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Sunday, October 10, 2010

NIETZSCHE: ON THE VITA ACTIVA


















George Grosz,
Ameisen (Ants), 1920



From Nietzsche's Human, All Too Human, 1878 (trans. H. Zimmerman), 283:


Principal deficiency of active men. - Active men are generally wanting in the higher activity: I mean that of the individual. They are active as officials, businessmen, scholars, that is to say as generic creatures, but not as distinct individual and unique human beings; in this regard they are lazy. - It is the misfortune of the active that their activity is always a little irrational. One ought not to ask the cash-amassing banker, for example, what the purpose of his restless activity is: it is irrational. The active roll as the stone rolls, in obedience to the stupidity of the laws of mechanics. - As at all times, so now too, men are divided into the slaves and the free; for he who does not have two-thirds of his day to himself is a slave, let him be what he may otherwise: statesman, businessman, official, scholar.


Grosz, Metropolis, 1916-1917





The sufferings inflicted by the contemplatives



Friederich Nietzsche, MORGENRÖTE: Gedanken über die moralischen Vorurteile

(1873)


[DAYBREAK: Thoughts on the prejudices of morality]

Section 41



Nietzsche in 1876



"Section 41. Towards an evaluation of the vita contemplativa. – Let us, as men of the vita contemplativa, not forget what kind of evil and ill-fortune has come upon the man of the vita activa through the after-effects of contemplation – in short, what counter-reckoning the vita activa has in store for us if we boast too proudly before it of our good deeds.

First: the so-called religious natures, whose numbers preponderate among the contemplative and who consequently constitute their commonest species, have at all times had the effect of making life hard for practical men and, where possible, intolerable to them: to darken the heavens, to blot out the sun, to cast suspicion on joy, to deprive hope of its value, to paralyze the active hand – this is what they have known how to do, just as much as they have had their consolations, alms, helping hand and benedictions for wretched feelings and times of misery.








Dürer, St. Jerome in his study, 1514






Secondly: the artists, somewhat rarer than the religious yet still a not uncommon kind of man of the vita contemplativa, have as individuals usually been unbearable, capricious, envious, violent and unpeaceable: this effect has to be set against the cheering and exalting effects of their works.


Thirdly: the philosophers, a species in which religious and artistic powers exist together but in such a fashion that a third thing, dialectics, love of demonstrating, has a place beside them, have been the author of evils in the manner of the religious and the artists and have in addition through their inclination for dialectics brought boredom to many people; but their number has always been very small.

Fourthly: the thinkers and the workers in science; they have rarely aimed at producing effects but have dug away quietly under their mole-hills. They have thus caused little annoyance or discomfort, and often, as objects of mockery and laughter, have without desiring it even alleviated the life of the men of the vita activa. Science has, moreover, become something very useful to everyone: if on account of this utility very many predestined for the vita activa now, in the sweat of their brow and not without brain-racking and imprecations, beat out for themselves a path to science, this distress is not the fault of the host of thinkers and workers in science; it is “self-inflicted pain.”"


Dürer, Melancolia, 1514



DE LA BREVEDAD ENGAÑOSA DE LA VIDA




DE LA BREVEDAD ENGAÑOSA DE LA VIDA

Soneto

(English translation below, by Alix Ingber, 1995)


LUIS DE GÓNGORA Y ARGOTE (Córdoba, 11 July 1561 – Córdoba, 24 May 1627)













Menos solicitó veloz saeta
destinada señal, que mordió aguda;
agonal carro por la arena muda
no coronó con más silencio meta,

que presurosa corre, que secreta,
a su fin nuestra edad. A quien lo duda,
fiera que sea de razón desnuda,
cada Sol repetido es un cometa.

¿Confiésalo Cartago, y tú lo ignoras?
Peligro corres, Licio, si porfías
en seguir sombras y abrazar engaños.

Mal te perdonarán a ti las horas:
las horas que limando están los días,
los días que royendo están los años.


