N

[On the Theory of Knowledge, Theory of Progress]

TUlle:! are more interesting than people.
de Balzac, CritiqUt lifth-aire, Illtroduction by Lou4 Lumc:t
(Paris. 1912), p. 103 (Cuy de la Ponnerart'. Hisll1in tk l'Amj,aJ
<AI..,)
The refoml of consciousness consists lokt, in ... the awaken-
ing of the world &om its dream about itsc:lf.
- Karl Marx. lkr hiJloriJck .J.,IQlma/WnuJ : Dit FriiW rifi(ll. (Leipzig
<1932 . vol. I, p. 226 (lener from Mane: to RuS'!; Kreuunach, Sep-
tcmba 1843)'
In the fields with which we are concerned, knowledge comes only in lightning \
fiashes. The text is the long roU of thunder that follows. [Nl,l}
Comparison of other people's attempts to the undenaking of a sea voyage in
which the ships are drawn off course by the magnetic North Pole. Discover this
Nonh Pole. What for others are deviations are, for me, the data which determine
my course.-On the differentials of time (which, for others, disturb the main
lines of the inquiry), I base my reckoning. [Nl ,2]
Say something about the method of composition itself: how everything onc is
thinking at a specific moment in time must at all COSts be incorporated intO the
project then at hand. Assume that the intensity of the project is thereby attested,
or that one's thoughts, from the very bear this project within them as
their tdos. So it is with the present portion of the work, which aims to charac-
terize and to preserve the intervals of reBection, the distances lying between the
most esscntial parts of this work, which are nuned most intensively to the out-
side. [Nl ,3]
To cultivate fields where. until now, only madness has reigned. Forge ahead with
the whetted axe of reason, looking neither right nor left so as not to sucrumb to
the horror that beckons from deep in the primeval forest. Every ground must at
some point have been made arabic by reason, must have been cleared of the
A ofBcnjamin's mauwcript, showing th(: beginning of
Cou\"O! ute N.
1I llde.rgrowth of delusion and myth. 1b..is is to be accomplished here for the
terram of the ninetcelll.h century. [N I ,4]
-nl
cse
nOl es devoted to the Paris arcades were begun under an open sky of
cl oudless blue that arched above the foliage ; and yet-owing to the millions of
leaves th!lt wt:re visited by the fresh breeze of dili gence, the stenorous breath of
the researcher, storm of youthful zeal, and the idle wind of ruriosi ry-they've
been covered with the dust of centuries. For the painted sky of summer that looks
I
J
down from the arcades in the reading room of the Bibtiotheque Nationale in Paris
has sprf:ad Ollt over them its dreamy, wIlit ceiling. [NI ,S]
TIle pamos of this work: there are no periods of decline. Altcmpt to see the
nineteenth century JUSt as positi vel y as I tried to sce. the seventeenth, in the work
011 1TGli mpid. No belief in periods of decline. By !.he same loken, every ciry is
beautifill LO me (from outside its bordcrs),jusl as aU t.-uk of particular languages'
having greater or lesser value is 10 me unacceptable. [N1,6)
And, later, the glassed-in spot facing my seat at the Staatsbibliothek. Charmed
circle inviolate. virgin terrain for the soles of figures I conjured. [Nl ,7]
Pedagogic side: of this undertaking: "To educate the image-making medium
within us, raising it to a stereoscopic and dimensional seeing into the depths of
historical shadows!' The words art Rudolf Borchardt' s in Fpilegomma ttl Dank,
vol. I (Berlin. 1923). pp, 56-57. (N'.8)
Delimitation of the tendency of this project with respect to Aragon: whereas
Aragon persists within the realm of dream, here the concern is to find the constel-
lation of awakening. 'While in Arab'Oli there remains an impressionistic element,
namely the "mythology" (and this impressionism must be held responsible for
the many vague philosopheIlles in his here it is a question of the dissolu ,
tion of "mythology" intO the space of history. That, of course, can happen only
through lhe awakening of a not-yet-conscious knowledge of what has been.
(N1.9]
This 'work has to develop to the highest degree the art of citing without quotation
marks. Its theory is intimately related to that of montage. (NI, tO]
"Apart from a certain haul-golit chaml," says Giedion, "tlle artistic draperies and
wall-hangings of the previous ce.ntury have come to musty:' digfried>
Giedion, Bauen in Fra1lli.recn (Leipzig and Berlin <1928)). p. 3. however.
believe that the ehann they exercise on us is proof that these things, too. contain
material of vital importance for us- not indeed for our building practice, as is the
case with the constructive possibilities i.nherem in iron frameworks, but rather for
()ur understanding, for the radioscopy, if you will , of the situation of the
geois elass at the moment it evinces tlle first signs of decline. In any case. matcnal
()f vital inlportance politically; this is demonstrated by the attachment of the
Surrealists to tllese things. as much as by their exploitation in contemporary
fashion. III other words: just as Giedion teacllcs us to read off the basic features of
today' s archiu:: clUre in tlle buildillb"S erected around 1850, we. in tum. would
n:i:ogn.ize lOehy's life. tOday's fomts, in the life and in dle apparently secondary.
lost fOnIts ofl.hat epoch. [Nl,l1]
''In the windswept $tallways of the EUfel Tower, or. better still, in the st:1 sup'"
ports of a Pont Trarubordeur, one meets with the fundamenraJ aesthetic experi-
ence of present-day architecture: through dle dUn net of iron that hangs
suspended in the air. things stream-ships. ocean, houses, masts, landscape,
batbor. They lose their distinctive shape, swirl into one another as we climb
downwa:cI, merge simultaneously." ?iedion, Bauen in Fra1lli.reicn (Leipzig
and Berlin), p. 7. in the same way, the histonan today has only to creCl a slender
but sturdy scaffolding-a philosophic structure-in order to draw the most vital
aspens of the past into his net. But JUSt as the magnificent vistas of the city
provided by the new construction in iron (again, see Giedion, illustrations on
pp. 61-63) for a time were exclusively for the workers and engi-
neers, so too the philosopher who WLShes here to gamer fresh perspectives must
be someone immune to vertigo-an independent and, if need be, solitary" worker.
