner, and only through this
refracted angle is he to he apprehended.'14 The attainment of dte
ethical brings with it a rum to the subject, since the only ethically
pertinent is..QJe is one,s M\'ll inner reality; yet since the ethic:~l :also
concerns the public sphere, the relation of the individual to the
universal, it .recreotes a certain 'aesthetic' commensurability or
subject and objet.~ at a higher level. Such, certainly, is the ethia!l
id.cology of Judfl" Wlihclm of Eit!ttr/Or, who finds ill I!W'riafl" a
prototype of the ethical life. Marriage for WOhelm unites subj«:tive
feeling with an objective institution, and in doing so reconciles the
aminomlcs of individual and unlve..al, sensuou.< and spiritual,
freedom and necessity, rime and eternity. Such ctllics are thus the
very model uf Hegelian synthesis, and as such, for Wilhelm's authoc,
deeply suspect. 'The Hegelian philosophy', Kitrkega.anl writes in
C,mkling Umti..uific Postscript, 'culminates in the proposition that
the outward is the inwnd and the inward is the outward. With this
Hegel virtually finishes. But this principle i.< es.<enlially an ae~thtric·
metaphysictl one, and in this way the Hegeli2n philosophy is happily
finished, or is fnu<lulendy Dnished, by Jumping every11llnf (includlog
the ethical and the religious) indlscrimlnately in the aesthedc-
metaphysical.'" Wilhelm's eminendy bourgeois ethics, with their
,·aJues of work, family, duty and civic obligation, bi2Ddly e><pei all
contradiction in !heir obsessive mediations. As such they Stalld under
the judgement of Kierkeguard himself in his :foumoJs: 'let us not
speak aesthetically, as if the cthiul were a happy genialll)•.'" Wilhelm
clcntes the ethical above tht aestberic, yet his ethics •re modelled on

181
the very aesthetic notions they seek to transcend. For him, the elhical
pcrsonaliiY is !be truly beautiful, an absolute which like !be artefact
contains its teleology within itself. The ethical life, as a S)mmelrical
mediation of subject and object, inward and· outward, Individual and
univemal, is a splendidly ooofficr-free anefoct of •umnomously s.elf-
detennining particulars; and it is prccisdy such aestheticized ethics
which for Kicrktpord himself will be wrenched open and undermined
by religious faith.
Such faith shatters the smooth mediations of the ethical, subvem
the oomplaundy autonomous self and srands askew to all merely civic
virtue. Its intense inwardness thwarts any equitable interchange of
subject and object, ~king as ir does any 2dequate objective
correlative: •Christi3niry is spirit. spirit is imv.udness, inwardness is
subjecti-vity, subjecti>ity is essenti21ly JWSion, and in its ma>imum an
infinite, pers002l. passionate interest in one's eternal happiness.'"
Tbis ardent subjectivism is relendessly particular, resistmt· to all
dWcctical mediation and universalization. The religion of an ethicist
like WHhelm L< no more than an underpinning of the universal, pan of
a rational discourse of totality which for Kierkegaard is bound to
sblpwreck on lhe rock of faith. Such smugly idealizing talk is unable
fully to aclnowledge the realities of sin aod guHt- the fact that before
God we are always already in the wrong, that the self carries a
crippling burden of suffering and injury wblch cannot be blandly
sublated. Sin is the S£andal or .munbling hlock upon which aU
'pbi.losclpby' and rational cthks is bound to come a •Topper: 'If •1hi•-.
mu.~ include sin, its ideality is lost ... an ethics !bat ignores sin ls an
alrogether futile discip~ne, but on"" it postulates sin it bas"' ipso gone
beyond itself.'"' The crux of Christian faith, !be Incarnation, is
similarly the ruin of all reason- the truth dult, in some mind-warping
paradox, !be ekmally oninteUigible Olher became finite aod fleshly.
Unlike the Hegelian Ideo, God i.s wu impt:nernble otherness, and
the claim that a man <ould in.:amate him in dme is thus wholly
absurd. f'or Kierl:egaar<llhcre i> oo ne<'ess&ry relation between time
and eternity, which remain spheres quite extrinsic to each oilier; God
do« not, fH1U Hegel. need the world, tempor26ty is no pan of his
necessity, and his appearance in history is therefore the breach of all
immanence and c:ondnllity. .Because God is IIOl Immanent in time,
bislory is less some rational, emlulionary tmality than a series of free,
contingent events. It is nevcttbclr:ss with this finite, degraded, empty

182
 ABSOLUTE IIWI\'IES

time that the inJinite bas mysteriously intcmc~cd; and !he failh of!he
indmdual mu~ strUggle tn :IJ'I'Mt>ri>te thi.~ obj~erive •bsurdity. Such
un oppropmtion might be seen as lhe effort towards a higher form of
commensurability between subject and object, but bolh of these items
are now opoque and oporeric. The relation between lhem is thus
fraught wilh internal colllllliliction, ac~ntuating the oppositions it
momenwily overcomes. If faith rc:eonstimtes a kind of tmity, and so
is to tltat degree ' aesmetic', it is a fissured unity always about to split
apan apin, and one that has therefore 10 be ceaselessly reapproprimd
in that. act which Kierkegaard names 'repetition'. Faith is tbu.~ an
endless tasl< rather than a triumphont Hegelian closure - a kind of
momentary paradoxical overcoming of the gap between inner and
outer, holding fast to the objective in a su.tge ofintensive inwardness:
'an objecti\'l! uncertainty, held fast in the mos1 p.,..;onat• appropriation
of inwardness, is the trulh, !he hil!hes. trUth there is for an crisring
irrdivilbuJ ... The truth L• precisely the 'enture which chooses an
objecrive tmcenainty with the passion of the infutite. '" The
' knowledge' of faith Is thus a SClR of unlty· ln-confllcr, as the subject
binds itself unconditionally to nn objective reality it recngni>.es as
problematic.
As such, faith involves a similarly unstahl<! relation tn the e1<temal
world. In abaudoninf the fmitc for the infinite, it opens up an •byss
beNe en outer :tnd inner; but this gesnore is shadowed by a movement
of b~ which red~rs a son of workaday oommen.snrability wim
the world, accepting the finite for what it is in the irunizing tight of
Infinity. Faith, Kicrkegaard c<>mmcnu, must grasp lhe eternal but
also somehow hold fast 1o the finite after having gi'"n up: 'To have
one's daily life In lhc decisive dialecric of the infinite, and yet to
continue ro 6ve: tit is is both rhe art oflife and ils difficulty.'" Turning
tuwards and awiy frum rcolity in • n endloss dual movement, the
subJect of faith thus knows at once something of Jbc inner/outer
disiunction nf the 'reRecth·e• aesthetic, and tbat more hannoniotls
inten:hange ofsubject and object which is the ethical. But this is not a
condition Ia be comfanably inhabited or routinely lived: it can never
cryst:>llite into eu..<tom 0< spontaneou• hahir, and an e<tablish itself
as o J>f'mlnJlant, coUet:tive, insritutionalizt>d fonn ol life (Hegel's
SiJIIidtktirl only at the J!m'C risll. of inauthr:oticil)'. l:'aith for
Kkrkegaard can ru:ver be naturalized in this ""Y• a.'ISimilated In the
unconscious morn and lradirians of a social order, and so resists the

Ull
pUipOses of political hegemony. If the ethics of a Judge. Wilhelm are
an aestheti<ized """'ion of religious belief, reflecting • pleuu~le,
instinctual conformhy ro universal law, th2r belief for his author is ar
once roo dramatically individuali.r and roo perpetually in crisis to nil
!he wheels of daily social life. Fairll is J:airos rarher !han custom, fear
and trembling rarher !han culrural ideology. hs absolure disdains the
logic of social evolution and strikes ob~quely, apocalwticaUy into
time, so thar for Kicrkcpard as much as for Walter Benj:unin every
moment is the <trait w.ue rhrough which the Messi>h might enter:U
Nor dOtS such belief, for all of its radical individualism, ykld much
comfort to the autonomous ego of the bourgeois ethical sphere.
Religious commibnent is indeed a queslion of free self-delennination;
but in choosing oneself one assumes one's personal mility in aD its
unre~nerate facticicy, as always in !be wrong before God, and as an
ultirn.udy unma.<terable m)Siery. Only the agonized adnowledt;ement
of aU this wbich is repentence can unmake and remake rhe subject,
rarher !han some fantasy of'free' aesthetic sclf·inyenrion. The self for
Kierkegaard i.5 a unity of freedom iUld necessity, spirir and sense,
infinity and finitude; but these antinomies C8MOl be d!ought on the
model of some rational dialectic. Wbat Is at wort in tbe moment of
faith is some •J>Oreric, undecidable relation offreednm and necessity,
of the svbject's uucr depend~)' on d!at which it neverthc:l<:SS opts
lor and actively appropriarcs. 'f'r~edom really only abtr because the
san>e inst•nt it e.isrs it rushes with inJ\oite speed to bind itself
unconditionally by dJoo~;ng resignation, tbc choice of wbid1 it is true
!hat in it !here is no question of a choice.'" Since d!e commitment of
faith is and is not the subject's own free act, it can be understood
neither on the model of aestheti< immcdiacy, wbcrc the self can
hardly caU its actions its own, nor on rhe palttm of rhe self· fashioning
bourgeois ego, which would recognize no determinants beyond its
own precious libeny. The self clung to in f.Uth will alwa)-s remain an
enigma for the rolional ego, plagued as It ls by contradictions which
can be resoloed only exisrentially rather than thO()rerically, leashed
prorisionaUy IOJed!er in lbe moment· to·mommr venture of elcistence
rather dian unified in the tranquillity of the concept or in some
stabilized attefact. Instead of identity annulling d!c principle of
contradiction, KXrkegaard writes in his Coodudmt: Unsticotif"~<
PMtJ<ript, It ls conrndiction !hat annuls identity.
To shift from the aesthetic to the ethical i.< not to liquidate !he

184
 ABSOUII'E IRONIES

former. ' In choosing itself the personality chooses itself ethi«<ly and
el<(;ludes absolutely the 31!$1httica!, but since it is itself it chooses and
it does not become anomer being by choosing itself, the whole of the
aeslberical comes back again in iiS rebli\U)'.'" If it is this unregenerate
self which the elhical transfigures, then it must hove truck with lhe
very aesthetic life·S1)1e it upbraids. Similarly, the religioll5 by no
means merely erases the ethical, but puts it, as Kicrkegaard
comments, inro 'teleological suspension'. The figure o( such suspension
I< the Abraham of Ftar attd Tmt~l1/ing, who In hi< fidelity to a God
bt:)'<llld aU reason comes to >"tand above and outside the ethical-
uni~rsal realm in a direct, unmediated relation to the absolute. for
Abnbam to sacrifice his son Isaac is to do nothing for the univers.11-
would indeed, from this viewpoint, be ro commit murder- and is thus
an act offensive to all KantW! and Hegelian reason. Abraham tm'eb
beyond the frontiers of the ethical into that paradoxical territory of
faith where language fails, sinec if lanpgc raises the panicular to the
general it is itself ineluct.ably on the side of the uoil<trsal. What is
t:u:;tomarily thought dillicult is not to rust as an indr.idual, bttt to
transcend that pa)IJ! egoism and tr2nslate oneself illlo the ttnm:rsal.
For Kierlegaard, however, the problem is .,.actly the olher way
round. 'ThA:re is a spurious aesthetic facility about the 'knight of faith'
of FrM dM Trembling who 'knows !tis ~udful and benign to be the
particular who trauslates himself into the unive.rsal, lbe ooe who so to
speak makes a clear and elegant edition of hlmseiJ; as Immaculate a.•
possible, nod readoble for all . . .'." Such aesthelicired ethics,
speciously translucent and li1i6/r, in which the individual's cOildurt
becomes ll1lllinowly intelligible in the light of the lllliversal, knows
nothing o( the harsh opacity of faith and ofthe radu:al umcadability of
those subsisting in contr.adiedon. It is not in reladon to the Kantian
unioter.;al of pr3Ctical reason that Abraham's lunatic loyalty '11>ill
become decipherable, but in relation to an absolute impenti\·e w!Uch
can never lK specuiWely mediated.
'"Rt31ity" cannot be conceived,' Kierkegaard remlllds himself in
bisJourll4ls;" and e~hen:, 'the particular cannot be thought. "'It is
this which "'ill be the downfall of aesthedcs - of tbe discourse which
seeks within the unique panicular a kind of rational uruaure. The
folly nf such a project i.• just the fact that existence is radi«<ly
beterogeneOII$ to thought -lbat the whole notion of a thought supple
enough to penetrate lived experience and deliver up its secret is an

185
 idealis1: chin1era. The n>etap}l)sical principle of identity- the identity
of lhc subje-ct wilh i1>clf, wilh objects, wilh ulhcr subjects - t-rumblcs
before the fact of e.Ostence ilselt; which is precisely the an~'Uished
separation of subject and object ruther than thoir spontaneous unity.
It follows for Kierltegaanl that any a-ust in the immediate transpuency
of one buman subject to onolher, any dream of •n aesrhelic
intersubjectivity or empath<tic communion of individuals, rests on
!his pernicious ideology of identity, and corresponds well enoo§h to
!he absrr•ctly equivale11ced subjects of the bourgeois ethical and
political domains. He writes of lhe ' ncptiw unity of the mutual
reciprocity of individwls' in such a sod:!I order, and of 'levelling' as
the triumph of abstraction 0\'<'1' puticular liws.,. Wbat<Wr community
oflove may be possible in some hi§her, religious sphere ofbeings who
rdale 10 each other through the absolute of faith, it remains true of
secular history that hU111Jln subjeCts are profoundly imp<nelnble and
inac""'-<ible to one another. The reality of another for m< is never a
given fact, only " 'possibilily', which I can never mimetically
appropriate as my own. That imaginatil'C, cmplthedc imitation which
for eaclier thinkers was the very foundati<Jn of human sociality is here
abruptly dismissed; ah~ can be uo direct. oommunicat;i().n betweef)
irreducibly pmicular indi\iduals. No subject's inwardness can be
!mown other than indirecdy: all believers are, like jesus, 'incognitos',
causht in zn ironic discrepancy between their passionate, secreiWe
subjecti\'ity and their bland appcaram:c to olhcrs as citizCIIS of the
pubtic world. F:>ith, 31111 the individual, 3re that which cannot be
represented, and so are at root anti-aesthetic. The"""' development
of the •!!"• Kicrkegaard writes in hisJ~umals, cannM be political, for
politics is a question of the dialectical relation of individual and
community in the representative individual, and 'in our times the
indi•iduol is in t.he proce&s ofl:~ecoming far too reflective to be able to
be satisfied ..ith mcn:ly being rt7Jrerrntcd. '"' Politics and ae.lhetics
thus fall together: bach are given over to the fruidcss wk ofseeking to
subsume the specific ~~oithin the •bstract universal, and so simply
annul what they strive to sublate.

If Kicrkegaard i< not to be caught in a performative contradiction,

then it follows that what he asserts of the impossibility of direct
communicalion must logically apply to his own writings too. It is !his
...hi<:h necessitates his play of pseudonymous personae, as a set nf

186
 perilla-raids on the n.'3der's false cOn$tiousnc:u, a crabwise
!lklnnishlng ~~oitereby dlc re2der must be approached obliquely,
duplicirously, if genlline enlightenment is to d:nm. The author C2nnot
appear a.s some brash 'town crier of inwardness' but must practise
instead a kind of Soeratic ignorance, as the feigned or ficme pre-
condition of the reader's true ignornoc-e becoming reveale4 to him.
Kierllcgaard's writcrly suategy thus resembles that of a te\'Olutionary
propagandist in hard political rimes who promulgatts a stream of
pamphlets which du no more than question the linUts uf her
~adership's left-leaning tiberalism. Rather thil!l confront the ~ader
.,;th on absolute truth which would only be rejected, Kierl<egaard
must to•'ertly enter the reader's own viewpoint in order to d«Onstr<l(.1 it
from the inside, 'going along with the odter's delusion', .. he puts it,
so as r.o deceive them into the religious domain. He speaks therefore
of his pscudooymous -..vrl<s as his 'aesthetic production': ' I always
stand in an altogether poetic relation ro my work, and I am, therefore,
o p,;.,udon)UL '" If the reader is presumed to inhabit the aesthetic
sphere, drinn by wayward impulse rather than ethically resolute,
then as Kierkegurd comments in A{y P1inr Q/ Via"' Dn AorJun it
would hanlly be appropriate to break rudely in on him with a direct
diJcussioo of Christianity. Instead, one invites the reader ro debate
aesthetics, and arrives at the truth in mat sideways mO\"ement. If rnult
ilsdfis resolutely subjC4"1ivc, then its conv<-yaoa: demand> some more
clttum.q>eet medium tlu.D the 1angwge nf scienritic objecrivily. That.
more underhand mode i~ the aesthetic, involving as it does 'an
awareness of the form of the communication in relation to lhc
recipient's possible misundersttnding'." An aesthetic di..:ourse i.<
on• which revises and reflects back upon itsolf in the ve.ry act of
enunciation, illl utterance raised to the second power which overhears
itselfin the ears of its recipients. If it is rru.. that 'all receiving cnn.<ist<
in producing'." then writing must reach out to engage the freedom of
its readers to accept or reject the offered rruth as they wish, thus
figuring in Its very struct~~U something of the CI)J)hC, undemo..,nable,
non·apodictic nature of trulh itself. Writing which .,..,.. nut in thC;
sense radically dialogical, constituted in in -.ry lener by a putative
readerly response, would cancel in its <ery fonn the emancipatury
content of the truth it prolTcrcd. T ruth and irony, passiooate
commitment and serpentine scepticism, are therefore for Kierl<egaord
accomplices rnthcr than antitheses of one onothu; it is not that auth

187
is dttlogical 'in itselr , bur rather that its \'ery relentless absolutism
renders it urul!lldable for a fallen history and so consll'llins it to re-
emerge as irony, deception and feigned ignorance_ The problem is
not that truth is 'indeterminate'; it is quire delenninate enough, but
simply absurd. As such, it can be encompassed neither by the ideology
of self-identity o()t" by the dogmatism of an endless decomtrucrive
irony. Nor is it the case I hal Kierl<egaard himself has secure ae<:c"" to
the trUth bu1 entices others into it by cunning propagandist ploys,
since there can be nn secure ace~' to a trUih appropriated in fear and
trembling. If truth i:; that which can be Jived but not known, then this
mUll! apply just as much to Kierkcgurd's own experience ofi1 as to
that of his rcsders. Truth defeats all mediation lUld so is apprehended
instanliy or not at all; but since it defeats mediation there is nothlng
that can be directly said about i~ which means thai it l< determinate
and indeterminate, ironic and self-identica~ at one and the same
time.
If the content of !ruth i< also its form - if truth exi.<ts only in the
procr..ss of its free appropriation- lhen 'the mode of apprehem.-ion of
the mull is precisely the wth','' which would seem 10 confer on truth
that lndissociability of form and cnotmt wlllch belo"W' tn the aesthetic.
Process and end-product, as with the a<">1ht1ic artefact, an: profoundly
at one; and in this sense faith does not leave the aesthetic entirely
behind, bur re-enters and repossesses irlil:e a fifth columnist for its
vwn ulterior motives. The religious resembles the ironie-()t" reflective
aesthetic in its disproponioning of inner and nuter; but it also
porallels aesthetic immediacy, recrealing the dense opadty of the
sensuous at a higher spiritual level. Both faith and aesthetic
immediacy rhus resi!U that violent dissolution of specificity 10
universality which is the ethical. The subject of faith, as a kind of
spontaneous relation of particular to absolute without Jhe mediation
of universal Jaw, migbr therefore be s:~id 10 be a sort of artefact in
itself, working as it does by inluition rather than by reason; and its
mysteriousness might then be re-ad as a vtrsion of the Kand.an
aesthetic representation, which similar!)· ru...$ the p•rriculor with a
greater 'low' wMe oulilmoking Jbe mediatory concept. If for idealist
thought the aesthetic lr.m$lllu«:s temporal existence into the form of
its eternal essence, then there is a stn.se in which Kierkegaardian
beUef might be viewed as an aesthetic mode of being; bur the
conrnsts bctweeo the two spheres are finally more striking than the

188
 A&S'OLUTE IRONIES

analogies. Fur failh is always WliOtalized and internally fissured,

ogitated by paradox and contradiction in 3 way foreign to the achieved
aesthetic product; and this slate of t'Ootinuous <:risis and :.gonited
renewal estranges it, as we have seen, from all mere social custom and
civic virtue. Rt!iginus engagement re.•i<ts aU trllnslation to the sedate
milieu of a takeo-for-gnnted cuhurnl legacy - to the insritutional
space in which, living tbeir conformity 10 !he law as instincruaJ
pleasure, men and women become the 'self-gm·cming' subj<:tts c>r
bourgeois hegemony. Kierkegaard has norhing but contempt for the
'public opinion' nr collcttivc rnom ofboorgeois sodallhtory, and rips
Hegel's unity of mornlity and happiness rudely opart. The religious
has nothing 10 do with wcU-bcing or sensuous fulfilment, and is thus
;1 critique of tbc aesthetic in 1his sense too. The true Christian,
Kierl:egaard "Tires, is one who 'a•Ds one away from dte physico!
man's pleasure, life and {!Ltdness';" faith is 'no aesthetic emotion, oot
:';Omel.lting far higher, exactly because it presupposes resignation; it is
II()( lhe immediate inclination of the heart but the paradox of
existence'."' For Kltrkegaard there can be no Shafresbury-lile palh
from the heart's •ffections to lhe absolutes oferhics, and rile religious
sense 1w little in (Ornmon with aesthetic wte. Poetry for faith is 'a
beautiful and anu:ab(e jest, Wh06e consolation religiousness nevertheles,,
spurns. because the rctigious comes to life precisely in suffering'."
There is a kind of 'poet-el<istenee' which, as F<llr and Trrmbliog
insists, is ' the sin of poelicising instead of being, of sl3nding in
rebtion 10 the Good and the True lhroogh imaginotion instead of
being thar, or nther of existentially striviug to be it'." The poetic is
idealist speculation rather than religious activism; and even the
aesthetic register of the sublime is a poor image of divine
mnscerulencc ."'
Kierkcgaard's writing goes bock beyond Hegel's collectivized
'ethical tife', v;bich seeks 10 blend dul)' and desire, to Kant's rigorous
duality ofhappines& and moral rectirude; bur it cloes so In ways which
undermine both the autonomous suhiett of Kanrian ethics, and the
unity of that S\lbject with others in lhe universal. We have seen
already how the individual believer is no mere conferet" of a rational
law upoo itsel(, swept up as it is in abject dependency upon a grace
whose logic entirely defeats it. The uncompromising inwardness of
thls then ruprurcs the lints between illdividullis, who become
indecipherable at one< to each other and 10 thcmselv«; and In doing

189
so it thr<atens to subvert any conceivable strueture of S()ci.16ty. The
aestheticized politics of the bourieois public sph""' rests on a
h:mn.oniou.< reflection of autonomous subjecis one in the other, as the
inwardness of each is mediated through •concrete ethia1 to their
coUcccivc social cxisrence and men back to me individual. It is dUs
fluent continuity of inward and outward which Kicr~~od's
fcr<><ious individWtlism •bruptly suspends; aod the resrdt is a
shanering of that imaginary register in whlch indl\iduals may lind
thcrnsel.es reflected and re:~ssured by the world around them. The
believer can nC\'cr feel ideologically centred in dUs way: 'finite
experience', Kierkegaard writes, 'is homeless'." There can be no
ubje<-ti,•e correlative of a subjectivity lived at this pitch of passionate
intcnsil)'; and the subject is accordingly thrust beyond the world,
sustaining a merely ironic relation "'ith it, a ~anent thorn in the
flesh of all purely iosriturinnallife.

The parndox nfKierl:egaard's work is that it seizes upon the mnpant

individualism of bourgeois sodcty and presses it to an unacceptable
extreme, at which the social and Ideological unity of that order begin
10 come apart at the seams. In a further paradoxk:al rum, dUs
subversion takes place before any such individualism h11.< installed
itself in Danish sa<.icl)' un a signiliC<mt ~ .. That socit1y is still in
Kierkcgaaod's rime one of monarchical absolutism, un.tltm:d in many
of its social practices sine• the middle ages. Dtnmark's enrry into the
nineteenth cc'l\tury was marked by a series of t..tadysms: the physiClll
dews12tion wrought by the Napoleonic wars, the Slate baokruptCJ' of
1813, lbe loss of Norw:~y one ·year later, the ec()fM)mic failures and
food slwnagcs of the 1820s. By the 1830s, Frederik VI's rigidly
conservative kingship held autoerotic s-<.-ay, brutally suppressing the
slightest espre..sion ofbl>eral thought. Despite some eorlier reformist
legislation, which broke the boadasc of peasant to landholder and
esrabli<hed a rudimentlry system of pubtic education, the Derunuk
of Kierkepud's day remained politically oppr~sive and culturally
benishted, a tndidonalist agrarian socicsy still several decades away
from indU9riali7.arinn. While church and censordllp stifled imeOectllal
life, a guild S)'Stem in ~le rown.<hips thwarted commercial devdoptnent.
Within this restrictive carapa.:e, however, the forces of social
progress were tentatively assembling. Newly ....are of Itself as a
corporate social power, d1e Dantsh pea.sanrry pressed for greater land

190
 AllSOUJTl. IROI<IES

reform, and through it$ repre.~enurive a.<sociation !he Bander.·cJtrmuJ

SrlsW (Society of friends of the Farmers) secured a limited
programme of agrarian improvement in die late IMO.. Fanners'
credit societies, the forerunners of Danish agricultural cooperatfrism,
assisted peasaniS to purtbase their own smallholdings; and this
graduallib....thatlon of the coonii)'Side was coupled in Copenhagen
with a .rising tide of al.legian<>! to rhe liberal trade principles ofBritish
~ols political economy. In 1857, reforming legislation dismantled
rhe Danish guild system and swept ••••Y rhe oncient monopoly of
tndc in rhe market· tuwns. 18# had witnessed the arrival of railways
in the countr)', contributing by tbc 1860. tu a •ignifi<'liiit opening up
of free internal trade. As impro\'ed popular education and cultural
revival movemeots graduaDy raised the puliti<:al consciousness of the
peasantty, middle-class libenl inteUeetuals strUggled throughout
dte 1330s and 1841k for constitutionol reform, •ppeoling to the
beoe.,.olent despotism of Christian VTII for male suffrage 1111d an
elected legislarure. By 1849 such a liberal constitution was finally
declared, guaranteeing freedom of speech, religious tolerance and
other civic Ubenies throughout the realm. There had been, howe~~er,
no middle-class industri;ll revolution; indeed Denmark poo;es.«d
little organized industry, and the nati0!13l bourgeoisie, lacking an
economic base and daunted by the leaden coNcrvalism of church and
state~ pursued its own moderate interestS in that spirit of timorous
conformity 1111d calculative prudeot.-e whkh Kierkeg'Jord was to
denounce a.< the <ign ol a pa-.ionl..s age.
A ficn:c opponent of lhe National Liberals, Kiertegaard himself
was a full-blooded iiPOiollst for the fortes of politicd reaction."'
Elitist, puritanical and bitterly misogynistic, he drfended censorship,
church and monarchy, railed intcmperatdy against the 'mob' and
adl>tred to an orderly hierarchical Sb'UCtllte which would rellcct
God's rule ""~creation. Liberal refon nism's call for eq1.1:1lity meant
a mere abotnct kvelling. undermining- concrete sociol bonds aod
annihiladng the pure differences of individual life. His Lutheran
combination of social conserYatism and extreme in<frvidu.tism, tbot is
to say, took tbc regressive ideological form ufan impassioned plea for
lhe sociaUy speci6c indhidual, loyal off~g of family, profession,
rel~on and fatherland, in the teeth of the abstractly universal subject
of bourgeois social theory. In thus turning individualism against
bourgtois society itself, Kierkegaard exposes that society's real anti-
191
social charaCier, elo.Xed os it is by its political 1t1d spiritual rh<toric.
His oocial criticism springs not from insisriog in ide:ilist style on
'community' as against egoism, but ii-om e>ploring tlut egoism at so
profoundly se•ious a depth that the abstract individual of mari:et.
sociccy is trllliSformed into an irreducible particular which resists all
social integration. Nothing could in truth be more abstract than thU
solitary Kierkegaardian self, hereft nf all .h istory and culture; yet this.
speciously 'concrete' subject becomes the ruin of all social consensus,
the wmbling block to bourgeois solidarity. Defore the proper
emergence of middle· cla._'-' power in Oenmarl<, Kierkegaard has
already in a prc-<mptive sarik.: unuuaskcJ one of its rnaior cuutru·
dictions: the fact tlut its entbmncmcnt of the uniquely nluablt
individual il1 the ideologi(al sphere .is ceaselessly, imnicolly &ub-erted
by its reduction of that individual t<> a.n arbitrarily interchangeable
cypher in the economic and political domains. In some sense, then, it
is the very r,;ac'li<>nary ch;mK:ter of his thought - its scom for the
public sphere, its Strident subjectMsm, its ponrician disdain (prefiguring
Nieu.•che ond Heidcgger) for the f..:eless 'mass man' of modem
homogenized society - whiclt turns <>ut w be most explo!;ively radical.
Something of the same may be said <>f the repressive puritmism of
rhis oscetlc Done, with his door suspicion of the senses and birter
hostility to the body. S.nsation, the life of corpore:~[ pleasure, figures
in his work as the aesthetic realm of mindle;s middle· clll!is "''Petite,
the sluggish, self-satisfied LttrosrMI of bourgeois Copenhagen.
A$ a <ftiritusl individualism, Kieri:egaardian faith set< itself at once·
apinst the life of degraded desire (bourge<>is.ci•il society) and against
aU vaCUiludy ide.U.t unlvers:aUsm (the bourgeois ethical and political
sph<:res). His strategy, in Mlort, is to split into two parts lh<
comentional oonecpt of the aesthetic, which reconciles sensoey
experience with the spiritually universal. The fanner dimension thea
app<ars in itself, sbonl of all edifying universality, as the ae<thetic; the
larter tilrm of ab>tra•'t ideali>m takc:s up it> home in lbe wvrld uf the
ethicaL In this way bourgeois society L< doubly exposed, even before it
has properly got under way, as ootn grossly particnbri<t and
vacuously unspcdnc. Kicrkcgaard's ,·c-hemenJ anti-Hege~•11ism rips
the sensuous from the spiritual and the particular from lhc univ'l:raal,
thereby challenging all aestheticizing solurions to social dUemmas.
The Baumgartcnian effOrt to render the sensuous pa·rticular tnm-
parent1o reason -!he very foundation of modern aesthetics- is thus

192
 ABSOWT£ tRONI!S

decisi\'el)' undone. To this e>:tenr Kie.rkegaard, for aU his religious

absoluti>"m, is not t ntirely remote from the materialist logic he found
so spiriruaUy oiTcnsivc. Nor is his work as irrckvant as might be
thought to the present age, trapped as it is between the 'bad~ infinity
ofdeconstrucb\'C irony and c..,rtain too dosed, over-tollllizing theories
of the political subject. The subject of faith, abandoning the sobce of
an idealist ethics, 01ware of it<ielf as radically homelt:s..li and dcccntred,
turnS its horror-stricken face to its own guilty implication in the crime
ol'hi<IOry, and in that cri<i~ or revolutioll:lty repentence or mttanol• is
freed to seize upon certain transfonnative poosibilities for ·the future.
Gripped by a one-sided commitment scandalous to tibcnl pluralism,
yet fuing also in the fear and trembting of irresolvob~ ambiguity, it is
forced to acknowledge otherness and difference, the whole reolm of
the unmastcrably panicular, at the \' e!)' instant that it seeks
strenuously to remale itself in some fnndomenml, exclusive orientalion
ofits being. .'\t once dependent and self-dctennioing, it appropriates
irs own 'nothirtgr~ess• :Jnd becomes in rfut acr. but alwa~ precariously
and provisionally, un hiswrically detem1inate being. If the subject
lives in intense seriousness it is also necessarily comic and ironic,
kMwing its own re•·olutionary option to be mere foolishness in the
world's eyes and secretly dctighting in that incoofiiWty "bile
malnuining the gr.rtcst of public miens. Ready to •bandon its identity
in the trust tJlat SOUle unfittJlomable wisdom might Oow from such
tblly, it nonetheless forgoes the 'bad' utopianism of any final
synthesis for an endlessly <Anfulished existonce. But that open-
cndcdncss is a self-resolution continuaUy renewed, rather than a
spiral of evtsive self·ironizing.
It is not the une-sid•dness of the age which is w be c-riticized,
Kicrkcgaard remarts, but rather its abstra<t one·sidedness. Poril}' of
he:m L• to will one thing; and an authentic existtnce must therefore
reject the alluring all-roundedness of the aesthetic, the beUef that the
good Ues in the rich, muldplc unfolding of human powers. It is in this
sense that commionent and the aesthetic are for Kicrkegaard
irreconcilable. For an alternative vi,..poinl - a one-sided engagement
as unwavering as Kierkcgaud's, but one in the cause of all-round
creati"" ckvelol>lllent - we must turn to the work of Karl MaO<.

193
 I Useful pecll studies of Kierkegwd include lDU!s Madey, Klrrlr.tgwrd:
A Kind o[PIHI (Philadelphia, 1!171);john W. Elrod, Bdll( •nd Exist<tu• i•
J(ltrluf41Zrd's hmJo.,..oas ff'om (Princctoo, 1975): Marl< C. Taylor,
Ki"*'f41Zrdt PJNJowymoftSAurhoniUp (Princeton, 1975), ondJounrqs to
Sdj/tood: H<gdantl Kr~rJ (ll<rb:ky and Los Angeles, 19110); Niels
ThulstJUp, /(/<tRtf.'Mm!'< Rtlmio• toff.!(od (Priru:ewn, 1980); and Stoplw.n
N. OutUling, Kin"'t;..,ni's Diakrtic ofiltJN<Jnw (Princeton, 1985}. For
an intricote critique of lhc absu>etncss of !he Kierkcgwdi>n individual,
see Thcodor Adorno, ~ I<.ttstntJaiM dts Atzhttistlrm (Fnnklitn,
1973).
2 Sercn Kicrtcpatd, /'tor 6nd trnnMing IIJid 17t< Sitt.m 3RIO Dmth.
mnsbtcd wilh an l.ntroduction by Walt<r Lowrie (New York. 1951), p.
191.
3 7~< Journtih of Sorm Ki~Yd: A Sclcaion, edited and ....,,.)aJed by
Aleundcr Dru (London, 1938), p. 385.
4 Seren Kierkegwd, 17tt C - oflnmy, tr.ln.SI:Iscd with aolntrodu<tioo
by Lee M. Capel (New York, 1965), p. 158.
s Ibid, p. 92.
6 Ibid, p. 338.
7 Sec julia Krisrcva, HiJIOim d._, (Paris, 1983), pp. 27-58.
8 Sertn Kiertrpard, 17tt C01W'p~llj'Dr1!411, tnnslated with :m )n1T(xluctirm
by Walter l •.,..,;c (l'rinceum, 1944), p. '15.
9 Ibid., p. J3.
10 Ibid., p. 34.
11 Ibid., p. 99.
12 Ibid., Jl. 55.
13 Ibid., p. 55.
H KJcrkegurd, Tlu Sirhlns """ Dt:nh, p. 158.
IS Whicb is not 10 say that .li>eral plu ralism has not rried to appropriate
KJcrtcgaard, as me pious Oourish on which Mark c. Taylor OOIJCiudes
his Jrmmcys 111 SdjJumd .,·dl uempJi6es: 'Unit}' Ulithin plurality; being
witJrin lll'a)ming; coosbncy wiihi• change; pexe rl'ithin flux; idtndl}'
,;rJrin difference: the union of union and nonunion - reconciliation in
tht roiJJr ofcstn~~gemenl. The end of d!e journey 10 sdfhood' (p. 276).
Tbough it is bard 10 tcU whit lhls String or vatuou< <logat" acrually
mc:aru, one suspectS it has more to do wi1.h a:mtcmpomry Nnrth
Amcril1lll ideology than wjtfl ninelemtb·ceotury Denrnarl:.
16 J(jericepml, 17tt Conaptl/[Jro.y, p. SO.
17 Soren Kierkcgaard, C•.m.diRJ! rJRS<i<!Uifo r ..u<rip~, introduced by
Waller Lowrie (PriDccoon, 19·41), p. 186.

19-1
 AliSO~ IRONIES

18 Kierkcprd,J.,.malt, pp. 18&-7.

19 Kiertepard, c-ludi#t Uouimrijir P.,rstripl, p. 33.
20 K.ierl<epanl, Tlrr fAtUtP• of' Offltd, pp. 16-17, and f'mr artd Trrm/Ni•e.
p. 124.
21 Kierkcpatd, Cu.dw!U:g Umcimrific PI1SJJaif11, I'· 182.
22 Ibid, PI'· 78-BOn.
23 See Waltu Benjamin, 'Theses oo ohe Philosophy of History', in H.
Artndr· (ed.), Jl/0111U:a.Ums (London, I 973).
24 Kierkepud, ]or,..b, p. 371.
25 Se,... Klerl<tpard, l!irltHIOr, ll'llnslated br Walttr Lowrie (l'rinccton,
J~i). vol. 2, p. l SO.
26 Kieri<"!""rd, Ftm ••" T,.,!li•~. p. 103.
27 Kierlu:p..-d,Ja..,..J, p. 37.l.
23 Ki<r:lc"!""•d. Condrt4i"K Unuimrific Portrrrip~ p. 290.
29 Q!roted in Taylor,JD•mqs 10 Sr/foocJ, p. 51.
30 Ki<rtegaard,Joumo/s, p. lSI.
31 Ibid, p. 132.
32 Kiertepard, C.nd..Ji"' Um<imtifit Posump~ p. 70.
33 Ibid., p. 72.
34 Ibid., p. 287.
35 Kierkeg:unl, Juu....!s, p. 363.
36 Kierkcgaard, C..d•iin« UltSlim/ifi< Pas~mpt, p. 390.
37 Kierkeg:unl, Fear•rul Tflltlhli•g, p. 208.
38 See Kitttc:pard,Jo•....ls, p. 346, where hescoms the sublime u a kind
of 'acstlledc attOUDtlncy'.
39 Quo<ed in T aylur, Jwmeys 111 Stlfl-', p. 1'>4.
40 A singularly uncon.mdns ottempt to quatify Kierl<egurd's reactionary
politics can be found in M;chael Plekon, 'Towanls Apocaln>st:
Kierkeaaard's TOO)~ in Golden Age O.:nmaB,' in Robert L. Perkins
(ed.). l•lml4limrtJ Kim.<g04rd c--tory; T""At« (Maoon, 19~.

195
 8
The 1\!Iarxist Sublime

In the narrative"" far, the aesthetic as a kind of Incipient materialism

would nor seem to have fared particularly well. Indeed tbere is a so: use
in which what we have seen so far as the aeSthetic might more
accurately he descn'bed as an anaeSthetic. Kant <>ll<l< :Ill sensuo"'<ne<.<
from the aesthetic representation, leaving behind only pure form; as
l'icrre Bourdicu and 1\lain Darbcl remuk, Kantlan aesthetic pleasure
is 'an empty plea.~ure which contains within itself the renunc~tiort of
pleasure, • p!Oll.sure purif.ed of pleasure' . 1 Scbiller dissolves the
aesthetic into some rich crc:ativc indeterminacy, at odds with a
materi•l realm it is nevenhekss in.tended to tnlnsform. Hegel is
fastidiously sekctive about the body, endorsing only thus• of its
senses which seem somehow intrinsically open to idealization; whlle
in the hands of a Scbopcnhauer the aesthetic ends up a.< an
implacable refusal of material hisroey itself. If Kierkepard turns back
to the aesthetic sphere, it is in largely negative mood: the aesthetic,
once the very consummation of belluty, is now in effect synonymous
1\ith idle fanwy 2nd degraded ~lite. A disCOUI'$C which set out
with Baumgarten to reconcile sense and <pirit ha.< been left starkly
polarized between on anti-sensuous idealism (Schopenlulu.:r) and an
unregenerate materialism (Kicrkcpard).
lf rhi• is the ease, then i.twould oeem that the oaly fruitful ~at.egy
is to go b:lclt to tho,. beginning and think everything through agnin. but
this time from the standpoint of the body itsdf. The imptidt
materialism of the aesthetic migbr still be redeemable; but if it c.m be
retrieved from the bur<kn of ide:Uism which weighs it down, it cun
only be by a revolution in dtought which takes iis starting-point from
the body itself, rather than from a reason which struggles to mae
 THE MARXIST SU11UMF.

room for it. What if an idea of reason could be generated up from me

body itself, r.athtr thon the body iraoorporated into a reason which is
always alrcady in place? Wbat if it were possible, in a breathtaking
wager, to retra£e one's steps and reconstruct eveeything - ethics,
history, politics, r.ationllity - from a bodily foundation? Thltt such a
project would be fr.aught with perils is undeniable: bow could ir
safegu:ord illielf from oaturalism, binlogism, sen:ruous empiricism,
from a mechanical materialism or false rrans<:cndentatism of rbe body
"""'Y bit as disabling- as the idenlngies it seeks to oppose/ How can
the human body, itself iu pon a product of histOJ)', be ml<en .,;
history's source? Does not lhc body in SU<:h an cntcrpri•c become
simply another privileged anteriority, as spuriously self-grounding as
the Fichtcan ego?
There might, n<:venbeless, be som< way of working laboriously
upwards from tlte opposing thumb or the or.ll drive to mystical ecsusy
and the millwy-industrial complex. And it is just this kind of project
whicb the three greatest 'ae.<theticians' of the modem period- l\12rx,
Nietzsche and Freud - will coungeously launch: Marx w·ith ihe
labouriog body, Nietzsche wilh the body as power, f'rC\Id with lhe
body of desire. How one mn ev~n spc"l of ooch d>eorizing is then an
immediate question; for what is one to say of a form of thought which
denies itself? Denies itself, that is, ..., any autonomous reality,
returning us in.stcad to the bodily interests from which it was
generated. ' The element of thought ir..elf,' writes Karl Matll, 'the
element of the vital expr~ssion of thought, la•/I'Uit<, is senSllous
nature.'' If a materialist discourse docs not necessarily betray its own
premises in the act of articulation, it is because, as Marl< suggests,
lheorl"lic:al reflection must itself be grasped as material pmctice.

'Sense ptr"'titm', writes Marx in the &:onomi& iJ1Jd Phi~hi<DI

Manusnipts (EPM ), 'must be the basi> of all science. Only when
science starts out from <ense perception in the dual form of smsuous
con.o;ciousness and smsuow need - I.e. onl)' when science stans out
from nature- it is ITIJI science. The whole of history is a preparation,
14
a de\•elopmcnt, for nran" 10 become the object of snuuftW
consciousness and for dte needs of "man a.~ man• lo become
(scDSUous) needs.''
Almost a century after 1\lennder llaumgarten's proclamation of a
new science, .Marx caUs for its rtinventiott. But the aeslheti<; that

197
humble prosthesis of reason, bas here supplanted with a vengeance
what it was >"Upposed to supplement. Sense perception, to be sure;
but as the baJis of all lmowlcdgc? And how is this more than a ,,.lgar
empiricism? Marx wiD devote much of the EP.# to thinking history
and soacry through ag2in, this time from tbe body upwards. Elaine
Sc:any bas remarked on bow Marx throughout his wrirings 'assum<'.s
that the world is the human bcin~'s body and that, having projected
that body into the nwle world, meo 3lld women are themselvu
disembodied, spiritualisl>tl'.• The system of economic prodoction, .,s
Sc:any points out, is for Mm • kind of1112terioli:zed metaphor of the
hody, as when he spcili In the Gnnuirfue o( agriculture as a
~onver>ion of the soa into the body's proloop tion. Capi1lllacts .. the
capitalist'• ourrog,atc body, providillg him ,.ith a \ic2rlou• fe>rm of
semience: and if the gllostly essence of objects is exebangc-wlue,
then it is thcir mattrial use-value, as Marx ag,ain comments in the
Grundrfut, wllkh endows them 'l'ith corporeal existence.
The ·~ory Man:ism has to tell is a clossicaUy hubristic tale of how
the humon body, throurh those extensions ofitsdf we caD society and
technology, comes to o~rreach itself and bring itself to nothing,
abstracting its uwn sensuous w.oalth to a <'}'Jlher in the act of
com-cning the world into its own bodily organ. That this tragedy
should occur is nor. of course, a mere question of technologicol
<1\'etwe<:nins but of the social wnditions within which such teclmo-
logical development tak"" place. Since th..., are conditions of
stnoggle, in which the fruits oflabour are fiercely contested, there is
need for a range of social institutions which will have, among other
functions, the task of regulating 3lld stabilizing these otherwise
destructive 00111licts. The mechanisms by whic-h this can be
accomplished - reprenion, sublimation, ideolizatiort, disavowal- ore
as familiar to psychoanolyticol as to political discourse. Yet the strife
(y./er the appropriation and control of the body's powers is n01 so
cosily queUed, and wiD inscribe it>clf within the very institutions
which seek to reprcM it. [ndeed this struggle is so urgenr and
unremitting that it baUasts th• ,.·hole of that institutional history,
w.orping it out of tnle and skewing it out of shape. This process,
whereby a contention avet the body's l""'·ers Ct>IMS to trace our
intellecrual and institutional life to its roots, is known to Marxism as
the doctrine of base and supc:rstnlcrure. LU.c the neurotic symptom, a
superstructure is that place ,.·here the repressed body succ£eds in

198
 THE MA~X.tST SURLIM&

manife$ting itself, for lhos.e who can read the !Wgns. lJndics of a
~rtain kind - 'prematurely' born, potentially communicative., needing
to labour - produce, unlike other animal bodies, a history; and
Marxism is the narrative of haw that history stips from the body's
grasp, thrustiog it into conlr.ldictiuo with itself. To describe a
particular form of body as historieal is to say that it is conrinuously
ahle to make something of that which roakes it. Language is in this
sense the very index of hwnan historicity, as a system whose
peculiarity is to enable evenrs which transgress ils own formal
structure. But one aspect uf this unfathomable capacity for sc:lf-
lnD$gt'eS$lon, on the pan of the linguistically productive animal, is
the power to extend its body into a web of abstractions which then
\1olate its own sensuous nature.
If Marx can call for a sensuously based science withoutlap<ing Into
commonplace empiricism, it is because dte senses for him are less
some isolable rqlon, whose 'laM' ntight then be rationally inspected,
as the Conn of our pt.>ctic-~ rcbtions to rc:>fity. 'The objectivity of the
po5Sible objc'C!S of experience', writes Jilrgcn Habcrmas, 'is thus I tor
MarxI grounded in the identity of • natur:ll substratum, namely that
of the bodily organjsation of man. wlrich is oriented towards action,
and not in an original unity of apperception . ..'.' Sense pctceplion
fur Man is io the first place the constitutive srruaure of human
pra<ti<:~, nthcr than a set of contemplative orpns; iD<kcd il Call
bec<Jme the latter only in so far as it is already the former. Private
property is the 'sensuous expression, of humanity's estrangement
from its own body, the dismal displacement of our sensuous plcnirude
onto a ~e dri\'1! to possess: 'td/the physical and intellectual senses
have been replaced by the simple estrangcm.ent of'" these senses -
the ,.,.., of Aavin.~. So that it might give l:>itth to its inner wealth,
human noture has beo:n redtK.-ed to this absolute pm·t-ny.''
What comes about under capitalism for the young Marx is a kind of
splining and polari1.ing of sensory lift in two :tntithetic:al directions,
each a grotesque travesty of the autht:ntically sensuous body. At one.
!eve~ capitalism reduces the badDy fullness of men and women to a
'crude and abmact simplicity of need' - abstract because, when
.beer materiJII surri\'lll is at stal:.e, the sensuous qaalilics ofthe objects
intuded by such needs are DOt in que.~don. In Freudian parlance,
one might say that capita6st society collapses the drivn, by which the
human body transCends Its own boundaries, to the inslinas - those

199
fi..,d, monotonously ...,petirive u~ which inc~rcerate the body
within its own frontier.:.:

By nducing the worker's needs to the paltriest minimum

nec-..ssary to maintain his physical existence and by
reducing his acrivlcy to the most absrract mech.tnical
movement ... the political economist. declllres lhat man
hss no other need•, either in the sphere or actr.'ily or in
that of consumption ... He turns the wmtcr into a being
with neid1er needs nor senses and tunlS the worker's
activiry into a pun: abstra<.-tion from all activity.'

But if the capitalist strips the worker of his senses, be equaUy

confiscates his own: 'The less you cat, drinl:, buy books, go to the
theatre, go dancing, gn drinking, think. loY<, theorise, sing, paint,
renee, etc., the more you S~~W and the grean:r will become the rreasure
which neither moths nor Jlta!§Ots can consume - )'nut wpit.21.,. The
sigu•l advantage or dle C>lpitalist o,·er tbe worker is dllt tbe Conner
opera1cs • kind of double-displacement. Haoing aliCNted his sensory
life to capital, he is then able vicariously to recuperate that estranged
sensuolity by lhe power of capit•l itself: 'everything which yo<• are
unable t<> d<J, your money can dC> for you: it can eat, drink, gu dancing,
go lo the the am:, ir can appropriate an, Jeam.ing1 historical curiosities)
political puwer, it can travel, it is capahlr of doing aU these things for
Capital is 2 ph.tiii2SIIIal body, a monsttous Dot>Ptlxiillvr
)'OU •• • • ••
which stalks abrood while its master sleeps, mechanically 0011suming
the pleasures he austerely forgoes. The more the capitalist forsweus
his self-delight, devoting his labours instead to the fashioning of this
zombie-like a/J~:r ~· the mon: S<:rond-hand fulftltticnts he is able to
reap. Uotb capitalist and capital are images of the lhing dead, the one
aninute yet anaesthetized, lbe other inanimate yet active.
Jf a bntlal ae.s(:etidsrn is one aspect of c::apilalisr society~ its imened
mirror-image is a fillll2stic aestheticism. Sensory <-mstcn..: is stripped
to skeletal need at ooc leoel only 10 be extravagontly inflated ot
another. The ;ontithesis of ~"' blindly biologiS!ic wage-slave is the
exotic idler, the self-pleasuring parasite for whom 'the ro:alisation of
man's amuial porM'J is simply the reali5:1tion of his 01\'D disorderly
exi<tenc.o, his whims nnt1 his capricious and bizarre notioos'." If the
worker is devastated by need, the upper-class lounger is crippled by

200
 THE MARXIST SUBLIIIIE

the la<:k of it. Desir<:, unconstrained by material circumstance,

becomts in him perversely self-productive, a maner of 're6.ned,
unnatural and imaginmy appetites' which ~kally luxuriate in their uv.u
wpersubtlety. Such a figure is for M= the social correb.rive of
philosophical idealism, as indeed, ponuloxicaDy, is d1at moo.t prosaically
material of all pl!enomena, money; Money for Marx is Idealist
through nod through, a realm of chimerical font:r.;y in which all
identity is ephemeral and all)' object may be transmuted at a strukc to
any other. Like the imaginaiJ' appetites of the social parasite, money
is a purely aesthetic pheiiOfDenun, self-breeding. self-referential,
autOMmous of all material truth and able to conjure an infinite
plurality of worlds imo concrete existence. 1b e human body under
capilalism is thus fissured down the middle, tnumali<ally divided
betw<:en brute materialism and capricious idealism, ellher too
wanting or tva whimsical, lmcked to the bone or bloated with perverse
eroticism. The dialectical point, as one would expect, is that each of
these opposites brings rhe other into existence. N:1rcissism and
necessity, f.lmished and e•orbilant appetites, arc (as Tbeodor Adorno
might have said) rhe mm halves of an integral bodily freedom, to
whitit however they do not add up.
The goal of Marxism ls to restore to the body its plundered
powers; but only .,.·itb lhe superse-<sion of private property will the
senses be able to come into their a...n. If C0011llunism is oecessary, it
is bocau.~e we are UMble to feel, wte, smcU and tvuch as fuUy as we
otiglu:

The supersessi<ln of private property is therefore the

t'tlmplttc tmOJUipa~U, of •II human senses and attributes;
but it is this emancipation because these senses and
nttributes have become lw man, subjectively as ~u a.<
objectively. T he eye has bccoJDe a human eye, just RS its
object has become a social, hum4n object, made by man for
n12n. The senses hove therefore become tllh>raitians in
their immediate praxis. Thq relate 10 the thing for its own
sake, but the thing Itself is an olljeait:e lruman rclalion to
itself and to milO, llUd vice-versa. Need or enjoyment have
therefore lost their qoisric nature, and nature has lost its
mere wilif)• in the sense that its use has become human
usc .11

201
Marx is most profoundly 'aesthetic' in his belief that the e•ercise
of hllliWl senses, powers and copscities is an absolute end in
itself, widlout need of utlllrarian jusdficadon; but rhe unfolding
of this sensuous richnes.1 for its own sake can be achif:"ed,
pat'3doldcaUy, only through the ris<Jrocsly ilmnlmemal praciice of
IM!rthrowing bourgeois social relations. Only when the bodily drives
have been released frum the despotism of abslnlct need, and the
object has been similarly restored from functional abstraction 10
sensuusly particular use-valoe, wiU it be possible-to ti•e oeslhelic:tllyc
Only by subverting the state will ""' be able lo cxpc:rimcc our bodies.
Since the subjectivity of rhe human senses is a rhoroughly objective
affair, rhe product of a complex material history, it is only through an
objective historical lftDSfonnalion that sensuous subjecm·ity might
Oounsh:
Only rhrough the objectively uufolded w..alth of human
nature can the wealth of subjective hum•n sensitivity- a
musical ear, an eye ror the beaul)· of form, in 5hon, senses
capable of human gnlification - be either cultivated or
crcatcd. For nat only the five senses, but also the so-called
spiritual senses, the practical senses (will, lm·e, etc.), in a
word, the hUitUVI sense, the humanity of the senses - all
these come into being only through tbe existence of tltdr
ohlecu, tbrqh hulftllniutl n.ature. The nJtivatVin of the
!We senses is the work uf.Ji pnviot>s history. Smscwhich is
a prisoner of crude p~Udcal need bas only a rtSiriad
sen.<e. For a man who Is surving the bU111211 form of food
does not exi...a, only its abstract form eruts; it could ju.'ll as
well be preseot in its crudest fonn, and it would be bard m
"'!how this way of uling differs from tmt of animllls ••.
the snciety tlmt is folly tkut~ produces man in all the
riclm= of bls being. the ritlt man who is p,.formtlly •~J
obomJ4ntly enJorNti D>itlr DJI tlu uruts, as ils cOOIUJII
re2UI)'' '

If ~ aeSibelil: thought suspends, for a rare moment, the

distinction betw=t subject and objocl, Marx preserves this distinction in
the act oflniiSgr'tsslnJ il. Unlike bourJeois idealism, be imisiS on the
objecti•e tru1terilll preconditions of sensory emancipation; bua the

202
 ntE .\WOOS'!' St.'BUME

scru;es an: already objective and subjcctiv.: tol!"thcr, mode• of

material practice as ,.~IJ as experiential wulth. What he calls the
'bist<ny of industry' can be submiued to • double reading: what from
the historian's vie1\I)>Oint is an aecumubtion of productive forces is,
pllenomenologically <peaking, the mal<riali>.ed text or the human
body. the 'open book of lbe ~ntial powers of man'. Sensuous
capacilics and social institutions ore the rttW and t'ffl• of one another,
dNergont pcrspecti<es Ut> d>e sarne phenomenon. And jiiSt as the
discourse of aesthetics C\'Olvcd, ,.;th BaiiDlpnen, as an anempt to
map th- ~nsible fearur'"s which an objectivist rarlonallty W1< in
danger u(suppressiug. so Marx warns that 'a pryd.•lt/gy for whiclt this
book [of the s<:rlSCS), tho most lanpblo and aoc...iblc pan of history,
is closed, c:.to never heeom.e 3 mU science with a genuine content 'u
What is needed is a form of kn<rotledge which can examine the
material preconditions of different scru;ory relarions to the world: 'the
sense perception of • fetish -worshil'P'"r is different from that or •
Greek because his sensuous existence is different.'"
Mane's Paris Manuscript< thus ....-pass at a stroke the dtullty
bet»·cCD the pnctical and the aesthetic which ties at lbe heart of
philosophical Idealism. By redefining the relficd, commodified sense
organs of that tradition liS historic:ll products and forms or oocial
pnctict, Marx relocates bodily subj«<ivity as a dimension of an
a·olving lndustri.al hlstory. But this judicious curbing of ideatiSt
subjectMty is, ironically, .U in the name of the subject: the only point
of recalling that subject's objccli~ cltaracter is so as the better to
comprehend the political preconditions within which subjective
powers may be exercised as sheer ends in themselves. In one sense,
the 'aesthetic' and the 'praaical' an: IDdlssolobly at one; in another
"""se, the Jarrer exist< for the sake of the former. As Mupret Rose
has point<d ou~ Mux inverts Schiller by pa>]ring human freedom as
a question of the realization of the senacs rather than as a liberation
from them;" but he inherits the Schillerian aesthetic idoal of an all-
round, many-sided human dcvclopmcnl, and like the idealist
aesdtelicians holds strongly that hWIWI societies are, or should be,
ends .in themset.·es. Social intercourse requires no metaphysical or
utititarian gJOunding. but is a natural ellpression of human 'species
being'. Jwt as SchJIIcr, towards the conclusion of his Lt1tm 011 tloL
AestAttk Eaua.tilnt tt{Nlma, speaks of how human society is born for
prapatic ends but evolves beyond such utility to become a ddlJIItful
203
end in irself, so Marx tinds the lineaments of sw:b 'aesthetic' bonding
at the heart of the poUtically instrumental:

When commtmist u>orltmm ~er rogcther, their immediate

aim is instruction, pmpag:mdo, etc. But at the same time
they acquire a """' need - a need for society- and what
appears as a meaDS has become an end. This pr:!C1icol
denlopment can be most strikingly observed in the
gatherings of French soclallst workers. Smoking, wing
and drinking, ea:., are oo longer means of creating linls
betweefl people. Company, assoc:iation, conversation, wbich
in ill tum has society as its J!Oal, is eaouxh for them. The
brotherhood of man is not a honow phrase, it is a reality,
and the nobility of man shines forth upon as from their
work-worn 6gures."

If production is an end in itself for eapilallsm, so Is it also, in a quite

different sense, for Marx. The aCUJalkation of huiiilln powers is a
pleASurable neL'C:ssity of human nature, needing no more functional
Jwlllieatlon than the work of an. Indeed an 6f!Uns for Marx as the
ideal pandigm of material production precisely because it is so
evidently autotclic. 'A writer', he commerus, 'does not regard his
"·orks as meam to an eod. They are an end in themselves; so little are
they ·-ans•, for himself !Uid olhers, dUll he wiD, if nc:c.,..uy,
sacrifice his OWll existence to their oistence. '" ·n.e Gr,.Jrim speaks
of medieval handicraft a.~ 'still half anisric; it has its aim in itself';"
and in the EPi'd Marx chanoclerizes 'true' human prodw:tion as the
impulse to create in freedom from immediate need. T he gratuitous-
ness of art, its lranscendence of sordid utility, contrasts with enforced
labour as human desire diffm from biological instinct. An is a fono
of creative surplus, a ntdical exceeding of necessil)~ in lacanian
tenninology, it is what remains when need is subtracted from
demand.
It is in the concept of use-value, above aU, that Man dtconsttucts
tho opposition between the pnctical and the ac:rilctic. When he
wrires of the em>ncipated senses as 'theorericiam in their immediate
pr.uis', he meaos that 1/mma, the plensurable <-ontemplation of an
object's material qualities, is an ac:tive process within our functional
relaliom with it. We experience the sensuous wealth of things by
 THE MARXIST Sl.JIII.IMt

dr:tw;ng them within our signifYing project.<- a srance which differs

on the one hand from the em de instrumentalism of exchange..,afue,
and on the other hand from some disinterested aesthetic speculation.
The 'practical' for Marx already includes thi~ 'aesthetic' responsivene.s
to particularity; irs lOrin enemies arc the commodif).ing abstraction of
both object and drive, and the aestheticist fantasies of the social
parasite, who severs the bond bel\\'ten use and plellSure. necessity
and desire, and so •Uows the laner to consume themselves In
privileged disconnection from material determinacy. In so for :as this
idealism coovcns pleasure and desire themselves to commodities,
these twin enemies are seaetly nne; what the Idle rich consume is the
narcissi•m uf thoir own actS of plea5\ltlble consumplion. For Marx
himself, it is not the ll~e of an ohject which •iolates its aesthetic being,
but that abstraction of it to an empty receptacle which foUO«-s froor
the Nay of exchange-value and the dehumanization of need.
Clussical aesdtetics and commodity felishL.m both purge the specificity
of things, stripping their sensuous content to a pure ideality of form.
It is in this sense that Marx's profoundly anti-Kantian aesthetic is also
an anti-aesthetic, the ruin of all disinterested contemplation. The
utility of objectS is the ground, not the antithesis, of our appreciation
of them, just as our de6ght in social intercourse is inseparable fmm its
necessity.
lf the early Mane is anti-Kantim in this sense, he is Kantian
enough in aoothu. 'II is ooly when objective reality universally
becomes for man the re:.lity of I!WI's essential powers', Ma rx writes
in the EP.M, 'and thus the reality of b.is """' essential powers, that all
objms become for him the oi;(aijirmion ofhimsd[. objectS that confirm
and realise his individuo6ty, iliJ objects, i.e. N himrtifbecomcs the
object.'" N1llhinr could be funher from Kant than the politics of this
a...errlon; but it is difficult to see how it differs epl<temologlcally from
the specular, imaginaty relation between subject and object delilleated in
the third Critil/l't. The Paris ~nuscripts wOII!d seem to envlsaae a
fundamental deconstruction of the antlnomy bellVCcn N•nue and
humanity, as the former is S1eadily bun..,ni:red, and the Liner
araduaUy naturalized, through emancipated labour. Thb equitable
interchange, whereby •object and object pass ceaselessly into each
other, is for M""' ;m historical hope and for Kant a regulati\'e
hypothesis; but there is no iJlsupenble distance between .Marx's
subject-conlirming object, and Kant's w;stful glimpse in the aesthetic

205
 represenlllrion of • purposiveness enheorteoing to humankind. It will
be left tu a latOT Marxist materialism to tupture this imaiPJwy
enclosure by insisting on the heterogeneity of marttr to coo.<Ciou.<ne!\5,
on the material liS some irreducible extcnnility whith infli"t>; a
necessary wound on our narcissism. The theme of lhe specular
identity of subject and object, me:1nwhile, will poss not into the later
M•n< and Engels but into GCU<g Luluics 100 ..,me t·urrcnt>; of
Western Mmdsm.
If the yoW1g .'l'lan: thus stands in ambivalent relati<lnship to Kant,
he i> similarly double-edged in his attitude to Schiller. Marx, as we
have noted, inherits Schiller's 'dlsintcresred' concern with the all-
round realization of human powers as an end in itself;20 but the
process by which this might historically come about is a.• far fmm
cla.<.<ical di&i.ntereSJedness as one could imagine. The scandalous
ori~ality of Marx is to harness this noble SchiUcrian \ision of a
symmetrical, many-sided humattil)' to highly partial, panicullll', one-
sided political forces. The nteans and the ends of communism are
interestingly at odds: a traditionally conceived Humamtilt wiD be
brought to birth by those whose humanity is mMt crippled and
deplered; :an :aesahe1ic society will be 1h.e fruit of the most resolute~·
instrumental political action; an ultimate plurality of powers flows
only from the most resolute partisanship. It is as though Man< cross-
breeds Weimor humanism with the implacable tngagmrmt of a
Kierkegurd: the disinterested emancipation of bum111 faculties will
be accomplilhed not by by-passing specific social interests, but by
going all the way through them and roming out on the othe-r side.
Only such a move can resolve the Scb!Ucrlan riddle or how an ideal
culture by definition inimical to particular interests may enter upon
material existence without fataUy compromising itself.
The discourse or aesthetics addresses • grievous alienation
between sense and spiri~ desire and reason; and fur Marx this
aliC1lation is rooted in the nature of class-society itself. With lhe
increasing instrumentaliution ofNaNR and bumanll)' Wlder capitalism,
thel.oboor process comes unckr the sway of an impooed, abstract law,
which expels from it all corporeal plei!S\ft. Enjoyment, as Man:
argues in 171t Gtm~all Itinlon, then becomes a minor philosophical
cult of tht ruling cla..s. It would appear impossible under these
conditions to harmonize 'spirit' l!ld 'sense'- to reconcile tile coercive
radonal fonns of socW Ufe with its gro!>.<ly particular contents. In such

206
a sociaJ order, a desirable •authetit ' identity of form and content
WC!Uid seem unaaainable. 'Tb:s d!cbcnomy then d e;poes iLS patb
through the huiY!lln body: while die body's producrivc p...-er5 arc
rntiunnlh:ed :and t.'mnmucJifit:ll, il'o S:)'tubnlit 1 libidiJlal driOJts are either
abstracted co crude appetite or siphontc.l off~s rcdundan1. \"iithdTRwn
from the proc:css of labour, they are channelled ins~.ad. into tbn:e
isolared enclaves of prr~s i\·ely margin;~ I .sib"Tiifio nrk.: :arl, n:ligi••n
and sc~uality. A ~ truc 1 xsth.c'tic practice - a l'('btion to ~;uure and
sncicl~· whidt would be Ill ltnt'e sensuous ;~nd ratiott&J- bifurcates into
a brma I llSCCticism o n rhc one hanci , and 11 h.aruquc ar:Siht:lit.isru nn
the other. Expunged from mattrial producril)n) humatl creativity
eith('r dissip.1tes into id e:. li~t f:tnf'3J-}' nr run!> riul in 1l1a l t.ynictl
tt<I''C~ of'itsclfbown as posscssi\,.e appetloc. C~pitalisl SOC'ic:~;y is at
una: au Ofltv of such iJDill'Chic desire 011-.i 1hc: reign of a supremely
bodiless reason.. As ..,jth sornc striking!~· ill-acb.i~\'Cd anefun~ hs
st:nsuou!O conlttlts degeoet...le to sheer raw imrncdiac~·. wh.ilc its
go\'cming fOnm; grow rigidly itbslnu.._1 -.tnd aultrltUl'IIUUS..
Aesthetics is, among othrr thin~. an ancr.1pt to rdoin dlcsc
sundertd social spben:s, dtsccrmng in dtem .1 /Q Daumg-artcn some
hl)lnoklgous lop:;c. A pcriJoushr rorma!istic reason musereincorporme
th:lt which the capiWist system expels as so much wute material. If
nzoun amJ ph:asw·~ are ul lol(gt:rbcaU:., tlu:u tl:te <ll h:~l'att toay fiiOI'f~r
models of rccoDciliation. $C'Osualizing th~ form~r and r2rionafu:ing the
laUe!' in dte manner of Sd.illc:•·'s pia) drive-. h un oiTer, Juore&~er, an
illuminating $0h11il)rl to the probk m of freedom 11nd n r.et.~s~ty- fOr
ff(edom in thcie social c()nditions has la~ed into anar.:hy, and
necessir! into iron dt:let'rllioistn. We shu.ll see blet in the case of
Nietzsche how artistit crc:uion promi9e-s to deconstruct this oppotition -
bow marvellously uodccidabl~t j{ is whelher dle attist io the :ltt of
prt)Liuctiu n is :.IIJ)rt:md y ffee, ur g•l\oerm:tl hy SHIUe: int:luuah!e lu~ic
.' \esthetics scds to rcsol\'e in an i~n;1gi nary way dle problem of why,
uuder certain lli.stCKied cc•uLiitious, hum:m hudily :tCti,•ity generalts a
$(':1 ur 'rllri()nlll' frnms by whir:h the body iJt>Cif is then oonfisolttd.

Marx bhnself will rejoin the sensuous o~nd tht rati()tlal in the concept
of usc*value; but there <-a n be no Jilx:ration of use-T:Uue as long lS the
u urunud ily rl!igns supremt-:, which i~ why ' rhe resohnM:m of me
th(llt'f!Val anrithescs thcmsch,.es is possible o11)y in a pr.urkal w~..~!l If
th.c: aesthetic ia to re•lizc: it$CH il must pass over into the polnic.aJ.
whiclJ is whaJ it sc:cn:lly :tlw:l)'!> W.:tS. If lhe rifl hL'1\\ if'.en r:rw 3Pflt!ti1P
and cli5"mbodied re>SM is to be healed, it can only be through a
revulutiunruy anlhropology which tntcks the roots of human ntionality to
their hidden source in the needs and capacities of the productive
body. For in the rcoli7.3tion of sucb needs and capacities, that body
ceases to be identical with itself and opens out onto a sbared social
world, \\ithin which its OWD needs and desires will have to be weighed
alongside those of others. lr is in this way that we are led by a direct
route from tbc creative body to such appucndy abstract matters as
reason, justice and morality- issu~ which, in bourgeois society. have
sue<,ctdc-..1 in muting the inconvtnimt clamoor of the body and its
concrete interests.
Mony of Marx's most vital economic c:uegories are implicidy
aesthetic; indeed Mikhail Lifshitz reminds us that.lvlarx embarked on
a deuiled study of the Genrun aesthedcian Friedrich Viscber on the
very threshold of his major economic work." If there is one privileged
place in his writing where the problem of abstract and concrete is
focused "ith peculiar sharpness, it is surely in that celebrated
metnphysU:ol conundrum, the commodity. The commodity, one might
claim, is a l:ind of grisly caricature of the authentic anefact, at once
re!6ed to a grossly particular object and virulently and-material in
fonn, densely corporeal and elusi..,ly spectr~l at the same tirne. As
W. J. T . Mitchell has suggested, 'the terms that ~ux uses to
characteri,;;e the commodity are dra.wn rrom the Jeiicon of Romantic
:oesthetit'S and hermeneutics.'" The commodity for Man: is the site of
some curious disturbance of the relations between spirit and sense,
form :md conttnt, univers:al and p311icular: it i• at once an object and
not an obje<:t, 'percepnole and imperceptible by the senses' as he
comments in CapiJtJ!, a false concretizing but also a f:alse abstracting
of sociol relarion.s. In a mystif)ing ' now you see it, now you don't'
logic, the conunodity is present and absent simultaneously, a tangible
entity whose meaning is whoUy imm.ueri:al and alway~< elsewhere, in
it< fonnal relations of exchangt with other ol:>jecrs. lts value is
ecceutcK: to itsdr, its soul or esscuce displaced to anuthcr. <.:ununoclity
whose essence is 'similarly elsewhere; In an endles• deferral of
identity. In a profound act of narci<si<m, the commodity 'looks on
every othLT t'Oirtlllodity as but the form of appcararu:c of its own
value','' and is promiscuously eager to exchange both body and soul
with them. It is blankly disconnected front its own body, since 'the
existence of tbings qu• commodities, and the v:alue-relation between
208
 TiiE WJOOST SUBUME

the products of labour which stomps tho:m as commodities, bave

absolutely no connection with their physical properties and with the
material relations arising therefrom.''-' The commodity is a schizoid,
self-contrndlctory phenomenon, a mere symbol of itself~ an entity
whose meoning and being are entirely at odds and whose <ensuotJs
body cxlsiS only as the contingent bearer of an extrinsic fonn. Money,
th.e un.iversal commodity, a.• Marx writes in lhe Gnmdriue, ' Implies
the s.-pantion between the >-..lue of things aod their subslaoce'."
As the antithesis of the aes1hetic object, a kind or andact gone
amy, the ('OIJliiWdity's material being is a mere random instantiation
of the abstract law of exch2nge. Yct if this is a casc of Hegel's 'bad'
universality, the conm1odity "-' fetish also exemplliics a 'bad'
iauncdia<:y, ncptinJ the 8"J1Cral social n:lotions within which it was
produced. As pure exchange-value, the commodity craso:s from itself
every panicle of matter; as alluring allratic object, it parades its own
unique sensual being in a kind of spurious show of materiality. But
this matcrilllity is itself a foma of abstraction, serving as it docs to
ocdude the c011crete social relations of its ""'n productiun. On the
one hand, the commodity spirits away lhe subswu:e of those
relations; on the other h2nd it invests its own abstractions with
specious material density. In its esotericism, as well as in its rabid
hnstility rn matter, the comm<>dlty is a parody of metaphysical
idtalism; bu t it is olso, as fetish, the •ery type of degraded materialil)·.
It thus forms a compact space in which lhe pervasive contradictions of
bourgeois sociel)' bizarrely coovergc.
Just as much of Marx's economic thought turns on lhe acslhetic
ca!J!gories of (o(!Jl and cnnren~ .., alS<l does a central pan of bJs
pulilical writing. When M..,. accuses Hegel of'politicol fonnalism' in
his Critiq~ •f Htt;rl~ Doarmt II/ rht S14re, be surgcsts that HCJcl's
poliri.cal thought is faithful tn the real conditions ofbourgcclis sociel]i,
in whicb the purdy abstrat'l equality of individuals within the polilical
state sublimes and suppresses their oonCI'Ctc dlfTercnccs and in·
equalities in civil society. In such conditio111, Man: argues in the
EP!If, 'real human beings, real society' appear simply as 'fonnless,
inorganic: maw:r•.v Onoc again, n:ilic;d furmalism and raw mattrilli>m
emerge a.~ inverted miM'Or-images or each other. BourgeniA society
drives a mill! wedge b.tm:en lhe >-ubject of civil society in bis or ber
'seosuous, individual and imm<diau existence', and the 'abstnct,
artilicw man, """' as an o/kgtlri,.}, mt>rol person' of the palitic.tl
209
 state'' It is in this &ense th•t 'the perfection of the ide.ilism of lhe
state (isJ at the """'" time lhe perfection of the materialism of civil
society.'"' Political emandpalion v.ill be possible only wben this
di<location between abslract and concrete,' form and oontcnt, has
been surmounted - when 'real, individual man resumes the abstract
ddzen Into himself and a~ an individual man has become a '[ltcUt-
ll<in: in his empirical life, his individual work and ru, individual
relationships .. .'.... Only iD democracy, Mm argues in the Crilifueof
Htgtl~ Doatiltt nfth< SIIJU, is ' lhe forrtuU principle ... identical "·ith
the ruislantivc principle'," conCTctc particuhrity at one with one's
public polilical role. DeliUICDtic society is the ideal anefact, slru:e its
form is the form of its content: 'in a democracy, the ronstitution, the
law, i.e. the political sutc, is Itself only a self-dcrermln.allon of the
people and a determinate mntent of the people.'" Non-democrnric
societies are inept works o( art, in which form remains tnrinsic to
substanCe: lhe law iD such political conditions fills to lnfonn lhe
material of wcial 5fe frofll 11iitbio, and so 'is dom.inant, but without
really dominatinf, i.e . .,ithuut materially penetrating the content of all
lhe non-political spben:s'." In the democratic state, by contrast, Ibis
abstraCt juri diu! SIIUCIIJU will be absmbed into ci\il <Ociety itself, to
become its living Org>tnic form. rndividuals will form the subs!llnce of
the stlllt: ill lhcir unique pani<ularity, rather than as facch:ss public
C)'pbel'$. Mux's contn..r between non-demoentic and democratic
societies thus reproduces lhe Kantian distinction between '' pure or
practical reason which i> heteronomous to the specific, and lhat
tny31erioos aesthetic 'law' which is at one with tile material content it
organizes. The emancipated sociel)', for Marx as much as for the
Rousseau from whom be bas learnt here, is an aesthetic interfusion of
form and content.

An interfusion of form and content, ill fact, may be uten as Man's

aesthetic ideal. He spoke of slriving to achieve such a unity in hl< own
o;aupulously crafted literary style, and detested what be saw as
Romantici&m's disproponionins of lhe nvo, embellishing prosaic
coolents with exotic ornamentatloo. It Is this tllsaep:mcy, as we &hall
see, which becomes the basis of his critique of the bourseois
revollllions in Tilt Eit/Jimlllt Bnll'lllzitt •flAuis &IIIJtllnt. In an article
of 1842 on the German propeny laws, Mmt declares that 'fonn is of
no •alue unless it is the form of its con~nl' ."

210
 The key to Ibis line balance of form and content is for Marx !he
concept of M4U, mean~ mea.qure, standard, proponlon, IIIOdenlion,
or e\'tm at limes the compact inner structure of an artefact~ To
preserve due proportion, 'to apply tu c:adt obj«:t its inherent
~hlndo.rd'," would seem Marx's aim, one whlcb ofTen a convenient
standpoint from which to critici2e capit•lism. As e:arly as his doctornl
diuerudon on ancient Greece, Marx was contr.Uting wl!at be called
~\t 'dialectics of meaSClre' with the reign of 'measurelessnes.~'; 31\d it
is l)pical ofhls thought in gcnenlro discern in ancient society a kind
of li}'1llllleh)' and proponlon consequent upon its very bocltw:ardness.
It is this t>c,lief which motivates his notorious remarks in the
Introduction to the Cnn:Jnnt about the unn:capturabk perfection of
Greek art, rooted as ir i.~ in material immaturity.J6 CapitaliJm too is a
matter of curbing ond constraint, as the straitjacket of Ol!Changc-
value impedes the free production of use-value; but unlike andent
society these limit• lend it no internal S)'lllJDet:ry. On the contrary,
.-pitalism is immoderate, intemperate, one-sided, disproportionate,
and thus offends Marx's aesthetic as .,.ell as his monl sense. Indeed
the two faculties are deeply interrelated. 'The capillllist mode of
produttioo ccminly deploys a measure: that of labour lime. But one
of the system's ironies is that, as it advances into the mathlnery stage,
it begins progressively to undercut its own yardstick. 'Capital itself is
the moving conmulietion', Marx writes in the Cnn:Jnne, 'in that it
presses to reduce Labour time to 3 minimum, while it posits labolll'
tim.t, on the odter side, as the sole mt"asure and suun:-e of wealth,' 17
Once the. DI3SS of worktrs ban: appropriated thtiJ' own surplus
labour, a new measure will be instalkd: th3t ofthe 'need• of the social
individual', which '1\ill now come to detennine the amollllt of time
spent in labouring.
Ir this is • measure, it is • remarkably Aen'hle one. si.nce such needs
ate of course for Marx sodaUy and historically variable. Ju the
Critiqru Df the (~ha P"'17"'"nu he is St\'ete with· tbe notion of
applying an equal. stondard to inevitably unequal individuals, and
rebukes Ibis 'soaalist' dcvi~~ as a hansovcr from bouiJCoislegaliry. If
human needs ore historically mutable ond open-ended, then so must
be Mane's measure; therr i:s a c~rtain measurelessness about thls
measure which distinguishes it from any fixed uni\'eml standard,
even if ."dane has little time on the other h•nd for the fan!Jl.'i)' of
infinitely unlimited needs. True wealth, he claims in tbe Cnmdrisse, is

211
'lhe absolute working-out of[hurrum] creative potcntiallties, with no
presupposition other than lbe previous historical development, which
mokes tbis totaUty of development, i.e. the development of all human
powers os such the end in itself, not as me<OSt1rtd on a pmktcmoincJ
yardstick'." It would seem, then, that the working out of ~c
human capacities i111 somehow in own mea..~w-e, transgressing any
fixed or given form. If humanity is to be oonsidued, as 1'vlarx ~oc.s un
to insist, in itS 'absolwe movement ofbecomin(,lben it Is hard to see
how lhis ceasdess mut:lbility, in which the only norm would se.:m
changt itSelf, docs not throw into question the more static, dassical
parodlgm of an equilibrium of form and comeru. There can ceruinly
be no question of a 'pmletnmined yardstick', of fo rms and standards
emnsie to the 'content' of history iiSelf. Such content must find its
own form, aa as iu own measure; and it is difficult to see whether this
signifies the triumph of an 'organic' conception of form. or the-
dissolution of form alwgether. What will in/11Tf11 this constantly
shifting process or freely m~lved powers?
One might claim, then, that tbere are two kinds of 'aestbetic' at·
work in l\'larx's teXIS, whkh are not wholly compatible with one
another. If one can be called the beauliful, the olber might be
properly named the sublime. There is, to he sure, a 'bad' sublime for
Marx, aloog the liru:s of H.:gel's 'bad' infinity: it resides in the
f'estleu. ovenveening mm·emenr of capitalism iw:Ir, its relentle.~~
dissolutiun of form$ and commingling of identities, its confowuling of
all spedfic qualities into one indeterminate, purely quantitative
process. 1be movement of the commodity is in this sense a form of
'bad' sublimity, an unstoppable metonfmiC c hnin in which one object
refers itself to another and that to another, to infinity. Like Kant's
mat.hematical sublime, lhis endless accumulation of pure quantity
subverts all stable representation, and money is its majQr signiJier.
'The qrumtilJI of money', Marx writes in the EPM, 'becomes more and
more iu sole imp•rt41ll property. Just u lt reduces evOI)1hing to its
ovm form of abstractiort, so it reduces its<lf in the course of its own
m0>.1lment to something gwmtilllrivt. MtJ~JUrtlemress and inmrMmrllhililJI
become its true standard.'... Once apin - but now in a negative sense
- Marx's measure is itself immeasurable. Mooey for Marx is a kind of
monstrOUS subUmlty, an infulitcly spawt)ing signifier w'bkh has
severed aD relation with the re:~l, a fanta<tical idealism which blots oot
specilic value as sun.iy as those more conventional figures of
212
sublimity - the raging ocean, the mountain crars - engulf d l
p:utiUJI3r idtmilies in their unhow1dtd e:\)>iiOse. The subli1ne1 for
.\1ao: 3S for K<lnt, is f>a.t Ut!limn: Tht~ fin mlr:s." nr mnno;mm:o;.
l nts 'ba<l' sublime, h&wever, can be counterpointed b)' a 'good'
llne, whit:h cnu:rgt$ miN t:\·it.lt!nt1!f iu Lht E:~hftO) Ih BnmrNirt-..:- Tht:
opocnint pages of t_h 3t ten, surrly .\1111'\·'s ma jor ~.'ttliHit w.·ort.:, depict
the great bourgeois re""'Jurions .u Jjving jun lh.n hiat\ls be~n fonn
and (',nntE'n t~ ;,;1gnitier nn1l s.ib'Tolfi*!•l, which Ihr. c:b:s.sit:::tl :u:!>tht:lid:m in
~1arx finds most insuppcwtable. In a kind of historical t ross-dr(ssiog,
each bourgeois rc,·olution tricl.s itself out in the Jluhy insignia of
pr!!vinus r.put:h:-o, in nnlt:r 111 L'Uilt:t:a.l ht:u\'Uth th es~ inllu.tct.l fc1 nn~ the
shameful paucity of its true socill content. In th~ ''ti'Y act of
ial>hKming :t iuturl!, .sudt iuliurm::liuns. find tiu~m~>tl~ cs t.:tJUijJUhivdy
repeating the JX!St:: hiSJ:(n'}' is the nightmart from whkh •hey ~,.;1c 10
awaken, but which in doing so lht.')' men:ly dre.am a.watn.
Each
rew.lhnion io: :s fan·k:sl IT:S"'t'!SfY nf the l:m , o1ppmpriann£ ils E'.Xtt'!m:J!
symbology in an interteXJual chain. 11 Bo~ugeois r<'VOiudons are
inbcrently rh eiltri,~L a ruaner of !)Qllache :1nd breathless rhetori, , :&
IJaruqut: fre nzy wlursc (1\ltlit: t:ffl!ll i (JU~ art! in i ul't: l'!lot' (ln'J(IIllrtimt lh
their meagre substance. T he!'(: ts ~ kind of ficriw: n.css in tbdr very
liiJlJ~tun:~ a h idtleu O:.w wltich disarticu1Jtts forUJ and \X!Jiltnt.
' llt 1.~5c IT.''ohuiomry rcperirions, howr:n-:r, an.~ nr)t mrr-t'~' rarodil;.
c.trieatures of whal was no doubt already a caric.lhJre. On tbt
c:untr:try~ thP. pntnl n( ~...-uking rh~ p:t.sf ts rn 1'-Umrntm llu: rlc:ul tu rht:
aid of the presen1, drawing from them something cf their dang(rom
power.