Sonnet:
Concerning the deceptive brevity of life

Less swiftly did the arrow seek
its destined mark, which it so sharply pierced;
the racing chariot on voiceless sand
did not a column with more silence round,

than swiftly runs, and surreptitiously
to its end our life. For him who doubts,
even if it's a brute of reason stripped,
every new sun a comet's warning sounds.

Carthage confesses this, yet you don't see?
You are in danger, Lycius, if you persist
in chasing shadows, grasping at a straw.

You will not soon be pardoned by the hours:
hours that erode the fabric of our days,
days that our years inevitably gnaw.

(©Alix Ingber, 1995)


 
PLINY THE YOUNGER
LETTER TO FUSCUS
(Spanish translation below)
















Pliny the Younger Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, born Gaius Caecilius or Gaius Caecilius Cilo (61 AD – ca. 112 AD)
















Model of Pliny's Villa at Laurentium







 

[ABAJO, EN CASTELLANO]




LETTER CVIII



To Fuscus:


You want to know how I portion out my day, in my summer villa at Tuscum? I get up just when I please; generally about sunrise, often earlier, but seldom later than this. I keep the shutters closed, as darkness and silence wonderfully promote meditation.


Thus free and abstracted from those outward objects which dissipate attention, I am left to my own thoughts; nor suffer my mind to wander with my eyes, but keep my eyes in subjection to my mind, which, when they are not distracted by a multiplicity of external objects, see nothing but what the imagination represents to them. If I have any work in hand, this is the time I choose for thinking it out, word for word, even to the minutest accuracy of expression. In this way I compose more or less, according as the subject is more or less difficult, and I find myself able to retain it. I then call my secretary, and, opening the shutters, dictate to him what I have put into shape, after which I dismiss him, then call him in again, and again dismiss him. About ten or eleven o'clock (for I do not observe one fixed hour), according to the weather, I either walk upon my terrace or in the covered portico, and there I continue to meditate or dictate what remains upon the subject in which I am engaged.



























This completed, I get into my chariot, where I employ myself as before, when I was walking, or in my study; and find this change of scene refreshes and keeps up my attention. On my return home, I take a little nap, then a walk, and after that repeat out loud and distinctly some Greek or Latin speech, not so much for the sake of strengthening my voice as my digestion; though indeed the voice at the same time is strengthened by this practice. I then take another walk, am anointed, do my exercises, and go into the bath. At supper, if I have only my wife or a few friends with me, some author is read to us; and after supper we are entertained either with music or an interlude. When that is finished, I take my walk with my family, among whom I am not without some scholars. Thus we pass our evenings in varied conversation; and the day, even when at the longest, steals imperceptibly away. Upon some occasions I change the order in certain of the articles above - mentioned. For instance, if I have studied longer or walked more than usual, after my second sleep, and reading a speech or two aloud, instead of using my chariot I get on horseback; by which means I ensure as much exercise and lose less time.



The visits of my friends from the neighboring villages claim some part of the day; and sometimes, by an agreeable interruption, they come in very seasonably to relieve me when I am feeling tired. I now and then amuse myself with hunting, but always take my tablets into the field, that, if I should meet with no game, I may at least bring home something. Part of my time too (though not so much as they desire) is allotted to my tenants; whose rustic complaints, along with these city occupations, make my literary studies still more delightful to me.



 Farewell.