[N1a,1]
The book on the Baroque exposed the seventeenth century to the light of the
present day. Here, something analogous must be done for the nineteenth century,
but with greater distinctness. [Nla,2]
Modest methodological proposal for the a.UwrnJrustorical dialectic. It is very
easy to establish oppositions, according to determinate points of view, within the
various "6elds" of any epoch, such that on one side lies the "productivc:," "for-
ward-looking," "lively," "positive" part of the epoch, and on the other side the
abortive, retrograde, and obsolescent. The very contours of the positive element
will appear distinctly only insofar as this element is set ofT against the negative.
On the other hand, every negation has its value solely as background for the
delineation of the lively, the positive. It is therefore of decisive importance that a
partition be applied to this initially excluded, negative component so that, by
a displacement of the angle of vision (but not of the criteria!), a positive element
emerges in it too-something different from that previously signified. And
50 on, ad infirutum, until the entire past is brought intO the present in a historical
apocatastasis.1 [Nla,3)
The. foregoing, put differently: the indestructibility of the highest life in all things.
Agamsl the prognosticators of decline. Consider, though: Isn't it an affront to
Goethe to make a film of Faust, and isn' t there a world of difference between the
poem RlUSI and the film Fau.st?YI=s , CCrtainlv. But agam' isn't there a whole world
fd 'it '
o I c.rence between a bad 6lm of Faust and a good one? What matter are never
"g!Tc' " b I tI "'al '
at ut on y 1e w eCl.1 cal contrasts, which often seem indistinguishable
frolll nuances. It is nonetheless from them that life is always born anew.
[NJa,4)
both Breton and Le Corbusier- that would mean dr.twing the
SPlnt of colltemponu), France like a bow, wid) which 1000wlcdge shoots the
lllOment in the heart. [NJa,5]
c5
z
.1an lays bare the causal connection bct\\-'ttO economy and cu]ture, For us, what
malleI'S is the thread of c:xpression. It is not the economic origins of culture that
.....jJJ be presented, but the expression of the economy in its culture. At issue, in
other words, is the attempt to grasp an economic process as perceptible U,..
phenomenon, from out of which proceed all manifestations of life in the aJ'Cades
(and, accordingly. in the nineteenth century). [Nla,6]
TIlls research-which deals fundamentally wi th the expressive character of the
earliest industrial products, the earliest industrial architecture, the earliest ma-
chines, but also lhe earliest department stores, advc.rtisemcnts, and so on- thus
becomes important for Marxism in two ways. Hrst, it will demonstrate how the
milieu in which Marx' s doctrine arose affected that doctrine through its expres-
sive character (which is to say, not only through causal connections) ; bUl.
it will also show in whaL respects Marxism, tOO, shares the expressive character of
the material products contemporary with it. [Nl a,71
Method of this project: literary montage. 1 needn't Jay aJlything. Merdy show. I
shall purloin no valuables, appropriate no formulations. the rags,
the refuse-these I will not inventory but allow, m the only way poSSible, to come
intO their own: by making use of them [Nla.81
Bear in mind lhat commentary on a reality (for it is a question here of conunen-
tary, of interpretation in detail) calls for a method completely. &:om
required by commentary on a text. In the one case, the soenrific mamstay 11
theology; in the other case. philology. [N2, l1
It Illay be considered one of the methodological objectives of this work to demon-
strate a historical materialism which has annihilated within itself the idea of
progress. Just here, historical materialism has every.reason to itSClf
sharply from bourgeois habitS of thought. Its founding concept IS not progras _
but actualization. [N2,2]
Historical "understanding" is to be grasped, ill principle, as an aft erlife of that
which is understood; and whal has been recognized in the analysis of the "after-
li fe of wor ks," in the analysis of "fame," is therefore to be considered the founda-
tion of hislory in generaL [N2,3]
How this work was wri lten: by rung. according as chance offer :
narrow foothold and always Like someone who scales dangerous helghLS an
. di
never allows himself a moment to look around. for fear of becoDllng uy .
also because he would save for t.he cnd the full force of the panorama operung
c , __ ) [N' .' )
au! to IWlI
Overcoming the concept of "P!"Ob'TCSs" and overcoming the concept of of
decline" are tWO sides of one aJld the same lhing. (N2,51
A cenrral problem of historical materialism that ought to be seen in the end: Must
the Marxist understanding of history necessarily be acquired at the e.xpense of
the perceptibility of history? Or: in what way is it possible to conjoin a height-
ened grapJ.-ucnc:ss to !.he realization of me: method? The \
first st:lge 1Il uus undertaking will be to carry over ule pnnelple of montage into
history. Illal is. to assemble largescale consrructions out of the smallest and
most precisely cut components. Indeed, to discover in the analysis of the small
individual Illoment the crystal of !.he total event. And, therefore, to break with
wlgar historical naturalism_ To grasp the consrruction of history as such. In the
structure of commentary. 0 Refuse of History a [N2,6]
;\ Ki erkegaard citation ill Wi esengrund. wi th commentary fuUowing: "'One IWly
arriYflll t Il similar consider ati on of the myt hical hy heginni ng wilh the imagi8tic.
\t' hen. ill an age uf reflecti on, oue &eel the imagistic protrude ever 10 sligbdy and
ill a rd lecti ve representation and, like 1111 amedi]uvian fossil, suge81
species uf existence which washed away tl ouhl , one will perhaps be
UIlIUiIlCl1 thul the i.mage could ever ha ve pla yed such an important role.'