Thus "'' ""''k' nin~ of me doad ;n mm n;volutions

ser\'ed Lhe purpt.l'OC uf gl ori iyiu ~;e l11e J)tw nru.ggles, out c1f
pan"l)·ing- lht: uld; uf magnifyint( 1hr: t(i\'<:n ra'i ~ in
imagin,tion, net of fleeing irom ils s&lution in re.1Jity; of
fi nding um.'t: mure lht ~rririt uf revnluriun, nut nf mukmg ifs
ghoir walk ~bot.n agaio.•a

Ont.r br dteatning the paS-L coul rt:,'Olutiouart.z oawak ~n [root iu

nigfum:.re, sinc:-e rhe p11Sl is ~o~.•Juu the)' are made or. Only by ru.r~inJ.'
()ac1c, with the horror·nrlclun face of Walter Oc:njamin's aN~f~~~
lfWtt.t, c.;m the revQiution be bl~·n b)· the winds- of hisiOJ)' iuh' t1tt:
rt:c3lm uf 1hc huure.11w pca,:a, t(u the bourgw•nis revnlurioMriP.S ns for
 Rc:njomin, mtt..a he pressc:tl lfm:ihly inru I he: r.·l:'rvit;e n f rht: prt:.u~r,
classical m1ditions he-redt nlly oppropriactd tmd miswrinen in ordt-! t6
redeem the dmc. The I"C''olution:ll')' i5 the offspring not onlr of
UllJ)f~:-tSi•e politica! pllt'eul:o, but of <JIK.'estnal bruthen>llltd si:sltr:> whu
usurped the patriarch in their O'ND time and have b;;qucathcd
scu:tlellliog of th:;al periJ•·•us power to later gc:m::ratic)uS. i ht:re is :1.
sibtinr: solidaril) which n us ath•-art 1hc cmpl)\ homogcnc:ous
ccmrinuum of ruling·class. history, and which Oenjamin terms
'trJdHitm"'. Recycling tht pa~t. then. is botb opiate and iru;piration - ~
~yn.ica l thie..ing of Its 'aura' which uonethekss, 1.s lk-njamin might
h<l~·e p11t i1, .)uspends the smooth 1low of historical time in a sbockitlg
't:rmsh:lllllinn', ullo\lolll){ :t sut.klt:n c::otllcric ..:urrc:spundc:tK.:e lo flastl
bel\\.'-.?en the pofiric~l need s of the prcsenr :~:nd a redeemed moment oi
Lin: p:ast. 0
Thr £;g)wtru!t Bm...,;,,. y.oc• on 10 contrnst the scmiolo(!Y of
bourgeois insWTccrion ·ni th the S<l<ialist rcvolutiO'n of the future:

The S(;('ial revolution of tbc ninetee-nth cc·ntury cannot

dn•w its liUel l) fron t d..te J)aSt, buL oaly from the future. II
l'an nnt begin with irsdf bcfrwt if has !>tripped nff aU
.super$tition in regard to the past. Earlier revolutions
~quit:ed rr.t:ollec:non~ or p:."t wnrld his.lury in order tu
drug themseh·ei concerning !heir OW1.'I cootcnt. In order ro
arnve .-1 its W'J\ C01\tent, the RVOiution of tt.e nineteenth
C.'L'TIIU ')' mu st lt:l the: .Jcad bury lhc:ir dead. 'T'here the
phnse wcru beyond the <:onrcnt; here the ccmteot goes
hr.yu:uJ lhe phr.tse."•

What is in qutstion hc:rc: is the whole concept of a represen1ationa1

aesd'letic:'s.. Previous re\o"((lutioM have bel!n fc)fltl:tli"'nt:. r:ngr:.fting a
factitious &"p hrase. o r torm ()nt() their ('()nttnt; but me conscqoC"ncr. of
rhts is a dwarfing o( th e signifiC'd by the ~igni6e:r. The content of
socialiM revolution, ~· contrast, 15 exce~ive of all form, out in
acf\•anct• of Irs own rhe.toric. h is u nr('flrt$cnmbk: b~· 3tl)1hi n~; hu1
il5Clf. $ipi6cd only in its =abS(IIUlt mo-...;ment..oftu:<'oming", ;nvl thus
a tind o f su\:llimity. The re presentational de\·ices of bourgeois socitt)'
~ re t.h0$e ;If' erch:mg~-v:. l ue; bur u 1s pra:i.sd)' thi8 sit Jtifying (j·;une
that the prodl•cti,·c J0tc<'S m\1(01 hl'(ak hcyrm•l. rclc:a.;ing- a hl:tcn~ueit)
of usc:~v.1haes ~·hose W\ique par1icularlry w()uJ.d stem to refuse all
st:md:m li.zwl t~pr~sr.nt:.tiun . It is ks.o.: :.. m:tllt:r 11f diM:u\'t:ring the:
exprrui,·e fonn~ 'zdt(!l.atf ro~ tbc substan('e of JOci<dism, than of
rtdtil)k.ii\8 lla.l whole oppo,ilion- of gi'4Spiug form no tonger as the
symbolic: m(mld into which 1ha1 suh~:mt:t: is (}(tUrnl t but a..; the "fi•nn
of the comcntl, as tbc Sb'U(turc of a ceasclcts sclf-proclucrion.
Tu cuu c~i ve uf form in tb.i~ war i!i 1101 wbolly iucomp;nible with
Man-•$ clal:isieal aCl;l:ht:ric:; ind,·o l it c;an be !'(:en fn.lfTl one .,;e"4'Jlninc
as just M~ch a unity of form and content. T he content of <'ommunist
-:ucW.ty1 likr. lhe Roman ik :utei:u:t, must t;cru:r:ue i 1~ IIW11 fe'ln n inltn
withint lind its owo leve-l •nd measurt'~ But what kind of form will this
be, if communism is the all-round liberation o( a multiplidry ()(
particult r use-value~ when: Lht Oldy oili:dl!re ~ouJd stt tu de\·eJ()pment
itsclf.l Socialism i:; able tO ptescribc lhc inStitudonal 10rms which
wtJut..l be necesuJ'y if this wealth of use. values_, this seJ(;.deJigbtill@
plurafity o{human (Mi'Yo'(T'i, 'llo't:r>: 10 he unlf~:lwd fi-llm ehe met~h)'sit:al
prisan·hou!e ()( ex-change•\'.tlue; yet such unlocking relca!n the non·
id ~n1it~ l (rum 1hr. idr.ntic::tll :tnd lht: qtu:stiun is unc ufhuw this rum-
idenrity is to reprtsem itself. 'R<'<"onciliation': \l:rites Theodor
Adorno, 'would rcle:.ise the non·idenrkaJ. would rid it of C(l(rcion,
i.t!cluding spiritw.Jised cc~aciOJ); it wc,ufd opet) the road to tbt
muhiplidty of di!fcrer.t lhin!{S and strip dialecti~ of its pw·er over
thew.··~ Certainly the content of suclt a !oti«y caMot be 'read off'
fi'um the in.;rilutiuns ~• in pl~~.:c tu pnxlul1: it. ' \h htM: lfl t:nloun: tltt:
means of life, and the mc:ms of community', wriu:s Raymond
Wi11i:.uns in r.ultllt~ o.~r.d .~ittl' 1lB0- 1950. ' Bul wh:al .....iU lhtt~ b~
lhe.se rneansl be lived> we C'.lnnot b'low or s11y.- Mnnis.m is nOt a
theoty oftbc funue, but a theory and praCcicC" of how to make a futurt
possible. As a doctJ'inel 1t belou~;S· tutirely to what Marx ca!ls 'pfe-
hlstory'; irs role is simply to r('sol\·e thOS(" cootrtdicdons whic-h
cWTent1)' prevent U$ &orn moving beyond that cpocb to history
prOjlt'r. 1\i.M)ul tJ..a1 history proper, M01rxism Jws lillie 10 SOl)', amJ Ma u.
him:stb- gtncrall)' maintain«! a S)-mp ~oma tic sile nce on this scort.
The only truly hist~..,·:.· e.vef\.1 would be LO get hislot)· swtt\1. by
dr.:ning :J\1.'3 }' lht! uh.;t:tdt!S in liS poth. S 1) fttrl nnthing p:mit~ul:trl }'
;:pc:cial h~s
occurred: hisrory to (bte h.:.s sin'IJ'IIY been the $l11'1('. old
ito~'• 1 set of vari2ti.:.os on persistinr structures of oppression an<l
txploitatiuu. Tltt: ~ur.Ih::9> n::qding and mcin:ubti111; u( Cit: vunmuxlity b
lht: must recent pha"c uf lt.aT hi:srurical dc:adlock, tfw ('ICJTICTU:sl
J>TCScnt by which c:Us s -s~cicty implicitly denies that it wat ever born.
since oo confess that one wns born is to acknowledge that one can c.lic.
But this circuit cannot be broken by representing- a future, since the
mems of representation belong rn a superseded present, and ore
po'\\·erle:c;s to take the tl'lellsure of £hut whiCh will ha·•e transgressed
theDL It is in ihis sense, precisely, that the 'content goes beyond the
phra.~ '.
Just as the pious Jews, so Walter Be.njamin reminds us,41 were
forbidden on pain of idolatry to fashioo gn•en inuges of the God of
the future, <n political l'lldic:ols are prohibited under pain of fetishism
from blueprinting their ultimate dc'Sirc. This is ·not to denigrate the
power of utopian thought, but w recall its fictive or regulalive starus,
the lim.its of its representational resouroe.s. Marx began his political
cmeer in cont•nrioo -..ith what one might <'211 the subjunctivo mood of
socialism, with the 'wouldn't it be nice if' kind of radkal idealist; and
his brusque imperative to 'let the dead bul)' their dead' is a reminder
that all utopia sprinJs from the past rather than the future. The 1n1c
soodw.yen: or clainnyants are the technkal expert.< hired by
monopoly capitalisn> <O peer into the entrails of the system ond assure
irs rulers that their profits are safe for lllOihcr twenty years. /Is Walter
Deojamin knew, it i• not dreams of liberated grmdchlldren which
spur nten and women to re ..·oh, but mernories of cnslR.owec.l ancestor.;,
Like any cmiUKipatory tboory, Marxism is concerned with putting
irsclf progressively out of blaincss. lr exists to bring ahoot the
material conditions which will spell its own dentise. and like Moses
will not pMS with its people into the promised land. All cmandpatory
theories carry some self-destruct device within them, eagerly
anticipating the moment when they can wilber away. If there are still
political radicah in a <'Cntury's tim~, it \\ill be a grim prosptct. There
is no way, then, in which the diverse. uses to which men 3lld women
\\ill tum their emandpated powers in a socialm future can now be
imaged; such a process defies representation, and is in that sense
sublime. The mon: recalcitrant probkm, as we have seen, is to know
how that process could be represented even when it is under way,
given that it is of lhc essence of sensuous P"nicularity to pye the slip
to general representational forms.
There ts another sen')e in \\ilk:h Marx's cla.~ical conc:em to
reconcile form and content is significantly qualified in his work. To
di.ltinguish berween the nuner (productive forces) and form (social
relation.•) nf a particular society, :tS G.A. Cohen has orgued,
216
<disnedin capital's pretension to bdog an irrcplao::ahh: nn:arr> uf
..:-reatillg mare:rial wc:afth .. . Confu5ion of conltnl and form crtates:
the rc~c tiona.ry illu:'>itm Ihal phy:.it'alptmlu~.:tiun ut1d matet&.al gcowth
c.1n be adtie\•ed on~ by capitatist invcstmcnl.'" It is lhc boul'!eois
pnluk:aJ t:(.'< tntnuislh who art: in 1his stnst the 'classicists', wedded 10 il
oootl arion C)( capit:llli.st form and pmdut:ri\'r. material. Cumrnunism,
Cohen comments. may bt described 2s the 'conqueit of form b)·
m:tneT. F'or in neg::~ting r.ltt:h:mge-v:duc t.:Uinrnunis!n rd ~a!l~ l1 1 ~
coatent fe dshiscd economy imprisoocd in fo rm.""' rs this then II>
claim ch;at communism is formks:s? Cohen'$ rcspo:tse 10 this query is
Lu ilrl{llc tlnll human ....::1i ~·i1y wh:ltr roanmunism lS not uBSI:nlcturcd,
but lhat it is al:so nOt prc-strucrured. No soC'ialiOrm is imp~;uJ upon it>
hut it diJtS have ;a f01m. '011e might S<i)': site form is " QW j ust tltt
b!lureMry (fmu;d l!rJ IIW/trr it(d/."~11 Ht~rc: , nncc sgaif1, Man: r:q ui-.'CH..JIIt!S
between the cbs!icaJ aOO the sllblim~. Tbc fonn of commW'Iiam is
~nrire l)' at nne with i ~ c..•unJenl , :tnd In this t:XIt:nl t)lle c:Ul "l'e:ak uf a
d auical syrrtm(ll'y or idcntit)· b(N'OCn lhe I\'' 0. Ccnainly .:C.immuni<;m,
unlike the COrl''entional sublime~ is not shapeLess and amorphous. Dut
l11iS itltutity or fOJ'U'I i&Od COflti!'JU iS SO absolute that ibt rormer
c·tlCtdv~l)' disapptars into the lant r; Md sinct- rhe IAtttt is no more
man a <ootinually self-apaooiug rnultiplicit)· bounded oni)· by itsdf,
the: c:llet:l i.s tht:n om: uf • ct:rlain :mblimity.
There i$ another 1f1faJ of putting dJis poillt. Cohen writes oi the
SltU C(UJ t ilispfa)·ed b) C(JIIUU UIIiStn :il> ' :IU lllUrt: lh:l lt Ihe UULJi nt! ur lhe
a criviti~ (If its mcrnbc;rs. nOt somC'Ihing into which they muSt fu
themscfv<s';.s• and lhis is ttrong)y rcminiucn1 of the Kanban 'bw~ of
beoluty. Tholt 'law', as v.-e llO:lve seen, is w>'l10Uy iu)Jllo&neftt 10 its c:o:attftl:
it is d'le Vf:1Y tO..m of dun content's i.ntcmal organization, rather than
some CAtcmal. abstracubJe regubtion. Wlu.t Mux ha.s eo·ecli\ltl)l
doJ)t:, then, is 10 J)rt)jet.1 ll1i~ UmoiiiJtaou:: intu Kant's al1c rnali'o'c
i~ CStb.et:k state) tM sublime. If Kant's hc2.uty i$ too staric, roo
harmonioll5ly organic fo r ~1arx's political pw·poses, his sulJiimt iii Luu
furmlt:ss. Tl~ ctmdiliuu o f c::um munism c:xmld ht: cmisagt•d nnly by
:;om•.~ bk.-nding of the tw(l -lry :t process whi.cb has aJI oi the sublimt'J
potentially infinixe e1epanaiveoes~. but which neverthcles$ carries its
fOt'til.;d law within ib.t:lf.

Mane's acoount of modem history may be fait!) straighlforwardly put.

The capitalist mode of pl'oductiun i:s ~t't.l by the n:~m~-cg

Zl?
 motives ()f profit and <elf-intero.<t; hut the overall product of such
discreditable intentions is the greotest accwnuhotioo of productive
forc'eS that hi>tory has e-ver witnessed. The bourgeoisie have now
brought those forces to the point where the socialist dreom of a oocial
order free of toil cnn in principle be realized. For only oo the basis of
such a high k>'CI of material development is socialism possible.
Without such stored productive eapaciry, the only 'soci:ilism' would
be ,.·bat Marx sc~thingly described ns 'generalized scarcity'. It is
uguablc that men and wom<n could seize control of the productive
forces in • sure of underdenlopmcnt and "'Jland them in a socialist
direction. The case against this is ·that modcratc:ly h<:donistic humut
beings would not mcly submit thtmAelves '"such • hack-bre3king,
dispiriting task, and that if they did not dten it wu.tld be left to n
de<potic bureaucrnric state to do it for dtem. \\1~atever the merits of
these opposing arguments, theJC can be no doubt that Marx himself
erwisaged socialism os riding on dte boc.ks of the bourgeoisie.
T his massive unkasltinf of productive powers is for Marx,
insepanbly, the Wlfolding of human richness. The capitalist division
orlaboor brings w.ith it a high refinement or individual capGlcities, just
as the capitatist economy, in uprooting- all parodlial obsucles to
global intercourse, lays down the oonditions for intermtiOIW
community. In • <imilar way, bourgeois political and cultural
traditions nurture, howf)'ller p:utially and absttac:11y, the ideals of
freedom, equality and lllliveml juslice. Capil.tlism representS a
feticitous Fall, even if one might believt with the Milton of ParwliJe
Ltnt that il would have been br:ttet' had it never occurred at aU. There
need certainly be no vulgarly teleological implie2tioo that every
society must pass lhrough lhi< baptism of fire if it is to attain
socialism; but 1\.hrx's praise for the magnificent revolutionary
•chievemeots of the bourgeoisie is a steady keynote in his work,
inimical to all Romanric- rndical nostalgia lllld monlistic polemic. It is
custonwy these day> among n~di<'lllli to link the bourreoisic with
pGltriud\y, as cqui\oaJently oppressive formations; but this comes near
to a C2tegory error, since there ha.< never been a good word to say for
patriarchy, and tltere is much to be admired in the history of the
middle class. Through capitalism, individuality is enriched and
&\'eloped, fresh cre:~tille po"'ers ore bred, ond new fonns of social
intercourse created.
All of this, of course, is booghtat the most teniblc cost. 'More than

218
 niP. MARXIST SL11LIME

any other mode of production', MIII'X writes in C.pital, '[c•pitalisml

squander.; human lives, or Jiving lahour, and not only flesh and blond,
but also nen e •nd b.-~in. Indeed it is only through Lhe most enormous
waste of the individual development that the development of mankind
is at all preS<:IVed in Lhe epoch of history immediately preceding tbe
conscioos organization of sociery.'" This dynamic, exhilaroting
relea<e of potential is abo a long unspeakable human tragedy, in
which t.he great majority of men and women are condemned to a life
ol wretched, frui~ss toil The division of labour maims and
nourishes sinluhittle(HL(jly, gene:nuiug fresh sl:ills 111td capacities baH il\
a cripplingly onc-sidc<l way. The •n:ativc powc~ whi<:h enable
humanity to coniTol irs en\>ironmeot1 eradicating disease, famine,
nalUJ'Il ca~a>-uopbe, also enable ir to prey upon itself. Each n<w
medium of communication is al the same time an instrument of
division and alienation. Culrure is at once a docutnent of civilization
and a record of barbarism, the rwo as closely imbricated as the rrao
and vm• of a sheet of paper. Capiralisr development brings the
individual to new heights of subtle self-awareness, to an intricate
.,·eaJth of subjectivity, in the very 3ct of producing him as a pred•tnry
<goist.
!\II of thi<, for Mane, is ~cause of the exploitative social relation.<
under which rbese otherwise life-bringing productive forces have
been evolved. Those sodal rclalions w.:rc ncccmt.J)' in their dll)' for
such evolution, such that no simpli~ric dicl1oromy of 'forces good,
relations bad' is feasible; but they haw now come to act as fetter.;
upon free producti,·e development, and must be swepr aside by
socialist transformation. Under socialist relations of production,
fon:es which currently create misery and estrangement will ~
deployed for the crearive self-realiz:nion of all. Capitalism has
generated a sumptuous wcoltb of capacities, but under the sign of
scarcity, alienation, one-sidedness; it now remains to place as m:IDY of
these copadties as po.sible at the disposal of each individual,
convening within her powers which wen: historically bred in murual
i.sc>Jation.
This whole problemAtic, of a dynnnlic energy bJodc,d and thwarted
by ossiJicd instirulions, would seem to place MIII'X squarely in the
camp of Ronunric humanism, with in; e:orpr=ionlrepression model
of human exisrence. This is no longer • model which we can look
upon uncritically, wltatc:vcr partial truths it doubtless contains. To
219
wgin with, there is 0 notable difficulty in Marxist writing OYer the
reblion between the productive forces as material techniques, and
the human powers and abilliies which farm a ~ntral pan of them.
T he di ffict~hy would seem to arise, in part at lea..<t, because the
productive forces indJJJt such human powers, yet arc to be developed
for IM sDlu oflhlrll. In one sen.<e, pm<luctive forces and hullWI power<
would .cern indissoluble; in ooothcr sense.• nn essentially instruroeniol
reladon holds between them. Man himself ,cncraUy brackets the IWO
C:lh:gories t.o gerher, :'IS \Iibert he wriu:s of human weahh as 'the
univena6ty of individual needs, CIIJl'lcities, pleasures, pn:xlut'l.ive
forces ete.'/' elsewhere iD the Grundrisst he >-peaks of 'lbc highest
development of the forces of production, hence also the riche!;t
development uf individuals'." G . A. Cohen comments un the
'eneDSNe coincidence' in Marx's thought between lbe e>;pansion of
the productive forces and the growth ofhuman capacities," wh~e Jon
Eisler remarks that the 11-l.arxist lbeory of history could be summarized
as 'uninterrupted progress of the productive force!;, interrupted
progrc"" of human dcvclopttKnt and social intcgntiun' •• What this
means is that the development of the productive forces under
capitalb.m, which will then pennit ~oci:~lisnt to actualize human
capacities to thcirfuDest, in fact involves lhc stunting and curuiling of
cenain C3pacilies in lhe capitilist en. In this sense, the dt"Jelopment
of the productive forces and of human powers are SJRonymous io tk
md; but one condition of their coming to be so is lhe tngic mutilation
of such powers under lhe domioan~ of capital. For such mutilation is
inevitable under capitalism; ond capitalism is essential to the
development of lbe prcduclivc forces, which is in wm the precondition
for a sociali~t realization or humaD Capacities.
Art, for Marx, is a supreme instance of this irony. ln his view, art
flourished in conditions of social imm3turity such as ancient Greece,
when qua~ty and proportion could still be preserved from the sway of
the commodity. Once it eruers under that quantifying influence in •
more dt\'tlnped historkal epoch, it begins to degenerate in rel•tion to
its earlier perfection. In this field of achievement human capacities
and the forces of production are not only not synchronous with one
another, but are actually in Inverse proportion. But this Is only pan of
the "ory. For ihe power.; which capitalism bneds, once h'berated
from the t)'Ntlny of C)(Change-value. will provide the basis for a future
socialist art e•·en more splenclld than Its ancient prc:decessor. Once
2ZO
OJO!C 1 the c;..pansion of capaciti~ :.lnd of forces converge in the long
run; hu 1 a h~nlPhy pl:riud uf n~gre.;si un nn the.~ pari uf the f(,rmc:r is
esstmia! if this is 10 come about.
TI1e reloltioo betwe<:n forces and capJclties, then, is OOl quite as
l'leAd~· homolog<.loS ~s som~ Mru'Xisa: form~llations , inch•ding some (){
!\i.Ml:'~ 0 14'n., would 51lJ8'eit. This is aiso true in another sen.~c. h is
t .lS)' to see how the e:~:prcss•oo/rcp n::ssio.n model may work fCJf We
!(IJ'C('S of proc:lucdon, which hav<' simply [() burst duough me
integunlalt of capitalist social reb.bons in order to come into their
own. Hul du: motld is IellS illumin:Hing· in lhc: L';J.~t: uf bum:HI puwcrs.
SocialiST rcvol,nion <loe.s not simply libcr~tu: , in t ).prcssi,iit styfc,
whate'lf·e;r capac::iries ha\·e been generated by capitalism, s.inc~ the!je
cap11cirje5 Are by no means indiscriminately posirive. 1r me. c;npi ia li~'
mode of production ha$ brought forth humat'l 5ubjecdve wealth, it has
also fos.tC!(d die hilbits of domination, agpcsswn and ( XpiOHOltiOil,
u·hkh no soci.aJist \lo'Ottld s.impJy Wfnt to see 'rc·leased', W~ ('an not, l'ot
cx·arnple. easily c::xnact the rational kernel of the control of Nature
from tlte shell of tht OpJHessiou uf hutt'l:lll beiuw;. Marx is lll his must
R um:mf:i«_!-hmnaniS~t in hi-.; :f(')Jlen:nt assumption that human f."(l{'l*.i fii';S
become morbid only b)' virtue of their alienation.. repre.ssion,
dis.~tlt.i:tl u m nr um~-!'>i tk..Jnc~. Au I rhis is surd y :t t.l:ttl!,.'CI'IIU!-: Illusion;
;,;·c mnSt ('(ltmt among our c:tpaC'it.ics lllc powtr ro 1orn1TC and wage
war. Tht very tcnns ·p~-er' and 'c.apac:iti have a dc,epti•otly pos-itive
ring to them. as ot' course does the tenn 'crerni\'e'. Bur li.'Ar is A form
of matiQO, s.nd the building ()( concentution camps is a rtalization of
lmmao po~·ers. T hese uneonu''otubte (c>tollaries of Mar.x•s ihJctrit'te
um he r:scRr)t:(l trnl)' bv dc:lming-'c:apaciti.:s' in .511 hmatl ami nr:OOiuus
a sense th:n the term b«omc-.s effccti"·el}' Y2cuous.
It is (XISSibk: tcJ Jull!t· auutber kind of oh~~liun u J Mau\: duclrim:,
whic:h is tha t the icl1:al nf rhc free rcali;r.ariun of human f'O'IIVCt'S an d
capacities is both masculint5t and ethnocentric. It it not ~ard to detect
wilhin thi.~ sl.reuuuusly s.:lf~pmtlucing suhject thr. sh:ad1,.,.. c1f rhe \'irilc
Western m~lc:- Such an Clhk.al oudooL: would sctm w lea11e Unle
$pa<e fo.r the v:Jlues of n iUness and rcccplivity. of being creatively
;Ktell ul't)lt, of wi.st: passi ... erte:SS aDI.i all of the murc: pusili\'C: a~pec.1s uf
the condition whjch. Heidegger will l•rer cerm t.;..~llnrtflttil. There is
probably in this ~ense a certain itx.lsm structural to Marxist thou~t.
as th« e is also perhaps in it$ privilesing of dJat tuditionlll male
11rt:scrv~:, l h~ spherf! nf prudm;rion. Tr this is a re:~.oon to rejecf

211
 Mal'>ism, then it is equ•Uy a reason to reject almost tvery cultural
prodoct from the Stune Aa:e ru Star Wars. It is, ne<renhelcss, cuse
for a ccnain critical resistance ro the otherwise attn.cti\'c vision of an
all-round human ""lf-actualizarion.
If human powers are far from spontaneously positive, then. their
emancipation would seem to require careful di•crimination. ju<t the
same, howe~~er, might be argued of the productive forces in gencrnl,
where the ""''ressiunlblod:ag• pantdigm might once more prove 100
simplistic. A nuclear powt:r &ration i.< a productive force; yet 003Jly
radicals would argue against its development. There i~ a quc:.1ioo. in
oth<r words, of whether the <:l<Jl"DSion of the productive forcts must
not itself be c.trried on within the framework of socialist values, and in
ways compab'ble with sucialist relations of production. Jon Elster
notes thls potential conHicr in a somewlt2t cursory footnote, when he
commeniS that 'a technique that is nprimal in terms of efficiency rnay
not be su in terms of welfare.'" Cenain fonns of work migbt be
simply incompatible with the socialist nlue& of ""If-autonomy,
cooperation and creative self-realization; indted M•nt himself seems
to hold that svme residual drudgery will always characterize the
labour process, and that the expansion or lhe producme forces is
necessary to relc.~.Se men and women M far a.< po.<.<ible frorn such
unwelcome labour. Andrew Levin• and Eric Oliu Wright have mado
rhe telling point that certain technological advances may ha,.., rhc
effect ofweakening working-cia.. organiJ.arion and <lrengthening the
politic.! antl ideologic.! power of the boura:coisic." The cvclution of
the productive forces, ID other words, may involve an actual
regres.<ion of tbaoe po~rical capacities which need to be nourished if
such forces are to be apprQJniate for socialism.
There are, then, twO distinct cases. One sees the expansion of the
produaive fOrces <L~ a value in iLctelf, and views 1;0cial.ism simply :as rhe
appropriation and funher development of them for the general gaud.
The other c:a,;o is swnmarizcd by Marx's comment that the forces of
production must be developed "under condirion.~~C most f:avourable to,
and worthy of, hum•n nature' ' 9 The whole concept of a produ<1ive
force hoven; indcttorminatdy between fact and value, rather, as we
shall see, like the Niell.Schean notion of the wiD tn power. If hunran
capadties are reprded as inherently positive; and •iA:wed as ;an of
the productive forces, then it might seem 10 follow tbu tbe expansion
of those forces is a good in iiSelf. If, howe¥er, the development of the

222
forces of JUY.Idnction is seen as iHS!nimfr.ttrl ro th~ re:~lization of
human co;;pac;iries, then the question of which form of m:i.tcrial
d c:\·elopr-nr.nt is lik ~ly hl!st lu 2-I.:Ui mJdi~h lhis guctl i nt!\'it.:~hly puses
iudf.
There rem:JiM, howeve r~ the need to diK.r iminate am.;')ng human
cqtn d rif'~ tlu~m ,.d\'e!\, nnct:
ft !'\ grnntf!d lh:J! sum eo rn:ay he de::truc:tive.
Whence are we to d(riv( tl'.e criteria to fo rm such iudgemeoc;?
Romantic cxpre~sivtsm is quite unlblc ro answer this question: 1f
powers uisr, rht"n the only imp('mti, ·e js dun they !>boukl be
ac~ulll.izcd. \'aJuc, so tO speak, is inscned within f:act: the very face: thu
we p•~!o ~!ls ce11aiu JKI'I'Itl'S ..~,.oulLJ seem to hriuy aloog wiLh it tlte
ttllrtllllth·c itHigw:mr.nr 1hat we ~hou&d !Tt~t:ly rcali;o.r. tht:m. (Jrw \11n
•res'*-·e tbt fact/vaJue dilemma b)· the simple device ofprojecting the
l::auer fnrn thl! furmf'..r. The prttcP.o:&nfim m2n cap:u.:ities will nfll i t~l f
infonn us of \lo'hkh art to be actualittd .and which not, wm supply us
with no built-in criteriJ of sdectioa\; and it migltt tbtn be thought th~ t
such criteriA hlwe to be imported trom some mlrLSc:enctetnal spat'l'.
Mar:t is ~·iously h()Stilc 10 $uch an idea., since part of his thcQrctkal
p l'cject is. to abolish lhe whole ttmion of moral discouc·se <~.!> an are«~
st:pamhle lft•m hi~m)'.
Whether Marx aetually bclicvtd in •mor.at' oonoepu: is ;;a contro\·.;:rsial
issue wirhin Mani:.:m.~.. Tiae Jlrt~hh:m i... tl1a: ht: wnuliJ .:.ppr::tr ufrr:n
C:llongh to dismiss rr.orali()' as idoologkal. wl1i1e drawi.n_g impli(itly on
moral notions in h~ critique of class-5ocicty. T he truth is tlut Marx
doK not so mucl\ rej<'l't rooml i(\', as tmos:bte it in btr~ measure from
supcrSINcturc to base. T bc 'mor21' then becomes identified with the
dyll:.tmit: ~>df-rt'aliza c iu n uf huntu: (klwt: n> - pmitt:ttd1 a.o: it wt>u:, into
th t.~ prodtn:r:ivc; process i~cu· rath('r than nuroon('d as a set of
supcn.tructur.al institutions and idcologjes. Human prcxlli!Crio;e powers
wuuld nm scxm In n :quire mnrnl jm.lgt:ment" 1mpnrt~ l fmm
cls('wherc, from a sp(c-ialittd e.thical spheT<' ~ they \l'Otdd sc.tm instead
intrinsically positive, and 'immorality' would appear to c.oi\Sist in lhci:r
rh u:~ njng, f'~nan~ng and tlisp,...,o nioning, Marx (l(l('S ind('f'(!
po.sscss an 'absolute" moral criterion: the unquestionable virtue of a
rich. ;all-tound e~a f16iU.l of caJ)'..cilies fur each im1i... idu:a1. h is ft-um
thJs ~llllldpo iut thai ;m~· ~iul lCJmnJtiluu i:. lu bt: IIS.' itsM:J ._ cit.ltt:r in
hs currenr Ability to 11llow t(lr s.uch scH~reall:larion., or in its potential
coauibution to $\lch a condition in tile future.
T his, hO'Y'-e,·er. Je;hes ;;a number of questions w\liHS\\tr~d. Wh)·
slrou/J 'aU-round' development be the most morally admirable goal?
And what is to count>< w.:h? Is it the aim of historical struggle to
balance my <"'J'•d'Y to tonure in synunetrical, proportionate relation
to my capacity to l011e? Marx's vision would seem in this sense
curiously formalistic. It would appear les.< a matter of witaJ powers we
express, than of whether we Jur.·e recuperated them from their
estranged, lop-sided sate and actualized them as varioo.<ly, fully and
comprehensively a.< possible' '
There is, however, a powerful rebun21 of this whole interpretation
of Mm<'s case. The riposte to the charge that Man: bdieved all
human po..·ers tn be inherenrly JlOSitive is simply tbattbis constitutes
a Roa~antic misreading of his tcxll;. Marx d01.'0 indeed disaiminatc
bCIWcen diftcrent hWIWl cap&Cides, on the basis of • doctrine which
be inherited from Hegel, and which provides tbe fouodarioo of a
communist ethics. The discriminatory norm in qu<:Siion is that ""
should foster only those particular powers wblch allow an individual
to reaUze herself through and in term• of the simibr free self-
realizat«Jn of others. It is this, •bovc all, which distinguishes socialism
&om tibcralism. This constitutes an imponant quatificatioll to the
Romantic interpretation of Marx; hut it sdll lt:IVes some problems
unrc:wlvo;'tl. For one thint, even if this is indeed the kemd of
Marx's potitical creed, it remains true that be •ery often writes as
though human c•pacitie$ were indeed inherenrly positive, in oblhioo
of his own rm•MJ. For another thlng, any such normative concept of
self-realiwion instantly impticates nocions of justice, equality and
associated moral ideas, whicb means thot morality cannot after aD
belong purely to tit• productive. 'bose'. On lhe contrary, it is preruely
for this reason that societies requir<: 'supersttucrural' inR!rudons of a
juridical and ethical kind, apparatu.scs which regulate the complex
business of dedding between more and I= reasonabl<, creative
biJJliJIJI needs and desires. There is o'Vidence 10 betieve that Man:
hii!IS<:If, despite his 'productivist' mor:illty, acknowledged this fact,
and did not simply dismiss the notion o{iustice, or tl1e need f« sucb
juridical institutions, out of hand. It could be argued, bowcve.-, that
the ideal of self-realization through and in lenns of other1i simply
succeeds in pushing the question at issue back a stage. For Marx's
vision of such reciprocal self-expression Is not, for instance, that of
Hegel, for whom it was fully compatible with S<>Cial inequatity. What
are to count as desirable modes of mutual self-realization? By what
ZZ4
 TilE MARXIST SUBLIME

criteria :~~re they to be evaluated? Such criteria must be discursively

e•t:tbNshed; and Marx, as Jtirgcn Habennas has argued, reJmins
c:~ughl within • pM"""''hY of the subject which passes over this
process of intc:rsubjectivc conununtciltion.6 r h is nor for him so much
3 m>ncr or discursk>ely evaluating human capacities, as of actualizing
them - a position which nOI only takes for granted the positive nature
of human .POWt:n, but SCCJJI$ to assume that such powers aJld needs
arc intuith'cly present to the subject, spontaneously given by the
historical pi'O<><'lS outside the conttxt of intersubjecrive argn.,.,ntatinn.
But if human subjcCI! have needs, then we know already wflat at least
nne of those needs must be, n>mely the need for the subject to know
what illi needs actuaOy are. Gn·en the subject's self-opacity, this is f.Jr
&om self-evident, which is why moral discourse becomes necessary.
The problem for Mane would seem rn he not moral but political: bow
are power; which we can presume to be potentiaOy beneficent tn be
historically realized? 'By reducing the selt'- posiling of the absolute ego
w the more tangible productive ;octivity of the species', 'Mites
Habennas, ' (Marx] eliminates rdlct lion as sutb as a motive force of
history, a ·en though be retlins the framework or die phUosophy of
reflc:ction.•"'
Ifl\.hrx inserts value within fact, a number ofSccorullntcmatiooal
Marxist th~relidans found themselves caught in an WIComforuble
duality between U.e cwo. Morxist science could disclose the L1m of
history, but wos incapable of assessing wfletflcr their supposedly
in.,..·itable outccme was :actually desirable. A neo-Kantian ethics bad
therefore to be imported, to supplement ao apparently ooo-nonuatiV<:
positivism. Dut as Leszek Kolakowski h2s argued, .\tandsm 'is not a
mere descripti<m of the world but the expression and self-bO\Iiledge
of a social process by which the world is revolutionized, and thus the
subject of that self-knowledge, i.e. the proleta!Ut, comprehends
reality iD the very act of transfanning it'." What the fact/value
dichotomy f.Uis to account for. in shon, is emancipatory knowledpo -
that peculiar kind of cognition which is essential for human freedom.
In the critical consciousness of any oppressed group or class, the
undemanding and the transfonning of realil)·, 'fact' and 'value' , are
not separable processes but aspects of the same phenomenon. As
Kolakowski puts it: 'Since subject and object coincide in the
knowledge of society: since, in this case, science is the self-knowledge
of society and, by the same token, a factor in detennlning its situa.tion

225
at any stage of hilrnry; and ~nc ~ in the cue of the proletariat>this
self-knowledge is at the some time a revolutioruuy movemenl, it
folJQws that the proletariat cannot at any point disjoin its "ideal" from
the actual process of rc-aliDng it.''•'J
If lhis is the <'Sse, then Marxism has its own particular answer to
one of the problems to whieh aesthetics offers an imagin2l)' soludnn.
A reified rea•on which believes it..,lf to view the world non-
normatively will forte the issue of value beyond its frontiers, and the
aesrbetic i~ then one place '-''here rhar issue can take up a home.
Momlity, of course, is another: but the Kaoti•n dilemma is one of
how lhis nuumcnal >]lhcrc intcn.:cts with pbc:nomcnal histol)'.
.M..ar:tasm, by contrast, l('JC~es th.e uniry nf 'fact.' 3J)d 'value' in th.e
pr.octic.l, critical ot1ivity of men and women - in a fonn of
undei"SSaalding whkb is brought to binh in the fim place by
el11ll11Cipatory interes~S, which is hred and deepened in active
smaggle, and whicb is an indispensable pan of the realization ofvalue.
There are certain kinds nf knowledge which "" must at all cosrx
obtain in order to be free; and do.is cASts the fact/value problem in a
quite different light.

MaO< is in entire agreement with Ule Earl of Sl1atlesbury- an unb'kely

candidate, othcrnisc, for hi5 approval - · that human powers and
human society are an absolute ~nd in themselves. To live well is to
live in the fn:e, many-sided realization or one's (.'::'.Jpacities. in
reciprocal interaction with the similar self-expression of ochers. We
h3ve seen some of tbe difficulties of this doctrine; but it remains, for
all lh.'~ the single uwst (-reative a>l"'ct of the aesthetic tmdition. As
an acstbctician, MaO< is offended by the insuumentaliution of
human powers, iomtable though this process may be in pre-history.
He looks fur his desirable moral goal to the 'absolute workiug out of
cre.ativc potcnti.1fi1ies ••. ["ithj the development of aU human powers
a.; ""'b the end in it.«lf'... rn the realm ofsocialism, work m11 remain
• n<ccssity; but boyund d1at hori><>n begins 'dwt devel<>psucnt of
human energy which is an end in itself, the b'IIC realm of freedom,
which, however, can h~m (f)rth only with this realm ofnec..ssityas
its b,.,.is. TI1e shortening ofthe worlun~-day is itS basic prereqtrisite. "' If
an mancrs, it is as a type of that whkh has its end entirely in itsclt;
and rhus is most politically charged in it< very 2utonomy.
Unlike Niet,,;cl,e aud Heidegger •fter him, M•rx does not press
226
through rhis #Csthctici:catioo to hum:~n co;tnition it:Sc-U: T his is not
sum~ anaemic rJLiiiJ-naW.m: the ttu:al uf hun1a0 life. for Marx a.s rur
Aristotle, is DOl truth. bm h:~pp.iness or well -bcin~. His wort is an
exrcnsi\'C enquiry into wbat m:uerial condition! "WOuld be necessary
this I(Uill Ill be n:ali.t.td liS li gcuer:.tl hufllllll WHdiliou, iUUJ lht.t:i
fc )t
bcl6ng, to the discourse of classic~! mOTality.~ Man: l, t moralist in
the ll'!t•st traditil11rdl sense uf' tll t tdanl "h.iclt is to say tlt.U he is
conccme<l with the polirirnl dc.rcnnin•rioo:-o (If the gtiOd tif.;;. Hi:i
mo)rality thus stand! opposed to that withered modern sense of the
'morol', impoverish ~d to i.nterptrson31 relations and 'spiritual' vJlues
done-, fOr wiUch cht M.AI'Xist ttnn is ·moralism'.
II is because this !about o( enquity is bistoric.illy neces.sal)' that
thonl(ht, ftn· Ms:n, ha:o at least li•r the prest:ntm n:main i nslrum<:nlal.
Truth may not be the ulcs ofhisto:y; but it n~erthelcss playt a vital
1'113rl in scxurins th:tt t:ucl. lliAI fi nal :tt lithcllcizat..icm H( hun1au
txisrencc wh.ich \\'C .:aU rommtJni!lm c •nnor be prctn:!lrurcly :mricipar('()
by a n::ason which 5\lrreondcrs itself wholly to the ludic and poetic, t<l
ima~::e ami iuluition. hl5lt:w.l 1 u ri~(JtOlC'il r aLlulytical r.! l.itJilulit)' is
occdc<L tO t.clp unlock the f(mttadk"ti.on~ which prcvcn1 us from
:tllaiuiug the Cl"JUdiliou iu whid1 ifiSiswflt:lllalisJU lllay lost its
un~o~o•.::loo mc~ dominam;-c. If may wdl he 1hat in $t;lm<:. fimm; ~tt: i al
order theory, inur\Jmental L\ougbt. takubti\'C reason will oo longer
pl:ly :i ':.t!nlr:tl m1e: in human lift:1 hul wiiJ havr: hr.:tn IT:tnsfurrned uu1
of rccogn.iOOn. To prdigure such an order now. by (ior enmpk) tt.c
deconstruction of theory and poetry, may thU$ be l ''alu3ble pr<';cpric
g:r:shut:. But if an ott-slhcliC e.x.i:>tt:IIL"\" i:t tu be a~.:hit:vc:J f'i ,r all, lhuu~hl
in general must not be prematurclJ ac:¥thcticizcd. Such a mO'·c would
(,t i.tl(tJI~r:tbly JHi~il~td, in SltJ(i el~ ..du~n~ tlu.' (r~edum tu pby, io
tbo~.g:ht or :~n;whcre eke-.. is the pre5crvc of the few. Thosc. po3t ·
$1ructur.ilist thinkc~ wh() urge dut we abandon truth fo r dance :tnd
l:oughll!r migh1 p:mse '" infnnn us just who this ·we• is ~uppoP'ed tu
signifY. Thcor)'. u Htgd kocw. is onJy nc«ssary in tM first pl~t ~
because contradictions exist; as a material event, it emerges from a
..:erruiu hisw ri~:clJy l'ruduced IC f~iou bl:lwten the lk.1.ual anti the
poos;tdc. \.\'hen M11rx jn tbc Ji,-q-,.,"1-.· Md PhiltlSGplu'(Ml .A.1atJttsm:c n
dcs~'llato logj<: as il ~currtncy o( lhe m.ind'. h~ means thit theory i-1
itsdf a kind of conceptual e;"changc·nlue, mcd io:~tiHg 01.0d abstracting
with :; ttn:ain n~l:ess:1ry (OOeg:ard
(Qr ~enSI I Of$ sped fici~·· H(' holds}
hc>Wcvtr. d1<1r u:irhout SJJC"h cooccpn.1~l cxch!\ngt-'':llbc, '3Cnsuott>
specificity will continue to be a minority cult. If the aesthetic is to
flourish, it can only be by virtue of political ttansform:nion; and the
political thus stands in a meta-linguistic relation to the aeslhetic, If
Marxism is a meta-language or mera-narrative, it is not because it lays
claim to !!'orne absolute ttuth., a chimera it hv; con.c;istently spurned; h
is rather on account of its insistence that, for 11ny human oarntiYc
whatsoever to get under way, ccruin other histories must be already
io place. Of the~ hi~ories) Marxism anend§ to the one which
(."Oocc:ms macerial sun·ival and social rc:prodm:tion; but one must add
to Ibis the narrative of sexual reproduction, about which Mancism has
had for me most part little of interest to soy. Without thes. particular
grand stories, every other rkil would grind literally to a halt. It is not,
hnwever, that lhe<e histories merely prmide a space .,ithin which
other stories may be produced; on the controry, they are so utredy
vit:al, engage such enormous resources of buman enell!)', that they
leave their grim imprint on all of our more contingent tales, scorriog
and disfiguring tbem from within.
Sormthlng of the ambivaleoce which characterizes Marxism's
anitude to tbe oestbeticization of lloowledge can be detected also in
its \'ic.w o( morality. In one sense, as we ha\'C seen, Marx "4ishcs to
aestbeticize morality, shifting it fiom a ser of supra-historical norms
to a question of tl>e pleasurable realizotion ofbistoriCOil powers as on
end in itself In another sense, however, Marxism Ides !be point of
Kant's austerely anti-aesthetic SI/Jm. Such a St:aJt conccpr of ducy
need by Tl() means be simply repr<s.,ive ideology, whate•er it might
signify in tbe hands of Kant himsel( On tbe contrary, its force can be
felt in the tragic IWT2m·es of socialist struggle, where men and
...-ome.n have courageously sacrificed their own fulfilment for what
tbey have hoped \\·outd be the ~tearer happiness or omen. Such self·
sacrificial action, performed ·with linle pleasure orul often with less
prolit, is, one might claim, a kind of love; and though love and wdl·
being may be: ullim~~uiy at one, they can ente.r into traP: conflict with
one another in anything less than lhe long term. For a genenl
happiness to flourish, it.,.ould seem mat individual gratification must
sometimes be forgone. 1\'larxism is thus not a hedonism, even tbough
it is all about the enjoyable self-realization of incli\iduals; indeed
Marx bas sume acute comments oo the material basis of hedonist
ideology in Thr G<mUI• JJeo/OfJ•.
'Sacrifice' is a potentially macherous morol notion, to be handled

zzs
 'rn~. ~lUXJ.ST SUBUME

with circumspection. It ha< been, for eumplc, the tndltional

prerogative of women; if men h•ve the h3ppiness, wwnen have the
love. If the idea of self-Stcri6ce is to be more dun oppressive md
life-denying, it must be viewed in the contrn of a wider richru:ss of
life, and so seen under the sign of irony. In lhc regimes under whicb
~ live, the successful :~ehievements we are afforded are usuaUy
somewhatttivial in contrast to the enduring rcatil)' of failun:. Radicals
are those .,.bo seek to preserve in some way a compact with failure, to
remain faithful to it; but there is then always a dmgerous temptation
to fetishlze it, forgetting that it is not in that, but in human pkoitude
and affirmation, that the end nf political action Ues. The trogic lesson
of Marxism is that no such plontitudc is atlllinabk wilhout having
gone right the way through failure and dispoosession, io order to
omerge sumewh.re on the other side.
l\llanism subsists, lhcn, in the twilight zone between twu worlds,
the one too much with us, lhc other as yet powerless to be born. lf It
clings to the protorols of analylic reason, md insi>"tS upon Wlpleasurable
politico! responsibilities, k docs so ironicaUy, in the awareness that
these necessities are in the ,.,me of " future where they will no looger
be so essential. It is iD this sense that there is for 1\,larxism both
rupture and continuity beiWren present and future, os opr-d to
riiO'SC brands of reformism, apocal)pticism or 'bad' utopianism whicb
sbcken thJs difficult dial.clic at tither pole. \\'hat one might call 'bad'
or prtnlllhlre utopianism pabs instantly for a future, projecting itself
by an act of ,.ill or imagination beyond the compromised political
strutrures of the present. By failing to attend to thost forces or fauh·
lines wirhin the present which, developed or prised open in particular
ways, might induce dut conditiom 10 surpass itself into a future, sucb
utopianism is in d.•nger of persuading us to desire useles!lly rather
dun feasibly, aod su, like the neuxoti<, ro faU ill .,.;th IOOJing. A
desirable but unfeasible future, one whicb fails to found itself in the
potentialities of th~ present in order to bridge us beyond it, is in this
sense the reverse of the future offered to us by some bnnds of social
determinism, which is inevitable but not necessarily desirable. Once
more, lyajuc' must be some hoYt' ext:r.lpo1ablt-from 'fact', the outline of
a future worth strupg for discerned within the practices of the
degr.uled present. It is this, surely, which is the most ¥it.U meaning of
that currently contemned term, teleology. A utopian thought which
does not simply risk making us ill is one able to ttaoe within the
229
present 1hat secret lack of identity with itselfwhich is the spot where a
feasible furore might germinate - the place where the furure
overshadows and hni!DW!< out the present's spurimL' repleteness.
The hopeful side ofdte nam li\•e is exactly that 'value' is somehow
demable, historically speaking, from 'faa' - that oppressive social
orders, as a matter of their ro~tine operations, cannel! help gtneratiOJ
dte kinds of torc.:s and deSires whieh can in principle ovcnhrow
them. The grimmer side 'of the narrative is then th•t we bave, in
effect, no way of undoing the nighmwe of history other than with the
few poor, contaminated instrument! with whieh that hiMory has
furnished us. How can history be turned against itself? Marx's own
response to this dil<mlllll \\'liS the boloot im.aginable. History would
be transformed by its matt contaminated products, by those hearing
d>e most livid marks of its brutal ity. In a conditioo in which the
powerful nm illsanely rampant, only the ~rlcss can provide an
image ofthar humanity ..,.·bich must in its tum come to power, and in
doing su tramligurc the very meaning of that term.

l Pic= Bourdicu and llloin Darbcl. Liz Diftintti..: crili'{f« s.a.k lilt
jugtmmr (Paris, 1979), p. 573.
2 K• rl Marx, .Em<...U OJUl J>lr;bMphioJ Mmuucrij>u, in .Karl M•n: F.mfy
Wnliop, introduced by Lucio Colletti (Harrnondsworth, 1975), p. 356.
Here2fter cited a~ ~eo~tti, £PM.
3 CoOetti, EPlrf, p. 355.
4 Ebiae Surry, 17u 8'* in P•in (Oxford, 1987), p. 2+1.
s JiitJc• Hah¢mw, Kn..Jdv a"' HulfWI Jnrmm (Oxford, 19m p. JS.
6 Colletti, EPM, p. 352. Sec abo I. Mcs!iros, M•r:r'r ·11rtory ofAlinrlltin
(lundu11, 1970), Prut 2. chapltr I .
7 Ibid., p. 360.
8 Ibid., p. 361.
9 Ibid., p. 361.
10 lbfd., p. 359.
II Ibid., p. JS I.
12 Ibid., p. JSJ.
13 Orid, p. 354.
H Ibid, p. 364.
IS Margaret Rose, Mor.rH•SIAtrtlun'c(C:unbridge, 1984), p. 74.
16 Coletti, £PM, p, 365.

230
 nfl, MAIXJST SUBUME

17 Quoted by S. S. Pr•wtt, Klll'i Manr •114 World LitmJturr (Oxford, 1976),

p.41.
18 Karl Mar:c, G""'llriur (Hanncmdswonh, 1973), p. 511.
19 Colletti, EPM. pp. 352-3.
20 Sec Oa•id Mclellan, Man: &fi>rr Mam1m (HIIntlondswonh. 1972),
pp. 243-i.
2 1 Colletti, EJ>M, p. 3~.
22 See Milduil Lifs!Utz, 11rtPAilwJphy ofAn <>[KAriM•nr (L.oodon, 1973),
pp. 95-6.
23 WJ.T. Mitchel~ lam•~ (Chicago, 1986), p. 188.
24 .Kart Marx, G.pit.t, \'01. I, lotroducxd by Emest Mandeel (Harmonds-
wonh, 1976). p. 165 .
25 Ibid., p. 167.
26 Marx, Gnmlri!S<. p. 149.
Z7 Colletti, EJ>M, p. 181>.
28 Ibid., p. 234.
29 Ibid., p. 233.
30 Ibid., p. 234.
31 Ibid., p. 88.
32 Ibid., p. 89.
33 Ibid., p. 89.
34 ~oted in Pnftr, KArl Ma,.. •"" W•tlof Liur•t•rr, p. 291.
35 Collcni, EPM, p. 329.
36 Sec l\1arx Cruodrisu, pp. 110-11.
37 Ibid ., p. 706.
38 Ibid., p. 488.
39 Collett~ EPM, p. 358.
'I() For an intcrcsting account of the semiotics o( this text, see jeffrey
Mehlmw, Rcvolwiun ,.,./ R.pffltilm (llerl:eley, 1977). Sec also Jem·
F~i.s Lyowd's commcniS on die 'Manlsl Sllblime' in Lisa
Appignancsi (ed.), Pwmodmtism: 101 Dca.mnus 4 (London, 1986):
'Wiut is me sub!Jme ia M..r Very precisely h is"' be found at the point
be calls labour for<:< . . . ·nu. Is a 111erapbysical notloo. And withln
mnaphpics, it is a notion ..-hich designates what is ntn dctc:nninalc.
Wbtt is not prest!'nt :md ~1 ppons pnsence , . , The ~:hole theory of
c..plo>itatiou rest< oa this Wca, which is sublime' (p. I I).
-4ol Jrintertextuality is rhe theme or the roJiowiog pass:agr, it is al">its roml. I
h;l\'C dr.awn bcre, in adapted for.m, on various o( my prc\ious comments
on 1he Eith~mtth Bru,.,ir<: fi'Oill Crititim aod I~ (Loodon. \976),
Jllalw Bmjdmin. ., T-trls • Rro#lulio""ry Critimm (London. 1981),
'Mamsm and the Pttsl', in Sa/mt1f.Mdi (f'all 1'.185-Winttt 1986), and
'Tile God that Failed', ill Mary Nyqui>t alld Marprct W. ferguson

231
 (edt'), li.t:-:Wo'mltlf'ingMil:t<n (N~· YC'rk 11nd I A;~n do:l , l95i). 11n1Silh!t
this is the 1~1 time: I $hall 'I'.Titc on rhi<l ten.
4 2 M~n- t~.~t./ FnU{:.: .\'~.'Nt.<J W~'rl"' (I.Andf)n1 1'"68), p. 98.
<43 Sc.oe V.' ahcr Ren}amiB, '1'h~ nn ~ Philno:ophy d l-li$10I'f, in li:mn.•h
.o\J?.rwif (t;'d.), lf!tnJtlttilliMI! (J.l)nd on~ )CJ73:1.
·H .4flllrr and F.rtg!s: Sr,'u :,-dlf'.,,Js, p. 4l'.l.
45 'l'h~r AtltlrM, .\:•~1ti7_1r. l>tnLA1111$. (L..'\nrk:m, 1973), r. 6.
46 Raynumd \\i lliam.--., C:u1nl1'1 arui Sr..i try /780- f()J() (Harm,.."td$~nnh ,
fll.it5), ~· ~2( 1.
-17 f~:nj:amin , fltuti'tMUmu, p. 2M.
48 (j, A. Cum:n, K:.:rJ M.:~:;r's Hrwy ;.j'Hi!t<Jry; A /Jt[UK~ (OxtUr:J. 1978),
I'· !05.
<!'! !~ill, p. JZY.
so Jbi~.• ~- 131.
51 Jhill•• p. 131.
52 •"brx, (~1-,i!tJI, wl. :l , qoote..J by (.()hen, Kil.r! ' "'IX'S '/itti"J t( Hi>~Nry,
p. 2.5. Foe ;,ui..:M.dlcut .:1.v11nt ofllu: }imultaaJWUsl)· cmauUp;altlry :t:1ll
(lpprt:<:!oi'll: dt."l•dupmem of \.'3fl fi:JJf:•m, »t:t: .\lan.haUHeman, All J'lutt It
SWiJ :'.frfh /11;, AiT (1\:cw Yuli.. 1982), !'an I 1.
SJ Mar~ (i,,.,..,J,i;Si, p. +88.
54 Jb,d., p. H I.
55 Coh<-n: Ka'U"'•TX': ·u-y t{1/ist,~r.r~- I+7.
56 j()ll [l$1 ~f. ,Ut~l:ill',\' SOt¥ l!{lrla1;r (C:.~JUllf ~d~~·, 1985j, V· 304.
S'i lbi ~ .• p. 2-1-Sn. El$l« JS admittedly wnting here I'Jf' !be IJbo\lr J)tCtCCS.'\
iw::f, •ather th·u t «>f 1h.; vrodllt.'ti'..: fUt~~o:~ v•optr. lM d•t ~")Jut Ius
perhaps a mM< general appliutioo.
58 Andircw £A:..·ine ~d Eric Olin Wrtllbt. 'R., no~lit~' a.od Cla.ss Strunk ,
in ,'\t~m Ltfl Rtr irm, no. 123 (Scptcmt..::r-Octcbt.:J. 1980). p. 66.
59 .\1an , (.'cpital, vol. J (,\totoO'¥", l962), pp. 799- 8:00.
60 for the issut of l'llOfality in .\bn:is:m. sec £. Karnml:a. :Heux/f"' ,;e,f
£tltia (I..()Mon, 1969}, K2r.e Soper, 0.: H~tm.m N«tis (Hri,r:"ltM, 1981),
Dtnys Tum<r. Man·!lm -uJ CJm'Jii&Nit:; (Oxford. 1983), I luge) .\leyndl.
F~u!. M:~..,; fl:~d ,.t.fc.nrlt (Loadon, 1981), G. Brt-nk.trt, Mt~rx-'t £,;,;(f 4
f)y,'f!tHn (l .rondtm, 1?R:l), S1.::w:n IAlkt:t, 'MaMsm, Mora hi) and ju ~itt'
in G. 1•1, R . P.uti.T'~on (td .), lib,. <JnJ Mt:rritnl (C:•mhridtt, 19R2),
Steven l.t!k~-s. M:.m!m ar~rl ,t.J.-ili'~ (Oxfu:d, 1~83,1. 6 . Oilman.
A lit.·n;,;·i·'Jn ((.::aiflb tid~e, I 'Ill' I), f'•rt I, cltaptt• ... 1\1. t,;ohen, T . NiCtl
:aod T . S«,.,.. t~~,~~~·, (eois), Mur.ri~"l,Juwit ""' lb~u,,,, (Ptmcctoo,. 1980j, lind
Nom:un Gcl'.as, 'On M.vx and Justi~;e ', x~ U;'i Ra.-.,·trP, r10. 150
(March- April 1985J. On the qtt<Niion of the r~alino.tion of btlman
C'l p1.ci!:iet, it i~ intC'~sri~ thai M11.rx 'll-TOit', "nd tb:·n <'l'~d f.lut,. th(·

232
 f(IJ!ov.i ng ~'91~ ln Tltr C(f'tlfillt ld.~.1olr (qooted In .\gn(s Htlltr, Ur
'nti'IJry ~lN«J• ;, ,\t.n (l..otlrlon, 14)74, p. 4)):

Communi..'\t atganisation has .a rwo-fold n Tect Oll ~ dC':SirC':S

pt¢duccd in the individll-al ~· ~~nt ..day CQndit~s: Komc
ol these dc,irn - namd)· thMc ('xisting und('r a.IJ conditi~os ,
which ar~ly ch2n!(C lllcir f<J.tm and directi-on under ditYcrcrtt
S00.-1 roodiliCmS - ;uc mcrd y Jltcr«t b)· 1hc ('(lfM!uni:lt $0Ci.AI
system, for the~· arc ~n the opportunity to develop "o""ttl(r~
l)(ht rs, how~·cr - n~mdy those origirW~dot~: in a P-ll"'.i culu w,iai
or
s}"!ircm . . . -arc rnra!ly dt:pri•·cd rllrir cnndirtr.ns of u i:;rcnc:c.

61 for a brid critiquc of the oodon ()( seli-realludo)n, Stt ,l(ln FJ~rcr, ,in
/11trohtticn 10 !Guf ~«aD' (Cambri<lg{', 1986), ch~tcr l . Fw11 more
at<"-rldcd, dctailc-d and illumlNidnf ac:roun( cl MarYs ' producrh'i.wn\
.sec Ka.tc S<lpcr, On Htl1ltil1tl .11/NfiJ, especially c·htpu:-rs 8 and «),
62 Sec Jiirgcn Hodxrmn K,.o mJ~ •nJ Htn.'ltlflf lwntJll , diaj'lfcr :l and
n~ T'ltNI'tl v{C~m'111Hti.-..l~v..icfflilt', 1'0l l (BMI.(In, 1934), ()l•prer ... For
an cxcdknt cridque of dlc '('hllosnrhy or rhe :'luhjttf', :;ce &)i a
l\t.nh.ahlh, Critiqut; N11,.,_ .J#J LftQjli~ (NcY!' YDf'k: )986), dap~u 4,
6l Ha~ I'JMS-, K'fl~>•lt:oigr 1uti Hu."'"" l111nm~, p. 44.
64 I A':WCk Kn-l:tkf'I'N:'!ki, M,;i11 r.ttrrntu r.J•.Mtmi;M. \'<ll. II : Tire Brr,;i:Jcu·r;
(<h:for<.l, 1978), p. ~71 .
,:.; 1hid., p. 170.
66 ~-h.rx, Cnt'1r!n'1:r, p. 4&tl
1.7 M•,..., Catdtal, m i. II (New York, 1967), p. 820.
68 SC·C' Dcnjs T lltftCr, M.tr.n'~"" at~I (:11-ri.u .iulty (C nrt~rrl, I YXJ), l':tn I.
 9

True Illusions:
Friedrich Nietzsche
II is not difficull to trace certain gencnl parallels bc1wec-n hi>1urical
materialism and the thoupu.of friedrich NiciZSCbc. Jo'or Ni<czscbe is in
his ov.11 way a full-blooded materiali!<t, whatever scaot regard he may
pay to tlw labour pnx;css and its suc;al relations. One might say tbot
the root of all cultun: for Ni<rzschc is the human body, ~re it not
that the hody itself is fOT him a mere epheme.ral expression of the will
to power. He asks himscJr in Tlte Gll)l Srimre whether philosophy bas
'not been merely an intupreration of the body and a misu•dmtan!ling
ofth< botly; 1 and notes 1\ith mock solemnity in the 1i;!ilight ofth< Idols
that no phit.Jsopher has yet spoken wirl• reveren~ and gratitude of
the human nose. Nicttsche has more than a smack of vulgar
Schopenh.luerian pbysiologism about him, as when he speculates that
the ''P""'d of Buddhism may be attributed to a I= of vigour
consequent on tlle Indian diet of rice. But he is right to identifY the
body as the enonnous bllndspot of all traditional philosophy;
'pbilos<>pby says away widt dte b.JJ, this wretched id<c [tx< of dJe
senses, iniccted with all the faults of logic tlw· o:ist, n:futcd, even
impossible, although it be impudent enough to pose a< if it were
real!' ' He, by contrast, wt11 return 10 the body and anempt 10 think
everything through again in terms of it, grasping history, an and
reason as the unstable producrs ofiiS needs and drives. His work thus
presses the original project of a""'hC1ics to a revolutionary extTeme,
for the body in Nierzscbe returns ,.;th a •enJC2DCe as the ruin of all
djsinrerested !ipeculation. The aesthetic, he writtS in NitlZlCht ConiTiil
Wf1&11<T, is 'applit-d physiolog'.
It is tlle body, for Nierzschc, which produces whate-.·er tnlth we can
achieve. The w<ntd i.~ the way it is only bec3use <>f rhe peculiar
 TRUE ILWSIONS

>triiCIUr< of our senses, and • diffen:nt biology would deliver us •

difTeunt universe entirely. Truth is a funcrion of the malerial
evolution of the spt:cie.: it is the passing effi!Ct of our sensuous
interaCtion with our emironmeot, the upshot of what " 'e need to
survive and llourish. The \\ill to truth means constructing the kind of
worid within which one's powers can best lhrive and one's drives
most freely funCtion. The lJJl!e to knowledge is •n impulse to
conquer, an apparatus for simplifying and falsifying the rich
ambiguity of things so thai we mighttaltc possession of them. Truth is
jusr reality tamed and tabulated by our p.racricol needs, and logic
is a false equivalencing in the intensts or survinl. If Kant•:t
lrallSQ:ndcnw unity of apperception has any meaninJ at all, it rcfcn
not to the gbosdy forms of tbe mind butto the pmvisiorul unity of tbe
budy. We think ll5 we do becouse of the son ofbodi<> we have, and
lhe complex relations wilh reality which this enu.ils. It is the body
rather thilll the mind wbic:h interpret< the world, dlllps it into
lllllnageable cbunlcs and assigns it approximate tneaninp. What
'knaws' is ()lJJ multiple sensory JlO"·ers, which are not only •rtefacts in
d.enuet.es - the products of • .. ogled history - but the sources of
artefactS, generating as !hey do those lif¢-cnhano:lng 1\clions by whkh
we prosper. Thought, to be sure, is more than just • biologicol reOex:
it is a specialized function of oor drive-s ,.·hic:h CliJ1 n:finc and
.spiritualize them over time. But it remains the case that evct)'thing we
think, feel and do moves within a frame of interests rooted in our
'species beinr', and can have no reality independendy of this.
Communicltion itself, which for Niecuchc as for Marx is effectively
synonymous ,.;,h consciousness, develops only under duress, as part
of a material struggle for SUI'\Toal, bowe'o'er much we may later come
til delight In ir os an •crivity in i~Self. The body, a 'richer, dearer,
more tangible pheoumt.."l1U0 than Cuns<.-iotJsnCS:S,J figures in effect ror
1

Nlerzschc as the uncooso:lous- as the submerged sub-tem of all our

more finely reDective life. Thought is thus sympwmatic of materi:U
fom:, and a ' P'}'Chology' is that sccp«al hcrmcocutic which lays bare
the lowly moti\'U which impel it. One does nor so much contest idft<
:1> find inSlCribed ,.;thin them the traces of humanity's hungering.
Thinking is thus inherently 'ideological', the semiotic mart.: of a
viokncc that now lies erased beneath it. What fascinate• Nie11J>:he is
the incessant hankering which lies at the core of reason, the malice:,
rancour or ecstasy which drives it on, the deplo)tnCnt of instinct in

235
 instincfs own r<:pn!Ssie)n; what he atter~ds to in .1 di5Cl0urse is the low
murmur of tbc bod)' svcalung! it1 .:~11 of Jts gl'e.:d ot guill, Lik~: Marx.
:"Jietzsche Is cut to bring dc"'n !bought's <rcduklu:S trust in hs 01.1.1\
autonom)', •md <lbo'o'C all thar ~scetic spiritualit} (whethe• its uau\t= is
St.icut:~. religion ur phihrsllflhr) whil·h film~ ir.-. c,..·c::.o; in hnrrm fmm
dtc Wood and mil in which idea; arc a<tu:ally born. That blood a.nd
1uil ;,,.. ~.~:b:tl lu: nauu:" •g.trtt::alog)''. in t:unlr.tl<ll 111 1h e: om!-(ding-
C\'01utionisrn of 'hisrl)l)''. CTh:n gn1csom<' dominion of nooSC'nsc .ilnd
acddtot that ha& so far been g)Jcd "history'", he scotTs in DQt~N.!
r;,.,,a •md 1-.~·ii.)• Geu ~:alo,;) uuuwsb tl1 ~ Wsn:11t1ta!Jic utixitls uf m•blt
notions. th< chanci.nc:~s of their functions. iUwninatiog the dark
WtlrlshiJj) whtrc: all thuugl11 il. fashiuu ~:ll . H i~IHtm ~d lnt1 t:1l v:a.lue"
a!'\' the bloodstaiocd fi1.1it Cif a b:trbarous Mswry of debt, ronurc,
obligation. rt:\'Cngc. the .,.hole OOrrific pro'c-ss b,· which the hvman
anilll!ll wns s;·stemrnic:-ally ~gt• ned rmd detli!ifnted to be rt>ndert"d lit
(or dvilited society. I fi5tory i-; .iufl a morbid morallurion through
which hwmuLil)' lt:ot.ri'IS lube a:)hamal of its uwu iu:>LinCL-t, am.J ·e ~·t:r)
smallesT ';tC)l on c:.arrh h:a.-, b('<.'n f!~kl fi>r h)' spiri"Tal :mel physi,.,.)
torture . . . how much blood .1nd CT\Ielty lies .11t the bottom of.t ll "'good
lhing&'"!'' f'nr l\'n~l7:<:du~ :l!i (m M.:mc, •mnr.tliry' 1., nul ">U rnut:h ~
mancr of probkms as .1 problem all io itsdf; philosophers may hJ''(
queritd this or tbal tntJrJ I vaJut, but Lhe)' have ll<ll yel problemattl.ed
the very concept of morality, wtuc:h fo.r Nkt2s<he is 'rllC'.rely a sign
lauguJge of the ille.::I~~:'
Rnther ,, s fi)J' Marr thl.' rmd uc:tivf:' fnrc~o; hec::umf! shat:kl(:d 2ml
<On$tnined by .1 set of social rtlatioos. so ior ~ierzs6t the
produc ti~e Jjfe-iostu-.cu; ;'lfC enfeebled and 'orrupted inro what we
lnO\'' f!S mortJ st~bj('('thood, the gulle;s1 gbl;trnct ' herd' ml)l':.liry of
conventioM;} society. This is e5SentiaJJy a movement from coercion U)
l!t:g:en1un.v: 'Munlil,'t is Jtrt:~.:ec.l cd !Jy ormr.fi'Mln~N; iJldeed, it itseli
rcmain.f compul$ion f()f' some time, to which one Stlbmhs ro twoid
disagreeable <:onsequcnces. L;;;.ter it becomes cuuom. J.ner still free
ubc:di.:n~.:e, :mc.J lius lly alsrM~st becorues if•Stinct: tlttn, Jike every thing:
long c.~ • stom:1.ry ancl mm1ral, it is link<:d wi1h gratilK:1111iuu - wuJ Ull\lo is
called f'irt.ltt. 1 ~ \Vh.at we have sec!\ in Rousseau Md other micldle-~clllss
mor:th!>.ls :as !ht: SIJIIn:ntt.ly po~tivt '<ilesiDeric' mmsition from Jaw to
sponwnd cy. naked l'lf)Wcr ro plc:•:ruruhlt hubit, is lur .' tit:tz.'i\:ltt: the
last "~~.'Ord in s df~repression. The old bartlaric law ;riell.h to the
JuW~o·Chrislian jm•cntion of 1he •free' subject.• ~s <1 mtt~)chi.sric

236
 TRUF. lll.USIONS

introjection of authority opens up that interior space of guilt, sickness

and bod conscience which son>e like to call 'subjectivity'. Healthy vital
instincts, unable to discharge themselves for fear of social disruption.
turn irtwllrd to gin birth to the 'soul', the police agl!nt within tach
individllll. The inward world thickens and expands, acquires depth
and impan, thus heralding the death of 'wild, free, prowling men"
who injured and exploited witlto..t a care. The new moral cre»ture is
an 'aesthelicized' subject, in so far as power has n01<· become
pleasure; bqt it signals at the same rime the demise of the old style of
aesthetic hWillln animal, which lived out illi bcauriful barl>aric
instincts In splmdld unconstraint.
Such, for NiellSChe, were the warriors who originally imposed
their despotic powers on a population hwnbly waiting to be hammcn:d
into sbape. 'Their \liOrk is an instinctive creation and imposition or
forms; they are the most involuntary, unconscious arti>'U there arc ...
They do not know wh•t guilt, responsibilily, or consideration are,
these born organisers; they exemptif)· that terrible artisls' egoism that
bas the look of bronze and knows ilsclf justified to .U eternity in its
''work", like a mother in her child."' It is this brutal ruling·dass
dominion which drives underground the free instincts of those it
subjug:Ues, creating the self-k>.uhlng Ufe of sc~nce, religion,
asceticism. But such sickly subjecthood is thus the product of •
magnificent artistry, and rcfleC!li that formative dimplinc in its own
festering mosochism:

This se<:rct self-r.Mshment, this artists' cruelty, this

delight in imposing a form on oneself as • hard,
recalcitrant, sullering m:~~crial md in burning a will, a
critique, a con.tt·:ldicrio", a conr~mpt, :1 no .lmo it, this
uncanny, dreadfully jO)'Ous labour of a soul voluntarily at
odda with Itself that makes itself suffer out ofjoy in making
sutTer - ewnt11:ally thi~ entirely aaiw ·b~d conscience'
- ,-ou will have guessed it - as the womb of .U ideal
md ~tivc phenomena, also brought 10 light m
abundance of strang<! new beauty aod affirmation, and
pub"P" beauty itself .•• 10

There is no question of Niettsche simply r<grclling the horrific birth

of the humanist subject, unlike some of Ills less wary modcrn·dar
237
acolytes. In in< :l!luring unity of disciptine and sronuneiry, s:>distic
form and mollwble rn:nerial, such a Cr>v.!n, self-punitive animal is an
aeslhelic mcl2<-t oil of i1s own. If m is npe and violation, the
humanist subject reaps lhc perverse aesthetic dcligbrs of a ceaseless
self-violation, a sado-masochi5tn Nietzsche much admires. And since
an is lh2t phenomenon which gires the law to iw:lf, r2ther than
receiving it pa."iSiiwly from ~brewhere, there is a sen.~. in which rhe
anguished monl self is a more exemplary aesthelic 'YP< than the old
warrior cbss, who master an essentblly alien mate.W. The authentic
art work is c rearure and creator in one, which is truer of the monat
subject lhasr of the imperious war-lord. There is something beautiful
aboul the bad COI!Science: Niet7SChe derives erotic stimulalion from
humanity's self-IOrture, and so, he implies, does humanity itself.
Moreover, this compulsively self-r2vishing creature is not Dilly a work
of :m in irself, bur the source: of oil sublimation, and so of aU usthelic
phenomena. Culture bas its roots in self-odium, and triumphantly
vindicates lh2t sony condilion.
All of this ma)· seem gntifYingly remote from Marxism; hut rhe
parallel lies in a cenain shared releologism, however uncomfonably
lbe word may ring ill lbe em of at least NietZSChe's present-<by
disdples. Tele<>logy is a grossly unfashionable concept tt>day even
among Mnrxisrs, let alone Nie~heans; but like many a demonized
notion it is perhaps due for a linle redemption. For Niei:!.SChc, lbc
breaking down of the old, reliable instinctual slruerure of lhe human
animal is on the orae hoond • catastrophic loss, bringing forth the
cringing, sclt:.lacenling subjccr of moral ideology, and throwing
humanity on rhe mercy of rhat mos1 tre:Jcheroos, deluded of all its
faculties, consciousne-ss. On the other band, this tlcclcnsion marks a
major advance: if the corruption of instinct makes human life more
precarious, it also opens up at a srroke &..sb possibilities uf
experiment and adventure. The repression of lire drives is !he basis of
aU grear :Itt and civilization, leaving as it does a void in hum:m being
whi<b cullure alooe can fiU. Moral man is thus an essential bridge or
transition to lhe OY<rman: only when the old savage inclinations have
been sublimed by the imposition of 'Mrd' morallcy, by the craven kwe
of the law, wiD the human animal of the future be able to take these
propensities in hoond and bend them to his autonomous will. The
subject is born in sickness and subjection; but this is an essential
wmkshnp for the tempering and organizing of ntherwi.<e desarucrive

238
 TltUE IU.USIONS

powers, which in the shape of the ovemun will burst through morol
fonnations as a new lind of prod11l1ive force. The individual of dte
furure will then buckle such powers to the wk of forging himself into
a free creature, releasing difference, heterogeneity and unique
selfhood from the duU compulsion of a homogeneous ethics. The
death of instinct and the birth of the subject I• in thl• sense a
fortunate F.U, in which our perilous reliance on calculative reason is
at once an iruidious oof1<:11ing of fibu and the ad\lent of an enriched
existence. The morel law w"" necessary in its day for lhe refining of
human powen, but boo now become a fetter which must be throwu
off. 'Profoundest gratitude for that which morality ha.• achieved
hithcno', Nie12:Sehc wrircs in The WiU to Po=r, 'but now it is only •
burden which moy become a f•~>lityl' 11 'Many ch2ill$ have been
placed upon I!Wl', he remarks in T/:, WanJm.r and his Shtubnz>, 'that
he might unlearn behaving 2S an animal: and in point of f>et he has
become milder, more spirirua~ IJU)re joyful, and m<>re circumspect
dwr any animal. But oow he still suffers from having bome his chains
too long . . . " There c•n be nn sovereign individll21 without
straitjacleting custoon: having been disciplined to interlllllize a
despotic law which ftanens them to faceless monads, human beings
are now ready for that higher al'5thetic self-government in which they
will bestow the bw upon themselves, each in his or her own uniquely
autonomous way. One •ind o(inrrojectinn, in shon. wjJI )ield gmuod
to another, in which the wealth of evolved consaousm:ss will be
incorpomted as a fresh kind of insrinctu31 !tructure, tr.-ed out with •B
the robust spontaneity of the old blubaric drm=s.
There Is surely a remote analogy between this vision and historical
m•terialism. For Marxism, too, the transition fmm traditional society
to capitalism involv~ a falsely homogenizing law - of economic
exch>nge, nr hourgeoi• detll<lCracy- which emdes contrele particu-
larity to a shadow. But this 'faU' is felicitous, one upwards mther than
downwards, siru:e within this dull carapace of abstract equality are
fostered the very forces which might bre:~k beyond the kingdom of
ncc•-.sil)· to some future realm of freedom, difference md excess. In
necessarily fa&hlonlng lhe organized collective v;orker, 2nd in
evolving a plurality of historical powers, capitalism for Marx plant>
the seeds ofitsov.n dissolution as surely as the epoch of the 111lbjettin
Nie11.$Che'• eyes pnpares the groomd for that which will ovenum it.
And Marx, like Niettsche, would :romctimcs seem to view thiJ
Z39
<7""'C:rt\lrn.iog as an o•eccomw.g of IHl)Ci!lity as sut:h. WJu:u Niel:r:M: h~
~Jit:Uks ul chc wuy in whit:h L111tsc:iousnc:st ah:..itacfs :~ nd intpfl'\'c;.ri5llr,.,.'i
the rc·a ~ his lan,:uagc is cognarc with Mar:t•s disc01.1rsc on 0::\<:h.a.ng:e
v:.1hae:

Chrning to the n.uur.:: of cr~t;mat ~·nu,·itHitnas. the 'W(IrlJ of

...,hid! \loc t::m het:rml~ t:rmsdm Lo.; is: unly :1 s url:;t:~;:- nnd
sign-world, :1 -.·orld that is made common aad mtaner;
wh3tC"'Cr becomes cortScious !;a~,"~ by the &31\\C roktll
sl1alluw, tJtiu: rt:lali\·dy stupid, !(t:fll:rul: ~i)Ol , hcn l sixnal;
all bcc()mirllt eons.cious im'Q)vc:; a grc1t and thorough
oon·upticm. fals.iiicar;c•u. ft ductior• w supetJit:ializit s: :mtl
gcnt:r.tlizutiuft.11

\Vh;at is true of coosdousa•css as such. in Nietzsche's eMn:tue

nnminali.:;f vic-:w, is fi• t Man an r:fl(:c l ul' c:mnnudiliottinn, whcrchy a
coMf)Jcx wealth of usc-value is stripped to a meagre index ()(
exchange. f or both phll05ophers, however, hist'Jcy mo·.-~s by its bad
side: if for Mux ~his commodifying pn:l('('S':: ~rnanciprr~tes hllmRnicy
from the privil~gc and ptr()6.ia.l:ism oftradi1iooa.l socit ty~ layinjtdown
the condilioos for fret, equat. uni,·ersal iut~l'\."'urst, fot 1'\ietzsebe dK-:
drelll'Y narrative· ot hl.lman.ity's 'becoming calrulablt> is a neces;it~· t~f
its specics-bcing. for without su<:h. calculability it would n~ SW\'i\•e.
LA111.i o.: is a lk:tiut! iu N ic~;c.•~;h~ ·~ t:)t>S1 sine..: oo l wu t.hiugs can he
ide nti ca l~ but liL:c the C(tnivalcncing or c ~e h :mgt': vah.tc. ir i<; :.t once
repressi'wc: .md potcnti.d ly emancip~lc>ry.
·nu: present :agt:~ rhl~n. i:-> fur l:M11h Nietzsche :md Mun. pmrac-
dc•nic: to a ITI(If'(" dc::sirabk \:onditir.n.. at on<."e impeding and enabling
it, a protective matrix now ddlniti\·<:lyoutgrown. (f the two are alike in
thi!:l re.~-r, rtu.'!Y :HI! nloo s1n Ungly similu in nlhers. Anrh st:orn nil
anodyne ideaUsm aod othcrworklliDC'ss: '1lu: mte \\'f.d'ld,1 CQm.mcnts
(\'ietzsd:ae in notably !\1arxist jdiom, 'ha,s been erecttd (m a
~.:untradic:tiun uf ll~e real wurlt.l."' Ea..:h lays 1,:lai.m tu an t:n~:r~)' - uf
pmdut.,.ion, 'lifE>' nr the will 1n pA"ter - whkh i!; 1h1• smart:<.! :tn•l
mca:5-urc of all vllhl c b\lt lies lx:)'ond such wh1<;. T hey :m; ccJ u~\lf a1
one in tbeir negali\'C ut ()pi ~nism1 which spccihcs tht gencnl forms oi
01 futwt: r..thrr thau Jl!t: ~Jr.A fls its ~.:unl rnLs; :.sud t:tdt iu~itu:s lhat
ruttJTt in IC:ml:i IJf :>UTJl)tiS, CII\.'<.".SS, U\'ert:nmiltg: iflC(IfnJTICUSUrubilit):
tC'-"0\'<' rin.g a &ost sensuous~ ar;d sp('d ttcit~· throug.h a transtigul"t'd

HO
 'I"RUJ: ILLUSIONS

OOflt:t:p l uf m.tiiSure. Both th.inkcri dc:cousttu<:l idealii'.td u.uittes imo

their tMJccaltd material confliC'tiv(nt3S1 and art dc('pt)· wa.ry of aU
altruistic rhetoric. beneath which they detect the fugltive moti<1ns of
powtr and stlf·inttrest. lf onty lhose actions art mom.l which are
done purel)· for the iake of ochers, >-lieW<he remark$ wryly in Oilmn,
then thc:n: art f.Omund actions al all. Neilht-r t lu:uri~ uS(;rih.:s a hi,;lt
value •o consciousness• .mieb is berated for its idealist bums and
th.rusa 1r.&d to its ntu<.ltst loc:atil.. with io -a bn~ de.:r field of b.ish)ric.al
cl<:l(nnina.tiuns. For Nic::t.-:o;chc. I.!C.m S(..-inu :-.1lt':SS a.-s $Uc:h io; inc:nrahi)'
idc-al:iSI, swnpin~ a d«'tpdvely ttable (being' on tht maruial pro«ss
of ;cbange, becoming; multiplicny, opposition, rontr3dic.tio•l-t war\"
l'"or A·larx, dtis meoophysiC.lJ or reihcatof! impulse of the mind .,..ouJd
S«m to inhere in the: specific conditions of commodity fetishism1
wht:t'~ dwuge is sintilurly frozen and noaluJaJjt.t:tl. Both art: SL-qlliud uf
the c:uqrory of the subject, alt.hougt. Nicaschc a good deal more so
dJan Mal'.x.. For clte latel" MaOt, the subje<:l appeats &imply as a
.o;uprorr fi-~r the: .~ial !'rruc:'lurc; ;n Nicrt.<;ehc'.') view rhr. st•bicrt i.-. a
rtiCJ"e trick of grammar, a convenitnt fiction to sustain the deed.
If Nietzscl\e~s thought cao be pilf;'llle:IOO to .\1arxislll, it can abo be
deciphered by it. Th.e con1empt which. Nieusc.he e\•incco; ti:w
bourgeois mora.li'Y is UJldcntandablc enough in the .;onditiortS of the
Genm.1u t lltPiJt u(b.is time, wh~re the:-n~ iLidlt: cl•s; W'd."i fOr lht: nu~L
1)1\n C'OIItcOt to seck inOucnce v.ithin Bismarck's: autoer:>.tic regime
rathe-r cltao ()fl'er it a decisive J>Oiitical chaUt:n@t:. OefeH:11tial and
Jtrugmaric. tht:: Cic:rman huurgt:nisic: di.-oonwncd i~;:> tli'inwi': rcvl)lnrion-
:try role for •he bene6ts of~ capiulism in!ti'.lkd in larte measure from
'above' - by th.c: prote.;tion.ist Bi:smarck.ian St<llt ilsdf - Olitd for the
prot«tjon which. such tm li<'C'Ommodt~.tion to rulin$-dass polities
might furnish <lf3in.st "hat V.'~S rapidly to become the greatest
scxial.ist p11t1y io iJlt:' vo.·o dd. Dtprivt:tl uf piUI)I.!f" 11ulitiud rqm·..•.;erdaJion
by Bisma.rd's implacable oppositicn to parliamentary government,
thwaned ;~nd overshadO"W·cd b)' :.IJl lltrogant arist(J(;t·atisu·a: d1e m iddle
<lass c.."1ll£llln Hu..iSf:d a nd munue~n·re.l within rh(; :'itruc:tun;s of :;tate
fl'll'WC'~ til:noro1.1~ in iu politi.CJI dem~nds on its superiors and ttrrlfied
by the swdling sociali4t damour of its subot"dillates. ln the f3Ct of
this mert, t:1mfurmisr w :uum Niemch~ sw11ggeringly 3ffl rm.-:; th~!
'<irik, (rc(;-b<J.oring va.lt1cs of the c!d nobility or warrior c.Het. Yet
it ls equally possible to see this autarchic, individ\lalism :15 an
idealiz~:J \'L'I"siun of the buur!>"Etrisir. itself, with :all the daring.
 dynaruism :lJKl sdf-suOicit:tlt:~ ir rni~;.<ht an:ai11 in m(N't" propuwus
~uc..'ial d rt;ltmo;tances. T ht" aniv~, s;dvenmrous UbmtJroJth <:.m s a
D<lstalg:i< ~!an(( backwards to the old miliury nobility; hm iu hl">
insoleudy t:xpltcit ~ itJtqni)it: he alsu prdipm.:~ a WX~nsrin•ted
bourgtois subject. 'To b~V< ;and to want to have more- grow,·h. in one
word - thai is Ji(e its.elf'l IXnluucnls 1\:iclZSJ.:he in Tiu Wtf! !(t Pt..·rrur, in
the t.:llurse nf an anti -socidi:d <iiarrib(. (f Conly manuiacturcrs were
noble. he retJ(cts in T,'te Gay ScitN«, tbcre might no1 be any SOC1ali:-;m
of lht n1as:;cs.
'l'ht pr oj('("(. howevH, is mort' complex and panad9xk-:al than some
Carl)iC'.m or Disraeli.u1 drum of grafting tht hetYJic vig-:m r uf
arisltK:nlt)' •mlu s leaden hrJUrgt:oisic. It t·unc:t:m.s, nuhcr, an aC'lllC
oonrraJiccion within rhc middJ-e cLass itself. T he problem is tJu.t the
mural, reli&oitiU" :~.ru l jurittk.1l 'o;uflen.:tn.•t.:rure" t.) f rh:u t:l:l":>s is em~ri ng
inw conOict with hs own productive entr),rieS. Cln~cien<c:, duty,
leg-~Jily ;u~ ts5cnti31 foundoltio•:.s of tlte t-ow·gooxs oo< i:~l otder ; )·et
they also Si!r'ie ro impede the u nbridled stlf dewelopmem of 4
tlle-
bourgcoi:; subject. T lut adf-<kvcloprnc:m i; ironica.lly at odds with
the \'t:F) 'nu:lal•bysit.::.d' 'Values - abso.lult gtlJuttdS: slable itlt:uliti.::s,
nnfi.ssurcd oond noiri~ - llfl'.ln whidl midd)c:-cJ;;o;,:o .sociC'J)' rrndc~ for
its politi<:al:sc<:urity. The dream of t~th cntrt prtotur is to he .,..iJqlly
nm;ortstmioed in b.is (W."' ~H; rivity, whiJI.' rtnmring- flr!lh~t:ti(ln in rh ~
CMpor~ti! fonns of law, polirici, religion and t thics from the
pote•mall)' mjw·ious acti.,.ilies of othtr!> of his kind. S uch ' on:srrilinrs.
h1.twc••cr, must then ap~ ecaually hi him~l : , undermining rhc vet;'
t ut<rnom~· tht)' were meant to $a(eguard. lndhidual scwcrtitn~· 3.nd
1m:ummr.m:m:ah1llty :are n ( du: esscm:t:, Y"'l \\nuJtl st::!tll :tttainable
only by a hcrd-lilcc lc\·c;Uing an(! hnmoy.t:niring. A11 shc.cr :miln:hit:
prOte» or produc~'C for::e, the bourgeois ~ubject threatens in it!
sa1btimely inext-,austible ber.oming 1n 1mden :m lin: n•ry :-;l:lhih;o,mg
social rcprcS<'ntations i1 requires. h ill the bourgrois h.irnsdf. if onl)
he would acL:nQWicdge 1t, who i!. the lrue anardist .anti nil:li.list,
kickiJ)g away at every Sltp tilt ulctaphysical fou.ncbtLon on which he
de ~nds. T o relllize itsE-lf tillly, Then, rhis. r.:rrnng:~. scll-rhwar1ing
subject must somehow 6vt:rtbrow h'K'l(; and this is :;urc1)' <" ccnrral
meaniJlg of the sclf-OV'crcoming OtnrmtnJ~-11. The aesthetic as .i~~Jf..
flr.tu~liz~ari nn i.co in c:nnllic:r wirh rht: ae.~rhr. t il: ill> ~ud:tl h:.rwuny, ami
NiftzS('h( b r(c:klesilly J'I I'(:J>l'r('d to $acorihC'\oo: 1he lann tn ttw fimner.
Bourgeois man .u moral, legal ~nd political $Ubicct is 'more sick,
 TRVE ILLUSIONS

uncertain, chaug~blc, indeterminate than any other animal, ttl ere is.
no doubt of thar - he is the ridt animal';" yer be is also lhe bold
adventurer who has 'dared more, done more new thln!JS, bn\·ed more
and challenged fate 100n: than all the other animals put together: he,
the great eJq>erimenrer with himself, discontented and insatiable,
wn:slling with animals, nature, and gods for ultim•te dominion -he,
still un•·•nquishtd, eternally dir<:cted toward the future, wbose own
reslless energies never leave him in peace .. . '.11 This magnificent
self-entl'q)N:ncunhlp tragically enWis the mmbid gmn of tooscious-
ness; but Niw.&che wiD, so to speak, lift such productive: dynamism
from 'base' to '>'Upcr.;tructure', >!tattering the metaphysical fotms of
the lancr with the furious creativity of th• fonner.
Both subjects •nd objects •re for Niet21Che mere 6ctioos, the
provisional effects of deeper forces. Sud1 an eccentric • iew is perhaps
no more than the daily truth of the capitollit order: the objc:<c'IS wbidt
are for Niet>.5Che sh.eer transient nodes of force ore as commodities
no more than ephemeral points of exchange. The ' objecti•e' world for
Niet7.<ehe, If nne can speak in such terms, would seem at once
turbulently 'ital and blankly meoningless - an accurate enough
phenomenology, no doubt, of mart.et society. The human subject, for
all its ontological privile!!", i.< likewise stripped in 5\IA:b conditioos to
the reflex of dcqx:r, 1Jl()re determinant processes. It is this filet that
Niewche will seize on and rum to advantage, hollowing out thi>
already deoonstructed figure to clear a p•dt for the advent of the
avcnnan. As tbc ideal cnrrcpn:neur of the future, thi> bold cre•ture
has learnt to relinquL<h all the old con.soWions of soul, essence,
identity, continuity, li'iog prtJ\'isionaUy and resourcefuUy, riding with
the vital current of Hie ltsdf. In him, the cxisdng social order has
come ro sacrifice its security to it< liberty, embracing dte groundles.~­
ness of existence u the 'cry source of it> <XalOt!ess sdf-experiment. If
bourgeois society is caught in a cleft stict betw~:cn eocqy and
ontology, betw.,.n. pro.ecuti11g its ends and legitimating them, thea
the laner must yield to the fonn<:r. To aDow the old metaphysical
subject to Sfllinltr apan is to tap directly into the will to po,..er itself;
appropriating this force to f.1shion a """''• ungrounded, •esthetic
being who carries bis justification entirely in himself. In a reversal of
Kierkcgaard, ethic.< will then hzo·e given way to aesthetics, as the
foeti on of a >lHble order is sweptoside for the more authentic fiction of
eternal self-creation.
243
Tile most no.abiA: difference bcrween Niet2SChc and Marx is that
NU.12SChe is not a MarxisL Indeed he is not only not a Marxist, but •
bdligm:nt opponent of almost e-ery enlightened b'bc:ml or democratic
value. We must resist all sentimental weakness, he reminds himself:
'life itself is mmtial/j· appropriotion, injury, overpowering of what is
alk11 and weaker. suppn:ssiun, hardness, imposition of one's own
forms, incorporation, and at least, ot ils mildest, eocplo!tadon ... '."
Much of Niel7.<che's writing reads like a brochure for a youth
adventure scheme, or the dyspeptic grousings at liberal eiTeteness of
some pensioned-off Penugon general. He desires

spirits strengthened by war and 'lictofy, for whom conquest,

•dvemure, danger, and even pain have become needs; it
would require habituarion to the leen air of the height<, to
winter journeys, to icc and mountairu in every sense; it
would requJre even a ldnd of sublime wickedness, an
ultimate, supremely self-r.onfident mischie\·ousness in
knowledge that goes with greu health."