Ruins of Pliny's Villa at Tifernum











Carta de Plinio el Joven a Fusco:Me preguntas cómo paso la jornada de verano en mi casa de Tuscum, en Etruria. Me despierto cuando quiero, habitualmente a las seis, con frequencia antes, rara vez mas tarde. . . . Reflexiono sobre el trabajo que estoy haciendo y lo hago con gran cuidado, como si lo escribiera palabra por palabra y lo corrigiera . . . Después llamo a mi secretario, le hago abrir las ventanas y le dicto lo que he elaborado en la mente . . . Hacia las diez o las once –no subdivido las horas de manera rígida, precisa, sino según aconseje el tiempo -, voy a la terraza o al atrio, sigo reflexionando, y dicto lo que he pensado. Después, subo a la carroza y también en ella continúo haciendo lo que hago, caminando o acostado. La tensión mental permanence, revigorizada por el cambio. A continuación, me echo una siesta y doy otro paseo; al final leo algún discurso griego o latino, en voz alta y clara, más para el beneficio del estómago que para el entrenamiento de la voz; aunque, de todos modos, esto sirve también para fortalecer la voz. Doy un nuevo paseo, vienen después los masajes, la gimnasia y el baño. A la mesa, cuando está mi mujer o un par de amigos, hago leer algún libro; tras la cena, la comedia o el sonido del laúd; doy a continuación, un paseo con mi gente, que incluye también a hombres cultos. De este modo transcurre la velada en discursos varios y agradables, y hasta el día más largo pasa como un soplo . . . . A veces voy a cazar, aunque nunca sin mi mesita de escribir, que gracias a ella, aunque no cace nada, siempre llevo a casa algo de valor . . . También dedico algún tiempo a mis arrendatarios (coloni), aunque, según ellos, nunca es suficiente; sus quejas labriegas despiertan en mí el deseo de pensar en nuestras ciencias y en las actividades y asuntos politicos de la ciudad.
Me despido.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

NERO'S TERM

















Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus
(37-68 A.D.)

Nero's Term
A poem by Constantine Cavafy

Nero was not worried when he heard
the prophecy of the Delphic Oracle.
"Let him fear the seventy three years."
He still had ample time to enjoy himself.
He is thirty.
More than sufficient is the term the god allots him
to prepare for future perils.

Now he will return to Rome slightly tired,
but delightfully tired from this journey,
full of days of enjoyment
--at the theaters, the gardens, the gymnasia...
evenings at cities of Achaia...
Ah, the delight of nude bodies, above all...

Thus fared Nero.
And in Spain, Galba,
secretly assembles and drills his army,
the old man of seventy three.


Galba (3BCE-69 A.D.)



















El plazo de Nerón


No se inquietó Nerón cuando escuchó
del délfico adivino aquel oráculo.
«Los setenta y tres años témelos».

Quedaba tiempo aún para gozar.
Pues tiene treinta años, y es bien largo
el plazo que le ha concedido el dios
para ocuparse ya en futuros cuidos.

Ahora a Roma volverá un tanto fatigado,
pero tan felizmente fatigado de este viaje,
que ha sido todo días de placer
por teatros, por jardines, por gimnasios...
las noches de las ciudades de Acaya...

Ay, de cuerpos desnudos el placer, ay, sobre todo...

Así Nerón. Y ya en Hispania, Galba
reúne y ejercita sus tropas a escondidas,
el viejo de setenta y tres años.



Η Διορία του Nέρωνος Αναγνωρισμένα


Δεν ανησύχησεν ο Νέρων όταν άκουσε
του Δελφικού Μαντείου τον χρησμό.
«Τα εβδομήντα τρία χρόνια να φοβάται.»
Είχε καιρόν ακόμη να χαρεί.
Τριάντα χρονώ είναι. Πολύ αρκετή
είν’ η διορία που ο θεός τον δίδει
για να φροντίσει για τους μέλλοντας κινδύνους.

Τώρα στην Pώμη θα επιστρέψει κουρασμένος λίγο,
αλλά εξαίσια κουρασμένος από το ταξείδι αυτό,
που ήταν όλο μέρες απολαύσεως —
στα θέατρα, στους κήπους, στα γυμνάσια ...
Των πόλεων της Aχαΐας εσπέρες ...
A των γυμνών σωμάτων η ηδονή προ πάντων ...


Aυτά ο Νέρων. Και στην Ισπανία ο Γάλβας
κρυφά το στράτευμά του συναθροίζει και το ασκεί,
ο γέροντας ο εβδομήντα τριώ χρονώ.