Kierkcgaanl ward, off the 'amazement ' wi t h what follows. Yet thill amuement
heruI41s t he deepest insighl iutu the iuter rdati on of dialectic, myth, and image. For
it is lIul as the conlinuowlly li ving ami pr esent dl at nature prevails ill the di alectic.
i}iull'4:1ic cOllies 10 u stop ill the image, und, in the cOlltext of recent hinor y, it cites
tI\l' mytbi cal as what ii long gone: lI atun- a8 primal hiJl tory. For till s re:1t801l . the
images-whi ch. like tJI OSC of the interieur. hring dialecti c and myth to the poinl of
indiIfert-nti Ulion-are truly 'antedil uvian fossi l,. ' They may be called di alec: ti cal
imugel. to UBC Benj amin's whose compelling defmiti ol1 of
also III)I, IB t.rue for aUegorical intention taken as II figure of hist ori
CIl I llill icct ic and mythi cal nature. According to thiiJ definition. 'in allegor y the
"ltscrvf'r is confrlJll tl'd with hippocrotico of history, a petrified IJrimor-
dill lla ll ,llOo:n pt: . " 'l'hw dor Wi escngrund-Adorno. Kierkegoard (Tilhingen. 1933).
I) 60.' 0 Refuse of History 0 [N2,7)
Onl )' a ulougtuless observer can deny that correspondences come into play
between the world of modem technology and the archaic symbol-world of my-
thOlogy. Of course, initially the technologically new seems nothing more than
But in the very next childhood memory, its traits are a\rc:ady altered. Every
achieves something great aJld irreplaceable for humanity. By the inter-
est It takes in technolobrical phenomena, by the curiosity it displays before any
son or invention or machinery, every chil dhood binds the accomplishments of
teclUlology to ule old worlds of symbol. There is nothing in the realm of nature
from the outset would be exempt from such a bond. Only, it takes form not
In the aura of novelty but in the aura of the habitual. In memory, d Uldhood, and
dream, UAwakening a (N2i1, I J
' 111e mOmentuDl of primaJ histOry i.n the past is no longer masked, as it used to
be, by the tradition of ch urch and family- this at once the consequence and
6
"
condition of technology. The old pre historic dread already envelops the world of
our parents because we ourselves an=: no longer bound to this world by tradition.
The perceptual worlds bn=ak up mon:: rapidly; what tht::y contain of
the mythic comes more quickly and more brutally to the fore; and a wholly
different perceptual world must be speedily set up to oppose it. nus is how the
accelerated tempo of technology appears in light of the primal history of the
presenL 0 Awakening 0 (N2a,2j
It's not that what is past casts its light on what is present, or what is praou its
light on what is past; rather, image is that wherein what has been comes together
in a Bash with the now (0 fonn a constellation. In other words, image is dialectics
at a standstill. For while the relation of the present to the past is a purely tempo-
ral, continuous one, the relation of what-has-been to the now is dialectical: is not
progression hut imaSl=, suddenJy emergenl.-Only diaJectica1 images are genuine
images (that is, not archaic): and the place: where one cncowlters them is lan-
guage. 0 Awakening 0 (N2a,3)
In studying Sin1D1e1's presentation of Goethe's concept of truth/ I came to see
very dearly that my concept of origin in the 7'raumpitl book is a rigorous and
decisivr. transposition of this basic Goethean concept from the domain of nature
to that of history. Origin- it is, in effect. the concept of Ur-phenomenon ex-
tracted from the pagan context of nature and brought into the J ewish contexts of
history. Now, in my \\."Ork on the arcades I am equally concerned with fathoming
an origin. To be spc:ciJic, I pursue the origin of the fonus and mutations of the
Paris arcades from their beginning to their decline, and I locate this origin in the
economic fact5. Seen from the standpoint of causality, however (and that means
considered as causes), these facts would not be primal phenomena; they become
such only insofar as in their own indi vidual devr.lopment- "unfolding" might be:
a better term-they give: rise to the whole series of the arcade's concrete histori-
cal fonus, just as lhe leaf wUolds from itself all the riches of the empirical world
of plant:;. (N2a,41
".A5 I st ud y thi s age iii Sf) dullt' to us and 81) re.nltl te, I comp"re myself to
lIurgcolloperaling with local ant!lithetic: I wurk ill urella Ihal are nllmh. tlead-yet
the "aliellt ill and Cltn i tillt ll lk.' Paw Morand. 1900 (Puri s. 1931 ), I'p. 6-7.
[N2a,5]
What distinguishes images from dle "essences" of phenomenology is their his-
torical index. (Heidegger seeks in vain to rescue history for
absttactly tlU'Ough "historicity.")' 111esc inlages arc to be thought of enurely
apart from the categories of the "human sciences," from so-called habitus, from
style, and Lhe like. For the historical index of the images not only says that they
belong to a particular tillle; it says, above all. that dley attain to legibility at
a particular time. And. indeed, this acceding ;' to legibility" constitutes a specific.
aitical poim in the movement at their interior. Every presc.m day is dctermined
by the images thai are synchronic with il : each Mnow" is the now of a particular
recognizability. In it, truth is charged 10 the bursting point with time. (TIlls poi nt
of explosion, and nothing else, is the death of the in/mHo, whi ch thus coi.ncides
wilh the birth of aulhellUC historical time, the time of truth. ) It is not that what is
past ils on what present, or what is present it5 light on what is past;
ralher. 15 that where.m what has been comes together in a Bash with the
now to foml a cowldlaUon. Jn other words: image is dialectics at a standstill. For
whilc the relation of the present to the past is purdy temporal, the relation of
the. is dialectical :. not temporal in nature but figural
<hildhlh>. Only dialectlcalunages an: historical-that is, not archaic-
images. The image that is read-which is to say, the image in the now of 115
recognizability-bears to the highest degrtt lhe imprint of the periJous critical
moment on which all reading is founded. (N3, 1]
Resolute refusal of the concept of "timeless truth" is in order. Nevenhcless, truth
is not-as Marxislll would have it-a merely contingent function of knowing,
but is boWld to a nucleus of time lying hidden within the knower and the known
alike. TIils is so true that the eternal, in any case, is far more the rume on a dress
than some idea. [N3,2]
Outline story of The Arcade; Project in temu of its development. Its properly
problemaoc component: the refusal to renounce anything that wouJd donon-
strate the of history as imagistic <bildluifb in a higher
sense than 10 the traditlonal presentation. (N3,3]
A ronark by Ernst Bloch apropos of ArtIlda Projed: "History displays its
Scotland Yard badge." It was in the COntext of a conversation in which I was
how this work-comparable, in method, to the process of splitting the
the enormous energies of history that arc boWld up in the "ona
upon a tIme" of classical historiography. The history that showed things "as they
really were" was the strongest narcotic of the century. fN3,4]
"TIle truth will nOl escape us," reads one of KdIer's epigrams. ' He thus formu-
lates the concept of truth with which dlCSC presentations take w ue. [N3a, I J
"Primal history of the nineteenth century" - this would be of no interest if it were
to mean that fornlS of primal history are to be recovered among the
tnvCntory of the ru'n, , c Onl h
b . c cenUI century. y were the nineteenth cenwry would
C 'presented as originary fonn of primal history- in a form, that is to say. in
which lhc whole of p ' aJ I ' , elf .. ,
. run usto!")' groups Its anew Ul unages appropnate to
that CClltury-only there docs the concept of a primal history of the nineteenth
centu ha .
ry vc mcarung. [N3a.2)
Is a\Vak' h.c .