We must steel ourselves 10 the sufferings of others, and ride our

chariotS over the morbid aud de.cadenL Synlf'llthy and compo~ssiou as
we have tbcm arc the diS~:ased virtues of Jud.aeo-Chri!Jtianity,
symptoms of that self-odium •nd disgust for life which the lower
arden, in their rancorous resentment, have by a strok<· of gmiu•
persuaded their own mas1ers to internalize. The poor have cunningly
infected the >trong Mth their own loathsome nihilism, so NieiZSCht
will speak up in Nm for cruell)l and deligbt in domination, for
' everything haughl)·, mmly, conquering. dotninl:ering'."' Like William
Blake, he suspects that pity and altruism are the acceplable faces of
aggression, pious masls of a predatory n:gime; and be can see
nothing in socialism but a dls3strous elltenslon of abstract levelling.
Socialiso1 is insuffiendy revolut:icoary, a mere coUectiviz.ed version of
tile enfeebled bourgeois virtues which l'ails to challenge die whole
feti~h of mnraUty and of the subject. It is simply an alternative brand
of social ed1ics, bound in thi< sense to its poliriClll antagonist; the only
wonbwhUc future m\151 involve a transvaluation of an ,'Jiur:s.
One does not have to glimp6e In NietzSChe a precursor of the
Thin! Reich to be repelled by th.is grO\'elliog self-abasement before
the phallus, with all its brutal misogyny and militarist fantasi2ing. If
 TRUt IU).I$10NS

Niei2Sehe means such talk as 'lhe annihilation oflhc decaying raOC-<'

lit=lly, thon his elhics are appalling; ifht intends it metaphorically,
then he is recklessly irresponsible and cannot be entirely exculpated
from lhe sinister USI!S to which SU(h ugly rhetoric was later put. It is
remarkable bow blandly most of his present-day acol}1es bave edited
out lheSI! more repuguant features of the N!etzschean creed, as a
previous generation edited in a pr01o-fascist anti-Semirism. The
Ubmnenuh, to be sure, is nor some latter-day Gcnghis Kllan Jelling
rip his murderous impulsf:!< but a tempered, refined individual of
serenity and self-control, sensitive and maguanimoos in his bearing.
Indeed one proper objection ro him is less mat he will exterminate the
poor dum that he represents little advance, for all the Oamboyant
Oourishing with which he is heralded, on the well-balanced, sclf-
di.<ciplined individual ol a famili.:ar cultural ide.illsm. E•en so, ir is a
crucial distinction berween N ietzsche and Marx that the release of
indMdual human powers from the fcncrs of social ualformily- a JOal
which both thinkers propose - is m be achieved for Marx io and
through the free sdf-rcaliulion of aU, and f<)J Nittzsche in dlsdainful
isolation. Nie123Che's oontempt for human solidarity belongs with his
fundamental values, not >imply ..,;th his denunciation of o cum:nt
confotmlsm. The overman tn:~y display compassion and benevolence,
but these are simply aspectS of the pleasurable e>ercise of his powers,
lhc noble decision of lhc strong to unbend magnanimously to the
we.tk. lfhe decides that such compaAAionate unbending is inappropri·
ate, thon the we:tk are at his men.-y. It is aesthetic:.lly gratifying from
time to time for the overman to deploy his fullness of strength to
succoor others, "lways delightfully conscious dut he t<luld equally
use it to <..TUsh tht!m.
Given that Ill<: free indi\iduol cannot be the product o f coUective
action, N"~etz.sche's 311swer to how he emer~s at all must remain
somewhat vacuous. It cannot be by voluntarist transformation, since
N ietzsche has no time for sucb mcntallictions as 'acu ofwill'. lndeed
'wiD J10Wtr' and 'will m power' would stem effective opposites In his
thought. But nor can it be by any vulgar hisrorical evolutionism, for
the ovennao slrikes .;olcntly, unpredlcubly into lhc compbc:cnt
conrinuum of history. It ·would just seem the case that certain
privacgcd subjects such as Frio:drich Nietzsche arc able mystt:rioosly
to tranSCend the nlbiHsm of arodem life and leap at a bound into
another dimension. Such • leop c:on certainly not occur through the

Z45
exercise of crilical reason, which Nietzsche believes uupossiblc. How
coukl the inteHo:ct. !hat crude, fumbling insttwnent of lhc will tn
power, pick itself up by its own boocstr.ops and reflecr critically on the
interesl< of which it is the blind expression? 'A critique of lhc fao;ulty
of koowledse', Nietzsche writes, 'is senseless: how should a mol be
able to critic:i"" it.<elf when ir can only use itself for the crilique?'11
Li1e several of hi> present-day foUowcrs, he would seem to assume
lbat all such critique entails a serene disinterestedness; and then
there is nolhing between this impossible metalinguistie dream and a
start.ly Hobbesim conception of reason as tbe obedient slave of
)>0'0-cr. Cognirino, as we have seen, is ju.<t a fictional simplification of
the world for pragmatic ends: like the artefm itself, the concept cdil>,
scbcmatlus, disregards tbe inessential, in a reductive faWfication
essential for 'life'. There would seem no way,lhen, in whicb it could
gain an analytic bold on irs own operations, even if NU:tzsche's own
wrilinp would appear paradoxically to do ptecisely this. A.s Jiirgen
Habennas has rem:uted, Nietzsche 'denies the critical puwer of
rdkclion with and only with tht m<IUU of r<j/trtion itu/j'." Marx, for
his Part. would endorK Niet=be's insistence on lhe praclical nalure
of l .nowledge, its :tochorage in m>teri:ll intor..u, but reject the
pragmatist ooroUary lbat an avenU emmcipamry critique is !hereby
nece=rily undercut. Wlw concern.< Mon are ju..r rhOS<> historically
specific, 'persp«tival' interests which, being what they are, can only
realize lhcmselves by passing 0\'l:r from !heir <WID particularlly to a
profoundly interested enquily into lhe structure of a whole <OCial
formation. The link for Marx between local ond general, pragmatic
and tOilllizinl tlloupt, is secured in the tim place by the cnmradlctoty
narure of das< society itself, which would require global transforma-
tion if certain highly sp<:dfic demands were to lind !heir fulfilment.
JrNietzSCbe is able to know that aU reasoning is s~ly lhe prod act
of the wiD to f>Oil'"'• then lhi< knowledge itself .tw-e. something of
reason's classical nmge and aulhotity, unloc\ing the o;ery essence of
lhe real. lt is jiiSI that tbis essence turns out to be me truth lhat there
are only ever sectoral interpretations, 311 of which are in fact false.
The quanel between Marx and Nietzsdtr turns not on whether there
is something more fundamental titan reasoning- both thinkers insist
that there is -but on lhe consequent locus and StiWS of reason within
this more determining contm. To delhroae reliSOII from its
vainglorious supremacy Is nor necessarily to reduce It to the funclinn
of a a~n -op('.1'1 cr. lndc(d just as Nletzs<'.hc at ooc poinr adnowled~.s
that reason a~~d passion arc not simple opp06itts - it is nUsttken, he
ar~t'!> in 'Ou Will"' Pnnor.r, tn talk a~ if C':\'C:Tf pa~iQn did not P055CSS
its quantum of rca.son - so critical reason for Marxism is a potential
within the: gruwdt or histuri(;~] inlt:R.$l... l lu: n itit-:t.l rr:ao;on wh ~ch
might enablr. an (n't:n:omi:ng of c11 pitt~l ism is for M~ D' immu cm
within that &)'Stem rather as for Niet7.$Che rc.150n i5 a quality
immanent tn desire. M:tn.i!':r cririq u~ is Mithf'r p:tr:!chnteti into
hiStory &om some merap~oskal outer sp!C't, nt)f ronfin~d to a rtt1ex
of narrowly partkular irueres.ts. lns1cad, it seizes inioleutly on the
itlt:ah. of IMlU;xt:uis Sll&.:it:tJ ilsdt ~ and t lKju in::-; why it i!t. that in current
COiflditions those ideals arc curiot!sly, p<rsislcndy unrealizable.

Mar:x:ism i; mnch prcooet.t,:Mc.~ with power. btlt refers this issue to

ct:rtain contlicts of interest bound up with material production.
Niet?!:a.iu.•. ~ hy c:onrrn~r, h ) 'Jlll::OT:l!i-il'oos ptM\-er :.~ nn end in itself, v.ith llO
r:uionalc beyond its own seli~gr.nlfyi ng expansion. Th( aim of
Nietzscbun power is not •naterial suf\lival bu1 rich ness~ profus i\)0,
cxc;c;s; it s tru~l es f(lf nu ulher rea:,;lm than tu rc:al:zc i!Sclt: lrunit:ally,
then, there is a sense in which f<>r l\ieltSCh( power is ultimately
d isiftltJ'eSI.td. Ou tbe ooe ha1td, it is w1tu0y iust:par.Jblt: frum tlt ~ play
of S{)Cci !X~ i:nrc..."Tcst:o; <.ln rh 1~ other hJnd, it. broods: coc·.mally upon its
own being in sublime inditfert.nee to .my of its loc.alizcd expression&.
In lh i~ :1..-. m mhc:r W:lys., l\'it.l7.'i.dl4o:an JlflWf!r fs rurui:Jmertt:tlly
aesdletic: it bt ars its ends eotird~· within itself, posili~ thnn as mere
points of resistance essential to its own self-wualizing. 11ttougb Uae
L1mtin}(t:nl l!uaJs it ltlm'olo:. up. rw1wcr returns t:h:m:tll)· to it!idt: and
nothi~ c-an be ( ).tr.aoeous teo it. It is thus tba1 Nietu<'he can be
br.u11Jed by Hc:it.Jeg!):t:r :as llu~ l:r:l u ( 1hr: md:tphysilins- nut lh:tt rhe
wiD to p.owa i:; any ..u.l n of Hegelian ~ SCI'I()(: behind the ..·orld (since
for Niett.sche's full ~blood ed pheaomenalism there is ab5olutcly
IKHhi n~; bt:hind ':IIJJ't:!lnm.:cs'), hu1 1h:1.1 i1 is 1he sult!1 fmul:lmenf:tl.
uni\'Crsal fonn the world takes. Will to powu mean; the d)·namic self·
enhaoccment of ill! thing5 in their warring rnultiplicity, me
shilling
force- field by " 'h1ch they eXtf.&nd, ~otlid~:. :Hrugglt' ilml 01pprupritlu::;
:mel it ts rhus nn lcilll:l of 'l:ll!ing' llt ;all l:tllt sint'e i1 denoltS that
differential relation of quaot:t of fortt'i wbich is the $hape Q{
lWCrytbing, it inevitably caontinu~ to fulfil the conceptual function of
su~:b •bt:int .. .Su it i!'> th:u 3 mcldt:m de1o·uree of rhe m:a..,er, Gilles
Delellle, can write with a ~rtain rhetorical strain that ' The will to
power is plastic, inseparable from each case In which it is determined;
just :IS the eteJruJI return is being, but being which is affirmed of
becoming, the will to power is unitaJy, but unity which is affirmed of
mulriplicity.'"
We have already encountered more than onC<! the idea of a force
whicb is 'imcparablc from each case in which it is determined', and
this is the law ofthe a<:sthetic. The will to pmnr is and is nota uniwy
esstn<-.. in jw.'t the way that the lnDer fonn of the anefact is and is not
a universal law. The 'brw' rcgubting the work of art is 110( of the kind
that could be abstracted from it. even pra,isionally, to become the
subject of argument •nd analysis; it evaporoteS without trace into the
stuff of the anworl: as a 11·hole, and so must be intuited rather than
debated. Just the same is true oftbe Niw.schean will, which is at once
the inward shape of aU there is, yet nothing but local, >trat£gic
variations of force. l\s such, it can provide an absolute principle of
judgement or oniOiogkal fuuadati<m while being nothing of the sort,
as Heeling and quicksilver as the Fichtean process of becoming. The
K:mtian 'law' of taste, similarly, is at once universal and particular to
the object. Poised at this conveniently ambivalent point, the idea of
the 11ill to power can be: used In one dlrectloo to lambaste those
metaphysicians who would hunt out an essence behind appeanmces,
and i:n another direction to denuua<.:~ the myopic heduni.sb,
empirkists and utiliurlans who are unable to peer beyond their own
(mainly Eogli.<h) noses to applaud the mighty cosmic droma unfolding
around them. It pennits Nietzsche to combine • fuU-blooded
fouadalinllallsm, one wblclt bas searched out the secret of all
existence, with a scandalous pcrspecsivism which cao uphraid u
effeminate fantasy the abject will to truth. Will to power is jU>t the
universal tnub thatlherc is no unmrsal trUth, the interpretation that
aD is interpretation; and this p:~r.tdox, not least in the hands of
NietzSChe's modem inheritors, aUows an icomx:lastic radicalism to
blend with a prudently progmatist suspicion of aU ' global' theorizing.
As with Schellingiau 'indifference, or Derridegn 'difference:', it is
impossible to trump this quui-uanscenderual principle because it is
entirely empty.
It is worth enquiring whether the wm to power is for Nietzsche a
matter of 'fact' or 'valuc'.lt would seem that it cannot be a good in
itself, for iflt i• coterminous with everything, by wbar standard could
248
 TRUE lLWSlONS

!his be assessed? One cannot in !'liielzScltc's view >l'Cak of the value or

valuelessnU$ of existence a.~ a whole, since thl• would presurpnse
some oo1111ati•e crileria outside of exis1euce itself. 'The value of life
cannol be estimated', he "'rites in 1'ht 1'r:>ililhr oj'tht ld4k; and this is
at least """ sense in which he is not a nihili$1. The wiD lo power
simply u; yet it is also at die source of aU value. The sole objective
measure of •alue, Nietzsche comment< in 17tt Will ID PoiPtT, is
enhanced and OJB'<Inized power; so that what is valuable is less the will
to power 'In itSelf', whatever that might mean, than the ways it
promotes and enriches itself in coordina1ed complexes of energy.
Since human life is one such possiblt <nrichmcut, Nietzsche can
claim that 'life itself forces us to posit values; life itself values duouglt
us when we posit values'." But the .,ill to power would seem to
promote and complexitY itself anyway, b)lmtw: ofiiS •ery 'essence'.
Dandelions, for instance, are a lriumph of the will to power, resdessly
e.q>anding their dominion by appropriating new IU'CSS of space. If it
belongs to the 'nature' of the \\ill to power to eoharu:e hself, !Mn as a
'priJ•ciple' it hoven; intlelerminat.Jy between faL1 and value, i'" sheer
existence a perpetual •aluadon.
lf the world for Niel7->che i> valueless, meaningles.> chaos, then the
point would Set III to be to create one's own va~s in defiance of its
blank Indifference. Nletz.IChe Is accordingly stem with those senti-
mental moralist< who hold that to Ji,e well is to live in acconlonce
"ith Nature. Such thinkcl'!l merely proje<1 their own arbitrary values
onto reality and men, in an act of ideological consolation, unite
nartissistically with this self-image. In a subde g~:sture of dominion,
philosophy always fashions the world in its owu likeness. NletZ5Che is
out to disrupt this imaginary closure, maliciously reminding os of
Nature's sheer amorality:
'According to nature' you want to lfu.' 0 you noble Stoics,
what deceptive words these are! lm"8fnc a being like
nature, wosteful beyond measure, indiiTerent beyond
me3sure, without purposes or ~onsideflltion. witJ\out
mercy and justice, fertile and desolate and unc:cnain at the
same time; imagine indifference la;elf "" a power - how
auJJ you live according to this indiiTercn<·o?l'
H umanily, in whal Nictz.scltc terms a 'monstrous stUpidity', regards
itself as theIIlCasuJC of aU things, and oonsidel'!l anything to be

249
 lx:auliful which reflects back its own visage." But lhe very indiff<rence
of the Nk12Sd!ean universe, in contrast to this anrhropomorphism,
so1mds ironically close to some of his 0"11 most d!eri.<hed values. He
..-nres in Bo·rmd Good t~t~d Evil of Nature's 'prodig.l and indiffen:nr
m3gni6ccnce which is outrageous but noble'," implying t1w Nature's
indilforenee 1o wlue is precisely irs value. The itn:~ginary circle
bctv;een humaniry and world is duu ruptured with one hand only to
be resealed with the other: it is the \'el)' hllughty heedlessness of
Natute w!Uch would seem to mirror Nietzsche's own ethics.
It is in this sense that Niewche, for all his mockery of the
sentimentalists, is not exactly an existenrioillst. At one level, be would
indeed appear to argue such a ease: the world's lack of inherent value
forhid< you from uking a moral cue from ir, leaving you free to
gmenue your own grnt11itous ' " lues by hllmmering this hrut<ly
mcaningk., material into aL-,'!br:tic shape. The ethical here is purely
dccisionistic: 'Genuine philosophers . . . are commanders and
legislntors: they s;,y; thus shall it be!'" Bur to live in this <tyle is
precisely to imitate Nature as it truly is, an acbicR-mcnt beyond the
purv<yors of th• pathetic faOacy. For the way the world i• is no way in
particular: re:oUty is will to power, a variable compl•x of self-
promoting powers, and to live a life of auronomous self-realization is
therefore to u,.., in accordance "itb ir. h is precisely by becoming an
end in \)'\<self that on• most accur.otely mirrors the universe.
Nle173Cbe opptaJS ro equivocate bel\\·een e.\islmtialist and naturalistic
cases; bur this opposition can be deeonstructed, to give him the best
of aD .possible ideologil'21 world;. The splendid ungrounded autonomy
of le,islaring ooc's own n!ues in the teeth of an amoral reality can
il<elfbe metaphysicaOy grounded, in the way the wortd essentially is.
'Lifc:l is hard, savage indifference; bul this is a value as much a.-. a fac~
a form of exuberant, indestructible ener~y to be ethically imitated.
' Jbe will to power does not dictate any p<Jr1irolizr values, as the
sentimentalists believe of Narure; it ju.\1 demands that you do what it
does, namely tivcin a cbanS<=ful, o>puimenral, self-improviSlltory scyle
through the shllping of a multiplicity of •·alues. In this sense it is the
'form' of the will which the overman affirms rather than •ny moral
content, since the will has in faL't no mond content 'Content
hencoforth becomes something merely formal - ()UT life included',
Nietzsche writes in Th• Will to P•rnr." And this is one sense in which
the ,.;n would SI.'Cm at once the highest kind u( value:, aJK! 110 ,-aJue at aD.

250
 ~U.WStONS

There is a problem, however, about wiry one should affinn the wiU
J>O"er. One unnot call it a ..Jue tn ctfmJl lhl• force, since
verything expre.-ses it anyway. Tiuore is no point in legislating tbat
hlnp should do wmt they cannot help doing just by 'irtuc of wbat
hey are. What i.•valuable is mluJn<ingthe will; but wbat is the basis of
ris Yllue judgement, and whence do we derive the criteria which
might determine wbat Is to count as an enhancement? Uo we just
now th.is aesthetically or inmitively, as when Niettsdte speaks of the
easurable fuli•g of power? 'Wbat health is', remarks Heickgger
mlnou.\1)· In his srudy of Nieasche, 'only the healthy can say . . .
What truth is, only one who is truthful con discern.'"' If the will to
ower is itself quile a.moral, wbat is so moraUy positive about
n.ricbing it? Wby should one cooperate with tllis force, any more than
ith a sentimentalized Namre? It is ct..ar that one can choose, tile
cbopcnbauer, to deny the will to JK>I'·er - even though aU such
enials must for Nietzsche be perverted expressions of it But it is
ndear on what grounds one judges that sudt negation is bad, and
w affirming the wiD is good. Unless, of course, one has aln:ady
rojected certain suprem..!y positive values into tllis force, such that
romoting it bec:omes an indubitable virtue. Cannot the effects of the
ll to pnwer be celebrated only If one l.s already in possession of
ome criteria of value b:; which to ossess then.?
The truth, ofcourse, is tlw Niea:sche doos indeed smuggle certain
ready assumed'""""' into the concept of the ";u ro power, in jlJSt
he cin:ular manner for which he scorns th• d~-eyed natut:Jiists. In
DI)'Siificarory gesrure quite as deluded as thein, he naturalizes
ertain quite specific oocial •alues - domination, agg:res.'lion, explnita-
oll, appropriation - as the very essence of the universe. But since
uch relaricm.• of confllct are not a 'thing', their tuenrlallsm is
ysti6c-d in ill; tum. When accus.:d of S>Jbjeetivism., Niettsche can
e!Rat to a kind of positivl.sm: he Is Dot so much promoting any
artio:ular v:alues as describing the way life is. Life is c:tllous, wa>teful,
erciless, dispa.sionate, inimical as such to human Yllue; but thtse
rms an: of coune thorolll!hlY normative. True value is to
mO)Wledge tbotthe amorality of the competitive life-SlJ'US!Ie is the
nest thing there is. The market place would seem hostile to Yllue of
traditional spirit\W kind; but dUs pl.aiD·tninded insistence on
ertain brute foe~> of life is ttself, ineoitably, a value-judgement. 'My
dea', writes NiebSChe, 'is that each speciAc body strives to become
251
ma.~oer over the whole of spaoe, •nd 10 spread ou1 its power- ils Will-
to-Power - repc!lling whatever ~sists its expansi<>n. Dut it strikes
continually upon a like cndeii\'OUr of other bodies, and ends by
adjusting ~If ("unifying") with them.'" Few more explicit theoriza-
tions of capilalist oon>petition could be imagined; bur N'te~-5Che is out
in his own way 10 spirirualize this predatory stale. The will 10 power
may be in one sense philosophical code for !he marke1 place, but it
also delivers an 'aristO<.ntic' rebuke to the sordid inslrumenlalism of
such Sll'llggle, urging ins1ead a \islon of power~ an acsllu:lic delisht
in il>elf. Such an irrationali<rn of power, scornful of all base purpose,
dissociates ioclf from an ignoble ulilitarianism in the nry act of
reOccling the imtionaliJm of capitalist production.

How does one come, unlike a Schopenhauer, to 'chouse' the will to

power? Eitmr !he act of choosing to affinn the will is an effect of the
will itself, in which case it is hard to see how it can be a 'cbCiice'; or it
is not, in which cue it would seem to fall, impossibly for Nietzsche,
outside the will to power'< cru;mic SC<lpe- Nleascbe's own ruponsc to
this dikmma is to deconstruct !he entire opposition between free wm
and detenninlsm. In llu: act of affinning the will, liberty lind necessity
blend undecidably together; and ohe primary Niet>J<chean image of
this aporia is the acti\ity of the artis1. Anistic creation is no mere
mmer of 'volilinn' - a metaphysical delusion for Nictzsch.c if ever
there. \VaS one; but it figures nonetheless ots our finest instance of
emaucipation.
Indeed m is Nietzsche's theme from begiuning to end, and the will
to power is the supreme anef.u:t." This is not to say lhal he places
much credence in classical aesthetics: if the world is • work of art it is
nol a< an organism bu1 as 'In all eoemily chaos- in the sense 1101 of a
lack of oecessity but of a lack of order, arrangemen1, form. he:ruty,
wisdom, and whatever other names there are for our aeslhetic
anlhropomorphisms' ." The aesthetic is not a question of h.annonlous
repr<Senlation but of the formless producU...e energies of life itself,
which spins otT sheerly provisiun21 unities in ill; ctci'Dlll >')>On with
itself. What i< aesthetic about the will tn I'M"' is elCICtly this
groundless, pointless self-gener:tling, the way it determines itself
differeruly at every moment uut of its """' sublimely unsearchable
deplhs. The uni\'erse, Nietzsche comments in 7'11< Will to Po111<r, is a
work of art which gives binh 10 itself; and the anisr or Obmttensth is
252
m•~ ~' hf1 can tap this pnx:ess ill the. 1wne of his own free self·
production. Such an acslhctics of production is tbc CJ'lc.my of aU
collttlilplative Kantian taste -of thai disinterested r ue on the rcihed
aesthetic ubj.:cl which SIJilpctSSCS Lbc tutbulau. ltodeotioos process
()(its making.
The crilical ewnacbs OluSI dw&be overthrown by the virile artisti<
pracriritmcrs. An i:o K:Ofli.')Y a n~l raplun; t.lc:mOJtic: and. dd iri 110~ u
physiologicaJ rather than spiritual affair. It is a matter oi suppk
m1.1S<:les :.N:t :;e n.o:i1\7.~tl nene.;, :m t!)l<~ui!-.itt: tuni11g aud teCis;ius of the:
body ..,.hieb blends sensual irnoxianioo \\i d1 effortless <lisciptine.
~t.z.sch.e's ideal artis1 sounds more like a commando th.an a
·.-i..innary. An i.s sc:•uuliu:tl Ht ib n l' (ll: 'M;J.ling music is just oootber
way of making cbiJdrcn.'J• 'f'b(: ancrapt ro render il dlsin!at•sttd is
mr.rr.ly anuillhcr L':L.,IralinB feminine llMw~ull 01\ the wiD lO powet, :dong
-.·ith science.• truth 11nd ascx.•tkism. As Heidc=gger nntes in :t sl111hhy
little <ommwt 'True, 1\:tetzsehe speak!i against feminine aesth-etics.
.tJ\It in doing so he ~,. for mas...1Jiinc: :acslhetks, ht:m.l: fur
a~sthc:ti~$."!5 The O\·erman is artist and arrtfact, ('rtarure. and cre.nor
io one, wbjch is precisely nol to suggest thai he Jet$ rip h.is
spontancuu.-; Unpulse~. On IJu: W! llrar) 1 Njtu.scbe deuouu«s the
'blind illdulgcDCC of a.n affea' 3.1 the caust of tht gr~attsl C"oi.ls, AAd
~ j ews gt~uts-s of cllar:acler as a manly oontroi of lhe instiu<ts. The
highest ar.sdlcrit: amditinra i-; :ot:lf:-ht:~:.mrWI)': alter thr. lr•1~. ch:gra&JinK
labour of submission lo moral law, the 011nmntJth will finally an,ii.
s.wert!ignty on~r hi!> 011\l' !>uhhmr.d 3Jllll!lites., n.-:tli1jn~ !Uid re iui n~
them in with t U dle DODChalaoce of the stlperbly oon6deor ;artist
<uffiog his m~te.rials into shape. The whole of existence is accordingly
a~thc:tici:t.W : W\: must L~~t: 'j)O(L"'i uf our Lives', Niecz.sd\e prodauus, io
the minutcsl everyday matrerS.J' T he OV<'rman imprcwises bls bting
t'Com 1'tlOl\..Ul iO lllomcnt out of' a super:ab und~ of power and high
:.'(lirirs, .stamping li1nn un the Uu1t uf lhc wurld 1 f~tK thws i.utu
fleeting order. :To become master of the chat>S one is: to compel
Utu::'a; ch:un, to t )rt;J..l t fim1l• is tbt bigim.l ~thetil: aclUevemem,
which only me mos1 dedi c.1t~l S!lth.l-m:asnc:hist t:an :main. The m •ly
w-ong man is sertne tnougb !<l ~ubmh to sllC.h la«rari.ng sclf-
di!cip]inc; thMe who resent this (:OOstl"Jint .-.re ttJe ~ who fear to
1)et:omc: !ihv....-...
The c:onstraim in <auc;srion. in fact, is ur an e nhancing ralh<:r than
()f>pressi,·e kind. What ~ ar sake, as Heidcgger puts it, is 'not the

253
mere subfcction of cbaas oo a form, but !hat mastery which enables
the primal wilderness ofchaGS and the primordiotity ortaw to advance
under the same y<>ke, ine11itably bound to one another with equal
necessity':''' The law of the furore human animal is of a curiously
antinomian kind, utterly unique 10 each individuaL Nothing oulnges
Nictzsehe mon: than the insu1tinJ suSJCS!ion !hat lndMduals mlgbt
he in some way commensurable. The law which the Ohmwtmch
confers on himself, like the 'law' of the anefact, is in no sense
heteronomous to blm, but simply the illner necessity of his
incomparnble self-fashioning. Tite aesthetic as model or principle of
social cooscruus is utt<'Jiy routed by this radical insistence on
auronomy; and it i.s here, pert,aps, !hat NietzSChe's thought Is at Its
most politically suboersive. The i'llmntnSdt is the enemy of all
csubtisbed social mores, all proportionate political forms; his delilht
in danger, risk, perpetual self-reconstirulion recalls the 'crisis'
philo<Oflhy of a Kierkegaard, a.< equally disdainful of meekly habitual
conduct. The aesthetic as auroaomous self-n:aliution is 110w at
loggerheads witb the aesthetic as cu..tom, JuWilus, socW unconscious;
or, more precisely, tl>e latter have now been audacionsly ~~P~>«>PriAted
from the public domoio to the pem>nal life. The 011ennan fives from
habitual instinct, absolved from the clwnsy n:ckoninp of conscious·
ness; but what is admirable in him i< inauthentic in society as • whole.
Hegemony is wrested from the political ateua and relocated within
each incommensurable subject. Nie12SCbe's writiDgs bem.y • profoundly
masochistic love of the law, an erouc joy in the severity with which
artists of their own h umanity ,.Tench the materials of their being into
burnished fonn. llut the idea of a law entirely peculiar to the
individual simply aDO<>'S him to reconcile :his disgust for morbid self-
indulgence witb an extreme libertarianism.
We ha~ seen dm the moral law for Nietzsche, as with the Mosaic
code forSt Paul, is merely a ladder to be lticked away once mounted.
It forms a protective shelter within which one SJ'O'I'S to maturity; but it
must then be alxlndoned, in a Klcrkeg;aardian 'suspension of the
ethical', for the :~dve:nture nf free s.elf·aearion. \\~Dar this enterprise
involves is the tr.msmuting into instinct of aU that oonsciousness bas
painfully acquired in the epoch when it reigned supre.tm. In that
period, the humat1 organism learnt to absorb into its structure the
'umnuh' essential for it to flourish; it remains to be seen whether it
can now In rum incorporale the II'Uth - which Is to say, the
254
tee(lgtlition that there is net truth. Tbt O'Vetlll1J\ is 1le who can
:t~imillltc: and n:uurlt&tJ; c.:vc;n chis terrible l:ncl'Wicdg(·., corm:n: it ro
fiotly inStin(tual habh, dance v.i tho,ut cc.1't:aintics on the brink of tht
ab)'SS. Fot him. tbe vef)' groulldlts:SftesS. (J f Lhe world h•c.l beeotn~ 11
source- of ac;r.l\etk deJigbt and an opp¢nunity for sclf-ir."·cnlion. In
thus lh·iog our .acquired cultural n..lues as uncooscious f(Rex, the
o-..·c nnllll rc::lluplk:111c.; al a hixher l cn~l tlu: h11rbarian whn simfll)'
unleashed his drives. In a rt:~ersal ()( the classic 01esthetic project,
ino;linct will nnw uu:urpurarr. re:L..,Hn: <.<J....cinr:•~Tlt::~S, duly •:af'~o;Jhc:m:i·t.ed'
ts bodily inmidon) will uke- cwt:r the life-sustA.ini.n~ functions 01\("t
fulfilled by the ' lower' dri,·es; and tb( consequence will lx rhat
dt:t:O.\Sl.rut.:liun o( lhe UJ'flir.-.ilion IJChH~c:n inh::lkt:l and iu.-.Uu..:c,
volldon and nec-essity, ofwhicb art is the tupremc pt'OCOcypc. 'Arti1«s
seem 10 h:.t,·e !lu)t'e sensiltve Jl iJSes: in lhtse maltets:1, Niell.sche writts,
'\muwint nnly rou wc:llthat prc~i.;d)' whc~n rhc)' nn long<:r d il anphing
'volu:ntuily' but do C\'Cry1bing 1>f necessity~ their feeltnr of ircedom,
suhtlc:ty, full f".twer, nf err.:~t i \'t: pl:tdng, tli:spn~ing, and fi•rming
reaches its ptol.: - in short, thrn necessity and ':frte<lom of the will'"
then become one in them.. ..,
r\ietz.:"che's. uatcative, titt:n. bcgit\S with :m odginill inc~J.L~~cy of
blind impulse. amblvalcntly admirable and terrible; shifts t(l n mornl
consci<:nce which imperils but also enrKhc:s SU(h imp uls~s: and
t:ubninulc"> in a ltight:r :.)llthc:si.s iu which budy aud ntiud ;are uu.ited
under the 'legis of the former. An origins:;-•brutal ('()trcion gives binh
111:u1 er1 ( Jf mur..tl hegetll<tll), v.:hich i.u luro J)aves the wa) for the self..
h e~cmy of th~ overot;m . Thi~ new dis~s11rit.m comhines., m
tr3ns6rurc:d form. the: spontaneity C>f du: 6rst period with the 1cgaUry
of rue Sttoud. A 'bold' iutroiecnoo of tbe lav.· in the edlic.:.l -subjetth't
st~~e f'J'•es way to a 'goj)d' sutb inremaii2;uion in the rom.in.~ flt'St'he tk
(poch. when freedom and g~·c:rnancc will each find irs ro(M in the
mhr:r. FnT suc:h !1 remor:.des:-1) IU i ti•H t:~cli au thid.c::r as N.iett.S4:'hr,
this sccntrio has scmcthing of ·a familiar riog. Its perrurbing
orig.iaaliLy i!> 1u press lu :a !.bird stage t11t' h~o-pl 1aSC t\)0\lt:fueJll,
filmihar 10 .restherici'ting d'l01.1gh1) fw m CCI(>n:inn f(l h eo~uny. T he
('OnCtpt o ( h~ gtomoay i s retained: bm the la•' tO •·hich On~t wi\1 fi n<t~'
yield c.onsent is 1\(ltbing ~ ~ the law of ~me's uniqU>C being. In taking
•wer lh<: :~~;:!-,ltf!lll: mudr.l uf ;~ fr et:: :1ppmpri:a11un uf bw, but 111
stripping tha( )ll\lo· r)( it5 uniformiry md uni\'Cr$1tlism, Nic:.v;sc:hc brings
Jow any notion of social consensus. ',\nd how sbo1.1ld there be a
 "'common good" !', he scoffs in 89v;nd G()l)t/ tJnJ Et•il. 'The term
contradict$ itself: whatevu can b-e common a:hv.Jys has lutlc ''3lue."''
ln n, r.,·t;glu t{ m, !liM he dP.;mis~ convenrion~tl ...irrue as Jinl..:
mor<' than *mirniC'ry'. thus sC'OJ'nfuDy 0\'Crtu:mi.ng the whole Durkeian
vision of aesthetic: mimesis as the IY.tsis ()( socilll muluality. A:;U.:tics
tnd polities are now outright antagonists: aU gr(-at periods of culture
have been periods of politic:al decline, and the whole rouctpl ur t.hr:
'(;u(Lurt:·:)late', uf tJu: lletthc:tic as t.:ivilizin~ cc_
luc:n iunP-1. S4X:.i~lly
rflcrtpeutic:. iro ~.1$f anorhcr dismal cmasc::ul~ttion of a.rl's .sublim~lv
amor.1l po\4'tr. •l •
Nicv_..u-.r•., ari"mcr:ttic: cho;.c l:.in fnr a common measurll:' is by no
means wholly unJcccptabk to bourgt<)is indMdualbm. Dut it strikes
at tht' root ofCOO\'entional order, and so catches tbt b(,urgtoisie m 1 it$
sorfst point of oonD'adiction bef\\·cea Irs clream of au1onomy and
demand for krality. In tbe eod, Nietzsche is claiming that the I'R2>ent
~imc uf lep) autf omraJ suhja1huud ~imply mctliatei bcrwt1::n tv.'<l
."Varts or ~n~trehy. ont 'Nrbaric' :.nd the othrr ~artistic '. If thjl i1
hardly tlad tidinp for <)rthod6x 60Ciet)·. neither is bis impudent
St:\'t:ring u f all o:nnneaiun hefWet.n an ond mnh. l ( •rt is ·m•t ' for
Niemc:hc, it is only bc<'.atl$(' irs ilhuorineu embodies the ttuth that
there is no ttuth. 'Truth is ugly,' be wntts in TAt Wilt Iii PNcr. (We
possess an lest we- ptrish of the rruth.•ll An ~K"SSCi the will to
poW<:r; bu t rhc will ro power is nothing but semblance~ tnusieut
a(.,t!arauc:t:, :.orusuuu:) :.:u rfa~o:t= . Lift: ilsdf is 'aclilhr:tic' ht.,:su:;c i.t aims
only a1 ·s.cm.bbncc. rnuning, error, dceepri_on) simularioo, d elusion,
se.l.f..dtlll'Sion';... and art ll true to this reality prcci&clr in its f.lkity. It
1s :!l'>(l fal!'e tu i(, !'int:r it iTn(lrinl:$ an qJheJT~erat sOibilil:y of bei:ng (lO
th.is mfaoinldcss W'ill'rint offorces; there is no way in -;.·hkh tbc ~ill ro
power c.an be represeoted Mthout being io that oJoroeJit disaorttd.
An txprrsses the brute senselessness of r.ht- will, but simuluneot~sl:;
oonceah this bck of meaning by the (a5hioninc of siJnifiu nt form. In
doin1 so, it tricks us into a mom<:ntary belief th;lt tbc world has some
sigmficant shape to itt aud S<J fulfals sootething of tbe fw\ct.ioo of tht
l<llnrism imanina.ry.
The mort f.tlst art is, thtn, the truer it b to tht tlSentW fals~ of
life; bur sin" art is d<kmliM&c illusion, it thelcby conce3l.s the tnath of
tltaJ f.'llli.ity...1 Ar a single S('n)ke, :m ~rmrnomntiU!$ •nd sl'tields u s
from the rerribk (un)mnh of tilt t>nlvtne, and thus b dooblr ials<.
On 1h.e: one hand, its COD$Oiatory fonns prot~t U!S from the dre-adful
 TRUE n.LUSIONS

insight that there is act~~ally nothing at al~ that the wiU to powCT io
neither reo!, tnlt nor self-identical; o>n the other h~nd , the V"')'
content of thOSC! fonns is the will its<IJ', whit•b is no more than an
eternal dissembling. Art as dynamic process is rruc w the untruth of
the "'ill to power; art as product or appearance is untrue to this
(un)ttuth. In artistic creation, then, the wiU to power is harnessed and
turned for an instant against its own cruel indifference. To produce
forms and values from this tumultuous fore<o i.< in once sense to work
apinst it; but it is to do so with a touch of itS own dispassionate
serenity, in the knnwledge that aU such values are purely ncli"".
One might put the sorne point d i!Terendy by claiming that art for
ro;ictzsche is at once masculine and feminine. If it is stn:nuous,
muscular, productive, it is also ficl:Je, mencl.u:ious, seductive. Indeed
Nietzsche's entire phiiU50J>by turns on a curious amalgam of these
sexual stereotypes. This most outrageously masculinist of creeds is
devowlto h)mning the 'feminine' volues of form, surface, semblance,
elusiveness, senswdily, against the patriarchal metapbym'S of esseoce,
truth and identity. In the concept ofthewlll to power, these two sets of
se>ual characteristics ...., subtly interwovell- To live according to the
will is to live robustly, imperiously,rcleascd from aD female obeisonce
to law into splendid pballic autonomy. But to have mastered oneself in
this style is to be set free to live mischievously, pleasurably, ironicaOy,
lWMialing in a teasing span of masks and pcn;onac, gliding in and
out. of every passion and subject-position with all the serene self-
composure of the Sllfl!. Nietzsche is thus able to speak up for the
'feminine' principle precisely ~s one of the most virulent sexists of his
age, a tide he shares with the obsessively misogynistic Schopenltauer.
If truth is indeed a woman, then the dairn is complimentary ro
neither.

In the aftennalh of Fichte and Scllclling, NietzSChe is the most

flamboyant el<lUI'lplc we have of a fllll-blooded aesthelicizcr, reducing
....,rythiog there is - truth, cognition, ethic.<, reaUry itsdf - to a
species of artefact. 'It is oaly as an ucsl~<lit ;lmwmmrm', be wri1<-s in
celebrated pbrase, 't:hat existence and the world an: etcmally
j ustified:"' which me•ns among other things dl:lt the blood-spOrt of
history is at least a spm, which intends no hum because. it intends
nothing but iiSelf. Thought itself musr be aestheric:ized, shedding its
leaden eomestness to become dance, laughter, high spirits. The key
Z57
 tthical leJ'ms .:Jt"e !tOblt anll base r;H.htl' than got·Jd aud had, queotimts
of o;t)•le and tal!tr. rarht:r than nf mnral iudgr.mcnr. R i ~r livin(! is a
m;;.ncr of artiJtic consistency, hammerinr ooc>s existence imo an
austerely unilitd ,.;l}'lt:. Art i1 ..elfi s hlt ss1ng and J dh-.•Jtinn: ir mno;r he
Y.'f'\.'stc.-.d from th(': monkjsh idc itlis~:S and restored to lhe body, to Of$)'
and fe$tivc ritual• .'\esthetic ' 'Olluc-jud{erncnts must tedisco¥e!' tht:ir
tme f(l(mti.1tion in the libidin,ll drivt's ."-rt ins:lructs us in the
profound lruth Q( how to );.·e superlici:aiJ:i, fO h:aJt <ll the StfiSUOU!i
!i'.Jtfa~e r.&Jhtt tl1an hut~l Lin: illusory t:SSt:lll."C hcnl':llh i1. l'e rll:.rs
.o;;Jpc:rlir.iality h th': tmc: c::ssr.nr.c: nf lirr., and dc:ptb :1 mere w iJ 1hrowo
0\'Cf lhe autheotic banal.i~· of th::tp.
Tu d:timlh:tllhcre is no1hing hut "ur t:,cc is HI nr~'llf', in ef(ec:t, lhll£
$0\.'-ic ~· mttsr rdioquish its lr~dirionaJ metaphysical justificatiOn$ for
wh1t it doc&. It is a feature of tht ra tion;~..liz.ing, sec:ubrizing <t<.tllii~· of
middle ~-dt~ss sociery, !lS. we h.-v..- seen all't11<1y·, rhar it rend-s f()
undtrmin: tomt of the: very metaphy~icd ,·aJ.ues on which choal society
d ep..~nJs in 1•art ftJ1 ill> lt~itintali on. N it:l:;.$du:'s thought puinJ.s une:
holcf um u f this cmbaiTf.s.o;ing c"nn<1diction: socicf)· should
\\':1}'
reoounct.such metaphysical pictie$ md Jive d;irinsfy, g:r<Jundlcssly, in
Ihe: ~ l t:mnlln• th oi in; m:m:riJI :u:li\'iry. It is thi!:> :u;th.il}' whic:t. in rbt>
concept of the "'i l1 1o power has bttn raised to the aesthe!ic dignity of
an end in itself. IJourgeois producti~e cr.erraes must fu:n~h theit owtl
rcundR.rioa; the \'t\lut.>s \A.'hkh rati.t)· the social order rnusr «-conjured
direccly out of its 0 \\'11 ..·ital fo.-c:es, out of chc :facts' oi it! incesu.u
Slti\ iug l llli strue<glin~;, nut hw <n:ntiully s.qk raddt:d fnHH .st)Utt:
supc;:rnarural .'ifmrc:t:. Hisrnry mu'iT lt ~:Jm II) h<· o;(•lf-g•:ner.lci' 'f." and
sdf·k:gitimabng, open in e.us to the hard lesson of the ae~tbctic.
This wtu.tlt: prulifa;:r:ning flctwork nf dmnin.1m:c, :ll:j:gri!"st..•lmt..,.;.; ami
appropriation must oonfronl lhc dearh of God and h.n·.:- the c.our<!gt
to b-: i~ cwn r.1tionalc. T he dc.-th or God 1s the de.Jth of tht
~•ru~r!> trucnm~ :sodery musr mnke tiel inn'1ltl vli1h tl"e ' l):l~p· n( lno;
prodnctiV(': for<'cs. the •Nil) to JX'"''Ct·
Cl"-1l
Viewed b. this lighl, Nittu:ht'$ work. signals~ legitim:uiot! crisis in
which the- brute facts cf bourg(oi~ 50ticty are no longer cdsil)·
r.uitialllf' hv an i nh~ri tetl nuciun ,,f 't:ulrure•. \\'e rnu..;r 1<::-Jr .:a.~nk: lh.:
•m ;: nd~ciOll5 tinfry' nf tll:tt llllc:gcol r.;::aliry of rhr m11n nf (111hm•\ t )
~ckno"'1edgin1l thai none of the S<X'ial l e~Wmation s on oft'h -
K:mtian duty, 1\l(JJiLJ sense, L'tilit:uioan hedonisot ;aDd dtt t'eSl- afe
uuy hm~~r UJJh'iu( iJ ~g. Rutl:u:l' thao se.:uch au.or.iou:Jy fur :O.Uilk
alternative mctaph~·sirnl g\tarurcc. we should embrace dt.c will to
power- which is to say, the memph)·~ical gu3fantcc that no ulti!rultc
ground is n(.'(.'{k d, {hat vioh:nc;c: and clnmination s n· jwo1 cxprc!l5ir.ms
of the W<JY Lllte univcne is and req uir~ no justification beyond this. It is
this tb:lt Nief'l!':>t:he means by h\i ng aesthetically, c~le~ring pou.·er :1s
an end in iutlf. But tbis rums ou1 tO be simply one more ~u$tificatjon,
mvestjJ.g JJfe with aU the glamour or tbc cosJuic ideologies we should
suwos.ed~· surpass.
Kietzscbc pits the productive vita.ll'Y of s~Xi.al life apillsr its drive
fur mrtSC.-r!sus.~ thus lurning cmt: c:urm·ll uf tbt: at:!ilhetit: :against
another. On the 00( band. <t rampant ats{h.niciz.ation S"'A'(<pi bo~dly
across tbe whole of c-onventional sO" iet)·~ unOOing its ethics and
epis1cmoloRY. s~ttering its sopern..1Htl";31 C..:tl(lool:nions :md scu.:ntit-..:
tocc:ms~ and demolishing in ils radical indh·iduaUsm all po~ibili ty of
stahlc: l"'li•i..:a.l l)rdcJ. On tlat: (Jther hata..l, this ~lla dK:iriog fur..:c: 1.'4U
be seen <~.s the very life-blood of t hat conventional iCdcty - as the
ur3.: In infinite prcah.M.:uvity :&.'<; :tn t:rn.l in itself, '.llitl! c::a.:h JHCJdu~c:r
locked in e:tfmaJ comb.11 wilh the mhers h is ~s thr.mgh. Nieusche
fin(js in this <ltganized soc-ial inationalism so:n<thing of art)s o~·n
f.l)lt:OOilll) autotd iL: uu.ture. Io cuaHettlpi fo r lht tim(lrolls bourgeois,
he unYcils as his ideal thu \·ioJcndy seu:.wnllng crtalure, conjurirt{!:
himself up aoe" :u tft:t y monlt lll1 ,.,bo was fot Kierkep.ud the bst
wmd in •:u~sthc:ti ;;:' furilit}'. Hut rhis rr.roci-rm" nnwercatiun, :>tamping
his ()vtrburitl.!f ! hape on the world ,._;th. aD the lriiUUur <1i the old
t r.~ nsc:e rwl ~nt J I L~&f·!~ ' " h:mll ~ =-~ tlt:W Jo> ht! oppt::trs. If the funous.
d~·namism ot the UM?r.mr.-lt terrifies th.f stout rn<etaphyska:J cidzen,
he nuy als.o tigure <lS h.is fanu.stb; ttlt(l'tgr}. in the sphere: of production
if nm in !he :iltl:n:d flrt cim.:L-.. nf tS.tnil)·, ~.:hun:h IHUI :-."lute. Tu li~·t:
advcnturou.dy, Cl:Pcrimcntally, m-ay jcopar4ize metaphysical certi-
tudes; but such resourceful self-imptov.i.'l:ltiou i,; ha.rdty :an uJ\f:uniliar
lilr.-style in lht: markc:1 pl•t:t:. 'Jic:t·l.'it:ht: io; an asumi'>hingly r• dit:al
thinker>wbo hacks his wa~· throu@'h the superstructure to Leave hardl~·
:a. S.lrul uf it slauJin:;. As r:tr :.IS the ba..oiC gor.'i~ hi~ rJ.dltalisJU lov~
eve~'thing tn<tly liS it wt~s, onlv a good dl.'al ml)re so.

I Fmdr.id1 N i.;:ua;h('~ Tlt~ G.:t)' Sm11n, lr.un;latt:d by Waltrr Kaufm:mn

(1\ew Yoli<. 1914). p. JS.
 2 Ibid., p. 1".
:l Pricdrich Ni.:tzsc:hc, 11u Jf1Ji ta P~n~. tratl:olatcd by Walter Kallirnann
t1nd K. J. Hnllingtble (\lt:\l' )ott, I % K), p. liO.
4 f'rit."tlricfl NM.v_o;..·he, Bqrmd Gtwl :J.M i:,";;if, i11 \\'alu.:r Kaufit'.unn (cd.),
HM.fit. f.J•firilfU ~ Xiu::..st!U (New \' t>rk 1 I %8), p. J07. Hrrt::thcr i111'~
5 f'riodric:h .~ it:l.(:;c:hc, ()" '""l,;..""r•"v ())··.-ww.-ls, ilfj;; p p. 550 and 498.
6 Niet'1scht., Ht:y!ltuf <":MNi lllt!l £::if, HW p. !')II).
7 Frk'tlrich Nic~ftc. H1mum, All 1'uc /ilo·lfu;r;, (jU011.·d b)· Kidwd
Sl.iladn~ Nkt:.uh~ (W •~on, 1983), p. .f29.
8 Niclzscftc. CtntMINf.Y !!J( M1m;fl. ms-: p. S21 .
9 !IJid.. > 'V· 5ZZ- J.
10 lhi..J., p. S23.
II N'tetaio.:hc, 1'h~ !fill !to P..wrr. p. 4tH.
12 fric:t.lrn:h Nicw.x.:t~ 1M Wom;.'n "' :.mi Jus Slid?::.-. ~uotW by Sc:l!..dll.
.'Vi~~-lt~o !). 310.
13 TRr W, S.:t tn.:.r, ~ootcd by Scll:.t¢111,. .vu~hc-, p. 1'90.
1-4 l'•i~:dri<.:h Nict?.:;ch<:, 1Wil._41t f/}' :l.•r /dt:l;, tratl$latcd b) A. M. lcd.,vici
(London, I9'27}, p. J+.
IS :'lli~t.t.'Sdtc:, 1Ut fl/iiJ M Pt~WU. p. J l5.
16 :"'iet:tsd!(:, Ce""~'IOi:J' ~>[ltfemsk, DW p. SS7.
17 IIH<l.
18 Nicl:1.s<:he, fk:;-J G~J 4INI I:t·•l, DW p. J9J.
19 Nk tl$di\:, G~u..:J!•Jgr t~j'Mwllh. lJW p. 532..
!0 fDid., p. 265.
21 Nieu.$Cb.:;, t Nt Wifl '~ PmM; p. 269.
2l Jiirf(n lhb.'!rmu, Kn..,.!fi$r :md H11.- /11~ (Lc:tnOOn, IIJ8i),
p. 299.
2.3 Gille~ r.ttr-n1:e, ,\'iff'!.v/tr ""'" fJ/tillrl;IJI/tr (l.nndt~n, 198~:•. pp. ~$- h.
2~ Nicus<·hl.-, Tlfr T-"Ji'd11 tftlrr IJfJ!r, p. S'i .
2S Ni;·:lru:hc. Rl)Yln.i ('"'~;}am/ P.t•i.', RW p. 205.
26 Nicusthc, H r c~r .,...,-;,,.~~'. r 286; n .. 'lfvilif.h.• 'if'lt,-J:I.)k, p. 1 .~ .
27 Nict?.t>chc:, Bqtomi G~?of tm d E::il, 8Wp. 291.
28 lhi t:l.,p. .126.
2'! Nicwd tc, 111~· l ti'if fir P&~r. p. 4JJ.
JO Mamn 1J c1d~;~r. NNtu(/u , ''t)L I: 1'11e Wif.' '" l'mr:t" ;u 4n (L.ond(on,
1 ~81 ), p. 127.
J I FOc:drich Nietll,chc, .\'odtlm'J, q umed by ,\rthur C . D1nto, ,\ 'jdi: >illt' ~!
f'iu kWJI.•tr (i'/( ·_. Yo"l"k, l tWi), fl· 22ft
32 F4;1r Sift i,'ti('T{'Sfing 1r~111m~n1 !lfl ill'rnty ll:noi t!lli!:ric m<nil?. in Nil"Jmwh.~,
sec Ah:.\:ander .'lthil1fllls1 Nirtz.~du:: Li/t liS Lit<ntt•r~ (C•mbOOJc, Ma:>s.,
IY85). Set: :llliu ,\lbJ! M tflll ~t:s af Ertmr.irJ• (lkrt.clcy. 1985},
Pa n I.
JJ Nitwc.:bc, GnK:JWD t(M'ITIIA, BWp. 521.
34 Niel&$<:be. T'l.t WiN I() PoUW',. p...21 .
JS H e ick~r, NiWJdtt. p. 76.
.l6 Nit ~ TIH WiN 10 Pw-.n:. p...90.
J 7 Ntetl.KDe.. Tilt Ct17 s~itn«, qoote~ Danlo, p. 147.
.l8 NieU~ TNt Will 10 PDtM'. p. +++.
39 Ileuieggc:r. NiG:J:Itt, p. 128.
+0 N;e~Bft' p.l96.
+1 Ntc:t.l.Kbc.~ B(ltlftJ G(I(X{ _,.,t & ·if, JJW p. JJO.
4! Nit~ BW p. 24J.
43 Niettscbt~ Tilt Will'" P()tM'. p. 435.
« Ni<tuchc~ T1H (;q Stirn::r, p. 282.
45 SC'C' Picrrt ~t,JC:hert)., A ~? pf Ul(rlfry P~if!n (l.c:Jndon. 1918),
PaJ1 1, Cor an intcrtstin~ paraUcl appro.ch. Sc.e algo P.ul& M m's
Jt:c.oonl tJf TIK llbrl: t{ TwwJy I" ,1f~M II( RrAJiJtt (New Havert.
1 979~
~li'4kf1.« h<, n.- Bml ifT,.r.M)·, RW ~ - 1.12.
47 !bOd., p. 61.

21i I
 10
11ze Name of the Father:
Sigmund Freud
If the aesthetic informs some of Karl Marx's most centr:al political
and ccooomic t:atl'JOOCS, it abo inliltratcs tho: psychoanalytical
doctrines of Sigmund Freud. Pleasure, play, drt3m, myth, scene,
symbo~ fiiJia>)', represmtalion: lhese are no longer to be conc..ived
of as supplcmenwy mam:rs, .esthetic adommerus to the proper
busineo;s of life, bur as l)ing at the very root of human existence, as
what Charles Levin loas c..U.:d '• lind of primiU.e subo.tanee of .uo::ial
process'. 1 Human life Is aesthetic for Freud in so far as h is all
about intense bodily sensations and baroque imaginings.. inherently
signmOIIOIJ' ond symbolic, inscpuablc from figure and fanta•)'. The
unconscious worka by a kind of 'aesthetic' IDgic, condensing and
displacing its images with the cr.tly opportunism of an artistic
brimlmr. An fur Freud is thus no privikg.:d realm, but is continuous
with the libidiDal processes which go to make up daily &fe. If it is
somehow peculiar, it is only because dtat daily life is itself etteedingly
siDllg.:. If the aesthetic has been promoted in idealist circles as a
form of sensuousness without desire, Frend will llllliWit the pious
naivety of this \iew as itself a libidinal yearning. The ~sthetic is what
we ~ br, but for a Freud as opposed to a Schiller, this is at least as
much catastrophe as triumph.
Niei2Sehe anticipated Freud's demysril}ing of aesthetic disinter·
cstcdness; but in one imponant respect Freud presses beyond lhe
Niem;che who oo strikingly prdigure< his lhougbt. Nlettschr's will to
power is unequivocally positi-re, and the artefaCIS which express it are
rcsonur with such a1limwioa. It is this virile vitalily, this phallic
repletion, which psychoanalysis 10ill un~rcur with lhe concept of
 nn:. NAME OF nn: FA"''Hl.R

dcslre. Desire insiluwes a lack at !he very bean of Ibis Nicaschean

robustness, slides into the wma negntivity or perversicy which renders
it DOn-identical with iasel[ Our powers hne so~~KtiUng etemally
dissati•lied about !hem, a motility and indeterminacy which causes
lbem to miss !he matk, go awry, swerve back upon themselves; there
Is a subtle flaw at the cen1re of power ...nlch cuts a shadow cm:r
Ni.ettsche's repressi1ie drive for health, sanily, integrily. It is because
our bodies are not poriously autOIIOIDOUS, as Nieasche tends to
imagine 1hem, but bound up in tbeir .-.·olurion wilh !be bodies of
others, that this trucherow faltering or deviating uf our impulses
come.• about. If Nietzschean power plumps the body full, Freudian
desire hollows it ouL Aod this will have ils elfects on our \iew of the
aestheric lUTefact, which for all Freud's own somewhat mdidon.allst
aesthetic notions can no longer dupe us as integnl, well-rounded,
symmcuical. Such au anefact is a covert trope of tile bmnanist
subject, which :ofter Freud can never be lhe same again. What he
implicitly interroglltes is the whole classical aesthetic heritage, from
Goetbe and SchiUer to Marx and Manhew Arnold, of the rich,
potent, serenely balanced subject.. On the contrary, Freud lll'g\les, our
drives are in comndicdon 'Wilh one anodler, our faculties in a slate of
permanent warfan, our fulfilments Deering and tllinted. The
iu:stbctic may be, for Freud as much as for Schiller, an itnapnary
C01150lodon, but it Is also abe detonator of profound discharges which
unmask the hwn111 >-vbjC<"I .. lissurtd and wtfinislu:d. The hwnaaist
dream offullness Is Itself a b'bldinal faniU)', .. Indeed Is !be whole of
traditional aesthetics. What that aesthetics yearns for is an object at
once sensuous and rule·bound, a body which is also a mind,
combining all !be delicious plenitude of!be senses with me autborily
ofan abstract decree. h is therefore a famasy of molher aDd falhcr in
one, nf lm-e and law commingled, an imAginary sp:u:e in which
pleasure-principle and n:ality-principlc fuse under the ••'Ps or lhc
former. To become at one witll abe aeslhedc repre&entation is to
recover for a lftasured moment that primary mrcissiSlic condition in
which objcct-liliclo and cgo-hoido cannot be riven apan. Freud
acknowledges in Citvis.Mn and iu Disanttmlr that psJChoanalysls has
had hardly an.)1bing significant to say about aesthetic beauty, ils
nature and oripn; but be is cemin (as how would Ill: Mt be?) !bat it
derives from 'the field of sexual feeling', as a libidinal impulse
inhibited in its aim, and concludes his somewhat bemused refkctioDS
263
 ~· ith a bme commcnr oo the unacs1hctic appearance of the male
genitals.'
'l'o relflte 11 6 eerhovt'fl sonnt.1 to the testicl e~;: io: hnnHy in the sryi( of
traditional ae$thetic5.. Freud sav.agtly ck:mysdhes culttae, tracking its
murky root~ 10 IJte tecesses o( dte uucot\..SCtous as rdentlessly i&S
,\ tarx.ism disc!oscs i1s conccaJcd source in histork't.l barberlsm..'\rt is
infn•lilt: anll•egn:ss.ive: a OI)()·JIWI'Otic fonn uf substirutc satisfaction;
incapable of 1.1 ban donin!l' a plr.~~surahl•· objctt, mt:n and wu•nt:n shifT
from toying -.;tit their faeces to tinkering with trombones. Worb of
llfl rt:~nbl e- dre.uns less thoul they do ;okes, aod the d oscsr thing 10
the sublime for Freud is the ridiculous. In a britf paper enridcd
'Hufu(lut:, be rtg<lftk buooour a& a lind of lriumph of n:arcissism,
whcrc:b)· the e-gn rdiJst:s fn he .Ji sl tt::i~ b~· dtt: rnu~:uatioiL'i. ut n:aJil)
in a ,·ictorious asserti<:ln of irs irmdJ1CJ'ability. Humour transmutes a
lhn:mming 14·orttl in1o :m nu.:a.•itun fu r ple:a.~llt'tj afKI hJ lhi!o cxJeltl il
resembles nothing as much as the classia~l sublime, which $imil11rfy
perollts us to rup rratifKation from our soenset of impcniousness ro
thr: H:m u-!1 armuu.l U:i. ' I'he hi~hcst has iL'l buSlt in tltt: lov.t :il, tu i1
gesture of Bak.hrinian rcvcrul which sbancr; tbc lying pretensions of
cuhur.tl ide-:Jiisru. ·na3t mno:t luAy u( all Romatalic caregories - ''is ion-
lies embarrassingly close to thost lowly libidinal $1.lb-tc.~xts we <.'l111
dreOlms. Idealist culture spuks th ~ bod)'• but rardy sreili ,, it,
urutbl~ •s it is ro r<lund upon its OW'O entbling coodiri nn~ Fnud will
usail this noble lie in IUs gravely sd c:ntihc, emJnently rcsj)('ctablc
mien, Jeaviug the ('Juttaged bourg:eoi! to dismiss him as no more than
a c:ntde rr..-lucrionist. If this is su, Lltr.tl il is J)IJu.liug why f reud
himself Yr.lS so deep in tr~d:itionaJ cuJMe, so edified and c nthrllled b)'
it. Or at le:t!)l it i!'> puzzling to 1husc .,..JUJ have JJ(Jllakeo the poiAI of
WiliWn Empson ~s 'lloist pasroral ~it_h thar 'the mo'i.t rt.~lint:d deoin:..,
are inherent tn the plaine5t, afHI woaiJ he ,lake il tluy :totmt'J. '.1
WhP.neYP.r an)'One Sfi-P.::lk."i. 'hadly hut nut ill' of h uma n bctnp. rc:ma1ksi
Kk tzsc'b(. defining them as a bd1)' wirh rwn n(:cds and a head with
one, then 'the lm-cr of l:nowl«lgt should listen eareil.JJI)' and wirh
diligCJ\Ce •:•
F'rend"o: other implki• :~.o;.:sault uu 1r:tdi1iun:al :u:lilltd i\:li ill to
d(( (oRStnW:I ia cnt(ial CT~~rion br.rwc:.;n ' culm«:' and 'c i\·il !\lK:it:ty'.
S<.andalo~,~:dy, he refuses to diffc~U~tialc culture and c-Mlizatioa, the
~]>hen: of \':iluc: ~JI(] 1.he re:ilit\ o( appetite. There iii no utiliu rian
~phc:n: which L" irmou:nt ur the libidinal! as LlteJt: is 11· 0 e ~o~Jtw;~.l
 nu; NAM£ OF nu; FAnuJl

value absolved from the aggressive drives by which civili«ation is

consl:riiCted. The bourgeois rests satlsfied in his purillll belief th2t
pleasure is one thing and .reality another; but Freud will come to
dcxOJUtroc-t the opposition belwcen these two mighty principles,
\klring the reality principle simply as a killd of detour or cwming zig-
zag by which the pleasure principle comes to achieve its goals. A
whole set of distinctions ,;tal to bourgeois ideoiOl!Y - between
enterprise and enjoyment, the pt'liCliaiJ and the pleo:rurable. sexoal and
commercial intercourse - are accordingly dismantltd.
l.lle traditioo21 •esthetic ideal is one of a unity of spirit and sen..,,
reason ond sponiRneity. The body, as we have seen. must be
judi£iously reinserted into a ratianal di>wurs~ which might othc.-..ioc
wither into despotism; but this opention must be corried out with •
minimum of disruption to that disc"""" itself. For such conventional
•esthetic theory, Freud is exceedingly bad news. For his lesson is that
the body is n""er quite at home in languoge, will never quite r..:m·er
from its tmllllalic insertion into it, escaping whole and enlire from
the mark of the signifier. Culrure and the body meet only m conflict;
tlu: scars which we bear are dte traces of our bruising inruption into
the symbolic order. l'sychoanolysis elWilines wlut takes place when
desire. is given tongue, comes to speech; but speech and desire can
never coruon amicably to~ther, as meaning and being ooatinually
displace one another; and if language. broadly conceived, is what
opcru up de$ire in the first place, desire is also what can bring it to
stammer and fa.il. If this is trUe of buUWl subjects, it is equally trUe of
the discourse of peychoonalysis itself, dealing as it does \\ith force<
which threatcn to play havuc with its O'loll thoort:tical coherence.
Desire is itself sublime, fiMlly defeating all representation: there is a
substrate in the unconscious which cannot be symbolized, even if it is
in some sense rumed rowards language, strives for upression, from
the outset.
It is precisely at this j\IIIC!Ure, between mute force and articulate
meaning, that Freudianism insUils its enquiry. It is born as a
discourse at the busy cross·rj)llds between the semantic and sDmatlc,
and aplorc:s their >lnmg1: invcrsio.,.: orpn as sigolfier, sigrtifier as
m.tt•rial practice. Meaning~~ for f1 reud are ceminly meanings, not the
mere imprint or reRex of the drives; but once this whole U!>.tUal
process is so to speak Dipped over, viewed throuch a different optic, it
can be read as nothing less than a mighty warring of somatic forces, a

265
 ~~uumlit.:lit:ltl in which Ihe bt)ll)· !tchir:ws, ur fa.ik~ rn a~;hiC\'C, SJl('CCh.
T he Freudian drivr,s lie somewhere (J:t the frontier 1:1<-lwtt-n the
ment.tl and the corpore.al, repres¢ntmg the body to th(: nUn~ wbere
WI! h:!Vt: :l drive, f~ "".! h.We (I demand pJ:l(fd Oro{he mind b)." Vinut'
of ics oonnecti()l'! "•:ith the bod)-. ·to clo<im th:1t we jha\IC ;ut
unco.uscious' is not tu designate-a b.iddt:J) art'.lt uf 1he sell, like an
invisible kidney or ghostl)' pancu:as, bu1 to !ipc:.dt of the W1J our
consciousness is distorted from the inside b) Lbe ~utl iuus u f ah~ hutly
U (NIO il.
This body, ho"'·e ,·er, is a1~·a)'S ror F~ud <1 fictional representation
rather thiln a brute matt rial fot<:l. Ou.ly by an intt:ne1Ung rtprt=sl!'nla·
tioo can rhe drh'tS prcsem them:seh·cs t<> C()nsdousncs:s, :md even i.n
the uooonstious au instinct must be ftptesented h!' att idc:.t. T\• hl•l4l
.,.·ith Fn:utl thal lhr: t:su is (:ss.:ntiafly a bucJil)' r:~o i'i ro dt~ i.m i1 as a
kind of artefact, a figurative projection oflht body, a p$-ychic mimc.sis
u(ils surf"att:~. 'fht: q,-t• i":. kimluf !'>h:tdu"'')' inner 'it:reen which pl :~ys
the newsreel ofthe body's romple.x history, in nored stosory oonr:ae1.s
aDd multiple duling:s ~ith the world. Prcud otnchors \he mind in the
bod)·, ·v ic~·to,; reasou as fuundt:d in \le:-.in: ':"itK.I lhirtkin~ a:. culwim:d
,.;t.h ~o~~·is hintr. bw this is not to S(C th~sc things as the mere cffllacs of
f.Ontc:thing uuiflljtt:<~d~:;~.hly MJ1id. fur l11at '"ulidily' is ib d f 3 J•:.)t:hic
..-onscn1n. as the ego build; op an imaf!C of th<' bod)· 'after the n·cm'.
so tt/$peak, re-ading it wifbjn a $)"mbolic schema as :a complex of needs
and imper:uives: r:uher th:m simply "rt>flecting' it Tbe r~la.tion
betwtcm C10 and body to that CX1cnt rcscmbks the Althusscrian
tc1a.tioo btlwoetn tbe01y aO\l hilllOI)', ...s ft~Wic j :.&utt"-SVn ha"
de:.t:rihr.tl if:

~iu1.:t: fur Ahhu:s.o;a rt:al iaisturit:al !i.nte jo; nnly imlira:tly

l'lcccssiblc to u;, acrion ((It him \I.'Ould seem to b<- a kind of
blindfolded opcratio:t, a manipulation at distance, in which
we L"'ttuld :il h-e.st w:m:h uur own pt:rli•rtn:~.nt.•e indirec!ly, 3:>
though in ., mirror, ~:ad ing it lw;k from the Y11rious
f(".tdiustment! or COn.K'iOtls..ne.u wf:aJch rtsuh from the:
alteration in the. external situation itself."

If 1hc:: mJtlc child <ruds' the fc.m~k body as li'cldng. ir is a reading

lauoclWd within tht law of castnbon, under tbe aegis of the ! ignifier.
not simp!) :tll~:mpiri(;a) ptrteytiuu. Tu a:ndtur 1he m ind mlhe body is

266
thus to lend it no sea.>re foundation: indeed there is something
elusive aDd unlocatable about the body which. as Paul Ricoeur has
argued, makes it the most appropriate image of the unc:oo.clous:

When q~d how it is possible for a meaning to cml

wilhout being consclous, the pbeno~mnologiu repDeo: II!
mod.e of being is thai of the body, which is neither ego nor
thillg of the~ lbe phcaornenoloJist is Dot saying that
the Freudi:m unconscious is the bod); be is simply saying
that the mode o( being of the body, ocithcr n:pn:scntalion
in me nor thillg outside of me, is the cmtic model for oey
conctiwble uncon.scious.6

It would be a mistake to equate the ego with W subject, since

the drives - as in nan:issism or masochism - can just as t11sily veer
round upon it to make it their objCC'I. 'lbe dmes are not in
pbenummologiral Jl'lrbnce 'intentional', de(lllOd by th.ir object;
objects for Freud are coolingeat and acbangeable, mere cphemcnl
targets for instincts whose aim predolllin2tes over !heir end. Subject
and obj«t, as for Nietzsche, are passing products of th. play of the
~s; :md what optns llp the subject/object duality in the first place
is the deeper dialectic of pleasure and unpleasure, introjection and
expulsion, as the CJIO separates certain bits of the world from itself
and masticalt$ certain otben, rhus building up thMe primordial
identifications of which it is a kind ofstorehouse orcemttery. lfthis is
so, then Freud lilc Nietzsche dcconsuucts at a stroke the whole
problematic "'ithin which traditional aesthetics moves - that of the
encounter between self-identical subject and stable obj«t, ...&OR
mutual estrangement may be wondrowly transcended in the act of
lasle. It is not a question of rescuing the sobj«t for a prtciolls
moment from its alienation; tO be a subjccl is 10 be alienated anyway,
renderecl eccentric to oneself I'! the movement of desire. And if
objects maner at all, they matter precisely in the place where they are
absent. The dcared object, u J uliet Mitchell has argued in Lacani111
vein, COIIWI into existence"' 1111 lll;m only when it is lost to the baby
or ·infant.' It is when tlurt ob;ect is - - d or prollibited that it lays
down the tnce of d<:sft, so that its secure possession will abrays
move under the sicn of loss, its presence wuped and overshadowed
by tbe perpetual possibility of its absence. It is just this unnenoing
U7
vacuity ar me !lean of me object, this permanent esrrangeability
which permeatAos its every aspect, which the class~ aesthelic
represen12don is out m repress in its fedsbiud organici<m.
Freud's thousbt. then, is in one sense wlmlly 'a<:sthclic', all to do
with me lheatre ofsensational life. If it is the motions of pleasure. and
unpl.,...ure which briDg an objective world about in the ftr.;t place,
then all of our noa-aesthetic relalions wilh that world will continue to
be S41urated with this origiruuy hedonism. Yet this hedonism, bound
up as it is with egoism ll!ld murderous aggressi¥ity, has lost all of the
innocuousness of cludcal aesthetic pleasure, "'hich was a respite
from such base impulses l'lllher than a product of them. Freud
retuniS to this harmJI;ssly defused pleasure ils hanb unplcasurability,
its ranoour, sadism and malice, its negativity and perversily. 'lne
aesthetic ottitude, he believ.s, moy compenso~ for the suiTerings of
enstence, but C311llot protect us from them; if the aesthetic is
conotioed of as plenitude and equipoise, as a wealth of fulfilled
powers, then few thiltlr.ers since Jonathan Swift have been 1110re
sceptical of •uch an idW. The pl~re principle dominalu the
mental apparatus from start to finish, and yet is at loggerheads with
the whole world; there is not the least possibility of ils programme
being carried through, for the intention thar hwnanity &bould be
lappy was omined from the plan of creation. Freud's bleak
Hobbesian view of human society forbids him from cnvisaginJ it as a
potentiaDy nourishing space, or from imagining monliry as enw>eip-
atoty rather than oppressive; ll!ld he is thus as far as Hobbes himself
from the vision of a Sluftesbury, Schiller or Marx, of a social order in
which the realizalioo of human capacities could become a dclighlful
end in itself. In this sense he is a radical anti-aesthelician, with scant
sympathy, in the words of Paul Ricoeur, 'for what might be descmcd
as an esthetic wortd view'.' Or perhaps it might be llliDre nccurnte to
dlaractcrize Frelld as 1 tbinlter who, while inheriliug something of
that great ride of aesthcriciling thoupt whlch we h..e fcllow.:d
throughout the ninc~cnth centwy, reccin:s this legacy in deeply
pessimistic spirlr. as a heritagl: I!OOC sour. There can be uo retwuinJ
to purely raliooalist eoo<:epts, for the aesthetic has done its soln·en!ive
work; bUI there can be little hope or joy in this aestheticiling
aJ~mative either, for a Freud as opposed to a Nie~ZKhe or a
Heldegger.lfFreud remains a rationalist, though lilte Swift one with
a profound suspicion of reason, il is among other reasons because he
268
 Tift NAM[ OF TH£ FATHER

is dry-eyed and lwd-headtd enough to acknowledge the odinu.•

coroUaries of that be2dy celebntion of instinct, inlllition DJid
spontaneity of which me aesthcticizing lineage, at its most allow, ·
must sttnd convicted. It was, indeed, one particular hi.rorical
tenninus of such thousbt which drove him into exiiC:.

There is a <tory, which Fret1d might have awrecioted, of M051:s

descending Mount SiMi v.ilh the tablcu of lhc law under his ann.
'I''"' gOt !hem down to ten·, be shoutS to the assembled Jsr.uolites, 'but
adulrer:y's still in.'
Freud regarded the law as one of his oldest enemies, DJid much of
his therapeutic project is de"'l!ed towards tempering its sadistic
bruU!ity, which plunges men and women luto madness and despair.
The law for Freud is not of course ""!Y an enemy, since in his view to
(aJJ outside its >-wwy i> to fall sick; but it has an intemperate violenc.:
!hat must. be countered. This law or superego, 011 at least one of
Freud's accounts, is simply a ditl'erentiatiun of the id, whereby some
of the voracious energy of the Iauer is channelled and dmncd into a
remorseless ¥iolcnce agoinst the ego. The st~perego has its origin in
what Freud describes in '111< Ego Mil tlrt 14 as an individual's first and
most imponant Identification, !hat with the father of his or hu 01>'0
personal prehistory.• As a result of this identification, which is prior to
any objc:U-CIIhc:xis, one pan of tlu; ego is ..:t O'ier against the other, to
becd111e moral idul, voice of conscience and CctlSOrious judge. The
superego is born of a sptittinr of the ego induced by the action of the
id upon it. As an inttmalization of the parental problbidon, the
Sllpercgo is the heir to the (),dipus complex, • kind of hangover of
this lurid dratllll; indeed it plays a decisive role in !be repression of the
complex, •• the male child's hostility to the father modulates into an
identification with his symbolic rok. The superego is thus a residue
of the earliest objcct-choic:t$ of the ld; but it also n:pruents wbat
Freud calls. au 'energetic reaction-forrn:atbt' 3g:tinst those choices.,
and so springs 10 binh under the sign of oootradiction. Exhoning the
child to be lW: il> father on the om: band, it bans it from some of the
father's mosr eDViable activities on the other. The "'lJ>ereSO is thus a
kind of aporia or irnpossibilil)l, a conundrum or double-bind ~
COIDJIWJdmL'llts arc incopo~blc of being obeyed.'" Since it is the heir to
the Oedipus complex, it is therefore, as Freud argues, 'also the
expression of the most powerful impulses and most imponant

269
tibidinal 'Vicissitudes of the id', 11 closer to the unconscious than is th<
ego. In lhe act of mastering lhe Oedipus complex, then, the ego
succeeds in handing itself subllliukely mer to the id, or .,.,... e:ucdy
to !hat representative of the id which me superego signifies.
All of this lends the law a frifhtcniDg power. The superego Is as
forceful as it i.< beau.<e it is the consequence of me fiut idenri6ation,
which twk plaoc when the cpJ ia.clf wu still feeble; and bccaU3C it
sprlnp out of lhe Ocdipllli complex it 'has thus inlroduced lhc most
momentous objects into tbe ego'." It is the source of all idealism, btot
also of all our suiJt; it is at once hi&b priest and poticc agent, positive
and neg:ukoe, lhe image of the desirable md the promulpmr of
lllboos and prohibitions. As lhe voice of conscience it has its root in
the cas~nlion thn:at, md is responsible for all our self-odium and
self-scourging, of which Freud drily reJJI2fla< that the 'noml21 m2n' is
not ooly for more iuunor•l, but for more moral, than he knows. This
ine:rrorable Jaw directS what Freud calls an 'emaordlnaty barslllless
and severity' upon the timorous ego, r:ogi.ng •g:oinst it with merciless
\'iolcncc; and in the condition of melancholia, or acute depression,
this lialence can result in 1he ego's c:xtinCiion by silicide." It is in
these circumstances in particular thai some of the feroci.ous energy or
the supt:rcgo can be UiliDllSkcd for what it is - u nothing less, so
Freud comments, than 'a pure culture oflhe death iDstiDct', which it
has aught up and turned to its own predatory purposes.
The superego is not only self-contradictol)', but in a cmuin sense
self·undoq. Freud posiJs in lwman beings both • primary nardsslsm
and a primary aggresslver>e$5; and th• consrrucrion of civaization
in-rolves a sublimation of both, directing them outwards to higher
goals. Pan ofour primary aggtesSivenessl.< thus divemd fmm the ego
and fused with Errn, builder of dries, to dominate Nature and create
a culrure. The dealh drive, wbk:h luru within our aggresstrity, is thus
tricked out ofits nefarious intentions :and hamt.SSed to tbe business of
cstablishin~ a social order. But this so.ial order innitably entails a
renunciation of instinctual aradficalion; so that part of our argressive·
~ is dm·en bock upon the ego to be<:ome the •genq of the
superego, source of the law, morality and idealism essential to the
operations of society. The paradox, lhen, is tbatlhe more civilized we
become, the more we tear ourselves apart '1\M guilt •nd internal
aggression. Every renunciation of instin•"tual satisfaction strengthens
the authority of lhe superego, intensifies i1S brutality and so deepens

270
 TilE NAME OF l1lE fAlllEI

our gllilt. ~more admirably idealist we grow, the more we !llake up

wlthln ourselves a culrure of lethal self-batted. Moreover, the more
...., direct ourwuds part of our narcissls1ic libido for dle COOSINCiion
of miDzatioa, the mure depleted we leave its intcmal resouJttS, to
beaJme a prey ro Eros's old ~ 1lum4l1Js or the dead! clrive.
ldealilianion wid! d!c fadler in>Oives a sublimation, and so •
desenWJzadon, of our erode dmu, which in Freud's !llrinsent
ecooomy of the unconsciOU$ leaves them fatally de~ and so all dle
Jus capable of holdiag out agaillst their great anmgoaist.
It is in 1his sense that ci'filir.arion for Jl'reud 11 pecullarly self·
thwaning. The >Upm:go is a deeply ambi..Uent formation, at once
upresslve of dle ld and a reaction-formation againsl it, dcminJ from
the tlltr8)' of the Oedipus complex yot turning: bad: repressillely
apiDst IL In a grim irony, it harnesses somcdling of the id's own
rabidly a:mor31 IOrces to a campaign for social ideali•m and mont
purity. To light the id, to repress insdn<1, is to btxome aD the more
wlner:able to its desii'UCtiveaesa in a differcat guise; so d!atlhe ego is
caught up from lhe outset in -lhiag of a mug's game, hedged
round on aD sidea by mom! enemies, pulling off what poor barpins it
can between them. The internal complexity oflhe superego, bown-er,
extends funher stilL For if it is at one level the product of an
introje.:ted external authority, it is at another level caught up wllh the
ego's own primary •i~P">'iveness towards itself - with that lethal
masochism which Freud came to see in his later work as more
fundamental !han sadism. As. I"rood puts it. 'The sadistn of the super-
ego and the masochism of the ego supplemeat each olher and unite to
produce the same effect•.'" If the superego is thus a pecuiWty
ovcrdctcrmiacd phcnomcDOD, it is so in another seose too. For lhe
hosdlity which it unleashes \1])011 lhe eao Is at Ollce that of the
introjected pGirenW function, and the child's own ogg:ressive reaction
. to this ageucy. It is ., though the child hijacks somcdlinr or lhe
pan:nl's severity, fuses it .,;th i1s own boslile rcacdoft to such
hushness, and tums both against its o..,. ego. As Leo Bersani has put
it: 'The child will iugeaiously identify with that (parcnral] authority,
not in order to continue its punishments in~~:mally, but ralher in
order to safely possess it, on the inside, as the object or victim of its
own •111• eulte lmpulses.'" The superego, in short, bas aD the
U!ngefulness whlch the child would like to direct apinst the punitive
father; 'lhe curoing of oggressioeness', as Bcrsani comments, 'offers

271
the only rulistic stntegy for sarisi}'ing .ggressiveness.'" The
supmgo tbus rep"'senrs a iind of contndicliun berween past and
present, infantilism and maturity: at the very moment that it shows ou
the !Uth towards an ideal humanity, it pulls liS in.e~o~bly back into
childhood. 'Through the institutionalisarion of the sup<!tego', writes
Norman 0. Brown, 'the parents arc intcmalised and man linally
succeeds"in becoming father of himself; bot at the cost of becoming
his own cbild and keeping his ego infantile.'"
Freud's most subvenive move, lllroughout the wbok of this
discourse, ism reveal the law itself as grounded in desire. The law i.s
nu mon: than a modality or differentiation of the id; and it c:au
therefore no I~ be a mmer, as with ttaditional idet.llst thought, of
envisaging a transcenclenml order of authority un.<athed by h"bidinal
impubc. On the contnuy, this eminently rational power S!ands
111111Wled in Freud's writing as imtional 10 the point of insanity- as
cruel, venS"ful, vindictive, malicious, vn.in and paranoid in irs
authority, madly cxccsoivc in ill tyra1111ical demands. Like the political
!ltate in the eyes of ManOsm, the law "-ould appear auguatly
rranwen<knllll but is in f.1ct t he sublimotion.o.f appetite, 'interested' to
itl rooo while p rcscn iog a facade of impartial judiciousness. It is •old
of aU realism, obtw;ely blind to what the ego misht reasonably endun:
and what injunctions are simply beyond its fragile ~· 'Kant',
writes Paul Ricwur, 'spoke of the patJwlosy of desire; Freud speaks
of the patbolo@y of duty.'" Indeed Freud remarks c.qllic:idy in 'The
Economic Problem of ~wochism' that tht Kantian catr:gorical
imperative is the direct heir of the Oedipus complex. Tbe law is 1
form of !Ugh-minded terrorism, which Uke the Mosaic code in the
judgement of St Poul will men:ly illurninote how far short of it we
hove faUen, instruct us in what to avoid bot give us no pedagugkal aid
in bow m achieve the ideals it bnndisbes before us. As far as the
prohibitory aspeas of the superego are concerned, Freud would no
doubt have S}mpathized ..;th W. H. Auden.'s crttk about the
U$ClcSiness of a moral law which simply obse!ves human natu:e 011d
then ii!Serts a 'Not'. Monlily as we hate it Is a condition ofpei'IIW!ent
self-afimotion; every human subject is colonized by a foreign master,
a filih colwnnist within the self.
The Freudian super•!!" thus corresponds to that form of polltkal
coercion which we have contnosted in this study with the concept of
hegemony. It represents that absolutist, crudely I!Deducatl\-e Reason
272
 THE NAME OF THE FATHl:R

which foro Schiller wns in dire need of some sens110t1s tempering. It

is a form of potitical powet appropriate to the 1111dm riginu, an
imperious ruler with no regard t<> the feeling.< and c2paciries of his
subjects. The superego, as Freud remms, 'docs rwt trouble itsclf
enough about the facts of tbe mental constitution of human beings. It
issues a command and does not ask whether it is possible for .People
tu obey it.'19 It has aU the arr011am:C of power but none of its
crafiinc!s, berd of aU sttarO!ic sense and psychological insight. The
question, then, is huw this uncuuth despotism is tu become
hegemonized; and we sh.all see in a moment what answer Freud gives
to this problem.
Meanwhile, it is worth noting that the f..:t that power bas iis ba.is
in desire deUvero an 1mbivalent poliric21 message. 1'here is nn doubt,
to begin with, that it is this wltich ronders the Freudian law as potent
as .i t is. One I'C250il why repressive political regimes are as tenacious
and refractory as they are would he in F...,ud's view because they are
secretly fueUed by implacable desire, characterized by aU the purblind
recalcitrance of the unconsclou<. And this i< doobdess one reason
amoog severn! why they are :w diff..:ult to dislodge. A power structure
held together by ncthing but rational consensus or conscious
manipulation would he far easier to ropple.lfFreud is to be betieved,
late a~pitali.st socil:ty swtains its rule not only by police fon:es and
ideological appanruses, but by r.dding the resources of the death
drive, the Oedipus complex and primary agressi\11)'. On this theory,
it is because such regimes are able to tap into the veey cnc:rgies
invdved in the turbulent coosdrution of the human subject lhat they
appear at times to have aU the obdurate resistance to upb.,..,·al of a
mounllln range. The forces wbleb SIIS!Iln audlorlty, in shon, are
comJ"'lsive and pathological, and " 'ill resist transfolllllltion as
stubbornly as an analysand will repeat rather than remember.
Cmlization reprodu~ itself by cornering the cu""nts of the id in
or<.kr to oudlanl it, flexing those drives back upon themselves
through the relay of 1 portion of the ego in a repression every bit as
intemperate as the Hfe of the nnco~• Itself.
That desire and the law ore bedfellows as much as sworn foes C1ID
he formulated in a number of ways. The law, u""' have oeen, is Itself
desirous; It ..,.. lhrouP the bw, in the shape of the originary
probibition, tluot desire came into the world; and it is in the nature of
taboos to intensify the longing's they forbid, exciting tbe vel)'
273
 concupiS<:(ncc they &()Wn on. T his recognition, of the mutual
imbrication ofbw 3nd desire, h-35 scn<d in our own time ro fic:;cnsc a
cenain frtshion::~ble potiric.1l pessimism; and ir is strrf.'ly a ue th<lf no
mere cxpression/r<prcssioo model. of the kb d adopted .;ar te:ast io
part L:oo Mun, com sun;in: the Frt -udia.n ae<:uufd uust.'allu:i.l. If t1tt: law
and desire arc bom at 11 stroke, then then: c-an be no q11t stioo of
positing ao imrir.sic.ally ct-e:.ath e destte which ls o.erelr li LiO~d in its
t;:~rt.:s;i\.·cn es:; hy a rc:cakilT!tnr cx:h:mal pm1,;rr. Hu1 it i:; als•t(H.•:.s\t'llr.
to ' 'itw this grim c.cmdition from another angle. If the law really "'t're
tf'.utS(tndentaUy disinterested, thco the polittcsl left would most
rertainly bt' in ttoobJr. '1'hat the lslw is 001, idec:Jogic9ll)' speaiJn, ,
how it would like to prcsen1 itself is <lt once political obst~clc ~ud
OllJ)(utunit)·. Jf its gruw1diu.( iulk."'>ire is what deepttt.s its \'iruJence, il
is aho what renders it precari-:>us and problematic. as a gcnuinc!y
tf':ttN.l !llllent:tl :tut hurily w•ml•l nut he. Martell hy tht: sie., nf
castration, con<taJing its lack bent:ruh lts logocentrism.• the Jaw has
sonlCth.ing Q( d)( Wstabilny of the uncoRScious as well ~ of m
J ri\·t:nne.-.:.. T he \'t:r)' t!ltu::i.' ufi L"' .-.c:aJ ;:, lltt: d ein!.. iu it:. urnttmr - 11 1~
QnJy b(causc it signifies the ~ruh authorituiani$11\ 6f the insecure.
b ut b~: caus e it iu"Yoh·~s the bv. in a t:ta!oeles!: sdf~uJtc.loiog, arouflii..g
t_~ )'t;;~ m ings ic intcrc:licts, s:prcad in~ h:r.·o<' in (he• nam<: r.•f c::n~ati ng
order. The law is I)Ot of h.a:nd, .and if its deere($ become
ins uppom~l:t l e. rh.en ir J e~wes its \o'1.:;rim s with no r:hnice hut tn r,.,n ill l) f
neurosis or to rrbeJ. Doth ooursu of action h..t''( 1heir ambiguous
pains aod pleasures.. It w:as such rebellioo which rrcud ~d in mind
when he: wmtc in '1'1to.• Fimm: 11}.. an llb•.titm tlutl if' a ~It.i el y filib tu
d(vtlop bC)'ortd the point where the satisfaction of a minority depends
upnn cht! o; uprr~si.m uf tl"~ rn:tjurity, il 'n e ilh~ ! ~~~ nur d~cn·~ the
pJOSp(<'t of a lasting <'xistcnc(>.K• (n such coo<lirions. Fn:u<l P.dd;,, (lnt'
c.a.nnot C.II])'C'Gt 1n internalization of cultural prvhibitic-ns to t.ake pbce
:trnong the urpreo:sed - which i!> 10 <::1)' th:u pnlitn::!l puwer wuuld
CC11.5Ct () be hcg.:.mooic.