(Από τα Ποιήματα 1897-1933, Ίκαρος 1984)



Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)


On the possibility of culture after Auschwitz










A prisoner at Auschwitz:
Krystyna Trzesniewska
, born on February 2, 1929, registered as a prisoner at Auschwitz on December 13, 1942, executed on May 18, 1943.

Berlin Zeughaus Museum.





A very famous quote from Theodor Adorno, totally taken out of context: “Nach Auschwitz ein Gedicht zu schreiben ist barbarisch.” (To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric). It has been interpreted as an injunction against writing poetry, or as the proclamation of a taboo on cultural expression. It is not. Not only does the lack of context result in hiding the reasons why the statement was originally advanced, but it further disguises the fact that Adorno meant it as an aporetic statement: No poetry can any longer be written, but it must be written. This latter point is clearly made in an excellent article by Elaine Martin, Re-reading Adorno: The ‘after-Auschwitz’ Aporia, FORUM: Fear and Terror, National University of Ireland, Maynooth).

My particular interest in the issue is based on the reasons which underlie Adorno’s initial statement, the answers to the question which naturally arises therefrom: why is it barbaric to write poetry after Auschwitz? Here, two issues are necessarily highlighted: the failure of a culture that is complicit in a monstrous crime, and the impossibility of using that culture’s language or discourse after it has been used for the perpetration of such monstrous crime. To the aesthetic dilemma is added a moral quandary, and both extend beyond the German context. The issue of form, the poisoning of the language and the taint on the culture, is the aesthetic quandary. The question of whether there is a danger of romanticizing the crime sets up its ethical dimension.

From the Belvedere Palace in Weimar, the palace of the Dukes of Sachse-Weimar, where Goethe was often a guest and where he served as Privy Counselor (Geheimrat) to Duke Karl August, the monument to the victims at Buchenwald is clearly visible.



[be sure and click on the photo for enhanced viewing]


















Buchenwald Concentration Camp Monument, visible from the
grounds of the Belvedere Palace in Weimar.




German Culture and Buchenwald, and Auschwitz? German Culture and the Shoah? How was this debasement possible? That is not so much the interesting question any longer, one that can only lead to trite answers and tired liberal-humanistic shibboleths. The important fact is that it happened, because it shows that even the greatest and richest cultures can fail. When a culture commits mass murder and genocide, it has failed. After Auschwitz, Adorno argues, to write poetry in the German language is to attempt to create beauty in a medium that has been tainted and corrupted.

It is tainted and corrupted unto silence and paralysis. In what manner has this occurred? As Elaine Martin points out in her article, for Adorno, the language became a tool of instrumental reason the function of which was to make a ‘thing’ out of a human being, one that served, in other words, to reify humanity. This language, this discourse, can thereafter no longer be used to express “the knowledge of its own impossibility.” The destruction of the traditional notion of the individual’s autonomy, which is by far the least of what occurred at Auschwitz or Buchenwald, the fact that the one who utters the language is no longer a human being but a 'thing,' makes it impossible for the language to record how such an expression is itself no longer possible. Auschwitz destroyed the very possibility of the poet.

"The impossibility of portraying Fascism stems from the fact that in it subjective freedom no longer exists. Absolute lack of freedom cannot be represented." (Adorno, Minima Moralia, 148. Elaine Martin trans.)

The extinction of the very possibility of poetic discourse, arguably the consequence of reification, is both cause and consequence of the extinction of the culture that sustained it. Insofar as language makes us, - determines the structure and context of our cultural upbringing-, a tainted language gives birth to a tainted culture. A language in bondage, itself the offspring of a failed culture, can only engender a new culture which is also in bondage. How can any cultural or artistic discourse have any credibility after it commits a monstrous crime? What else can that culture say? How can it create beauty? How can it even entertain? In this regard, there is a revealing anecdote, I believe it’s from Bruno Bettleheim, about his walking with another prisoner at Buchenwald and politely greeting a camp officer as the latter walked by. “Now I finally understand Hegel’s dictum, that 'the real is rational and the rational is real,'” one of the prisoners says to the other. “When the prisoner doffs his hat at the executioner, then the real has become rational.” A culture so debased, where criminal behavior becomes the accepted norm, can no longer produce Beauty.