. pcr aps UIC SynthesiS of dream consciousness (as thesis) and wak-
tng COWaou.mess (as anril.hesis)? Then the Illoment of awakening would be
identicaJ with thr: "now of recognizability," in which things put on their trur:-
suntalist-face. Thus. in Proust. the imponance of Staking an entire life On life's
suprcrur:ly dialr:ctical point of rupture: awakening. Proust begins with an r:voca..
tion of thr: space: of somr:orx: waking up. [N3a.3]
"If J insist on this mr:chanism of contradiction in the biography of a writer . . . , it
is because his train of thought cannot bypass certain facLS which a logic.
diffc.rc:nt from that of his thought by itself. It is becawt= there is no idea he adhen:.s
to that truly holds up ... in the face: of certain simple, elemental facts: that
Vt'Orkers are staring down t:bt. bam:1s of cannons aimed at them by police, that
war is threatening, and that fascism is already enthroned .. . . It bdlooycs a man,
for the sake of his dignity, to submit his ideas to thae faw, and not to bend thesr:
faw, by some conjuring trick. to his Kfeas, bowcva ingenious." Aragon. "D'AI
fred de Vigny " Avdeenko," Commune. 2 (April 20. 1935), pp. 808-809. But it is
entirely possiblr: that, in contradicting my past, I will establish a continuity with
that of another, which he in rum, as communist. will contradict. In this case. with
the past of Louis Aragon, who in this same essay disavows his POYJon rk Paris:
"And, like most of my friends, I was partial to the failures, to what is monstrous
and cannot cannot succeed .... I was likr: them: I preferred eITOr to its
opposite" (p. 807). [N3a.4]
In the diaJectical image, what has been within a particular r:poch is always,
simultaneously, "what has been &om time immr:morial." A3 such, however, it is
manifest, on each occasion, on1y to a quite specific epoch-namely. dle one in
which humanity, rubbing irs eyes, recognizes just this particular dream image as
such. It is at this moment that the historian takes up. \ol,'ith regard to that image,
the talk of dream interpretation. [NUl
The expression "the book of nature" indicateS that one can read the rea1like a
text. And that is how the reality of the ninetemth cenrury will be treated here. W:
open the book. of what happened. (N'.21
JUSt as Proust begins the story of his life \vi.th an awakening, so must
presentation of history begin with awakening; in fact, it should t:reat of nothing
e1se. 11Us one, accordingly, deals with awakening from the nineteenth century.
IN"')
111e realization of dream elements in the course of waking up is the cali on of
dialeCllcs. 1t is paradigmatic for the thinker and binding for the histolian. [NolA)
Raphael seck! to correct the Marxist conception of the normative char3cter of
Creek art : '' If the normative: character of Greek art is ... an explicable fact of
history, ... we will havt , . to detemline ... what special conditions led to each
renascence and, in consequence:, what special factors of ... Greek art these
adopted as model". For the totality of Greek art never posscssed a
normative chal<lcter: the renascences ... have their own proper history .... On1y
a historical analysis can indicate the el<l in which the abstract notion of a 'nonn'
. .. of antiquity was bam .... This notion was crc::ated solei)' by the Rr:nais
sance-that is. by primitive capitalism-and subsequently taken up by classicism.
which ... colTltnCnccd to assign it its place: in a historical sequence. Marx has not
advanced along this way in the full meouure of the possibilities of historica1
materialism." Max Raphael. Proudhon. Mane, Picasso rParis (1933 , pp. 178-179.
'.5)
It is tbr: pc:culia.rity of IcdJnolDgital forms of production (as opposed to an forms)
that their pn>gras and their success an= proportionate to the "tJllJparrnq of their
social content. (Hence glass arr.hitecturt:,) [N4,61
An important passage in Marx: Mit is that where ... the epic, for
e.'UllJlple ... is concerned ... . certain signi6cant creations within the compass of
art are possible on1y at an early stage of artistic development. If this is the case
with regard to differem branches of art within the sphert: of the arts, it is not so
remarkable that this should also be the case with regard to the whole artisti c
realm and its relation to the general developmem of the society:" Cited without
references (perhaps 1heorien deJ MtlmrJJ, vol. 1?)' in Max Raphael, Proudhon,
MO"-J PiCOJJo (Paris (1933), p. 160. [N4a. I)
The Mar.<ian theory of art: one momr:nt swaggering, and the. next scholastic.
[N4a,2]
ProlKllal for a gradatiun of the I upt'nlructui"t . in A. Asturaro, II mareriolumo
Itorico e In lociowsin 8ene,.o/e (Cenoa, 1904) (reviewed by Erwin 511aOO in Die
neue Mit, 23. no. I [ tUIl!l;l1rt] . fl . 62): " Economy. Family and kinship. Law. War.