)fthere is a.mbh·~I~nce in the law. a similar doubltocss ""'" be seen

to lie-on the side of tbos.t. who languish beneath its "''o\y, The re.al
t':'fif:ITIYnf rh ~ pulirit:a.l rad k":ll ~ It:!>..._ the mt:g:~-clullu lh:w nt.a~JC:hisua
- the rondirion in which we (.0~ tn l(l\'C and d~ir<: rtn: law ie,;df. If
the Superego stems from an intrOjCCti(IR ;,(the fathct, then it bears
wiLbin ilthe t:hild'~ kl"e lin LhaL fallaer a~ much '.iiS its E'IHnity. fl'eud
amnc:.;ro; 1hc cv:u'!; rlcl>-irc for punishment v.ith the wi.-.h lube heall::l
 'I1IE NMIE OP 'Ill£ FATHEil

by the father," an 'crot~c' maso<hism which joins with our

'mor.~l' m.uoehism. This psychical STl1te is .. deep-seared :as it is
because trndem.SS and respect for authority are part of the earliest
manlfemdons of love, prior ro the emergen~ of sexuaUry itself. 'By
nature (that is, originally)', writes Phaip Rieff, 1ove is authoritarian;
sexuality - like Ubeny - is a later achievement, always in danger of
being overwhelm.ed by our deeper inclin2ri.ons towards submissive-
ness and domination.'" Indeed Leo Benani goes so far as to find in
masochism the VCIY 'essen~· of sewaliry, whose weD-nigh sluaering
effects oo the ego would be unendur.able without such perverse
palification." Jean Laplanche, similarly, spe2b of'lbe priviiCJCd role
of masochism in human sexuality'." Yet there Is no 1oYe 'olithout
ambivalence, and Ibis respect for privileged figures is opposed in the
unconscious by intensely hostile feelinss rowuds them. Our sense of
dependency on other:>, after all, is bound tn wound our narcissistic
l'antasies of omnipotence, the consoling cn:ed that we spnng fuDy
llcdged fro111 o11r 01\'11 loins. If the self craves iJs own confu!cment,
theo, i.t also re:aps delight from seeing its gaolers brought low- -n if
the result of this, in an unccasinr dialectic, is guilt, further
sublllissi¥eness, and )'et 1110re pleawrc in dethroning the despot.
The Freudian con,'tption of law and desire wooJd thus seem to
defeat trlldilioD21 political notions of coerclon and hegemony. As a
kind nf absolutist monarch, the tyrannkal superego is so crueDy
unrelenling that one would ~ct it inCYitably to instigate rerolt. But
"-bar lll2kes it aa implacable .. It is - Its Intimacy with the id - is
exacdy what binds us libidinaUy to it, llnos tiglnerun, ils pip. In a
strilinr pan~dox, what sustains the law's coerciveness is cxacdy what
secures its hcremony. 1\s Freud atgueS about social conllict, 'the
suppressed classes can be emotionally attached to their masters; in
spite of their hoslility to them they m.ty see in them lbelr ideals;
unless such relations of a fundamentally satisfying lUnd subsisted, it
would be impossible to underswrd bow a DIIDiber ofcMllzalions han
survived 10 long in spite of the jliSiiliable hostility of brge human
masses.'" The rnnsition which Freud outlines, from an external
parental agency Ill that introjection of it which is the IN(lCrego, is
parallel U> the political shifi from obsolurism to hegemony, where the
laner is un~rstood as on internalization of the law as the principle of
one's O»u bein(. Yct iD Fn:ud's scenario this tnnsition would hardly
seem to ~empcr the law's rigours at all; on the conlrlltY, as he remarks

275
in CiuiW.UUm and iu Di!ane.tmts, it ushers ln a stare of 'permanent
internal unhoppiness', as we eagerly <Oilude in our own mise.y. We
renouru:e a heteronomous aulhority for fear of its violenee; bur we
then instaU it securely inside us. and renounce instiocrual gratification
for fear of it In one sense, Ibis signifies an e>en decpt:r subjection; fur
this lntenul conscience, unlike the actual falher, is omniscient, knows
our faintest unconscious wishes, and wiU discipline us for these as
well as for our actual conduct. Moreover, unlik<' any roasonablc
father, it punishes us the more we obey iL If we refrain from
aggression, it simply takes over this bit of un:u:ted violence and toms
it against us. We do indeed, in hegemonic fashion, take pleasuu in the
law; but this deepens its despotism radler lhan rendc:n its burdens
5\\'eet.
In Toltffl •rrd Taboo, Freud offers • phylogenetic account of the
traDSition from coercion to hegemony, to match Ibis ontorcnctic ooe.
Civiliz.uion c:IIUlot be properly founded until the arbitrary will of the.
patriarchal despot is curtailed; and this is achieved by his death at the
hands of the lribal horde of sons, who gr..: the law to thcnudvcs and
thus estahlim the bonds of commani1y. Coercion rtmains, both in the
form of the internalized dead fa !her ond in the necessity of work; an
societies, Freud comments in Manim vein, have at root an ecooomic
motive.'• But if one of the ruUng forces of socW llfe is AM..U
(necessity or coercion), the other is Em, which is a mauer of
bcgetn011y. £m lets u the cement of social relations, rendering them
libidinally gratifying ..,d"" providing the 'usthedc' as opposed t<> the
ob;ec:tnely material foundation of social unity. Civaization, Freud
writes,

aims at binding the members oftbc community together in

1 libidinal way u wen aad employs every me.ns to
that end. It fat101m every path by which strOll! identllica·
tions can be establt,hod between the members of the
conununity, and"" it summons up aim-inhibited libido on
the largest ~e !!0 as to strengthen lhe communal bnnds
by relations of friendship. In order for the.se aims to be
fullilied, a restriction upon sexual life is urm·oidablc."

If this is what sustains society, however, it is alsu the nub uf the

problem. For sexual desft and aggressiveness will conftict with these
276
 THE NAME OF THE FATHER

social goals; clviliulion will threaten ltr•e; and the more Eros is
sublimated to these worthy ends, the more vulnerable it becomes to
Tluznmos. Ollly a minority of men and women will be capable of
efl'ectiw: sublimation; the masses, for Freud as lar Burke, must mate
do with the coerced sublimation of manual work, which is never nry
effective. Sublimination would seem !he only path by which th.e
claims of lhe ego can be met "ithout repression - but it is a
pr001rious, unsatisfactory alTair. The proces.• of hegemony, in short,
I! both panial and self-undoing: what balds society together is just
wlur i< in danger of tearing it apan.
Con>tntiooal aesthetic thought, as we ba.e seen, imagines the
introj<:etion of a tniJl;Ccndcntal law by th<: desiring subject. Ft<ud's
docai.ne, however, deeply compliatts this paradigm: for bod! terms
in the equation ace now di'ided, ambiguous. unstable, mutuaDy
parasitic. It iJ DO longer a question of imprinting a benignant law
upon 'sensibility', but of bringing to bear an impossibly self-
contradictory power on a body which is il5elf hollowed and dirided.
We lave seen that the apparently augwt law is not quite what it
owears to be; but we must also recognize that desire itself; which
SCCDI$ so much mare personal and immediate than the law's
anonymous decrees, Is itself a kind of impersonal force.

Ocsin:, inJacques LM:an's fanwus slogan, is the desire of the Other.

To desire another is to desire what that otber desires, since this desire
is of tlte other's 'essence', and only by idenlif}ing with ir can we
therefore become one with the other. This is a paradoxical claim,
howaoer, since desire, which splits and dlspcraes the subject, Is no
kind of ess«RL-e at aU; so dtat to desire the other's desire is to be as
extrinsic to them as they are to lhcmselvcs, t-.ught up in the process
of their own d«ctttMment. Desire nevu hits its t.VJet: it becomes
entangled in the other's laclr. and """"' off beyond them. Desire
curves arOWld the body of the other to rejoin iaelf, now doubly
lacklng since it has redupHcoted its own yearning in the yearning of
the other. To identify with the other is to merge with what they lack,
and thus in a sense to identify with nothing.
The child does not dedre the mother, but derires wlw she derires,
or at least what it imagines her to desire, which i.• the imaginary
plenitude ir desires. In striving to figure this plenitude for the mother,
to represent fos her !he 1tnasiJWY pballus, the child discover> that it

277
cannot soc:ceed - that the mother's desire swerves away beyond th.e
child and outward¥. It is not the child that wullll:n dc.irl:. It io d&iJ
r«osnirion which intrOduces lack into the. clu1d, reduplicating the
l:u:k of the molher; the child Jocks becausoe wb:u the modler lacks is
IIQI him. The intcncntion of thc-casttlting law or Name of the Father
then coDVUtS the child's Jack fmm a specific one - his inadequ.cy ou-
ti-tis the mother- to a senerat one: with the repression of desire into
the unconsdous the c:hild is now lacking not just in a particulu way
but in general, in exc:es.• ofall particular objects. The cuttinr stroke of
the law genenlizes the child's lack to the very basis of iss being.
Plunged into Oedipal crisis, the cbi1d may not be able to name his
lade, but he can at least misruuoe it. lfthe mother does not desire him,
it mwn be because sh<: dcsirts the father. B,.t women do not desire
the man, any more: than they de.<ire the child. The woman desires nat
the penis but the phaUus, "•hich is to say her own imaginary
wholeness. But the phallus is an irnpostun: which docs not exist, other
tlw! as an ideological figment. Having vainly sougbt for it in the
mather's body, the child imagines that the father must po.sess it
instead. In doing so, he m)'Siifies the law 10 aa iJnasitwy plcnitud~
and seeks to identify with this instead as the path to his own
fuUilment. The 100tber may be c;o;tnlted, but surely the law cannot
be. Perllaps the fetish of the law will block off the Krriblc knowledge
of castration. Bot the law, 100, is an Ideological figment, and is mad
with the same desire as the child. If the child misrecognizes the law,
the law equally Dlisrecogni%es the child; for lhc child's desire is not
exactly for lhe mother, but lOr the completion sbe symboli?.es, for lhe
imapuary phallus it ddudcdly locates in ho:r body. None of these
individuals desire each other in the least; It's nothing personal. Desire
is plAn:ly impersonal, a process or networt without end or origin in
whic:h aU three protagonists arc causht up, yet which SKmS from none
of them and ha.s none of them as its goal. The three bodies in !his
scenario desire past each otller aD tile time, com·erging only in the
field ofthe Other. The child plugs into the mothc:<'s desire in lhc vain
hope tlw it too might thereby IUICO>'er the phallus it imasin'-"' h<r to
want. If lhc ~hild cannot be the phallu! fi>r her, It can ar lea.u join her
ill the ceaseless punuit of it, thus Slll)int: with her in one sensoe while
alwldonlnr her in another. An identification with the ID(Itber's desire
is one which leads the child beyond her, separates it from her. lbc
child rides out beyond the mother on the current of her own desire.
278
 The one I kJ...,t m;~.y nol be abk: to give me the imaginary plenitude I
sed:.. but s.he can at lcas.t ~\'C me the moSt real thl.ng she has, namely
her own desire for the same plenitude. We give ead!. other OW' desire,
whkh is tn ~ e":KIIy Ihat whil:h nt:1lher uf a.; t::m fulfil m the ulhcr.
To sa)' ' I love you' tbm become>; cquh-'1knt lO sayint •rt•s )'iiU who
can~f sa~· me!' I low priviJcgcd and unique I must be, ro remind you
that it isn'l me you w11m . . .

I)c:s.irt: i t~U~ tht:Ol v.ould :>t't ln t\1 Ol)t'rutt itt SQ(UCthing or au

anonymoe.•s. latl·-lit:e mann('.f~ and thi; fil nher e{lmplicate~ tht:
c:la.ssi¢a) aesthetic modtl, where desire is rcncnlly conceived of in
u:nns u( individu:tl ru:.=tfo; rw wi.slu:s. The tnu h is th:ll F'rcLMJ rtjt:t:l,. :.11
notion of a 1Stlcccssf\ll' icnrolecrion of the bw, aod this is one of his
most radic.al cballengcs to the tradition ofthourht we haTe examined.
lc is: m~t•, thnr h e speaks of :1 rinal {l:is')(llnrion nf thfl' O~dipu!<> <.'(lmplex;
but it is do:.abtful how accurate such a e:laim is t~> somt of his O'I\'D
OH)S t troubling insights. The ego wiU oevcr emircly make the
$nperegn if!.;; own; ir u<ill ~ cmhrfliled lnswcad in a constaru series of
f,ari.suiog rndc·offs or tactical negotiati011s between these: idC<tJs and
uh'it:S:- :md tht: h:trsh rr.:.luy (uf huth id :tnd t:Xlt:rn:tl wufitl} whiL-h
lhe)· c<un!I'Opbically faiJ ro rak:t inro ae<ouru. The polilica.l implicaOOns
of this arc orKe more ambivllent. If Freud is. right, then ~ c~ n uy
~odbye to all ~o:if:liliry of 1.1 topil. The n~th r:! tic idt!al uf;1 hemo,'Tll:aw
tUOy intemaliud and appropriated as rhe grOtmd of human frttdom
is an dtusioo. For one thing, the b.w is not in Freud-'s eyes btnigni .1nd
li•r snutht:r thin~ suda:opnnhtnt:UU'i Uftprupriatiun is lurcs! aUctl l~· uur
profoundly ambivalent r.:sponsc to it. At th¢ same time, n~·C\-u, we
c:u·1 §ay gt~odhyt: tolht: tlyP>tupd.n vi!iiillll uf:t •1otal' StiCial urc.ler "hid1
will hA\'C ._.n_ouy incorponltcd i1s members.. idcntil)·ing- their desires
U'ltirely with its rule. Such a prospect remembers cml)• our
ma~nchisti<: lun.: fur the: l::.w:-11111 nur o;muultk:ri11~ h:ttn:tl uf il. The
1aw is what brinp desire inco bclng-. but that desire oonst;~nt\y ofTc.-rs
to ouh'un and di&rupt it, and the lack which the Jaw i ntroduc~ into
lhe subject is lhc vet)' dyuaiuic o( Lhi:-: J:lfOCt:'.S. ''fo Lhe struggle
be~ law a.rad impulse', writes Philip Rie.fr, 'tht-rc can be- neither
YiciOry nor defeat.':" W~ will T\C'YCT rest easy undff the law, whKh
politically s-peaking is both los.s aDd g-.1io. f or some b w is indeed
he nil:,'T'I, pmte<.'TS u.o.: fTum injury :m-d r:rea teo: Tfw (l)nditions for
community b(tweC'n \•s: and the r~(t lhat in Frtud's \'iew we will
279
continue to reseot the constraints of even such enligh"'ned Jaw poses
a serious political problem. Our ability spontllrleously to imrojec:t
sucb a power, however, would also be our readiness 10 find in fascist
dictatorship the p!th to unique Jl"rsonal fiJifilment. Many individuals,
ofcoune, bave doae precisely that; but if Freud is to be believed it is
not a condition which can be susrained 'Qjirhout seven conflict.
freud holds that women, for reasons associated with their
particular Ocdipoll clcvclopmcnt, are less marked by the superego
tJlin men, and "'Tiles scornfully of their r.cant capacity for instinctual
renunciation. There is, perhaps, some tru tb in this sexist comment.
'l'be historicaJ eviden<:e would seem to SUJ111e81 that women are on the
whole less likely than men to come under the tlu:JII of IJ\Inscendenral
sipifim;, to be hypnotized 1>, llag and fatherland, tu spout uf
paaiotism or march bravely forward into the future sboutinr 'Long
live Life!' The reasons for this are no doubt a good deal more
historical than psychical: women have not generally been in a position
to engage in such aciMties. Yet it may be true, even so, that these
social factors interact v.itb certain psy<:hic structures, to render
women in general more oblique to the symbotic order, mon: sceptical
of authnrlry and more incliN:d than men 10 perceive irs cla)· feet.
Be.:ause of !heir sccW coodirlon.o;, but also perhaps because of their
uncoR$Cious relations lo their own bodies, women are arguably more
'spooltllleously materialist' than men, who, more deeply marked by
the pballiiS, -..nuld seem chronically lncllned to abctraet idealism. The
phallus, as Jacqueline Ro.se ha.• argued, is in any case a 'fraud';" but
there may be psychoiOSi«Jas well as historil:al reasons why women
are somewhat quicker than men tn spot this at the level of <ocW and
political life, and so to be less easily duped by the arrogance of power.
Much or the point of psychoanalytic practice is to combat the
superego's inS:Ine Jack of realism, to Jl"rsuade it 10 by down some of
itli more overbearing demands, or at least 10 make its burden more
tolerable. Such tteatment must try to make the •upcr<:JU mute
tolerant 3nd ruional, m defhre its false idealism and undermine its
Pbarisakal prerensions. In this process, the role of the analyst. as a
figure of authority who is ncvt:nhcbs forbearing and non-censorious,
and who withdrav.·s as far as possible from &II)' libidinal involvement
wit!• the analysand, is of key importance. The an.1yst must try 10
educate the patient's d(:sire away from its regressive subjection to
parental authority, releasing it for more egalilari1n rdalionships.
280
 THt NAMP- OF THF. FATIIEit

Since reveren"" for the parent is our earlietn fonn of idenlilic2tion,

thi> shift is boond to l>t painful and paninl. Perhaps the most we can
bope for, in r'n:ud's eyes, is to establish some """""vimrli with !he
sublime wrnth of the superego, negot:ialing wlut mon: creative
relationships we can within thi> forbidding framework. Psyclwanalytic
practice i.< concerned to wean us ""~ from battles we cannot hope to
win, persuade us out of our doomed og<m with the dead so as to free
tbose arrested energies for other ends. Of tbosc CSids themselves,
Freudianism, like Marxism, has linle prescripri•e 10 say; Freud joins
Marx in attempting ro shift us, thi> time at an individual bel, from
pre-history to history proper, resolving tbosc conllicta which lock os
into the post. When thi.< bas been achieved - when the 'talking cure'
has run its course and we are more free to determine our own furure
history on the hllliis of a revised narrative of the past - the scene. of
analysis, like revolutionuy political prattit:e, will wither away. In both
eases, however, it is only by recollecting the terrors of the past (what
Walter Benjamin wouW caU the trJdition of the oppressed) that we
can emlllcipate ourselves from tbem. Capillllst society, centred on
the eternal repetition of the commodity, neurotially represses the
terrible truth !Mt there wu a time when it never was, in lhat gesture
of self-delusion known as ideology.
What is involved in the scene of analysis, to put the issue in political
tc11111, is a gradual transition from tlu: absolulin monarch of tlu:
superego tt> what Freud called the 'cMStirurional monuch' of the
ego. The ego is lhe terrain on which law and desire conduct their
!'rightful warfare, but always in a fraught, unstable, contradictory
alliance. Wtthin the person of the ~t, absolutist power must
undefJO the kind of 'aesthetic' transformation whkh Friedrich
Schiller Wled for, become more respomive to the sensuous needs
and wishes of the subject. For Schiller, thi> was to be achieved by a
fruitful interpcneaatlon of law and desire, as fonnal and seiiSUal
principles soften eath other's imporrunity in me moment or art or
play. Freud has no such utopian hope; but this, one might claim, is
politicaDy aU to the good. If lhc i<l:nc of analylis fosters a certain
realimc acoeprancc of the truth that we un nenr sloy the filther, it
also breeds • dtgree of critical scepticism of his en>rbitant exactions.
It is a question of neilher denying nor oppropria~ the bw, but of
nurturing 3ll ambiYaleoc:;: towards it more creative than that infantile
ambivolence which causes us pain.

281
 Freud's story of lhe supereso is a tragic narrative, in more senses
tiwl one. The superogo is respoDSible for iDfficting upon us
grotesque suffering; hut it also has the implacable high-mindcdncss
of all IHJic art, an heroic mode associated with aristocratic absolutism
and ascetic self-renunciotion. What can be pined ag:>inst this
remorseless pu_rily is then comedy - a mort iolenmt, irunic,
debunking form, inhc:rendy materialist and and-heroic, which
rejoices in human frailty and imperfection, wryly concedes lbar an
ideals are flawed, and refu>es to clcmand too mach of individuals so
as to noid fillting into contemptuous disillusionment. 1\11 idea!Wn is
double-edged, spurring u, productively onwonds while mbbing our
noses in our inadequacies. Wb!Je\·er dreams of a pure re\'oJution 1
remarltcd Vladimir Lenin, will never live to see one. Comedy, like
\\iilliam Empson's pastoral, Jla>"S its dues to 1hc edifYing v.tues of
truth, vinue and beauty, but understands how not to pennit these
adminble goals to terrorize humankind, 10 lhe point where people'•
weaknesses btcome painful to them and their self-esteem dwindles to
nodling. Comedy and pastoral celebrate what indroiduals share in
common beneath the stin, and proclaim that 1hls is ultimately more
significant than wfult divides them. Ooe reason why politico! mdicab
uay justi6ably resent our present social system is that it forces us to
pay an inordinate amount of aacntian to divisions of class, race and
gender, wbich are not lD the end all that lmpanant. It binds our
energies ineluctably to these: currently vital cooc:ems, rather thon
freeing them for more re'll'arding pwposcs. Comedy's mocldng
denigration of what divides us is often enough a reactionary
mystification; hut there is al"' about it, a.• Christopher Norris writes
of Empson's 'comple~ words', 'a down-to-earlh quality of bcolthy
sceprici<m which ... permi" [us) to build up a trust in human nature
on a shared knowledge of irs needs and attendant wealmesscs•.JO
Freud had littk trust in human nature, and some of the jokes he teUs
are execrable; but he knew like Man and Empson that no compassion
for humanity which does not found itself upon a full look at the wurst
can be an)'thing other than t0013Dtic sentimentalism. For all f"reud's
grim disenchantment, his pity for the plight of the ego, booted as it is
between id, superego ond enema! world, is not far from the •l'irit of
comedy. What he failed to atlllin ,..liS the dialectical \isian of his
fellow victim of Nazism Bertoli Brteh~ who nmiages as a Marxist
c<>median to combine •• ..traordinan1y sensru.e nose for the
282
 THE NAME OF TilE FAnlER

imperfe.:t, unfmished state c.f human affairs with the most resc.lute
n:volullonary commiancnt. In 2n epoch like our own, when these two
options have become increa.<ingly pobri>.ed •nd exclusive, Drrcht
offers a not inconsiderable lesson.
None of Freud's psyehoanal}'lie thought is finally sep2nble from
his politi£,;. Whatever his de"oted cn1s:ade •g:oinsttlle superego, he is
politically speaking a pessimistic conscroativc outhorilarion, fun of
petty-bourgeois bonalities about the insensate hysteria of the masses,
the chronic indolence and stupidity of the working class :md the """d
for strong charismatic leadership." When Freud turns to directly
political themes, a notabk coarsening of his lnte!Ugence sets in; like
1118n)' a bourgeois ioteUectual, his ideological obtusenesses IU'e at· war
with his native wiL If Freud had lived tltrOlJ!h • different, mcire
hopeful poli~l ltistory, much in his theoreticol doctrine would no
doubt have been ttansformcd. He bas little sense of morality a>
anything but repression; morality for him is on lhc whole Jess a matter
ofvirtue, iD the Aristo~6an ur Marxist sense of the quatity uf a whole
style of living, titan a set of leaden injunctions. His negative,
drastically impoverished view of h = society valU3bl)' demystilies
romantic idealism to the precise extent that it reproduces th~ shop-
soiled platirudes of the nurlcet place, "'here man is a wolf to man. He
= sec nothing in the Christian comlt'Widment to lave all Of one's
neighbours thaD yet aoother ovcrweming imperative of the superogo;
as far as Freud l• coneemtd, there just isn't that much libido to go
oroun.d. He holds, for example, that to love everyone involves on
intcU<ctually suicidal suspension of judgement upon them, which is
no po~n of the Christian doctrine. As the Duke remarks to Luci(> in
Mrm~trt for Mtasart: 'Love llllb with bcaer knowledge, and
knowledge with dearer Jon.' The Christian commandment to Jove
others has little to do with libidinal cathexis, with the warm glow or
the song in lbe hetn. To Jo..: the Soviets, for example, means
refusing even to consider incine rating them, ~•en if the consequence
of thls is being iucinerated by them ourselves. Simply to contemplate
such a course of actioo, let al<m< enC'lJl.:tic:111ly pn:pan: for it, is
morally wicled, a f<nm of bch"''iour incompatible with krre. It i•
absolutely wrong to prepare to commit genocide, the term ' absolute'
hen: meaning wrong irrespective of any coocrcte historical cin:um-
staoccs wltieh could be stipulated as a j1J$tificatory context for SllCh an
action. One does not need to fmd inilividual S<wiets erotically

283
llllnt..:ti\'t: tu sulk;cribe tu this \·iew. If freud ;~lerts us to the deep
relations 1:-cf'III'I.':Cn /:,',.;sand .-.,gapr., he t:<•nsitlc:rs 1hc: 111:11iun urluvc 1uu
much in the conte.xt of the iormer.
Wh.11f'ver hio.; "trkllut!s u:1tht: ChriF>u:tn iniunctiun, Frtud ~.:enainl)·
bdie\·es lo•oe tO tta'\'d right b:otck. (0 the hqc\nni n~ of snbj..."('f i\'C lif(\
lnd sees in it one of the foundations ->f' human civ~lizatioo.
P~'C::tu:K~na l)ii('; pr:~ c.:titt> ao.; J uh:t K risH:\':1 h:ts :trgucd, is itst:lf:.. fm·m
of Jo\·lng;"' and indeed for Prcud IO\'C Hcs :n the S(lUf« (If all om
psycb.iul diletnmas. It is because we art all 'prc:maturcl,y' bom thai
.,..t! rn1uirt: 1U1 •m~.r>uall)· c:.ocll.mdt:d ptri(JJ of uJattnaJ aud emutioual
~arc from our parental figures: and h is within this biologic':ill_y
es.scnt.W intiu1a(') that st.( wtHty t•egins ro genuin:o.le. The P<'l'.ldo.xts
of law and desire ha\•4.' rhcir r~ri n h ere: tht: lilc1 r}uu "''<:an: ht:lples.'>
.and protecrcd •IIO>~t·s the: pl~.asu.rt prin~lc umr.a.rnmelkd sway, as
t.he f.Welimin:uy Sl!lg£ ()f Wh:f:l wilt btc'T lK:<:«niiiC: tlc.o;ire; but Ihi: s:ll1lt!
lac[ makes us wholly dcpcndcn( on o•.u:· pa rcnrallit~lrC.'i, and so brin&5
us from the very out$Ct into .a profound submission to authority. It ~
ehc-;c: t..u ll.trl~:i - what P...uJ Ricoeur co:dJs 'd»t history of desu·c 1n tts
great d cbat~ with aathority•,.... which wiD wagt" their deadly \l.'<lrt~ue,
clt:.t!it each c.ther's tails. oollude :.tnd (OIUdc on dlc: battkcrouOO
which ill nur hudies.. Hut this puh::ulial Cllla:>tnJplu: uli'Uid ;)li:\'tr ha\lt
occ:urred had we nor b«n cared for as infants, had Jove not been in
pb t:c, reatl) :and waiting for USt from d.Je very beginning. The
playv;righ• Ed wt~rd Bond spcd :_s movintciYin hi:; 1nciiu:c tul.o"Jr.T ul'tht:
'biologitil e:q:Jc<tations' with which wt arc born- dtt (>:pectatioo th:at
the bab)''S •wq::u-.:pattdots6 wiU be coa,.ed for, tl\31 it will b-e gWen not
oo.l)' fOod bm <"motional rt".assuranc~. rbt~t irs V111nernhiliiJ' ...,;11 he
shielded, that ir will be born iruo i world waiting 1o rc«ivt it. and th'*c
~nu..:-; J'""' to ra:r:jve il). ,. This, Boud suggests, would signify;~; truQ
:c ulture•- which is whv he rc·fusts•he term to(Ontempor,ny c..,piulis{
<.'i~·ili:t.:Jiioo. Bood js su~'Cly rjght to cl~tm th.u we h~~Ye cru1ed a world
whit:h OOt::a uot kiiiiW how 10 reccn·e us rleW members. If it
uncien;rands how ro W!lnn mer milt aJ!d ma.'ih 11ltir food, it lS at a to~
to kno'f how 10 shrttcr them ti'om che possibility of nucl~r
deso\tction, or frQI'lt the abra:si\tr. tmcaring- rdations which iDCT<'asingty
..:haractcri~e fJur Wll.)' of life. Dond sees th3t we h:lvc, so tr) spe-ak, il
'rig-he• to etllt\lt(', i.n" normnriw. sen.o;e uf rh:tt tt~rm> hf vinu e nf our
bioloskal struc-rurt, for rh.a1 strucu tK is st•cb that \li1hom •:~ • ltmr: ..n·
wouki qu•t;klydie. I luJT\o\11 nature has an 'cxpc<:Uticn' of culru:rc built
Zl!4
 THE NAME OF THE FATHER

to it, and to this degriO<' cenain kinds of values are entlaed by

ertain sons of facts. 'Culture' is at once a descriptive and cvalu.ati1•e
oncept: if it dcsigtwes on the one hand that ,.ithout which we are
ctually speaking unable to survive, it is also a qualitath>e index of the
nn of social life which really does shield the weak and welcome the
ranger, aliOI\'s us to thrive rather than simply subsist T here may
en: be the seeds of a pu6tical morality which has its roots in the body
ithout being, in some naturalistic manner, reducible to it. What is
ost impQrtantabout our biology is that it is stnlctored around a gap
r vacancy, where culrure must implant itself. It is this kind of enquiry
hich is foresulled by the pre,.nr cultoralist m·erreaction to
olugism.
A• early .,. the Proj«t for" Stittllifi<Pr,·moloJiY, freud wa.• feeling
s way towards •'UCh a theory:

At early stagts the human or·gonism is incapable of

achieving this >l"'ciJic action (of satisfat1iun]. It is brought
about b)· extr.menus help, when the attention of an
experienced person ha.s been dmwn to the child's condi-
tion by a discharge . . . This path of dischaJI!e thus
acquires oo extremely i01portant secondary function -vi:£.,
ofbringing about an undcmancling with other people: and
the origin.t hell:>lessness of human beings is lhus the
primal source or aU moral moth·es. n

efore we have come to internalize the parental function, before the

iee of CODS(ience begins to whisper disapprovingly in our car,
e seeds of morality have al.n:ady been planted, in lhar dlalealc
dem:a.od and respon...e betf;een bodies: which is our earliest
Xpcricncc, and frum wbicb sexuality is • kind of swcf\'c or d"'iation.
Morality has itS origin n01 in the superego, but in the small infant's
rec'tionale gratitude for rite care nfits elders. The polilical,lrobleon,
or which Freud provides no ultimate solution, is that this aff«.1iun
ust move within a conte.~ of biologically determined dependency,
o that the infant's learning to love is inseparable both from •
verence for authority and from aggression. To acquire a more
ciproe.l, eg;aUtarian scyk of loving is thus one of tbe goals of
sychoanalysis, as it is of re,'Oiulionary politics.

285
 (,;b,u lt~ L..-\iu. 'lu1 aud U:•c Sotivl~it\il 1'4"0. \'::~lut lrom ;a Psytbu
'l!tll)UC fcr:.pedh t \ la John Fd .et.: ted.). l.if~ ,-4_(ur frrsfr'll.,;}ml fJ"f
(Lu•M.Iun, 198l:(1, p. 2Z.
2 Sq,'ltlulld Fh uJ, 4.~1flutlivll, Stt;« {J .:.nJ Rd•.:itm.. Pd il;tn f rc:ull Library,
·;01. 12 (HvmOttdSw\II'Cll, l 985), p. l i l.
J Wdlj:.un Eu1pwt1, .sum~ 1-fflio;m <fP~t.,~JJ (Loutlou, 1966), p. I 14 (m)'
empbas.isl.
4 Fri:drich Nittz$(h(.. lk)·DIId c~ 4JJ! £,,.,) (llmnorulsworth, 1979)}
p. ~.
S Fredric Jun.:son. Th : PtiJN,-Jicul( <~[ Lt~.rrpt~ (Jl'rinC<tOn, 1972),
p. 108.
6 f':tul Rieoc:ut, Fmul ti."d PMIMcplly; .lftt En,q Clf lnrn-pdktti#f (1\'cv.
I bt'<·n and LondM. 1970). p. 382.
7 Iulie( M.itchd ? and J a('Quclin.: Rose {e.:ls), FrMirtir-:.t S11t'l.'tl1/,)·: 1••'f.'•d
l..nm.11 ''"" :ht £,~k f~nt (l.ond(m, 1982}, p . 6
8 Ricot:ur, Fmd (/"tf Phii'JJ~~'/. p . .33-t.
~ See • l'\.()Jhli!'l Krisw••, 't'reud and J h\'e: 'l~n l m.tnr nnd I~ l)koonren1 ~,
in 'fnril Mni (cd.~ Tiu A'riStt'Uif R~ad..--r {Oxford. JIJRt\).
I{) S l'e I .e-n Hf'r:utti. Tit ~ F~ R~> (Ntv )'rut. 19M), p. 9 7.
II Sigmund Frc.-ud, n~ E!!' ;mtl tltc /d, in Sil!f'rt,tl 1-'mttl: Vn :Uuq~lc,zy.
Pcliatn l''reutl l.if':.mry. w;l. 11 {H:t.nnDods'o\·nnh , lVXo\,t, p. :\'16.
12 Ibid, V· 38'1.
13 See Sigrmmd Fn:tal '.\Juum in~ :tml Mebocboli:l', in S~ ! 'u !ld:
Un tU e'>IPrfth~.
H l~i~. I'· 42$.
IS Bers~m. Tit¥ Fuwlitm .O.?Jy. p. U. .
16 Ibid, p. ll.
I i N(ufll:.ut o. nrown, Lift ..fpit!SI Dttrtil ()..c.ndon, J%8), p. 11 s.
IS R•t o<ur, FmrJ uJ Plu.J~Jr,r, p. ISS.
19 Siamund f rtud, Ctciii!.;ti~lj !frr1f ltJ Dfl(INttoJ!s. in Sigrml•ld Fm•J:
Cit•,.'isatirm, S'Jr.'tll' arJ Rd~(•n, p. 337.
Zii SJpmnd Fn:ud. 111e Fntrtrl'n{f:r'! llla.Jffl'f, tn .<:ipnsmd Fn.'tld: Cir:ib.•iuitm,
s o.:r·try.-:t:ol R<'hl.fon, r. JQZ.
:!I See Sip md t-'ri!Ud, •,\ Child Is Iking £k:aen·. in StF:-murJil J'rl'tltl: On
?q~ifl'p.ii.'''J•'flgt. t't.iicep J 'ttud Libl'al), v~l. 10 (J lamu'lndS"'·or.f.., 1979).
22 Pb.ilip Rtdl', Fn::d: "/"M ,htir:;l vlllu A1w-a!iJJ (Chicago and LondoJI,
1959\, p. 159.
23 fkfsani. Tiu Fl'(udi.1n llild;Y. pp, 39f.
24 Jean La:Jlan·:h<', Lifo mill l>toilll l, fJ!'yliMJ~taiyo( (Bt~ ltim!)f(' nnd Lo-ndon,
i '.l7fl). p. 102.

286
 7HE NMIE. OF 7HE FATHEit

25 Freud, The Futurcofaa .fl!ruiwt, in Signurul Frmd: CivilisMI;lln, Stxicf)' 4Jnti

~.,. p. 193.
26 Sigmuntl Freud, A Cmrr4/ /ntror!IJtlio • t• l't)•<h,..W:,.i< (N<w York,
1943), p. 27J.
27 F ... ud, Cil.i lisui.. tmd ilf Disamrrnu, in Sigm•nd FrfiJ.i: C'rt>ilharion.
Socit£1 .uW Rtligi••· p. 299.
2B RidT, Frrud: 111< Mirod l(rh< Mor•lifr. p. 2Zo.
29 jullcc MltchcU and Jacqudinc Rose, f'<mmillt St:rualif7, p. 40.
30 Christopher Norris, Willi<om ErrtpSIIII lllfll tile Philosop/oy of l.iur•ry
Critimm (London, 1978), p. 86.
31 S.,e Signumd Freud, c,..p P>,·rJ.nlngy """th• A..J}'ris uf rh. E£U, in
SipwuJ Frru: Civiliu>li.., S11<i<'7 a.J Rtligicn.
32 Juliu Kri.<revo, 'Freud and Lo,-e; Treatment and it< Di&comenu', in Moi
(ed.), 77" Krir,_/Wkr, p. 248.
33 Rieoeur, Freud aJJd Pklw.piry. p. 179.
34 Edward Bond, Lur (London, 1972), p. vili. Sec also my essay 'Narure
and Violence: the PrcfaoesofEAI\II'atd Bond', in CritWJ Q~~<~rrnry, \'ol. 26,
nos. 1 and 2 (sprins lllld summ•:r, 19M).
3S Sigmund freud, Projmfor • Sdnr:jjic PtychiJitlg, in Ernst K.ris (ed.), n..
Origiru <fl'tydtnmwlym (New York, 1951), p. 379.

287
 11
The Politics ofBeing:
Martin Heidegger
Consider what it i:; about any objt:Cl that~ at Wl(e constitt~t ive of its
being and quite hidden from 'icw. To begin with, there is its
temporolity - t.he fact th:u what we <ee when we contemplate
something is merely 1 kind of •llliJ"'-hot or frO«en ltlOincnt of the
temP=! process which goes ro make up its U'Ue n1111rc. Our dcaUngs
with things slice cross-secti<>ns into time, te:~riog objocrs •""'l' from
the tcrnporolity which is of their ess<occ and carving trn:m into
manageable synchronic chunks. Ifthis is ttue or time, it is also ttuc of
space: no object ever swims into view other tll:an a~t the
bacf<ground of some 'world', some dimly apprehended set of
interbced functions and locations. 1t is this ne!WOrlr of perspecti\'l!S
and relations, weaving a thing through to its core, which provides the
very matrix within which it becomes identifiable and intelligible. A
'world' is just the fact that there could ne\'er simply be one object-
tl1at any particular piece or reality, to he comprehensih1e at all, must
be already e11ught up in a vast, sprawling web of dem<ots to "ilich
it vaguely alludes, or (to alter the metaphor) must always be
foregrounded ag>~ in.r some hotizon whicn l< never entirely fixable by
our gaze. A world is not some kind of spatial object like the things it
con12ins, towizcd and rttotallzcd os it continually is by human
pr.o(.1 ite; this is why for phenomenolot!Y it is strange to speak of the
'e~1cmal' world, as though there c-ould ever be a world in the fir<t
place without the buman bodies wbich orpolzc and susuin iL But
this supporti,·e conte>Ct which make.< po.s.sible the sighting or any
particular thini is always itself elusive, fading into indeterminacy •.s
the thing itself surges ro.,.ard. It is wha.t we squint at sideways in
viewing something, rather than hove directly in our sights. And it
could never be grasped .as a whot~, rrailin~ off as it d()(s ou1 oi the
cumL'T'i ui nur \'i'iiou, :wg~ting ilfl infmi1) uf J)fJSSihle COJ\ntC'IJOI'IS
beyond any acrual horizon.
Wt can s.ce soructhin~ because it i:s pn:t~ent to us; but what we
c\lnnot usua.lly se-e is wh11t t oobled {his prt::$t!ntnes!) in •ht: frr;l p l:u.:e.
I low doc-s it come ;about that things are <WVailabk to uJ. r;ivtn ov(r to
uur undt:rslWldi.t.lg? The objects we \'tew and touch ha\'C J kind of
implicit accessibility about them ~· hkh, since it is no• 11 m:neri11l
pt·opcny \lke coklot• 01· volwnc, ~can Ca$ily take for granted: but in
duing ~n w<~ tr:tst: lht: mysttry uf bo"'· th iu~ s C:Ut (:00\t: into our ken ita
any cast. of wh:u it i.s dt:u 111alcs thr.m so ratlinlfly t:m:rnmlc:mhle. Nnl
ooly eDOOuntcr:~ble. indeed! but inteUigiblt, at lc:aS1 potc:uially. which
on~ c:1n imagin e might nnr rw.t:~~:arily h:nr: he:ert the n.sc:. \\1t:ll ir I he
~·orld w~ rt as despcn tdy opaque-to t1s as the ir:npr.ocrrabk O<:CIIn of
Stanislav Lcm's S!;laris, eluding the ruch of our discourse ~r.d
undel'$tand iog! What if OOjectS were 1 1.1~1 not the son nf thing we
could rcadity have any comporanent witb, bul appHrtd separ.ttd
from us by sume unbridg~l e gu1ff Is such spC"cubt!OB she-erly Klle,
nr <k1cs ir S«Xm sn only h<:cause we have .sut:c:umbt:d l(t an amnc::-.ia by
whic.h we forgcl c>ur astonishment at th.e simple n:2dy-to-bandncu of
reality, the r:.1l:l th:;t il ls sut:h th31 V. t \::lll Ita\!! regub.r ..Je:.aliu19> .,...jth i'l?
A1"d what is it rbat cvpbins (h is fiu;r? (s. it enough to say lh:u if wr.
wuJd not knowlhe work! we wQUid not be hen: t<> knew that v.·c could
oot knrrw lf, !d ru~ <:tu:h l:nnwklgt: 1s ~o;t:nri:~l In our sun•iv:.l?
F'mally, w-hat wt do not St'( in an objecr is that it might just as well
been ..'\s Lcibniz: fa n,oud)' enquires. why should there be
llt''CJ' h.H•'C:
auytltiog at aU, r.alht:r lhan i"u:.:l IUJtJt.ing? Ho...· l.:t.:l!t: tlmt thi.s uuiqut:lr
panicu)ar th.ing: has replaced the nochingncss thai would otherwise
l:to~\'e beeu tlte~•e, ;~~ HOihi.ug:uc:~ which in Ct1tain n1umc11~ ufbOrt!dum
ur 11nxid) w...: irna~nc thai wt~ c2n :..1ilf gt:l a glimpse of? h it not
'i.Stonishirsg that since n<>tbin« ac-[llally n«dt to exist, so many thinp
shouhl? Aud if ubjt:e."U an: iu lh.is sense: n~dit::illy \:{)ntmsenl. cau lhc:y
nut be sc~.:n ll'i in ~oml~ .,.,·ay shot. through with a sort or no•hingntss.
however much thclr rtplett presenttS might seem 10 den)' it.) \\'ould
not things that acnaillly had to cxist1 whose being wa$ oomdtow
J~n:c.o;sary, bt: Ll ilT~ rr:nt frum lh~ r.tndom, r~ pl:u:,!ahle hits :md pi.,'A:'$
we n~nc: arnund u~?
Such. whcthcr as sublime insight or mysti-cal raving. art s01ne or
the itllpli<ations (I( wbal Moartiu Heidc:s:ger l'alls Being, in <:rude .:md

28?
 sununart tOnn. ,1\ny such b~ ld fi (C'O\InT of f."Ollrst~ i.lemands qt1,1lifying
3nd dcvdoping: in On Ti"'~ Qttd Bn't~g, fQr example, Hcid.:-.~-r "'iU
d~ny tlcat B::iug it tt:~npu J :al . thoug:h Beiug anJ lime :~lo;tg tu8edu~r·
and rccipro.::ally t:lctt:n:ninc each 01h1:r. an• I i:n t.h(; 'C'-'"'":r:o:<ri«.11l on a
Co;,untry 1\uh: h.e g~.s be~ond the (still metaph~·s ic.;J) notion of a
~ranol hori1.nn Jn the idto.:l of :! ' rtt;!,ricm' imu whkh it r•pP.ns. {A~
Hd degger phbily put!! it in his aU..too~imiubl e later manner.
'Regioniog ts a g:;athering a1\d re-sheiterins for an t:\p:tnded m 1ing in
an a.hiding.',1 1 If we can speak of Be in~tarnU , however, Ihen at le~r for
the .:arly Hcidcggcr h is bc~l USC lm()ng lhc- 't•arious c:nti:i<.'S in rh.:-
w.Jrld du:-rt: is um: i.n particubr '"lw.::h, in the C(JU I"St- of iiS kif·
r\:aliz<n ioo. finds it<ielf una\'Oi<lahly r:l ~'ii ng tht~ 'lllr.<iliron of 1ltc:
fuod ament;l) natur~ o.f aU 9ihi!r entities, along v..ilh itsdf. T'his ' thing>
is O~Sdrt - rh:lt JH::i!l)li:n mode uf h~:>;ng whose: t'~<:st."T! Ct: f:lk~s 1tu: fnrm
of eris1t nce, and whkb li\·es lrsdj mo;! t)'J)i.caJiy in aod thrOt•gh cb.;
human. In aclutll.izing its owtl possib1.lities, DamN cannor help bu1
ma~c: manifis:r rhe rhings amund if, bringing 1hem 10 on ku.Jarirm
within its OYJn cotcrpri~:~ and this process, whereby Dauin allows lhc
hr.in.g:s aruuntl ir It) l~ ..... ,...., they :are, libe,;atc!i them into self·
disdl.lSilt(\ is for H<:ifkggt:r the lmn:n:ndc:n;,;c: which opr.IIS up
Being. The understanding this ento1ils is t>~· no means in the first place
:1 m:urer of th~ t:I ITl':f1l l - uf:t1:m~·iu y- o;uh1.:;,;t cuuf(mu itlg .J l uowabk>
object which it c.tn reprrsenr to it.; d f. Por o~.~d". bc~ort: arriv\nr;: 111
lll\y such cogo1tion. finds itself 1lways ;;,lrcJdy ir. commc:r<:e with <nher
1hinlC" it: way" whid1 pn.:suppu:.t' a ~.:crlaiu prialUtf'dia.l .JC<f'SS lO them,
a practic-al oricruarion or famiJiariry '"'hkb is ~ lr-eady !I kind oi
uJ~tJ erstamling btittte the e•,et\t, oar.d which Ia)'$ th ~ ontologic1l
li•unda1i1m <•f• II mt)rt: 1f1nnal knuwiu~. 'l'o k110w SOu1e:rhtng rati()tlJlJ)'
or sdentilicaJJ)' is dependent {In some- morl' basic 9\laiJAbiHr,• of the
thing tu DMl·ci,.; aJld !king, ill at least ont of its various SCO$C.'$• is
wharc''C'.r it is which allrrws 1hi" a primi li\'ailabilit.v ul ubit:"1:.. l•) 0(( ur~
th;c which l-.as altc1dy handed lhcm ot.cr ro l>iuti~<t in ~ son of prt -
rational, pre-cognitive intimacy and r~cogni:ion. O ne can think f)f
trurh in d~!>ic.d SL~le ..s :.ul " d«j\l;tlion bel'Ween mind and w.orld,
subicGr s nd (lh jr..:t; hu1 Jiw auy :tut:b l 'On't.spOJldt iiCe 10 get set up J
good deal must alrca~ have htl ppencd. Where did this s~•hj ;: t:J :1ntt
object come from, OOw did thdr ,·cry inldiigj.bili.Jy aris('. 11nd irom
wh.:rc du 'ttli: ..Jerivt l11<: complicated pt·o cedurc6 ))y winch they might
bt som~how compll t t>rl~ Tnuh :1s propc!!-; l inn :~ l , Hr.ide-:; ger :uguell in
1'11(' b!en« if Troth, must itself rely oo some de(>Jier uncovering of
dlin~~ a letting of phenomena be In their preser.tneS$ which is the
ctlh:t ftf &ttin's tJaf6Ceu deoce. For us to a.SSCtl St)u.elhing
presupposes a domain of 'op<'n.ocss' io wbkh l>trSI'tn and £he \\'Orld
ha,·c alre:ady tncQuntercd one allOtber, h3vc never not already
en('C,mnteredt were never S(1JS~rnble in the first pl11c;e. lJ,.ud" is d1111
free drift of transcendence .mich finds itself cons12ndy pau ing 0\'er
from the sitt-er fact of otht:r emitits to cJ1e queslion of rheir ~t-ry
Bring; and it is this tmn:.ccndtnce ....-hitf1 QPCOS up what Jicldcggtr
calls the 'or.tologicaJ diffe rer.ce' whercb)' ~ dislinguish bet¥'een
beinw; :m1l 6f'Jng, unrlerr.t:mding th:u the l:tiTI!f c:~n nt!.,.t>r he
exhausted b;· tht fonner. It is as though DAstitJ locates iut'lf in the
division bt:lween the ~"'<~, ioserting itself tbere as a kind of g.qJ1
rcJation or 'in betv.~ten•.
Deing, then1 ts tft.lt 'd~ring' or re.ai.JJ1 of encounter which is.
ncilhcr ~uhjec l nur nbjc:t:t lml , d.'> il were:, c ia~ :O.j iCJUiun rn~ aYdiluhilil)
o( each 10 the other. lf Bcing is wbat C)SCntially determines something
;15 it is. then the rr.ost bJ.slc: feawrc of th.ings, for tile cady llcidegger
ar Je.11sr, is tbAt ttley :U'E' :.bit" somehow to oompon themsclves with us
long before we hne 'chieved any determinate knowledge of them.
fk Wg is ll 1u~ u resj)(lose lit lht que:.tiun: WWat mUSI al·ways aln:a.d)'
M,vc taken pbcc fOr (our 'raffic witb the worJd tObe pos:;\blc? D,;sein'J
I N 1l ptcu:i:ir bt:tng is to ~Ot'!IJ'rehernl &int;. to tiJ\t.l i ~df :alv.~~s in the
mitl•a <•f lmdcf:':ltamting :t!i th(: w:ry mc;c:lit.lm l)f ir.; practical proiiX!f:s.
Since it is priJ'IW'iJo; Bein@"..)n ..the..world it is a form of existence
ineluctably referred to othef thi.ogs, and It is in ttus bound·-lll)ness
with things lhat it brings them 10 Sf'lt-disdosure.
T hen:: is an obvious p:ualld between this exotic style of thoughl
anti d1t: lnm:.t:tntlt:utali:.m uf du:-.-;!~:11. 1 idc-ali:it ph ilosophy. II' Ht:in~ jo;
tbc \'cry accessibility of objecn in the first place, tb(n it bears a dc:~.r
rt:lali4111 tu Ka ni:S lra m l'e iKit:lll:tl Sl:uulpuinl upun lhe wmltl. Aut il
::~ l;n lht':fl:h~ bear. 11 p::culi11r rt-h1ti11n t() th<: Kandan RC'Jth.;ric, which
;as we have seen in''otves the mystery ofh(lw mind ;and world slup<: up
to Cold otbef in some unspoken compuc:t, as 1.h t basis of any
pArricu l:~r ~CI:'
of mgniti•)f'l. H.eitlegge,.-'s ceiP.bnated concepf of 'pre -
undcm!lndint - oi the wt~y in which. \\'lthln 1ht inescapable
cir<ul.arity of all interpretation, phenomena mu!!t be w mehow already
nuuitl\d)· Ul~lfdtt~ n sible in llrt.h:r 10 he k.nown- hlrks bad: in lhio;
Sll~rN: tn Ka nt' o; a<:srhc::tir. 11mncmenr thil{ the: world is Jh ;,~ ~ind of
thing in general that can be understood. It is ilS though Heidegger .has
now thoroughly ontologizcd this aesthetic claim, so that Kant's
aeswric JIC'<c<prlon, which is yet ro arrive ar any definitive knowledge
but is the JIC'rrDanent precondition of doing so, bcl'Of!lCs in the
concept of DauiR the persistent orientation of human ~stcnce to a
mute familiarit}' with what surround!IO ir. In his \\'Ork on Ni.et.tSche,
Heidegger defends lhe Kan!Uon doctrine of aesthetic disinterested-
ness by uanslaring it into the terms of his own lhooghc 'In order to
find ~omcthing beautiful', he argues, '1.t.·e must let what encounrers ltS,
purely as it i~ in itself, come before us in its OWTJ SIBtorc and worth . ..
We must freely snni to what cncount<rs us as such its way to be; we
miL.r allow and be.row upon it what belonll" ro ir and what belongs to
us.'' I< anti!Jn •esthetic: disinterestedness thus becomes tquivalent to
Hcid<:¥t"erian Being, Kantian 'bca<.rty' the coming fonh of lhe object
in aU itS ontological purity.
1
Human existence is thus for .Heideggtr taesthetiC in its must
fundamental structures; and it is pan uf his criticism ofKmt in Kant
tmd tire l'r®ltm •fl'dttsplrj~ia that he backs ofT from this subver.sive
insight. For Kant, what rnedi:~ tes between seu.ibilityaml understand·
ing is lhl' transcendental imapnation, which cons!nlcts dle schemata
that male aU kllowtedse possible; it is tiUs imagin•tion which on
Heidegser's rttding of K.ont 'forms in adV3nce the aspect of 1m
horizon of objettivity as sUl·h'.' The imagination is dle common
source of sensibility and understanding, and lhe roor of pnctlcal
reason as well Kant has thus acsthcticized the very ground< of
kllowledge, underntining thefoundatiun of pure reason in the very act
oflaying it down; but he shies nervously away from the radicalism of
his own move, loath to admit anything as lowly a.s the irrutgin•rion
(which is commonly coupled with sensibility) ns llre basis of reason
itself. Hcidc!:fcr himsclfwill project th.at transcendence out of Kant's
epistemological realm into the very ontology ofDasrin itself, seeing In
that the process by which Dasri» 's routine truck with the world
continually opens up a horizon within which the Being of beings
becomes discernlble prior to any cognitive engagement with mem. If
for Kant, howe,·er, the »estheJic: is a kind of rounding upun or
objectifying of our own cognitive capacities, no such objectification is
fuDy possible for Daseit~ given that radical temporality which brings it
consttntly to outrun or get ahe.ad of itl;elf.
Thm! is in Brinta•tl Timt an interesting tension between two

292
 'nit POUTi('S OF RP.ING

different coaceprion.< of the rebrinns betWeen D•uin and illl world.

On the one hand, the whole notion of Dmrir. as Being-in-the-world
tends 10 question as a fabe metaphysical duality the very distinction
be~:v;ren Da"in and world implicit in the term 'relation'. The world is
not a space which Dmtin is 'in', as inl< is in a buttle; if it is of the •ery
nature ofDt~ttin robe wrapped up in reality, to be consdrured through
and through by what Heidegger calls its 'care', then e>istcnc:e as such
rnngrcsses any dichotOII'I}' between inner and outer, subje<:t md
nbjecL The world is not 'el<lemal' to D;uein; on the contrary, there
<'Uulu be no 'world' wirloout it, as opposed to some background of
meaningless materiality. 1be world is a pan or a proje<:t of Dasrin
quite as much as DMein is o:~ lv~r3ys 'outside' itself, ec· static, constantly
passing over beyond things in that movement of transcendence which
opens up Being itsdf. As a kiod of 'in between', yet nothing as
substanth·e as a 'relation', 0..-in (as the very term suggests) is a 'here'
whlch is alw.I)'S also a 'there', oiWllys out ahead of i!Self, non-self-
identical, and is rhus no 'thing' to be Inside another thing but a sMer
process of going 0""'· o....;. is dependeot on reality, since to be
bound up in It Is of its very essence; and conversely me world is
dependent on D~Mtin, if not for its existence (Heidegger is no
subjective idealist) then for that si)ltli6t'3nt sclf-disdU5ure whkh is its
Being. If Being is that by which objeCts become present to DMrin,
then there can be Bdng only as long as Daui11 inruprs into tile midst
of things as a revelatory force. Then: can be no truth without Dasrin,
since Being and truth are •imuhaneou<. Dascio and the world are thus
correlalivesof one another: ifDwcin 's activity is necessary for there to
be Being at aD, then for the early Heidel!llct the world is ccnt:rcd upon
Dauin as ils uhimate reference point. Dtll~iN 1 a.s Heidegger puts it. i!~
the 'dcsdnation' of all other things, which wait mutely t<> be
uncovered by iL Yet at the s.un<: time D"'rin is 'referentially
depeodent" on the things around it, in a way which prevents it from
ever fuPy rnasterinr them. Wbar Hcidegg<:r calls its 'thrownncss', it!
condition ofsimply finding itselfpropelled willy-nilly into the midst <>f
reality, designates both its non-mastery of ils own b.ing and its
reliance upon others. Just in order to exist in its o-...n ~-ryle, DllJti,l's
srruttUre compels it to a persl.stent comprcheosion of the enddes
around it, projected as it is beyond any one of them towards tbe
unattainable completeness of grasping the totality of beings as such.
Dasrin and the world, then, are ctntnd upcm one another In what ooe

293
mlghr loosely term an 'imaginary' relarion: the Laner caMot be 1112de
present without rhe former, just as one might speculate rhar rhe &maR
infant fir>ds it intolerable that reulity could go on existing in its own
absence.
Within rhi< murual OOI11flliciry, ar least for the early Heidegger of
Bring and Tirru:, D<w:in relllins a cc:riJiin ontulogiCHI priority; and this
betrays in lhe text !he rrace of a certain residual humanism, however
much any sirnple identity bel\0-een DIISrin and humanity may be
denied. That priority, indeed, is also a kind of cleavage betWeen
Dll$ein and iiS world, wbich provides the alternative version of the
relation between them in the worl. It is the tension between an
'authentic' D~Mtin, choo•ing its own mo9t individual possibilities in a
resolute living-tow:~rds-death, and tltat degtaded W<Jrld of prnttle,
idle curiosity and anonymous mass existence into which it lee!'$
Wling ('Prutle' (Gmd<) signifies for Heidegger empty, rootless talk,
such as 'Saying says sayingly what it says in its <Nn saying', which
could be a sentence from the later Heidegger). The very world which
goes to constitute Dascin thns also poses a threat to it; and this""" he
read in pan as a conflict between an onto~cal and a political sense
of !he term 'world'. As the realm of Deins in general, the world Is
inscpanble &om Dasein 's very srrucnote; as an ocwal social environ-
ment it i.s a considerably more bleak and alienating sphere, the place
nf the faceJe.. 'lim Man' who conli~cates one's authendclty. This
d iscrepancy is regulated by beiog itself 'ontologized': ioautltentieity,
Heideggcr srim!Y insists, is not only a pcnnanent ootologjcal
possibility of Dauin but for the most pan its most typical mode of
being. 'Falling' into a degrading reality, tarnishing its purity in a set of
almleu involvements in which Being is co••ercd up and forgonen, is
built into Dtuein 's very nanore. since as Being-in-the-world it realizes
itself only lhroush its .,.rappcd-upness in thlnp. The •cry source of
its free <elf-ac!U2Iiution is rhus 3l<o what conwninares it; iris unable
to be irsdf wilhout erring, incapable of recollecting its unitary bein~
without first having forgoncn iL HeidelRICf thus informs us that he
does ru)l intend hi• ducription.c of D<~Stin:< inauthentic modes 10 be
derogatory: th•y are part of its 'giren' po..'Sibilities, wi.OO..t which it
could not be what it i>. This disclaimer is singularly unooovincing:
these descriptions quite dearly ""' negam·e, enforcing a rigorous
distinction between DtJ$tin in irs 'proper' and 'improper' conditions.
The two stites of being arc held apan even as they mutually marie and
294
 THE P()U11C.~ OF R£TNG

implicate one another. On the one h3nd, Dast'in is inseparable from

its world; on the other hand it is something of a vagrant or alien in
history, 'thrown' Into reaUcy in the first place as hoUJcless and
unprotected, and summoned beyond this dismal facticily into an
authentic encounter with its own lonely finitude a.ad death. In the
crl.<is of resolution, Dtutiu chooses to be what it is, recognizes Its
possibilities as its own r•ther than as detennined by the anon)mous
Other, and projects itself forward towards death in a movement of
separation from and re...:ng:agement with the objects of its COJICenl.
Sucb lllOVtrnent could be Ken as a kind of rupturing of its 'irru~ginary'
rclatioo.• "'ilh the world - an entty into the 'symbolic order' whose
structures ure those of finitude, difference, individu.olion and death.
When Hc!dcgger is thinking In these ttrms, he tends to underline the
apartoess of Das.U. as a fom1 of self-referentiality: if aU other
csscnts lind their destination in it, Dm.U. i1:1elf Ca.DlJQl be referred
beyondiiStlfbut exists as its own end.hs peculiar mode of being is to
be concerned about its<!lf, ""en if this self..:oncem neceS>arily takes
the form or an immersion in the world Because it is essentiaUy
temporal, its working out nfits own authentic ' destiny' t.lkes the shopc
of being constl!Ddy out ahead of itself and to that ••tent non-self-
identical, deflectod from a brooding upon its own being hy lts
enmeshment in reality. In a Hegelian move, IIo"""'er, such ernincy is
just tlu: way Dastirr ceaselessly returns to itself: the moment of
'anxiety', for instance, in which Da.uin in the course of its mundane
involvements suddenly glimpses the nullity of things, can be
profoundly theropeutic, recaUing it to Its own 1n..-ardness awa)· from
what Heidegger d<scribes as its 'capth-ation' by objects. Btint and
Timt thus tumS to a kind of advantage the very temporality which
jeop2rdizes the integrity ofDauin with irs sp>Cings and dirfu.<ion<; for
this temporality is also the very medium of Dpstin ~ 'anticipoltory
resoluteness', irs unflinching orientation towards the furure cenainry
of .il~ 0'\l'll exrincticn-.. If Dauin c:an t!VetJ now appropriate th:.t future
death, stark signifier of irs finitude and contingency, 'rclrOjt:et' it into
irs •-um:nt existence, tbco it io able to bind and brace iwelf in this
cnnwnr prolepsis. Ifit can ombrace the contingency symbolized in its
future death then it can somehow lh·e that contingency as inner
necessity; and in a similar way it can appropriate the pure glvenness of
its po..r (i" 'thrownne.s'} in order to be resolutely at every moment
what it has been. This 'aestbcric' style of cxlstc:nce no longer simply
Z95
abolish<!s time, reducing it to pure synchronicity in the rna.nner of
some eod ier aeSibclic thought; nther, it consttuets &om the sruff of a
faUen history a more authentic mode of temporality, which bas
precious little to do with historicity· in ""Yrecci'ed sense of the term.
(HcideS~~er's 'authcnti<:' history, Lul:lcs commentS in Rulism in Our
Ti-., is not distinguishable from ahistoricity.) It is from sucfl
'primordial' temporality, inde.cd, dtat for Heidegger our .-.e.yday
meaniniJS of time an.d history ON ckrived. Dauin, thtn, as a
tl':lnsfigu.r•tion of contiugenc,r imo necessity, :md of the factldty of
life into an inwardly appropriated law, cmibits some of the features of
the work of >n.
Such an aestheticization, hoWG\'cr, e:m on1)' C\'er be parti;tl. For we
have seen lliready that Da<l'i• 's aulll<!ntidl)' is inseparable from a
cemin errancy or unttutb; and though it is in some sense self·
referential, it can never become wholly totali1.ed or se1f-detennining.
Tbe rejection of such self-determination, which beloogs to the
twiScenclental subject, l< the price Heideggu's thought has to pay for
a refusol to 'subjectivize' Dasci• i.n the maooer of some anthropological
humanism, which "·ould simply be a perpetUation of mctapb~'Sical
thought. The 'thrownness' of Dasei• means that it can never be h.<
own master, never mista.ke itself for the originarr source of its own
being. It is unfinished, dependent and ill part self-opaque, unable to
r01.l.nd uron iM own proa.ss of constirution in l mome_nt of utter self-
lnlnsparency. To this extent, one might dBim, Dasrin is a non-
aesthetic form of being, shot through .,.;th negativity, aiw:o)'S eccenlric
to itself.
On the one hand, then, Dasrin is continuaUy 'capli•ated' (ringtn!Jf11-
mm) by other beings and r~rberates in anunemenr with them, in
some fundamenm1 cocnpact or alliance ~;th the world which
resembles Kant's aeSibetic condition. On the other hand it is prior to
and rranscerulent of that world, preserving its precarious authenticity
by a ceaseless sepmuion from it, as well as by a resolute engagemut
with iL If there are philosophical - and broadly political - reosons why
it is no longer enough ro imagine humanity as a solitaff, self-enclosed
subject confronting an inen object - if that now dlscrcdircd form of
tnum;endcntDI subjectivity hos been silarply decentred into material
reality- then there arc also good polirical rc:l$009 wby tltls sbould nor
be thought to entail an uncritiC31 cdebrJtion of 'worldUness'.
HcidcBJ:cr is deeply c110t1~b maned by Kicrkc'gllllrd to write off tbc

296
 TilE POUTJCS OF BEING

public sphere it>elf as inherently inauthentic: what in lhc early,

aflirmoth-e days of bourr;eoi< sodery was 3 realm or civilized soo•l
inter<<>tJTSe bas now dettrior.lled to an alienated domain of ad-
ministered processes and manipulated mass opinion. Monopoly
capitali'm bo.' now penetntcd into the bourgeois public sphere it•elf,
reorJ!llllizing it in acoordaot"< "ith its own reifioatory logic. Bur !h.:
monopoly capitalism which bas dehumanized this public domain Is
also in the proces.' of well and truly undermining the classical
bourgeois conception of the free, self-determining individual; and
this is one reason wby Heide""r cannot espoUS<: Klerkegaard's ~n
alttmative to 'am Man', the intensely inward subject of spirinnil f• ilh.
Or at least llll<:h inwardnc>S must now be priscd loose from tbc
empirical indi,idual and lifled into some ontological sphere (Dastin)
which is, will> suitable ambiguity, both a subj<'Ct and not a subject.
This etfon to rethink traditional notions of subjectivity, and a
patrician disdoin for the public, boll> arise from a 'higher' capitlllism
whioh is eroding al once the liberal humanist subject and tbe civi<:
space In which It bas tnditionally consoned with others of iiS kind.
Bu1 the shared historical source of these twin doctrines in Heideggu
cannot er.tdicate the 1cnsion bciWccn them. Dasrin as an idea is at
M£e a remorseless assault on the philosophY of the autonomous
subject, capsizing that subject into the " ·orld in ec-static disunity with
itself, and at the same lime: the lat<-st in a lun~r series uf pmilCJC<l,
aesrherici7.ed, qh:lsi-tnnseendcntal 'subjects' je.aloo.dy protecting
their iDtegrily and autonomy from the taint of the quotidian. The two
penpe<:tivcs will enter into unholy alliance in Hcidcgger's later
Nu.ism: the tbmwn, decentrcd subject will become the self humbly
subntism'l! to the earth, while authentic, self-referential Dosffll will
emerge as the elilist vocation of the HtrTffrOollt for the porious self-
sacrifice of death. Death, as Heidegger argues in Dting and Tim•, is
dtot whicb is absolutely one's O\lo'D, non-relational and non-alienable,
a kind of paradigm of private property which the faceless pubbc ' they'
can nenr steal. Death individualius DMtin to its roots, teariog it
away from all Being-\\itb-othm; and it is thus perhaps not sutprising
that such Being-with...,tbers, supposedly an ontological structure of
Dauln, receives relatively perfllllctory trcaancnt in Bting and Tmrt.
Though Heide""r's caJl'lcity tn derive ID)'Stified m.uims from
idealized peasant societies appears wdl-nigh inexhaustible, it is
striking that GtmtiiUdwft- !h.: organic community so favoured by the

Z91
radical riJht - attracts somewhat scant anention in his nOStalgic
maunderings.

It could be claimed, lhen, that a central ideological dilemma of Btir.g

and Tillll is how to protea an essenlial sulwer.ion of the u:onscen-
denra1 subject against an ignominious «.."'Oapse of the subject into a
debased 'mass' history. To put die point in a different W1}": how is
DtiStin to sustain the l ind of imaginary relation wilh lhe worW which
will ma.ke it feel at home dtere, •nd which as we have seen in Kant is
epiMnaed in dte aesthetic, "ithaut losins mck of its own priority
and integrity? Bur how in tum is that priority over the world to be
distinguished from • purely trJgic sl'ru<: of estrangement and
contingency? Not to claim some privileged surus for DtiStin would
seem to be to succumb to positM.<m, stripping the human of its
distinctiveness; tv do so, however, risks reproducing the very ideology
of Man's dominance over Nature with which that pasitivism belong><.
As long as the shadow of sucb o humanism is cast over Being Nntl
Timt, Heidegger has still not escaped the mcuphj'Sical duality of
subject and object. As Being-ln-the-w<>rtd, DA><io is suppnsedly
prior to :all such divisions, the sheer ungrounded nothingness or
transcendence which opens t1p their possibility in the first place. Yet if
its recurrent boUts of ontologicol anxiety- made possible by that very
transcendence - illuminate the nuUity of things, a 6ssurels bound to
open up between such things and DIJ.!<ia itself, now sternly reQIIIed to
its 'proper' tnsk of self·reafuation. In this sense a division healed at
the ontological level insists on breaking out again in the exlsttntlal
realm. It L< from this dua~ty that the Sartte of Being ~.a Nothing,:as
will take bis cue, appropriating from Btint and Timt aU that 11lJlkes it a
tragi< ten. It becomu pos.<lble, in other wocd•, to exploit the
equivocations of Heidegger by subordu•ating his appa.rent transcen-
ucuco of the subject-obj«t diviuc to the vision of a sense-bestowing
subject set 17Vcr against a rulity drained of immanent meaning.'
Heldeg{!ei"'S&mon.< rum or Ktlmln the period after Bting • rul Timt
represents a drastic solution to these dilemmas. To •pproach Being
itself through the optic of Dastin is still a residually meuphysiCA.l
manoe~~Vrt, <lnce metaphysics QID grasp Being only fr(lltl the
standpoint ofparticular beings. Metophysic:s is born of the oblivion of
the difference between Being and beiags, constnling the former on
the model of the ~tter. This gesnae must thus be put into reverse,

298
 11lE POLITICS OF B&ING

and l>iulin e.umincd from the standpoint of Being itsdf. In the later
Heideggtr, accordingly, the emphasis E1Ds increasingly upon Dauin
as the 'then:' of BeinJ itself, Being's own free self-""·eJation in a
particular mode. lJaui# is a coming to pass of Being more
fundomentalthan humanity itself, the source or essence of the human
wblcb Itself emerges out of me still more ofilina!Y abyss of Being
itself. Beiog now seil..es priority ~r its own 'there', throwing it out or
withdrawing it in acoordance with the necessities of its owu nature.
'Only so long as DatriR is, is there Being', Heldegcr had wrltlcn in
Bting muJ 1;·~ ; but in the Ltller 1m Humonism he wiD add rhe crucial
qualificatiun that 'the fact that the Da, the Ugltling as the truth of
Being itself, comes to pass is the dispensation of Beint! itself'.• It is
now Being, in shon, wbi.ch h3$ !he upper lund, bri.nging about its
own illumination. ' Man' is simply a relation to Being, nesponsi>·c and
delivered up to it; what lhinlcs in h\llltal\ d!ought about Being is
evoled by Eking itself. Thought L' just a kind of acqw scence in
BcinJ, a docile letting be of it, recollecling and gmng thanks for it.
Throughout the work of the pou-KtAtt Helcli£181'r, It i.s Being- not of
course to be mistaken for anything as metaph)"ical as a subjectl-
v;bich arrives, bestows, descends, withdraws, gathers, advlllccs,
shines fonh. The .role of humanity is to be simply tbe shepherd and
pn-scr¥cr of this mystery, which Hcidegger will progressively speak of
as 'holy' and connect wilh 'the gods'.' History itll<lfis now simply the
succes&ve epochs of Dei.ng's self-don•rion or self-concealment, as
humanity is thr<r.n off and ptbered b•ck to it like some ontological
yo-yo.
The relation betwr;,n Being and Dasei• in the later Heide£181'r L'
thus more fufi-t>loodedly 'imaginary' lhln it was in /king mrri Trmt . It
is 001 only that DasriR is slavi.shly depcndenron me myst.., of Being;
it is also that Being has a reciprocal need of Dtlsdtt. Stio requires its
Dtr. it is pan of Being's inner necessity to arrive at aniculAtioo, much
like tbe Hegelian Idea, and humanily conveniently provides the place
where thls may happen, !he 'dearing' in which Eking comes partly to
lighL Dastin ilo Being's mouthpiec<: there i• a primordial complitily
berw.oen 'Man' and Being, which !lpring together from an 'event' or
Err:ipis more fundamentnl than eilher of thmt. 'It is imperative',
Hcidcggcr writes in !ikrrtil] anti Dijf=na, 'to cxpaicncc simply this
Eit,nm (suited, futing), in which man and Being arc tr-tigrld (suited,
fitted, en-owned) to one another . . . '• Humnnity and Being are
Z99
 'assigned to each other'.• at once held apart in diJTcn:ncc and at one. If
this is C:!)'pto-lll)~lieal spcculalion, lr I< of an idenlngically cnmoling
kind. 'Being' is now taking o""r from 'world', so that au aJfmity with
the fonncr.cumpcnsatc:s for an alienation from tbc latter. It is not that
Dastin 's disb'essing tendency to co"er up and eradicate Being is any
less grievous: 'technology' is the lat.,. Heidegger's vague portmanteau
tcnn for this CIWU'Ophe. But Being would now appear to brin~ about
its 0\\'D conceakdness, oblivion of it being part of its own inner
destiny. 'Technology is in its essence a destiny within the history of
Being and of the truth of Being, a ttu!h th.at lies In obiMon',
commentS Heidegger in the Laur 1/11 Humtmi•m. Erasing ond
forgetting Being is os much plllt of it as anything else, and so as much
within Its 'truth'.
Heideg!l"r had argued in e..,·.g anJ Timt that the e:~Sence of Dturin
i• humeles.nt:SS: it is of the nature of.human existence to be estranged
and derac:lnatcd. This theme continues in his later writinp: but It
is now 'dwelling' or ' ar-homeness' which would appear more
fundamental. 'Owt:lling •.. is dtc l>tuic iltaractrr of Being in kc.-ping
with which m01Uis exist', he writ~ in the essay 'Building Dwclling
Thinking•.• Whatever tbe depredotions of technologic31 reaoon,
Dturin is cs..:ntially at home:. in the world. Just as Bring 11Jtd Tmre
rumed D;utin 's stn)iJ>r md losmess into valid constituents of its
nature, so the later Heidegger fiods in Being a claim upon humanity
which will not abandon it even when it wanders ofT. 'We come beck to
ourselves from dtings', be writes in 'Building Dwt:Uiog Thinking',
'r:>itluntt roer aJJrvrJooiug our stay among things. Indeed, the loss of
rappon with things that occurs in states of depression would be
whoDy !rapos:sible if even such a swe were not still what it is as a
human state: !hat is, a stayingu>itJr things." 0 \Vhereas in Brill!""d Time
an involnment with the world was always a pos>ible deviation from
Dmrin's own authentic self-reference, it is now an abiding with things
which appears most authentic, and the recoUupon oneself subsumed
eaily within it The crisis of anxiety, of !holt dispirited sense of the
nullity of obj~ whieh unbinges us from them, is blandly sublated
into a more primordial at-bomeness. Paradoxically, we arc m<l.<t in
touch with reality wlu:n we tnn>ccnd it in a movement of separation,
for such tr.mseendence discloses its Being, which Is what is most
'ntar' about iL The yawning gulf which a technological capitalism has
opened up between humanity and its world is covered over in a

300
 nrF. POI.tnC~~ C)P: RF.JNG

Cantuy of eremaJ l\)'mhiosis. Being :u such remains as a whole

conlingt!nt: Heidegger deni•• it aUmet"Phy>ical grounding, viewillg it
simply as suspended in the movement of its own nothingness. What
'grounds' Being is ju.r this perpetual surge of its own free
transcendence, which is itsclf a kind of no-dUng. HeideSIJer's Being
Is abyssal and anchnrless, a kind of groundless ground, which snstains
itself like the wurl of art in il> own free, pointlc:ss play. YctifBcing as
a whole is thus contingent, D111ein, curiously, is not, since Being has
need of it, contains :lu interior indigence which &eio must
supplement. Viewed as a parr of Being, Dturin would seem to share its
non·nec=iry; vitl\·ed in r<Wiiln to Being, it would "!'Pear graciously
dispensed from such a fate. And Ibis is indeed welcome news for an
alicnared humanity, even If the he:l\y price paid for it is a virwal
extinction of th• subject as free agent and a philosophy resonant
,.,;th poncntous vacuities. 'One speaks', comments l'hcodor Adomo
In 1hc]tJI'f!»> ~Authentiritr, 'from • depth which would be profaned if
it were called contenL111
To claim that Being needs Das<in is acruaUy to s:ay no more than
tlut the W<>rld needs an interpreter to be interpreted Part of the
function of the later Heidegger's rhetorical devices is to sUde this
unexceptionable case clo•e to the mystical vision of a Being whicb
adopts lJld solici!S human ity in the manner of a divinity and i!S
wtari<s. If the consoling ideological fiction of a world which polits
and "'quires the human is no lon!l"r viable, it can be replaced with
!he alternative imaginary drcuit of a Being-as-disclosure for wbicb
the existence of Dturin is imperative. The primary form of tlut
disdosure, io tbe later Heidegll"r, is language." Language is the
privib:ged mode in wbicb Being articulates itself in humanity, and
poetry is its essence: 'Poetry i.< the saying of the uncnnce:~ledness of
beings.'" Wbat is expres>cd in language is the original unity of names
and lhiogs, the primordial source where meaning and being are
undivided. 'Language', Heidegger wrilel') in his lnln:uButio!l lfJ
Metllp/tysia, 'is the primordiAl poetry in which a people speaks
"being".'" To live.properly is to &vc poetically, rapt in the mystery of
Being, knowing on<!5elf to be ill< humble ventnloquist. In 'The Origin
of the Work of Art', it is th• artefact itself which has now become the
obedient 04 or 'there' ofBeing, the sacral locus of its self-disclosure.
This nolto say that Heide~r has much time for otsthetics in it•
classical seru;e. In ' A Dialogue on Language', he dismisses such

301
 d iscourse as irredeemably metaphytical, bound up ~ith the whole
di!iettdited problem.. tic uf repre!ent..t.ioo. :: T t.e ea!'ly Heideg~er may
be s11id to return in."itt;ad tu the: sesrhc:tit: in its urigin~tl Haum"'"rtt:nian
meaning - t<> a concern with tlu.t rotKrc1e life-world which
hennrneutk:d Jlltt:numclllll"l,;Y !:Jkt,. :L'i the ...:euJre uf i l'i t:HlJuiry. Jf
there b an 'l1cstherics 1 in Bt.ing muJ 1imr, it ~ just thio; r.r.r:o,:nidon of
the inductsbk worldliness of aU meaning, the fact that we .ut ~w.ays
nlreacty pitch('(! mtn c.h" mic:lsJ nf fhin&"~ t:"<pcnendng thr. wurld em
our bodies before "'-c come properl)· ro ftJnnuLue il in our heads. To
' k.t1ow' is ro rupture aOO estnmge dut sponuneous «lmmerce with
nhict:ts which UU f butlil)· strut:JUI'c: l~ lrt:l.'s UfJUn u:o., autl v.ltit:h will
rerum co sat\lratc out thinking in an ;~pprQPriatc 'mood•, since for
H eitlcl:"',:.'l:r ahc::rt: uu1 bt! nu muudlt:S.!> Lhuu;ghl. .'\II dat i~ richesL aud
mon positive in H ddc~r·~ philosop)ly ilr.rws fTom 1hi!) profiJund
mat~ri.1lism~ responsible. as it is for so much o!'the depth. im2gin.uh•e
tenili~ and nd\'enmrO\IS origh1:1lhy nf &iur. tnui Tmu. h ill 1n 1his
earlier 'aesthetic' - in this insistence on 1hr p1'1ctical; affcn iv(", pre·
1t:flexive growul.:s of ;ill cognirion - that I lcideggcr's project <'Onsorts
tftiiSI Jlrntlut:ti,tly with tho:i4! of !\1au ami fl'eltd. It ....-ould not be
ditllcuh, for cumplc, ro trace s u~(."Siive alfinitics bt'rNeen the
:-;Lructure c;( '-.:au:t whit:h 1ypifies Duu.in and the ~·1aOOs.t con,ept of
sc.;:ial interests. 't''c:t the: pruhkm is nut oHI)· 1h:.1 thest! vt:ry same
motifs, in llcickrgu1S career as a whok. bcJ(in~ -...i th an Clltra.\':lgant
0\'er -~c:tion m F.nliglltentnt!tll r:ilionatll)' ~o~.·ltid t ~o~.• ill plwlgt: hint iutu
3 f:aSC'iidc m)1hology of :;t()Ut spt('ChJeSS I)(".:ISIIniS r~nd t~Joofly laconiC'
sages. It is also that the broader. deeper, more gcnerQus sm~t of the
llt::sl!tr.tk- uf Hi'irl)', ;md ·;;·me ..:u · l~biLs ull alo.:.s ""'iltt a. l'l:li'HJwt:d 1 IJ(IS.t-
Baumgtrtcnian scns.;: of the tt'tnl - the aesthetic' as a uu.lqll('Jy
privilc:l!:td, aut1teutic1 sdf· Jefeftmial style of being, s!urply disrinFWshtd
frnm the rJrnhly llt.n~Ki ian. A:. u gt:neru.l Ek.ing·in· lbe-YI\JJ1d, DWi(T.R
h:u .about it somcthin« of the original, phcnomcnologic'3.1 connooation
o( the aesthetic. e\·cn i( it is budly ~ U'f'IU()us phenomenon. i1 inh1biu
the realms uf lin: ;.atler;;ljn~ :~od 500l:.lliC. is ooarktd l>y its bioJogic:al
finimde. a.ml runs up again.;! a d t:!L"iily iu things irr~ucible to) S.O!\te
abttract rcasoa. At 1hc $am(' time, as • IOmt ol auctu.ontit:' self·
aGtualiz:arioo brooding upon it.s own unique' possibilities, DaJ(in
clmtain;o. murt: Lltim ;au echo of the old Romilntic subjeel, now forced
to c:ncounttr a filctidt)' wl\ich its freedom cnnnm dissolve away, hill
nonetheless bent ~n tn:uforming that 11(1)' thrownnt;;.s. rontingcocy
 THE POLI11CS OF BEING

and monality into the IITOund of its heroic scli-rccuptration. The

esoteric ond the everyday, tlte oesthetic as both solirary splendouund
mundane conduct, commingle in the very structure of Dasri•, as they
do in a diffeunt sense in Heidqger's style ofwritin!f, 'Aitb its bathetic
mixture of the oracular and the ordinary. His sl)ie is wen practised in
the device of investing humble puticuhtrs widt ontological starus,
elevating something as empirical as bad temper Into a fimdamental
st:ructure of Being. In this he anticipates the Nazi conjoining of the
c:ommonplacc and the sublime, hom~un wisdom and heroic clitisln.
'Fanennes.< inro ~,u and a losmess prolcimally and for !he most
part in Mitsn"' might be his description of a tea-brtak. On the one
hand, this device impresses with its demotic Oavour: how liberated of
philosophy to sloop for its Slllple themes to hammers •nd forest paths
- to allow you, as lite excited young Sanre wos to realize, to do
philosophy by ulklng about the ash rny. On the other hand, lhese
modest bits and pieces of the world win their new-found ontological
dignily only at ihe cost of being Yiolendy naturalized, frozen to
permanent lixtuus. The mundane is m)1hologized m lhe pred<e
extent to which philosophy i!Jlll""I'S to climb otT its pedestal. QUOiing
Heidegger's beUef that philosophy 'belongs right in the midst of the
labour of farmers', Adorno remarks that one would like at least to
know the farmers' Upinion of that.,.
\\'bat will happen in Heidegger's later work is a steady convergence
ofthese two senses of the aesthetic, such that Being in general comes
to the fore, but now imbued with all lhe mysterious privilege or the
aesthetic In the more spedallzed Romantic sense. But since Being is
everything, the more gene111l sense of the aesthetic is retained: the
whole world is noo.· an artclllct, a sclf-susbtlnlng play of sheet
becoming. In Bang a•d r,.., DMtin was the final reference p<Jint. for
all things but an end in itself; now this self-reference is projected into
the wbolc of Being, wltose autonomy Dartin merely exists to give
voice 10. o.u.;,. no longer mans its JXirticular difference from other
essents in having its end in itself; it is just the ckoring uf ligllt which
reveals this robe true of an other bcinp as well The whole of Bciag
Is thus •estbedci2ed: it i• the •utotelic, eternally unfinished unfolding
which we observed in the early Dasri1t, but without the anguished,
time-ridden, L'risis-rocked natore of that doomed phenomenon.
Beillg, like the work of 311, combines freedom and Mces.<ity: it is a
kind of !ITOURd of an thing", and SO gi\'CS them the law, bat since it
303
lacks any groundedness il•elf it is also a son nf non-ground of pure
freedon-.. a game which simply plays irself out. If Bciog is
acsthctidzed in this """Y· so is the lhougbt which thinks it, which bas
no result ot effect and simply 'satisfies its essence in that it is'."
Pbilooophy is more like prJ}'ing than proposing: it is sacred riiUal
rather than Se<'lliar analysis, grounded in the ve-ry Being to which it
rcrums perpetual homage and graliNde. In KDnl andrh< l'robltm of
M<tJJ{Iiryncs, Heidegger argues that cog11ition for Kant is primarily
intuition, that the undcrstandin' is in the ""nice uf s<ruibility; and
his ""''D aestheticizing of thooghr re111ms him in effect to Fichle and
SchtUing> whose 'absolute ego' or •state of indifference' are Hkt'W'ise
ancmprs to tnnscend the subject- object duality.