How then is it possible to ‘get back to normal?’ How is it possible to start writing poetry again?

















Theodor W. Adorno
(1903-1969)





Theodor Adorno’s “post-Auschwitz” aporia consists in the fact that the culture cannot acknowledge the crime it has committed because it cannot express itself autonomously any longer in its own language, and yet poetry must be written in order to articulate the crime, and thus acknowledge and stand witness to it. In short, poetry cannot be written, but it must be written, so that it bears witness to what has been done. From this there is no exit.


















Botero, Abu Ghraib, 2005








 




























In his paintings of 2005, (above) Botero has beautified the crime of Abu Ghraib, by aestheticizing the actual event and its horror, a crime which is not yet atoned for. The beautification of that which is criminal is a forgiveness, though the artist no doubt was making in this instance a clearly critical statement. It shifts the viewer's value-making system from the ethical realm to the aesthetic. The painting is judged aesthetically; the crime is out of consciousness, if even for a second. Botero's work here illustrates Adorno's understanding of the 'aporia.' The poem cannot be written, but it must be written.

The "post-Auschwitz" aporia transcends the peculiarly horrifying context of its own historical origin. Poetry must bear witness, but the corruption of its language by the enormity of the underlying crime, and the mere possibility that it may romanticize or beautify its subject matter, brings about a dumbfounded silence. Today, we stare into a similar void. The noise of the culture industry will only continue to obfuscate a silence which is in fact, by and large, a total void of culture.




INVALUABLE DOCUMENT: The Diaries of Victor Klemperer

I shall bear Witness unto the last: The Diaries of Victor Klemperer (1933-1945)
Ich will Zeugnis ablegen bis zum letzten: Tagebücher 1933-1945 von Victor Klemperer


















Victor Klemperer (1881-1960)





The Diaries of Victor Klemperer, painfully and painstakingly written during the Nazi period and throughout every dark month of the Second World War by a Jewish outcast in Dresden, must be regarded as one of the most important documents of the twentieth century. Klemperer had been professor of Romance languages and literature at the Technische Universität in Dresden since 1920, having distinguished himself as a teacher and as a scholar, with several publications to his name. He was an expert on French Literature, and particularly on Voltaire, but had written extensively on Montesquieu and Corneille. In 1933, he lost his academic status and position at the University, as well as half his pension, and thenceforth began his desperate struggle for dignity and survival amid the horror of Nazi rule, which is all faithfully and extensively memorialized in the Diaries. He survived ultimately because he was married to an Aryan woman, Eva Schlemmer, a Protestant from Königsberg, and because his final deportation date, along with that of the few remaining Jews in the city, coincided with the destruction of Dresden, on the 13th and 14th of February, 1945.

The significance of these diaries lies in the revelation of two principal developments, one of a sociological, the other of a cultural nature, both pointing to forces and outcomes that affected all of European civilization and its society, well beyond the limits of the city of Dresden, and well after 1945.

1. The reduction of Professor Klemperer

Well before Klemperer was forced to wear the yellow star publicly on his jacket, from September 19, 1941 until the day of the bombing of Dresden, he had been totally degraded and savagely reduced. Over the course of the five pre-war years, he had been forced to abandon his home, give up driving his car, cease walking through certain parts of the city, forgo his activities as a public intellectual and scholar, as well as interaction with colleagues and acquaintances who were Aryan, and move into a crowded building with people with whom he had nothing in common other than an ancestral Jewish ethnicity. As the years passed, Klemperer lost his library, as well as any possible privilege to use any other library. His scholarly work was interrupted, and his work on the clandestine Diaries became the only intellectual task he undertook, almost daily, in peril of his life.