Politic,. Mt)rality. Religion. Art . Stif' oce." [N4a,3)
Strange n=mark by Engels conce:ming "sociaJ forces": "But when once: their
nature is Wlderstood, they can, in the hands of the producers \\'Orking together,
bl: transformed from mas ter demons imo willing servants." (I) Engds, Die
Entw;(A/ung deJ SolialirmuJ IN1I dtr Utop;,. lur WW(7lJcwifl (1882).' [N4:l,4]
.\IlIr:o.: . in uflcrwMl1 I() the l!ccond .'dhiull uf DIU K/lpiwl : " Research hal 10
ul'pr,.,priat c the mlllcl'in1 ill d,'l uil . 10) 1l ll ll lyzI' it H f(ll'lnll of development . to
trn('" uU! Il lei r illlwr 1' lI l1 neftil'l n . Oul )' Iffll' r thiij work i8 (lone call 1111' IIctll aJ
1w ill (''' '''''' Sp'llil linl' fUlIili"ll . If this done SU(!ccssrull y. ir the
lir,. uf thr mat.eria l ill rf' fl l'lh d buck lIiI t lu' " it IIHl y 111' I)I'lir as ir wt! Iflul hefort!
It" II I)riuri Kllr1 Mllrx. KIJpj " d. vol I, ed . Korsch (Berlin
IIJ3:h); p. 45. III [Nola. .5)
The partirular difficuJty of doing historical research on the period following
the close of the eighteenth century will be displayed. With the rise of the mass.
circulation press., the sources become irulUmerable. [N4a,6]
Mjcheici is Ik.rfectl y willing to lei the people be knowll as " barbariQlIs." "; Bar.
burioIl8.' I like the word. and I accept the term." And he says of their wril ers:
"Their IOl'e is boundless ami 80metimcll t oo grea l , for they may devol e Ihcmselve8
to details wilh Ihe delightfulawkwardne!l!l of Albrecht DUrer, or with the exceuive
,)olisia of J ean-J acques Rousseou , who d0e8 llol concea.l his a rt ellough; and by thU
minute deLaii they compromi8e.the whole. We. musl nOI hlame them 100 mu.;h. It La
... the luxuri ance of their u p allil vigor .. , . Thi8 8ap wanll to give ever ything at
once--Ieaveil . fruit. and flowe u; il bend8 nnd twislI the hranches. Tbese defeell of
many grt:al workeu arc of len found in my books, whi ch laek their good qualitie8.
No matter!" J . M..i cheJet , Le PeufJle (Paris. 1846) , pp. xxxvi-xxxvii. It [N5,1)
Lener from Wiesengrund of August 5, 1935: "The attempt to reconcile your
'dream' momentum-as the subjective element in the dialectical image-with the:
conception of the latter as model has led me to some formulations . .. : With the
vitiation of their use value, the alienated things are hollowed out and, as ciphers,
they draw in meanings. Subjectivity takes possession of them insofar as it invests
them with intentions of desire and fear. And insofar as defunct things stand in as
images of subjective intentions, these latter present themsdves as immemorial
\
and eternal. Dialectical images are canstellated between alienated things and
incoming and disappearing meaning, are instantiated in the moment of indiffel\
cnce between death and meaning. While things in appearance are awakened to
what is newest, death transforms the meanings to what is most ancient." Wtth
regard to these reSections, it should be kept in mind that, in the nineteenth
century, the number of "hollowed-out things increases at a rate and on a scale
that was previously unknown, for technica.l progress is continually withdrawing
newl y introduced objects from circulation. [N5.2J
"The criti c can start from any form of theoretical or practical consciousness, and
develop out of the actual forms of existing reality the true reality as what it ouglu
to be, that which is its aim." Karl Marx, Dn' hiJlorische MaterialiJmUJ: Die Friill
Jchnjlen, ed. Landshut and Mayer {Lcipzig (1932 , vol. 1, p. 225 Oetter &om
Marx to Ruge; Kreuzenach, September 1843).'1The point of departure invoked
here by Marx need not nece.ssari.ly connect with the latest stage of development.
It can be undertaken with regard to longvanished epochs whose "ought to be"
and whose aim is then to be presented-not in reference to the next stage of
development, but in its own right and as prefonnation of the final goal of history.
[N5.3]
Engels says (Marx und ETlgelJ ii!Mr m erhoch: AUJ tb:m Ntuhla.u, MarxEngels
Archiv, ed. Rjazanov, vol. 1 [Frankfurt am Main p. 300): "Il must not be
forgotten that law has just as liltle an independent history as rcligion."ll What
,
holds ror law and religion holds for culture even more. It would be absurd for US
to conceive of the classless society, its fonDS of existence, in the image of cuJtu.ra.I
humanity. [N5,4)
" Our r ry must he: f{t'form of 11(\1 til rough dogma!!. hut
Ihe u"alysid of mrSlkAI thnl to il li df. whether it
IIppi'uri ill II religious or II )lulitil-lI 1 form. Then l"H!o pl e wi ll $ee tha i the wO!ld haa
IUllg pOB!;essed Ihe (Ircam !If II thing- and lhlll it olil y 10 Ihe con-
of Ihili lhin(; ill ortll'r n ' all y Itl lJ08seu it :' Karl Marx. Der hiuoruche
Die FriihscllrijlCJI . ed . LundshUI 1t llilMayer (Leipzig ( 1932 ). \'01.
I. PI" 22(.....227 (Ietttr from Ma rx 10 Ruge; Krellzenuch. Sept ember 1843). It
[N5a,l )
A reconciled humanity will take leave of its past-and olle fonn of reconciliation
is gaiety. "The present German regime .... the nullity of the ancien rtgime
exhibitc:d for all the world to set, ... is only the comedian of a world order whose
hfflJeJ are dead. History is thorough, and passes through many stages when
she carries a worn-out fonn to burial. The last stage of a world-historical form is
its comedy. The gods of Greece, who had already been mortally wounded in the
Prornelheu..s BOI/Tld of Aeschylus, had to die yet again-this time a comic death-in
the dialogues of Lucian. Why does history follow this course? So that mankind
may take leaVl: of its past gaily. tI Karl Marx, Du hiI/orisck Ma/crialiImUJ: au
FrUMchnjlat, ed. Landshut and Mayer (Leipzig), vol. 1, pp. 268 ("Zur Kritik der
Hegelschen RechlJphilfJSophie").ll Surrealism is the death of the nineteenth century
in comedy. [N5a,2]
(MtlrX lind Engeb iiber F'ellerbacll : Aus dem Nach/rlu, Marx Euge.la Archil',
vol. I [Fra nkfurl tUIl Main ( 1928)] , p. 301): '"Therl'" is no hi story ofpolitic8. law.