If Being and thought are made ae<thetic maners in Heidegger, so also

in a sense is ethics. There csn be no questioo of trying to produce a
COIICme ethics, a project "tuch belongs with meupbysical rationalism.
Etht1S, we are in.'itnlcted in the Ltttu tm Humanism, means <abodet or
'dwelling pblce', and so con be ins01ndy subsumed under Heidegger-
im ontology. Tbt true law is that of Being itself, oot some nu:rely
human fabrication of rules. But this "'duetion of ethics to ontology is
rnade pvssible in d1e forst place because Heidegger has <-overtly
projected nonnam-c categories into Being itself, while intmcdiately
era.<ing this gesture. Truth is inherent in the essen"" ofthings. so that
flltJhcia or the act of disclosing them is at onc'e a question uf fact and
value. Tile descriptive and the evaluati\'e are beld together in the
word 'Being': what is most significant about an object is simply what it
;,, Dasem. similar!~, is horh fiiCt and v.Juc: that it should comprehend
Being is at once just pan of the kind of thins it is and an impticitly
er.hical injunction, warning Dmtin against its tendency to oblivion.
Such equivocation is made possible by the vagucnt:SS of sU<h phrases
as 'comprehending Beinr', which are in one sense straightforwardly
de.<criprive (undenuandiJ:>g what thing< are) and in a001ber seose
loaded with a whole normati"" freight of being enraptured by the
mystery ortbe world. Being itself is on the one band just what is, but
on the other band contains its own enluative distinctions and
hierarchies: 'If Being is to disclose irself', Heidegger remarl"' in the
lnlto<hictio• lo .Mtlap/tysia. 'it must illidf have and mainrain a rank.'"
It is Being's internal diffcrenliation which determines the divisions
between individual hwnan b,ings as srrons or weU, masterful or
 THE POLmCS Of' BLII<G

open to being commanded. O.ing, ""' HeW.gger c.>mtantly str<.<ses,

is at once remote and near to hand: it is that to which only a fortunate
elite are summoned, yet is as simple and self-a·ident a • pair of
shoes ora waV< ofthe sea. Being is e.erywbere, which is its humble or
'popular' aspect, but it is so much everywhere that. we constantly
forger It, so that It becomes the most rate, fragile, obscure reality of
all. Hearlening to its imperi(ltls call is at once just port of what we ore
and possible only by dint of strenuous decision- a paradox implicit in
the Hcldeggerlan doctrine that we must actively aU<I\\· things just to
be thernsek-es, resolutely liberate them into whar they already are. It is
as though Da.<in 's task is to be the energetic di:icloser and ank-ulaior
that cancel• ltllelf at e"ry moment and permiu the world to appear
with the kind of pristine splendour it would have had if we had not
bt-cn there to perceive it. Dauirr is thus granted a rentnlity with one
hand only to be humbled "ith lhe other: it represenu a sort of violent
intrusion into the sanctuary of Being, but one •bsolutely essential for
Being's coming to presence. The only way that Beillg C2l1 be
disclosed is by something that also forgets and co\'Crs it up, so thai the
tight of human understanding continually dorkens and impoverishes
what it reveals, ptooides a place for this revclalicm to occur but- since
his always a partial, panirolar pbce- c:~nnot help falslf)ing the "<'I)'
thing it brillgs to light. Being thus cannot be near without also being
remote, for Dastin is bound to distaoce and disfigure it in the very act
of unC<>Ocealing IL
Falsehood is thus inherent in Being, but this is no ethical
judfement. To make falsehood intrinsic to Bclng is to make It simply
part of what Being fae11Jafly is, and so 'nllur.ol' and un~lanning. The
dudcctic of travc.stying and tmfolding is g~~tln:n:d into Bcinr itself,
whidl, aa it v.oere, putS out Its own false appearance alongside its true
essence in a ce:aseless ironic rhythm. This relieves Dastin of the
guilt of conc.:alillJ Bcinr. as weU as underlining the sublime depth of
the lana. lkins cuts the shadow of ill own illlirutc plenitude over
any partic:ular sift nf iuelf In humanity, and so i< reassuringly
transcendent of its actual incom:nions. As Heidegger writts in T11e
!!Ju>iim c{&in:; 'Properly considered, oblivion, the oonccalmcnt of the
st!U unm>ealed beinr ('lertal) of Being presems untoodlcd treasures
and is the promise of a find which is only waiting for the proper
search."' The 'falsity' of Being is thus a kind of self-protective de>icc
on its part, a war of aloofly widtholding Its rldles at the very moment
305
of communicatiJlg them, l'llller as the &<i• of Bting lUid Tim< is
alr02dy in the act of mO\ing beyond an object to its Being in the very
moment of oopiziog il Being is gnndly disdainful of its humble
human servant yet wholly wrapptd up iti him; and in this way
Heidegger c:m press to an extreme the de<..,ntring of the human
subjc:ct only partly achieved in JUs early ,.·ork, while celebrating a
preordained harmony between Being and humanity. La~r Hddeg-
geri:m ldan is in one sense more decentred, in another sense more
centred, than he was in the earlier writing.
If the ethical Is thus dissolved away in the post-Kdm Heidegger, so
is it in DriNg Qtf(} T'mu:. Autin d~ere may be mOSily inaulht:nlio:, but it is
proper and necessary that i1 should be so. 'Error is the space in which
history unfolds', writes Heidegger in the 'An,mmander Fragment';'•
Da:stin's oonslanl self-obli•iou:s straying into d1e everyday world
confronts it wilh just that essential weight of faelicity it must sai,·e
ugairu.t in the struggle to b~ome its own author. By defdy r"'-i<oning
error into uuth, faUenncss into redemption, /king 4nd 11m< dccoo-
SU'Ucts the antagonism between them and so protects itself at once
from nihilism and hubris, despair and presumption. Thr uld st'lf-
aulhoring subject has fallen oo bard times, but is still alh·c and
kic~. To squander oneself in tbe world is a matter of inauthenlicity,
but olso a perfectly valid S1ructurc of one's being. There is an
equivocatiun bere once again between fact and value: IkurJCn 's 'c:aing'
is iD one sense the sheer fact of its invol•·•mem with thinp, in anolh<r
sense 3 judgement on how dangernusly liable it ;., to deviate fmm
itself, and in • thin! sense an essential put of its authentic
resoluteness. Similarly, 'authenticity' is dearly at one level a
IIOIJDiltive judgem<:nt, but as 3 question of re3lizing one's indmdwl
possibilities it is also no more than a kind ofbecuming wbat one is.•'\s
an injunction, it urges one simply to be oneself, ,.ithout any panicular
moral directive, and so ha~ the empty forrnolism of aU existentialist
ethics. As long "" the possibilities one actualizes are one's own
inalieruble propeny, It i• apparently a mancr of indifference whJt
they consist in. Heidegger's subject is thus the fonnal, abstract
individual of market SCJciety, drained of ethical substance and left only
with the notional 'self' as a value.ln the lnrroillldi4niPMaaplrylia, he
is no12bly cun with any talk of 'values': much of what has been
published on the topic, he remarl<s, is a distortion and dilution of the
'inlier ll'Uth and greamm' of Nationa.J Socialism. His bluning of fact
306
 THE POLITICS OF BFli<G

and value is ideologiC211y essential: by fudging the distinction be can

cling to an elitism of authenticily without op<nly committing himsdf
to nonnatm. criteria, which would be to lapse back into the merely
'•ubjectM•t' perspective he seeh to transcend. Every ..tuing, he
writes in the Lctt<r on Humanism, is a subjectivizing. Without some
sttong implicit normatiYity thm: could be no critique of the all.enated
•·•orld of pranle and nu.ss opinion, not lo mention of science,
democrncy, liben lism and sociolilim; but for Htideggcr's work lo
have 11'\le authority it must go beyond mere drJxJJ to describe things as
they really are, dnw its title to speW.. from the very nature of Being
itself rather than sink into COIItrO¥ertiblc iorerpretations. It is in this
sense that a disrourse ofwhat D~~ttin plainly and simply is operate.~ at
the swne lin~< as a rhetoric of moral Cldlortation. The unspoken
tragedy of &iog ""' Timt is that there can be no transcendence
without error, no freedom without its abuse. The movement by which
Dasein mU\"es beyond particular things to their Beine is inscpanble
from the way it ean slip restlessly, illauthentically, from this to that.
This deadlock or :1poria will later be violently resolved by gr.r..ping
Being less as that from which humanity em , than as that which em
from itself lhrough humanity as pan of its own necessity. And this is
just another way of saying that there can be no 'real' error at all.
Devi.arlng from the path is jll!t a way of foDm.ing it, tod the paths
through a wood are in any case crooked. Technology is a spirirual
dioastcr but abo pan of B<:ing's own inscrutable dispcnsalion. Values
are petty subjecme omarnenl:lrions on • Being which is se<:retly
normative through and through. Freedom disrupts the old settled
pieties of earth, but nothing can escape such euth·boundness in any
use, and all appannt freedom is bondage to Being.

'By vmue of . . . reliabilil)l', Heidesger writes in the l..aur .,.

Hum4nimt, 'the peas.tnt woman is made privy to the silent coU of the
eanh; by virrue of the reliability of the equipment she is sure of her
world ..., In 1882, seven years before Heidegger's birth, 42.5 per cent
of the Gennan people !11!11 made their li\ing by agriculture, foresuy
and .fishery, whereas only 35.5 per cent were engai"d in indllitr)',
mining and building. By 1895, when Hcidegger .,.,. a .,.u child, the
latter occupations had already outstripped the former; and by I 907,
when Heidegger WIIS • stucknt, 42.8 per cent of the Get"lll2D
population worked in Industry and only 28.6 per cent on the land."
307
Heidegger's early life, in brief, wiiJ\eSses the decisive tr:lllSition of
Germany from a largely rural to a mainly indusuW $0Ciety. It is the
p<riod in which G=y grew to become the leading industrial
capitalist state in Europe, doubling its international trade between
1872 and 1900 and cltalleogiog Brilain's supremacy in world
marl<ets. Dy 1913 Gennany had ovcml:cn Dritaln as a producer of
steel and pig iron, supplied three quarter.~ of lhe world's synthetic
dyes and swpassed all oompetitors in lhe expon of electrical
equipment Under the proreclionist and state•intenentionist policies
of Bismarck, the German economy had expanded rapidly in the lamr
decades uf the nineteenth century, despite p<:riods of deprn-sion and
falling prices. Cartels and joint stock companies dominated eoonomlc
life, and major credit banks were key ir>Stitutions in capital investment
for industry. Germany grew remarkably in chemical products,
shipbuilding and above all in lu electrical industries; a Customs
Union, a SOtuW state-built cot.r~munications lnfrastructure draconian
1

anti ·socialist measures and govenunent stimulation of commerce

transformed lhe face of German society in an astOnlsblngly brief
period of time." By 1914, the country had joined the ranks of the
leading world trnden and was expanding its overseas commerce more
rapidly than any of its rivals. Heidi:Jller's idyllic counlr)~idc was also
bei.~g <p<e<lily rewped: agriculture, swiftly expandln! alongside
industry, "'"'s being nationalized :ond scientifically remodelled, wilh
the application of new business and technical methods at its most
inten.,;.e on the large esutes. Meanwhile, bcncalb this flurry of
ino011atioo, land remained pan:eUed into big and medium-sized
famu, s6ghdy more lhan one fifth great estates and the rest the
smallholdings of lhe peasantry. Hcideggcr's sturdily independent
Slllllll farmer was on unl)'piatl, increasingly marginalized phenomenon:
p<asants with paltry smallholdings often bad linle opportunity to eke
out their meagre lnings through work for big landowners, and
illlporu:d farm labour seriously jeopardized the position of the
Getman farm workers. They migrated, often enough, tO the cities, to
.....,u the ranks of the industrial proletariaL Conditions there were
frequendy di.-. : long hours, low wages, unemployment and poor
housing were the price the Gennao working class peid for the
industrial capitalist boom. The state laid on social welfare, wilh an eye
to weanln! the working da.<;S &om lhe Social Democrat party, then
the largest socialist party in the world. In 1878 the RtithJtag moved

J08
:.tg:iiliSt this rl(J(il i~aJ threa1, haiUiing the )):UI) aud suppn:s..;ing ito;
newspapers.
While l lddeggtr W'a5 cherishing his dreams of an ontologic1l1y
OOl'rtl':l pt;asantr)·, G t:mulny bad efna:rgl!'ll uu the hasi~ ul 1 puliticai
unity of Pruss.itn.lunlo:trdom and Rhenish capital into a ncv.· Empire,
the iundameotal structure of whit h. w:as distincci\'cly CApitalist. A ne"
du:;s ur indu...,;triaJ lfUIIG.' ''IVIIX n'ck«'S, n u1nbctins sornc spet:IJM:tlll!.ri)'
wttJthy indl\'iduals, $hot tbe nation into the league: of the five richest
u ·1uutrie!.. Yet if d1i"" ~,;I:.L(;!o ":t" selling- tht: t•:u:c uf eL:iMmrnic
d e,:elt:l(l m~~.mt, ir was rloiog so tmd('r the sllndow of the still powerftd
old !'russian n~ing russ. gladly embncing ils authoritarian $Upr<macy
as an antidote to social unrest The ntores ;and l1fe-style of tbt
traditio:tal Junkers proridrd 1t mod<-1 lOr bourgeois t mula.tioo:
•"Ca)tby merchants -and induscrialists a$J>ircd in En.gtish fashion to
SJ(J:t:;t:SS laudnl t:sla l~:s uml mimic tJn: nuhilily. ' ll 1c nohilit)'.fi,r thc:ir
pt~n, were coming to rcco~ the industria] bourgeoisie as 1hcit OWl'!
economic bast, and the stalt W<~tS t al(el' to ptofuc::te its Corium~ in
tariff nnd bOOur pnlic:ie~. The new ( if:rmnny, 1h1m1 w:as :1 capitlllisr
social formation, but 00( deeply marttd by its ftudal bm1.1gt. 'l'hc
officer corps of the army swore fealty directl)' to lhe [mptror, ..hilt
1he Jmprrial <.:hanceltor was not rtSponsible to \h(o &idt>liJI,
Ocmused by rhis hybrid SI)Cicty, in whic;h an autocratit traditio1U.lis1
stoUt: for•utd l11e (il..f'UI.lill-:e fur industrial L'Upitalist dt'<c:i<•rnm:nt, 1hc:
Marx of the Critiq11~ r.f tlu GDiha Pr.>trommt threw at iJ a.s IMDY
formulas as he could ooustel': Distnar('ki• u GennaJl)' was 'n.Jtbing but
:1. putk:t!-e,'tl:lnled miti1ary d.-spntis.m, r.m~Ui shed \ltith parti:tmenury
forms. alloyed with a ft'udaJ a<lnili1urt. alrn<iy influe nced by the
bourgcoisi<, furnished by dte burcO\U(I'Olcy . . .':4 Less o:unbi"akntly,
Engels r~cognized chat d\c n<-w Gennany, Yo'hatt\'t r its pOlitical and
cultural pec-uliarities. had joined lhc ranks of the fully· fledged
c-apitalist stules. n
The depth and Yirulcncc of ~nscrv,ti\'C rtaction in the Germanv
of !kiNg iwJ Tiw may be see)) itt largt J)tlrl a.,;, a rt::.~tiun 1u 1t;
peculiarly tr.;,u,..M~ic t:mcr~t:nc~ nf induo;trial capitalism, spn.mg IS it
was o;o :w.ifrfy ffom rhc; l(lins of oM-world Prussia. Bot ~1ch ~action
was also n urtur.zcl by thoc: $0<ially amorphous nature of the sociel)'
which had come to bitth- b) dtt: pc:n>ililt:nu: within ituf "'tmng feudal
elt:alf lds 1 the :ttubhurn :.-urvival of nma.li:;r i d.::ol ~t:s and. m(l')( vittllly.
(b~ lilct that German industrial capirali.<sm had W:e:n shape partly as a
 stare-spon$Ored affair, l"ithoul brinJing ""i lb i1 a. flquris.bin.g m.id.cDe-
class bberal tr3ditjoo, Defore the "'·riting of IJt:ir.J< anJ lime; Gt:nnany
had ~dso passed tluougb h.urnilis.tin,g rnilltary ccmqucst. social a nd
«Onomi<: dcvas.tation and an :.~bortive social rt:volution. \A'h creas
Nit:lzScln:, ill au c:arlit!f ';tagt: nf ricmlli n l'U)"'i talk;r dcvclnpmcnc, pits
the image of a vigoroos nobility apin.!l an in<rt bourgcoisu:.
Heid t:g:scr. :il a lah!'J' plla...:c: uf inlJlt:ri:tl expamu..n :md n::c;hnologicnl
dominarioo, n~rns t•) the idea of Gtl.1tSc'ttlui;· oi a wisely passlve
'releasemcnt' of things.• a ' 'igiJanl, cir~umspect rcfu»l to m edclle with
1hei..r be iog. oi whicb aesthetic e.(petienc~ OliJtJears pn•lut)'f'K:III. T his
SWI CC , wh~ch Heid e~tr shares with U. H. b.wre n~ oonuins a
potent C't jikism of Ealigblenmem t'llti<m:d.ity: (or all hi.-. sr:utenticms
ruralism, Hc: idcg:~r:f h!!:-. mUI:h nf impmum:c {fl SIIY ~bom lhC'
\'iolcnct. of meraphys.i<:al thougf1t, and hi! sense !>fa meditati\>t. 'being
"'·ith' thin!,rs. :Jtlc:mling rc,,;punr;.iv.~}', nl)n-masreringly tO rh.eir sh:~pts
and tC:~nl f(S, iind;c a ,·:tiuab!C' echo in .SOR\t( contemporary feminiS't
and eooiogKaJ politiC'S .
In t.JII t: ~1St:, the pruhlcrn uf sudl a pc:r~pecliVl-: io;. 1hut i1 rc:dut:r:'i
both pOlitics and e thics to onto10lt''• and so strikes them empty: the
('bilosophy of Ikif1g , u( :; ~~·~·eul llj iC."IltteSS llt things in tl1 t:ir
pa..rti..:ulariry, <.11rrics "~<irh ir no dirr:crivcs :thQI.U how unc is tn t:hoosc,
act a nd discriminate. IrooiCJ.Lly, it i.s thertiore as abstr.tct as the \'tf)'
th mrghtlh:t.t u ur•p.>SP.~ k."\·dhng :md hcJmugr.ni:.tJng ir. ill' 1Unt. Tf llflt:
shou!d allO\\' rK.cs to subsis[ in thdr unJqu( mock ofbcing. \\':,~· noc
t)phoid a. well/ In another sense. tbis philosophr of Dcif\1! is far too
l111U..Telr. and :ifll'L;fK; ff1r i~ mm gnucl, c~Judins 1111d t.lis...Timioalin.;
with iu own peculiar brand of \·iolmce: Being is as iotcrruilly
tliO'ert:nli:J.t.t:d :as 1Jn: suci:al rankiugs 11( th ~ faf.('ixtic Slane, a!td ill the
1930s i;.OCJ1C3 for a rime: fO be inc~ marc in rhc Fii.hrn. Hc:id,::g:gcr
swings with a minimum ()f mediation between the 11ebuiously
untottll:,-M:at ::anti 11lc .sinisterly o;pt:dfic:: tht: disunc.:li(HI bctwten :a
':tmr.crn wirh Hr.ing ~nd a mere JHl,'JK:\;uparinn wilh heinxst su the
l•rlm..f~tttitJM Iii M(f4,kyJia s1.1~1 s. is the (f.lnFr.lsr b<'tv.'ecn thr-
historic. mi.st;ion of the c~an JloiJ: and the technological positivism
nf the l JSA :md thf! S..wi e( ( Jninll. .o\s 3 way uf lifr:. Gtiils.~~n.J 1~ buth
KeaBiaD and cmen- a fertile rcccpti,ity tl) obiccts on 1hc:: nne hand ,
a cringing docility before the nwniri(IUS power of Beiag 0t1 the othc:r.
Th~: huhrislic hmn:tlll!>l !lubj;t(.t ill propt:rly dislodged (rom lcs 'o'irile
pn:-cmi_lll~nc:c;, hm tmfy tn ado1u tt.e :.r:m1 c :u;qui~t:.coct! uf lh~

310
I3Ckc)·· Hcidmu's phUosophy e>cmpliJies ooe dcotination ol the
jdca ot the aesthetic' in the rwentietb century: as a n lling class in grilve
cMis dls<::o"ered in the disint~rcsted.ncss of Being 1hc very discourse
it rr.c 1 ui~ rn mystif)' il!> uwn ruthln:dy tnstrumenu l :.cti\•iJ:;.
The: main currents of Hcidql(cr's work can be highlighted by ?.
cootraM with the thought o( that other f..udn sympathittr, PauJ de
,\\:ln. H ei tle~r lli!Yt':r unr.•Jni,.ucally n:t::mtr:d his N:J:n p:...'it; and thr:
reason wby he 0('\l(r rtcaDtcd was pcrtl~s hccanS(. he nt"V'Cr
ctpented. De ~1an remained silent about his: own affiliations>to be
e:\posed rmly affer his death. It is pos.'>ible 10 read de Man'li post-war
work as an cxrrcmc reaction against the politics orBting, d ementS of
.... hicl1 he: him~>tl fh:uJ espoused in lli!i omorious e:.atly eu::.ays. 111 the
)aocr<lc Man, aUnotions of langua.g-c ss rr:ptctc wirh Hdng, uf sisns •s
organic-ally related to things, .are denounced u pemicioua mysrifica~
tions. H eic.kgger's :tpuc:tlyprit: cum:t:plinn ur a ldenlugia::al Lime!'
brimmJn~ wllh dfsdny is st~adily <lraint'd by c.k Man to •he cmpry.
broken lemporality of aJiq;:ory. TrU1h and authenticity, .u in
H eide~tgtr-'!i \li'ork, are seen ineluctably w invtm-e blindness anc.l error,
but a growing emphasis on ~ larter is pressed to a polot of bleakty
disillusioned !iCeptidsm >A'h kh tht·eatens to rob the whole concep[ of
truth nf irs prorlucli\1:neo;s. t\rt is nu lunr.cr tht: lot.:w ,,j· truth aud
Being: its high pririJege is rather to ~ the place where an
in ~r:u1it:tthle e-rmr :mtl tldusiun an: lin:dly able ll'l n:um: dleaoseht!O:
for what they art, in a negatirc ,·crsion of Hcidcggcrian ar;sthctics.
Th~ subjcc;t, as with the later I leidcj;8'Cr, i$ an eiTec.t of language; but
this lOr .Jc: Mun nle-an!' il i:. less a filith(ulvt-JHitloquist oi Bcing than ;a
''·acllOU$ ficrion, the pr<~duct of a duplicirous rhetoric. All grounds,
wtities., identitit:s, tfanscendanAll signiftc-.ations and nosra.lgit: )'caruinp
fOr origin 3rc nllhlt:~ly undnnc: hy lht mnvcmt:nl ul' iruuy anc.J Ihe
undeddabk. An)' hiot of metaphorical orgtnicism~ in sdf, history or
si!;l)~ i.s u ndermined by llte bliftd, :a.ltalfl'l) '-''OI'k.ing of <l mecbaJlistic
mcn:mr my. In :aU nf thr.sc W:l)', dl.· Man's tati'!T "'ork l':!ITI br. read a."' 21
consiuent polernic apins-t the aesthetic, which has now com( to
enc;ompass all thtorit s of a purposive, mc.-ningful history; and this
poJem.ic blends well iD irs Stole Ascericism widl .m end..()f..icleologies
era.ar. The impulx bthind dt ~11m's \'arlol.d thoomica.l hostilitks is
so intense and unremitting rhat it is not dirlicult to discern in ito:s more
th2n literary mrnt\'t:.

Jll
 When philOS<Iplry turns posilivist, the aeslhetic is OJ> hand 10 come to
the rescue of thought. The mighty tlu:mes evaCU2red by a "'itied,
purely calculalive rarionality, now oonsele&< and \':>grant, seek for •
roof under which to sbclrer, and diSCU\·cr one in the discourse of art.
Ifthat diS4:0UISC is now called upon ro play the magisterial role '1\ilich
philosophy as such has obondoned - ifit must return an answu to the
question of the meaning of oistcnce, along with the question of the
significance of art- then it must expand its horizx>n. up its own swus
and oust philosophy from its 1rnditional SO\·ereignty. It is thus that
Nieasche and Heidesgerretum 0\'Cr me heads ofMa"' and Hegel to
ScheUing, '1\-ho held mat phQOOllphy hod attained its acme in art. ~
more conventional thought seetllS 10 do no awre than reOoct an
aHenared social e:xistcnce, the more urgcmly, and desperately, tills
flight from reason to poeay gothen; force. Out if <ncb a recourse
marks the true limits of a debased rationality, it also suggt>ls, most
e>idendy with Hcidegger, lhc solace wllich in an increasingly opaque
socr..t order a disi.nherited group of ideologues may find in • few
apodietic truths, TOOled in an ontology so profound as to be uhinmcly
ineffable, and thus incontrovertible. The appeal to Being, like me
moral sense ofBriti!>h Enfightenment theory, is at once a oonfession
of intellectual bankruptcy and a rhetorically powerful affair. It is
unutterably mon: fundamenul and self-evident than orthodox
philosophical thought, returning us reli.,.edly to that which, beyond
aH social complexity and conceptual obfuscation, we feel we simply
.hroo>; yet it admits us In the satru: gesture to the inner sanctum of the
sages, whose insight ;., rare enough 10 penetrate through C\'ery
routiNzed discourse of ratiooality ro wllat really matters. Being, in a
f2mlllar Zen paradox, i5 at once ranl211zlngly elush>e and absolutely
self- evident; only a pious peasa.nl or mandarin professor could
possibly grasp it. Lilc the Wittgcnsrein with whom he bos often been
compared, Heideggor rerum• us exacdy to where we are, leaving the
wllolc structure of cverydayn<-ss comfortingly in plare, but allOW> us
to do so in the llattering knowledge !hat we are consequently in on me
deepest conceivable m)'Siery.
If Heidegger is able to di5miss the aesthetic, it is only because he
hos in effect universalized it, transgreulng the frontiers between an
and existence in a reactionary parody of the ll<NIRI gank. Liberated
from its specialized enclave, the aesthetic can now be •pread over the
wllole of reaHty: an is what brings things to be in their essential truth,
312
 nil: POLmCS Of BEING

and so is identical with the very movement of Being. Art, Heidegger

claims in his lectures on Niettsche, must be conceived of as the basic
happening of being<, as the authenric:illy creative IUI'Wemenr. Poeh)',
art, language, truth, thought and Being thus converge in his later
work imo a single rtalil)·: Being is the upholder of beings, language
the essence of Belt~, and poetry the essence of language. Eoch
dimcniion shines with radiant immediacy through lbc olhcr: Jansuagc,
which like flOCII'Y speaks only itself, ncvertheku discloses the
unmediatcd truth of Being in that very oct The aesthetic fur
Heideggcris less a question of an than a way of rebdog to the world -
a relation which fatalistically accepts even tlte 'untruth' of that world
as a gracious dispensation of Being, and which leaves the human
subject rapt in paralytic reverence before a numinous presenc:c wllich
the conto!pt wuuld only defile .
If a respectful communion with Being, disowning an thought of
dominalioo, might appeor to be stercotypically 'feminine', Being itself
in Heideggcr .,.·ould seem eucdy the opposite. It appears in his
writing in maay gulsts: h is Nothingness, a pair of peasant shoes, the
pure movemenl of temporality; as that bigherdestioy which summons
the foil implacably to self-sacriliec, it wears for a whUe the features of
Adolf Hitler.'' Yet buried beneath all of these images is a more
ancient, uncannily filmiliar one, at onoc infonitely remote and
intimately close. In the lntroduaio!f to Mtuplr.y•ia, Hcidcsger argues
that P"rliculor objects were seen by the ancienl Greeks as a kind of
'falling away' from an originuy fullness of Being, a 'tipping 0\'ef'
.,·bich contrastS with Delng's own steadf..t 'uprightness'. The Greek
p!ty,is, so he claims, originally meant • 'stonding fonh' or 'collling to
stand', that which unfolds, blossoms or arises. Being is a kind of
~uning forth', and this uprightness or 'erect st:mding there' is a
permanent one., an unfolding which will ne-ver faU down.
It would seem that this oldest of an slatld-bys is in<kcd olways
ready-to-lland.

N•us

I Manin Hc:idcsscr, Dis""'"' .. Tllirt.ti"{ (New York, I %6), p. 66.

2 Manin Heidceger, Nimtdlt (London. 1~31), p. 109.
3 Martin H<ideggor. I<Drr.t a..t l~r PtrJHml of Mt14plr;tsia (llloomlnt!ton,
1962), I'· 138.

313
 4 The phnsc is William J. Richudson's, In wllar Is still dtc mOSI
map.stcrial srudy or Heldccgu: A!llllitr HtiJ'IIf': ;.,., Ph""""molf11 to
7M•I*• (The Hague, 1963). Other rdcwant srudics of Heiclcaer
inclllde j. L. Metha, Tlr• P~iiMoplry of Jl.larrm H<idttg" (New York,
1971); l.udo Venenyi, H~, Rtifll""J T...th (New Haven, 1965);
L. M . Vai~ Htii/qg(l!r •mi On"""simJ Dif!'""" (Poom.) l<aoia, 1972);
Michael Mwray (ed.), Ha~ ••J MDikno Pkilcoplry: Criti..J Essays
(N<w Hawen, 1978); Wdliam V. Spanos (td.), Mtmin Htidtgp 4nJ thr
QMnrion o/Liunuurt (BioomillgtOn, 19'79).
S Secjosq>h 1'. FeD, Hlidttl"'llfld S<trlfT:Att l:isay.,lking••lPt~«(Ncw
York, 1979), especially chaptrrs 6 and 7.
6 MUiin Hcid~. 'Lcn.er on Humanism', in David F"""ll Krell (ed.),
Mom• Hridq;p: Bcic Writinp (N<w York, 1977), p. 216.
7 See for enmp1e 'Whal oue Poet!i for?' and 'The Thing'. in M.rtU.
Htidq,gtr. Poetry, Laot:-"'t<, 'Tirout.fu, naml.ated and innoduccd by Alben
Hofs~tcr (New Yorl:, 19'71).
8 Martin Hcidcnu, /Jmri(1 aod Di/fama (New York, 1969). p. 35.
9 Krell (cd.). ,u,,;, Hti"wr: &uit Wrilingt.. p. 338.
10 Ibid., p. 335.
II ThwdO< Adorno, 'Tirr Ja-&on ofAutlmotiril)• (London, 1986), p. 93.
12 s.. fior ex:unple Hoid~, 'Langwg<:', in PIJIJry, Llmgu4g-. Tl111o&&t,
and On l4t W"J' to LIJIIlU4It (New York, 1971). For a uscrul cssoy on
HckJcnu and bncuaJt sc:c Do..Jd G. Marshall. 'The Omolor, ol'th<
Uteruy SIS~~: Nor.s wwards • Hcidcaerian Rt-vision of Semiolos.v'. in
5paTW> (eel.), Martiu HriJqz« tJJJd 1M QIID1ino of/,iuroturr.
13 M•mo Hcidtgl!er, 'The Origin of the Work of An', in Krell (ed.),
Moni~ Htillrp,g<r. R"'it Wriri11p , p. 185.
14 Hcidcaer,Au/•r~ toM~ (New Ha>'Cil, 1959), p. 171.
ts Hadcaer, 'A ow...,. t.ansu.'.
on
16 Hadcncr. '17uJ•"P" ofAIIII1mtia(1, p. S4.
in On"''w.,"' LIJIIlU4#.
17 HeldCJiU, ' Lcnu on HoJIWIIsm', ln Kr<l (cd.), Mamn Htidtfgtr. Basic
Writings, p. 236.
18 Hcidqgu, A•l011odmtitm t• Muap/lysia, p. 133.
19 Hcidqg<:r, Th QIJ<SINm •flki•g (London, 1959), p. 91.
20 Hcidqgu, ' Tbt Anaximandcr F12gment', in.E.rt()l ern• Tlri,Wn~ (New
York, 1975), p. 26.
21 KreU (eci.), M•nlo H ridqg<r. Basi< Wririnl', p. 16-1.
22 &to H aju Hulbum,A Hislury •fM.dao Cmou~n.r J840-/94S (Princdun,
1982), p. 3 70.
23 See W. 0. Henderson, 'Tirr Risto/G.,.,., l~n.J Po- IB.U-1914
(London, 1975), pp. 173ff.

3H
 n1E POLITICS OF IWNG

24 Kul Marx, 'Cridquc of the Gotha PJ»gmn~ne', In A1•n •ni Ettgt/s;

Se!UIIJ Wonb (LAllldon, 1968), p. 332 (tnnslation sliglltly mu:ndcd).
25 F. Engels, Th< Rol<of Fer« in HilWY (London, 1968), pp. 64-S.
26 Se< my coaun<211s on de Man, the so-C.Sed Yale scbool of deconstruc-
tion and the ~e:cond world war in 11u: Fuwdion t{ Criticis• ([..(Jildon,
191W), pp. 100-1.
27 For lWO inslructiYe srudies of Heideg.I{U's Nu.i.<m, see Pierre BOOJrdieu,
L 'olfiQ/ogi< J!Cii#~"' M Monin H~ (Pari•, 1975), and Victor Faria<,
llt/ikwr trlt ntJ:.ism (Puis, 1987).

315
 12

The Marxist Rabbi:

Walter Benjamin
There .,.. in~ relalillll!i betwl:en m;th, modmtism nrul munopuly
capital. Suppressed by !he varieties of Victorian rationalism during l
dle epoch ofliberal capit.ttism, 111)111 stages its dr:unatic re-entry into
European culture, with Nietzsche as one of its prophetic prec-ursors,
at !be point of mar capiraUsm's gradual mutation into 'higher'
curponttc fonns in the late nineteenth and early twentieth cennuies.
If a laisJe:::·foirr <:<;onomy is now muvinJ into mon: systemic mode•,
then there is «?merhing rccutiarly appo<ite about me rebirth of myth
- itself, as Le.i-Stnuss has taught us, • highly org:onized 'rntiunar
system - as an imaginative means of dcciphcrinJ this new social
experience. Such m)1hological !bought belongs with a radical shift in
dle whole category of the subjet·t - a rethinking which involvu
Ferdinand de Saussure as much as Wyndham Lewis, Frc...d and
Ma.nin Htidegger as weD as D. H. Lawrence and Virginia Woolf. For
it is really nu longer possible to pretend , given the transition from
market to monopoly capitalism, that the old ,;gorously ind.mdualist
ega, !he self-detennlning subject of cbMicalliberal thought, is any
longer an adequate model for !he subject's new experience of itself
Llllder these altered social conditions. The modem subjl'Ct, much like
the mythological ane,ls le<-• dle sharply individuated source ofiuown
actions d1a11 •n obedient function of some deeper controUing
stnlcturc, whi<:h now appears more and more to do its dlinking and
acring for it. It is no accident that dle theoretic.J current kn<>M~ as
stn•ctu.ralisrn has its origins i.n the epocb of modernism and monopoly
capital - that !his period wimesses a tumiag away on all sides from
the tr:ldilional phUosophy of lhe subject of Kant, Hegel and the
yOtmger MutX:, troubledly couscious as it is of the individual ns
 nit MAliXJST RABBI

am!.tituted ro its mot~ by rorc:u and processes urrerly opaque tn

everyday consciousntss. Whelher one names such implaCllble powrn;
Lan~~Jage or Being, Capital or the Unconscious, Tradition or the &•
r;ila~ Archetypes or the Destiny ofthe Wes~ their effect is to open up
a weU-nigh UDSpannable gulf between the " ·aling life of the old
befealhered ego and the true determinants of Its Identity, \fblcb are
always cxwert and ioscrutablt..
If tbe subject is accordingly fractured and dismanded, the objective
world it coolronrs is now quite impos.sible to grasp as the product of
the subject's own acti•ily. What stands over against this individlllll is a
!elf•regulative system which appears on the one band thoroughly
ratiooa!iz,d, eminently logical in its minutest operations, yet on the
other band blankly indifferent of the ntional projects of human
subjects themsck·cs. This autonomous, self-determining artefact of a
world then rapidly takes on aU the appe11rances of a second nature,
erasing its own source in human practice so as to !eem as self-
evidently given and immobaized •• those rocks, trees and mo<tntains
which are the stuff of mythoJocy.
If myth is a maner of eternal rccumnce, then lhe recurrence which
matter.; most in the sphere of monopoly capitalism is the eternal
reiUrn of the commodity. Capit21ism indeed bas a history; but the
d)namic of that de\'Ciopment, os Marx irooically noted, is the
pcop<..'lllal n:.-roation of its own 'eternal' >inlclurc. Eaoh act of
commodity exchange is at <>nee uniquely differentiated and a
monotonous replaying of the same old story. The epitome of the
collliOOdicy is thus lhc cult of fashion, in which the familiar returns
with some slight ,·ariation, !he \'cry old and the very new caught up
logetber in some Oli)'DlOronic lugjc uf identity-in-difference. It is a
paradox of modernism that ilS exhilarated sense of fresh technological
poMibilities (Futurism, Constructivism, Surrea!Lsrn) finds itself oon-
standy displaced uno some s1aric, cyclical world in which all dynamic
process seems permanently arrested. Coupled wlth thiJ Is an equally
paradoxical interplay of chance and necessil)·. From nne vicwpohu,
every continent bit of ~erience now seems secredy regulated by
some underlying struct\U'e or subtcxt (in the case of James joyce's
l]}ytJt<, the suhtext of Homeric m}1h) of which experience iuelfis the
manipulatt-.1 producL Reality is coded to its roocs, as the ephemeral
working lhroogh of some deeper logic invisible to the naked eye, and
randomness is :tccordingly banished. Yet these determining srructnres

317
are now so thorou~ly formal and abstract in their (l!letaricms that
they seem to >1Dnd at on imm~ distant.., from the realm of
sensuous immediacy, superbly autonomous of me chance combinations
of matter that they throw up; and to this e>1ent the world remains
fragmentary ond chaotic on its surfaces, a set of forruitous conjunc·
tures for which the: archccypal image is the two-second encounter at
sonu: bu.•y wbnn cto5.•-roods. This i• surely the: case with Fill•ft"Jf'
Wakt, a ttl<t which offers a minintum of mediation betwec:n its local
unit.< of signification ond me mighty Vic<mian cycles which generate
and enclose them. It is not difficult to perceive a similar dislootlion of
alxilract stnlctun: and pcr;cn;c:ly idiosyncratic partit-ular in Saussurc's
cekbroted distinction between lanpu - the uni\'ersol categories of
lauguage it>elf- ond the appllR'lltly randum, unformalizable nature of
parolt or everyday speech.
In a strange reversal or regression of historical time, capitalism's
'higher' s111ges would thus seem to return it to the pre-industrial
..·orld it has left behind - to a dosed, cyctieal, naturali:zed sphere of
relentless fatality, of which lll)th is one appropriate. figuration.
Mythological thought is commonly associated with season-baS«d,
traditional, pre-industrial society, and historic"! consciousness with
urban culture; but one has only to compare the work of Yc:us 3Dd
Joyce to s« how beaurifuDy this contrast doesn't worl<. For both art
of course deeply mythological write!'$, in an age when me most
primitive and the most sophisticated bave somehow coalesced.
lnd<-ed this is a stock formula of modem.ism, whether in the shape of
that a1avis1ic amn-prdist who is EJiot's ideal poet, the: role of archaic
nlateri:lls in art nr pS)'Chnanalysis, or the uncanny double procC$S by
,.·bich Baudelaire, in Walter Be11jamin's esoterU: reading ofhim, finds
himself gcologieally cxcavalinr me ancient in Ills restless hunt for the
oew. This 'neverchaogiog even:hangiog' world, as (!lysstl ha.< it, is
one in which space seems both fragmentary and homogeneous; and
this is the appropriate spac:c of the commodity, me frqmcnt of matter
which level• all phenomena to a common identity. The aDe!oricaJ
signifier, Benjamin remar\s, rerums in !he modern epoch a.< the
commodity;' and one might claim that it is as tbe mythological
!lignifier that it returns in the work of Joyce.
Ifmyth is thus symptomatic of a reified social condition, it is also a
convenient instrument. for making scruc of it. The steady draining of
immanent meaning from objecu clears the way for 50rnc marvc:llous

318
 THE MAIIXIST 1Wl8!

new totalization, so that in a world depleted of sipificance and

subjecliviry, myth can furnish just tho"' ordering, reductive schema.s
nc:cessary to elkit uniry from clt:los. It thus tales over something of
the traditional role of historical e>planalion at a point where historical
forms of thought are now themselves increasingly port of the symbolic
rubble, progrw~ly hoUow and discredited in the aftermath of
imperialist world war. Yet if myth for • T .S. Eliot discloses some
given pattern in reality, this is precisely not the case for Levi-Stnuss
- nor lor james joy<:c, whose textS arc comic.Uy aw:~re of the
arbitrariness of the ollegurical signif.er, and who knows that a day in
DubliD must be maik to mean the wanderings o( Odysseus, wr.:nched
into it by hermtneuric:ll violenct in w abstnce of aD)" i.mmanent
corr.,;pond<OCes between lhe two. Like lhe commodity, Joyce's
writing will selz£ on any old content in order to peJPCruate itself.
n,. early dec3des of the twentieth century wimess a search for
ever mon: formalized models of social c:q>lanation, from Slructural
linguistics and psycboaN!ysis to Wlagcnstcln's TriUtllnu 111d tbe
Hussernan tt'~; but rbese are i.n tension with an anxious turning back
to 'the things thcmsdYc>', -...itcthcr in this alternative di~rn:nsion of
Husserli3n phenomenology or in that romantic pursuit of the
irreducibly 'lived' which sw•"''s from Gennon Lebrosphil,uphie to
emerse somewhere in the doctrines of Stmliny. Perhaps, then, it is
myth which can provide the missing mediations betwten the over-
formalized on the one hand and the myopicaUy potticulat ou tl•e
other, between that which thrutcns to elude language in irs abstract
universalil)' und th3t which slips through the net of dU;coun;e in irs
ineffable uniqucnus. Myth wuuld then figure as a retuoo of the
Romantic symbol, a reim·ention of the Hegelian 'concrete universal'
in which every phenomenon is secredy inscribed by a uni-.ersal law,
and any time, place or identity presnmt wilh lhc burden of lhc oosmic
whok. If this can be achieved, then • history in crisis might once
more be rend""'d stoble and signilicunt, ret-oostinated as a set of
hierarchical planes and correspondences.
This, however, l• more e.~sily said than done. It is uue th3t a ncm:l
like U/yms, in which every apparently random particular opens
micmcosmically Into some poncntous wm·ersal, might be seen in one
sense :as Sland3rd Heg.:liao !\tUff. But this would surcly be to overlook
the enormous irony with which this is accomplished - the way in
which. this paranoid touliry gcsrures to Its own arti6ce In its very
319
pokerfaced exhnustiveness. The sweated Flaubertian labour needed
to brinJ off suet. a toartkfrm~. a labour kept steadily before OW' pzc,
ben-ays the fictive or impossible nature of the whole enterprise and
contains the seeds nf it' awn di'i."iilutinn. For iJ a world of intriCOite
symbolic correspondences is to be constructed, some lUnd of
mechanism or switch-gear wiD be neceswy by which any one
element nf reali!)l can become a signifier of anolher; and there is
clearly no natural stopping place to this play of allepical signific1Jion,
this endless metamorphosis in which anything can he alchemically
com·ened into anything else. The symbolic system, in shon, carries
within it the forc:<:S of illi own <kcoostruction - which is 10 say in a
different idiom that it operar.,; very mucll by the logic of that
commodity form which is rnrdy responsible for lh• chaos it hopes to
transcend. It is the commodity fo rm which at once fashions some
spurious identity bem~n ~ objectS and generates an UIIStlble,
Open- ended Oux wluch dt..... lens to OOJttuD aU such SLTUpuJousJy
imposed >')'111Rlctry. If a day in Dublin can be made meaningful
through its aBegoricalalliance with a classical text, could not !he S3rnc
be equallf dooe for • day in Bamsley or lhe Bronx? The ltxtual
>'lntegks wbidt invcsl a particular time or place with um.•ontcd
cemraliry, ridding it of its randomness and contingency, do so only to
rerum the whole of th;at contingency to it. In this sense the
compliment which J oyce pays to Ireland, in inscribing it so
unforgettably 011 the international mtp, Is of • distinctly backhanded
kind. To pmilege any particular <>'Perience, )'0'1 mu~ refer it to a
Structure which is always elsewhere; but this equivalendag of the two
realms in question is enough to rob both of lhem of lheit
di<tinctiveness. Allegory is in this sense S)mbnlism run riol, pressed
to a self-undoing e>:tmnc; if anything can now fulJi.l the role of a
'concrete universal', nothing k particularly remarkable.
Jranywhere i5 everywhere, then you can scn"hhte away in Trieste
without ever having· left Dublin. Mod<!rnism, as Raymond Williams
has argued, is among other things a runmag battle between a new
meade of roo1le~s. cosmopolitan comciou.f;lless and the older, more
parochial national tnditioos from which this consciousness has
defiantly broken }005(:.' The vibrant modcm!Jt tru:rropo!Js is the
cultural node of a now thoroughly global capitalist S!"'fem, and is in
the procc:>s of both relinquishing and ninterpn:tin~; from a disllmtt
the national enclaves within which capitalist production has tradition-

320
 THE M.\JOOST RABBI

ally llourishod. lrel•nd or Hritain willthlL< c:nme In figurr. .. no ITI<)re

than random regional im.'tlm!Pric.ms of an autvnomous intemari.onal
ncworlc, whose economic operations uaverse panicubr cultures as
indifferently a'i 'deep structures' cut acrns..~ distincl 1anguages, literary
texts or indi\idull! egos. The demcinated fate of the modernist exiles
and emigr~s is a materW condition for the emergence of a newly
formali?.iog, uni•ersalizing thnught, nne which h•r•ing spurned the
ambiguous eomfons of a motherland can now cast a bleak analytic
eye, from its ;.ranscendental' \<-anlage-point. in some polyglot merrop-
o~ s, on aU 5UCh spocific historical lc:gacie>, <liscerniug the hi<l<lcn
global logics by which they arc governed. The modcmislli, as Scan
Golden hos suggested, wtre never gre31ly hamstn~ng by those vested
psychological interests in a specific national culture which mark a
more prooincial an;' iMread, they could approach such Indigenous
traditions from the outside, estrange and appropriate them for their
own dc\'ious ends, roam in lhc manner of a Joyce, Pound or Eliot
across a whole SJ)<In of cultures in euphoric, melancholic liber.trion
f'ronl the Oe-dipal constraints uf a mother tongue. If litis powerfully
alienating perspective on tr.tditionalist pieties is one source of
modernism's radical imJ)<Icl, il also bettays weD enough its reluclllltt
complicity with the world of international capitalist production, which
Is quite as nation-blind OS Tlu Wss!l umd or lite Cantos and has lite
same scoot respect for regional idiosyncrasy. To spring like Joyce or
Beckett from a chronically backward colonial society was 10 this
e>~eut ro tum politial oppression to artistic advan12ge: if you had
little enough ricb national hr:rita~ in the fii'St place, hav"" been
systcmaticaJiy deprived ofit by the British, then you figured already as
a kind of non-pla<:e and nun-identity an<l could litus find yOUJWif
unpn:dicrably caupuhed from margins ro cenrre, offerins' in your
periphemlity an ironic prefiguration of the destiny thnt would now
befall c:ven the most advanced national c~Ust formations. Bereft of
a. &table, continuous cultunl tradition, the colonized were forced to
make It up as they went along; and ir is exactly this effect of po~tical
dispoosessiou which Jol"'e, Beckett and Fl111u> O'Brien "ill put to
subllcrsive modernist usc.
The pre-industrial - Ireland as a stagnant agr.Jrian provinc-e -litus
enters into a dramatic new t'OnstcUation with the must developed, as
'primirive' and sophisticated o:Ke more commingle in the modernist
sen<il>iliry. If Dublin is now ~>e copitnl of lite world, it is in part
321
because the lifc-rbythms ofsuch a paM<:hial spot, with its set routines,
recurrent habits and sense of inert enclosure, aa coming to seem
exemplary of the shrunken, self-SUSiaining, repetitive sphere of
monopoly capitalism itself. The sealed circuits of the one reflect,
microcosmically, those of the odler. Jl,iodemism and colonialism
bec()me <trange b.dfcll.,..·s, not lt.W becau.<e the liberal realist
doctrines from which modemism breaks free were never quite so
plausible and entrenched on lhc colonial edges u lhey were in lhe
metropolitan ""orres. For the •ubiugared subjecl< of empire, the
individual is lc-so the stl'enliOUsly self-foshioning ageot of its own
historical dcsdny !han empty, powerless, without a name; there ean be
little of the major realists' tms.t in the bentficence of linear time,
which is always on the side of Caesar. Languishinr "'itbin a buren
social reality, the colonized subject may beat the kind of retreat into
fantasy and hallucination which lends itself more evidcntl)· to
modernist than to rcafut litcnzy practice. And if the traditional
national bnguages are now encountering global semiotic sysaems,
cherished cultunl bcrita,es yielding giOWld to ••-ant-gardc tech-
niques which are easily portable across national froatien, who better
placed to •peak this new non-speech than those already disinherited
in their own ton~?
For jo,ce, then, the firture lies 001 so much with thwarted
Romantic intellectu:tls stiD ambioalently in thrall to a national
beriJa&e, as "'ith foceless advertisinJ agents of mixetl nationhood and
little domestic s12bili1Y who can be a1 home anywhere because
anywhere i~ everywhere. Out if Leopold Dloom signifies in this sense
the 'good' side of international capitalism, with i1> impatience of all
chau.mism and provincialism, its demornuic scam for the hicntic
and elitist, his vague humanitarian creed of universal brotherhood
also bears witness to the impotent universalism o( the bourgeois
pubtic sphere. Bloom is at ooce sunk in gross particularism and too
abstn~cdy cosmopolitan; and m this extent he reproduces in his own
person th< C.'Uillradi«ion betweefl foro> and content whi<-h putains to
t.he commodities he peddles. Soch, at least, would be the view of a
Geurg Luk:ics, for whom the commodity form is the secret villain of
this modem scenario in which abstract and IXJIICrc'le have been riven
apa.rt. History Qru/ Class Co=ioamm depicts a faDen world in which,
under the sway of e•change-value, 're:olity disintegrates into a
multitude of itntiOll<ll facts and over these a netwOrk of purely

322
"fonnal" laws ('mpticd of ctmrcm is c:ast.... It i;: ~ rcasonabk
dt:SCC!l)IIOO or U/y!S($, or (ot that matter o r much modernist >lr t. of
which Th<:-odC>f Admn(l c:C)mmcnl'i lh.at its fCmnsl rd::ninn.'i arc 11s
abstract u the real relations be~een inclj\•iduals io bourge<~is
SOC1et:y.s The commr,.liry: irself :t. kintl nf t>:tnl• •d ic:cl tn:ttus hc:lwcc:n
usc-value aod achange-value, sensuous conK'nt and unh~rs~l form,
is fM LuUcs the source o r all these dis:abling antimonies benn:cn
general and ptrticular. The boucy;eoisK> is oo rhe one ~nd ' hekl fas1
in lhe m.ire of itnmcdiaq',~ but subjected on the other hand to the
dr.m1i-ni1m nf inm l:aws wilh ;~lllht: naluntli1..r:d fatality or Lhe wori.J or
""'1h. The human subject is ar once <'mpiri<:al ~rtict• l.11r ;md ab5rrar.l
uunsceodence. pt~eoomena.lly determined but spiritually free. In such
hist-orical conditions* subjec-c and obj ~t. form and ct:lntent, sen~ :md
spirit. ue broken asunder; <~nd the brcnbtaking pro;«t of the central
sc:c:1iun uf Him.::r "nd Clim Om.nia!llr;r:s1 is to fastet\ upon tbtsc
comrnonpla« topoi of idealist philosophy and tblnk them throogh
3br:tin 1 th i~ lime in the tr.milftguJi:·tg light of dJe CO!Umodity form
•Nhl(".h for L1t k~ c~:: imprinrs rh:u ide.:Llism in its every :as~1 hut tu
which it is nctcSS<ttily bUndtd.
T here ate tv.o pos.s1bk solutions ro tb.is historical situ.ation. One is
~i allsm, wblch fi~ued in J::As.t e.r n Eorope A.S r.he S111linism fnr whir.:h
Lul::~s bec:.une fmm time to time an ambiguous <ipo\ogist. T he oth.tt,
.smm:what less mxins suluti<1n ::. the ut::'ldtetic, whidt fOr Lukacs
emerged into existence ~ a s-tl.':a1cgiC' response cc. the dilemmas he
shu.:hc:s. In •ht eighlt:r:uth (tfttury, t11e starl polaritic.~ o: early
bourgeois society

(tJll.ft"rrecJ UJ)OO a~Slh t:tiC'i iUld UI)Oil OOJlS(iOuSiltSS of art ;It

philosophical imponancc tlul.t an was un«b1e to Ia)' tlaitn ro
in previous ages. This docs not nl(an that an itself
wa." t:)t•cric:t l(:iug an uuprectdentW gok!eu uge. On
the contrary, v.ith a vet)' fh>. exceptions the acruaJ
:utistic f1J(fllucliou duriug this puiod c.mn01 bt teulotely
c;ompnrt:d tn th:u <.1f p:tt::t b''Uklen :agel'. \\'11:11 is c:md:d ht:u
is tbe- thf!'or<-•k -'1 .:~ n.:l phll osophic~l ll'tl(!(ln:lln« wl\i(h the
Jm'w ipk ~l fir! acquired in this period.•

This rrinciplc. $1"1 l .ukac~ daims, imnh·es 'rhc (.TCarirm nf a (.'tUit:rctc

totality thac springs iT<-m ;a concc?lion of i()l'm orientated tO'WVds the
:l!.1
concrete content of its m"terial substratum. (n this vitw fonn is
ther.Cure able Ia deuw~sh the "contingent" relation of the pans to
the whole and to resolve the merely apparent opposition between
chance ®d necessity.'' The work of an. in short, comes to the rescue
uf a co!JUOOdified existence, equipped with everything in which the
commodity is so lam<ntobly lacking- a form no longer indifferent to
its content but iadissoc:iable from it; an objeaifying of the subjcc!M
which entails enrichment rather dum esttangement; a deconstruction
of the antithesis between freedom and necessity, as each elemem of
the onefact oppc;m; ot once minlculously aumnomous yet cunningly
subordinated to the law of the whole.
In the absence of socialism, then, it will prove necessary to make do
with art. Just as aesthetics itself provided for eorly bourgeois society
an irnaginary resulution or real contndi(.1.iun:;, su as lhc g;rip or
StaUnism tightens Lukks is constrained to discover in an that
concrete tou lity which a society of labour camps lool:.< increasingly
unlikely to de~'"'· 1t is thu.s that he promulpt<'> Iris <-.:lcbntcd
doctrine of realism, as a kind of dialccticized nrsion of the Romantic
ideology of the S}mbol. ln the all-round, ouoy-sided, harmonious
totality of the realist work, individual partic-ulars are entirely mediated
through the structure of the whole, sublatcd to the 'typical' or
uni-.·ersal with no delriment 10 their senwous specificity. In his bter
aesthetic th.:ory, Luk:ics win cit< as the central category of the
a""·tfu:tic the notion of Bmmrlnh<i1 or speciality, that which seamlessly
mediates between indi\idual and totality by inhering simultlneously
in both! For him, as for a long tradition of Romantic idealism, an
signifies that privileged place where the concrete phenomena, whlle
posing as no more than themselves, are surreptitiously recreoted in
the image of thl:ir unh·er.;al uuth. In spealting simply of itself,
jealously preserving its self-identity, each facet of the anwork cannot
help lr.lt15mitting a lateral message •bout •D of the others. Works of
realism mow the truth, but pletend in a crafty act of pre$tidigitation
that they do not: the wort must first of aU abstract the essence of the
reo), then conceal this es.<encc by recreating it in all of its supposed
immediacy. The realist anefact is thus • kind of irtlmp l'oeil, a surface
which is also a depth, a regulative 11\\' everywhere absohltc yet
nowhere visible. The richly specified elements of the ten. are at once
cquiYalent to •nd lcs.• than the totality which constitutes them; and
the price which these elements must pay for their privileged
32~
 THE MAJOOST RABSt

mediation through the whole is the loss of any real power to react
critically upon it
LuUcs's aesthetics, in other words, arc a left mirror·im.tge of the
domirulnt model nfbourgeoL• ""'therics whose fommes •nd misfor-
tlmes we have chaned through this stUdy. Lukiics;.n realism lends a
M.an:lst inflecdon to that imbriadon ofl.aw and freedom, whole and
pan, spirit and sense, which plays so vit.J a role in the ronstntction of
middle-class begcmoay. Spontaneously inscribed by the law of the
whole, the minute particulars of the realist anefact dance tog.ther in
conson according to some self-effacing principle of unity. It is as
thOIJgh Lokics, having tracked the embarrMsments of bourgeois
society to U..:ir malerial roots in a style quite at odds with that
soclccy's own self-reflecdon, then turnS and advances much the same
solu1ions 10 these difficulties. It is !rue 1hat for him the teb rion.s
bc.-twccn pan and whole are always subtly mcdiatL-d, nC'olcr a matter of
some intuited coalescence; but i1 is ncvenheless rem:utable that one
wilh his formidoble powers of historic:tl malerialist analysis should
rome up wilh an aesthetics which in broad outline faithfuUy
reproduces some of the key strucrures of bourgeois political power.
If this is remarkable, it is not perhaps all that surprising. It belongs
to Lu1:2cs's critique of both Sralini<m and leftist •vant-gardism to
i.nvol<e 1he wealrh of 1he bottrgeois humauis1. legacy, O\'el\'aluing lhe
undoubted continuiiy between lhat heritage and a socialist furure;
and lh• Romantic roots ofhis own brand of M;mism le:~d h.im often
enough to ignore lhe moro progressive dimensions of capitalism,
including dtc need for an aesthetics which has leunt from the
commodiiy form ralher lhan lapsed back into some nostalgic totalily
before il ever was. To say Ibis is not ro deny the admirable force and
fcniUty of the Luklicsian theory of realism, wh.icb represcors a.o
im"Riuable contribution to the canon of Man:ist criti<ism, and which a
modcmlst Marxism has unjustly demeaned; but Lukacs's failure 10
tau Marx's point th31 lustory I'<Ogn:sses by its bad side nevenhdess
constinrtes a serious limitation to his thooght.

\Valt~r Benjamin, by cnn.tr.L~, presses ~taJX's dictum to a parodic

extrtme. His .Messianic reading of histOty forbids him any faith irl
secular mkmption, dismantles aD teleological hope, and In an
3Stonishingly bold dialectical stroke locates the signs of salvation in
the very unregeneracy of historical life, in its pOStbpsarlan suffering
325
and squolor. The more history presents itself •• monified and
de., •alued, as mthe sluggish, spiritually bankrupt "urld u fthe German
Traumpitl, the more it becomes a negative index of some utterly
inconceivable tr.lnscendence waiting patiendy in the wings. Time in
such conditions is folded bock into space, dwindled to a repetition so
agonizingly empty that some salvitic epiphany might just be imagined
to tremble on its brink. The profane order of a com opt politics is a
ldod of negative imprint of Messianic time, which will finally elll(rg¢
into it<own on lhe day of judgement not fi'om the womb ofhistory but
from its ruins. The \'Cry transitoriucss of a history in pkces
anticipates its own ultimate passing away, so that for Benjamin lhe
ghostly traces of pamdise can be detected in its sheer antithesis- in
that endless series of calliSil<lphes which is secular temporality, lhe
soorm blowing from hc2Ven to which some gi\>c the IWI!e of progress.
At the nadir of historical fortunes, in • social order grown morbid and
mcuinstess, the figute of the jUSt society em be (lllmmtringly
discerned, by a heterodoK bem.eneutics for which lhe deatlt's head is
tramfigurcd into an angetic countr:nancc. Only such a negative
political theology can sl.3y IJUe to the Judaic Billlm:~r which
rrohihit< .u grnven inuge< of future ncoonciliotioo, including those
imagc.s known as art. Only the fragm<:nllU)· work of art, that whkh
refuses the lures of the aesthetic, of Schan and symbotic totality, can
hope to figure f011b truth and jusrice by remoining resolutely Silent
about them, foregrounding in their place the unn:deemed torment of
secular ti~.
l.ukacs opposes the artefact to tbe commodity; Benjamin, in
another feat of dialectical impudence, conjures a rcvolutionaey
•esthetics from lhe commodity form it<elf. The blank, pcrrified
objects of Traom}'icl have undergone a kind of Jt,.kagc of meaning,
an unhinging of signifier ill!d signi6cd, in a world which like that of
commodity production knows only the empty, homogeneous time of
e.temal rcperirion. n •• features of this inert, atomized landS<:'llp< then
ha>·e to sulfcr a kind of se<:ond;uy rcifu:ati011 at the hands of lhe
aUegnrical s ign, i""if • deod lener or piece oflifeles< script. But once
oO intrinsic me:ming has baemorrhaged from the object, in a collapse
of the expressive totality which Luk:U:s espouses, any phenomenon
can oomc by the wily resourcefulness of the aDegorist to signify
absolutely anything eJso,., in a kind of pruftme parody of the creative
naming of God. Allegoey thus mimes the levelling, cquiv:alencJns
326
 THE MAlXIST R.\1181

operations of the commodity but there b)· releases a fresh polyvalence

of mc~ning, as the allegorist grubs omong the ruins of Oll(e integt.1l
meanings to permutate them in stanlin!> new ways. Once purged of all
mystifying immanence, the illegorial referent can be redeemed into
a multiplicity of uses. read against the grain and scandalously
reinterpreted in the manner of Kabbala. The inherent sense which
ebbs from the object under the allegorist's melancholy gue leaYes it
an arbilral)' material signifier, a rune or fragn•ent retrieved from the
dwcltes of some univocal significance and swrendered uncoodilionally
into the aUegorist's P"""''· Such objects ha\'e already """"' loose
from their cuDttXIli, arul so can be plucl<cd frum their t:m~iro~ and
wovt.n together in a set of estranging correspondences. ~jamin is
already familiar "ith this technique from Kobbolistic interpre~rion,
and will later find resonances of it in die prac:tiee of die 1\'IU!t-gardc,
in montage, surrtallsm, dream imagery and epic theatre, as well as in
the epiphanies of Pruustian memory, the symbolic affinities of
Baudelaire and his own obscssio1111l habit of coUecting. There is also a
seed nf in.<;pintion here fOr his bttr doctrine nf mechanical
reproduction, in which the very technology which breeds alienation,
given a dlalectical twist, tan Slrip cultunl productS of their
inlinli<btory aura and refunction them in productive v.·3ys.
Lilc the commodity, the meaning of the alll'pkal object is always
elsewhere, eccentric to iiS marerial being; but the more polyvalent it
~s. the more supple and invenriv. grows its r.,...nsic power of
decipberintl the real. The aUcgorieal signifier shares in a sense in the
frozen wor.ld of myth, wlla.e cnmpul•iYe repedtlnns foreshadow
Benjamin's later image uf an historitism for which all time is
homot!cncoos; but it is also a forec to break open this fetishlztd
realm, inscribing its own network of'magical' affinities across the f.1ce
ofan inscru~blc bistury. l.atcr in Bc:nhamin's work, this will take the
form of the dialectical image, the shocking confrontation in which
time is am:sted tu a cumpact munad, spatialized tu a >himmering 6eld
of force, so that the political present may redeem an eodangen:d
moment of the past by wrenching it inrn lUumlnadng correspondence
with itself. The probkm of Benjamin's project, as Jiirgen Habennas
has pointed out, is to restore the possibility of such symbolic
coneb tions while tiquidatinr 1har world of natural mythol"'!)' of
which they fnrm a part. m Neither the ' natural' lotaliting of the
symbol, nor die mere consecration of linear rcpedtlon, Is an
327
 ;~:cccpt<~brlc strategy. Mecb:ankal reproductio1l rcjecrs both the unique
llifft:t'tnte "f llt~ ilura .:uul lhe t:Hdic.-Ss: sel(- it.le!Uilie-~ uf 1m1h; in
levcOing art<'fllCts tO a :il~IDCOCSS !H•l:n1cr.of..-c of {h(· rormcr, it frtcs
them for di$tjncti"t (uncti()ns repugnant to 6e Jatte-:-.
·r 'heo;e di:~W,c;ti ;:a l images are an inscanc:e (I( wh:u f.hmj11.min •.'!:Ills :1
<constellation', a motifwhkh runs from the- first few p3ges oChis book
oo Trarur~pr({ to the ponllutoously published 'T htses Oil die
l'l!ilosophy of Hlsfory'. In the idt-a.l tritk'al method, h<.' writt ; ,

idea>:> ~ re nor reprt!;;t;:med in th e m~l~ive~ tmr salle !~· and

exdu~i,·ely in a:'l arrangement of coOCTtt( elcmeou in lhe
co•lcept: ;~ s tbe oon6gurJrion of tbcsc elements . .. (de.iis
are to objects l\S constellations nre to ;mrs. 'Lllis means: ln
rhc 6rst place, that tbey <~re neither their concep1s nor their
hno.·s .. . J 1 is the fum:tiou uf t.'(·,uct:pt~ h) gf•ILq) pheuonu:Jia
togttllcr, and lhe di,is.ion which i~ brought sbout within
them Lhaall:i tv tht: di:otinguishiog Jl('\\t:r oftht: iuttlle-ct is
All rh~ mort" signi:fi.cuu in rh.:n it brings abo01 i\4'0 things :11
a single .stroke: lht u lvnion of phrnomena and th~
n:p J ~:>t:ulaliOn uf iJea.'i.' 1

The idea is not wltlt lies behind t:be pben:>~.nenon <ol& ~ome infonuing
e»stru:c, hut lhc way lhc nbjt:t:t is c:-.mccptu.ally t:unfil{ur:Ht:d in i1s
diverse, cxtr<:mc :aDd eontndic:or)' clements. Benjamin's dream is of
:;. form of criticism so ten3ClOUSiy imnunent that it wQuld remo~i n
e;rnirely immerstd in i rs objecr, The mu.h of t.tmr objen wot•ld be
dl$clolied not by referring it in ra.tionalist style: tO a g"<>'"tming genera~
idea, bul IJ.r d is~nantling i1s Cnllll)<"m eut d t:mems Lbrough the power
of minutCif prarritular COilC'CptS, :ben r«""ntigur.uing L\em in a
pattel'n ovhicb redeemed the. tbif.g's tuea•liog and v:tlue without
c:c:a!rinp; rn :ttlhc:re In ir. 'l'hcmmu:na'~ he wrir1-:s, 'tlu nm, bclv.e\·er,
enter into the rctlm of ideas ·.-.·hole, in lhdr (nld(' empiri('al state,
ad1.1lter.ued by ~peannoc:s, t>u1 only in th.eir bs$ic dcmcrus,
n:dc:cutcd. T1tey are ..Ji~t.!ott:d uf thciJ' lill.se unity so dt;U., dws divided.
thc;y mip:ht partakt: u :· tht~ ,;cnuir:t: uuil)• uf truth.'' ~ T ht: d1iug ttl~(
not b< grasp«< as s mere instantiation of some univeru.l r:sS<.'nce;
insle-~d, lhOI18ht must deploy a w"boJe clu:5ter of 5tubbcrnly specific
l."(UH.:epts v.hdt iu Cubisl :;1)lt ceCructthc olJject ill ruyriad d.irectl(POS
or penetrate it ti'<lm ~ rang<' of dit(i.1se t~ngtes. ln thi ~ \a:ay, 1hc

328
phc.nomcn:t) o;pha c is itself f'IC"'J\I:tt.k:d 10 yic;ld up 11 kind of no\cmcnal
truth, as the nUcr06c:opic gaz:e e~tranges the everyday into the
rt:markllhlc:.u
A eonstc:Oatory epistemology sets ils face ag-ainst 1hc Cmcsian or
Kanli:.m momr:nt of ~uhj ectivil)·, Jess con cerned to ct~-sc:s.:;• tbt:
phcnom('lloo tb ~ n
to liberate it into ii.S 0\loll sensuous being ~ nd
pmerve its dispu -ate elements in all their irreducible. heterogeneity.
The Knnti:m di\;i:;it.m C)( <::mpiric.1l :md intP.IIigible is thus tr:an-
sceoded; and this is the O:tly way of doing methodclogkal justice to 3
dtiug)s damaged! suppressed ntateri:illty, s~lvaging ~that Adorno caLLs
'rhe '1'111Sic' pnKiucts and blind SJMS which ha\'t: t:scarcd rhe ttialcr.:tit:'
from the inexorable ironing o>ul o f the 1bstr.1ct idea.u T he
cnnstdbtiun rrfuo;it'> 111 d im:h itsdf on SiM1lt: rncl:.physit::a) e\M:rk:c:,
lca,ing its C<lmponmt pans loo;cl)' anio.Llatcd in the manner of
Tr11uffllluJ or ep1c lhealre; but n ne,:ertbeless prefigures tbolt state of
re-conciliation whiC'b ic would bt' both blasphemous aDd politictiJy
coul\terproducti\'t to rtprescnt directly. In irs unity of the perceptual
and t:uncr.ptu:tl: ilo; lr.c.nsm uL:Jiiun uf tlmugh ls intu im:.g.r!'l, it lkars a
strain of t.Mt blissful Edenic condition in viltid wQIJ'd and obim were
s.pont:l.rlcously 3 t one. as we-ll a$ of that prehistoric, mimetic
c.:orr~.:;ptmdenc~ be~ N:mm~ and humanity which pre -d :n~l (ntr
fall into cognitiYe reas011.
T he: Btujuminian tlOtion o( OOJlStd.huion is iaseJJ, one might daint,
a COnitcllation all <;fitS c>wn, rich in thcorctical allu!;ions. If it point;
b:.~ck 10 K.tbb:lb, the Leiboitiaft fuo n.ad ~ud Hu ~etl's l'tlum to tbe
phe nom,_ ':t1il, ir :ll~n gln n r~s tow:mls $11f'R':lti~'s e$tr.:mging: mamlll{-
uratiOil$ of the evtry'da)', !0 Schoenberg's musical S)'stem and to 3
'ofhole new sayle o: microseoptc sociology tu which. as in the wort of
Adorno or B.enjamin's o•-n study of PAris, a tranSJOr~d rc·ladon of
pan and whole is est'.tblished.•:· In dJjs kind o( micr();lltal}-si$, the
iudi ~Klucd 11lu:numcuun is XJIISilt:U in all uf its tl'ltrdett:Smim:d
complexity as a kind of cryptic code or riddlinp: rebus to be
dtciph trt:d, :a drauically ahbrt:"i:ned io:r...ge uf !.(JCial proce!.ses which
the tfi$(:~ m ing eye will pns~L.-ld t ir ro )iel(l up. I( m 1ght be a"h.. •ed th:ct
rhe echoes o{ s-ymbolic rotalhy th \1~ llt~gt-T on whhin lhi~ alte math'<'
mode of thous}tt; but it is n~· IC!-S a queu io n of ret.eiving the object
ao; sum l~ intuiri\'l! givr.n rhan uf di~rtkul:tJing on cl rec:(mo;miCimg it
throlcgh the labo\cr oftru:.conc:q'lt. Whac this mctlwd then delivers is a
kind of poe-lie or nove-lUetic sociology in which the wbole lic~rm to
 umsi.st of nurhin.~ but a 1lr:ns.~ lr:•sdlaJinn of g:rt~phi r imagtS: :~nd 10
this CJ~.tcnr ir represents an atstbtdciud model o( social caquil)'. h
sprinp, however, ftom ;.n aestheck (OUCtived othttwise - nut as
some symbolist inhneoce of pdiTt in whole, nor even in Lukiesian
fashiOon as their complc:x roediatioll. w!Uch can be accused si.anply or
de(tf'!illg aftd co.n,,Jjc<tting tltt" ttltality•s ltrru mas! l~f)· t.tl 1hc
pcuricular. h Is a matter, ralhcr, of ccnstructingo a stringent ~ronomy
of the obj ~ct which neve t1hdt~ u:(~ d tt :.Jiurt" u ( Klentity,
allowing i~t; ':on.-;rim..;:nr:s ro lighr ca~.tt odtcr up in aU their
C.)nmtdictorinc:u. 1'he literary sry1es of lkuj-arnin and Adorno
lhtmseh·es ate aolOng the finc:sc exwnplt:s uf t his u:.udc.
The- oon.c.x"pr of cooSt(·lJarion, wbich Btnj:unin elaborated in dose
colb.boration with Adoroo, •<- if. pt"thal'" dk: JUL~t~t strik.iugl)' Hrigin:tl
allr:mpt in the mudc:rn pc riNI to bn~k with 1radiriona l ~·crs ions of
totality. It represents .a determine.:! m isrance to the more paranoid
fCJnus nf lOtali1in~ lhuugtn on tht: pan u( thinkers whn nevmlleii.!SS
sc• thdr faces a.~inn aoy mere empiricist cxlcbradon of the
fragment. By rcvolutionitiog the rcl~rions lx-ro.-een pan and whole,
thr: t:t)ttsh:llll.liou :-.tri._e; ut tl~e \ ery hear1 uf thr: lrdt.lil i un•l~te>l ht:lit.:
p:an.digm, in which the spcciticiry of •he dcttil is aUowcd no genuine
.-e~ill tatK.'t: lOl1te urganit.ing JJW't:f ui lht: u•tality. T he ac:sthtt.it: is th us
turned ~~inst the acsrht•ric: whar s..tpposcdl)· cli;tinguisbcs an from
discursiYe thought - its bi~h degree of .5pecificity - is pushed to an
e"'treme>!))It rha1 spt"rifidry i~ no longer .i ~ l.1.1k ~ ~'S both prf'.serwd
and suspct>dcd. The c<ms!cllati<>n safeguard; p311i<ulm!y but fis.urcs
idt-JHil}: exploding the object inJo au arr.ly of COJJJliclive tl~tueu~ ;,wtl
Sill unlea-.hing it:-. rnutcriali1) at 1ht: utst uf il.s self~ s• mt:nc:;s. 1.\ tkM.._"':i-'S
'type', by contr:ut. suff'crs no loss of sclf- idcntit)' through its
i mm~rli.im1 iu the whuh:, bul ~nterge s 'tlli!b that illeutit) det!ptut:d am)
enriched. Hj; Schillc;ruttt at>;:;thctics c:m·io;agc linh: contlicl hct11t't'.cn
the 'l:arious facet$ of t bc '.tll•round' indh·iduaJ; on the contru y, thc-
'1)pictl' char..U:.1crs iu ben:ftCe in stltUC histuricaJ E'·IISCI\l;~ teml!> lu
re<>olve irs \•nrions :tspec:ls inrn harmuny. l .uk:ico; tJcl6 indeed rhinl:
chc C'.uegoJ)' of coru:radkrion, but always under the sign of lmiry. The
eapitali$1 &ocial formation iiS a toulity of contradictions; what
'IP.temrines ~~h cxmrr:u:li<;tiun is thus lht: unity ir tiJrms with l)lhen.;
the mttb of oontraclicrion is accordingty nn.ity. It w()ulcl be h11rd t(l
think up a more blnanr contDdiction.
It is this a;sealialititt~ ufcuuJlict w!aK:h the OOI)(;Iepl of \i<Jul>h:lb cj(m

330
is out to worst, and there c.an be no doubt that in dC\·clopb g ic both
Benjamin •nd Ado""' hod LukOcs firmly in their sights. It is not,
huw.,'!Vt~r. 1111 idea wilhnuf ~'·c:n: clinicullil!''i nf it~ nwn. Fur tlm: thing,
it circumvents the problem Qf J,·r(t'fflittah;.-ru nbcd by some more
traditional dtlr.tleh :Woul totalil)' - of the rd:ati~e causal wt!'ishl and
d fi01cy· of difrercn t a:mstintc:tns wirhin a \l'holc ::l)''!:itr.m. In breaking
with a rigidl)' rationalistic hierarchy of values, it tends instead to
t>qn a li ~ on I :t.ll c )f'..nWn1!) 1) f t lu~ objr.c:c- :t m t'-thod whtch i~ sume rimes
preJ~d co (ln cxucmc in the work of Bcniamin, whose del.b!ronely
casual )uxtaposittoo.s of a str.&y fe;aturc of the superstructure .nth a
ct:ntrnl t:umpmtent ul' lhe hast: won him 11 nflukc: frurn the: more:
soberly minded :\donu:-P T hose ro\dkals wbo instillctivcly mistrun
t ht.~ nutiun ur hi ~r:an.fty shuulcJ a."il.. themselvc:s wht:thcr th ~y u:~ll)'
bditt•t a<-sthccks to be u important <'~' apa.nhcid. Ooc of W most
vit-.al asp«t5 of the i<ka of tot.ality has b(~n to pro,idc u5 w1th 50ffie
cooc:rete pol iri t~l gniclanc:r. ns ((I which inoainrrir'"s are more ~n{f':l l
than orhers in the prouu of social change - to escapt", in short a
purdy circular onLiUil of the ~ocial formatiort m which, siutt e~et)'
'lc\·cl' seems (If «Jt•al vtlc:nc.:y with <'very mhtr.. the; q m;~tion or where
one p~litically intervtnell may be arbitrarily de.citled. .\1ost political
r.uli.::::~ ls, wh~lh l:r thE::y xkn uwlt!db'l! ic nr nul~ ru"t>. c:nmminv.d to snme
notion of hierard ak.al determination. believing for e.xampk that radst
or se~~:ls t >1U1tudes are mort dur-.tbly transformed ~ chomges of
imahution m-n by et10ns to ch tmg~ collSC'iousness <'S sucb. The
concept of totality 1eminds u) f01cibly of the ·Structural limitations
impust:d nn fYJ.tlit:ul:tr ooun;cs ur pulitit::al ac-1iun- uf wh:at must fir'it
be done, also don<. or J'('mains to be done in chc pnrsu.it of some
p01jtit1l gQ:ll. There is no need ro suspect, ia some: com-ement straw
r:nget of torali;r.ing thought, (llat our polilioll :u;rions nre merefore
simply 'gi,·en' to us spontaneoustt b)' the structure oftM sodai whole
-,. fantaS) whtch is merely the o!her side of tbe }eft tefonnis[ beliei
(shar~d by a good many right-wing conse!''a1Wes) tbtt there is ao
'SO<'i.ll whoi.e1 wh.:au.oever othe, than one discursi\·ely consttucted fOI'
pr:ftom~t il: ~nds.
The dncrrinc: (h~ t social tit(: oonu i~ hicrarchit-.al cl('tcrminarion.s
docs DOt of ~OU1'$C :automa~kally k:ad to the: classical 1\·hrxist vie.w that
iJl humaJJ hi.slOr)' tv date C't:rlaiu uaalt:ri:tl f:.~clo-n.: hil\'~ ln:c:n uf
~.:un:-.i 'i iL"tl l lundamcnud irnrnJrtancc:. Fur a rnun: plura1il>t vistun, the
domi!Wlcc of such factors is a WJ'iabk conjunctural IDtlttr: what is
3 31
dt."tc:rminant in one <:Ontcx:t or pc:r.;pcttivc: ~ not necessarily so in
another. Scdety III2Y mus be conceived :!long the lines of some
Viitlgensteinian pOle, :IS a rich afr.l)l of Slr.llegies, lllOVeS and
counttrmuvcs in wltich ccrlllin prioritic:s arc "J>ragmatically appropriate
from cenaill viewpoints. l''or Mamsm, society is a duller, drabber,
less aesthetically entbrnUing affair, rnuch more pr<me to compulsive
rcpelition. with a somewhat impoverished range of moves at its
disposal, Jess like a playground than a prison. In its monotonously
determinist manner, Marxism imagines that in order to listen to Bach
one must fint wad, or set someone else to do so, and !hat mor:U
philosophers could not debate unless child-rearing practices had first
put them in place. It argues. m~r, that these material precocditions
are not simply the Jioe qua """ ofwhat flows from them, bur oon rinue
to exen a decisive force upon it.
The cunccpt of constcUation camcs with it a significant ambiguity
about me subjecdve or objective nature of such constructive activity.
On the one hond, the model is advanced as an antidote to aU err.mt
subjecti,ism: concepts must ding to the contours of the thing iudf
rather than sprillg from the subject's artltrary will, subduing
tltemse~s like Schoenberg's compositional practice to the immanent
logic of their subject-matter. 'There is a delicate. empiricism',
Benjamin quotes Goedle as declaring, 'which so intimately invo!Yes
itself with the object that it becomes lnle theory."' On the other
hand, lhe act of constcUating would seem 10 entail an idiosyncntic
ffee-whedng of the imagination which recalls the devious opponunism
of the allegorist. Indeed at its worst the constellation would appear an
unholy mixture of positivism (what 1\domo called the '"ide-eyed
presentation of mere faas' nf Benjamin's Pas~l),. and
whimsicality; and it is this combination wlticb Adorno detects in
surrealism, whose montascs seem to him to lnvoh•e a fcdshism of
immediacy yoked 10 an arbitrary, undiale<tlcal subjectivism:•• lie
find> something of the same blend in Benjamin's Arcades project,
which be cliid011 for a certain OCIClllt positi>ism as wcll .. for a
psychologisric fancifulness, finding his friend's SI)'Je of thought ar
once tou exoteric and too esoteric." For Atlorno, both surrealism and
Benjamin's wort on Paris threaten to eliminate the active, critical role
of the subject ia the interpretative process at the S.ltue time as they
permit an unbridled subjectivity. And this combimtiun may be
endemic to Benjamin's notion of allegory, the death's head symbol of

332
which displays <1 'total exprcssionlcssness. - the bl;;.ck of dtc eye-
sockets - t~ourlc:<l 10 th<: mfiSI unhrt.lh~d expn:s:o;:ifm - tht• grinning
rcnvs of teeth'.u
F'(•r all ils probl.:tns. lhe Kleu. of coosteUation surel)' l'emauJs
d urable and sug,~·sti\· e tc.d.av. Hut like much of Henjamin's thOttghl :t
<:<~ u!l<Jt
be whoUy abslfacted from its origins in historicll crisis. As
la:;c;i:,m <.'Unlt:S In rM)Wt:r, lhcrt' i:> a loell'it: in which Bt:uj:.uuin':-. whult:
car«r bc~om .:s a l:ind of urgent CQnstcllating. a cobbling t\>gcthCT of
wh3tr.w.r utqm:pt ~.,t:ss.ing Sl..'l'liJIS :and tiagtnenas (t)fut to h:tnd it~ the
1eed1 of a hiStory \\lhich~ lik~ the war-\\· e:tl)' regi mf'~ nf 1'mrll'~f.i1'1,
seems ro have subs:dcd into ruin$. ·I"hf: im~ge of the past whkh
coum!)~ he argut:a in lltt 'Thes..es ou the Pbi1•.'J:>oph)' of I-Ustary11 is that
which ap~:ar'S uncxpcct<'dl)' tO :1 man s i n~OO ouc by hl$t()ry a1 a
ntL,ut::ut oi d:wger; atld th~ is JX'·rlups \l.h.at 1lhcory' meilus ior
lk."niamin rnn, th llr 'hhic:h unrl•~r t:Xt rcmc prt:.S$\I rt': l 'Urt he ha,;tll)'
thrown together and kept ready 10 h.-nd. His project is to blast l)pet1
1he h;lh:al t:nntmmun ufhts.ury •,t..ilh Ihe iew pnur w~:tptnts :~.wibhlr. lo
hjm.: shock, ttllego.r1, ~strttn.~ment, h tter0f1;'1'lt()US 'cbips' of Mf.'S·silmic
time, m ini aturiz~uion, mechanic2l rtproduction, Kabbatist:c inter·
llll.1ati·.·e ~iult:ltl.'t:, -;urrt!<disc l!luuta~t: . r~wJuliuuoaJ)' ftU>talgia. r~a-cli,· ­
atcd mcm<)~· tr:tccs, reading which brush Jcft-hand('CJJ; atcsinst the
SI':Iiu. "Jltt: C(mditicm of p~sihi l ity t:of n1uch uf f}JiS .:t.'>Wflish.iugty bvld
c:ntcrpt"i5(·, a:; wirh rh1~ hamqu(" ;; llr.r,nrists, ~s 1h:<~t hislory was
collapsing behind 0:1e's bad:. into fragmentS - tlut one could (:Vub
::unnnE lhl! rut:ts :and sc:f3JH~ t ogeth~ r !>o<•mc neh.l!:; :~ml end" m Oilfli.'':if:'
the· iMwnblt- march of' 'pi"Ogrie'Ss' onlv b~causc:- the C11t:tsttophe had
2lre·.1dy happened. Th.!.t C:.I I~Sfrophc give-s the lie to tb( .:ocupJiicent
a:tsmnpticllllltul nati•m.al furuuuicnt'i arc: nu•w d~.-: linicivr.l:r lllltmr)llt~d h;
international S;>atX. On th( comrary, wtut (;~scism revealed was that
iottruatiou:al m•.'lttO()I)!y capitaliS!U, f:.u· (u)m l ~::h iog !iu1.:h n:tJiun:::d
linc~gr:s hc~hintl it, was ahlr. 10 C\-ploil rhc:m at ~ point of extreme
politica.l crisis for its own e nds~ ()nee :.gain dra,•inr the old and the
new intu unt:XIltK'ted ..:un~tc l l.J tiun. It iJ- pn:d sely sut:h eorrespond -
ences ~~:Ween tbe rtrchllic 11-nd the IJ'•ar,t gardc which characterize
Nazi ickology, iiS tbc sensuous spccihcity of blood and $011 is coupled
to tcx:hnolqgjc:al fetishism and global imperi:.tlist exp:ansioJL
Ar :a mntnc"nr nf uhimau: rl1nger, R.enjamin 0\o·erreacts to the
hubristic narr:uivc; of histOricism: iodeed it is noc. hard to rekct such
tckciQi.riei> if one view$ history itscl!', m MessiJnic style. as
intrinsically negative. Those of De njamin's c:ommentntors who
applaud his anti-teleology may not be quite so ••Ill''
to endorse the
indiscriminatt downgrading of the 'profane' ";t:h which it is bound
up. The abunuant fertility of Benjamin's hi>torical imagination is
blilbtcd by itS cataStrophism and apocalypticism; if for the human
being in 0>1reme danger ltiSiory has been reduced to the fortuitous
llashinf up of an isolated image, t:hrn: arc. other> whasc cmanc'ipation
invo!>es a .less acstbeticized, mon: sober and S)'Siematic enquiry into
the nature of historical uevelovmenr. Benjamin learned enduringly
from what one might read as the implicit slopn of Bertoli Brecht's
work.: Use whatever you <:.111, collect what you an siace you never
know when it milbt <<>mt in handy. But the corollary of this valuably
idiosyncralic stnttcgy can be a disabling edeclicism, which in Brecbt's
case shades ·ar 1ime5 Into a form of lclt-utilirarianism. Benjamin's
fascination "ith t:he detritus of history, with the oflheat, deW!nt and
discarded, offers an essential correclive to a narrowly totalizing
ideology at the same time "" it ri.<ls hardening, Hk.e certain
contemporary theories, into no more than that ideology's inverted
mirror-ima~ replacing a theoretical myopia with a corresponding
a._~·igmatism.

The constellation draws together the CIJlllirical and tbe conceptual;

ond it therefore figures as o str:tin of cld F_den, a rnufll<d re$01\once of
that paradisal condition in which. in the discourse of diwnty, sign and
object were intimately at one. In Benjamin's view, hutnanity bas fallen
from this feticitous 5late into a degraded instrumcnralism ofl>nguoge;
and languagl' has thus become depleted in its e>pressive, mimetk
resources, dwindting to tbe rcified token ofthe Saussurean sign. The
aUegoricotl signifier is dire testimony to 0\11 posdapsarian pliglu, in
which we are no longer spontaneously ~d of the object bttt
forced to blunder our WliY laboriou.d y from one sign to another,
groping .for significance omong the shards of a now shauered totalir:y.
Yet precisely because m~:aoing has leaked from lhc signifier, il:i
rnoteriolity hos become curinualy heightened; the more things and
meaning:s dr>eng-age, the more p:Upable become the omterial operatioru;
of the allegories which fumble to reunite them. The baroq""
aUcgorist accordingly takes pleasun: in this somatic dimension of tht
sign, finding in the ercatureliness o( its shnpe and sound some purely
sensuous residue 'l>'hich escapes the strict regime of sense w which all

334
hiT!guage is m.w. .sl1ad&r:~,_l. I)ist.'< tUr.->t: has hcc:n fOrcibly l ca~o;h cd to
logicality; but the Tf'llutnpi(J't prcoc:cuparion with script as against
voi(t.l its certotonious an·aoging of tl\'J.Utr·~deu hten·tgh'Vhs tile su
m2r.y ~ mba1mcd emblems, rc1urns to us an awarcnC5$ of the bodily
oawe of latlguage. The poi1\t where ntt:.niug :md Otaltri:dity are-
mosr painfnlly d i vid t..~l rc;minds u ~ hy nc:ptirm •l· a possible:: 1111Jty of
word and world, as ....nas of the som• ticfoundatiO<>s of speech. If the
body is ::1 Slgnill('r, fhen l:mgn:1~ is m:uv,ri:al f"'l Chtv,. h k pan of rlle
mission of piUiosoph)· Jn Benjamin's view ro J't'StOrt 10 bnguag:e its
occluded S)'lnbolic riches.. rescue it rrom its blpse into the illlpO\er!dt·
mr:nt uf cugnillnn su thai the wurd rna}· dance nncr. a!{l!in, lilu: thrt!)c;
aogcls whose bodies are one burninr flame of praise before God.
T his m:m.,ling uf vt ltlc~pt :mtl hocJ} is :t tr:uhliunal p rv,t~ccup:ninn
ofrhc a(';thedc. For Benjamin, languagt has its roots mthe JICling Out
o.f magical com::spondcnc:es between hum:;.aity J OO Kawre.; Jl is tbuS;
origin~l~· ;~ mtltf:':f of Si'nsuous i11Ulges. and only subsequent!)• of
ideas. lie 6nds traces of this expressive mimecic disoourse within our
Dlflrt !ieutiolic: COOUilUit.it.'ati•t Spt:t:t:h, :1.'> i11 tltt: :n:~lht: tic.."" uf
MallarmC or rhc gc;stnr:1l bnguagc of N~plcs.•; For the:: bnoque
drama, the only good body is a dtad one: death is the ullimate
unhin1,-ing o f meoning Jnrl mat4.':riatiry~ drtiniTlg life f:om the bod}· 10
leave il an aUegorical slgnirit:r. ' lr. lhe Tra~Knpid', Oeoj:1m.in writes.
'the corpse bccomt5 quite simply the pre-emiut1ll embltmarie
propen:;·.·•~ The bnr()(Jue drQm~ revol\·es on 11 nwtgled body, its pan s
dismembel'ed by -a ''iolence in which tht plairu fo r a lost Oll'<lnicism
call still be dimly ht:mJ. Sim:e ll1t' h\·ing twdy tweo;crus itsc:lf as :m
C\'}lTL!s....iu·: unit)', \t is only in irto bn1t:\l undoing. i11 di!Tusioo into so
many tom, reined fragments, th:&t the drama m3)' 5Cil\·eng-e for
s igni fi1..-:ut ~~ :.mung ~~ or!folns. Mear~ing is ripped from th(' ruins o.f
dle bOOy. from rhc tlaye<i Oesh rathtr 1han from the harmonious
figure; and one-ata)· perh:lps detect hert a taint anu.!llf;;,Y with tltc w4,Tl
(Jf Freud, f()r w)li-.~h it is likewist> in tl\t dividing of tbt body, the
dis:artkulating of irs zones and Org:aD$, chat its 'trutl1' roay bt
d~l<>sed.
11 is Lhit. J...im.l of di:>mt:mbcnnnu, ln the milder fium of the .<~hocks
1111d im·nsions of nrbAn cxptri("ftCC, which the {id"ro" of the .'\:-cad es
prokct suives ro resist. The}l.dtJ(M or solitarY cil}l strolltt', stt:PI'iug
out with his turtle Oil 3 le3d, 01oves nliljt:saicodl) ugai n~t the ""ain 11f
rht' uth:m m ::ts~ who W(IUJd decompose him to some alien meaning:

.u s
in this .sen$( his very Slylc oi walking is a politic-s ~ II hl itself. This is
Ill<: .lr-:lh t:tiLizc:d !Judy ul tht: lei..ureJ fln:-imlu:->tri:t! 'J.Urld 7 uf th~
dolll(S'ic interior and noo-c<immodifiOO object: \\'hat n1odem socitt)'
demands is a ~cnstitutcd bod)·, one intimate with tcc.hoology .ltld
:;\,l;ap u~d to t'1 e Sttdden conjunculr'!s ;rend disconnections of urbao lifC.
Benjamin's proiect, in diQrt, is the comtruction oC a new kiod of
human bod;. iiiJd d1e role of the cultun1l critiCi11th.is tasl: iMvlve; hi...
or her inrt"r''L'enrjon in •.whm he caUs dle 'im11$e sphere>. In an
enigmatic passage io his essay 011 surrealism. be wlites:

The c:l)ll,•nivc i -~ a bod)'. tr.o.. t\ntl the pl:._~·st~ 1h~• is being

organised for it in t«.hnol6g)' can) thro)~»gh all its political
:mtl f:u:f u :~ l n::~lity, unly he pn H'h$C1~d in fh:u ml:tgf' sphe r~
tv which profane iJiuminaOOn initiatu us. 0.-ly 'vben Jn
technology body and unagr oo irncrpcnetr:.ltc lh~t .:tU
rt'I.'Ohttion<lry tensic.m becomes hr;dily colle('flve innel'\'11-
t:i()n, and J.ll the bodily iMervatiOons ot" t~e coUecth·e
become ~oluti()tlilf)' disdurge. lw teollil) tratucet\dtd
it-:eli' lu fhc r.xtctll ~.lt:ma nded by the {.ffnrlm,·nr:.·t .11r:n~l~~NI. c.