The progression of the Diaries records a relentless descent and reduction for Victor and Eva Klemperer into a nightmare of horror, poverty and despair that was undreamed of when the initial consequences of the Nazi takeover of power first made themselves felt in their lives. After the beginning of the war, in September 1939, their very survival was constantly in play. The smallest infraction of the growing number of rules designed to make the life of the Jews miserable and fearful could result in deportation and certain death. The Klemperers suffered hunger and debasement. In utter despair and hopelessness, Klemperer was driven to steal food from his neighbors, was forced to work in factories on assembly lines, despite agonizing pain and exhaustion, was accosted by individuals, including children, on the streets and insulted, slapped and spat on during arbitrary house searches where his belongings and food were confiscated, thrown into jail and kept in fearful solitary confinement, - for the minor offense of neglecting to black out a window in the house -, despised, shouted at, cursed, and throughout terrified by the fear of imminent deportation and death.

In his post-war Diaries [The Lesser Evil: Diaries of Victor Klemperer, 1945-1959: So sitze ich denn zwischen allen Stühlen. Tagebucher 1945-1959], Klemperer describes the day, July 4, 1945, when he recovered some of the possessions which had been hidden in the home of a friend, together with the war diaries and other manuscripts. “How very rich we were!” was Klemperer's astonished reaction when he saw the silver plate, the clothing and furnishings that had survived. Indeed, what the Diaries record is a long process of reduction and degradation, of the narrowing of life, space and opportunity, a Beschränkung (narrowing) of life, from the high comfort and status of a bourgeois professor to arbitrary confinement and the prospect of a death which for Klemperer was symbolized by the small cylindrical containers in which the ashes of his Jewish acquaintances were buried, in small holes at the Jewish cemetery, after their murder in the Dresden prisons. The total extinction of a rich life, which was, in effect, the life of the old German Bildungsbürgertum, the educated and richly cultivated German bourgeoisie.

This life would never return. Not only had the economic preconditions for that life disappeared for ever, but the culture that sustained it vanished as well.

2. The poisoning of the old culture

The second development recorded in the Diaries that I wish to call attention to, is the gradual poisoning of the language, and the attendant debasement of the culture, which accompanied the horrors of the Nazi period in Germany. Even before the war began, Klemperer noted in his Diaries the changing uses of words and expressions in the media and public discourse, the appearance of superlatives, the emergence of a racist vocabulary, the transformation of the cognitive content of words into new emotional or assertive significations designed for the purposes of propaganda and misinformation. The notes and observations thus recorded became the basis of his subsequent book, Lingua Tertii Imperii: Notizbuch eines Philologen (1947) [The Language of the Third Reich: Notes of a Philologist].

Much has been written on Klemperer’s ground-breaking philological observations, but the emphasis should shift from mere words to the context of the entire culture which the distortion of words serves to debase. For it is not just a matter of words. The entire meaning of the culture becomes tainted when the form in which it is expressed is poisoned, because the poisoning of the words answers to a dynamic of cultural repression and distortion that cannot but affect the content of the overall cultural discourse. In a diary entry for March 19, 1944 (Sunday morning half past nine), Klemperer makes a most revealing observation. He is sitting in a room by himself, separated from the Aryan workers in a factory where he is doing forced labor at an assembly line, and he can listen to a radio in the background, “. . . catching a couple of radio tunes, among them still the same cabaret schmaltz by the same castrato voice that I heard . . . last summer. Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands have fallen, and that man is still singing: “A little girl has stolen my heart . . . .”

Hundreds of thousands have fallen, monstrous crimes have been committed, yet the content of the entertainment, the entertainment itself, remains unchanged from what it was in peace time. As Theodor Adorno has pointed out, when collective crime is committed, the culture that is responsible for it has failed, and is complicit in the crime. How can a criminal culture entertain? Its attempt at normalcy, at representing a life that is going on “as usual,” is horrifying in its deceptiveness. Whether a culture can recover from such a catastrophe is still an open question, and it is a question that the Diaries of Victor Klemperer pose in a remarkably compelling fashion to us today.














Dresden in ruins, 1945

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