.IIcience., t'"tc., of art , religion. [N5a,3]
Die heilige foumilit'. on thl'" subject uf Bacon' s materialism: " Matt er, surrounded
by a S(' 1l 8UOUa I'IJt!tic gillmur, SI'elllS 10 IIltraCI man's wlltlle elllil Y wilh winning
Iihli les:' 11 [N5aAJ
" 1 regret ha,ing Ireatc(1 in only 1.1 \' er y ill compl etr ma nlier those facts of dail y
t'Xisleno:e--foo!l, ciOlbing, shch('r, family eivil law. social
.... luti OIl:!--witirh IUlve nlwa ys lJL'C1I of prime COll ce ru ill Iht" lift: of II .... grea l major-
it y uf SeignoiJoil . lJ;stoire sincere de In 1I (I,iim /rfllu;tJ;se
'1933). " . xi. [N5a.51
Ad notam a fornlula ofVaUry's: "What distinguishes a truly general phenome-
11011 is its [N5a,6]
Barbarism lurks in the ver)" concept of cultUl"t"!- as the concept of a fund of values
which is indepcndem not, indeed, of lhe production process in which
these vruues originated, but of the one in which they survive. In this way they
serve the apotheosis of the latter ("'"Oro uncertain>, barbaric as it may be.
(N5a,7]
To determine how the concept of culture arose, what meaning it has had in
different periods, and what nec:ds its instirution corresponded to. It could, insofar
as it signifies the sum of;jcultural riches," tum out to be of recent origin; certainly
it is not yet found, for example, in the cleric of the early Middle Ages who waged
his war of annihilation again .. ! the teachings of antiquity. [N6, 1]
MicheJet-an aulhor who, wherever he is quOted, makes the reader forget the
book in which the quotation appears. [N6.2]
To be wlderlined: the painstaking delineation of the scene in the first writings on
socia] problems and charity, like Naville, De fa Charitlligale; Fregier, Da Claues
do.ngereuses; and various others. (N6.3)
" I callnot imillt too 8trongly on the facl that , for an enli ghtened nlateriolisl like.
Larorgue, economio dctermi nillm iK 1I 0t the ' absolutely perfeci ill KlruDl Cllt' which
'can provide the key t o aU the problems of hist ory. ' " DrctolJ. PosiluJII
poUtique du sUrri!ali.sme (Paris <1935 , Pl'. 8-9. [N6,4)
All historical knowledge can be represented in the image of balanced scales, one
tray of which is weighted with what has been and the other with knowledge of
what is present. Whereas on the first the facts assembled can never be too
hwnble or too numerous, on the second there can be oruy a few heavy, massive
,vcigln.. [N6,5]
"'The only Ilttitudl! worthy or philosophy . .. in the indus trial era is ... restraint.
The '8Cientili cily' of a Marx nol mean t hat philosophy renOUDce8 ill ta,k ... ;
rather. it indicatel lhat philosOI>hy hoMs itself in reserve \llllil illt' predominance
or an unworthy reality is broken." Hugo F'i seher. Kurt Mun. ulld seill VerhjjJt,. ...
:z;u Staat ulld Wiruchuft (Jella , 1932), p. 59, [N6.6)
It is not without significance that Engels, in the context of the materialist concep-
tion of history, lays emphasis on classicality. For the dcmoDl;tration of the dialec-
tic of development, he refers to laws "which the actual historical process itsdf
provides, insofar as every momentum can be conside.red to be at the point of its
full ripening, its classical.ity." Cited in Gustav Mayer, Fnedn"cn Ellgelr, vol. 2,
Engrls uud der Atifstieg der Arbeirtrbewegung III Europa (Berlin (1933), pp. 434-
435. IN'.1]
Engels in a leit er to) /'tI..,hrinl;. july 14. 1893: " It i IIho\t> all this IItD.hIHUN' of an
independent history of st at e of liy&11'1'lU of law, of
liunl in every 5epUrall! Ilomain. thaI daulOi mOill people. If Luther II IltI Calvin
' o,ercome' the offi cial Calholir. religioll , or Uegcl 'overcomell' Ficht e and Kanl , or
Rousseau with his roJlllhLi call Curll r(lf ,oci(ll ilJllirt:clly 'ovcrl:omt:s' the conslilu.
tional MonteslIi tlu. this il a prm:eu which rf'mailll! within theology, philosophy.
or political sciellce. represt:uts II stll gc in the of these part.i Clllar spheres of
tllOUgll1 and nevr. r paues beyoud 8pl1l:re of thought. And si nce the bourgeois
illu.s iull of the eternity a ll (1 fi nalit y or cQpital ill1 protlucliou lin been added to this,
(,lell Iht' o,ercoming of till' mf'rcantili sts hy the phy, iocrats and Adam Smith is
rt'gnrded as a II heer victory of Ihought; nut as the refl ection in thought or changed
t'Ill ntlmi(' fael.il, bUI u the finoUy achie",!d correcl understa nding or actual contli -
5ubsisting alway, onel everywhere. "I. Cited in Gustav 1'!fayer, Friedrich
Engel.s. vol. 2, Engels lind der All/sties der- ArbeiterbewegunS in Europa (Berlin),
PII . MjO-"5L [N6a.l )
" What Schl osser couJd say in response 10 Ihe8e r eproaches [ur peevillb moral
rigor J. aud what he 1l10ulil lIay. is thi,: that IU810ry and life in general. unlike
nOl'els allli stories, do 1I0t teMch a lell80IJ of superfi cial j oit' de vivre, even t o the
happily eonstituted spirit and senses ; that the contemplation or hi story is more
likely 1.0 inilpirtl. if nOI cont empt ror humanity, then Ii vision or the world
alld stri ct prind plt'li for Living; that, at least on Ihe very great est judges or the
world and huma nkind , on men who knew how tel measure outward affairs by their
OWII inlier life. 011 II ShakeBpelire. Dante. or MaehiaveUi, the way of the world
always IIlacie the 6"rt or inlpreu ion lhat conduces to seriousness and Heverity."