A tt~:-v. t:ulk\:lin: ll~nJy ts bt:ino ot~mit.t:ll fi,r Lite iudi,·idual subJt:l:l hy

pnliri.:-31.1rwl rc;.:hnolot()c;al.::han!(c; and the func1inn of th(' c:riric is 10
fash:iQn tboiit images h)· which humanit~· c.m .JS:SUr.1e this unfamiliar
llt:sh. If the: t-u,dy I!> (;(,rtSaructcd •1u.t ••fim:lb'l!S, irn:!:;e-: ~ re in l h t~ir rum
forms of mcncrial practice. T he Tm~ompirfs \tndoin,; of tOC bod)' is
hardly~ plc:asur~!c aff2ir; but dtis may prove yet another insr.1nce of
h.isrory pr(,gres~tlg by j ~to bad side, :.inc~ dtt diSnl<'l !dliug ,,r uU IU.bc
organiciSt unitv is a ~'SS.at) prelude to tb(' Nne~C:."nCe of tl\c
mobile~ functional, multipurpose bod)· of 1eciu10logkal socialist
humauit)'. J u..-;t a:t lh~ llt::'.lh~lit: liu 1he t'igh ~t:ulh etulury iuvtJI~t"ll
that whelk new pr~mme of bodily c!isciplir.c·s we cs.ll manners,
imprinrin~ a grace and d«orou5t'IC'S'5 outhc llc:sh, jQ for DcnJ::unill 1he
body 01~1 be reprograJlUlltd and reu-.scnbtd b) tbe pw'ct 1hc or
SCUfiUOUS iuw.gt. fh ~ <aeSIJu:liC. OUC~ ugaifl, l:t~(JJU~S II ~Joli liC> O( lh t:
bo~t, Lbis time ~·ith a thoroughJ~· mG.ceTiillisti<' inlle<tion,
Thi$ "'hole side ar Dc:njanUn 's thought smacks of an ultra-
modernist technolog1sm, of lhou ilmricty to prO\·e h~ n-.utelio.Jist
manhond in ihr. St:eflli.::J I qeo: uf :1 Rn:t:h• whkh ~it'"~ Lme.llsUy with
the 1nn;;i:1rnr of Pro)nst :~~nd thr lon~r nf I .~skov. 'T here is a Str:&in of
 111£ M.UXIST 1<.\BBt

left functionalism and uiwnpholbm about this aspect of Benjamin's

writing, in which the body is conceived as instrument, I'2W matc:rW to
be organjzcd, even as machine. No greater contrast to this could be
imagined than the similarly mobile, pluralized, disanic:ulated body of
Bakhtittian ..,mival, which disowns all i.nstrument:Jlity in the name of
sensuous repleteness. If the project of aesthetics beJins in the
f:.nlightenmcnt with • judi<:ious reinsertion of the body into a
dangerously abstract discourse, we arrive ,.;th Mikhail Bakhtin at the
revolutiorwy consummation of that logic, as the body's tibidinal
prnctice e:.q~lodes the languages of rea.•on, unity and identity into so
many superfluous bit. ond ,piccos. Bokhtin presses the initial modest
impulse of the atsthctic to a fantastic extreme: what began with the
Earl ofShoftesbul)' and his fellows •• the «n<ual weU-heing induced
by a fine glass of p<>n has now becume a cockle of obscene laughter,
as a vulgar, shameless materialism of the body- belly, mus, ~tals­
rides roughshod ooer ruling-class civilities. For a brief, politico.lly
licen<td moment, me flesh makes its i.nslll'T«tion md refuses the
inscription of reason, pining sensation against COClcept and libido
against law, summoning the licentious, semiotic and dialogklli in the
face of that monological auth<Jrity whose UO'P'Jken name is Stalinism.
Like the con>-u:llation, caminl in\'Oivt'S buth a return to the particular
and a canstllnt ooerriding of identity, transgressinJ the body's
frontiers in a play of erotic solidarity with others. Like the
constellation too, it renders things non-identical with wmseM:s in
order to adumbnte a golden age of friendship and rcconcili2tion, but
refuses all graven images of such a gnal. Tbe dialectical i1mge sphere
of eamival (birthfdeath, bigb/Jo'o·, destrUCtion/renewal) reconstitutes
the body a.• collectivity, organize< a phpis for it, in just the way
Benjamin proposes.
For all his austerity and melancholia, this .Bakhtinlan vi.slon is not
t:ntirely foreign to Benjamin, who writes of tlle alienation effects of
epic theatre that 'there is no better stortin~ point for thousht tllon
laughter; spealdng more JODerally, spasms of the diaphrqm genenlly
offer better ch•nces for thought than spasms of me soul. Epic theatre
is lavish only in the occasions it offers far laughter.'" The alienation
effect disuntiateS the dranunic action, thwarts any intense psychical
invtStment in it on the part of an audience, and so permits a
pleasunble economizing of affect expended in laughter. For both
Bakhtin and Benjamin, lauglucr is the vtty type of ellpi'C.Ssive somatic

337
 ulll:r.lut.-.; ~m euuuci:rtion wl1id c spriugs p;lJ'<Iig.lu frum t.h e ht.,d(..
Li.bidiJul depths :md s.o for Btm1.1miu t!:lrri f!!\ n resnn:1nt:P. of the
endan'e~d $)'mbolic ()I' mimedc dimension <lf langtuge. Indeed it is
siguiftcaot d~il l whetJ he ~ ruts i J) his essay on sun e.d ism of tbt
r«'()nslJ'UCtion of rhe body, he remarks of the critic ""'h6 iorsgkcs a
litt:raf)· e;u-cer fo t the: building- of the image sphere that ' t()e jokes be
rell:<> lfl! rhe hr.tlt:r f( ~r it' .i> ' ll1c iuh· is a grnphit.:. t:•u•d eusctlltic..."'::c: nf
utterance tied d osely to the body, and so rypi c;~ l of what Benjamin
mt:ans ~· a.n cfft\.:ti\'t Una!,.'\:.
Hwnanit}·, l:len;amio writes in his essay on nK'Chaniclll rcproduc-
tioo, has reached such a d c!SICC' of 5clf-;~;l ie natioo 'Wt it un n!W'
e.ql c: ri~nt.-c il.s U\lo'll ..Je:.lrut.:timt as un ae.slht'tic ph:01.surc: of tJte li.r... t
order. This is the situation I){ polities which fascism is rcnd~ring
aestlle lic. Ct'lllll\luuis.n aespoud~ by j)uliticisi.tlg a(t.'l3 This f:u uou:.
fi nal phrn:)(: is ~~rdy no( ra o mmcnding 1h1; Ji~o':t'l." 111' an 1:-y
politics, as a certain ultra·leftiu c urrent of tbt(.H') haa •>CCasiooally
interpreted it. On abc: conrrary: Bcnj:urun'!> ~11 re..•olutu.mary politics
Ut in i JI Jt.iod$ ofwayi acsthctk-- ln lhc C'OtlCrete ptrttcuJarif?r' Ofth.;
COOsteJlaliOO, 1he 'aunuic' mir,.,i•( i'l,YJl'J'ftai•( which o1Ters a model
lOr rt:\·ohrtion:uy trad;rion, the: "hill (font d i:.4'u ur'>t: I•• scn,.umJs
image., lh~ ~storation of the la;'l~agt ()(the body. tbe cclebr~uion ()(
mim es i~ as :1 non·dt.•mirull\'P. n:buun hr:l'\\'t t:n hurnal!ily and ils
world. Beojamin is in search of a sumalisr hisrory and poJirics, on<:
which ding!i tenaciously ro the fra~nt, the miniature, tbc str011y
(ilalilm, h ut whidt impuct:. Llu::st: fc-..gmeub o noe upoo the other to
politically c~ploslvc ~ffcct, Jilcc th e- Mtsshth wb() will rranstigt~re tht"
world cotuplelcl) b,y aoakiug U)ioor adjuuments to iL The Denjamin
who once dn;amcd nrwriting: an t-:mirc wurk l.'tmSi:-.li.tiJ{' f•f nothit1g b ut
quotations i~ out to te'.l<'rite t~e whole of ,\1a"' as a montage o f
:mesting im:a~ ry, in wllit:h c"ery Jlrupt~iliutt will be prt:str,·ed e.ucdy
as it is )'C( transii)J'In('d out of rec()(.'niri(lll. Bm if his flOiiticJO arc in this
$cnse .aesthetic, it is only bec.-.use be h:as subverted almost :JIJ of
tradnional aesthetics= central catcg9rie1> {bc..luty~ ha rmony, rctalit)-.
appear:mce), .srarring ino,Je:uJ frmn wh.al Bn:dtt t.'.11lld d~c 'lxtd new
rhings' and diSOO\'Crillg i:n t.hc 5mlt;fllr'e or !hl~ C!WlUOOllil)', lh ti~UtJt
Q( srcrytdlini.f, the vJtuncy ()(historical time and the ltchno~~· of
t.'.:tpir31ism itst:l( thost Mes.,;i:anic impulses wllic.h arc still feebly an ir
thrre. Like: Ramklsiu:: l:knj11min hrin)pi lltt: ''t:l'~' new into sh-ocking
conjuo(tion •it.~ the ,·cry old. with atavistic memoriP.s ot a ::m:it:ty a.;
 TilE MAL'CIST MBBI

ytt unmarked by class-division, so th>t with Paul Klee'• tt~~&dw 11DfJilf

he can be blown backwanls into the future wilh his eyes fixed
mournfully upon the past.

NDits

I See Richard Wolin, W•bu Bmjomin: An Aathttir of !Wnlsprum (New

York. 1932), p. 130.
Z See Raymond Williams, 'Beyond Cambrid,e E,.llsh', in Wrili•l in
Soa'ey {London, 1983).
3 Scan Golden, 'Po!l·tnditional EnJlish tiruarun:: a polemic', iD Tltt
Cnme HIIJ &u• of /ris!r Stvdi<s (Dublin, 1982).
~ Georg LuUcs, Hiswry 111111 Cllm ComliDumn (London, 1968), p. 155.
5 Th<Odor Adorno, A<'Sih<li< Tlt<Ory (London, 1984), p. +S.
6 Lulcics, HisloryDJ Clau c....,;.,.,.,,, p. 163.
7 lb;d., p. 137.
8 Ibid.
9 See Georg Lukics, Dit Eizmon Ja AM!rttiJdrt~t (Neuwied, 1963).
10 St e JDrp HlbtrlllliS, 'Beorossanachmde od<r mlende Krilik - die
Al<tualitit Wahcr Bcnjamins'; in Siccfiicd Unsdd (<d.), Zar AtnuJ/iuit
Wlllttr /JnljDIIIins {Frankfun-am-Main, 1972), p. 205.
11 Waller Benjomin,'llufhitjnlf{Gmrwn T,.Dr.,... (l..,ndnn, 1977), p .
.J.4.
IZ Ibid, p. 33.
13 For extelL:nt acoounta of this process, see Richard Wolin, Wohtr
BtJtidmilt, ch:ap1er 3, a~~d Suun Bud·Morss, 17!t Orixi• of Nt11fliot
DiakdiJJ (Hassocks, 1977), chapter 1>. .
H Theodor Adomo,MiniiiiD Mo"'lil (London, 197~). pp. 151-2.
IS Ste Oa'rid Frisby, F,..fiMIIJ ofMHmtiiJ {Cambrid!<, 19&5).
16 See Susan Buck-Mom, 17lt Qririn ofNrzot/ot Di4/mU:J, clup«cr I.
J7 Se~ Tbeodor Adorno. 'Letters ro W•lttr Benjamin', in Ernst Bloch dol.,
A.ttlutiD 111111 PoliiU. (Loodnn, 1977), pp. 128-JO.
18 Wolter Bmjomin, 'A Small Hinory ofPhoiOIJ'lphy', in Oat-Woy Strtd
(Loadon, 1'179), p. 252.
19 S.niamJJI, lf«lhttiD 111111 Polltia. p. 129.
20 See Theodor Adorno, ~ocr Siim:alismus•. in Notm z"r Litl'f'tm.lr, vol. 1
(Fra•lkrurt-aro-Moin, 1958).
21 See Bloch et al.,AollmiD cJPoli1ia, Presr:ru:otion 111.
ZZ Bmj.antin, O....Wq Str«t, p. 70.
13 Sec 'Naples', in Benjamin, 0..-Wq Strttr.
339
24 Benjamin, Origi• t(Guwum Tr~ Dra-. p. 218.
25 Benjamin, 0..-Woy Svttt, p. 239.
26 Walter Benj...W., Vttimhwlint8r<tltt (l.c>ndon, 197J). p. 101.
27 Benlamln. Onc·WI.J Surrt. p. 238.
28 Walter Benjamin, 'The Work of .o\rt in the .~ge of MecbaniCill
Rcproducrio11', in H. Arendt (ed),/1/...UJVUiJw (l.ondon, 1973), p. 2+1.
 13

Art after Auschwitz:

Theodor Adorno
An 'aesthetic' thought is 0110 ttuc to !he opaclry of Irs object. Bat if
lhoughl is COIJCeplual, and so gener•l, how can ' aesthetic thought' be
other thaD an OX)moron? How can the mimi not betray the objcc'l in
the Yery act of possessing it, strUggling to register its density and
recakitrnnce at just lhe point it impoverishes it to some pollid
universal? It would seem !hat the crude linguistic in>-uumenrs .,;lh
which we lift a thing towards us, prcscrWig as much as possible ofits
unique quality, simply succeed in pushing it further away. In urder to
do justice to the qualitative moments of the thing, lhoupt mwt
thicken its nwn texture, grow gnarled and close-grained; but in doing
so it becomes a kind of object in its own right, sheering off from lhe
phenomenon it hoped to encircle- As Theodor Adorno renu.rks: 'lhe
consistency of iiS performance, lhe density of its texture, helps lhe
lhuugbt to miss the mad:'.'
Dialectical thinking seeks to grasp whatever is heterogeneous to
thought as a moment of thought itself, 'reproduced in thought itself as
iiS imiiWicnt conuadktion'.' But since one risks eradicating that
heterogeneity in the \'CI)' act of rdccting upon it, this enterprise is
always teetering on the brink ofbloy,ing itself up. Adorno has a kind
of running solution to this dilemma, and that is srylc. What negotiates
this COIIttadicdon is !he crabbed, rebarbative pr•ctice of writing itself;
a disrourse pitched into a constant s .. te of crisis, twisting and looping
bad on itself, struggling in !he sttucturt of every sentence to avoid at
once a 'bad' immediacy of the object and me f3lse sclf-idenriry of the
concept. Dialectical thought digs !he object loose &om its illusory
self-identity, but thereby risks liquidating it within some gh~-dy
conccntndon camp of the Absolure Idea; and Adorno's .promlonal
 response to this problem is a ser of guerilla raids on the inarticulable,
a style of philosophizing which frJJnes the object conceptually bur
manages by some cerebral acroboltics to glance sideways at what gives
such generalized identify the slip. Every sentence nf his turs is thus
forced to work oveniJne; e:tdt pl:o:z.>, mu•1 bocome a tittle IIIISicopil:cc
or mirnde of dialct"tics, fixing a thoughr in the second before it
disappears inw its ow11 conttadiclions. Lil<e Benjamin's, this style is a
consteU.tvry one, each sentel1Ce a kind of crystallized c:onundrum
from which !be DCllt is striCtly non-deducl>Je, a tight-meshed
econmny of epignunmatic iiP"fUS in which cv<-cy part is somehow
autonomous yet inlricately rcl•tcd to ita feb·s. All Mmdsr
philosophers are supposed In he dialectical thinkers; but "ith Adorno
one C3Jl feelrhe swear and strnin of this mode alive in every phrase, in
a language rammed up again.il silence where the reader bas no sooner
registered rbe one-llidedness of some proposition than lhe opposite is
inunediardy prO!>"'etl.
The complaint thar we live in some disabling gap between concept
and thing become< in the hands of thinkers less subdc than Adorno 1
kind of category mor. Vihy should lhollrl11s be like thlnrs, any more
than the !lOtion of freedom sbo<tld resemble a ferret! Behind this
nominalist plolnr rhar words ' iolate rbe quiddiJy of thiors, which is far
from Adorno's own reflections, lies a nosl21sia for the happy garden
in which every objecr wore irs own word in much the way that every
flower ftaunrs irs peculiar scent. Bur the faCI lhat language
uoi>ersolizes is part of what it is, not some lapse or lintit from which
we might hope to be cured. It is not a defect of the word 'foor' thar it
refers to more feetlhan my own two, carel.ss of rho peculiarity of my
own pcn;onal pair. To mourn the non-particularism of language is as
rnispbced as rq;relling lh.at one cannot rune inro the·World Cup on a
washing mocloine. The concept of a thing is not """"' pule menial
replica ofit, damasingly bereft of!be thing's sensuous tife, but a set of
social practices - a way of doing something "irb lhe word which
denotes the thing. A concept is no more like an objecr than the use of
a spanner is like • spanner. Poeb)l strives to phenomeruilize languarc,
but this, as Adorno sees, is entirely self-defeating, siace the ll10re II
labours to be tike the thing the more it become.' a thing in its own
right, which resembles the object no more rhan a squirrel resembles
the slave trade. Perhops it is a pity rhar we Jack a word to capture rhe
unique aroma of coffee - that our speech is wizefltd and anBCmk,
ranfth~ fn:1m Ihe lasiC: :uul f.:el ft f rnlily. Bul In)"'' t:Oult.l a "''OrJ, a!'t.
opposed 10 a palr of nostrils, taprur..:- the aroma of an)'lhing, and ish a
maner of failure that it does not?
This r. n ul 111 sugx.::.t, un lh~:; Olht:r ha•KI~ lhal :\don:.o is mislalen
in bclic\ing: QUrconeepts to be rcifitd and inadequate, tdrifl from our
st:Jlsuous pt-aclk."e; lodeed il i.s prtcilel)· in his con,em to rerum
thnugfu lulht: hu-Jy, h:ml il scmu::thing uf lhc: btK1:t'S ft:t:l and fulluesil 1
that he is in the most traditi011al sense of the word an ac~thcric-iar!.
Hi!> Wl)rk~ b o~·e\·et, lttt:alds tWe lllO•netUl) US shill or elll.ph;~.s is ill that
ttlldirion. For what thE;> body xigrlllo.: ffl .'\dflmn i"' nm firSI nf all
pleasure but sufferln~;. In the shacklw of A1.1s<h\\itz h Is in sheer
pb~ico:LI wretchedness, in human shapes 3t tbe end of their tether,
that the body once more obtn1des itseJt inro tht mrefied workl of rhe
pltiJosophers. 'If thougt\1 is not measured by the cxtrtmity th:at dudes
du: routt:pl,' he: teJttarlt.$ iu Nr,t~Jiit'~ [hakriir::, ~it is (rum lht' Oub d in
the nature of t.l-cc musk•l fl('('Ompan!m~ru 'olti th wb.i<h the SS liktd t D
dJOWfl out !Le SCl'e:llltS of ita> victi.m..s.'' [ vtn this intokr.1.ble llgony, of
t~Otlf'>t:, musr sumchuw t:ng:agr. the it.lc::a of plt:'.!...,urahk \llell~hci ng. for
how could we mc.,sun· ndTa-irtg wi1ho11t such an implidr nurm: Rm
if there is, any b-asil! at ~I for a universal history1 it it r.OI a tak of
('Umubti\·e happim:~ hul, a...: Adt,mo (.'Umm.:nl!'\, lhl! n:arr:.tj\·e ilutl
leads from the Uingsh<lt to the megaton bomb. 'The One and t\JI dut
keeps rolling on to this day - with oe<::aSfon'll bruthin£: spells- would
tcloologically bt the abs.olure ofS\Jtfering.'" There is inde('Ci 1 :1$ Man:
recogniz<d. 2 singular global story whk h WCP~s all n1en and women
in1o ill': rabrit:, from the Stunc A~ e to Sl3r Wars; but il is 01 lale of
S('an.iry ~nd oppn.:ss.ion~ "Of of surt';t.-,<;:;- a f:thlc.. as .\tlnmn rml s i1, nf
permMtnt catastrophe. The body hu &.·ed on, despite the depredations
of insiTtlmr.nt!ll reason; hul in the N::azi Lkatlt 1.·:mqm Ibust: t.kprt:&t-
tions have nO\\' rtt.."'COI1'1'1ishcd thr.i:r dcadlkst work. For Adorno. there
c-an be no real hlstol')' aticr tucb an e\·ent> juSt L'i.e twilight or
:lftl~nn allJ i-n Which llmt! qit( IDU\'t:S (io;tfi'!'I:Sl)', V:U:.JI)USly 1111, t:\'Cn
thouth humanity itself has oom(' to a fuU s.to.p. For a jew like •\domo.
tb(re cao onl)' be tbe guilty ltl)'st<ry that one is still. b)· some
U\'erSight~
ulivc:. AdonuJ':. puliliC::s of tJn: boLiy j::; tbus tht ~ ~ry lt'ftr.'it!
or lJAkh,inian: the- on~ imane of the body \l.'hkh is more thAn a
blasphemous lie is Stark and lkt!lt t:.al, the poor (orkcd creature of
Dcdtthao humanity. In the wake of tht N;ui$, the whok: aesthetic.
conL"l."f'n with sen!'>:l.rinn, u'ith the innocent c:rc.1111.rely lif~, ha,. hcn:!me

343
 irrtvcr~i.bfy distig·u..ed - fiH iu~is:u, us Adowu argut:s i" Mi~t ima
:Hrmdi:o, •"'.._" 1hc: ab.;ohuc .'i(;tlS.1finn . . i(l rh<' Third Reidt rhe
abstr'.act horr·cr of news 2nd rumour 'o\' 2i tnjo-yed .as the only stlruulus
s unic ieut 10 im::ih: :a !m•mt:nbry brilrN m lh~ w~l>f'ned s.;n"•'lrimn of
rhc.~ m.'lsscs·.~ Sensation in snrh <'01\ditions bcccm4!.~ a matter of
comrnodi&ed shock-,-aJue resardkss o( come;nt: C'.trything ('all noVr
h c._,. .m ~ ph.!l5 tn~, .i•tSt as th~ d.:s(' n si ~ morpbin<' addic-t will grab
incfisoimin;nely a l any drug. To po5iit the body and its ple.uurei as :an
unquestKl!lo:sbJy uilir mouive C"Jh::gQl)' is;:, d o:~Jagt!m us illu)liuu, iu a :tc1c:ial
unll:r "A~ hic:h n:irlcs ancl r<:gnl:ncs c.,"orporclll pk~swc for its own ends
iust as r<lcntlessly u it colonir..es the mind ..'\ny return to the body
.,..,hid 1 (:ail..; Lo r~.:d nn this lillth intn iro: c:lfcul;uions will b€' merely
naWc:; ;md it is (0 t\do rno~s cr<'dic that conitlou s of this as he is, he
does no« flinch (rom uying to rt:d«m whac be .,;;;.Jls the 'souutic
tnmncnl' of Ulf::.rniriun ~ th:;r irreduciblt> cfim~ns;ion which ~(C'Ompll nie s
all our aces of coruclousness but can ncvtr be exhlus~d by them.
The acsthc;ti' project must not be Jbaud onc~ C"t:ll if i1s lcnns (Jf
rd'crcm.:t! han: hct:n Jll:mtlmt:!tlh tain~t~l hv lnsci"m 11nd 'rna.;s'
socicry.
·n~ inadtl)ualiou t:eL,..,ccu thing ami L:tml·t:pl is imrMri:J.!tll) 1".'-o-
",.Y· Jfthc cooccpc <'lin OC'\'f r appr'Oflri'rc; the object without leaving a
remainder, then i1 is aJw true !ll.at the- object - 'fr«don1'. for u ample
- fail!;. m :w;hievP. the fullrw.ss promised by irs ~(.nt; -: p• . Wtun prev(>fli:S
us from full) pOSsessing tht \l'Orld is ab.o what in\'Csts tb.at world with
some w.an hope. the lad wh1cb spuri tbe tbing out of its self-1dentity
so as tu ri~e ltJ v.hat i1 migtu in p: im:iple bet:ultu:. Au itknlit}· uf
ronctpl sr.d phcnorr.cnon is for 1\dorno •th<' p:lmsf !Qrm of
ideology'," ;~nO ."\uscbwirz. coofitrood the philoso.pheme ol pure
idc:nlit; ~s death; hul IC1r him Lht::rc: i:-o a l ~·a}·s anuthcr :-.iLk: lo the ~lury,
unlike those prc:sent-doty theorists whose plur.aJism would seem to
..... ~.Jr a li nl~ thin "':heu it u 1mes tu R:UJgnWug that illcntit,t. tut>, cau
han: irs value. 'l.i\·inl{ in 1hc: n:hukc: thai 1hc 1hin1< i~ nul H.it::ntiL-:al willa
tht: ('01'W::('J\f', ·\OOrno writes, 'i" rht concept'! lrrntt/nt Ul i:tecom~
iden tic~ with the thing. T b.is is ho.w the scn.se of noJt-iciCJUity
oontaius itlcfttity. The suppo~ til)ll (,(identily is imfted the ide(,l\lgical
clemt:nl uf pure thuughl all 11-.c: WU)' thruugl: lo !nrn.al lt~K:; bu t
hidden in i1 is 3lSo the tl'uth mocn~ nt ofid~tllo~;. the- plc<l.~tt tht t aherc
sOO\Ild be:: no contradictio•l, no :mtagonism.'; It w()uld he a grim
prospect if the cou<tpt .;,( libctl}' (J( eq\lalicy· tcally Y~ ::.s ld(!Jlricoll ·voirh
3~ 4
tbe poor rra,.·eny of it we obscrvr around us. Our cunent con«prions
of identity Cilll bt shaken DOt ooly by difference. but by 3.il idenrit)'
whic;h wt.m ld be tJlhcrwi')OC- whidt hdun~ If) lhe prulitiuf rutun:, IIUI
which reverberates as a faint e"bo or pledge of rccoDCiliation even in
uur liHJt>l paranoid present-day idemilica.Liuns. T hat ~·tu.:h • lllougbt
is sea nd~ lOI.IS ro che mere ('(}ctmuion of rliA(:rcm:•: is a mc::asurc nf irs
subversi\•e force.
Cl :~ 'isil:.1 1 di:de(;ricd thougtu. fur u.•hkh \ :untr:ulit:tilllt is null-
identity under the ilgn of identity! ,'<~ is perfectly capabk of rcgisce.ring
tbe heterogeneous: it sitrl(lJy aueasure5 it by iu om1 pnnciplcs of
unily, 1l1crehr cuuiJy rt:d uniug in Lu ilsdf wh:.ll il h:ls just
acknowledged to be in~ducibly ~xtcrior. Whtt it em-acts from the
\•hit:ct is ,)1\ly wh·a t w:as :drt:Klh iu ai\)' ease ,~ thc.ugb.t.lukwno, on the
orhc:r hand, bdiC\'t:s wi1h the dc(:onsan1crh•r: thr:ury he pn:Ji)(Urt:~
1-lmc>st in its entirety in ljdcntity1S dep(ndence on the noneidcntica('."
The indissuluhle nll.L"'t hr. hw ughl into its i )Wtl in cun..:cpls, nul
substlm('d under an abstract id('a in dtar grncraliz.cd barTer of tb('
mind which mirrors the equaliziDJ exchJ.ngcs o:' the Jl'lalket place. for
:\duntCI <~.S f«J r ~ie~sclat., idc:Jllific..IOI)' llmughl llliS its :MuJ-ce io Lhe
~yc-i a nd ~tomac h., 1M limbs -and mouth. The pre-hisrory of such
\'iOlent appropti:ation of Olhtroess is tful.t of the: ea1Jy hullt.,Jl predalr>r
oul lu dt:\'tiiUr tht- nol- l. l>uminuti,•r: re11sfln is ' Lhe hell)' lurned
mind', •~· and iucb ar:JVistic rag~ agsinst ochcrncss is the haUmartc of
e\·ery high· a:nioded idealism. AU pbilosOph)·, tvtllthat ·~hit:h iuLt:utb
li't t:durn, bt:ars wirhin it~ J r li let~ a primordilll urge the ( (l(:rdon b)'
whlch society prolongs ics opprcss:ive exinence. But for :\domo there
is alwaY$ another 5tory, ;tnd thJs particular atgumem is no exceptiou.
'lbe roerci\:entss of rbe idcnthy pri.nciplt, insra.Ued u th.: heart or
Enlightt nmenr reason, is also whar prevents th0\lgh1 (i.om lapsiug
inl(l lllt:re lic:tnce; :.lfW iu il:-> uw.' lt patholu,;ical way iL pamdie:., u..., well
liS f(lnes(•lls, some authentic reconciliation. of wbjcct aDd objccL
\\lu.t is required, thc.n. is ;il ratiooal critiqu.c o( reaM:Jn, not illl
b.:aoishrucnt ot <&bolitioom - hartlly a ~uryrrising llUsilinn lilT unc:
whom 1he abolirirm of rt•~n c1rove inro ~lc. T he problem is how to
prise loo:iC me grip of ao insaoe rationaiily without J..llowing the
slighte-st opening 10 some ba1barous im•.ti.otalj!i>m.
Th.IS pro;e«:t in"'()lvi:S tb.inking thruugt. the rtla1ions b.;t•oA,:ccn
unWe ~l ;~Dd pan:iC\•Iar once again, this rime on some model other
dws that of th( singular law which tbncos aU speciftcil)' lO its o~~o·u
H5
image .ll.lld JikcQ~SS. lf Adorno's style ia tortuous 1nd unsettling, it is
partly bcuwe these relations arc tht msd;cs fraugh t and unquic:t.
fi.weve:r likely 10 :;lip out of ((w;u:; :1!:> he stetffl: ~ prte;:ariQII!:> ('()\ItS('
betw<en the ScyU. of blind pankulari•m and lht Charybdis of lh<
t)nnnical concept. 't:tvefltnivc nomlnalisan', he writes, 'is as wmug
ts me realism that equips ' titJJible laogu11gt \l.'ith rht:" 1nribures or•
revealed one .m The way to avoid an ow~ssi~•c lot.ality is through the
constellation:

"M: arc not to phil<rsophis< Jbout concrete thingtj wear~ to

philoSllJ)bisc, r:athr::r, l•ut of Lltosr:: lhings . . • tberc is uo
!.'«11-b}··stcp progn::s:;ion from the conctpts to :\ !llf)l'<'
gen~r;al cover concept. In st~ad, the concept&enrer into a
conS"tt!flltion . . . Ry !,'::tdt ~nng aruund the ubjv.c:t nf
cognition. the concepts poc.cnrialt)' de-termine me objccr's
mterior. T he)' a\tl.in, in thinking, wllat ~ oc<(ssarity
e.~cised from thinting ·~

Pat·adoxicaUy, howc\lcr, this circum.w:ntion o(tou.li ~· is ooly possible

ht:t1lU!'iC uf il. Jf it i~ lmt: thai '••bjcc:lively ·- twl jusl lhru~h thc-
knov.i~ subject - the whole whi<.'h rhcor; c~res scs is eon1ained in
the itldi\·idual object ro be allalysed'/ ' tfti-s i.s because iJl ;a.n
incr~:a'iing\)' a• lm inist1: r~d. manipula1 ~1l "''1trhl 'the mute· li;chth' tht:
netw()rk of general definitions C<J\'C~ itS QbjcCIS. tll ~ Vre:&t~r will be
th\:: t~:nck m.)' ur indi\•tuual (:It;\~ lu IJ.;: dir~l.1 ( J'all S{l:lfl:lldc~ of tltd r
t.m.iv4: ~1s, fllld the grtn(er tht yield " \if':wer Qbt:Jins. prec:isf:'ly by
microk;gic<'.l im.mersion'.1; W~ m~ rorgtt about totality. but IOtaliry,
for good or 1JI, wrll not fo rget .:~bout u~ , tftO m our mo.st mir::roscopic
medimdoM. J( we ('lln l.tn{'Qd: fhe whnh: fmm the mtlo.:t humht ~
parricuJ.u~ gErnpse ertmiry in a graln oi s.1nd, this is because we
inhablt a socud order whicb tolcr.ncs p;u1icularit)· only as ;~ n obedient
inoa:mtiarion of rhe un ive~l. u.'t! mus.t l1n lnngcr :tim rtluu!rhl directly
at this tOHi lit)·~ bot nc;ith,('r :;ho11ld we; :;urr(nrlrr our.>dw:,;; w sume
pur~ phy ot" diO'"er(n<"t. which would be quire :t~ roonotooons as the
dreariest self- id(t'!tity :and indeed finally indistinguishable from it. 11'
Wv. nmo,l f".Uhcr gr:asp tht! rruah tb.:ll tin: imJh·idwd ;;.; both tm.rt' am.l
1~!1 rhan it' g-eneral dc-fir. irifm, anc~ rh:u 1he print-;rdc uf iJ t:ntit_y is
altlf2)'S sdf-contr-J.dictory, ?trpctuuing non-ldc!"'t hy in damaged,
S.Lif)j)lC-'sed fO:•n1L :.IS :.a C'Ottdition of its beiUJ·
 .'Jrr AI'1U A\JSCHWn7.

The plaoe where panicular and unh·ersal consort most h:umuniously

is traditionaUy supposed to he an. The acslhctic, as we h2vc seen, is
!hat privileged condition in which the low of the whole is nolhinr: but
lhc interrelations of lhe pans. Bu 1 if this is true, !hen each part is still
governed by what is in eJTcct a toed system; and it is !his chiasmus of
the aesthetic which. Adorno will try to outlbnk. In art, the
emancipation of the panicular would seem merely to lead ro a new
form of global subordination; and lt is surely not difficult to see how
this contradiction corr~onds to the amphibious nature of bourgeois
society, in which lhe ideo! of an int<rellange of autonomous
indmduals i• consuntly thwaned hY th<: persistence of exploitation.
TI>e wor.k of art appears free from the ,·iewpoint of its panlcular
elements, but these ckments appear unfree from the standpoint of
the law which surreptitiously nwsbals them int<> unity. In a <imilar
way, the indi•idual subject is free from the viewpoint of lhe m:arket
place, but not from lhc perspective of the stale which violently or
manipulatively preserves !hat market plaee in being. Adorno seeks to
recust lhe relations between global and spedfic by finding in the
aesdletic an impulse to reconciliation between !hem which must
MVer quite come off, a utopian )'earning for iclentity which must deny
itself under pain of fetishism and idulauy. The wort of an suspends
idemi1y without cancelling it, broaches and brc.&ches it simullalleOU!Iy,
refusing at once to underwri~ ant>gonism or supply false consolation.
If its movement is thus one of pezpctual deferral, this is I<$$ because
of some ontologk21 condition of language than heause of the
judaeo-Marxist prohibition on the fashioning of gra•en images of a
political fuiUJ'C which mu>t nonetheless be rcmtmb<Ttd.
Att may thus offer an allenwlvc tn thought, which for die i\domo
of Du.kaie of Eofitlummnfl has become inherently (l"thological. All
ntiooality is now instrumental, and simply to think is therefore to
violate and Yittimize. A •atid theory could ordy be one which thinks
ogninst itself, undoes its <>tty oct, achie.·es a frail e\'OC:Ition of !hat·
which its own discursiYity denies. Emancipatory thought is an
cnoi'II'IOWI irony, an indispenaable absurdity in which the cooct!)tis at
once cleploycd and disowned, no sooner posited than surmounted,
illuminating trulh only in the dim glare of tight by which it self-
destruCts. The utopi.a of knowledge ,.-ould be to open up the non-
i:octceprual to concepiS without rendering it equiVlllent to them; and
this in•olves reasoo somehow bouling itself up by its own booiStnps,

347
 for ir thought is intnosicaJJy \'tolatory how ha:i 11~ 1hougbl whidt
thinks this mrrh not already fAllen \•icrim tll rhe very crime it.
denounces?
If emancipator}' Lh.(lught is a s<-:.~ftd:dous eomraditliuu, su m 3
dill'i:rc:nl senM: is lflr. dnminmi ...~ rca<;on it ::i!Wlrs to unlock.
Historically speaking. wch reason hdps 10 rcluse the "If from its
msb'll!:uenl lo nl)'lh anJ Nalurc; hut in a d ev3srnring in.m}' the <I rive
ro this cnablinr autMoroy inelf hardens into a kind of ferodous
animal compulsion. sub-.'Crting the very frtedom tl sets in Jli<~Ce. In
(tpt e~J)g it:> own imlt:r uuture in lht: of imJc:pcncleocc:, r'hc
tiiU1lt:
su~t finds itself throttling the very sponmncity whieh its break with
~:&ture su)>p0$Cd1y set free - so lhat tht updt~ of iiU !his ~trenu(lus
labour (A'individuaJiflu is at I Ultth:rmiuing .,r lht: l!gu rmm ,.itt.in, as
the $tlf IO'aduaiJy implodes into some empty. mechanical coniormit)·.
T1te iotgi.tlg f1.f lh~~: egu i ~ Lhus a u :uohinl.:lldy auattciJ'alury ami
rern::s:;i\·c; L"YI,.:nt; ancJ thr. unconscium; i$ marked hy a simil:u d\lalit;·.
promising us some blissfUl ae.nsu.ous fu!6JmCI'lt but threatenir~g at
every momtllt to du-ust us back to chat a.·chatc, utldiff~•~utiattd ~talt'
in 'k'hich we '~ no lon~r sub;Ms at t.IJ, lc-r al.ont Jibcntttd ones.
Fascism then gives us the wont of all possible wo..-Jds: the toro1
wutuuJOO N•lure 11vt:r which un imtH:riuu., n:asun has Lrsmplcd
rctums witb a ~ngcancc as blood. guts and soil, but in the cruclJut of
ia·ouies is oow lurutssed 10 that btu.raUy tatsltwuenla1 tt"..t..liuft iLM:If, in
auutthuly t:uupling oflhc anl\'isrit.~ and fUutri<;tit;, swvagl' irrsri1)1'1alism
1nd technological dominion. For i\domo. the self is rent by an
intemll 6ssun, OUld tile name for the c~crittlee of Jt Ls sutTcring.
How,. th en~ is •hv. idtf'lrity of tbe subjecr, wtlich i ~ n conS(innive
moment oi its freedom and autonomy, ro be combined wilh lhe
scnsuCMJsncss and t.pontaneil)' on which the dl'ivt to autortU!ll)' llO:IS
jnfiic~ Sl!K!h grievous dflmllge?
Adorno's soludon ro tbis riddJc is the acsrhecic - in so far, that is, as
;an js I)QW pv.s6ibJe ;U alL ModcnJism is iilrt fvrct:d into •uult :odf-
c:t.mrrndiction; :and thl! ..:lmr«:P- nf thi" imr:mol imr:asse liP..<o in :1rt' s
contrndictory materird snm•s within bourgeois socie1y. Ctdnrre is
dteply locked into the suucrur( of oomm.C>dity production; b\n ooe
effect ofdUs is t~ re lc~c it into a cert:Un ideological autonomy, hence
oum..i ng it f() ~..tt :.g:~ irN lhe: ve:ry .srw..i.:t.l llrlltr \\'ith whit:.h it is
gtti.lril)· romplkir. It i.o; rhi$ C:OITlJ'Ilir.:ity which spurs an into rnnc:st, hur
wbich also strike$ that protest agor.ized ;md iDCtTcctu.al, fo rmal
gesture rather dum irate polemic. Art can only hope to be valld if it
provides an impUeit critique of lite oonclilions which produce it - a
validatinn which, in evoting an's pri\lileged ~moteness from such
conditions, instantly iowlidates itself. Conversely, art <.. n only be
aulhentie lflt sUCIItly acknowledges how deeply it is compromised by
what it opposes; but tn pres< tbi.< logic too far is precisely ro
undermine its auth<:nticity. The aporia of modernist culture lies in its
plaintive, stricken anempt to tum autonomy (tile free-stand ins nature
of the aesthetic \tUrk) •!l"irlst autonomy (irs functionless st:ttus as
commodity on me market); what warps ir into non-self-identity is the
inscription of hs own m•rerlal conditions on irs interior. It would
seem that art must now either abolish itself entirely - the audacious
strategy of tile avant pde -or ho•·er indecisively bcrween life and
dealh, subsuming its own impOS<ibiliry into it<elf.
At the same linK, it is this internal slippage or hiatus witlrio the •rt
work, this impossibility of ever coinciding exactly with l~lf, wblch
pr011ides the very source of its crit.icol power, in a world wbere objects
lie petrified in their monotonously sdf-samc bcin!;, doomed to the
beD of being no more than thcmseh·es. It is as lhougb Adorno, who
was nevei much entranced by the .,,.•nt S"rde and can hardly bring
himself to say a polite word about Benoit Brecht, seizes upon the
dilemma of culrure In late capitalism :md prC5SCS it to a calculated
extreme, so that in a defiant rf'\lersal it is the very impotence of an
autonomous an which wiU be wrenched into its fioesr aspect, victory
snatched from the jaws of defeat as an's shaming privilege and
futility is ,,.rried to • Beckettian limit and at that point begins to veer
on its axis to become (negative) critique. Like Becken, Adorno
maintains a compact with failure, which is where for both Jew a~>d
Irishman all authcntidty must stan. An artistic va<-uity which is the
product of social «>ndirions, and so pan of !he problem, can come by
some str.~ nge logic to ligure as a creative solution. The more an
suffers thU relentless l:muriJ. the more powcrfttlly it spc,.ks to its
historical epoch; the more it turns its back un social issues, the II10f<:
poliricolly eloquent it grows. There is something perversdy self-
d efeating about this aesthetic. which takes it cue from • oorible
comradlclion of' auronamous' culrun:- the fac"t that an's irulcl'Cndcnce
of soci:U life permits it a critical force wbich that same autonomy
tends to cancel out. 'Neutr.disation', :.s Admno commenas, 'is the
social price art pays for its autonomy.'" The more sociaUy dissociated

349
 :m iw:CXlntcs, the moK SC'$1ldaklusly "Subvcni\'C and un«ly poindeu it
is. For ln to r<for, evc:n prottstingly, is for it to become innantly
co!lusi\t wi1h what it CJf)I)OSts; uegarion uegute:'i ilstH bt'<.:a u~.: it
tAnoot help pooili.n8 tbc very object it desires ':0 dcstrQoy. .\ny positi\·c
Cllunciatjoo is compromised by tbe ' 'ct)' f.:~ct of being i ucb; aod it
lu.U"w" thai whal onc i.; ld) with i.; the 1•un::s1 imrnim uftlu: )!Ntun~Q f
n~ g:Uion itself, which musr nc\'cr str~· ii'e,;m the clcv3t<:d kvd of fcnm
f ( J :uayl hillS a.~ lowly as <.:Ouh:nt. So it is t.ltar .'\dtn-uu COtnes II• rd lf~se
,.,.;th 11 "<'"' in~.x:rirm ,.()the rcac:1ion.uy d id tCs u:hkh a commimd :1r1
rustomaril)' aruacrs. railiog at ks suppO.«d schem;rtism and reduct:Msoo.
Tlie moos profo ulldly political wcJrt is oue lha1 is emirdy ~ilt:u l ahou1
polhics, as tOr some the $!:rt"atcs~ poet is one who has OC\'Cr iiullitd bis
genius with ;anything ~s sordidly de1erntin~.1e as :a potnt.
Fur '\durno. all an umlain~ u utupian m11!Ucnt: 'evt."ll in I he muse
sublio1arcd wor~ of art there is 3 hidden "'it .¥hould ~o therwise" . ..
as tlilifteJltly .:OI)SliUCLed :~lld pi(,Juced ob.iecls, W01'ks of ar-~
induding 1-iu:rary Hfii: S~ pninl 10 :t pracli(:c: lrllm which <hc.:y ah:cotain:
the crtaO.on of a just life! .1" B)' thcir sheer prC$Ct!CC. anef.'le'ts testiJ)· to
the poss1btlit)' of the 11on-existc nt~ su ~-pend ~ ng " debased cmpincal
exisr~ce tmd thns e1'PrE"ssing an llO('On::ciotrs df.sin.o to cl'lange the
world. AU art i!i conse~!ttntfy ndic.tl - lln optimism which i.s merely
d:tc' orher {..,ce of Adu·mo's pofitic11l ptS6iO.lLSilt, and t:\'tr) bi! ..._..
indiscriminate. Pope's 1:.5Ul)' -'11 MoM must tOr .:\dorno be politically
progtess.ivt 1 aud perhaps more so Lha.n Mtt(/l(r Cour~~t'. since he
~(•tternJI~ fl i)s II) l':XIc:nd t u the rr:mJw iun:uy :l.',:tlll g~m.J t thE:
ab10lution from its ; ins of ('Citucnt he granti co :m in gtfl('l':ll. Simply
by ''irtuc of its forms, art :spt.ak&up for the contjng!!nt, sen~uou$ and
non - i den rk:~l, hf~s witut:">'i hi lhto ngbls (•f rh v. n ..-pn!"'""ed aor:~ inst ltle
campulsirt parbologyof lhc M:k111ity principk-. lt n:c:trnws the rcladons
between the intcl l ~.tn·c and the perceptual. md b K:antian ''tin i.s
similar 10 the COI'I cept \\ithout f~Cnllllly ~mi ng rm e~ reli.',l )ing fl
minttic. oon ..conceplu<tl potentiaL The an<f! et tips dlc b a l~ncc
bcrwtCJ1 subjeci and object titmJy on tht sick M the: lAtttr, ousting the
UnpcriaJjs.n <>f reason with a sensuous reupri•·ity to tbe ibing; lt thus
C'ont11ins a memory trace of mimesi');. of An e•11t1hle :lftinil}' berwe~:n
humanir; and naru::c:, wh.k.h arnicipa1c.s some f\llurt r<"toncllialion
berv;cen the individual and the collec:ti\'e. As a •oon ..regreMr.'C
im~gr<1ric)n of tlivergem:c.;·. 1h~ :m wmt tr:u ..~~.:cndJ- the ant:tgunistn"
of ~:v (ry·th)' life: wirhnur rmtmisi-ng rn ah;,li,.;h rhc:m; it i,, rhcn:furc,

350
 AJ\T AI'TER AI.:SCH\\1TZ

perhaps, 'd1t only remaining medium or 1ruth in an age of

lnCOinfll'cltcnsiblc tCITOr and sullering'." In It, tl!e hiddeft irr.uion•lity of
a rntionalized soci.ecy is brought to light; for •rt is u 'r:ttional' cud in
itself, whereas capitalism i• irrationally so. Art has a kind of paratactic
logicatil)· about it, •kin to !hose dre.tm images which blend cogency
and contingency; and it ntight thus be said to represent nn nrationnl
reason confronting an ·irrational rationality. If it actS as an implicit
refutation of instrumctltali.7.cd reason, il i.'i no mere abstract negation
of it; rath.,., it revoke> the 'iolent'< inflicted by such reason by
emancipating utionality from its present empirical confinement, and
so appears a.s the process by which rntiona6ty criticb.es ilse1fwilhout
being •blc to overcome itself.
It would be quitt mi.~en, however, to imagint that Ad<>m n
uncritic;11ly uffinns mGtie rnisl culturt., setting it over :lgo'ljnst ~
dominative society. On the contrary, an is by no means free of tlte
principle of domimlion, which takes tlte shape within it of its
regulative or constructive drive, that impulse which invests it witlt a
provision.al unity and identity. 1be more the wori: of :ut seeks to
liberate itself from external delerminations. the more it becomes
subject to self-positing principles of O'B"nization, wltich mime and
internalize the bw of an adminincrtd society. lronicaUy, the 'purity'
of the modernist worl< 's form is borrowed fr(>!U the technical,
fimctiooal forms of a ntionaliz<-d social order: art holds out againot
domination. in iTs respect for the sensuous ('la.mcular, hut reveals i1self
agnin •nd ngnin as an ideological ally of sucb oppression. The
'spiritualizatioo' of the anefact corrects !his actual oppressiveness,
but is itself secretly mOO.,lled on that ''"Y structure, assimilating itself
to Nature by exerting on unlimited sway over its materials. An thus
releues the specific, but represses it too: 'The ritual of dominating
nature lives on in play.'"' It is not a resolved totality; but it carries
within il an implllse to smooth over discontinuities, and all arti.stie
construction thus slr.lins ineluctllbly tow:ards Ideology.
Moreover, if an is subjec:r like everything else to the law of
objl:ctili<atiun, it c:aruJOt ~n·oid alcind of fctislaisu1. The tran..:cndcm:e
of the artefact lie• iu its power to dislocate things frnm their empirical
contexts and reoonflgurate. ll1em in the image of freedom; but tbis
also means that an works 'kill what tbc-y objectify, tearing it away from
its coot~ of immediacy and real tife'." An's autonomy is a form of
rcification, reproducing what it resists; dtrre can be no critique
351
without the objectification of spirit, bur critique rhus lap~ to the
status of thinpood and so threatens to undo itself. The modernist
culture Adorno espouses cannot help positing itself as independent of
any conditions of matt:rial production, and s.o insidiously perpetuates
false consciousness; bur the fetishistic chanmr of the work is also a
condition of its tnlth, since It is irs blindntss to the material world of
whi-ch it is a pon which enable. it to break the spell of the reality
principle. If an is always ndical, it is also ahnys COIIservative,
reinforcing the illusion of a separate domain of spirit 'whose pnaical
i01poteoce and complic:iry with the principle of unmitigated disaster
arc painfully t\·Mkol1 .u W"hal it gain:; in one din:ction, il loses in
another; ifit eludes the Iogie of a degraded hi"ory, tben it must pay a
be.avy pri-ce for tlois freedom, port of which is • reluctant reproduction
of tbat very logil-.
An for Adorno is rhus less some idealized realm of beiDg than
contradiction inc;omate. Ev•ry arref.1ct works resolute!)· against itself,
and this in a whole variety of ways. It strives for some pure autonomy,
but knows that willtouta heterogeneous moment it would be nothing,
vani>hiog into lhin air. It is at once heing-for-it>elf and being-for-
society, always simultaneously itself and something else, critically
estranged from its history yet incapable of taking up a vantage-point
be)·ond it. By forswearing inrenention io the re3l, 3rtistic re;ason
accrues tD itself a cenain precious innocence; but at the''"'"' time all
an resonates with social repression, and becomes culp2ble precl~ly
because it refuses to intervene. Culture is truth. and illusion, cognition
and false consciousness, at a stroke: like aU spirit, it suffen from the
narcissistic delusion of existing for iuclf, but does .., in a way which
ofTers to negate all false claim.< to such self-identity in the
commodified "'orld around it. Ddusion is on 's very mode of
exisrcoce, which is not to grant ita license to iUit.'Ot1llt delusion. If the
content of the an work is an illusion, ir is in some sense a necc.s~
one, and so does not lie; art is true to d;e degree that it is an illusion of
the non-illusory. In pasiting Itself as illusion, It exposes the realm of
commodiries (of whicla it is o.ne) as unreal, thus (orcing illu..~ion inro
the servic-e ur truth. An is an allegory of undcluded happiness - to
which it adds the fatal rider th•t this cannot be had, coruinually
brealing the prom ise of the well-being it :odumbr:atos.
In aU of these ways, an· contains truth and ideology at once. In
liberating particulars from the logic of identification, it presents us
352
with an alternative. to exchange-value, but thus cons us into the
gullible failh lhlt there are things in lhe world whlch are not for
exchange. As a form of play, it is progres.<ive and regressive at the
sam<: time, raising us for a blcsstd moment above rhc cow.;tnints of
pt3ctice but only to dt3w us lxlck into an infantile ignot3nce of lhc
inmumental. Anef:octs are divided :og:tinst th<!mselve.s, at once
detenninatc and indeterminate; and no~ilcrt is this more ob\lious
than in the discrepancy between their ntimctic (sensuous-expressive)
and mtiunal (constructh e·org:misational) mom~nts. One of th~ many
1

paradoxes of an is how the act of making can cause the appearance of

a thing unmade; the 'natural' materials which the art wod mimes,
and tbe 'rational' forms which rtgulate them, wiD always be divergent,
constiruling a slippage or dissonance at the very bean of the work.
Mediared through one another, these N;o dimensions of the an efacr
arc na·erthcless non ~identical. which aiJows art's mimetic Aspect to
provide an implicit criticism of lhc srrucrurlng forms with which it
ioterpenetr:nes" But this subrle mismatching, which is • question of
the .,·ork's objective logic, dcta<:hcs it frum the mastery of a sinJUlar
authoml intention, releases it into autonomy and so permits it to
beoome 111 image of possible fuwre reconcitiation.ln a strilling irony,
it is the an work's inner inttoncilabdity which puts it at odds with a
reined emJ>irical world and thus holds out the promise of a funtre
social bllJ1l)()lly. Every work of an pretend!; to be rhc tot:Uity it <:1>n
nc-\ocr become; there ls never, fM« Luk:icst .any achteved mediation of
(l'lnicular and univeiS:ll, mimetic and rational, but alwa)S a diremption
between them which the work wiU cover up as best it Clio. Ancfacts
for Adorno are ridden with inconsistencies, pitched battles between
sense and spirit, astir v.11h fragments which stubbornly resist
incorporation. Their materials will always put up a fight apiMt the
dominative rationality which ri~ them from th<!ir original context.<
W>d seeks to synthesize them at the c:qJCnse of their qualitatively
diiTe~nt moments. Compkte: iltistic dctcnnin:ation, in whicb every
ekmtnt of the work would become of equal value, collapses into
absolute contingency. The artwork is thus centripml and centrifugal
together, • ponrait ofits own impo<sibility, living testimnny to the fact
thar dissonance is the truth of harmony.
Such a case, however. is not to be mistaken for lhat simple-minded
b>mning of the incffitble particular into which a later, less politically
eng;~ged deconstmction has sootetimes degenerated. If Adorno is the

353
 apoJotdst for d im."f('J'JC'f. bi'ttrogcnelry and the apor( tk . he is also
impUuted en()ugh in :be po:iric;~l struggles of ))i~- tifue to bt abJt tcJ
s.ee UlOtt than U1 eroph)·~i cal <.lt.lu.-;iun in ~,Kh fUnthmr rual hum:m
-.·s.Jues as solidiirity, mutua) affinity. pcacc:ablcncss, fruitful commun·
ication, Joviug kindness - .,..,fues. wilhuut whit.:h not c:vm1 1h~ nu~
t-::-'fl"lilath·t: .....daJ nnler ""'~.l ll ld o; \ltn.':C'd in reproducing itsel!. bu1
which arc singularly absent fr~rn tbe disench31lttd, post-polnical
rii!>Cuun>t: of :1 l:n t r tnun: jejnne hr:md uf :mti · ft~!ati?ing 1hou~tn.
Adorno'; (h.C'o~·. in other words, holds rogttbtr in ntreme cension
positi6ns whic:h in conte:upou.ry cullural tt.eor)' b~&''t become ritu:.lly
ilfl!agouislic. Preseflt•L1a) tkt:un-;tma::t\,m i" on the ..dulic ci1hr,r sikm
or nc-pti\·t :about the !lotiOII of soi.W:1rity - :1: v2Jue '-'•itbout which no
significa nt aoe:i<d change i!t t\'etl ctmcei.,.abl c~ but whid1 J t:t.llll!'M\ lt:-
tiun ltnch Ul cunfl:m: in Nic:l'/!'lt:hc:an fl.'>hiun v.i1h a fr:l\'('fl .;:.:.mfcwmil)'
10 the law. On tbc other h;md, the work ->f 01 j urgen Hat>ermo\! might
bt upbrailk<1 fl-,r 1l1e UPI"*siiC ~nur, 1'1:u:m~; 1uu -;:mgtJiue :1 1rus:t :n :1
oc)rml'ltivt concctivc wisdom. No on<" c:ould ot11do 1ht ami·t()taHzlng
animus of a thin~r who ruouodingl)' ded ares th~i tbc whole js the
r..Jsc; but Alf•)nlu is hiU dt:t.ld)' Jialt:t::lit::ul al }u:mi~ lu i nu:1~ n e lh ! all
unity or identity is thlls un cqt~ i;:oca!Jy terroristic. The giwn social
Ol'd et i~ uor Otli) ~ mallt:l of upf•ressi~c sd i~i<.ltutit i~; il is alsu a
s1 rm:ltlrc; ur ;anlagt.l ni:;m, to whit:h lt •·cn:1in nntion uf idc·nriri m:l)' lx·
-::iticaf.ty opposed. It i$ ~cause so much pos t-.!tru<.1ur.~~is t thvughl
:uistakt>i :a t:l.mRM.:li\'t: M...:i:.tJ s;·skm fur a mu11ulnhi.: m 1~ lh:tl il ..::m
conceive oroonsenst•s or coUectr.·ityonly il ~ oppressive. Adomo!s ow;l
case i1 more nuanced: 'while firmly rejecting- the ;;:ppca:ancc of
reconcitio:motl~ an nout tbt less hold~ fo:tSt to tht. idea of recoociliatitm
in an ant~J~oo i stic «'<lrld . .. without 11 J)<:ripc·cr:hlt on peace an would
be Ul\lfUC-, just as untrue: as it i.s whco il 4lnti<i)Xltes ;a sl1te of
re l:!MH:ilialiun'.l-l lf it i~ tr ue il-tul •the ur~c ul tht' arlj:.1it.: panjr-ulur lu
be submc~cd !:n rh ~ wh())c rct1c~'t5 the disintegrative dc:nh "'; sb of
n:ature'/: it i$ also the case that a work of llTt whidt dissolv¢<1 into
pure :uaJUfoldJ)t-Sit would lo~>e ':.ilfL)' seose of wh;tt m;~kt) the pan:icul;ll'
re~tllr d i!>lincti,•c:. Wmi;:; Ihat om: iu l.'tlustvul Jlu:. and hun: nu llnitar,-.
pO!!lt of reiCrt!ncc for tbt- m! ny 'o('('()mC lOO homo~c~6US , {00
1n onotonou~. too uodifTereoti:&tcd.""' Pure diifercnce. in short. is as
bl;u)k aad teLJ.i ota~ as pure identit} . .'\ 1) il.H which f3ils ro 1ender its
~ Jem ents :!n('rWtinmf in rheir irrt('n ndl3biliry wm.1ld riP.(u,e its .;:rirical
foi'C(': tba c: c.-n be no mlk of dif((l'('no::c (lr ,i issonfnre wilh QI.If som<"
JS1
 ART Af'nR AIJSCl!WITZ

provisional confiiJUrating of the particulars in question, which w~>Uid

otherwise be not dissonant or conAictive but morely inconuuensur·
able. 'What we differentiate', Adorno writes inNtgarrotDiillmin, 'wW
appear divergent, dissonant, negative for just as long as the structure
of our consciousmss obliges it to strive for uniry: as long as its
demand for totlllity ,.,;u be its measure for wflatever is not identical
witb it."' Anefacts are internally un,..,conciled through a cenain
reconciliation, which is whorl ... ves dtem irreoonciloble with cmpiriral
n:aUty: 'the dctmnincd opposition of c,·cry • n work to empirical
reality presu~es in; i.nner cohe:rence'.:ut Unles.~ the work has .some
kind of fragile, provisional identity, one cannot speak of iiS resisting
political power. Those who indiscritninately demonize such concepts
a.c; unily, identiry, con.~n sus, regulation have forgnntn that there are,
afler aU, diO'erent modalities of these things, wflich are DOC all
equivalently repressive. In t\domo's view, the 'rationaf form of
art aUCJ\Io-s for a 'non· rcpr.ssive 5)1lthesis of diverse pankulars . .. it
presen·es them in their diffuse, diverg<nt and contradictory condi·
don'." Non-identity is constitutive of the work of art, but this non-
identity 'i.-. opaque nnly i« identity'~ claims tn he total?" and pure
siniJUiarity is sheer abstraction. The general features of the anwort
emerge from its mlnure spedfie2rions; but this should not be taken to
authorize some brusque e.orcism of the concept, which would only
suaender us to the spell of the brute obje(t. Tl1e principle of
individuation, Adorno reminds us, has its limits just like any other,
and nehher it nor iLs oppocsite should be ontol<>gi7.ed. ' Dadaism, the
deictic gesture pointing to pun: thisness, was no less lmiversaltban
the demonstnm·e pronoun "this".'"

1\domu takes from Kant the insight that although the work of an is
indeed a kind of tOiality, it is not one wbich can be thoug!lt along
customnry cunecpn•al lines. The Kanri:m aesthetic posits some
peculiar imbrication ofpan and y,·bole, an intimacy which can then be
read in two directly contnry w.IJS. Eithtr the wbole is no more than
the obedient product of the p1rticub~, ceaselessly genenred up out
of them; or its power is now more pen..sive and weU-fowtded than
ever, inscribed within each individual dcmeut as its informing
struCitlre. From this >iewpoinl, the very attempt to give the slip to a
'bad' totality keels CJYer into its opposite. Kant opens a path towards
thlnkin! totality otherwise, but n:maim caught within a more

355
traditiunallogic; Adorno presses Kant's privileging of the particular
to an extreme limit, insi!ning on its rculcitrancc to whatever force
oiTe<S to integrate it. The oooce(Jt of comaellaJ.ion can thus be read as
a political rallying cry: 'AD powi.T to dlc particulars!' Yet Adorno's
aesthetics incorporates this radical programme of democratic self·
go\·~mment with ~ 1110re classical dominative modtl at rimts viewing
1

the 'rationality' of the an-work u non-rcprcssn·e. at other rimes

underlining its coOIISion "ith bureaucracy. What might undo the
tiOtn]itarian• implications of K:mtr.ln aesthetics. is tln: ide:. of affinity
or mimesis - lhc non-sensuous <'Orr<SpOndcnL~ b<IWccn disparntc
features ofthe anefact, or more generally lhe filiations of both kinship
a.nd otherness bc""·c::c-n subject and obiect, humanity and nature 1

whicb might prO\ide an llltemative rntionality to the instrumental.

One might even name this mimesis a/lf11.01Y, that tiguroti,·e mode
which relates through difference, presen;ng the relative outnoomy
of 3 set of signifying units whllc suggesting an affinity with some other
range of sigoiliers. And while this model is not broached by Adomo
as cxplicidy political, it surely carries signi6c'ltnt potitic-.1 implic;,..
tions. It would mean, for example, thai die relations between class-
struggle and sexual politics coold no< be conceived along the lines of
some Luk>icsion 'eq•ressive tot•lity', but u~onet:icall)· or allegorically,
in a set of corrcspondenc:es w.bich, like the wnstcllarion, take lhc fuU
mea.<ure of Olbemcss and d l~parity. If such a lhcory !ift< no comfon
to the symbolic tooali>.ers. it will equally be resisted by those for whom
affinity or corr<"SpOndcncc can only b< imagined as tyrannical
'closure.·.
'A hb<nted monl<illd', Adorno writes, ' would by no m<ans be a
totality. •Jl Unlike many of his statements, this is an impn'<'ably
Marxist proposition. ~·or Lukacs, totality already exists in principle,
but has )"'t to come into its own. Literary reaUsm pre6h'tores lbot
fonunatc day, rcrn:ating each phenomenon in the image of the
essence it belies. For Adorno, things are quite the reverse: there is
indeed, here and now, a total system which integrates evt.rything
rclendessly down, but to emancipate non-identity from its voracious
maw v.·ould be to transform this miserable slruation into some fuiUI'C
historiotl 'constellation', in which rational identity wnuld be con-
stituted by lhat hiarus within each particular which opeiiS it to the
unma.stcrablc Olbemcss ofits fellows. Such a potilical order would be
llS far from some 'totalitarian' regime as it would be from some

356
random distn"burion of monads or flux of shcLT diiTcrcm:.:; and in this
sense t.here is !he ba.<is for a politics in the work of Adorno, "-' there is
only dubiously in rhnt of some oi his theoretit'21 successors. Adorno
does noc abandon the concept of tot.11ity but submits it to a
materiall'llic mutation; and rbis is equi\':ll<nt to transforming the
lrllditional concept of the aesthetic, turning it against itself by
redeeming as far u possible ia proto-materialist aspects from its
tntali7jng ideali•m. Thi• operation is then in its tum a kind of
allegory of how the promise of bourgeois Enlightenment - the
equitable interrelation of free, autonomous individuals - may be
sal,aged from the dominative reason which is its contradictory
accomplice.
In the light of this project, Jiirgen Hakrma.•'• cursory judgement
lhat negative di.tectics leads to nothing is surely too hnrsb." Indeed
Habermu himself elsewbcr<: applauds 1\domo and t\dorno's col·
league Max Horkbeimer for the judiciousness .,.;th which their
critique of reason refuses to darlen into an outright renundation of
what lhe Enlightenmen~ however 'ainly, intended by the concept of
rea.o;on." There are some who would argue tha~ given what Adorno
and Horkheimer had seen lhat rationality amount to in Nazi
Germany, this refusal of renunciation was either foolish or all the
more impressive.. There are Ofhers ".flo wnu]d arp!e that, given what
~•cy had S«n th•'ll: of the Jclhal coos<:qucm;cs of abandonin~ r<a>on,
their refusal to do so wa$ entirely understandable. Habermas
recognizes that Adorno has no desire to press beyond the uncomfort·
able impasse of a reason turned back upon its<U'; he wishes simply to
endure in the perfol11131ive contradiction of a negative dialectics, thus
remaining faithful to the echoes of an .tmost forgotten non·
instturnenul reason which belongs ro pre-history. Like his great
e•emplar Samu.t Deck.,lt, Adorno chooses to be pll<)! but honest; he
would prefer to suffer the consttainrs of die tight theoretical place in
which he is srud rather than bem1· • more fundamental human
suffering by foreclosing upon the,;., painful manoeu\Te:;. What
tattered shreds of authenticity can be prcSdVed after Auschwit:<
consist In suying stubbornly impaled on die horns of an impossible
dilemma, conscious that rbe aba.ndonment of utnpia is just a.<
treacherous as th.e hope fo.r it, that negations of the actual arc: as
i.odispensable as they arc incffcetual, that an is at once precious and
worthless. Adorno makes a ~irtue out of agonized vulner-•bo1ity, as

357
though that is all honesry cJn thes<! doys mean. As in the work of Paul
de Mnn. authentidty, if it exists at all, lies only in the gest\lle by which
one det2<:bes oneself ironically from all inevitably inauthentic
engagements, opening a spoce between the degraded empirical
subject and what "uuld at ooe time ha••e been the transcendeow
subject, had the laner nor now b""n wholly undenuined by tbe
(()nuer." For de Man, an endl""s sdf-rcflc'Xivc irony is now the.
nearest appro..cb we can make to that classical tramcendcoce, in an
age when vutigo must serve as the indeJC of ver:ocity. ln the shift from
early to late capilalism, the h'bcnl humanist subject has in<lccd faUcn
upon hard times, and must now be prep3red to sacrllice its truth and
identity to its freedom, a dissever•nce which the Enlightenment
would have found unintelligible:.
Adorno and de A1an sh:ue, in f2.ct, an imponant fe:.rure: rheir
uvcrrcaction to fa:;cism. To spak of overrca~1ing to such a politics
might seem strange, but is surely possible. Adorno was a victim of
C1scism; de Mnn, it would appear, was f()r a while • sympathizer.
Those who argue for some continuity between de Man's earlier and
later inc:unati()OS are surely right to do so; but the continuity in
question is largely negalhoe. a matter of tht later de M;m's extreme
reaction to his earticr invoh·ements. The later de Man, traumatized
by the philosophy of rranscendcnw signification, metaphysical
groundedness and remorseless tot21ir•tion with which he had earlier
consoned, lapses into a jaded 6bcral scepticism in some WI)'S close to
Adorno's own political pessimitJn, though without irs frail utopian
impulse. Bolh figures would seem affiicted for quite different reasons
by a paralysing historical guilt, and would prefer to court impotence,
deadlock aud failllre rJtlter than risk the dogmatism of affirmation.
Both positions, moreover, have to 500lC extent always aln:ady
inco.,orated their 0'1\11 hopelessness, a mO\·e which among other
things renders tloem less vubler.lble I() ce.rL,iJl irnp•tient accusotions.
In Mi• ima Mor.Uia, that bizarre blend of probing insight and
patrician gTOU$Ing, Adorno mourns the disappt3flrlcc fr()m mGdem
cMlization of doors that close 'quietly and discreetly', in one of his
tiresome bouiS of h•tu lxmrr<tJu onti-technologictl nosta~Jio : 'What
does it mean for the subject that there are no more casement windows
to open, but only sliding fnmes to shoYe, no gentle latches but
turnable handles, no forecuun , no doorstep before the strtet, no wall
around the prden?'" One knows, even before the eye has travelled to

358
the ncltl sem4:nre, that a referenc.-e to the N~zis will be on its w;;~·.
whidl indeed immediately appears: 'The mtwerr.ents machines
dem:1nd of ttle1r lto;er'S :tln:ru:ty h:tve rhe v1oltmr, hJr•i-h-in1ng.
unrt$tinr jertineu of FasciSt nuhreatmen1.' Tha! the man wOO could
o:
so vigil.:aud)' sniff ou1 insrances tb( b:mal.i.ution of f>l&<tsnt, from
I:Sr«.ht to Choplin, shollld ~mit bimselftbis trivill li~ing constell.1£ion
$Ugge5t$ th:n we should evalUAte witb sc-me circumspe<:tion rhe
political rt:OJ~t)nses of a ffl'l'utt:t victiw ~)r fascism. ln. one se n~e, nobody
could comnwuJ mor..:- 3utharity 'lnd r..:-ropcct; Jn anotkcr sense, rhe
honoa C>l"that f'-:\j)etietu:e lingets tllQughout Adotuo:s huet wotl; as .t
distnnmg :l!i w;;U:l!i illuminnr:ing p er!;pec ti~. Some:thing of rh': same
might be $aid of Paul de Man, despi•e the entirely difftrent nature o!"
his uuplicat.ioo iJl the \ 1azi period. H1s later tltougbt must bt
c~am.ined in tbt> light of his Hrlk-r can't't in mucb the S-lime v.ay tha:
the dccl:at'2tions of il posi[j\Jis.t or bellOlvio'Jrist must be cot~idered in
t.he c:uru exl uf h i:. reu tbt.m lmm an <:arlic..-r t:'l1lf11{Ciielli:..m.
It is by now wklclr agreed that Adomo's c:q:J(ricncc of fascism led
him am) tJthtr lllt.'tltu..:rs vf IJU!' frankfuJl l>cl10vl lll tra~Clil) 3DcJ
misr?'l:ogmze some c>f tbl.' spcciric pou.•et·St!\ICHlres ot liber-al
capitalism.. proitC1ing the mhatory sh:adow o( the former sort o:'
regime upoo the qune differeJH luSlitutious ,,( lht: l<~ue r. t\·luch the
same ron fusion is inherite-d by some pos1-structuralis1 theory. '"-ith its
perilously indis, l'iminate confbtiou of "''idely di\·e1~t'ul mJc:n uf
f)(t\l't:r, fi wu•s <•f l tflph:~Mm and mo>~,bdirit~$ of law. Th(~ brcathrnki.ng
subdct)· of .'\doroo1s disquisitions ()O art are in inver$( pJVFOrtion to
the rwo-dimcnsiooal crud1ty of oo nu~ of his politit.' al IJt:t't.'ellliun~ .
ln.deed these rwo t'Acecs ct his thought Er~ dosdy intertwined, a.'i :1.
defc:.atist politics genc r<~tcs a comp(nsaroril)' rich aesthetics. £n~ll
then. 1--:owcver. it lllLL">l be tt'ltlt:lllht:rt:t.l that Ad•lrnu•s his1c1ric:a'
pessimism is aJways tempered by 3 vision, hOWC\'Cr :agg~d ami
thrcadb:are. of the just society. 'The ooly piUJu:o,uJ•hy wl1idt t::m h~:
l'tS!•uu~ibb· p111L1iscd in fal.:t:: of clcsp.1ir'. rt.•ads the conclnding.
Bcnj:uni:nian $CCbo:'l of Mi~ri~M~ .lfC;nz/w, 'is the :lttcmpt to "COntcml)bte
aU things a$ they would present tbe..n:.el\·es frum th~ s1aruJpuint ur
rctkmprion. Knowledge has no light but !.hat shed on '!he owo:id 1>)'
r.::rlc:mrrion; 11U else is re-connruc-tion, roue ~chnique. Pcrspe:ctiYtSc
must be fashjoned that di.,placc and estrange: the ~XItid, t'\.."Yt:al it 111
bt~ wilh it~> rifts :mtl cre\•icl!S. as indig':'nt And d istorrtd -:t; it wiE
appt:ar une d a~· in the mr.$Sillnic litht.!J' Th(:( {'.tn be no doubl that

:ls~
 Adoroo be!i('V($ devoud)· in rhe good socie:1y. Joii•Ct- h!IW mhr:rwl!te
t:c)uki h e ~..q:~ericlt('t: lht: mi!'lcry u ( 11s ah..e mx r1uilf' su lieenly? H is
clcsp.:~ ir. thC'n. is al\l'a)'5 an intri<':ntly qualiiiC'd affair. iust as his
n1'»torious cultur.il elitism is JSe,·crdy rc;mptrd ~ the readine-ss be
shQws m s.avagP.a rqlrt~ nmriv~ <.lf high cull:me illongside an :n:arar of
the culture industry.
T ht rt: ilrt, Pt:rllaJ)S., lwo lliiTen:ut Adornus, the m1~ ""me...,hw
mere dcfcsrist than the other. It is possibk to r.: ad his work :JS a
l'eueat f(Oill the t)lghtuu re oi' bistOI)' into du: a\.'2>dh!tic, :.tn<.l dr;r~ is
l!ntlllgh in his wrilinb'l' 10 m.d: .. t hi~ a pl:msihle vif'w h is rh~ moor
casil)' C'ariC'arured skie of his thought: Btcken a:ad Sch(')(nbc:rg- as the
sol11t10ll to '-"·orld scarv-J tjoo and thrc;~tened oude-.:tr desftllCiiou. TJ..is
is the '\domo who cletiberare!}· offers ra .~ r1 solutioo whu is d eMIVpart
of the problem. the political hom~op;~th who will fec:d us sickness as
cun:. Titis AtJorm1 asks u~ sintJ)Iy !u sub.si..., il} dtc:: ut:ar ...in!Oit:nlble
strain of·an absurdist. sclt:.impiOOing thouttht. a thought befort which
all hub1istic S)'Ht:nl •buildt:t~ musl lnanble tht:lll&t'l~~>.• aud whidJ in
''" E.' lllreme• .t ~a:omfnn keep~ us loy:Jl :n !'QmE.' lofty remr.w.~ to •l:le
chaucterbtic stufr of human history. But there i.s also tbt 01her
Adorno who still hopes that we tuight go through the acs.thetic and
come om in ~me unnameable place on lhc ot~r i idc, the thc<)ris.
for wOOm the aesthetic offers a paradigm, r-.llber dun a dispbcemem
nf t':manciparury fH.,itiaJ thnugfu ..l~
In Nt;ctn.v D!alta:·a. Adorno -S:pcab oa.u explicit~·2g.::inst any
.ltttmpt to aestht ticiz.e philosop hy.':\ philosophy that tried tn imit.atc
::!n , th:n woulrl ~u rn i ~elf inJQ :1 work o ( :m, wuukl 1-tr. r.rpunging
irself. •Jt A Schelllngian solution, 1rt ()thcr words. is not to bt pt•rsucd:
bul s.:nnewlli*t later ill lhe volume Adorno is writi.'lg in Schopcuhaueri.ln
\'c-in of phJJos.opb}' as 'a tr\Jt" sister of musk .. its s..•spe-nded shne is
!\&thing but the e:xpression of its inexprcssibiUry•.-t• As the playful and
:iell:.'\luus, lhc ac::lthc:tiL: is nUl, Adornu in~ w.:rilltulid lO phi.Ju~h)·;
the-re is a kind of clownish element nbom l:rlo....·ing tht>ugflr's
remoteness &om its object yct spetl:ing as 1hougb one: had t:'"lal ob~ct
:a~u•n.lly Ut ll;uu.l! OU1d thoo1y mus1 s-ocnchow iilCl out this U'<tSi<omk
di~rcpanc~', JlJrt=KruumJin:g ib t )WII unJini:.ltt:dm::.s. •~:;; 01 funn vf
tho"ght wboie object mus1 alwars e-lud~ it, tl\ert' is something A little
buO·oonjsh 2bour this monarch (;{ the humanities. Du1 if :\domo
w;&UlS 10 ..estheticize theofy in style lnd form. he i..s not pr~ pa.red to
\'Oid (ht cogniri_ \ ·e, fOr 'cogency 11nd pby are tlw. r""o p<•lr.s u (

360
 ART AITER .~VSCtrn1TZ

philosophy', and ' lphilosaphy'sl alliniry to an does not entitk it to

borrow from an, least of oil by vinue of lh< intuitions which
barl>arians tske for the pRrogatives of art'." The theoretical toocept,
bowe.'Cr, must noc relinquish the sensuous )'taming whlcb animates
the ani~~. even if it tends to negate that yearning. 'Philosophy can
aoither circumvent such negation nor submit to iL It must sttivc, by
way of the concept, to tr.anscend the contept."'
There CRn be no question for Adorno of aestlteticit.ing ph~osophy
in the sense of reducing cognition to intuition, since an for bim is
itself in its peculiar way a fonn of nttionolity. Where theory is to be
aestbelicizcd is in its approach to the particular; art docs not exacdy
oust systematic though~ but fumisbes II with • model of sensi.IOCis
receptivity to the specific. This, however, poses an intriguing
problem. For bow can philosophy ieJOm from the aesthetic if the
whole JlOml of the latter L< to be strictly unnnslatahle into di.<eursive
lltought? The aesthetic would >''Cm to offer itsc:lf as a pandil!fll for
a thought into wbich it refuses to be translated back. i\rt shows wbat
philosophy cannot say; but either philosophy will never be able tv
amculaie this, in wbith taSt the aesthetic is of dobioos relcnncc to it,
or it C40 learn to express the inupressible, in which case it may no
longer be theory but a form of art. An would thus seem at once the.
consuiiii!Ution and the ruin of philosophy - the point to which any
authentic thought must asymptotically aspire, yet where it would
cease to be in any traditiOIJlli •ensc dtought at all. On llte otho:r hand,
the <hift from the theoretical to the aesthetic, from a dominative
reason ro a mime1ic one, cannot in\·olve a definitille rupture, since ;~s
we have seen an itseU' contains an indoctoblc moment of domination.
An's deconstruction of theory i! nn·er entirely succ~sful, so that
philosophy will live on within its other.
Ju.st as artistic modernism figures the impossibility of an, so
Adorno's modcmi<t aesthetic Dlllrks the point at which the high
aesthetic tradition is pressed to an e:meme litnit and begins to self-
destruCt, leaving among its ruins a few Cl)ptiC clue.; as to what might
lie be}'tmd iL Yet this undermining of classical aesthetics is achieved
from wilhm the a\:stheti<;, and ""'"" mudt to the lineages it lhro"'s
into crisilr. Adorn<> continues to occupy the high ground of aesthetic
theory, r.nher than dese•nding like Habermas to the more hospitable
lowlands of a communit'2th'c rationality. He would rallter stiOe lltan
suffoca~. and in wb<>le rexhes of his work the air feels too rarefied to

361
 SIJ.'!Wn much biolos;i"l t;J01"1h.l lc begins neither from rl1c ~ood old
t.hin~s nor Lhc bad 11ew lhing:.>tu adopt a n:fnarlt. uf Brcdll's, h ut fn1m
the bad old thini'l, froro a history whicll h ~s beer. ra.c~d :tnd
tt
Lotmt:lltt:J S,ifLce its iucqHicm. ACC(Jrdill8 to Dialet.'lif Enl~h frnment
t::\or;n ( )dys.'it~ns wa" 1 bt•• rg•~oi s inJ ividualist, and Adam .,.,)13 nt) doubr
another. T he only authentic 1t6pe is ooe wresrtd frol'h rite knowledge
th:rt •hi'1&" h:tve be:tn l ln:K:iUtt'> ftw :1 very h.tt~g 11 m~ = :t h1.1pe whil..'h
risks suppmsiog thn knowledge and so becoming in.amhentk. Only
b)· remaining farthful tc the: pasr c.Jn we priet loose its tcmJ)•in; grip.
aml thi.s lit.!r.lity i:. lfnl:\'l!r likt:ly I<I Jlaraly.st: u:-.. h i::; a pruhlcm uf hu"''
one all~tcs and keeps faith with sutTcrin@' a1 lhc sam~ timt, since
the out: i'i a)"·:Jy.o; thtt':ilt:"uiug lo uutleJ'I:Ul ll•e otJteJ'. J( .1\dunw pl.ic:s
the steel h«." dots so ~s a wouod~d surgc;on, patir.nt :md physician
tQ~c:thc:r;1nd his injurie$. as Wittgtnstc:in might b.ave !&id, M e th(
brt1ises he .has sosuinei. from tf)'ing 10 run hi~ he::d up ag3inst 1he
timils of langua.gt'. The only cu r~ for our s.itknes) is tb.t h should
j;1'UW wnrSe - thut the •~""ounds iufli;;:ted 011 hum3tlity b)' its own
insani.ty should 114." ldi fcSic:ring anti unh~nt.lc:d, li•r withuul thc:ir !>ileal
tcsti.monr to our b.istoricd plight we wiU forget that a remedy is c\·cn
net..'e's-;:11)' :and tlms: t:S<~pt: inlu iuncx:.:m::r. T he r.tsg~J @ .af' \.\·bic::h a
predatory reason has driv<n throngh onr inne r u:.torc moSJ. he kt.' pl
open. fot it is only in this vacant space that :somcthillg m 9r~ creative
mitht ftisl gcnnin.ne, and wtuu ~ might srotf 1r with wt.lufd Qnl_y be
illusion. Things at the W<~rst, as Macbfr), reminds us.. will dthtr «asc
or dimb ur• :tt-'lin; :uuJ Atluruu J:M.Sit.ions his '!A.t'itlog 'CII t!Us
uodec:idabl(' poim, p.rcparc-d to ~cl;: n~it:icr r n'>sihiliry. Liiu: Fn.-ud.
he knows that indi..idua.l particulars will ne:,.er rcS1 contcllt under the
l<lw's yOO:e> thnr thl:' cerur:~ l lt nef uf IT:nliriunal :u$ fht:ticoo is a lie:; :tnd
this frlcrion ~N·etn pan aod whole is du; 30HTCC of both help<.' and
t1('s,,ait. the t'endins wid1o'JI wh.ich ootbing can be sole: or whole: but
whh:h m~y "'·ell su~ in cleferring o;uc:h wf11 1lene~ !u jud:gt"mcJll
d:a)'. ·n.e aeSthetic. which W3S ooc-c :. l:ind of n:~ohttil.m , is r.uw F.
SC;Uldalous impossibility; and Adomo:s most ironic- MO\'(' \\'ill be to
Jepk1)· thilo u:ry iuJJ)OSS!biJjty as ;a de:vice for renewing- the tradition of
which it is d:!t last faint g11sp. As lh.c:..1gh1 muM tr:n·r.l beytmd if!'t:lf so
•.nusttbt aesthcti' 1ramcend it$eli'. C"mpryltlg itself of iu <'uthOTitarian
urgts aud u(feosi¥d y affumad\'e mltincts until it k:a\·cs bchiDd
nothing bt1t a gh.osdy Dl?gntiv~ imprint ( I( ilself>whit:h is: JHOb:Lhly the:
ocarcst we shaU gtt ro rrrttb.
J(ol
 AltT AM'ER A\ISCIIWITZ

Every generation, Benjamin writes, has been cndo""'d with a'"'"'"

Messianic power'." The revolutionary historian scans the post for
this frail salvilic impulse, fannin~ the 'l''"ks of bupe still stirring
among iu ashes. Adorno is K2bbalisric enough to decipher rhe signs
of redemption in the most..-ildly improbable places - in lhe paranoia
of idcnliry-thinking, in the mechanisms of cxcltanJc-value, betWeen
rhe elliptical lines of • Bec~ett or in some sudden jarring of a
S.:bocnb<:rg 'iolin. Hisrory is ""'"'" with the desire for justice and
well-being, clamouring for judgement day, labouring to cn·cnhrow
itself; it is shot through with w~ak Messianic powers, if 011ly one
learns to search for them in the kast obvious places. But th<tt is, of
COW!JC, alwa}'S anomer story. If Adorno can detect the longinr for
happiness in so.me bur~aucratic edict, be is also depussingly sl<ilful at
discerning the r:~paciousncss which lurks within our most edifying
gesrures. "fh<re can be no ttuth "'ithout ideoiOf!Y, no transcendence
witboot betrayal, no beneficence wh.ich is not bought at the c® of
another's happiness. If tbc stein of history is meshed as fine as this,
then to rug on •ny one thread of It Is to risk unravelling some rore
design in the naJDe of unpi<:king an obstn..:tive knot Textuality, with
Adorno as wilh some later theorists, thus becomes a rationole for
pol itic:~! intertOI; pram is a crude, blundering alTair, which cook!
ut-vcr li'" up tu the exquisite many-sidednt>-s of our theoretical
insights. It is remarkable how this .'\moldian dcx:trine is still alive and
weD today, occasionally in the most 'radictt.l' of circles.
It is no use, however, telling Adorno that Webem will ne,·er do
anything for the world economy. lie knows it already, better even
than •IS. •nd is more concemed to rub the ridiculousness of his
doclriocs in our face than to defend them. In Zcn-lile fashion, it is
onl)· when we have grosped their absurdity that iUumin:uion might
break upon us. If some later theorists have been able to pnctise this
prOI'ocativc scylc even .more ctTcctivcly than Adorno himself, it Is
largely bee2use they lack hl' pmround sen.<e of politic:~l responsibility.
Adorno recognized the necessity of that style; but be never fa~ed to
n11:dit1tc on its intolerable privilege too, which is what marks him olf
rrom • post-Au$Ch";"' generation. tr he ironi>.ed •nd equivocated, it
was not with some fetkle~s rub-Niet<oeb•an zest but with • beny
bean. It is ironic in iu rum th2t this nostalgic luzuJ bottrgtOis
intefiectual, v.ith all his mandmn fastidiousness and remorseless
tunnel vision, should join the ranks of Mikhail Bakhtin and Walter
363
 Beuj:main :i!o 1m e f)f the 1hre~ m1•."r lT~.)rM; O¥igina) cnlnmll theorists
.\b.o:ism futs yet produced.

1 Thc~:ft)f Adorno. N~X<~'itv D ia1('(1;.'1 (London. 1973), !). 33.

2 lhirl., p 146. .
3 Ibid., p. :165 .
.; lllid., J"! :i:!Cl.
; 'lllCOtlm ,\dumcl, :Hinim!f Mcnr!ia •J..(·,ndan, I!)':-!), p. ~17 .
i) Adrtfnn, lv,.{,dli-::' J)i.-;,'.-ni.'t, r· l <tl(
; lbiU .. p. 14'1.
J! .1\d!'lm.-:., NftJfli-u I)Uim.ia, p. 5.
v lbMJ., p. 1211.
J(l !hid., p. 2:i .
II lhtd., p. Rl.
12 Ibid., p. II J.
I J I !'lid., PI"· 3] :tnd I h:.!.
H Ibid.. p. 47.
IS Ibid., p. 8:t
16 .S~t on 1..hi.s ;.•oiw P.:u:r Dt~l), i.t!f)'Q 'if Oisir:trg;4:Wn CLonJtm, 1937),
p. ~0.
17 '11tcWUr Advntu! ...f.,i!s.:'lt.' Tkrory <LunJ<Jit. 191)4), !J. J2S.
18 Tbcc>J~1r At!um fl, ·c.ummitmenl', in t:rm1 Hkx:fl ~~ ::1., Ar;~iurio ilru
ft.•frtia (Lomhm, 1977)1 p. 19"1.
19 Ad!111lO, A !!:i'.' i-riit' '1 '!uvry, !>· 2?.
21) llm.l., p. 74.
21 Ibid., p. 19J.
22 Ibid., p. 333.
23 ."\ n ~:.~~eel/en( a<"(Uunl ol tbi$ tvl)ic is G)•a1 b) Pcccr Ost>ornt. 'AdOI'II!)
;ul\.l l.h.: Mt~.:tpll~t.:i;.;li tJf M'11knustu' iu A. B~ ui:onuW (~J .). Tl:r ?'t'l.•fDN (tj"
M~.!tm i.')·: A:!ms'J # rtJ DtujMmJ'd (l.<lfld-on, 198S).
24 Adorno, .-kul~it T/Jtrt'], p.p. .f.8 and 366.
l5 lowt, p. 1x
2h Ibid., f\- 2';3.
27 Ad•!mo. ,\ 'qatiVt: Dialc.-rio, pp. 5-6.
ZK Adnmo, A,.;limit T'JU!J')'. p. 2ZS.
ZlJ lbi.t.• p. 20i .
30 AJ.klrnv. .Vego.:•'Jtlt D:u!uttQ , l'· 1 ~ 3.
31 Adorno.Atst4ttr: TMlll) , p.l59.
 ART AFTU AIJSCIIWTTZ

32 Thcodor Adorno, lntroducrioa !0 Tl:r PosiJit>ist Dispnle i• c.,..,.

so..;.(Dff (LondDn, 1976), p. 12.
33 Soc Peter l'lt-..·s (ed.), Jii'P Hairrmw: Aa"""""J ..J S~
(Loodon, 1986), p. 91.
J• Ibid., pp. 15-1- 5.
35 See Paul de Man, 'The Rhetoric ofTetnporality', in81i""""' ...J lnups
(MiruleapoU., 1983), p. 2H.
36 Adorno, MiJ!i""' Mo...UW, p. 40.
37 Ibid., p. 247.
38 Fer a crllieal a<count of Adorno's US< of 1M aesthed< as polidc:al
paradigm, S« AJ>rccht WeBmc:r, 'ReaSOII, Utopia and die !Nkaie of
E•liglrllfi1Mtt', in R. J. Bernstein (•d .~ Hu-.s ..J Modnnity (Cam-
bri~ge, 1985).
39 Adorno, Nrgativ< DiokdiCJ, p. 15.
40 Ibid., p. 109.
41 Ibid., I>· 15.
•z Ibid., p. 15.
43 Waller Beatjamin, 'Thua oat lite Philosophy of History', in H. Arendt
(<d.), /llulfli~ (London, 1973), p. 25t>.

365
 14

From the Polis

to Postmodernism
Let us teU, in <Tude ~nd f.abular form. ~. Wtbtrian kind of story.
lmilgi.ne l society sometime in the indet..::rmiu:ate pas1, before the rise
of capit~ lism1 perb11ps ewm bd ore the t•:t~il, •:-.enstiDI~· betore me
dissociation of scnsibili~·. t.\·hcn the dtree grc:ac questionJ of
pW Ju~ph} - whut cao we know? what ou.gtu wt to do? ..-.·bat do we
find attrac tiv•~? - wen: nlll as yr:t filii~· d isri n~uioihahh: frum one
anocher. .'\ societ)'> that is to iay. ,,. hcrt the three mighty regions of
Ihr. t:•>gnili\•e, the t!lhil"(t--(lr!hlictl :mel the lihi.Jin:al-:te!-1hetic wtre still
to a largt c-xrcnt inccnne; hcd. Kno\l,·(edtc was sriU consuained by
.::cnam moral imperatives - d•crc were certain thmg$ you weren't
s:tlppose<l to kno,.· - gnd w:~s nof \'iewl'd :~s sheert}· iBStnlmf.'tlml. 'l'be
cthico·political question - what are •,•oc to do.) - was not regarded
s.imp·ly as a uaalttr of mtuilion or existential dec.istoo or inMplic:Jble
prc tCrc: m.~ l:m1 im;uln"tt rigcwuus knuwle:dgc: <of..., hw ...,e: wen~, nf the
suuctute oi our s<rcial life: so that ther-e was a way of ducribing what
wt:- wc:rt' frmu whid1 it '>lt~s possible tu U:d'er what we iihoufd do ur
oonJd become. :\ n was l"'((i sharply sq13rarcd fT(Mll rhc c;rhi c~r
politlCJl_, but was ont of its primary medi.a; and it was oot easily
di ::;ringu ish:~bh~ from r h~ l,.'(.lf>'Tlith-c e ll h ~r, bet.'llns.~ it c:oukl br. seen 1'"
"' fonn of S(ICial 1:-.nowlcCgr... <'OfH:Iu('fed v.irhin ccnain nl)fmarivc:
ethical irame~'Orb. It had (Ognitivc functions and ttMoo·pj)litica.l
d Tects..
Then imagin e: a frer :1 whilr., :1!1 rhi:-. c h::m~<i ng. T he .sn:1ke e nters thL'
gartkn: 1he middle da53Cs sr:1.n ro risr; rhour.hts fa ll :rpan from
feeling:s, so that oobody thinks through their fingertips any more; and
his tnry sl~rt" u ut u n its lung lrek cow....-ds Mr G~ur~:~ e- Bush. Thr.
three Kfe:at :art:as of hi:.luric.:al lift: - knuwlt:clKc, !KIIitit..' desire - art:
 FR O ~t THE i'OJ.IS TO POSTMODI:RNISM

uncoupled from one :mother; each becomes sp«:ializcd, aumnomous,

scaled off into its own space. Knowl«<ge burst out of its ethical
constrainl1< and began to operate by i L< own inu:nul autonomous bws.
Undt"r d1e uaOlt science~ ir no longer bore any obviou.~ relation to
the ethical or acsthclic, and so began w lose touch with .slue. About
this time, philosophers began to discover that you c;,uld not derive a
w lue from 1 fact Foe classical thooght, to :l!l-'wer the quntioo 'what
am I to do?' involved making n:ferencc to my actual pbcc v.itbin the
social relations nf the polis, and the rights :md respcnsibiliries which
that brought along wilb it. A normative language WliS bound up with a
cognitive one. Now, however, the answers to why we should be moral
become non· cognitivist Either: you ought 10 be morol because
doesn't ir fed Dice to be sood? Or: you shuuld be moral because it i>
moral ro be •o. Both of I he'" ""POliS<! uriliu, in '"''Y diffcrenr woys,
the mudel of the aesdtetic, winch at about this time was also floating
adrift into its own autonomow space, and so could be drawn upon as
a kind of model of ethiC31 autonomy. The morol and the aesthetic,
both in deep uouble, could thus come to one another's aid. The
cultunl system had detached itself from lbe economic and political
systems, and thus came to figure as an end in itself. Indeed art had to
be an end in itself, becouse it certainly didn't seem to have much else
o f a purpose any more.
1bis story ""'Y see on yet allother ritual of n05talgic remembmnce
for the orpnic so<:icty, but in fa<:t it is nuL For why should we
presume that the condition in which the.se three discourses we.re
intenneshed wus a positive on~ Libera red from cnunping thevlosical
coturrainl, knowl«<ge may now steam ahead and probe into what was
previously taboo, relj.ing on no authority but its own critical, stcprical
powers. Science becomes a revolutionary satke apiost the stateSmCD
and high prieus in the n2111e of human welfare and lnrellecrual
i.ndependence. Ethical enquiry is oo longer e-..:lusivdy harnessed to
the ccdcsial apparatuS, burls free to raise queStions of human Justice
and dignity beyond lhi< narrow scope. Art, ton, can now cease tO be a
mere lackey of political power, sweuri11g fi<lelity only to it> ov.n law;
but this is not gr~ady di>turbiniJ, sina: me '"'ry social conditions
whlt:h allow thi<l to happen - the autaft01ni2.arion of ct1lture - also
prevent an's potentially subveJSive freedom from having much of an
effect on otllcr areas of sotial tifc. Art comes to sigoil)• pure
supplementarily, lbat marginal region of the affectivcl'lllStinctuaV

367
non-instrumental which • reifocd rariuna6ty fmds diflic-ul~ in
incorporaling. Bur because il has become an isolared enclave, it can
act as a kind of .. rety-nlve or sublimation of th«e otherwise
dangerous reaches of the psyche.
The moment we an: speaking of Is the moment of modernity,
characteri>.ed b)· the dissociation •nd specialization of these thr«
crucial sphtres of acti,ily. t\rt is now autonomous of the <'tlgniti-e,
ethical and potitiC21; but the way it eame to be so Is paradoxical. b
became autonomnu.s of them, curiou&ly enough, by being in"'1)rowl
into the capilalist mode of production. When art becomes 1.
commodity, it is released from ill; traditiOillll social functions wilhi.n
churcfl, court and .rate into t.he tn()nytnous freedom of the marlr.et
plat~-. N~, it exists, not fur any spa.ific audient-e, but just for
anybody with the taSte 10 appreciate it and the money to buy it. t\nd io
so £or iiS it exists for nathinj; and nobody in particular, it can be said to
exist for itsdf. It is 'independtnl' because it has been swallowed up by
commodity production.
Art itself may rhus be an increasingly margin21 pursuit, but
aesthetics is not. Indeed one might risk the rather exaggerated
formulation that aesthetics Is bom at the moment of art's cffoctivc
demlse os • polldcaJ force, Oourishes on the corpse of its social
releVllDCe. Though artistic production itself plays l<ss and less of a
signilieaDt role in the social order (Marx reminds us that the
bourgeoisie have absolutely no time for it), what it is able ro bequtath
to that order, a< it were, is a certain ideological model which may help
it out of its mess - the mess -..itkb hos marginalized pleasure ODd the
body, reilied """""• ODd struck morality entitely empty. The
aesthetic oiTers t.o reverse thi.< division oflahnur, to hring these three
denoted regions bact into tow:b with one another, but the price it
demands for thi• genero<icy is high: It offers to interrelate these
discourses by effecti•ely swaiiCNo'ing up the other twO. E•erything
shou.kl now bcc:omc a•-sthcti<:. Truth, the <0J11itive, becomes that
which utisli.. the mind, or Yo'bat helps us to move around tile plaao
rather more conveniently. Morality i.~ con..,·erred to .. maner of style,
plcosurc oDd iotuitiun. How should one live one's life pruperly1 B,
turning oneself iDto an ancfact.
There is finally the question of politics. Here the aestheticizing
lineage can take either a left or a tisht tum. The left 1um: Slllllsh
tnllh, cognition and morality, which arc all just ideololl)', a11d Jive

368
fuxurhmtl}· in the free, grO\mdlE"Ss play nf yuu r Ci t-alive powets. T he
right tum, from Ourl<< and Cokridge to Heideggcr, Yeau ond EHoo·
fur~,..::~ :a.h(lu t tl:aeorttic.d anal,·sis, ding 10 the sensuously particular,
vie""' -iOCiCIY :tS a ~r:lf-grnuncJinK organism, aU of whoM: i'arl~
miraculously imerpenetnte without con.tlict and requite no rationtl
jm;rifu::.tion. T hink wilh 1ltc: IJiuOO aud dle bod y. R.emttllber tb:1t
tr3dition is alW'flys wj5cr (lnd ricbcr than one':; own pt•rr. pitiahle c:~ u.
It is this line ()of de.scent>in oot of its tributaries. which will ie-ad to the
Third Rt~:ith . lr ~ II hq,rino: wilh th ~ v.urk uf art, :aud e tKlS U(' with a.
$(a~ in a field.
The lefl·atsthetic uaditieon, from Schiller and l\otan: to Morris and
\hrcust~. hilt; mud1tu he sailllilf it: 111111S triliqut ( J( alit uatiO«l, as a il
t xemplary ruliu tion of c:rea1ivc powers. as 1hc idc·al rcconciliatio:. oi
suhj•·c·t and nh}t:L1: utt~rs.·ll and p arti\:u~.a.r, fr~ed(l!h ,m d necessity,
thtor:1 a.nd pracd<c. iTl dividu~ l and sr.w:ie'Y· :\ 11 of these nmicm!-1 w uld
be c:qu;ally deplored b~· the p()Litical right; but while tbe bouOJooiiic is
sriU in its p~$ i\'t: rho~e,thil'>styl~:: nftluak.in!;t:UmeS tltruugh as a
powerfuUy pos:ltivt Utopianism. Prom me fnd of me ninctccmh
~eut\lf)' , bowevef, thi$ heritage 'oqins to tum $0Uf. and th i~ h 1he
;nmnt:nl uf mut.lenti$Ul. M oderuiSlll is Ot)e or Wt illhtriiOJS of this
:adic;!.! 3~sthctidz:ing, bw in the nt-gath·c modt: art, in Adorno's
l"~gn:t J t iJJhr:th: , as the 'negative knowledge of rea1iry'. Modernism in
s n, anrl l=ucr ttlc Frankfun o;chool and pu~Hitrut.:l uralism in thl!t.-y:
thuc are he.t ped ofi the gr<>und because the more positivt aesthct~
ll':u.ti(inn t'l:ll$ rnn out uf su:::.m, f.nt r~~ l lht: .o;y!Jent 1011 ptov.r:rfuJ IU
brcaL Wt art now mo~o·in~ into lare capka lism~ into nn app11rendy
whoiJy rcificd, rationalized, administered regime. You can't bring it to
it.s l01:~s with ur~r,utic: l.nfiStltauship, !)(J )Ou l..r.--e to lJ)' mst«:;ld the
s-ilcn1 scream. th(· scream which in Munch's hmous painting rips open
!.he bbll.lo. I"ace of Lbe .soliu.ry f:g\lfe and reverbetates endlessly around
ttlt: t:am·ao;. T 'nc: at:~t ht: tic; ht."l.'(!lft~ the l(Ut:rillu l l c:lit:.s uf :>t!U'tl
subversion, of silent resistance, of stubbom refusal. .'\ n will pufo;clizc
tr;u.fiLionaJ fun!!. a11d thcauiog, bn-aust lltt:- b&.ws uf !O)' !IUJI ;~ml
&rr:lmmor ;~ re fhe l:ru.-s of the r oiice. It will dnnc:~ c>n 1h e gra\·e of
narrath't, semantics and rcpresentatioo. ctlcbr.ue madness and
delirium) $peak lil;.e ,a wom.an. dissolve aD SCl(i.a} diakctic:"b irUO the
fn:c OCJw u f desu e. lis fuml will become i t~ C..Yilllct!l- .a furm whi..:h
rt"pttiSC'!O all social semantiC'\ and might just ~now us :11 glimpse nf whac
il might conccivabl)' bt like to be free. But at tile same moment this
 an i.! furful and wretched, blank and listless, old enough to
rememboor a time when there was order, truth •nd reality ond still to
some degree nostalgically in thrallu> them.
From Romantici.<m In modemi.sm. art strives to tom to advanta'c
tho autonomy ...tuch its commodi'IY SllltuS has forced upon it,
making a vinue ow of grim neccui'IY. Aumn001y in the worrying
sense - sncial functionless ness - is wrenched into autunomv in a
more productive sense: an as a deliberate turnin~ in upon itsclf, IS •
mute gesture of resistance 10 a social order which, in Adorno's
pl1n1sc, holds a gun to its head. 1\csthl:tic autonomy becomes a
kind of negative politics. An, tikc humanity, is u~rly, gloriously
tiSekss, perhaps the one non-reified, non-instrumenlllli<d form of
a<'livil)lleft. In post-StnH:turalist thoory rhls will become the traJ:e or
aporia or ineffable flicker of diffcreocr which eludes all forma~2:1tion,
th31 giddy moment of failure. slippsge or jovimma where you
might just glimpse, in some necessarily empty, unspeakable way,
something beyond the prison house of met>physics. Such a truth, as
\V'Jtlgenstein might have said, can be shown but not spoken; and this
negative acsthclics thus proves too feeble a basis on which to found •
politics.
There v;ould then seem only one route left open, and that is an art
which rejcciS the •esthetic. An an against itsdf, which llOilfesses the
impossibOlty of an, like those fuD-blown J>Cl!llmodemist theories
which proclaim the impossibmcy oftheol)'. .o\n art, in shon, wbich will
undo all this depressing history, \\ilith will go right back even before
the beginning, before the dawning of the whole category of the
aesthetic, and seek to override in iiS own way that moment at the birth
of modernity when the cognitr;e, ethico-polirical and Ubidln.al·
aesthetic became uncoupled from one another. This lime, however, it
will.seek to do it not in lhe matmerofthe radi<:ala"Sthelicuers, by the
acsthelic coloniring these other two regions, but by folding the
aesthetic into the other two ~-stems, In an ancmptto hook an up once
ag:>in with sociol pr• xis..
This is the revolutionary avant garde. The iMUlt garde proclaims:
)'OU can't do it by aesthetics, aesthetics is pan of the problem, not of
the ,;olutinn. The problem of.n is 3rt itself, so let's have an art which
isn't an. Down with libraries and museums, paint your pictUres on
people's pyjamas, read your poeuy throup megaphones in factory
yards, JeJI(( the audience on the town hall when the play is over, .leave

370
.'10 Uf Studjos. ai·HJ go ~)Ul iult) lht fa~IOJ ieS (:IS .iOhW: U( dlt Bolsftt:\lik
a_\•anr j!;ardc acntodl)' did) to mal:c uS<'ful objC'cts for the worker;
for neg.ati,·e atsdlt ricians like .\donlO. this is unmitisatc:d cata·
:umphc. Fur if art :..1TiiL"'hc:s tb ruu!;f1 the IUnnal ..:unlour.; whit:h
demarcate and estrange it i~(im or.:lin:uy life, will it nQt simpJy
sut:c.:t:c:U iu spilliug ;t.m( <it:fu~ i ug iLs ~.:riliul couLt:ub;? HtJw 1.:a!1 :t
stomly 1ashionrd Conslmni,isl r.:.n.:L:ing- chair a>:t AS c::riti,tnc? From
1hi.s viewpoint, the avant g..rde is simply the l.ttest instance of I)Ur old
friend int!tnrili,> uhm·l~ ftism, rchdlinus t:hiltln:n ~etddng 111 u u rrngt~
thdr not-9U-rhal-shockabJc p~l'(>nts.
All of th.is c:an be pi~:tured as a kind of narratl\·e progression. firs t,
iu a sumewhal naiH· m uu1cnl: you imu~i nc 1ha1 yuu mighl :tlibverl Ibe
given order by <crt:ain aesther:it contents. But cnedy bcc:~ use t-hese
:m: iHtt:liigiblt:, tr<u~l u..:c ul , iaid)(u! w IJu!' kms of gr:umnal', l~ lt:)' ialJ
victim to tr.c ;:cry snc:i:al logic rt...y oppose. lr may be r<1d ic.:~l. blH a.1
least it'! art. h may represcr.t the Mpabtable, but at lu~1 it does w
"'1th :1 SC:niJ'llhns fid clif) "-' hk h :to;s u :t ~ {he m i d, l h~ i,:lno...-.:' s pnrnl)-
f:r<tphi{' appetjce for the re:ll. So you C:ln sb.:-.:1 oonten[ tnd ~fA\'(' <1nl~·
form b-ehind, which in ii.s more positive moment holds out l promise
11f ltappi.uc:.:o uml ('t~aui c n:t:ooc.iliutiun, umJ iu il='> ntt)tt: ttcJ::aliva:
moment traces :a illggcd :inc ol· inartiC\II3blc opposirion to the given.
An)' su(h form, h.awt1Jt!'l will !-:.ill i.t\Sl<Utt!) uaHita tht: iudgt:ulf.n\ u(
whwl Man:uS<: cmt:.: called 'allirmarivc: c·ultur<"', Art'.-; \'~...ry an:i'Jtl')',
C\'¢n if dut is now 2. question of pure form, effects a &purious !Ort o f
l!ubliuuliun wh:..:h '-"ill h ind 2ml ..:nn llM::m: th t~ ve:ry energi~~ it hopes
to r~le:'lse for the purposts of poli1ical change. \\'(· Slumbl.:· upoo the
contudktion of aU utopianism, tbat its vc:•J lmag~ o: hlrmony
rl:u<caten to) h1iad;. tht t'tldi('u( impube.) the; llupt: 10 fttum cotc. So fC1nn
must go ti>l>, ho·""'"\'Cr pur~ :and empty. :\nd this k3VCS us witb anli~
1rt. an .an whi<h is noc appropa·i:.~.ble b)' lho: 1u)jng tJ J'tlt! la:caus:c - Lhc
(ult:d (;uun itt,g - it i:m'l ar1 stt wit. The prnhlt:m 'ol.illi thi,, hr...,'C.-:vcr, is
th•t whn CAnnot b.:- appropriated 3rld insritution.alizcd b~c-ause it
refuses to distaoce itsd( from soci;al tlr3t.:hce iu Ihe lirst rl:K:c: m:a~· by
IItt: !oa!llc Iuken abult.;h all nitk :tl point of pn-rr.hBse upon scxial lit<-.
Likf• thr lr;ft - Jt.::~thnic: li.n<'.agc., the ;r.vant g.n de has two momc:nts,
one r.c.lyativc a nd on~ p()Sitiw:. The nt !;J.ti'lc Jspect is pcrh.l;>6 the best
l.nOWJ}: sbud~, oulr:it;;.c, rnuu!4:t..:h ~::s un 1he Mona T.isa. If is rlifh cnlt to
b11.:.t a r~t~d itics nn il, and c.Jifticuh fO do it C"·icc. Thi;c t'Urf'('flt c( tht
3\'ant prJc t3kCii up the ncg.z.tive aestheti< of modernism and

J? l
destroys m<111linJ. Wbat is i~ in the <-nd, that the bourgeui>ic cannot
uke? Meanlngkssru:ss. Don't strike at this or that bit of idcoiog!cai
tne..aing. for if you do you stay within the orbit of orthoooxy; strike
instead at the very structure and matrU: of meaning. and c'OIIfuund
ideology In this scandalous way. There is also !he positi\'c moment of
the av•nt garde, that nf llacht rather than Dada. This proclaims:
there is indeed a way of resisting incorporotion by the ruling order,
wbatenr the fashionable jeremiads about bow they v.ill simply hang
Picasso< on the walls of their bonks. That, claims this avant garde
tn-nd, is not tlte puint. If they can place your re-·olutiooary anefact> in
their bank> then drat means Ollly one thing: oot that you were not
ioonoclasric or ~eri.mental enough, but that either your art was nOt
<keply enough rooted in a revolutionary politic:rl movement, or it was,
but that this mas> movement faikd. How idealist to imagine that arr,
aU by itself, could resist incorporation! The question of appropriation
has to do with politics, not with cullure; it is a queS~io11 of who is
winning at any particular time, If they win, L'Ontinuc to govern, then it
is no doubt true that there is nothing which they caMot in principle
defuse and contain. Ifp win, they will nor be able to appropriate a
thinf bccau>t you will have appropriated them. The one thing which
the boaJieoisie cannot incorporate is its ov.u politKal dcf..,.L Let
them rry banging tillll on rbe walls of their hank•. The negative 3\'ant
garde tries to awid such ab.orption by not produd.ng an object. No
anefaas: just gestures, happenings, manifestations, disruptions. You
cannot integrate tlw which consumes i'"lf in !he moment of
production. The positt.·e avant gnn:le understands that the question of
integration SWids or faDs with the dminy of a mass political
movement
The avant g:rrdc's response 10 the cognitive, ethical and aesthetic is
quite uncqui\vcal. Troth is a lie; morality stinks; beauty is sbiL 1\nd
of course they arc absolutely righr. Truth is a V.'hite House
communiqui; mor.>lity is the Moral Majority; beauty is a uak.ed
w1lman advertising perfume. Equally, o( course, they are wrong.
Truth, monlil)' and beaut)' 1re roo important ro be hmded
contemptUously over to the political entmy.

The avant garde failed, rolled back by SEalinism and fascism.' Some
time bter, Ul)·ssa entered the uniwrsil)' syllabuses and Schoenberg
sidled regularly into the 0011"""halls. The institutionalization of

372
 f'I\OM Til& PQI.IS TO POOT.~ODtR.\USM

auodem1stn had set in.• Dul the social order oo which modernisoo
fumed if:q bad w:t!i nl('lidly changin~ too. It was no longer ~iM(lly 'tMI
society', the realm of appetite 1 utili~· and instrumental reason to bt
t:tnmkrp<!!>t d II> 'udlun:•; with the. tlc\·dupmcfll u f umsuntcf
C3pitalism, it too l:N-otmr. JlCTv.~.o;;ivcly at~SihcriciY.r-:cl . T he whr..'_:'ialc;
aestheticiution of iOCicl)' had found its gro1esque ~otbeosis for a
hriv.f mnmt'!nt m fast.i~mJ v.i th 11" p:moply uf myrhs, symtwds :tnd
orgiastic SP«tllclcs. ils reprcssi\'e c-xpr(sstvity, its appc-ah to passion,
ractal rotu.itioo, instinctual judgement, the s1.1blimity of sdf-S.lcrifi«
anJ the pul:>c: ul tht: hlm.J. A ll I in the p!ISI · ..ur yur.> 11. diiii-:n:nl ltmn
of acsthctici~tion w:a..o;; also tO saturate- the entire culture of late
capital, witb its fetishism of St) le ~ 00 surf300. iu cult o(hedonisJU aod
rc:.:hnitiUt:, its n:i 1)-ing u f •lu: si)(friht:r ami d i:.plm:cment nf tlis.:ur..;ivt:
meaning v;'ith nndom intensitks. lrt its early stages, capiWistn had
o;h:arply sev~r:d tht: :-.'Yinh~ 'l i~.: fnm• the et:rJJIIIf11lc: 111)\l'lhl'! twusptlert~s
arc inccngruousl)· Ktmitcd. as the c-oonomie prncmncs deeply Uno
the symbolic realm itnl(, and the libidinal body is harnessed to the
ili•I~O.:l.iOJt:s uf ptolit We were now, 5<, w~ v.e1t: lui~ in tbe rr<1 uf
postmodemism.
Prom ~ r~dica.l ~wpoint1 the case for lhe defence o( pcM!Ulodttnism
might 1.(11 mught}· :t:. !i:!lluws. l'nshnudt:rtli.;m rtll!T.St:nts 1hc: J::utsl
iconoclastic upsurge of the ~\·-ant gardc, with its den\04jc confounding
i,( hicr.m:hicl>: its u:lf-rell~)i\·t: suh;,.c:n.:Kmo; ~, ( idt:••lugit'31 df1sure: ill'>
populist dcbu n~.ing of inre1Jccm:1\ism and elitism. Ir thcu SOtlnds a
little too euphoric~ one ~· alway~ try bstead the c.asc for the
PfOSecution. dJ'Olwing aueuliuu lu pusi!IKttJernNn'll <.11ft:rumcrisl
he<lc>nl:om and philistine anti-historicism, its wholesale abandonment
of critique <111d c:ommibneul, iu cynical et':l.sw·e u( llulh, nu:auing aud
:.uhj c~.:li Yit -y, i t:-. hlank, n :ificd tr:chnulugi-;m.
It cln be 1rgued til at the first OOcriplion is true of eert.tin cuntnt~
l)( posttuutJcwis•nt :md tin-: se-cund true uf n~rtJin t;.tht~ rs. This rnse is
mac ao; tin :.s it l~OCS, b-.n SOII1C14'hal boring. The mort inttrt'sting Ca$~
"'·ould be to c~jm that, in many ir not all postmodcrni$t nunifeSbtlou.s,
both descriptions ap* siJuultatleou:>l_y. ~1.ud l postmodem.ist ~ul t un:
is bnrh mdical :md cnn~e,·,,lft•e, icooociASll<: Md lneorpo!'I.ICil., in 1hc
same br<ath. T his is so btcause of ' contndkrion between the
<cooom.lc .. nd cultur-il forms ofbtc: capitalist society. or, mofe sio.lply
bt:twt."t!n t.":lllll:t.list tcrmiltll}' and hc)UtgP-nis (:ltl mr~ . Bourgf!ois t ltlture
•. r ~ rrnditNmal h umanistic kind tend$ to valut hlcrarc-h)', d is-tinction.
 unique identity; wbatlhreatens constantly to Wtdenninc this cxquisit<iy
well-ordered structure is not so much the politic:al left a.< the
cavorting,; of the commodity. The commodity, as we have secu in the
weNt of Marx. is tral.sgressivc, promiscuous. pol)morphous; in its
sublime self-e>-pansivcncss, its levelling passion to exch;mge with
anolher of it< lind, it offers parado·<ically to bring low tl•e very fmely
nuanced superstructure - CliO it 'culture' - which s<rvcs in part to
protect and promote it. The commodil)' is the ruin of ;ill distinctive
idendty, craftily conserving the eli !Terence of use·value but only by
dint of sublating it to that sameness-in-difference which for Walter
Benjamin was fushlon. It tr3JlSITiutcs soci.1l r<!ality to a wildemes• of
mirrors, as one objec:t contemplates the ubsttact essence of itstlf in
the looking glass of another, and that in anomer. Traversing with
supe!f> indifference the division.< of class, sex and race, of high and
low, past and present, d1e commodily appwrs 2s im anarchic,
icoooclastic force whicb mocks me obsessive rankings of traditional
culture even a.'" it in some sense depends upon. lhem to secure the
stable conditions for its own operations. Like mum posrmodcmist
culture, the commodity intCJTatCS biJb and low; bur bow progressrre
a gesture this is is radically ambiguous. !'or the question of an 'elitist'
or a 'popular' an, one aesthetically aloof from everyday life as ugainst
one whi<-h o::mbrii.X'> the motifs of <Onunon CJqlCricnc.:, •'allllot be
posed ln a purely formal, abstract way, in disregard fnr the kind of
common experience ~~ i56tle. An art which espouses tile Lthmrwth
of Lie; Vegas is not the same as uoc whicb takes tu the streets of
Leningrad; a postmodemism which responds to local community
needs, in art or archlrect:ute, differs from one which Lu-es its cue from
the market place There is no automatic virtue in the 'integration' of
culture aad common life, aay more than there is in their dissociation.
From Niet7sehe onwards, tile 'b:l.~e· of capitali<t society begins 1(1
enter into embanassing contradiction with its •supcrstructw:c!. The
legitimalinJ forms of high bourgeois <:Uiturc, tbe vcni<ms and
definitions of subjectivity which they have to offer, appear less and
I.ess adequate to the uperience of late capirali.• m, but on the other
hand cannot merely be abandoned. The mandarin culture of the high
bourgeois epoch is progressively c31lcd into question by the later
evolution of tllat very soci:Jl sysaen~ but remain& at certain ideological
I<Vels indispensable. It is indispensable partly because the subject u
unique, autooomous, self-identical and self-determining remains a

37+
 FROM 'mE PO(.IS TO POSTMODERNIS~I

potitical and ideological rcquir<:ment of the system, but partly because

the commodity is incapabl• of generating a sufficiently legitimating
ideology of its own. Discourses of God, freedom ond family, of the
unique spiritual essence of the individual, renin much of their
traditional fun:e, but come also to hiWC soonethint; of an implou.iblc
ring to them, in a social order where the highest empirical value is
clearly profit. The United State<, which tend& to wear its ideology on
irs slt·c•;c in <:ontrnst to the more oblique ancJ •naluralizec.l' ideological
modes of Europe, is then a particularly striking instance of this
discrq xmcy, in which tl1<: conflict between high-sonnding met:tphysic;ol
claptrap and having your fingers in the till bulks farcically larJC.
NietzSche's alarmingly radical solution to this dilemN- forget about
the metaphysics and e<:lebr:tte uooshamedly the wiD to power- had
necessarily to be rejecttd by the bourgeoisie, since it deprived them of
too IJUIIY of their rradldortallegitim2dng forms. Dener to appear a
hypocrite chon to cut the ground from under one's feet.
l ltc radical credentials of an assault on cll!Ut culrurc, in this
siruation •• least, are likely to be oomewhat ambiguous. It is IIOf ooly
that such culturt itself contains meanings and \-alu.,. which may
beoome available for a radical critique; it it also that arransgression of
the frontiers between high and low, esoteric and dem00c, lies in dte
very nature of capitatism itself. For Marl, it is pan of the
emandparory dynamk of that sociory to dimlandc all ~cred spacC4,
mix • plunality of idioms, and strip the obje<:t's oura of uniqueness to
the compulsive repetition of mcchmial reproduction. As Benoh
Brecht once remarked, It b capitalism that is radlc:al, not communism.
This i.~ not of course to argue that aU subve:rsinrt~ oft!litist culture are
politically unawilinl; il is simply 10 poiru up the deJfce of complicity
between SOIM •uch gestures and the capitalist system itself.
Bourgeois society rates culture urremely highly and has no time for it
whiiSO\"Cr; to assail a sequcstmd an may thus signify a f!'CIIllinely
radical strategy at the ve ry moment il risks reproducing rhe logic of
what it opposes. 11tis is not, il should be said, a contnldiction to which
the more ebulli<'lll apologists of postmodemism s.:cm particularly
sensitive.
A work like joyce'• U/yutJ is at it.• most scandalous and subversive
in iiS critique of the bourgeois myth of immanent mconing. As the
type of aD onti-auratic t extS, a mechanical recycling of a sacred
documem, ()!yuts pulverh.es this mythoiQID· by trading the distinctiorrs
37$
between high and low, holy and profane, past and present,
aulhentichy and derivativeness, and does so with aU the d01110tic
vulgarity of the commodily itself. Franco Moreni has pointed out how
ruthlessly U!fua commodifies discollr.IC itself. reducing lhe ~
ideology of 'unique style; to a ceauless, aimless cin:ulation of
pa~ codes "'ithout meta~c privilege, a pvlyphony of
scrupulously 'faked' verbal formulae implacably hostile m the
'personal voice'.' What is Jamts J~e's style? But this gmvous
reitication of language, with aU its Flaut.:rtian sculpting of inen
verbal mao:rials, is then cxxdy what licenses Ja,ce's Bakhtinian
radlcaHsm, his camlvalesque, dialoglcol impacting of one Idiom on
another - just as in the W.k< a profoundly political undennining of
fixed signification comes about throup lhe movements of a
promiscuous signifier which, like the commodily form Itself, must
always level and equali7.e idellritie< in order to pemmtate them in
startling new ways. The mechanism of ei!Chaogc or locus of
exchange-value is here the pun or multiple signifier, "'ithin whose
inner space, as with the <'Ommodity itself, the most >1rilinsly di>panrte
meallings may indifferently combille. It is ill this sense that Joyce, to
adopr Marx's phrase, allows history m progress 'by Its bad side',
staning in Brechtian fashion from the: bad new things mther than
from the good old on~ His te.>:ts tum the economic logic of capilalist
life against its haUowed cultural forms, furening tenaciously upon a
contradiction within late bourgeoi< society be- en the realm of
meaning - the >")'Dlbolic onlcr in w!Uch difference, uniqueness and
privilege arc the order of tile day - and the sphere of production,
w!Uch that symbolic order ironicaUy hdps to su•tain. Ulj= morb
the historic point at which capital begiJlS tO renet,..te into the •<rJ
~~n~cturcs of the symbolic order itself, reorgani2iug this ucrosanct
terrain in accordance with Its own dcsraded, emanelpatOf)' logic. It is
as though Ulysus and the W""-' lift a protean dissolution of oil stable
identity from base to superstnlcturc, pusing that (IRllt circuit of
desire whlcb is coplrallsr produclivlty through tbe domains of
longu•ge, meoning and wlue. And to do this is then to collapse the
classical diswu:tioo between bourccois cMI society and the public
space of'culrurc', so that the high-minded harmony of the latter is no
longer so re:adily available to mystify and legitimate tbe ,..,.. appetite of
the former.
Caught like a restless ghost within the later evolution of capitalism,

376
 1'110111 nl£ POJ.IS TO POSTMOD!JINISM

liberal humanism is unable either to die or rerum to tife. The centred,

autonomo\1$ human subject is no clapped-out metaphysical fantasy,
to be dispersed at a touch of deconstruction, but a continuing
ideological necessity cot~SUndy outstripped and decentrod by the
operations of the system itself. This hangover from an older liberal
epoch of bourgeois society is still alive and kicking as an ethical,
juridical and political category, but embarras<ingly out of gear with
certain altemati•e versions of subjectivity which arise more directly
from lbc we capitalist economy itself. Both forms of subjecthood arc
ideologically essential, at different levels of the <A)Cial formation; so
that a pustmodcmist critique of the replete, monadic subject is often
enough forcefully radical in one sense and nor at all so in another. To
tum the logic of the commodity against the imperatives of mural
humanism - to pit the subject as o diffuse nerwork of passing libidi.nal
anacbmenrs against that stronuously self-<lirecting agent which
continues to represent the syslem's official ideal - is a.s unacceptable
10 the regulators of production as it is wekome 10 the stage managers
of eonsumpcion.
Asimilar ambivalence hangs qver the question ofhistoricity. Is post-
modcmlsm's cclcbntcd historical eclecticism radical or reactionary, a
sportive, productive refuncrioning of authoritarian tradition or a
&i\'Oious dc!tisturidzing which freezes history itself to so many
banalized recyclable wares? It is surely impoosiblc to answer this
question without first :assessing something of the signifiC>nce of
history fur late. bourgeois society itself. On the one hand, that society
reveres history as authority, continuity, heritage; on the other hand it
plainly ha.• no ti- for it whatsoe\·er. Hislory, as Mr Ford remarked,
is bunk, a proposition "ilh which a Marxist would aot necessarily
wish to disagree. E•erything depends, once apln, on 'ilflether one is
considering the symbolic or the producti¥e reolm: the history which
plays a venerable role ia the former is continually up!Umcd by the
existential Now or crudely progressivist ideologies of the latter.
'History' as a concept lacks all unitary, self-identical status in such an
order.• which is <me rc:aS<!n why it is difficult to ovaluotc in the abstract
the political force of pb)ing around with it. Walter Benjamin wu
given to distinguishing between history proper ood what he termed
'tradition', signifyinr the narrative of the <.fupo>scned. Only by a
riiUII of revolutionary remembraace, lifiing the Proustian raimoirt
iNWin•tairt onto the historic:~! plane, could this d•a!>"rous, premrious

377
 power of tradition be prised m e of the ruling-class lineages with
which it is bound up and revived as • sttategy for unlocking the
political present ReYolutionary nostalgia slices sideways into time,
shattering its empty continuum and, in a sudden llash of su.rreRiisa or
Kabbalistic correspondence, 'constcllating' a moment of lbc crisis-
rocked present with a redeemed fragment of the tradition of the
oppressed. This has, perhaps, a superficial resemblance to post·
modernist eclecticism, thougJI 'superficial' is no doubt the word. Tbe
pMbkm is lbat Uenjaminian tradition l' not some kind of sepanble,
autonomous history which Oov.·s silendy beneath ruling-class time,
gJ!osting it lilc its shadow; it il; !limply a set of r.:current crises or
conjuncture• within that official temporality, so that the delieacy <>fan
hist<>rical herme.oeutic is one of knowing how to dimopt ruling-class
hist<H}' without spilling the prc<ious resources of tradition along with
it Benjamin appreciates that tbere are, after all, different, CO!IIr3tfictoly
histooes - dtat it c-an never be n question uf some stark binary
oppositioo bcrween the dead wcigJ>t of tbe past and some brave new
present, since the past is precisely what we arc made of. 'We
Marxists', commented Leva Trotsky, 'have always li-•ed in tradition'-
a Statement wmaJiy JP"Ctl!d with some bcmusement by those political
radicals for whom 'tradition' spontaneously signifies the Hnu.se of
Lords or the Changing ofthe Guard rather than the Chartists and the
Suffragettes.
Posunodemlsm has been eager to Interrogate traditional c(lflcep-
tions of truth, and this scepticism of absolute, monological truth
claims has produced SOIIlf genuinely radical effects. At dte same time,
pos1111odemlsm has betrayed a certain cbronic tendency ro caricanore
the ootions of truth adhered to by irs opponents, setting up straw
WJets of lrliiiSCendentally disintereslcd knowlcdac In order to reap
lbt self-righteous dtllghts of ritu21ly bowling !hem o'er. One of lbe
n10s1 powerful ideological ploys ofUbe111l humanist thougJ>t has been
to '"''Urc """"' suppDi<dly internal relation between tnlth and
dlainterestedness, which it is imponanr that rsdicals should sever.
Unles< we l~:~d interests of some kind, we would ,.,. no point in
bothering to find out anything in the first place. But it is considerably
too convenient to imagine that :tll dominant social ideolo~s
necessarily openne in accordance -.ith obsolute, self-idenlical COilccp4S
of truth, which a touch of tcxtuu~cy. deconstruction or self-relle>ive
irony is lhen capable of undoing. 1\ny such simplistic antithesis
378
bverJoc.ks the internal cro.p~l:i!)' of suc-h ideologies, which are w~Jl
cap:tb1e from rime to time of enlisting irolly and se l f~retJe xi vi ty on
Their side. Go<~d lil:ler,1ls. as F.. M. FurSicr ku~w. ml.l!'t he lihcral
enough ro be Stlspiciou3 of being libe r~Js. Lite lhe hucr Fro~nkfort
s<hool~ m-uch postmodernist thcocy ;:ypic3!l)· enterr;Uns :1. \'iSiOD of Wt
1\tgemonk ideologies of 1he WE-st as c~ntr11 lly reliant l•pon apodicti<
iJ'uth, totalizeci system. transcendental $igni6cation. mcuphysic.tl
;{t'Hu.mlt:duc:s.-., the n::Jiuralil'..atiou uf h i.~Lorical t."OU !iug~u(_y aut! a
!ekologicat dynamic. AD of these fu.ctors rtlay an und::nisbk pan in
ilk(l!ogical leg:itifu:..lion, bul spelled out itt that surt fo nn tllt_v
dr.line::u~ :tn id~nl• >bric::d p :m••ligm t:nn:-.itl~rably more n ;;id :md
'exrreme' 1han the iruemally d:ffercnti:u ed, c.:.:"Uradk rory soda)
discoUJSC:S whicb now domW:ne us. T be vtrol. distinction lx:tv•eeu
libe.nll capilaliSt $oOC"iety and its more padlotogkOO I£Sd'iliC' forms is
thus ,bngcrouily obi(Urcd. There is no fC'.l50D, for example, to
a:;~umt: lhat aU dumimml :>tx·ial it.lt:ulugie::, iuvof,•t: ll ptrv-.a."'ivt:,
!1.-ystcma.Jic naturalization of his10~'. as ·a whole !incatc- of thinkers,
tlotll Georg Lu.L:;i.cs to Roi:and BaJthes :and P:.~ul de M<11~ lt.lve
:tppa.rr.nlly prt-stl(lf'''"~d .
'T~· mate a dr.1m.a of something whloC'b ihoo1d be trh·ial by n6w,'
J Urgcn Habcnn.ts rcmOU"ks weardr of Adorn., illld D t rrK!a. 'a
t'11Jiibili~ concep1ion of tnlth n d knowl('(lge. t:'-en J leann this li·om
Popper!'·~ Jf this is one problem v.ith the ponmodemist or post~
stru clur..Jjsl \:(P~'ICt:l'l) LO J)(u~ 1he sbids unt.lt'r lrulh, aautJu:r i~ it:;
UMllS\', unwillln~ complichy with Ctrta:n of the less palatabk political
realities of lat¢ i;,ollT!(oiS soc-iety. few nobody wb() h.u read a
~cn t:nuu.:nl \.'t •m m uni1~uC t.'.:Hl he: m tht: lr:ast suqniSt>.ti ttl:n lnHh is nt,l
longc:r in f.1 shion. Gross dt'ctption, wh.itc ~'<uh. C'O\'('r·up and ~·ing
through one'.$ teeth: these arc no l~:mger sporadic., regrettable
neceo:s itit-~" ••f nur
form of life bu~ p~mHnendy and StrlK1ttraUy
essential to it. In S".JCh conditions, the true facu - conceded.
sup?resscd. distorted - C"3n bt' in tllemsel\'ts pol!licolll)· f AplosiH:; ami
(hose "''ho hnve developed th(' nervous tk of placing such vulgar
tcnm as ' truth' 1nd 'filet' in fastidiously diHanciag scare quc>tc:~
sltoukl be c:u·eiUi ll> <h'Oid a Ct-rt:aiu ~·ullu"'iuu betwt:c:n chdr t'"'~' high~
toned tlteol't:lical gbtur~:-. am.l tht' rru~r~t banal, rnUJinr. poliricai
Stltlre-gies of 1he rapit~ list powcr-structt~rc. The beginning of the
good lift ii to try as far u possible to sec the i itU3tion as it re-.illy if:. 11
i$ unwi$e-to assume tlut ;ambipait;. iodetenniu11cy, uud~.:.lduhiJj ty ure
379
 alway; subw.-ni,•e soUcs ag;lii\Sf an anogandy monolog:kJ) terrirude:
on the contnry, lhey are the stod:-ir.·tr-adc: of many ·a juridical
t:f~t~ui:r) atttJ off1ciul in~ t:Slig.atioo, Tlu: J)o\lticiuu di:>daill "'·hicl1 lht
Literary m ind has always evinecd fer such prosaic phenomena as the
f<~~ciS is not oot<~~bty oootc penuasi\·e once it is ebborated iuto :a
suphf:.:lit~ lr:d t~xf ual thoury. ( }ru:c: U!{<lin, theu, the Jlulifit'lo 11f the
inttrTogation or truth arc C\'Ctoy bit as ambiYslcnt as the sutus of ll'\lth
it!it:lf within OW' ,_t...:it:tit.'S. If truth J~ll!i supn:tne wid tin tltt: (..-ulturJ.I
an d $~'fl1holic nrdc.':T. iT ;3 dispc:nsahlc ~~nrm gh in thr: marlct r plac:c: and
political forum.
PostlllOdernism has been cquaUy cont.c:rnc:d to d is.:rcdtt the
concept of tot:~ lizy~ and t111s vnhmNy c hallf! ngeri the '':ui(•us idi!Jtlist
and rmndalisr \'ersions of lhis n01jon wbkh, in M~rxism and
elsewhere! ba·vc loog bc:eu oo offer. It is always difficult, however, 10
tnow quite how iar !his dismantling of'1o~li~rttion shl)uld be wbn. It
is possible to argue, for example, th.u a phiiDSopher lite ,\ 1ichcl
f'ov caull r~mui.ns <:apt.it:r h"J ;a rigorou..:.ly IOLialil.ing impulse, wl!atevt:-s
his cdchrJtrion ••fhcrcroecnc:ity .•uuJ pJurali!y. Fcn~t:au h wnvld BJlflC11'
l<l betitH that there exist total sys1cms known u 'prisons~, as though
sum•~ umu1ry f!nriry c:nrre~•pnn ded ru l h ~ :.tp))d):tJju u ' D:u1mour'. Rut
what is <DanmOOt' (ltbr.r than a dcccouc.·f.l 11Sscml:lbgc of this or th3t
ceU, 1Va11ier, discipli:1ary ttthnique, b)l)<>dcnnic S)•ringt ~ Why this
re:mt)rsel~o;s nrgt: t (l hmnvg,:ni:-:1!' rhl$c: tliff•.s•:, p:trtit:ul:n re:~ l itl t'i in :t
singular toncepc~ :\ n cff'on 10 elude any su<'b totalizing metaph~ic;
of tbc 'prison' wo.dd carry, of cmu'5t. d1stinctirc: J.K.*tjC'2J implic2tic:lns.
'llu:n: t.:u ukJ, ll1r t')lli U!)Ir, he uu uriefltirag (mt:sd( ut(.tiCOIJI)· lo tlu:: su-
t alled 'toul institution' - no d(bating with t~ ~v~mor about t~
'priso11 regime'. nooonn·astin~ of one typt of'prison' witb another, no
tn:nni-osihlc statt:mc=nt ~•:hit:h dc:-.i:.tnaletl the 1n isouu:-a as a t:ulleclive
body. Such toulizi11g woWd be: no more ths.n an im·crtt.-d r('lft'<'1jon of
the n:l~a11k:ss boliJogtlli:ti:ags o( the rulitlg order. if it "''CfC possiblt to
~e-u.k. c'l( a 'ruling urdtl'', wllid1 it is ~aot. :\ g~Jluine mic.rovoliria of
the (lf'i~n woold he in eo.·ery sense cellular.
It is ai"Wa\'S possible, in Of.hc·r WOfdS, lO s.tumble 11(;1'065 :~ morP.
fervent nominalist d'l:ln onesdt Por .1U those who fed thai th(" hltlllan
body 1S oo mort th;tn a disarticui:Lt<d ensemble: of this or thai organ,
dw,re is afw«ys ~rnennr. else who fc:cls JUSt l.ht: s:unc w:ty :tbout lla~
<'On C(pt ()( o rgan. h i; :.s though :lO)' thr~on~h t <::an h1~ made: tn af)pt~a r
as an illicit totdzation fr0111 the standpoinl uf;;omc o1hcr, and so on
 FaOM THE POLIS TO POSTMODERN!SM

iD • potentially infinite regress. Whare•'<:r the arxumcm O>'l:r 'I01.1lity'

is about, it SUl"<!ly cannot be obourrhis. The suppostd discrediting of
lhis idea is, histori<11lly >1'eoling. deeply ironic. For it springs from
just thar recent political period •bout which it would be highly
plau.~ible to contend that the sy.~tem which radicals oppose has never,
for a long time, shown itself quile as ur•l - where lllc capillary
connections ber-·een economic crisis, national liberation struggle, rhe
resurgence of proto-&.scist ideologies, !he ligh1ening hold of !he
sutc, have never been qllltc. so p01lpablc. It Is ar just this historical
moment> when it is clear 1hat whott we confront is indeed in some
sense a 'total ")'item', and is :IOOICtimcs recognized as such by its own
rulers, that elemerns of llle political left begin m speak of plurality,
multiplicity, schizoid circuits, microstrategies and the rest
There are, perhaps, rwo major reasons for this thcon:tical mcr;e,
one rather mort creditable than the other. The more creditable
reason is that many of the concepls of totality tntdilionally to hand arc
indeed objectionably homogenizing and csscntiallstic, superiorly
excluding a range of crucial pnlirical siTUggles which !hey have
decided, for one reason or another, can hardly be regarded as
' central'. The undennii>ing of rhis version of totality is thus an urgent
political task. The less creditable reason for U.~ shifi is !hat, some
twenty years ago, the political left discovered to its dismay that the
system was cum:ntly too powerful, too tota~ m be broken. One
consequence of this &foomy J'C\'elation is what is now known as post-
Marxism- o name which one takes to designate lllose who have come
right through Mamsm and out s<>mewbere the other sid<:, rather than
those middle-class ~berals who, having "'mained e>a•1ly ••here !hey
ah.-ays were, now suddenly lind themselves ralhcr In fashion. Post-
Marxism and poto;lmOdemisn> are by no me:IJlS l"e!ipl)nses to • system
which has c...:d up, disarticulaled, pluralized il> opaations, but to
precisely the opposite: to a power-structure which, being in a sense
more '1otal' than ever, is capoble for the moment of disarming and
demoralizing many of its antagonists. In ~-uch a >ituation, it is
&OI'IICtimu comforting and con,·enient ro iaugine !Mt ·mere is not
artu al~ as Foucault might hove said, anything 'total' to be broten. It
is as though. lurvintr ternponrily mislaid the breadlmife, one declares
the loafm be alrudy sHced. The term 'post', if it hu any meaning at
aD, me41\s bliSiness as usual, only mDTt so.

.181
 Aesthetics, ai we have seen~ arises in part as a fQ-ponsc to a new
situation in early bourgoois soclcly, in which mucs now appear to be
abrmingly, mystetinu.d y unclerivable. Oru:e the aelualities of social
life suffer reification, tltey would no longer seem tv offer an adequate
starting-point for discouncs of value, which accordingly lloat loose
into their own idealist space. Value must now either be self-
grounding, or fouocled in intuition; and the aesthetic, as we have
seen, ~n·es a.s a model for both of these strategies. Spl'tlllg from
some affecliw. or rn<tlphysieal space, .aims con no k>nger be
submitted to rational enquiry •nd argumentation; it is difficult now,
for clCilllplc, to "Y of my dcaira that they are 'unreasonable', ill the
<ense, perhaps, of illicidy impeding the ju.sr clesires of others.
It is this aeslheticization of value l.bat ha.s been inherited by the
contemporary currclllS of posunoclemism and post•sttucturallsm.
The result of this is a new kind of l:roln!«nclentllism, in which
desires, be~efs and interests now occupy ju>1 those a p.Wri locations
which W«rc traditionally reserYed for World Spirit or the absolute
eg<>. !\ characteristic formulation of the case cun he fomtd in this
COD1IIII<nt by Tony Bmnett: 'it seems to me that socialism can c:xaicatc
itself from tht min: of an episremologicol and ethical relativism on]y
by means of a political desire whlch functions as cause and
justifu:otion of itself (although it is, of course, produced by and within
the complex play of socilll forces ond relationships)'.' Bennett's self·
cousing, self·valldating potidcal desire is not far rem011ed front
Kantian pr.acticaJ reas<>n, or indeed from Spinn~.an Nature. This
notion of a self-generative, self-legitimating force is in essence
aesthetic and theclogical Such a theory takes as irs absolute ba.<eline
certain irreducible. ratinnaDy uncon.re.~table in1peratives, and tbco
allows the cognitive a purely insmmtenw space of manoeuvre within
this apriorlstic field. To this extent, for all irs protests against
F.nlightenment, it shares the problematic of a Hobbes or Humc, for
whum r<a>un is the •low of pa>>ioo. lntcn:stS and desires operate ill
effect if not ln admission as quui-transeendental anreriorities; there
can be no asking frnm whence they cleme, or under what
cin:umstau~s one would be prepared to lay them down, for such
values, whatever their origin ln social interaction, arc as radically
given as the human body. De.9re, belief and commitmen~ os with the
Sophists' reductioo of them to 'nature', are simply witlulnwn from
the process of rational justification, as that which one can never get

382
 FaOM TiiE 1'(}1,/$ TO POSThiOI>t:KNIS.\1

behind. Th.is case sub5<.'ribes implicidy to a reified, instrumentalized

version of rationality, as Vmtaod rathe1' than Vmnmfi, 111d dten
understandably wishes to disen~"'ge , ......., from this inhl!rendy
degraded medium. On the one hand tht-n: is a rtabn of lifeless,
discrete fucts, quite bereft of structure; on the other hand mere arc
the arbitrary, IX'!IIIpeting volue-p•rspectives nf a plethora of subjects,
each perspoctive absolutely sclf-scalcd and self-grounded. It is not
diffi<:ult to see how weD this (anti-)cpistemolog)' tallies with the
conditions of bourgeois sociely, even in its radical varieties. 1Dere is
either a realm of free-floating wines, a market place wirhin which the
erhlc.al consumer makes his or her free choice, or our culture has
alway. already in 5Cimc sense chosen for us. The former position
belongs wilh the old-fashioned decisionlsm of an R.M. Hare; the
Iatter case. as in the varieties of American neo-pr:agmatism,
complaceruly consecrates the given culture, protecting it WJdcr the
guise of a 'radic.t' or faintly scand.3lous anti-foundationallsm from
fundamental critique. 1De reactionary nature of Ibis position is made
explicit in the genial, dubbish, laid-back, end-of-ideologies ideology
of a Richard Rorty, whose summte, so lhe O;rfm English DiltWl!dfy
informs us, means 'fond of am\IS<.'ment and excitement'. It is as plain,
though less condldly acknowledged, in me work of a Stanley Fish,
wid• his phollocentric horror of ambiguily and indeterminacy. We an:
offered the alu:maliv!!$, as with Hayden W"hite, of old-s!yle decision·
ism or existentialism,J or, a$ \\ith f'ish, of a m.oniBtic: cultural
determinism as d<"'oted to the defence of the Free Worfd as the
Penhing missile. The weakness of Ibis ca>c is its failure to worry
political radicals unduly. If neo-pragnutists, for meir 0'111'11 peculiar
p111p0ses, wish to chlll'lK'Ierize such actions as the sO<.inliz.trion of
industry and the dlsmantllng of NATO as merely 'carrying on the
conversation', behaving in a rule-bound fashion or being ineluctably
eonstnlned by a belief-system, then mete is no reason why radicals
•hoold protest too vigorously •galnst lhese desoiptioos u long u
they are allowed to do what they wisb to do. As long as such beUefs, in
good pragmatist fashion, make a difference to the world, these
theon:dcal descripeions of them need not prOYC particularly alarming.
The phenomenon of post-Marxi.~m thi'DWS so~ interesting light
on the issues • t stake here. The origi(llllity of Mane and Eng<els's
political lhougbt, as Marx himself oncx: commemcd, lay not in the
discovery of die existence of soci21 classes, which had long been
383
 knuwn, hut 1n ri1e daim dl:n :m infemal rdouion could be dlscemcd
bef\\·een the s~ b-cr-'«n suth <.iuscs and m, stag< of
~-elopment or~ mode of production. T he \UJ!Id of huul:ln ht::IW!(<;
an~ ,·aJ uc~. anti lhc nahlfC: nf material 1u:tivi1)'. were t.h.us boond
clo&cly together. The notorious ecvoom.ism of tht S econd ln~­
Lional tr:hel>Lit" thi..,: t.lutlrinr: by n:tlut:ing da~<: CIJnfl:kr ro • hmc.:tion
of r.r.nn{lmic cmh1rion; and }uunanistic: Marxism tlen 0\'e rrcacu to
this roductionisrn. &tal:ing all on con6(iOU$DC"SS and the class subjt:tl.
It is, iruni(':ll ly~ the rt:oohuely anri·humanisl theory ot the Althus-
scri:an school which consummates lhl., disSe\'cring of class struggle
and mode of prodll'Ction, io its tfreGti\'e abazllkmut~nl uf tlu: d:t.•>!>i\..":11
Murxisl d•K.1rinc u( ..:unlr11dic..1ion bc:tw..:•;n rhc forces ;mel relations of
production. Class strUggle becomes a wholly conjunctural m3ttcr, :.1
q ut!.tion t)f slnl:tel).it: \::>kufaJiur1; and lhl.'> Jllll>ition retleccs the covert
mnocnoc of Maoism, with ia: highly \'Oh.IJltaristic t mpha$is upon
'polilics' u against 1tc()OOmi.cs'." It then prO\o'e5 a snaU step r.-om d)is
fW.I!,.;tion ro 1he posc-AJtbusstrWt j~;tdso ning of the whoie concc-p( of
'mode ofpK!duction1,1ca"ing d~ss srrug@'lc hangiQg in the oUr; jJld for
liOtne e!'SIWhik pC...l·Aidtu~t:J'iaus :tl k::t.'itt it is du::u unl~ :mulhcr siL'fl
tn l hc; cR(:t.'li\'C n:iecrir.m tJf d1c centrality of clus oonOkt, and th\t; ()(
.\tanism itself.
Let US !urn flU\\' tO IWU pn~1-$101Ctu mJ:i:r:t lt:US which ce nt~ upo n
the probkm of clhks. The 6rsl is j\.lk'bd fouca uh)s Tlu Uti' ~­
~ rt, volume two or his fliStlfJ' l1/ Seu;Q{it.f; the s-:cond is Je.t.n-
F'raDQniS Lymard'-; philnsnphical dialogue wirhj ean ~ J .llUf) ' l'h~OOud,
J•st Gami"t· T here: is a curious fcarure about the writing of ,\ 1tdtcl
Foucaullth::a 11ewraJ cuuu:u~:ut;,LINS b:t\t: JJ(Jtctll and whilil is :.1 one
lc~d a qncstir)n ofstyle. ~·011.u::a nlt hahituall)· wri(l.:!o) ufop()ressivc:. «~n
horrendous practices and institution.s: with a carefully eakulilted
dinir.:nl nt:UIT21ity, whidt h1-. rw:n :~.ur•.tclt:d the cpithl!l 'pn.~ nivi._,'
&M\ Jttr~ Habemus.' fooca ub 11 nyk is strupulot•sly non-
judgcmenta~ his oomm<ntarie< P\lf1Cd of the lea>1 bU>t of n0111la0vi~·.
1l1is slyllbtlc naudc ~~ not far at Lim~:~ frura a t"~rla i n ptm::rsc
eroric;ism, as r:h~ mosr .o:r.:ns:nitmal matL"fi:tts- the tnnure ui a human
bod)·, for cxampk- arc rn(di.ltcd through ~ disunccd. disp~ssiont~tc
tone, a measured, mandarin f rench serene!)· unruffied by its own
shuc.:.ting cnnll:nL'i. Pressed to an extn:me, liucb a l:ouJlaliun u f
d inidsm and ~n'iarinnalism is 1he stuff nf pumngrllphy, ...·hich is nut
to suggest that Foucault's own wri1ing is pooroographic. There may
384
 PllOM THE 1'0£/S TO POSTMODERNIS.\1

well be in this scyle an element of miscbie\'Ous parody, a uumping of

the ..:holars on their own terrain, a cool adaptation of their own
bloodle.u discourse to entircly opposite poll deal ends; but il: is surely
also the stylistic index of a genuine contradiction at the JteMto( past·
strumtralist thougbl We know &um Fuucauh's politie11l writiogs that
his response to the oppressive regimes be records so impassively Is
one· oi a ndicol, impbt..ble refusal; but the question is one of the
position from which such a refusal is to be laun<:hcd. Foucault's
Niet7~anism forbids him any universal or ttallSQendenral stand·
point of etbico-politicol judS"ment on the hiSlory he exrunines; yet as
a ndical polilical aclivist he is clearly unable to abandon iudJtlllcnt
altoS"ther. His style, which refrnins from expUclt judgement but in a
way so marked that this VCl)l silence itself becomes eloquent, that the
very lack of moral comment becomes a comment all of its own, is then
ttn uttempt to negotiate Ibis d~enunn. Any post-S1t'Ucturalist theory
which desires to be in some sense political is bound to lind itself
caught on the hop betwun the norma!Mty which such politlca entail,
and its ~n full-blooded cultur•l relativism. One can trnce a similar
tension in some contemporary feminist writing, which occasionally
s..,ms to argue with the one breath that uulh does not exist, and with
the next that men oppress women. This coulli<.'l between cultuml
relativiJm and the demands of normative morol judgement comes
to a head over the question of oppressive parriarchal pmctices
such as foot-binding ()r clitoridectomy, which have the sanction of
ogc-nld culrural tr:>dirion•. l'he necessary and proper universalism
of the judgement tloat the oppression of women in any form Is
always morally wrong, and that no appeol to cultural tradition can
con.'llitute a defence of such conduct, runs into headlong cortllict with
a cultural relativism which is reluctmttu appear 'ethnocentric' in its
outlook. We should seck to understand the headhunters, DO( to
chan!!" them.
Foucault bas, in fAct, a kind of solulion to Ibis problem. It is not
th2t any panicular historical regime is bener or worse than any other-
though os we shall see he sometimes impli« such a distincrioo. What
is objectionable is rqim< as such. What is insupportable is the whole
notion that human Ufc should be normalized, regulated, institutional-
ized. Such a situation is offensive to fo•ocault's extreme nominalism,
which woukl reg.rd tl•e very categorii<iog involved in the oct of
naming as a violarion of unique speci1iclty. 'for Foucault', as Peter

385
 Dew$ commems, 'the mere fact or becomiag an object ort.nowledgc
represents 3 kind of enslovement.'"
But this claim needs ill$llllllly to be quaUfied. For Foucault is not of
course as naive as to believe for a moment !hat human life could ever
be •nything olher tlwt institlltionallife, or proceed by •nything other
tlwt pankular disciplines and techniques. If he is in one sense a
tibenariaD, he is not at aU in another: in CODIIIIOO with many other
post-structur3lists, he is deeply sceplical of the utopian dream that
beterogeneily could eVI!r be completely released from the categories
and institutions, the fonns of discursive and non·discwsil'c domesr·
ication, "'ilich alone lend it social embodiment. We can ~·er escape
Low, rcgimenralion, the prison house of the metaphysical; but this
does not stop one fantasizing for a moment (a moment usually
resc:rved fM one's more 'poetic' teAtS) of some ~tic moment in
which all this might come to end, finding proleptic ll'llces of such a
revolution in avant-garde literary works. It is hard to criticize
particular institlltion5 without dreaming for a giddy moment of what it
might be lilce to be emancipated from inSiiMionalily altogether.
Foucault is in one sense a sort of anarchist; but he does not believe in
that aoarchim1 fM a moment, for it could never possibly come about,
and it would be The height of romantic libertarian folly to imagine ihat
it could. This ambivalcn<-.: th<:n allows him to combine, in a manner
typical of mudl post-stn!cturalism, a kind of seet<!t apoeai}'Ptic uln-
\efri<m wirh • dry-eyed, pl':lgm:nic political reformi<rn. h protects hi.m
at once from the re-actionary and the romantic - the latter being a -.icc
to ""bieh French inrcllectuals, one mlglu cUlm, arc pecuUarly aUei'Jic,
preferring oo the whole to be thought wicked rather than gullible. A
form .,r absolute moral (Xlsition is pre<erved - the secret refusal of
regime as such- which then allows Foucauh 10 dissociate himself in a
grand))· panoramic ge<lure from every social formaJit>n to date; but
since what is oojecrionable about these formarions is essentiaDy the
fact that they arc formations, rather than the parliculat values they
embody, a kind e>f knowing, sophisticated relarivi•m may •ccordingly
be 111;1intained, and one is absolved from the need to nwk< expli<'it the
values in who>< name one's critique is deployed. 'To imagine anolher
system', FOU<aUlt commenrs, ' is to extend our participation iD the
pment syste.m." It is system itself, in • purely form:ilislic polilics,
wbicb is the enemy; but this enemy is quite ineluctable., and like the
poor will always be with us. Such a viewpoint dangerous!)' elides !he
386
 FROM THE POLIS TO POSTMOOEaNISM

distinctions between, s:>y, r.,.cistic and liber2l capit:ilist forms of

sociecy; the latter, for Foucault as much as for the late Frankfun
school, would <Ometimes seem as terroristic as the former. (A simibr
elision is effected by FouCilult's mentor Althusser, whose concept of
'Ideological state apparatuses' refuses as purely lcplistlc the \ita!
difference between state-conttolled and non-state Ideological
institulio11S .)
Foucault's work, then, represents a kind of negali\-e or inverted
ultru-leflism, in which a resolute revolutionary neg:nion is at once
dung to and dUowncd. The dream of liberty must be cherished, but
this impulse ha.< fallen, histflrkally speaking, on hard times, and
causti<:ally n:fu..:s the possibility of its own realization. To th4 extent
Fouault, :along with Jacques Derrida, is extmp!My of an ideology
now dominant among a certain sector of the Wes1ern rndicol
intel!ig<ntsia: libertarian pessimism. The oxymoron is instructive:
libertuiatl, because something of the old expression/repression
mudellingers on in the drum of an entirely free-Ooaling signifier, an
infinire textual productivity, an emtence blessedly free from the
shad<Jes of truth, meaning and sociality. p.,_<imistic, becau.<e
whatever blocb such creativity - law, meaning, power, closure - is
aclrnclwledged to be built Into It, in a sceptical recogrtidon of the
imbrication of authority and desire, madness and metaphysics, which
sprinss from a paradigm quite other than the expression/repression
nuxlel Both models are at work in pot<t-strueturalist thought,
generating some ootable inrerrud tensions. Charles Taylor has
pointed out that though Fnuault wishes to discredit the very Mrion
of a liberation from power, his own concept ofpower does not in fact
make sense v.idlout the idea of such Ubcration."
One might traC<! this opori2 within post-structunlist writing in a
rather different way, in a kind of running conllict lx:twecn it>
'epistemoiOCY' and its 'ethics'- both, of course, deeply suspect terms
for the pr:>ctitioners of the discourse themselves. The (•nti-)
epistemology uf poS1-structunilism focuses rreiUJ'Cnlly on impasse,
failure, error, mi»ing the mark, not quite-ness, to the poilu where an
in..~istence that something in a rext doe.<~~; not quite oome. off. has always
aJr.,ady failed, is even now not quite f•ilio~; tu deoiate from wilat it
DC\"er exactly already v.-.s, has lwdened into the sheerest comentlorul
gesture. PMt-structuralism shares an underdog suspicion of the
~'UCcess ethic, which lends it a radical flavour. But this assault on an

387
arrogant metophysical self-identity is made, often enough, in the
name of a freeing of forces which seem in Nie12Scllean fashion to
acknowledge no such humble hesiwlcy, powers whk:h insist on !heir
own sweet way, which dance "ithout srumb~ng und laugh without •
catch in the breath. Scepcical and Ubenarian moments are once more
curiously conjoined, in an amphibious so:nsibility which owes much 10
a mixing of soixtml<- hwil ecslllsy with th•t histuricttl moment's more
disenchanted aftermath.
Part of Foucauh's objection to the shackling of madness, in his
early M411nas am/ Cit!ilisariM, is an aesthcdc one: the disciplines
which regulate madness rob it of its drama and sublimity." His later
pn:o<<'llpalion with puwer •lso places him finnly in tho aestholici.xing
rradioon; for power in .f'oucault's work lw much in common ,.;th the
clwica.l aesthetic artefact, self-grounding, self-generative and self-
delighting, without origin or end, an clusr•c bknding of governance
and pleasure which is thus a kind of subject an in ilself, however
subje<..tkss it lilli)' otherwise be. .Indeed Foucault (-an "'en be
entranced by the rnganidsm of this splendid aesthedc construct, as
when he comments on p"""'r os 'an extremely complex system of
relations, which !..dds one finally 10 wunder how, gi•·en that rw on•
person can have conceived it in ill entirety, it can be so subtle in its
distribution, its JMchanisms, reciprocal controls and adjustments'."
The stance is that of a Victorian. agnostic contemplating some
disturbing evidence of design in the universe. How C2D such a
marvellously unified artefacr luve arisen without an •nificerl Sucll
organicism is not of course typical of post-structuralism, ..iill;h Lends
to refrie\·e the ludic, pleasurable aspects of the aesthedc while
rejec'ting its OJglmicist modfs for plur.ility, dispetsaland indo!temlinacy.
But an aesthetic gratificalion in the modons of power is in fact one of
the more disturbing facets of Foucault's work. It L' coupled with the
insinuation one can somedmes. detect in his writing, when he is
COilSidcring lhe brutal viokncc of the a•tims rigimts, that such
violence i' in some way morally preferable to the pacified, tabulated,
tnln$parent subject of lhe humanist epoch. The honor of the old
asylums, writes ian Hacking, 'w:as ooc worse than the solemn
destrucrion of the mad by committees of experts with their co115ta0tly
changing mao\Jal~ of nostrums'." The irresponsibility of Sllclt a view -
symptomadc, perhaps, of the romantic prirnltMsm of the so:If-

388
 FROM THE I'OUS TO POSTMODERNISM

castigating intellcci\UI - is at one with Foucault's uccl&$ional

dangerous inclination tOW'.uds absolutist coercion as again.<t F.ntight-
enment hegemony. Foucsult crinces 1 well-nigb p11thological•ser.iion to
the whole category of the &Ubject, one considerably more negative
than tluot manifested b)· Nieu.sche himself. In his drastically
undialectical attitude to Enlightenment, be eradicates at a strOke
almost all of its vital civilizing :u:hievemenrs, in which he can ste
nothing but insidious techniques of subjC(;bOn. His view of self-
identity is monotonously self-identical. II is therefore ironic thai, late
in his life, he began to disco-.or that tl>e Enlightenment w:as not •a
unrestrvedly monstrous after all, denying wt he WliS a counter-
Enlightenment thinker in the sense of one who denied that we did not
still in lazge part depend upon it."
Jt ~ nn~ natur:alJ!, that Foucault C\'er celebntes the horrors of
feuolalist absolutism; but it is worth noting that his latent prefennce
for a power which is l!'idcnt ratlxr than covert fonns the basis of his
bter disctls5ions of this topic. The early Foucault of Muneu and
CR;ilisatwn, as be himself was later to ..:knowledge, stn.J operates to
some degre.: with the 'repremon' thesis, dreaming of a wild, mute,
essentially healthy nwlness whicb given a chance might inrupt
lbrougb oppressive praclices and speak in its own tongue, The L•ter
Foucault's insistence on the productivity of power, and on the falsity
of the repression thesis, then consrirures ao overreaction to hl• 0\\'11
eartier romantieiJm. If pow•.,. was initiaUy portnyed in too negative •
style, il' is now grasped a.< rather too positive. The ttuth that power
does indeed reJJftS:S as. weU :;as toable, that it is ind~d at rime.'>
centralized and 'intentional' as w.:n as diffus<d and •ubiectless, that
then are conspiracies as weD as stlf-regu!ative stntcgies, is nu:rel)'
erased, in • mooi.stic vision ironically typical of this devotee of
plurality and heterogeneity. Absolutist power is opposed for its
desp01ic centralism, but somerime.s surreptitiou.•ly promoted in its
relative openness, physicality and non-subjectivizinl!" O'o·er the bege·
monic epoch of l\hn, when, as Fouuult writes, 'the Jaws of the srate
•nd the laws of the heart are ot bst identical'." Power is at its best,
then, when it is neither ocntralizins nor hegemonic, and it is to this
view of an 'authentic' power wt f"oucault will finally come through.
TIUs, indeed, is cbssicaUy Ni;,tzschean in its tripartite scenario: from
brute coercion, to imidious ht'gCIIIony, to 1 power rescued at mce

38,9
 from despotism and interiority and awlauded as self-causing oud
self~. Li1:e the aesthelic anc&ct, power Is non-it>sb'Umental,
non-releological, alltonomous and •elf-referential.
This aeslhelics of power. however. is to s<imc extent in tonflict with
Foul.'llult's radical politics. For it is as if the concept of power in the
Foucault ofsuch works as Disaplim 11Nl Punish is being m•de to serve
simultaneously two somewhat incompatible puiJKiscs. In so far as
power remains pol!tieally oppressive, it must call forth refusal and
resistance; in !m &r at; it is aestheticlud, il aces as the medium of a
pleasurable expansion and produ,1ivity of capacities. The claim th2t
power is 'produc:tive' is ombiguous In this respect: this prodw:mity is
in one sense oppre$Sh·e, generatinr; e~r more refined techniques of
subjection and surveillance, but there Is also an unsvoidable
sugzestioo th2t it is productive in a rather more positive or creative
strut· tOO, a triumphant Nie12.schean growth, unfolding and prolifena-
tion. The thesis that power is aU-pervasive is thus more pcssimlsdc
from the poUtical standpoint than it is from the aesthetic nne.
Foucault's whole attitude to power thus carries with it a profound
ambivalence. which reOeciS his attempt to combine NlctUche with a
radical or even revolulioo:uy politics. And this ambivalence cannot
simply be resolved by pitting ooe of these modalities of power against
the other, the aeslh<:ti< or '-n:ative against lhc vppr<ssivcly politic:al,
for this would simply land u.• back in a venicm of the expression/
repre56ion doctrine. Power which politk:tlly oppresses is also
'acslhctic' in its v.:ry eJSence. wholly wrapped up in its own self-
cnj D}'It\CDt and self-expansiveness.
11•is ustheticized model of power allows Foucault to distance
himself at once from coercion and hogcmany, as in<ked is the case
with Nle!Uebc himself. One mock of the aeslhctic - the self-
generative pleasures ofpower - is opposed to another: the hegemonic
inuojcctiou of the law. This manoeuvre permits Foucault to oppose
oppressiveness wlthoutlosfn$ grip an power' s posithity, and without
invoking a subject in whose 1l4Jile this opposition is executed. It is
possiblc,ln short, to have the best of both worlds: • power which Ius
the positivity of the att<Mt rigime, having not been passed ~ugh the
hypocri.•es of hegeiJI<lny, and yet which- a.• in the era of hegemony -
bcks th21 regime's more offensive cruelty. The arbirrarincss of
amolutist """·er Is prC!Ierred, but now displ:u:ed from the whlrmical

390
 fllOM THE POIJS TO POSTMODEI\NIS.\1

dikuts of the monarch to the gratuitous fiuctu.oUOJIS uf a nun-

subjccm·e field of force.
In the late writings. or Foucault, the theme of a.esrheticb...1ti.on
cxp~cidy emerge'S. To &oc well is 11.> transfigure onr:sdf into a work of
art by an intensive process of self-discipline. 'Modem nun, for
B3ude13ire', Foue3ult writes, 1is not the m:ln who goes olf to discover
himself, his secrets and his bidden truth: he is the IIllO who tries to
invent himself. This modernity does not "liberate nun in hi~ own
being"; it compels him to face the task of producing 1Jims<,lf.'16 This
aesahetk: working upon oneself is a son of self-hegemony; but it
differ< from humanistic hegemony, as in Nierzsche, in that it allows
one to give the law to uncsc!f, ralher than come meekly under the
,..._y of a hereronoln(lu< decree. This, indeed, i! the project of 11rt
Uu of PkantTt , in which Foucaull is lionlly nble to till one of the
gaping voids in his wort- rbe question of cdlics- with an acsrbelic
alternative tn humani-;t morality. In antiquity, nne can supposedly
uncover a mornlily which is more oriented to 'practices of the self', in
rbe sense of an aesthetic production of the self that 'answers to
criteria of brilliance, beauty. nobility, or perfection'." than to
universal codes of conduct in the ]udaeo-Chrislian manner. The
ethical ideal is one of an ascetic, dispaulooate mastery over one's
pm1o-cr<, 'a mode of being which could be defi.ned by the full
enjoyment of oneself, or the perfect >11prcnw:y of Wl<><:lf over onaclf'
(p. 31). This position thn< combines the beSI of coercion-to produce
oneself invol,·es a tuing, punitive discipline - v.ith the best of
hegemony: the subject bas the autonomy of the hegemonic subject,
but now in a more radically authentic manner. Aesthetic self-
prucluctioo is o question of explicit power, not of that rreocherous
dissembling of power which Is hegemony; but since this power Is
directed upon onesdf it can.oot be oppressive, and so is distanced
from the epoch of coercion too.
With many judicious qualifications, Foucault equates Christianily
with the dominance of a fiud unlvei"Sill code, and the ancient wodd
with • more conjunctur:illy \Mable kind of conduct. The abstract
code remains, but there is a looser, more O<Jdble relation between it
and the particular practices h Ucensc:s, whJch.canoot be seen a.< m=
obedient in.staoriations of this general decree. There is a degree of
free play between norm and practice, or berwecn wllat Althosscr

391
 would term •fheQrc:ticaJ' and 'practical' idc~!ogits.. The tynnny of the
Wli\'ers:al law i.s theretJ:t te.re1:tteeJ : tlu! aocient Gr~ls, Pot.IC'.Iult
argue>, did nm o;cek 10 intmdut.T. a cndc nf L'tmdun binding npon
C\'Cryonc, <llld ihu.J were absoh.cd from the coos1raints of humanist
hq;t:eeUJU)';

For them.• ret1tction on t txual btha,riour as a moral

d om:un \li:ts nor a mr.ans. nf intf' m:tlii'i•ng, t~tif~·in g, or
iOI'r'Oalising general intctdicdons impo$('<1 on C\'tryone;
r.lthcr~ it w;~s ll means of developing - from tbe Slu:a lk~t
miuleriL~· ul tht: J1HJ'm lati\•n, math: Uf' t'll lrt:t: 1 allult malt:s -
an 2C$dlctk:s orc,,·istet~cc, the pul'pOjefu! arr of 3 freedom
ptr\:Ci\ocd as ~ pli'Wt:r g:u ue. (J'r•.
252-.~).

fou c.:~ ult

can thu! rtdefm-e the rebOOns between l:aw and pleasure,
univers:1l :md (l:lnit:ul:lr: thr.re i:l: h ~u: nn n :.i\·~: lib~r:uinms t \'\Sinn nf :1
simple relinquishing of d"'" law, btu the individual parri(lll<'lr is now
rather mort oblique to it. The mighty a~thetic m~anism ofh:.. m::.!'list
htgeumny, in ""hich all tJe ~ oomponeall J):lJ1l! ll(t: ruled umJ iethmncll
by a singular principle, gi\'CS ground to :a mu?ci1udc ()(fink individLW.
anef;~c ts) U(h of them rd;alhu!l}' ;au tonomo~ am.t sd f-detennining.
v:lu:rc wtuu matters is stylt: anti tt:r.Rr:r., lhl: n~l:ui•m-.;hip \\hit.-h an
indi\·idual COlli!UCfS with hjmsclf in o1 form irreducible to 3 iCilCr.ll
uni11erS:&I mmld.
Th~ i<len ofh egem.ooy, 1hen. is ret<'ined) hm t11rned i.ntt~An imernal
rebrionship ht-""·een pari.S llf the M-1!: T he indi,•idua.l ml1St construct
a relation \\'ilh the ~etf thoat is (J flt of 'do!ninatio:\-subn\issJOO>,
'command-o.b<.-<lic·n((". 'masfel)·- d,Jcilit'/ (p. 70). Fo uc:m h ;., rims
able to combine the concept of lcdividual :mtonomy, which stands
n::lati\·dy frt:c: of tJ)~ l o:~w~ wide t h~: pkasun::-. of suJo-m<l&•.tdLiStiC
pOwer su(il a Jtl~,~,· in,·oh't S. Whar is gr.tif\ing Md pn>du<'li \'~ about
powrr, its discipline and dominati\·encs.-s, ls !!i.lh':!.~d fr<lm p<)litkal
oppreSSI\'Cness ;;;nd ins-talled within the $C1f. In dus w:~y one can rnjo)·
dee )!aiu."i of ht'gem Vfl) wilhOtH denying d 1e pl~":.u r~$ of Jtf.l'tf<'r. O:ue
migb{ quesrion, hOWPVP.r. tlow f:~ r thi~ mn('l~l l'(,nll~· ::~ 11/'.lW!' Fm 1c::~ ull 10
e$C'a.pe from lhe fute"s of tr.ldfrion:ll hcgtmony. f'0r the moral h(f(mony
of the epo<:h of Man, a$ 1:'\ietz:scbc rec~gnizcd , s ure~ entails a kind()(
pr:u:tk(' upnn th~ st:lf, \~ hid! N lt'~L·Itc in f:et.1 much sd1mrcd. Sut:h
hc:trt mc,ny doc:t> unr t:mru• abm1 .'irumtam:nm:h·. wh}umr ;; dcJ~Tcc 11f
 FROM THE 1'0/.JS TO POSTMOOERNtSM

self-labour; and it is only by implicitly caricaruring it as a passive,

dode recc:ptrlity to law that Foucault can effectn·ely counterpose it to
the ancient ethic he is approving. The two conditions indeed diffeT",
since in the case ar ancient ~oci~ty there is. we are cold, no singk
monolithic law to be introjcc1l't1; but the activity invo'-cd in that kind
of hegemony, and in the self-hegemony oft:he ancic:m Greeks, arc nor
perhaps os anritloetical :>s Fo..cault would seem to consider. Indeed
he actuaUy quotes Plato's comments on the homology bctwtcn this
scyle of self-governance, which l'oucault himself clearly endorses,
and the irnperntive of maintaining the polis, which he clearly does not
endorse. 'The ethics of pleasure', Foucault writes, 'is of the same
order of reolity as the political structure'; 'if the indhidual is lil<e the
city', commentS Plato, 'the same struC1urc must prevail in him'
(p. 71). Foucault goes on to emphasize that the..., two form• of
prnctice - gov·erning oneself ami goven1illg others - will gr•dually
separate out: 'The rime would come when the art of the self would
a&SUme its own shape, distinct from the ethical conduct that was its
obje<'tive' (p. 77). Bur it nevertheless remaills an embarrassment that
the aesthctk:ization of !he self whlcb he so strongly recouunends
should take its origin from the nee<lto sustain the political authority
of a slave-based society.
A< with N'>et7-«he, Foucaul t's vigorously self-no:lstering individual
remains whoUy monadic. Society is just an assc:mbla(C of autonomous
self-disciptining agents, \\itb no sense tharlheir self-realization might
Onurisb within bonds of muruaijty. The ethic in question is also
1roublingly formalistic. Whar matters is one's conttol over and
prudent distribution of one's powers and pleasut'es; it l< in this ascetic
self-restraint !hat true freedom lies, a.< the freedom of the artefact is
illseparable from itS self-imposed Jaw. 'lr was not a question',
Foucault claims, 'of what wa.< permitted or forbidden among the
desires that on.e felt or the ac'lS that one rommiued, bur of prudence,
reflection, and calculalion in tbe way one distributed and eonrrolk:d
his •cts' (p. 54). Foucault has now- at lastl- introduced th• question
ofuitical self-reOecrion into desire arod power, a position pcmaps not
wholly at one with his NietLSchcaniom; but he docs so only to produce:
a fonnallstlc account of morality. The ancients, be writes, did not
opel".lte on the as.li.umption that sexual acts were bad in themselves;
what matter:; is not the> mooc of conduct one prefers bur the
' intensity' of that practice, and so an aesthetic rather than ethical

393
criterion. But it is siii'Ciy not lrlle that some scwal aers arc not
inherenrly vicious. Rape, <;r chnd abu.e, are signal examples. Is rape
morally vidous only because it signifies a certain imprudenct or
immoderacy on the part of the rapist? Is there nothing to be said about
the vktim/ This is a subject-centred mor.ility with a ,·engeance: 'For
the wife (of Gr""k anliquil)')' Foucault writes without the faintest
.urdonlc flicker, 'having sexual relations only .,iJh her husband was a
consequence of the fact that sbe was under his controL For the
busbuld, ha•'ing sexual relations only with bis wife was the most
elegant way of uercising his control' ( p. 151). 01astity i.< a poUtical
nt'Cessity for women and an a""'lhetic flourish for men. There is no
reason what.aocvcr to imaJinc that f'oucault actually approves of Ibis
dire condition; hut it is one odious corolla.ry of the ethic he mor.r:
t'llrtainly does endorse. It is also true that Foucault, ~~ le:.st at one
point in his life, opposed tbe criminalization of rape. Pan of tbc
problem of bis opprooch consists in taking sexuality os 50mehow
paradigmatic of morality in general - a stlln<e which ironicaUy
rcdnpBcates the case of the moral conservarire, for whom sex would
seem to eldlaust and epitomire aU moral L'iSUes. How would
Foucault's ~work if it were transferred to, say, the ac1 uf slander?
l• slander accepuble as long as I exercise my power to perform It
modentely, judiciously, slandering perbaps three persons but not
thirty? Am I morally admirable if I retain a certain controDed
deployment of my slanderoiJS powers, letting them out and refnlns
them in in an elegant display of internal symmetry? Does it all come
d""u to a qucs&ioo of bow, in pustmodernist vein, one 'stylizes' one's
conduct1 What would a stylish rape look like, precisely? •·ouc:aulr's
Greeks beliC\e that one sbould temper and refine one's praetice< nor
because they ue inherently good or bad, bot hcc..usc self-indulgence
leads to a depletion of one's ,ita] powers- a familiar male faowy if
ever there was one. The more one aesthetically restrains oneself, lhe
richer the po.,c,. which accrue to one - which .is to say tbat power
here would seem in romantic vein an unquestioned good, a wholly
undifferentiated category. The positivity of P""·er can dms be
maintained. but convened into the btsis of a discriminatory ethics by
vinue of add ins to it the techniques of prudence and tcmpennce.
And the etbicallheory· which is the upshot of this- that 'the pb~eal
regimen ought to ai.'Cord with the principle of a general aestbetU:s of
existence in which the equilibrium of the body was one o( lhe
394
mntliliuns uf the pl'~)er hit:T<IfChy of tile soul' (p. W4) -has long
been familiar on lhc playing fields of t:ton Wirh 'Tnt> U~· t/ PlMJu",
Fouc:.ult <oruplctes his long trek from the: hrmning- of madness to the
public school vimu~s.
'I'M cthk:.l t<chn1ques with which Pouco~ul£ is COilC(:fOf:(i in rllis
!Jook ;~re ones of subi«ti,•iz:otion; but how far the lon! desp&scd 4

subject •<'lualty m.1k.:$ its tu:l<ltetl :tppi>~1rnnce •n rhcsr. pnge.., j.; :t mnuf
po)nt. It is dear that fou( ;lUlt'1 reprtssi\'e bostilicy- to S\lbiC('1ivlty,
which he can usually see only as sclf- in'aa~eracion. deprives him of all
~'lii~ tilr an erhi(S or • pnl it~. Jeaving hts rebtllion a usele:>s passion.;
and th.is volume is among othe:r ~h.in gs an attempt ro ptug that
dis:ahlinc; gap. Bu1 he still c~ntlC'Jt q u.itt bring himself Lo addre'-5 dtt!
qll(:srion of £he suhjt:cr as .o;uc:h. Wh:at we~ ·M\'t: ht:re, ratht'r than ;:hr.
subject and its desires, is the Dod)' and in pleasures - :1 h;df-w3y,
r:mh-wise, :.eo;tht:lic..i:ting muvc tuwanls the: ..uhj...:ct which lt:a\eii kl'lt
as techniq\H! and ('(lndl.lt l r..thc;r th~n ~ :; t('.tllh~rnr:::o.s :;nd a fi't:t~tinn, :tS
praxis rather than interiority. It is S)·mptouutie in tl:is re~cr that tht
practit'e closest to ~exuaJv:y in the b!Jok l:s d1a1 ui ~ating. .-1 ma.sbi'<e
r(·pression, i!\ ochtr words, would still stem OPffiHi'lt': as the bod}'
stands i11 for the subjc:cr a.nd 1he acsthttic iQr the: cthic.al. In one
SC~t:', lht: .SUlhJ~u otpp t:UT<J!l(.'t: Of lhc: UUI IN.U)!UC)U::I im.Jividua! ill Lhi~
wort.:. gfter ·an intcll«tw.l career dC'V()tCd ro i )'SUmatically scou rgintr
it • .:ontes as sotnelhiog of :a surptise; but thi.c. in.di\ idu:d is d maue t!
VL~r;· St.Tupul.:;uo;ly, 11f ~tnfiln• . an, h:dm:<lm'. SI.$Satinn. \h: a n~ .;till
oot pcnnincd ro enter the ubooc<i rulm.s of J ffe<'tt<ln, cmotion.al
intimi¢)' and ::.omp.usion, which Me not p~rttcul:ut!' notabk "'mons
thE:: puhlu.: schtlOI \'lrrnes.