G, G. Cervin"s , Friedrich CI,r-utoph SchloJler(Leipzig. 1861), in Deut.sehe Denh-
r-eden, ed. Rud olf Borchardt (Muni ch. 1925). ,). 312. [N6a,2]
The relation of tradition to the technology of reproduction deserves to be stud
ied. "Traditions ... re.late to written communications, in general, as reproduction
of the latter by pen relates to reproduction by the press, as successive copies of a
book relate to its simultaneow printings." Carl Gustav Jochmann, die
Sprack (Heidelberg, 1828). pp. 259-260 ("Die Riioochritte der Poesie")."
[N6.,3]
Roger Caillois, ;jParis, my the modeme" (Nouvelle Revue jra1l{aiJe, 25, no, 284
[May 1, 1937], p. 699), gives a list of the investigations that one would have to
undertake in order [0 illuminate the subject further. (1) Descriptions of Paris that
antedate the nineteenth tenruey (Marivaux, Restif de La Bretonne); (2) the strug
gle between Girondists andJacobins over the relation of Paris to the provinces;
the legend of the days of revolution in Paris: (3) secret police under the Empire
the Restoration; (4) ptillture InQr-ale of Paris in Hugo, Balzac, Baudelaire; (5)
descriptions of the city: Dulaurc. Du Camp; (6) Vigny, Hugo (Paris
aflame m L'Annel' ttmb1t). Rimbaud, [N7.1)
to be established is t.he corutection between presence of mind and the
rncthod" of dialectical materialism. It's not just thai one t.vill always be able to
detcct a dialectical process in presence of miud, regarded as one of the highest
fomu of appropriate behavior. 'What is even more decisive is that the dialectician
cannot look on history as anything other than a constellation of dangers which
he is always, as he follows its development in his thought, on the point of
avening. [N7,2j
" I{evolutioll is 8 tlrll mll nl ore thlln II history. lind itil pathos ill II I:fllldition
at imperious 11 8 its authenticity!' 81aDllui , cited in Geffroy, 'j 'Enferme (Pari.,
1926). vol. I, p, 232. [N7.3]
Necessity of paying heed over many years to every casua1 citation, every Setting
mention of a book.. [N7,4]
To contraSt the theory of history with the observation by Grillparzer which
EdrnondJaJoux traIUlates in ':Journaux intimes" (Le 7'emPJ, May 23, 1937): "To
read into the future is difficult, but to see purely into the past is more difficult still.
I say purely, that is, without involving in this retTospective glance anything that
has taken place in the meantime." The "purity" of the gaze is not JUSt difficult but
impossible to attain. [N7,5]
It is important for dIe materialist historian. in the most rigorous way possible, to
differentiate the construction of a historical state of affairs from what onc custom-
arily calls its "reconstruction," The "reconstruction" in empathy is one-elimen-
sional. "Corutruction" presupposes "destruction." [N7,6j
In order for a part of the past to be touched by the present instant <AMllaiitat>,
there must be no continui ty between them. (N7.7]
The fore- and after-history of a historical phenomenon show up in the pbalome
non itself on the strength of its dialectical presentation. What is more: every
diaJectically historical circumstance polarizes itself and becomes a force
field in which the confrontation between its fore-history and after-history is
played out.. It becomes such a field insofar as the present instant it..
<See N7a, 8.) And thus the historical evidalce polarizes into fore- and after-his-
tory always anew, never in the same way. And it does so at a distance from its
own existence, in the present instant itself-like a line which, divided according
to the Apollonian section,lJ experiences its partition from outside itself. (N7a.1]
Historical materialism aspires to neither a homogeneous nor a continuous
sition of history. From the fact that the supersO'Ucture reacts upon the base, It
follows that a homogeneous history, say, of economics exists as little as a homoge'
neous history of literature or of jurisprudence, On the other hand, since the
clifferent epochs of the past are not all touched in the same degree by the present
day of the historian (and often the recent past is not touched at all; the present
fails to "do it justice"), continuity in the presentation of history is unattainable.
[N7a,2]
,
\
Telescoping of the past through the present. [N7a,3]
111e reception of great, much admired works of art is an ad plum ire_rJ [N7a,4)
-me materialist presentation of hi story leads the past to bring the present into a
crirical state. [N7a.5)
It is my intention (0 withswld what Vale.ry calls "a reading slOWed by and
bristling \Vim the resisWICCS of a refined and fastidious reader." Charles Baude-
laire. UJ Flam dll mai, Introduction by Paul Valery (Paris. 1928), p. xiii,u
[N7<l,6J
My thinking is related to theology as blotting pad is related to ink. It is saturated
wim ,,*re one to go by the blotter, however, nothing of what is written would
remam. (N7a,7)
It is the present that polarizes the event into fore- and after-history_
[N7a.8]
On the question of the incompleteness of history, Horkheinler's letter of March
16, 1937: "The determination of incompleteness is idealistic if completeness is
nOI comprised within it. Past injustice has occumd and is completed. The slain
are really slain .... If one takes the lack of closure entirely seriously, one must
believe in the LastJudgment ... . Perhaps, with regard to incorupletale5S, there is
a difference between the positive and the negative, so that only the injustice, the
horror. the sufferings of me past are irrqxtrable. The justice practiced, the joys.