If fo&cault's :!.ncmpt 10 o;csthctici.lt SOCJ>!l lilt ln n ~ (.;~( 'J;( P!-tus ra~ IS

:l r:ulicalty •ms:ni.>.;frtcrmy nff.1 ir, mnc:h the snme ( ;tn b{' said or j('(ln -
Pran('ois. Lyotard's proirtt in ]i.Jr Cumi"t· Lyourd's problem. like
f'oue-auh~s. is that he wis-hes to mamt;~,i n a })Cl'.l-structurali:sl
disc:c)\11'\U' whi<'b is somehow politi~Uy ~n~gc·d. This i~ n<.n '
prof)Jcm which has (:V(r :tppo~.rtndy Cat.LScd nlU·:'h lOSS Sleep IO or
J<~<ques Deu 'id::t. whUISe ~·ulitit.dl p mlile b.~ :dw!ty~ heen rcm:trh hly
luw and iudttnmiual~ , But I.)Ulanl i:. a fi>mn:r :->uc..-iali:-o• mililani :md
V{'(('m" of ('laSS SlYUUIC·, an f.'r-Stwhilc lt':lding Wcoloi!UC or Stm':di5mr
011 Ban~«n·C'. who is prope-rly rductan:: 10 ditch nl)tions ol sc.cial just.k(
,:altogether but must diS«<VCt, with t.be s.upiJOSW collu~.se of lhi.' old
395
111eta-narratives, • frc•h way of grounding them. It is this which]mr
Gaming ..,ts out ro accompli<h; and irs 'grounding' of rhe concepl of
iusr.ice consists essenrially ;,, an unholy mllo-ee of Kant and Sophistic
conventionalism. In Tire P<Jft!IIIJd<-m Conditirm, a work which despite
its nc:J'\'0\ISness of totalities is immodestly sub-titled 'A Report on
Knowlege', Lyomrd urges us to abandon tht grallds riOts of the
Enlightenment and model our knowled~c instead on lhe self·
legitimatinJ narrali\'es of the ClShinahua Indians of the upper
A111awn, whose srories, so we are told, npparently certify their own
ttutb in the pra~atics of their transmission. It is difficult, therefore,
to see how there can be for Lyotard any real distinction between
truth, .authority and rhetorical seductiveness: the one who has the
smuoth..,.t tongue or the raciest story has lhe pow.!r. It is also hard to
sec how this mO\'c would not, for example, authorize the narratives of
Nozism, provided they ore grippingly enough reoounted. Nazism, for
Lyotard as for some other postmodem thinker;;, is one lethal
deSiination of the Enlightenment's grow rtd!l, the tnglc consumma·
linn of a terroristic Reason and totality. He does not under<1and it a•
the upshot of a barbarous anti-Enlightenment irrationalism whicb,
like certain aspecu of postmodemism, junked history, refuud
3rgumenution, aestheticized polltics and staked all on the charisma of
those wbo told the stories. n,... is no comment in Th< Po.trn<Hkm
Conditi<m on the contemporary women's moYement, which In Its
simult-ous belief in political emancipation, and in the need to be
liberated from a dominative male rationality, somewhat complicates
any simple response to the Enlightenment. Nor is there any
consideration of the national liberation movements which, since the
A.mtrican defeat in Viernam, have inflicted on global imperiall.(Om a
$<lies of Slllggering rebuffs, and "'bieh often enough operate by the
'metalangu•ges' of freedom, justice and truth. These movements
have not, app3rently, heard of pootmodemism, or of the epi.,emolog-
ical illusions of rneta·narrati~e. There is an iuttresting parallel in The
Postmodml C<!ndition between a 'good' pragmatism and a 'bad' one:
just as those succeed best who tell the 6nest stories, so (as Lyotard
himself remarks) he who ha.• the fattest re<earch grant is mosr u• ely
to be righf. T he Confederation of British Jndusuy, did they but know
it, are postmodemiJrs to a man.
l..yotand begins bis discussion of justU:e in Just Gaming, unpropi-
tiously enough, wilh a straightforward espousal of inroitionism. We

396
 FROM 1'11& I'OIJ$ TO POSTMODER."USM

mu:., judge 'without criteria ... It is decided, and that· is all that can
be said .. . I mean rhar, meach instan"", I h2ve • feeling, dm is all •..
But if lnm asl<ed by what criteri• do I judge, I will have no :mswer to
give.'" Later in the volume, Lyotard will remark that an aesthetic
JH)Iirics c:mnot be adequate, no doubt with a backward glanc~ at lhe
amonrl philosophy ofbbidinal 'intensities' of his own tllrlier E(IJ1UJmit
Lihi4ill4lt; bur aUhe has done here is t o substitute one sense af the
aesthetic - intuition- for another. He is COI!ljltlled into this dogmatic
intuilionism because he beliet"es it impmnissible to derive lhe
prescriptive from the descriptive, 10 base a JH)Iilics on an analytical
tlu:ary of >Ocit'()'. Such an approach would suggest just dte possiMil)·
of a 'meta-view' of society which he is out to deny. This is also the
position of the lakr Foucault, "ito writes thai

it's not at all necessary to rel.ue elhical problems to

scientific know.lc:dge . . . For centuries we lu\'e been
corr.inced that berwcen our ethics, our persorud ethics, oor
everyday life, and tbt great political and soda! and
economic structures, thc:rc were analyti(;a) relations ... I
think we have to got rid of this idea of an anal)tkal or
nt~sary link bet\a,.een ethics and other social or economic
or political structures."

Both men, that is to say, spontaneously reinvent David Hume, having

perhaps neYer read him, and hold out for a rigorous delimitation
between fact and .alue, the antithedcal language games of description
and. prescription. ln Lyotard's case, tlois view is clearly influen""d by
the Sophisls, who denied all connection between moral and social
knowledge.
Such a rigid duality of discuursc:.s ;,;, one might dunk, a curious
move for a post-structuralist to make. In a travesty of the later
Wittg>mS~ein , Lyc:uard claims toot each bnguage game must be
conducted in its autonomous singularity, its 'purity' scrupulously
preserved. Injustice tome> about when one such IIUlJlllge gome
illljlOSes it~elr up<>n another. There is n<> recollection here of
Wittgere.1 eio's insistence on those complex 'family resemblances'
which, like the 0\1:rlapping fibres of • rope, intcrw<nc our \11rious
language games in real but non-65entialislic ways. Nor does L)'Otnd
seem to appreciate that all prescriptions net..,;sarily implicate claims

397
 :~bou t the W3Y the workl ia. n e:c is no point in m)' cl;;;mouring for the
(}ve rthr~· of c;;;pitaiism if the S)'Stt:IU s:.n.k. .,...itboul Lra...:..: a ;:tuod
t.:.::nnny :~go nnd I ~·•le s imp l~· not notlte.:l. Pmcriprions for lyourd
are thus left hanging in the air> <ut off from an)' u.do11al knowh.-:tlg~ t.H
society. There is no such thmg ,).,) politica! knowlc:d1"l', ·... haJe•;cr du:
Atrknn Nmton:tl Con~ss may thinl: h itt up 10. T hus i>uspcndcd in
vacan~ space. the prcscripti,•e or polltitlll is left t<l 1he men~i d of
U.nuitio•li~JU, decis.ionisllt, 1XImuJtiutw.IC.m 1 mm~j ut:nti • li:.m , :-;ophi~·
nod ~;uistry, a ll t>f whkh L)•otar.:f tries l)n Ji-om rime; to Lime in a
g-amur of intJiguin.g perrnuto1ttons.
LJulunl is l>Untt:wh:tt wary nf ethi c:~ I u mvt!ntionnlism, thl.'se days
pcrho1p; dloC' mos.( f,nhionabJt substirutt ior claukal moral theory.
This is partly bec-1usc like most post-structurahsu he bas a purdy
ftmn:1list SIISJikion o(S(l(ial consf:'nsus as S\'idt~ wh~ If!'\'tr ll$ ptnicular
content, but pAnly because in 1his text he now more clurly recogni:t..ts
that a v1ew of tbe mot'.ll good as 1v.too, opiui\lo. wh.at muM pt·opl~
h ~ ppe n lO hold} in prindple- INs in tilsti$01. Wh•t .h{· 1urt't$ to mQst
rcgul:lri~·. then. is a curiQU$ amalgam of Sophi:;m and K:unianism -
lh«: l:lllt:r tlpt:t~lia!g :as <l Lind uf pnlitil+te-LI vc:rsiuu uf 1hc Cnrti{Ue (1
,1M·dgmuwt ;r, v.hicb m()r:?J or politi(.,l j1.1dy.cmc::nl (:In occur 'wirhout
@'<•ing rhrough <\ conoeptual S)'Stem that could !erve as .a criterioon for
(lr:tCtll.:f!' c:p. 18). Sull:h judt;ing 'fti lhUI!I am ~eflls is den rly :1 (leriViltive
oj Kant's acsthc(ic laSIC' judgement is (O be bastd Ml on ooncepu,
princ-iples or general theories, but oo a kind of Kantj:m pt·odu c ~
imaginafion. a turure ~oriented mo.ximiarion of fl'M."•illiliries which
e-ludes the concept. \X>ntinually invent$ IK'W tcamcs and mO\o'CS, and
bas its closes.t 2n:.log)' in a.nnt~~J:~rd t utistic CA')>eriment or in the so-
L:al!ctl 'j11UUiu({it-.tl' :-.dcm:e which L)~llard (.."l.~t:hr:~!e> in 'IJtr Ptmi'I'II'Jd.crtt
C?milliiJII. his th.us to Kanfs third Cn'!iq~ th:t.t Lyo12rd has rcc::.ursc,
11'01 10 the Cn':ique ~· Pnu::ia:! R~:JStm; fu r lh:al wurl <:~ntl'es upuu tlu:
i<ka of :1n ~uwnom(.'IUS will, and :my .n ac:h :1uumrnny is t{·,r I ·}'lltud :~n
illusiol\. Indeed he mcnti.ons e!f J>vliS"-ntthat bcc;1usc of this rc jcction
of d.e autonvmoos su{)itcr lte h:.~s cvme ~o di~.;;~.rd dlt: politi¢ll go~l of
sel f-m:.m:tgcnn:nr. The )JOSI-!'>tftlCIUr:!.lio;t tlenntring uf tile .. ubjt:(:t. in
ot:hcr woM~. rr.s.uh:; hr.r<: in l'l dit>mi:;sal of th.~ twlicf 1h111 men anrl
WCPmcn in S<)('icry sllo~kt 2& far 21 poss.it-Jc control :and dctcrmtn..:-
lh,rir nwn crmllitums uf life.
Pr«:S(:sipti\·t:~. Lyl~tllnl pnx:l:~irns, cannot he iu:'>fitir:tt T ht: law, !IS
wirh lht .\1osllk oodt. Is unt·rly m;·stcri(.lus, proml.l}gJted out of an

J9S
 FROM THE POIJS TO POSTMQOERNISM

empty traMCcndeace; we havt: no idea who is sending us the

mcssases in question. There is no way of answering lite question of
wbywe are on one polilical side rather than another. ' If you asked me
why I am on that side, J. think that I would answer thRt I do not ha•·c
an answer to lite question ''wb)'?• and that dlls is of lite order of . . .
transcendence. That is, here I feel a prescription to oppose a given
!hint;. and r thinlthat it is. just one' (p. 69). h sC1:msa strange way of
running an election campaign. What obti~tcs us, as "'ith K3ntian
mornllaw, is 'something absolutely beyond our intelligence' (p. 71).
The Kantian rcp]ativc Idea ' guides us in knowing what is just and
not jusL But guides us without, in the end, reaDy guiding us, that is,
without telling us what is just' (p. 77). Rather tike Foucaultian power,
the regulative Idea is utterly indeterminate, void of specific conrent;
)'tt it is on this, apparently, that we should base our decisioos to ban
immigration, unleash genocide nr feed the hungry. What is valuable
about this Idea is that it permits us to think ' outside of habit', of
receA·ed opinion, whkh Is no doubt as accurate a chan.ctu izarlon of
Mussolini as it is of Mayalun-sl}'.
If there is a l)pe of Kantian catesorical imperative which Lyotard
W()u]d be .,illing to acee))~ it would be: 'One must maximi&e .,. much
as possible the multiplicotion of small narratives' (p. 59). The
problem "ith this case is that it is a sentimental illusion to believe that
sm>ll is alw;ays beautiful. What $R1an narrative$ d~< l.yotard have in
mind? The current, grntifyingly miour tributary of British fnscism?
PluntitY, in sbon, as for post·struauralism in general, is a good in
itself, quite regardless of its ethical or political substance. What is
morally just is to generate as many language games as possible, all of
them saictly incommcnsur2ble. Lyotard bas aU tbe suspicion of the
wlll of the majority of a J olin Stuan Mill, and cannot adva""e
politieally beyond this highly traditional liberal pluralism. Thc:re is a
problem, however, in squaring such pluralism with the regulative Idea
of judgemenr, for in Kant himself thai Idea involves the dreaded
notiou of totality. 'Is it possible to decide in a just way in, and
according to, this multipbcity?' Lyotard muses, and rerums an
appropriately indeterminate resp""-"' to his own question; 'And here
I must say that I don't know' (p. 94). The only jll<rice is that no one
millority should pre~~a U over any other - a poslllon which strictly
interpre1C<l would mean that a minnrity of sociaUsts would not be
permitted to persuade the majority of society to forbid a minority of
399
anti -Semites from stirring up n:ligious hatr<d. Lyutard's solution to
the ills of capiulist sociery oomes down lD dte end to computerized
data banks, a stimulation of multiplicity reglrdle$s of its politic:>l
content, and the narratives of the Cashinahua Indians.Juugcmen~ he
tcUs us usuisticslly, mu5t always be case by case - a claim which is
either II'Mal or fa~. In one sense of the phrase, nobody can judge in
any other \lt'Qy; b•Jt if rhis is ro be tuken to mean that we must nc:vt.T
deploy general <ritcria in our panicular judgements, men il would be
interesting to see -what a particular judgement whoJJy innocent of
geneml criteria would look Ilk Ho..· could we do this, and still usc
language! Lyotard cunl'uscs a kind of moral rationalism- the simple
ddu<lia• of particular judgements from gCJ\et;llprinciples - with the
i.n ~il:.tble in"'olvemeo1of ~.me kind of genernl <:riteria in any concrete
act of judgc'ftl<:nt.
Whatever the real problems ioherent io the sorts of moral and
potitical cases which Lyotard opposes, they c;tn hardly be the """""'
of as much calami tous confusion, slippage and obscurantism as in this
work. As with postmodemist theory io general, Lyot.ard is out to sever
the connections between truth and ju.~tic.: -tbough unlike some of the
more rec.:kJes::. manifestations uf that position be dots not dr.:ny that
tnllh is possible. 'l'heon:tical and descriptive discourses cenainly
etist; but they are n.ow blankly disconnr:o:ted from nonnative
questicms. We are back, in oth<'T words, with the fanUtiar couplet of
positivism and idealism, against which dialectical thought (now
comfortingly consigned by Lyot.ard to 'dina=' st.arus) has mays
>truggled. John Locke, father u( English tiberalism and d..,.out racist,
held in his doctrine of anti-essentialism that no particular feature of
reality could be said to be in itself more important than any other; and
it follows from this that there is no more reason why no individual's
colour of skin should not be regarded as an essential feature of her,
than why it should." Lyotard's divorce of the descripliv< and the
nonnative is uncdy in tine with this tradition of thought.
ewe want to know*, writes Denys Turner, 'because '.l'e w;mt tD be
free; and from time to time we learn to call by rite name of
"knowledge" those forms of enquil)· which we need if we :ue at all to
free uursolves from those time-encrusted conceptions which, in the
course of history, have degenerated into the anachronism of
idealogy."' Morality, Turner claims, is as cla.~sicaUy conceived 'a
scientific im;estigation of the social order lhat can genemte norms for
4()1)
 FROM THE POLIS TO POSTMOD£RNJSM

action'." This, in brief; is !he ahemative political case 10 Ly01ard; and

il is worth turning now Ia a highly innovolive, if deeply problematic
attempt in our own time to articulate !he given and !he desir.oble
together.

The aesthetic bcpn with Baumganen as a modest asscnion of lbt

claims of the Ltlotuswrll upon an abstncl reason; and il is just lnis
proj<:e~ now inflected as a radical critique of capilalisl socicay, which
JUrgen Habermas ukes up in our own time. What has come about in
the toter de>'elopmenc of c':lpitalist society, so Habermas argues, is a
progn:ssi..,. conRkt bcrw.:cn 'system' and 'lifc--..vrld', as lbt formc:r
penetrates more and more deeply into !he latter, reorganizing i1s
practices in ucord.1 nee with its own rationalizing. bureaucratizing
logic .... As lhese anonymous political and economic ~=cNrcs invade
and colonize the life-world, !hey begin to insttumenuliu forms of
human acri-.·iry which require for their effective opcmtion a rationality
of a quite different kind: a 'communicative ratiooalily' which involves
pnctical and mon l agencies, democralic and porticip<ilory processes,
and the rt.."Wun~cs of cultural tradition. Such a rationality, bountl up as
it is 'With subjectivity, cultunl kn011'-how and !he Sl)bere of lhe
a1Tecti\!e1 will neveT submit without :t Slruggle to such remorseless
>"f'tcmatization; and in impO!ring its O'"ll alien loci< upon it, late
capitalism risks eroding some of !he very cui rural resources essential
for its own legitimation. Systems integration poses a threal to social
intesnlion, underminins lbt consensual foundations of social
inrer.acrion. A.~ the state re2ches its long arm inro the economic rea1m,
il also spreads into the sociO- ('UIIural sy>tcm, cnfc:cbling "itb its
organizational rationality some of !he. values and habits which
guarantee its own continued mle. And given lhe e.•pansion of the
state's acti\ity in social aiTairs, those guarantees are aU the more
necessa!j' at precisely the point where lhey are more difficult 10 come
by. The I.Jmrsrwll or t::ultur.'ll $.)101em is pe1.:uli:•rly res.ist:mt 10
•dolinistrativc control; and !hat control may weU have !he uncomfort-
able effect of lhcmatizing and publicizing issues which once could
safely be taken for granted. In the d••sicol phase of capitalism, the
so-called 'pobnc sphere' - pri•'tt< individuals engaged in a public
discourse of critical reason - exercised a vhal function in mcdi•ting
between the essentially distinct re·•lms of slate and civil sociecy; bul as
this distinction is gradually eroded, ";m the sprtadlnJ ofstltc activity
 inLO ~u:: i:J l ex~tm:r: as :a wbulc: tl•t 1•uhlic.; ~pl tc: lt: hc:I.:Uilll'!" •l:sr.lf
shrunk•:n :1mI dt:)<.ic:nur:cl, in wh:u f-l:lb<'rm:~$ t('rm:; t1 ' rt lt1 1dtali z~tior. '
of p uhlic life. This oonflicr. hel'\'ttn system and life-world. then
produ'es wi.1hir.1 the latter etn.:~in p-Jthologic-.JI :;yulj110!u~ of · lOCh
the- r urrt•u rC's.urge lt('(' 6f r{'aetiOrul.f\' moral t ampaigns in th·:
Wc.stcro world couJd be .sceo as all e~amj)k:. T~W)ris m, for
H;Jhc:nrw."• "'uu ld he :mmh(:r ""d ' in~ancr: - wh:1r h (~ c.:~Jls 'the
artc:mpt to introduce .acsthctic~lly \'xprc3-Sjve elements inm politics,
like J sJu:dl·liC':de wrc.l erg ro uncJ'}~ Sf.u,·h h::rr!Ni~rn. ht: daim1i, is in its
(!Wn W3;1 an :tnfmpt ,.liJ re,>.1ffirm poli£ic'> ifl the loCI!' Ol p utle'
adm injs:rr-Atioo ~. n
The politics which H;Wcnnas Mmself alli.rnts are pmbublr liulc:
more vi~ l\lf.' •han tt'rrori:;Jn. Uh~ Lyomrd, if fC.r Q14itc different
rc:asons, he h:u llblndoned th.c goal Clf workers 1 sclf~ul<H~tuu::w,
etlt~th· ely jc:Ui:;;tmt:tl lhf' idt::l ul d ll.'iS :.lru~~le, a nd c:an uifcr 110
OOn\'indn~ prl)gra.mmc by which his idc2.1 of radic3.l democracy might
be acl•ievtd. Hab.:1'111~·~ i!; an a~.;.; ~,h,'1ui\.:~l J!1l11J, :doo11y rerralMe frum
the ~h~r~ of rotirir:al ,lCtion. bt.n hiS W()rl:: fle\'~rth eleS S re presentS ~
politi c~( strik(' (!)r rhe life·\\tQrld againSl adminiitratT\'e rationality.
without f.Jr a fll(lmenl roml ul!cally d iM>\\nillS th::.ntctsf>il) uf :.)Stem~
md systtms moo~' as so.:h. \"-1h:l! he ••ishes to speak up for is 'dlt
.itructure of a ration,;,lit)· whi(h is imru41nent in <YCf!'<l:l.y communiG<ll·
1\'e pcactke-, O:Uld wh ~dt h1'ing:t Lilt' ')tubburnne::s .,(Jih:• hirm)!, in I'• phi)
11pinst 11!'- funccional demands 6f autonomi:.:cd .:conomk and
:h.iministralh·e s,-stems'.''' In the broade~ ! e.nse o ft~ tcnn, he th us
'.~ filt'!! :1!1 :> (mlilk:Ji ':at:stlll.'lll.:l;l.:l', dcf~ ncJ ing lhe h\·cJ !JSlliUSI lhl~
logk-.,1, 1'1/:nmh/'i 'f.:tin.st tpiJ:i1n(. JnO\'ecl art ir.sdf is for H~brr ru ~s
~ine \.' rucial pl:t<;c whc~ the ic()p;ardi~ed rc-soutcc:!t of UlOI'al ;UJd
:df.:.~nn: life m ny ~ ~·r:-~r.:JII izf'd ; ,)llfl in t he rriricol <li:;cus:;il)n (If such
<an. a kiDd of sh.Hkl ~.~o,- pt1blk sphere may ))~ TOC'!SL'lblishcd.
cQntcrn,,b ti.flg: thot imphc;,;,£ions of such cx:p<:ficaces for polnical life
:and "" mcdt:uing hciWCf'fl rtle ~;(:pa n:u e K:lntl:ln tph4!r?.S" of rhP
('(lgPitive , rnoml :mel a~s.t~u••k .
h is this 'ae-s:thcti('' dimension of Hab.:rmas'! \\'ork whic-h the
custom:uy, sometime!'> mcritc:J c-riticism of his cxcc-li$ive rarionalism
fn:cp •t.·mly cr.•crh•11ks.. \Vh:tt gwes no;e ru lh:u cruK:is.m, in pan. 1s
Hai:M-nnas's h<·fid rhar fi•r 1h t~ 1i fi~-worfcl rc; be: l)rnuxilr d fccrivdy ro
ben on 1 rciti.::d l)ublk !Cystcm , irs WQrl:ings ~u st be form:.tizcd as f.-.r
:~.s possible by wliat he call s~ 'recoostructi-·c scief~c:e'. T he do•ma.iu o(
402
communiOJtn·e rotionoility "''Orb by the t<l<ii assJm:;>tions, under-
standings and know-how of acting, speaking subj«ts, who wou!d nor
thcmsc:l..cs usually be cap.1blt of thematiting this pre-theoretical
k!lowl<edgf; tn.1l for thto 11fv.-wnrtc~ tn "'' :1 :.s r:ulu·:~l plll irit:::~ l rt<;oun:r.,
its inner logic must for Babtnnas be distng.1gcd from this 1achr11~ )S
;~nd dleoretically formillizcd. In th;s scn~c hts. work is in line with the
dassk;~J n.esthetic tradilio.n . whi('b as we have o;etn in the CI'S(" of 11
Baumgarten siro.il:arly scd:s, if with quite diffc~nt J><.lliti,al ctl'Cct.$, to
d tart u kind uf Olltt=•·natiH' raliuoal it~· at wvrk withi!l e-.·ctyda.~ !Jodil,y
o.pcri('t:lct, all(! tn bring: thk t":Jrionaliry lnro rtlati(m with tilt:
operations Qf ab~tract re.ason. For Baumgarten, {)(course, such an
~ esthellc lf.lgic i'> an in f•~rior muc!e, which it ts nut fur H:~lnmn;t.t.;;
indeed 1he latt~r in~ns these traditional priorities, insisting tha• a
technico-insttumeolal rcason1ng be conductotd within the 'onHramts
of a oommunkative rt~ti<lnal i ty.~~
The 'acuhetic', then, can bt s!aifttd up a ltvcl to thNrukal
lht:mut i z~ tiO•li but dte ronstqutnt ~barge of rat1oualjsm or imd)e(tU·
alhm a.gnin~ l·l ohermil~ iU.'l:lihed in severa.l senses. o•terlooks me fact
that Cor him there ts no theorcticzl ans>JJcr to the question of wi•y this
~hnuhl tic clunt!, uf tht: ntutivt: vflht: whC)Ic t:uttrJnise. As ld.r ali such
motivation goes. •;,;c ;lrC murm:d in a .:;rnst: rn tht: i:-;o;uc: nf 1hc
;~e-sthetic, whKh m.akcs its appe-arance ag:ain at a ·ru@'htr' lc\'el. In "'
rep! ~· ro some of bis critics1 H:ai:H;• rm:t~ m mmt'nts f,;t\Hurnhty un tht:se
n:mo:rks on his 'WgrL: by Joel Whitebrook:

It i5 snmcwhar irunK: rh11 Hahc:rmas, whu i:i Sf! ulir:n

accused of hyper-rationalism by !he hcnnt n¢ll:icists,
re(jUin:!'> s.n l:n!Je Jn dement uf JUdgr:m ~nl Jlthe very bast:
of his iChemc. T he w:rj in whi~h one (('OffiCS 10 terms· with
the transcendental StandpOint ultimatt~· bear! a cl.:,ser
n.oseml:ll:ln\.'e II) n~thetil: l:t!:>IP. ur >\nswceli:tn Jlhrunt:his.
!han to emphatic philosophical proof."

Hata~rmal\ rc:nctmll.:t'~" all uhinlltlt" l(,uudaliltnS; ami a~ Wltitcbtuuli

sees this I~V(S open a cc.rujn space for the return of the :J.(."Srh.:tic.
The reconstructive science by which l lalxrmas wm seek to lay
bun: tl1t= inner lugic uf the lil~ · v.orld i~ dtat of wti,·trSill pra~o? ntl li<:S,
th<' ailtl ()f which j :; to reoonstru<'1 the i nvari~blc s:•ro<'tures or eve~·
conct:~'ablc ~pecch .situation. llabermas's fa ith is that langu·a sr,
howe·.,.er distorted and m.1nipnlative~ a.lw~ys has consensus or
undersriiJlding as iiS inner trl<JS. We speak tu others in ord<r to be
understood, ••·en if the content of our enunci.>tions is imperious or
offen.sive; and if this were not the case we would not bother to speak
at all. In e•·ery act: of speech, h""..:ver debased, certain \'lllidity claims
are impUcitly raised and reciprocally recopittd: claims to truth,
intelligibility, sinceril;)' and performative appropriateness. It is there-
fore possible to project from Ibis condition the con tows of an ideal
communicat_ive situation, impltcitly anticipated in every actual act of
dia~c, in which di=urse would be as far as possible unoonslrained
by utemal or intcmol deformations, and in which for aU possible
panicit>ants there would be a symmetrical distribution of chances to
thoose and apply sp""t:n acts. lf, in othn words, we extnopobte from
our actll31 :octS of communi<'3tion and Sl)'lizc their cnabfing conditions,
we can recover the p<>litic.tl values of autonomy, mutualily, equality,
freedom ami responsibaity from their most routinized stroct:ures.
'The troth of statements', H•bennas is thus •ble to prociaim, 'is
linked in the last analysis to the intention of the good and the true
life.'"
To claim w detect a promau tk /mzluw in an oxc:hange of obscene
Insult!> would seem either ridiculou.~ gullible or f3lndy pe"'<ne -
llkin, perhaps, to Fredric Jadleson's startling cla.itt1 to discern a
prokptlc image of utopia in any human coUectr.iry wlwsoever, whlcb
would pre•umahly encompa.~< racl<t rallies."' Oo cor such proposals
move at such a rarefoed lr>·d of absiraction as to be effectively
wonhlcss.' Can a poUdeal ideal really be projected from the
supposedly in\'ari::~b1e, Ufliversal 'deep SU'Uctu_res 1 orhuman COil\1ersa-
tion? Thae an: serious reservations; yet there arc ways of grasping
these apparently naive propositions wllieh perhaps make them a Uttle
less impbusible. Raymond Williams, whose intricate connections of
the ideas of communication and cvmmunity in some sense parnUel
Habcrmas's own work, is sivc:n 10 argWng that when a writer
'di..,ngages', he or ~he <top~ writi.ng. ln M<><fnn T"';:trtY, Williams
quotes approvingly Albert C:omus's dictum that 'if despair prompts
speech or reasoning, and ab011e all if it resulu in writing, fmerniry is
established, natural objects are justified, love is bam'.'' The worst
is not, as Edgar commeniS in King uar, as lung as we c'llrl say: 'tllis is
the worst'. On Ibis hypothesis, the very act of speech or diaJocuc,
howevtr brutal or sterile, c:onnot help hearing with it a ucit
 PROM THE PO/JS TO POSTMODERNJSM

commi1111ent to reason, nuth and value, establishing a r«:iproclty,

buw.:,·er gr<>SSiy inequitable, within which it is open to us to glimpse
lbc posstbllity orfuU human muruaUty, •nd so the dim lincamems of
:m ahern:ative form of society. 'I believe', writes Haberma..11, ' I hat I can
show that a >pedes dmt depends for its Sol'\'i-al on the structun:s of
linguistic communication and eoopcratil'e, pu!p0$ivc-rational action,
must ll[ nta:s.sity rely on re:ason'.n Reason rhus has ilij roots in our
social and biolopcal condition, hov.·cvcr sy:ncmatit"31ly crippled and
deluded our actwl discourses. Truth for H.abennas means that son
of proposition which would, did the discursive conditions allow i~
comnund the f«e consent of anyone who could enter unconstr.Uncd
int<> the rel"'·ant discussion; and In this sense truth remains
something to be anticipated radter than fuUy secured in the pres<!nt.
Only in the context of radical democracy, where social institutions
had been so rransformed as tn ensure in principle the full, equal
participation of aUin rhc dc6nition of mcartings and values, would
truth properly flourish; and what truth we can ncgodatc now, in a
state of unequal, dominative, systemutically distorted commun.icutiOJ\,
refers itself forward in some sense to this idealized future condition.
If we wish to know the truth, we bo•e to chongc our way of life.
It is possible to see in Habermas's ideal >l'elodt communi!)• an
updated version of Kant's community of aesthetic judgement just as
Haberma.~ bold.~ that communicaJion is naturaiJy oriented to agree-
ment, so Kant proposes some deep spontaneous consensus buill into
our &.collies, which the act nf aesthetic taste mo81 clearly exemplifies.
And jmt as taste is entirely unconstrained. so Habermas's disc~mi•ce
community must be absolved as far as possible from aU distoning
powen and intereSI!J, rel)ing on the force of the bcuer argument
alone. Tilis community tvirtuali2es' the constraints of practical
inten:sts, suspends them, like lbc work of an, for a privileged
moment, puts out of play aU motives other than the will to a rarion•lly
grounded agreement. ·I n this sense it bears something of the relation
to our toiiUIIOil. interest-ridden social life that the work of an bears to
the practical, instrumenLll realm ofhourgeoi!; dvU <oeiety. T he ideal
speech community suspends judgement on the giveaness of certain
nonns or even the existence of ecn:oin states of alfairs, h)'JIO!hcsi2lng
the wflole of tht< in rather the way that the a<:tual existence of rhe
aesthetic referent is a matter of indifference for Kantian taste. The
community has a social function, as the democratic forum in which
405
 1113neu rita! to pubUc policy are decided; but >~ithin its own frontier~~
a pen•otsive di$intercstedness n•les) in the sense of a readiness to
suspend one's immediate interests in the name of the bener
argument. If the Kantian aesthetic represenmion is m image of
'purposivenes..~ without purpose', lhe Habermasian community is- a
maner of purposeful disint,..stedness. It might seem thai the more
oln·ious Kantian par:Uiel would be with the domoin of practical
reason, which Jike Haberma!s's model is concerned with the formation
of a pun: will free of all pathological inten:sts; but Kant's moral agent
is a sofi1.2ry, monologit2l subj<ct, and to th:at extent an inadequate
image of a trut.h which for Hahennas is aJ,..ays intrinsically dialogical.
His paradigm of communicative rationality can thus b" seen to
combine element!! of Kant'• second and third Criliq•11, supen.dding
the comrnunitari•n structures of the laner t.o the will-fomtation of the
fonncr.
Habermas has been at pains to deny lhat the forms of communitat-
i•e rationality can simply be proj"'1e~ forward as a utopian future.
The concept is, he claims, a 6r:tion or 'iUusion', but one which is
effectively ope1111ioe in the act of communication and so an
unavoidoble supposition. He al.su claims to be pe<:uliarly unentmocetl
by the dream of a unified, homogenized, whoUy transparent society."
On lhe contra!)', hi< work has always insisted on the Mas>aJ)I
wfferentation of the cognitive, moral and cultural spheres, wbieh he
wishes to liCe interrelated but not conllated. His intention, he
comments In an interview, is 'not to mix questiom of truth with
questions of justice or taste'" - to resist, in short, that wholesale
aesthetici2alion of knowledge and monliry typical of some posunodern-
i<t thought, while pointing at the ume time to the damage inRieted by
the F.nlightenment's rigid separation of these at~'>. Indeed one might
argue that ir is some postmodemists who are the rrue lev.Uers and
homogenizers in !his resptct, fur all their cult of the heterogeneous:
the aesthetic imperialir.ts its neighbouring territories, modeOing lhem
upon il>elf with scam regard for their dili<:ursive specificity. Un!il<e a
Lyol.2rd, and in the tcctb ofaU cmotMsm and decisionism, Habermas
believts th:at normative swements admit of truth just as theoretical
ones do - tl••t they too must be submitted to d1e lest of pubHc
argumcnr:ation."
Universal pragmotics have jusdy come in for a good deal of sharp
criticism. There is a doubt, for example, about how 'aeslbelie' the
ideal speech commuoit)' rc:.1Uy ts - how fa r. in 5<,-la O(nho~bib: s
tcnns, it acknowled1t('S me ·ccmtrtte' as w('U as che 'r,tt~eral ized '
other, engascs with bodily needs and indi,•idual particul:arit~·:. Its
K:mri:m pru11cn:.tnn : :ao~;tu~ ill in Ibis n:spt:\:1 , si1;t:~;: :a.,. wt h;~\•t: M' tll
Kant's ('Orumtmity of tJSIC' ri_goro\tsly cxdtuks the body. In hi$ m(lrc:
re-cent 1'/0rt) Habcrmas has J:mited somtw--hat the political reach of
his mOotiP.I. SU!:!btv.Sring rh:u it :!Jlflhe!'. IU tlUI!!1.1ifln.o; uf .iusttt:~: mrher than
to C\o'ahu.ti,·e issues o: the goi)..-1 life .J1 Tit<' "~N'hok modd wouJd inde-ed
seeoo comldembly too iuridic.U .1od legalistic. ullabte to sustain the:
weighr of rhe con crere~ contliai\·e hi:;mries of imere:a which its
participant;-necessarily bring t() it from the lif~ ·world.. and 3.Dl.biguous
Ut II!'> :;r:slurd ur .J OC("IUU()~I:ttiun uf ~odt:tl H:tl>t:nU:!li «.:all... II!'C:
'11csth.Cri«.'-C'\Jircssivc::1• J)cs.phr. these c;ririi;'.tll juOgt mcms.. th\' model
diSpi.l)'.S one particularly b()!d and original feature: it$ .1ttcmpt to sp;m
lht: JlC.des nf (oct :md v:.hlt>-: th~•.n~ 1i c:tl :.n(l norma1lw t:tisc.:our$(1'$,
which In the <'ase 1>f Lyow-d are hdd i>O rigorous()· separatt.
Wh>ttcvcr the undoubted w lutr.lbihty of hiS pro;ec_, l·l:.lbermas
ltllder.:.rands thar :1. desif'ilble future must be !;f,mehow a rllalttlical
function of the prcs.cnt - )1.1.<>1 as, $0 Denys Tum.::r ~ argued, the
:true desiles' to whid1 a Cu!'l'l!ully ~l i·dcl ut.k."ti pt-clo11Jll migh1 :JIIain
ntu'it :-.um t htlw lx~ a l'u nc1inn of ·...·har lit.' or sh( di>tS now acm:a ~·
W3ot:111 A s->cWist-fem:nist fu tu~ is in thi& sense both continuous and
w~unl inumts with m .. pr~..t!nt: in nppns.ilion 10 :lJl!lC::Jiyptil:'ism on
tile one lwld and t"·olut:oni!lnt on the other. Unlc·!IS we are able to
$hOW that 3 dcsir.1ble future society is in some wil~· alteildy Hnmw1.:111
within lht: l'ft-::-.t:nl S.)':>lr:m, cxtrapt.t!abl<: lwm a (CM:1in im;;.gimti'o'('
rccoootrucrion of our currc:u pr.1 c-tic~ we J:.pSc: inlo the .1:malgam of
djsiJlusiomneot <lud 'bad' utupia:tEsm wilh •,~rhkh the: l:ur:r f'r:tn ktim
:.t-'houl. hd(·,r\: Hab(·rma') m;snm('d its mantle.• came to be- affik1td.
Disillusio:ur.cnt ollld 'bad: utOpia in one: ior on the one hand such a
pulii.K::d ~·il'>i uu, in ils r•:ar:trHtkl rwrn~prlnn nf thl" gh.·en :::t.\Ci:JI order gs
wholly incorporati,·c ;10ci dn ·o«J of contraditli()n, can locate no
dynamic in the prtli<nl wbkh rui~ht feasibl) Jud to v.hat it th:sin:s;
UIOfli<lll ill lhe b·.tJ s~ u:.t: , bt:<:'4ll.'il; il muSI !ht:rr.li.lf't ' di~•;oYCf its ide-al
..·ll)ucs in some !iphcre Jar~d\· diicor.nc<:t'd from the maior social
fcm:-s of the si,·cn power-structure. In the C<HiC of .A.tlt1rnu, this
!iph.erc: t.S modemisl atl.
If a 'had' urnpi.1ni~m ::~rbitrnril)' OtC::ks illn ideal onto a degr~ed
prt.~s\' n~. tOrms of left lriumphalism tend to sec the (utw-e ~ bulkius

4117
 too palpably and f(lbu5t1)' iu the I>Jtsell( - in lltc t:mu:ermrm, ti 1r
t:~::unph:, uf :a \\.Htking das.-. which i~ .:dw:•ys mhert:ndy r~\Olution srv
nr rn: -rc\·olmiQn~ ry. which is merely hdd back by .social demcx-utic
or Stalinist betr.tym, and which is C"t't'n now on the pOOH (J{ t.:•mli u.~
l!Ut.1 i1s rrwn, :1s fi.'N' th~ N('w 'f('Stl.lment th.e kingdom ot God is tvcn
now striking inro !Ustory bad we but C)'C$ to ~ec it. I fabefffi,n SltcJ'S
ncatJ:.·.• if fol' mao.v uocoovinciuJ!.ly, b tlw~:tn !h i:,; J•an i,:uJar St:ylla ~nd
Char;·bdis, partly b~' vinuc of the high degree: of formalism o( his
universal pr-.agmarics. It is the •deep' .!olru,ture. uf uur 4:ommuni(..11livc
u tiunati1y, nul :~ny JlClrrit.1.JI:It >:>Ub!:3.Anrl\•e C<ll:'lte nl, which. ran ti::mn the
b:tsis of ., tcrrnin concq>t~n of radical dtmo('r .uk insrirutions; and
chi5 formalism IS me.Jnl to s01fq;u3rd his lh t:tiJ)' ill;iliu~t <my 1uu
p i!;im·e r)l' pr~mntoltir. \l!l'.llittn rhottght On the other hand, his ~c::
is that the transhistorical set of t riter-ia which th.is uui\lersal
pt"3glllu(il."S yield:. him "'iJI f)I'Uit'L'L him equJJIJ:r lrnm culmrnl
rtlatr..isrr.. H<>w successful thi¥ project a<:~ually i.s is qu(st ion~ble: it is
arg uable~ fur in:>1ance, lkn lhe uvnn11 u( t.'Utn!llUHil.:ali\lo;: r.ttion:dny
arf' 11111 mmimr.list :~ n d indr.tt:nnin.u<:, tOI.I comprnible with a whole
ranrt or pos:i~ible tthkal thtoric;:s, tObe ol much help. Wh:ate"-er its
grievous fl .~ws., h owe~r. the gtucnd trrwr (I( tl1t lht:or)· rt:ruaiu:-.
jn,ertStbg and \·aluable. Htbcrm:a.s bclicvc.-s. pe:rhaJ'l' tOO sentiment-
all)·, that what it is to li\ie ¥rt0 i~ SUI(te:h (M· <~ l rt'"4tl) s.e..:n~ d1 e•HIM:t!Jt:(]
iu lha( \\.hM:h makes U!" mn'>t •lisrint:li\'t:dly y,.h ~t r wr: 11rc· tan~ IHf.C .
The good life shadow,s our e ve~· discu.r~i\C gestur(. running beneath
our 'J.Tangling.s lik.c; a silcnl, unbroken sub- text. Our di.alogues.. simply
hy 1'imu~~ {I{ v.·h<lt rhcy :u~7 poinr implicirft• beyond 1hr.:mselves. .1\ s
Thomas McCartb:.- puts il: 'the i.:lea ,_.r truth po:n1.s u himndy tu a
(onn o( i!llttactionlh:.ll !S f:t t (rofu all diSIOI'ling tnJlueuces'."'

Tite ffiO(a), p11~ lhe j)(ilgtllatislS <af1d piUJ.alisls. doe~ not imporc.andy
<:<•nsisl in c hnosing hc:n: anJ fll )ll' a lili: st; i c:, ma .11lmi:~:in~t c:urrr.n l
4

possibilities or simply can;i ~ on du.· givc.-n conversation v.i th one or

two baroque tlourish(s. It <:oosisls primarily, as l·blx:rm.u and
,\1arxilom ~·u~uit.t', iu crc:.tiug tl~ tllw;tel'i:tl cum.litiuns jr} "'•JtiGh a
c.:urnmun icatinn abuut 1 hc::~ maUt:r.o :tlo ffte •.s Plki'iiblc lrmu
domination oould be established, so that indivkluds, gi''cn full
p~tticip:uol')' <1ccess ro tM processes b) whidl cOtnmon m('.:tnings and
"aluo:s ;uc funuulutcd, N uld dl('n stlcoel ;.lud exerc.is.: " v(w'olJjty of
Yllfues and styles in WO'IfS OOl curr~n tfy ll\'ailabiE- to (ft~m . ViPwP.d in
this ligbt. Hl bc..'1'ma$'S theoretical ctncrpri~e has much. in common
wi1h the .....urk ufRa)'luueld \ViUiiiu)S- rhouth Williams's subtle sense
of the compl~!li mediations betwE"fn such nec.l:'Ssarily uni\'E.:r.;;.11
formations as social class, and the lh·ed parricularides of place.
rt!l{iun, Nalure, lht! bOd)\ COnlJ·asts lt:llillgl)· with Habennas's
ooiversallo;t rationalism. Williams's social lhoory retUses ac onr.e a ' bcld ~
wliv en,;~liMu ;u\d \lohal he liked to term a 'militant partictdarism',
holding tor,cthcr a tl tr:p\~· pluralistil: t.•ummitmr.m, • lic1:n n:t.:ux.nitiam
of oompltxity, §J>Ccihcity and u ne.,.enness, with what \)ecamc u he
tk...,d opcd a mon: auf.~ 111urc rc:svlute empl•a~is upuH the ctmr..ili1y o f
social d11.ss. l'or \\'iiJi<lms fiS for HnbermllS, ht.~. mornlity u; must
Unportandy COilC(ivcd 1$ the mltcrial. political m ov~mcnt towards tht
~;.ual t•f a hueuam: ~lei dy, uud 1hus .as a IJt idge betv.ceo prestnt and
fu ture abot:t wbic:h the litrugglcs of the pasr bavt much to instruct u s.
The- JMJSI!u(l1l~ •u.i st p(eoccupatioll with a plurality of life·Sl)'les too
oftt':ll OtmS iB C)'C!'. fhnn rile q uilr $j1•:l:i li(! }ljo;mric:aJ a mdi1iun:-o whirh,
in certain a~ oi U·,e globe, now ptrrnit of sud. a plurality, and :~ verts
its t.."}'eS too from 1hc stri.n.jp:nt, ufu:n i;wis1ble hmiwtions impo!ied
up<Jn any such plurality by our prc:scm conditions of lile.
T he l•ubristic d octfine chat human beings are inli.nite1)' plastk in
lh<:ir power:; hc:Jonv t 'o:-otnlial1)' 111 lhc t:put:h ul bnW!(l.'Uis R11numti •
ei.sm, :~nd has sometimes been uncritically appropri:ucd by political
r:u.lfc:.ls. Karl M:.rx, as it llaJ'Pt! ll~. w:as nul ui this nunel)eJ't a:-.
Nomwn Gcr..s ba:r. arr:a.•ed , M;;n: hc&d firml)·lhf'l)l.lght.lUI hi" w,:ork rna
concept of humln nature. and was quite risht to do so.41 1 (f Manl'
suruetiu u:s Stt:tu.-. lu regiltd hulllau IJ(J •,.,,.~r:. ~ ut~uiYt)ClliJ)' I)OSt tive,
he docs not consider rhem infinitely trM.'j:formablc:. h is mistaken 10
bclie\·t: lhat Ihe illt:;, fl(' :l. h uman ualu!'t is ifahen:f1Lly fea(;liOtb!'y. h is
tniC: th:tt ir ha$ c.)fic:n (nnugh hr.c'!n us.~ I for such .::nds; hm it hao; alsc-1
prO'-'ed in ils time a revolutionuJ rallying cry, as the reacLMlnary
puwcrs un:u .. Pl!,o-ftrer.mh-c:c•nlllty F:ururu! l•~ntecl lfl rh•;r oN. T here:
i.s oo rca90n to s~• pposc that a dcniat of the infini1c plutici~· of hum:~l)
bein1,rs. or of tht utter relativity of their cuhurcs. cntads an assertion
of their r~i<.J uu:tbt!ntiJilily. ~u nel~ss:uy t:tuniiJrt i~ ~iva:11 b) Lhill
bdicf to the \'arious rc actiona~· brands of biolo:gism or other more
me1aphysical notions of a static h.uman nature. Paradoxicall)·, a
ctnain upt:u -t:mJeJnc:>s ant.! trunsiUn.uahility is pan ul our nuture:-o,
builr iniO what W(' arc; tbin rhc human animal i$ able- co 'go 1)::-yond",
make something crea1ive :and unpredictal>Jc of what nl:lkes it, is the
 cnnditiun of histt.nidty ancl th(' OOOS('()UCOCe oi <1 (Jac\(' in our
b~ log:ic.tl structure >A'hich culture. if we nc to s·ut..,Ne at aU~ laas at all
cos:s to lUI. Dul such cn:01tive :idf·!Ualiug is <:arricd mu wirhin ~;,.;.;.._•n
Hmirs, v.hkb sre tinaUy tbQ~<' of rhc body itself. Hunun .soc:i e ~es. b)·
virtue of the biologk:.&J SlJ'ucttu-e of that bl)dy1 :ill ueetJ tu erag:.g~ in
:;ofnc limn ul l.ah<•ur athl surnc kind uf :;t·:mal rcprnd\1crion: :til human
beings require w1rm1h, rest, oourishmcnt and shrlter. omd .:;.re
ille\•il:tbly implit.Jtt:d by 11te nao:L:L'l'>"illit~ u f laf1u11r :mtl !)CII'tl.1fil)' in
\'11ri04.1S fOrms of 50t.'il1i association: the r t gub.1on of whirh wt nan~
the political. llum:1n soc:ety is in this ~ensc natural. even if aU
IJOU'Ii(·ula.r .'i• !t:'i t'li~ IU'~ arteflftls. All human hc:in~" a n: IN!iJ, murtn1
and ll('Cd)', ~·ulner-ablc to suffering and death. The fact that these
tr.ms.hi~toriC<~J trutlHi a1t a:w a,~~. ..::uhuully "rlecifi~:, :tlw:aY!' '':tn:tbly
ins.1an1iau:d, is tl •J ar;~·u m M~r a~ainst r:hdr wr.m :;hisroricaliq· For a
materialist, it is these p.uticular biclosically detc:-rmintd (;)1..\S whtch
h:1ve su f:t r hulkl:d l1rgt:s1 in the NJ ntsr. of h11111:11n hiSJory, and ha\'to set
their imprint upon whu. ln a narrower sense. we can cultun:.
Dccausc: human bejng:s arc \l't-itk and unpt"olectel.i, especiaU.v in
their iufanq-. lh\.'1' art: in hiul111~i<:~~l ucctl t•l 1he ..:are antJ •~rnmi tmal
$\Jitcnsnc·c: of others. It is here, ~s Freud rccogniu :d. lhat the fir&t
gliuuuCJ'i.tlg~ tll fltclr.tlity d.t t: 10 1.~< fi1und) i:1 1ht: mau:rially cun:j•:ts·
sif.iMU.' bonds br;,.·c<:n rbc )·oung and their t ldcn. 'f;l('{' and '·\·:due'.
bioloficaUy essential practi<:c4 and d1'ccti-orwc fd low-fcdin:g, 3rc not
tl i~sfjci;.bW in the ' pre-hiSJ:ory' of human in..-Ji,tidunls. S•.tct. compas-
sion a t~ feeling, however, has tQ Stroggle hard iD the C'()urse Q( (lUI'
peo.:uJ)a( .wd histor ical de,·elopn:aenL ag;.iJ)SL a wl!ole r:t.OQe {Jf
rhrcaa:niug fiujur:s - nul n11 l ~·. if Fre ud is In he hdit \'<:d, llfY!iR:->1 n•tr
originary Olg,-esSi\•cocss :tnd bostilitj'1 but a(so against the harsh
cuHilitimts impusc."tl by 1l1e ut>ed LLJ \Jhuu1. :md d u: u .mOict and
OOmin iltion which 11ris•· wtu;n the a(lpropriarion or a surr.lu:r. fl'(lm the
frui ts of tbat Ja'~ur la~·s: down the. conditions (or d.us·s()C'id)'. Our
:-.h:t.red m.:&fl:: ri.:~l~:rn • ilil u'n s hin d u~ iiJt:lut.:t:.bl) lub~tlu:r. ami in Wins
so open ~· P the pnssibilirics Qf friendship ;uvl lov•:; n is nnt ncc~ssary
to argue in a nodeu agt th<'lt friendship it.nd bio.logie.\J ;u~h·al go
hand m band. th.it we musr. as t\udeo pull jt, *lm·e OllC anolloer or
die'. tim the hisrory we mno;t ~Jh·e. hy '.'tn ur. of nur biohltf1Cal
strocnu·t: .\ho divides 11; and thntsts m i~to ('.tltnhywith Ol\t :tJ'IOthtr.
Comruunicanon. undcnbndins . a certain reciprDcity are e&:sentW for
ou r m:~ tr.ri:'l l survival, h111 can a1Wl}'S be t-h:plnyed f•.- the purptl!>es nf
 PltOM nt£ 1'0/./S TO POSThiODERNISM

oppression :and exploitation. The bnguagt which releases us from tlle

monotony of a purely biological existence also weakens tlle intm-
specilic inhibitions whicb conslnin our mutual dcsrructivencss. If we
are to sun'h·e aJ .U, It is n<cesury that w separare ourselves to some
extent frotn Nature in order to control and regulate its threats to our
existence: but the same gesture opens up • distance between abe self
and others, which Is JOt once !he ground of all gtnulnt rebtlooship
and the possibility of exploitation. The autonomy of the other is at
once lhc condition of creative relationship, and a source of violence
and insecuril)'.
Work, sexuality mel sociality an bring with them the possibility uf
gratification. The pleasurc of the small baby is at first insepanble
from the satisfaction of biological need. Out just as, for Freud, sexual
desire is born as a kind of swer.in( awwy from such instinctUal need,
so in the course of social development tlle processes of pleasure and
fanasy come to separate themselves nut tn a certain extent from !he
fuUilling of material W1111ts, in the pheDO<Ilenon we know as culture.
Once the economic surplus pmniu, a minority can be released from
labour to enjoy such culture as an end in itself, in dis.<aeiatinn fl'(lfll
the exisencies of labour, Se>.'Ual reproduction and political regulation.
' Value', in this sense, comes 111 distinguish itself from 'fact', and
finally comes to deny its roots in material practice altogether. This
culture is often •'IJOOIIh •-mpl<l)!<'<i as an C>CajX: from or sublimation of
unpalatable nece<dty, and as a m..ns of mystifYing and legitimating
it.: but it Clln also oll'er " prefigurntive imagt of a social condition in
which >-..:h plcasunblc creativity !Jti&ht b<'COIDC 1\-ailabk in principle
to aU. The pofitical struggle which arises at this point is between those
who wish to divert !he fore.,. uf production to the end uf allowing
soci:tllife to become a gratifYing end in itsdf, and those who, ha.U.g
much tn lose from tim prospect, ...mt it by \iolence and manipulation.
In the service of this IIWI.ipulation, certain aspects of culture can be
~ted so as to rede6nc the concepts of power, law, freedom md
subjectt.iey in ways which COtltribute 10 the maintenance of the given
soci:tl system. A conflict accordingly sets in between two opposiog
notions of the aesthetic, one figuring as an image of emancipation, the
adler as ratif)ing domination.
The idea of human nature, or 'species beinJ' as Marx calls it,
moves on the froctier between foct and value. Needs which blll1W1
beings hne IS an essential put of their biological nature - for food,
+11
shelter, assoduion, prmecrion from injury and so on - con ~e as a
norm of political jt.ldgemeot and pruclice. Tiaat something is a fact of
our natuJe, however, docs not of tolli'Se entail that its fullilment or
etactment Is auto1112tica1Jy a value. And there t< much in the way tbat
we have historically developed which is clearly not desirable, "" the
problem of r:vil anests. E,·~ is noc simply a maner ofimmorality, but of
an acrlve, '<ldi.<tic delight in 'human misery and destroctiou which
apparendy indulg.:s in such destruc1iveoess as an end in itself. One of
the rnosr mind-sbaldng aspects of the Nazi cona:ntntion camps is
that lhey wue entirely unneces'<lry, and indeed from me N:u.is' own
rnilitary and economic viewpoint counterproduclivc. Evil is re-volted
by the vcty sight ohirtue, unable to see truth or meanitlg as anything
but pretentious shams ,.;th. -..·bich human beings patheticaRy conceol
from themsdves the uRer vacuousness of their <Xisteuce. It is thus
closely related to cynicisnr, a mocking cackle at tlle high-minded
claptr.lp of hWD311 idealism. Fortunately, evil is an extremely rare
coodilion, outside lhe upper edlelons of fascist organizations; but
in its strangely autotelic cha.racter it has an unnerving affinity ,.;th
~aesthetic. II shares with the aesthetic • cutain low estimate of the
utiliwian; and this may be one reason why we should approecb the
doctrine of aurotelism rather more cautiously than we might
otherwise be Inclined 10 do. ·
The idea of a human nature does not suggest that we should realize
any capacity which is natural, but that the highest values we <an
realize spring from part of our narure, and are DQlarbitnry choices or
constructs. They are not natural in the sense ofbeing olwious or easy
to come by, but In llle Jensc that they arc bound up with what we
materially are. If we do not riVe in such a way that the free self-
rulization of each is acbicvcd in and through the free self-realization
of aU, then we are veey likely 10 des1r0y oursclvc.s as a species. Such a
formubtion mO\es, of oourse, at on extremely high level of
abstnclion, and will tcU us nothing about what such terms as ' free'
and 'aelf~relllization' signifY in any acrual histori<al context. Ali far as
that is eonc.-d, the Habennasian On$\\"'r is that we simply have to
talk it uver. Coocrete ethical life, Hegel's SinlitMrtil, means
negc>eiadng and reneaodating, from one specific situation to another,
what suclt an ilhstnu:t injunclion could possibly mean, with aU the
intense political conflict that this entails. It also means critically
scrutinizing the whok conc:qn of 'self-realintion', based "" it bas

412
 FROM n!F. /'OfJS TO POSTMODERNISM

hlstoric:illy been on a clearly inadequate productivism. The tenn

' sell-fullilment' suggests, perllaJ>$, Jess of an incessant activism.
The fuUcst instance of free, ~ciproal self-fullilment is tradition·
ally known as Jove; and there are many individuals wllo, as far as the
personal life g-oes, have no duubt that this way of tife represents the
highest hunun value. h is just that they do not see the need, method
or po•sibility uf <xtending this value to a whole form of sudal life.
!Udical politics addresse.< the question of what this lo¥c would me:~n
at tile level of a whole sociel)', as sexual morality tries to clarify what
counts as love in sexual relations between individuals, and medical
ethics trie~ to define what counu al\ love in the cau nf our tteatmcnt
of bodies which an: suffering. It is because love is a highly vexed,
obsl:urc and ambiguous topic that such ethital clis<:oune.s arc
necessory in the first plac.:. Modem ethi<::~l thought ha• wreaked
unwltl damage in i!S false assumption that Jove is fir.il of aD a p<rsuual
:UTair rather man a poUticaJ one. It has f:olled to take Arlstode's point
that etllics is a hranch of politic.•, of the que;tion of what it is to live
well, to attain happiness and serenity, at the level of a whole sociel)'.
One consequence of thi• blunder is that it ;., harder than it might
otherwise have been to achieve l011c C\lcn at an intcrpcrsonallcvd . A
materialist ethics holds that when we anain to this highest value, we
are enacting tbe best possihilitit>s of our n•ture. Sucil an ethics is
acstbctic, concerned with pleasure, fuUilment, creativity; but it is not
.esthetic In the sense of tnldlng in intuition, believing "'' it docs that
the most rigorous analysis and discussion are needed if wbat counts
as these values is to be adequately formulated. It Is also not aesthetic
in so far as it holds to the nectl$$ity of instrumental political action to
bring such •aluc:s aboot, and in so lilr as it recognizes tltat in this
process the forgoing of pleasure and fulfilment is sometimes
necessary.
The aesthetic is preoccupied among other things with the relation
be""en particular and unh>ersal; and this is also a manor of great
imponance to the ethico-political. A materiaTh>t ethics is 'aesthetic' in
thot it begins ~>'ith concrete panicularity, rating iu rutting-point from
the actual needs and desires of individual human being.•. But need
•nd desire are what rt:ndcr indhiduals non-identical with themselves,
the mediwn in wblcb they are OJ>ened out to • world of others and
objects. Tbe panicular fr001 which une begins is not a self.identity -
a point which traditional acstbelics, in its eagerness to banish desire
from sensuous concretion, is unable to appreciate. This particular
indi\idual is self-tnnsgT"essi-ve; desire spri.ngs to bitth th.rough our
material impticarion with oth=, and su will finally give rise lO
questions of reason and justice, of which and whOJe desires should be
realized and which constrained. It also gives rise to the question of the
education and transfonnation of what desires we have, whil:h ties at
the cc:ntre of a radical politics. The lncouant proceu of arguing aJJ
this belongs to the public spben, in which aU individuals must have
equal participatol)' rights whatever their distinsuishing particularities
of work, gender, race, interests and so on. The indiY!d.W particular is
thus raised to the universal. It is at this point, in effect, that bourgeois
liberal thought senerally halts, di:K"overing a grave problem in the
h!:atus then opened up between this nece&Sarily abstncr universality,
and the concrete particularily of all individwok. IUdical thought,
however, carries this process one stage further. For the firual purpose
of our univenality, of our eq.W rights to paMicipate in the pubtic
definition of meanings and values, is that the unique panicularirles of
individuals lilly be m.pet1ed and fulfilled Particularity returns again
at a 'blghcr' le\'el; difference must pass through Identity if It is 10
come into its own, a · position disastrously abandooed by much
contemporary tlJeOI)'. It is not a matter of what Raymond Williams
calls a 'miliwn particularism' - of those currently categorized as
'other' - women, foreigners, homosexutls - simply demanding
reOOf!Rilion for vhat they ""'· What is it to 'be' • woman, a
homosexual, a native of lrdand! It is true, and important, that such
excluded groups wiD already have d.,.eloped certain styles, •alues,
life-""!'<riences whil:h can be appealed to now as a form of putitical
cririqyc, and which urgently demand free e.pression; but the mon:
fundamen141 political ques1ion is that of <kmanding an eq.W right
..Wth otbers tu dis<::<M!r what une might bt'come, nut of assuming some
already fully-fashioned idt:ntity which is men:ly repn:ssed. An
'opposlrlonol' identites are In pan the function of opprtMion, as well
as of resistance to that "''PftSSion; and in this sense what ooe might
become WII!Dt be simply rem off from what one is now. The
privilege of the oppressor Is his privilege 10 dedde what he llh:tU be; It
is tbi.• right which the oppress<:d must demand too, w!Jicb must be
univenalizcd- The universal, then, is not some realm of abitl'act dury
set sternly against the partieular; it Is lust """!)' iodivld.W's eqll21
right to have his or her difference respected, and to participate in the

4-14
common proce!s whereO,y thar ~ be ~ie\'ed. Identity is to this
eoent in the st.l'\'ice of non-identity; btu wl1hou1su(:h il.h:nrity, no r~;~al
oon-idenrity c.tn be atbincd. To :teknowlcdge someone as a subject is
11 once to gr.mt them the s:.u nr. sl:t.IU!> as uu t'sdf, :ami LO re;.:ugnit.l!
their oth<"mc:;s aDd auconom)'.
ln the pursuit o;' this political goal1 the.re an~ meanings .and values
P.mbedded in the tnuiitlun of rhP. ae:->rh~ lic which :trP. of vi1:.l
bnportancc-* .1nd d!~roe ue others witk'h are dir«fed towards th('
deft:iltil\g of thou gc;.al, and which u1ust therefore be chaUenged ollld
~rctmle. T he t ~t ht-t ic is in thil> l>enr.e a markedly contrncHcrorr
concept, to whicb ooly a dia.lc<'tical thought Cin do suf6cicat justic-e.
O:te uf lht: JJIOSI dd tilitati!l§ e1Tt!t.1S ur U!Ut:h (;uh urJJ l.ln:ury !11 the
prt.sent rime has been th<- loss or rcicction oi that dildr.c:rkal h11bil.
wbich c.an oow be: safely <;<msigned to the mct.aph)'$ical ashe an. There
are now, to porndy the cnse n tinle1 those who would i!PJ!I!:lr to bflieve
that some lime aro~.m d 1970 (or W.J$ i1 with Saussurd) \I.'C $Udcknly
ffil kt up to the fuel th;at aU of the oid discourses of re;a.-.un, u-uth.
frer.dnm and ~uhjecfivi ry were: ~h alt.'a'ed, and thai 'o\' f could n<'lw
move excitedly into something else. This le~p ("''m hjstor') to
lll(nkmity b.as :l lmq; hi!-.1o)ry. Tht: dihl(.""tnJrst:s uf rc:Nm, rmth,
frctdom ar,d snbjccrivily, as we h:wc inhC"rited thC'm, incked rtquirC'
profou nd b"ansform:~tio;m_; but it L-s unlike!)· thai a politic$ which docs
nut tal:r. rht-:o;e traOirlonal tup~ \looi Th full serim•sness \\i ll prov~
resourC"eful and resilient enough to oppose the an oga.nce ot.. p~·er.

l 1"J:c d-ssic I('I:Ount of dtc 1\\'D!lt 911\"k is no-N surely P.:tcr BUr~c r, Tlu(}7
ttl1/u Ar.¥4nt· G11rJf: (M.andtt!iJ~ O"'nd Minnt:apolis. I Q$4').
! r·r~noo M()r('tti, S.;n; Ta~ f/1 w_,~,-!.'f'S (Lond~n. l9S3), cbpttr 7.
3 Pc:rcr Ocws {td .),_.1!.~'" H:zbnru,w A~ti(M()r.~r and S.,fiJnn'ty (London.
19Mi. r· 2l14.
+T a n)· Bo:umt, 'T c:xtoi in hisrOI)': rhr; rlr:rr.nninarkmJ (I( telldings ~ nd tbdr
l~Q.b', iJ• U. Auridge, U. Bcnninr;um and R. Yfluntt t:rch), P:m-
SrtMurllhJu: und tAt !liU'UJ.Wt ~ J-.lklnzy (Cl!r'lbrldge, I Y!t7), r· lib.
S See Ita,'dcn Whirc) 'llc Politi~.:) t~l Hi~luri~.:otl bno:rpn:tatioc1: Discipline
md Ot-S ublimillati:OI\', 1n \\'. J. T. Mtu.:hdl (ed.), Tlu P::ii:it:f. t1r
lnr"P"I&li4n (Qi~ 1983).
f. Por ar. e ~o:tdlt.n t 5tudy of t..mis .'\.lth~S«. S<<: Gfcg<~l) Elliou. A'ff/ur.w ,,.,.

i iS
 Tiu l)n..w 11}' 1'1!(1·11J (l.o:.tlon, 1987), SC'r also T 00 Bcnv.on, 'fb~ Riu ami
f~!( t{Srru;mr~l :Wom:iJ"' (l.ctr:.rlr.n, I QR4).
7 Sc;e Jiil);..:n t-NbcnllliS, '11:t P!si!r..s;.'})ld.-af Dlf(Ct"'!•' t;J Aft...-i.•l'lfi.) (\.am-
britlg<, 1987), p. 270.
8 Ptt.::J 01:'o';;., ~/n '.{IJnir;re~r~u·IRl (L•Judou, J\187), p. 117.
9 QuO«:d iu Miclud W:dbl;l, ' Tit..: Polil"-'., vfl\W~e:l F'Ot~~;:auh' , 111 D. C.
J loy (cd.], FrmW~ll , A C•111~J fl1'¥Jtr (011for..!1 1986), p. bl .
10 Ch~dt!l T01.)l\l1. 'Fvuc;~ uh un fn:~:.:..h.Mn :mJ lrutlt'. u1 flniii'JI!f.li,) 11.rrd Ji'u
1/JmWJ Sot?Jm: l'h~.4rcfll P~{m'$ ) {Cunbti4~t, 1995).
11 See ~5 . /."f,i~ fJ{ D4 in.ttt,'fMii~J,, p. 181.
12 Quol1"4 in J loy, fo t,.t(ITIIlt, p. tO.
13 bn Hxki~ 'Sclf-llapr<:w.:mc:nt', i ~ H<ry, l'o:l.·rmlt.
J4 Sec lloy. F()r,mu!t, p 22.
IS Mirb.cl f (.)IUO'Iuh, :Uo1dnt1S :r..,J Civilii.ui~ {l..ondoa, 1973), p. 1)1.
16 c~ ..,to:-d in H<~y. f'ba."C.J-11~. p 112.
I j M irhrl f~uh, 11u Hi;Mfjl </ St:tJMh'':t. t'<lhrlff( : : iiu Us~ t!{ Pf«Js:.rr
{New 'r'ort, 1981'1), (t. 27, All ~t• b~(JII CrH rcfcr;.."fll."'('$ to t.hi$ v.·o rt wiiJ b.-
gt..('f'l p<~.n:nth c~rt.~.d ly ttl the 1{':<1.
IS Jt::tn- Fr:'l n~is l.j'OI:'Ird 111nd Jr.:tn- l ..r,up Tt!~bu d. ].11zt t:.11Nmg (Mir.n¢!1-
pulbo, )\J85), pp. ] +- J5. .'\JI :iU~'»>.'QU I:nt rt-!'C!Cnt:e> Ul tbr. Wrlfk 'II.til he
t;i\'t.'D p.U'CnthKa!ly in lt'ol.' ICU.
19 .\li~hel 1-'uu\::wh, ' OI1 tln: ~Cllt:a.l'llt;y uf tlbil..":~', iu flaul N.;b irt!Wt' t:cd.).
T.l:-r. Fl.•1m.•1Jff Rauk1 (New Yllfk: 193-f). pp•.3-49- 50.
1IJ S(:C Otu)f. T utma's .Jj).,;u~iou of Lhi) poi11l ill hi> ,if,yr.:rirm and
Ci;ru(laml)' (O,.,rur\1. 1'133•. p. 86.
! J IOid, p. 113.
n l~Jil.l. 1:•. as.
23 Sec Jiirgtn l h)~ tmas. Ltthi,utui4iN Crill!. <Do.oit-:m. 19i5).
21 Jl.:t.:!' Dews (cd.), iii~tt~ HabmNU: ; 111/QIJO)"!)' " " ' So)/J"J.,,;!)·, p. ; II .
2s lt>td, t · n .
26 Ibid, p. IS5.
27 Sce ji!rgt:n Hahrtm:O"-, ?'f.t 'nml)' u{Co.tmlfMiv·;u*.·.- ..t,·:!-.11, l'Oitm:C 1:
R~:.$(:.'1 s.,J W R..<Jl;,,,lif&~t1Wfl ~·s_,,.;,.ry (8.:osto)n, l CJM_), C'h'JIIC"r 6.
28 j\lrgt:n Habenna."' 1A Rt:ply w my CriliCS"', in john R. Thnmfl:onn and
t>:l\:d H eld(~,.'\!!>), Nat>.<m:::t: <:ri!i!8i f)•m. (J.andlm, 19X2). p. ZJIJ.
29 l_!uu1.::d in ' I h0111oa.S M\:C.::..uh)', 'll:r l... '" )i,!Jf Hrw,y IJ}',?iiw•: H~<Hnrtaf
(l o.,:lon, J978), p. liJ.
3(1 .')('(' Fr.:l/.rk .f~ mc sor.. Tl:t IV!if'ff.v•' Un•o,:;riw$ (l.ondoll, 198lj, p. 291.
3 1 R~nnf}r,d Willhuns• .U.(Jt/M !' 1M,q.~· (London! 1966). p. 1':6.
32 Qumc.-d in J).::•o~r.s. Jkli.l"f Hahmwa.o: .·lllto)N~mJ' ~rul .'WUJ.m':), p. .~ 1.
.U S('¢ lhld . p . 17<1.
J-1 ll>id.• v. m.
416
 FRO~I THl: f'OLIS TO POSTMODE&NISM

3S For an cxccll<nt cridqllt of non-cognitiviM clhic., '"Sabina Lmibond,

R..,... ar.J Imadlf41i"" in Ellria (Orlord, 1982).
36 Sec Se,Ja Bcnhabib, Crllifll<. Nomr. ••I U"Pla (1\ew York, 1986),
cbop1er 8, for a \'aluable summary o( !he critical eontrO';ersy _ ,
wlivt:rSul pragrhalit:s. Sec al:;c, the~)'$ by R. Bubncr, T. MtCanhy,
H. Onm:rnn, ]. B. Thoml""• and S . Lakes in john B. Thompson ond
David Hdd (eds.), H * ' -: Crili"'l ~.
31 Sec Dew., l"'fi"' ofDiliiiUQOiitm, p. 20.
38 Turner, Narmm 4Rd C~ristilllfiiJ, p. 119- 20.
3~ McC•nb)l, Tit< Crilil'lll 7hto'J'I/]ii'l'" H4Nrmdl, p. 308.
40 NonnaJ1 Gens, Mar.r andHIJJII•• Nanff<: Rt/illmion ofo Lcgrr.d (London,
1983).

417
 Index

~·xd,nl!, ><t Jo.t t:~, A~()lu te; rtasr.l\. !h:o> l 4'i - S!: ill fc..~t:nAt :m.: •r 1-k>Jt.
1 1111~: )!lllim~. 1!:.: I ~J - ~. in L:ruud J98
llho..Jiuri ll'l'l, ....oln ll'::.l 11• I'\, HI-'.:0. ~J-+, a vmt )t)'" .l.: -..1 Jill, j~ 1 , ji'l- )II. i iO-\
11)), 11!:, i $i.l~ll.2S l - 2.,JI!-I\ -'.' .li .l,.>Fl d <iil
AlklrM.1'. W : Qnd .t.r lt$ti-..ctk I,
9'1~ 100. ;HI - ("* 3i1J-1, 371, -1(11. :u.d & Jduin, M>Uo.a 1•), 1!'3. 2~<4, ~J 7, J.U,
fknJA""'IO J~ j 0 )2•~- 3;
,l f , !; (>1'1 ( (>IT(q>( ]6) - ~. T.'&
3 +2 ;, Ul; t ">d t·; ~ttllltl~n J-12.. 3¥.-, &Me>, Rdntd ; , ;r.~
J~; .li~J,,.,-u~,..,. ·z1;.,
2•1-1. J•s.
1;;1. h•$1.' amJ W!l\'>~'tll\'!"''t' W, 14$-9,
~nd fo~ r.i.m 3SIJ-9; on u...;..oeoul ,and 2l3- .f, 24l- :;., 1:5!1- 9, H I, P ~ -<>
purie.1l1t .HS- i, J!!.l f.. .~~2: .,. ~., ff.<i,,,.l'l• •t l', C:l!.rtrii 118, .l!i, .us. .1~1
b-:d)'. Cl.'t'lll!h.l.: COirotnod!l'j: ~OR!~;" lc · 8;n•t~a.rn>n. JIIf~:~rtdtiiJ, l! - 1 7, 1,,,.,,
IO:m, ('Jl'-': ln:«..ttJI; lti"'J"'• onJwri•i!.•••~ 6.!. 116, ) \IIi. 1.,7. :O:v J. " H), 'UJ
ol:jcdil.iry: phi.h-.OTpf'l) '; fl"Airlt\; ffA.;()fl: Or.'t..ll,.<;.wu:d ll,.ill •.i~7..\"ii), ~li.l
~!Y: w.:c: 90~~ s-lltct& ' !Jff-!rini B::nbJbl/1, S()l~ ~ l. ·l•l'l'
:ontloo..'liu ¥! bwr~:r~n,.M.'1J!II 3; Uri!Uo 6enia01in. ',\ aluT: ._. atldl\·•i•·, ~ li,.-.)?,
!J'Jdici ~n J I , I J6, ~otA·cl'li JI:0- !• 3, a3- J9, :li.J, :&::- ... 37<4, Mll<k~ ")t:l·
.>wl ,t,.k-'~ 11,\ - ·1, t l ' ; f~m· ~"'<: on ~t )n. ~,1.5 - I>, (in rit-•..
l•.uor.n
Iii, ~S. SS · 9. 112, llS - 17. IH J 23 .14. ll? -S. ~ il: wU,:It IS~; on
J7a..9, 2S7, ~ u. (.ta,,,..,..",.J,(iv.. lit., ·"'-"!J.,,.!~ 165, ,,. mn~n i( >I
.. li ;,.....,~s. u)-11. ·Ml-1, 61- ; , ""· l'l:p-«<,~ctot;r. U, -$. ~>!->: •'a f1 ohl'"'
94 5, qt; . Hlil., 1.11i; rnar~n•linn~ta l'filiiJ~!e it: ~~~ !.ub' x tio.l :)' 331: f.U ;~!;,)
Jc; -I: r.~o; Hnc: in :.., s~ . 116- 1: . #llll!n:at on~ .:JOfllici~n; cm•n•:oJn~: ''UM•
?:11, ·J:..-. - >.1>~. •(h ...,l l.'!' '" ' J~(l - 1 11 "'"~' , O'(O ' tr Ooo •'•or.•,lo " ''"')• ho!"'l"'~ ,,,
.:t ~·'Xi•l .:ritiqu:: 118-J•) IN toi,la~~: : mtU'Iinr.: f.btfe~~ie): f\U!t·
a;;PTs:,io.t'n ;~~. in Fr~:J Z?l) J, :!·7& 7. ceo;: tirr.e
9..:nt>o.1'- 'f..,,.. Jb'l
""
~l"'r•nr.n "Jl . •WI, •• Kr!~_,.m, ,. .i:lJ,
~7-8: tnllt!4kJJ: r294. 30 1 : n~IA""­
Hrn •l>••r~ J ~mr !}!, 11.7
Ofna w r.tsm,o« ualh'li~.:1~m
','1)(,. .! I '1, :0:;( I ; O.o 'lirf,., lo... 'l!ii "' lk~~~~i I ~· ~?1 -'!., i!'#~
Scl-. llk 'Mr 16 1, J!JS Rki\:.t. Wi!lillm J!·) , I!>S, l 4-+
dii:JUI)· lU·- :. JJ:!- 4, :u!, J36 bwly ; . !C.~ ~ 1(1, 13, I 'i, J<o~. -l!fi. -4 hJ: o.,
.ur•,.-.v_,., l ''"'' 2.., 19, 'II, 5~ ..l~. ;18;, ,._,.,.,,... H .l - +; J llof t tWlr..' 'l. in lk11·
J~· l -2: oe thOOt)' 87- 8. lt6 a:
jc:Jia 3J1 - In t't..-,1...1';: ilt l '~'-"
ukt-..u !10. 9i. !41, U. U.2- ~. 211. :!lH - ~, .).1$, ;,. o.kiill~~~
'\""('I..!,fot~ ~ 11 J.6.,.JAA!>2,2(>J l 4l -~. 1"1!.· in " '~''''pard I?!; JIO<I
Auden, W. U. 2:2 . .;)I) • ~nlil'i !C•-1. a:~ . 33-.z. 1.: w~~­
2• t•r.0111y: :niCI:.C'-tdll·•i« l'• 9. 2J • .:., l~"'~ :!3-f.-6. :!!ih. !c.:., :..'(,4: w ..tw
21 - fl, .~. i I, '?I · 2, ')')- JO:l, brill ~ 70, "'' 1"''1..,...., , ho>ll•l, ,.,,,,,.,.,.,.._rn
H11tkl. h:l•x•d ZS4 Jt~ in ,\Ibn ns-i; ill "'l~~d:o: 235.
Hl!•~itu,t'k• n: ~mJI )Jil"l. 'l hi11 1% 'l 4(o: i•1 ::id•~lli11~ b l, 13•.
I J.:O, I U: i,
...,.. ,. ...,.•~,..,. Ru~h ;;!i - ; , .n - <4! , ill- I, ~IIJlautr I 70-l; w. ....~ \llnwl~£""
fi(- .3: (;~rr.WI I.J- IS. 1•- 2tA. lL$1. Cohen. G. A. 216- 17. Zlll
2.fi -3; ir. ,\\.an _,:, :! 1:1: ~~~·ttl~'l.t u! lj- ~: t.:oh~'ll. , .,. ~nd (ju, .,.r, 1'~111 !13
""" ·"" <>op• lllovn, 11'11'1\lt:~ !'.:ol ~£".fa. T. ll. (t(l lll_l ll\, .\1'>9
8 -,;tt.l. lbthO~-d &. ~~ -.t.. 3J·I, Wt. ~-t9. ~(ll·:fll.dbr. ~' 1- 1
J•)!, J?:, 31$ V.ll 'lll.,..,.itAW·· (J..-S. 24(1
IJ.v,.n. 1'\o 'f\'IM• U. 11? >:O<''omo.:.il)': n ,\dc>m ~ 341! _-,, J51 • .-1 .t$
H· ..i•tu-. • IJ,.,"ffl'l' unS&o,)(l-'lltll ul.'f ()•.V.k. J ir• ,,. flo..n;.,.,;.. 9l, lj: 1.
~~ 11-13. ~20. 32!-S. SZ0-1, 33.i: it'!
162-k ·~'
t:.rrl..c-, t:Jn•"J !i>- ?, Ui,IJ l , ;:.;";, Jr•··~ t. o6.in 16- ; , n.--&. i• r.m. :!llj,
o:n u•r.r.-'1\' ;;1\ +l l,i, <4~, ~~- ;, ,;..., ~~ 2fi1-lJ, !11, ~U. 210,1+1, ,l.N~ on
en r!t--1•:H;f M.lfl s: M9. U. -~•.];, rcv.modL•nilm2, JH- i
...~ou.. ~. tht: u :olll.'. lt.')..."fcoli..: >:IKtll<lfllli~:m : 111 llri!PI!•• Hll: in }l.bn.
II ,,!~(, Jo •k~h t,} 2(<1 . lr~i.ll~. ( li, ~!.~
~~f.«. ~nd rclitv 1!1).313-6
lllpir.Jbm· .md l:.mr!.'l.'Oi ~ i:lo:<rk!;Y (II. UJ, Connolii'.Jou nr:) li
iJ -~, ~n . 2-41, 2.,; , ~<~~~-: · J7J, ~~~~ <!>'"'" ..'""''· "'J.',n.J ~' ;, :O..i.,lw,;lo..:
''"'"1"'' 1 111, IO,X:-'J,l!'lh, } II, !;;.~ 101: 'JJI{.- ~ ~ . :: ~J.. >S-1- $
t:n: lll il ;1: illl''n~ud Z.i l: C<rl1tCI ~lll'<;l'n!.U'; 17, ;.;,<.•1! <J. I H 1 ~. Ul
J•JS-10, n Mm 1'1'1- ZI.II. :oo- i , 1\:Z.. liJ, J 54. ~~;~ :llld ~'01;'101•:1 55-~
lttl- 1 ~. Hi-~ 1 . Ul,l . ..ll, ~.-.; lii'K' ;., l l qr~-t H >-~;. 1 5 1 , i" u .....:: ..,.J. ••
:il i . H5: mor'Y.lpO:;o:ilit--18. ~!()...l. I' ani '.i"'-;, It~. loti, +l'r.l: in mar•lil!'
:m. H9. Jsl , .3>~ - C!. 3~. 31-f- s. :.11, Sti -<,l:.m:I"Jit;zsclte:i:5.f ~.!:.~:in
u' 1\o' l:'(hr } +l - \ III>,~II'Wt"'~"' )'•~. ;., $fl, ~n 1(>4
Cu~k. Tltorn~ 6:: «<!'.~h'!br-t~u. •II!'. \drom.,, T W.: Bmiam:n,
,·.en-1"111. r11 B..,.,, .. JJ:1. no Yl11lter
C.a.io r •, l•.(ou.C 2-4, ~2, ':..: ~"' ur:oJio.tivo• in l!dvt~t :• JSl. ;,. u1•il.!d~" '
f.·:t:•ll, l l .......,...lll t. 'l ll, ;: lfJ, :'tl-';. ;,.. !.'ro:vd UJI, l "0. l'tJ.
ltl.mrt-. ll'!d nett!tiily .il 7- 111. J!~ !'".I'M!, Rt-n«<~ I i
li'l iliJ~!i•• oIV' ( ',> iJ J.!ICbf\ ..:llltu i: ~~t~.~nc~ ~(9, 54): b·~~~~'Jt(ll.;
·····I ;o•or oN~ u... ,.,\ i~ i l(•. ~.......... ~ ,.. 3/!• 5: ~:~,oi! IIIO:IoJiltl,,'~\io;" r,.f- ) , t:'•• ~W.,I,;j•
11J - i(•. !0!•: .m:l (C!I\JI't >ii) - i :
II. I nmri1M-.. :;; .,I:rwud 1f.<t-:;: " '
rn !triH:>. z,·,.1, 2:ti ~. Z1J..
Frl'\1 ~
ll!p:l H!. 1''· : ~a: •n ~•"·211J.u:
l'it. -1, ;I!J, ;,l ! ~"'"' 1-1(·-11, l:ll-, 2\)Q, NI~""~bt ZJK 2SB: in S..!till~r 109-; 1,
!II llcidt ~r m.
1. .\ .m! it.. R.;, Ill, II?, """l <o4t w) •••'Y .fl . ?1-1\,
140 1, i1~; Ill \t.r. !OJ ... !OY 10: 111- 12.. I IS -~. 37~. ·Ill: ,.:'II!SIIIt~ o 3.
. J ..,,.wo~lif! 11.1-U.,~U- .ll ,CJ- ~. II i , IC•J
'" S,.fo,f'''""'"''' l o'o"(, I ?J: •·~· ,..,\..,. """''• 't:...luort '"'h:l s.xo.-~? 11'~4ilh01' Z
• II ~o:ori : l!' ,.,,..,,..,... :oNI lo ·" li( U., b\, .il, \It, f, l, XI;
d'l!>~ ' !ICill. .rru.l M".lb;dc.·, Ill: i:I~'Ctlo!fY ill "J~U!d'o!' 23.S. Z.H: :1~ N~OO 22..
l--1. hi - \, i~ - 1., • 1\t.,, ll(o-: t-r) o~.;, -HI. Hi
JIS.1 - I. 111 mtlo!(nl l ~tl p:•lilio;" S- 3, IOZ:
!n '·'•ili a'l:. '"'l~
~'·"" ~"' ~•!. 27. b:l. l(H. 2J{., :!$5, 3-'S, "' 11,,,"" 290-JOI
\~ """' } I ~: • M 1-ft.,.L( '> ~-I: on F<o•><.'...,lt l).wi~. Thc• M I I
.~9 \II tn l' •ru.J 172..1';~ (>,tn f..illl( 0..• Mar. P6ul <J- 10. ~II. Jj3- '), ~19
97, ..... L,,.. Jlt, t:!-.l, ,.,....~.. ~...1 ;~,...tit., "' u.... J ~tt!f~"' :~1
···~ · ... d<'t' ~i(.., i 'l ..... t f~!-'"''" 17'1-110
\:;JJW(Ioi.: in Adtl.,.!• J~ 1- &. Jf)(l. 1: Jf!, :l<.'t".$ioll!li>m. ~I. :UU
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'That contemporary theory would eventually turn back to eonstdcr ils
crigim in !he contradictions of philooophic<1l aesth .. tirs \\'.-1s
predlddLI~; hut uuthiu\,;. cuu.IJ h.:~\'t! p1ep.:ued u~ for Eagleton's
extraordJnar}' confrontation mth thr €"llltf(' morh·rn hi~tory thi~ nr
Ji~L:uur:.e, iu.t Look whid1 \.,.·ill be indispemable for yean to come.·
Profcs~or F. R. Jameson, Duke Univ~rsity

Tit.: Ideology oj tlre A~lthcti.:: mms to pn·w-nt A(i 1P~'< than il hi~tnry
.md uilique of the concept of the aesthetic throughout modem
\Vestcm thought. As a:uch, it IS a critical survey of modem \'t'e-stern
phihomphy, rnnl<>ing in p.:nlit~uiar Uti !lu: CUIILJJI'-'X rd.diom, between
aesthetic.s. ethics ar.d politics. Terry Eagleton provides a brillirmt
anrl dnl!•·nv,imc intnnlw:tiun to th~~: (urt..:t:lu~ . .s:> di.Jr&t<.tc:ritt:d in the
work of Kant. Schiller, Schopenhauc-r, K1-:rkcaaard, Marx.
Niet£~du:, FreuJ, ll~id~N, Luk.'w,.,, A•lmno, Hilht'nna.s, and
others.

\X'ide in span, as wdl as moral!)• and pohllcalh· conumttcd. this I!>

Tf'rTY E"p,lrton\ maior wnrl. In tl.illr. h furm:> Lutl1 .111 OJigin<ll
enquiry a.nd an exemplary introductton.

Terry Eagleton lS Thomas \Xiarlon Prof(':i..'~Or of F.t1s,l1~h in thr

l~nin·n.ity or O ...furJ. I IC. booh i.udude LitcraiJI '1'/t.zory: An
ln~oduction ( 1983), The Rape of Clarissa (1982). Waller Benjamm
( 1981 ), Crilici1>1t1 aml !J~ulugy ( llJ76) auJ ,1.1auUm and Litert1t!J
Criliwm (1976)

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fl) Blackwell
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