the v.'Orks, have a different relation to time, for their positive charaaer is largdy
negated by the transience of things. This holds firSt and foremost for individual
existence, in which it is not the happi.ness bUI the unhappiness that is sealed by
death." The corrective to this line of thinking may be found in the consideration
[hat history is not simply a scialce but also and not least a fonn of remembranct
What science has "determined," remembrance can modify. Such
mmdfulness can make the incomplete (happiness) into something complete, and
the complete (suffering) into something incomplete. That is theology; but in
remembrance we have an experience thai forbids us to conceive of history as
fundamentally atheological, little as it may be granted us to try to wri te it with
immediately concepts. [Na.l ]
The unequivocally regressive function which the doctrine of archaic images has
fOr Jung comes to light in the following passage fTOm the essay "Ober die Bezie-
hungen der analytischen Psychologie zum dichterisdlcn KUIlSrwerk": "The crea-
tive process ... consists in an unconscious activation of the archetype and in an
... of this original image into the finished work. By giving it shape,
the arnst m measurc translates this image into the language of the pre-
scn,t . . .. lies the signiJicOlncc of art : ... it conjures up the fornu in
which the Zeitb'ClSt, the Splnt of the age. is most lacking. The unsatisfied yeaming
,
of the artist reaches back to the primordial image in the unconscious which is best
fitted to compensate the ... one-sidedness of the spirit of the age. This image his
longing seizes Oll , and as he ... brings it to consciousness, the inlage changes its
fonn until it can be acccpted by the minds of his contemporaries, according to
their powers!' C. G. Jung, du Gegenwart (ZUrich, Leipug, and
Stuttgart. 1932), p. Thus, the esoteric theory of art comes down to making
archetypes "accessible" to the "Zeitgeis[." {N8,2]
InJung's production there is a belated and particu1arly emphatic claboration of
one of the dements which, as we can recognize today, were first di.sclosed in
explosive fashion by Expressionism. That dement is a specifically clinical nihil-
ism such as one encounters also in the: works of Berm, and which has found a
,
camp followc:r in CCline. TIlls nihilism is born of the shock imparted by the
interior of the body to those who bUt it. Jung b.irosdf traces the heightened
interest in psychic life back to Expressionism. He writes: "Art has w.ay of
anticipating future changes in man' s fundamental outlook, and expresSlOrust an
has taken this subjective tum well in advance of the more general change." See
Seelenprobleme der Gegenwart (ZUrich, Lcipug, and Stuttgart, 1932), p. 415-
"Das Seelenproblem des modemen In this regard, we
lose sight of the relations which Lukacs has established between Expresslonum
and Fascism. (See also K7a,4.) [N8a,I}
"Tradition, erranl fable one coUecllI, I I.nlermittenl liS the wind in the leave . ...
Vi ctor Hugo. La Fin de Soton (Paris. 1886). p. 235. {NSa,2) ...
Julien Benda, in Un Rigulier daTU Ie si},k, cites a phrase from Fuste1 de Cou
Ianges: "lfyou want to relive an epoch, forget that you know what has come after
it." 1ba.t is the secret Magna Charta for the presentation of history by the
Historical School, and it carries linle conviction when Benda adds : "Fustd
said that these measures were valid for Wlderstanding the role of an epoch m
history." {NSa,3]
I
.. f
Pursue the question of whether a connea:ion existS between the secu anzaFlOn 0
time in space and the allegorical mode of perception. The former, at any rate (as
becomes clear in Blanqui's last writing), is hidden in the "worldview of
nannai sciences" of the second half of the cenrury. (Secu1ariz.ation of history in
Heidcgger. )16
{N8a,4]
Goethe saw it corning: the crisis in bourgeois education. He confronts it in
Wilhelm Meister. He characterizes it in his correspondence with Zeiter. [N8a.5}
Wtlhclm von Humboldt shifts the center of gravity to languages; Marx
Engels shift it to the natura! sciences. But the study of languages has cronoll
uc
functions, too. It comes up against global economics! as the study of natural
sciences comes up against the production process. IN9. I]
Scienti6c method is distinguished by the fact that, in leading to new objects, it
develops ncw methods. JUSt as fornl in art is distinguished by the fact that,
opening up new contents, it develops new forms. h is only from 'Nithout that a
work. of art has one and dilly onc fonn. that a treatise has one and only one
method. (N9,2]
On the concept of "rescue M: the wind of the absolute in the sails of the concept.
(The principle of the wind is the cyclical.) The trim of the sails is the relative.
IN',3}
Whar are phenomena rescued from? Not only. and not in the main, from the
discredit and neglect into which they have fall en, but from the catastrophe repre-
sented vcry often by a certain strain in their dissemination, their "enshrinement
as heritage." - TIley are saved through the exhibition of the fissure within
them.- There is a tradition that is catastrophe. [N9,4]
It is the inherent tendency of dialectical experience to dissipate the semblance of
eternal sameness, and evcll of repetition. in history. Authentic political experi -
ence is absolutely free of this semblance. (N9,5]
What matters for tile dialectician is to have the ,'lind of world history in his sails.
Thinking means for him: setting the sails. What is imponam is how they an:: set.
\-\bIds are his sails. The way they arc set makes them into concepts. fN9,6]
The dialectical image is an image that cmerges suddenl y. in a Bash. "What has
been is to be held fast- as an image Bashing up in the now of its recognizability.
The resOle that is carried out by these Dlearul-and only by these-can operate
soldy for the sake of what in the next moment is already irretrievably lost. In this
connection, see the metaphorical from my introduction to J ochmann,
, concerning the- prophetic gaze that catches fire from the summits of the past. 'P
[N' ,7}
Being a dialectician means having the wind of history in one' s sails. The sails arc
the concepts. It is not enough. howNer. to have sails at onc='s disposal. What is
decisive is knowing UI(: art of setting them. [N9,8]
concept of Pl'Ob'TCSS must be b'TOunded in ule idea of catastrophe. 11lat
tlungs are "status quo" is thc Cata5lrophe. It is nOI an ever-present possibili ty but
what in cach case is briven. Thus Su-indbcrg (in 10 Dama.fCus?) :1. hell is not
something that awaits us, but this life here and now. [N9a.1 I
It is good to give materialist investigations a truncated ending. (N9a,2]
10 the process of resale belongs (he finu. scemingly brutal grasp. (N9a.3]
The dialectical image is that fonn of the historical object which satisfies Goethe's
requirements for the object of analysis: to exhibit a genuine synthesis. It is the
primal phenomcnon of history. [N9a.4]
The enshrinement or apologia is meant to cover up the revolutionary moments
in the OCCUITena=: of history. At heart, it seeks the establislullCIU of a continuity. It
sets store only by those dements of a work that have already emer ged and played
a part in its reception. The places where tradition breaks off-hence its peaks and
crags, which offer footing to one who wouid cross over them- it misses.
[N9a,51
Historica1 materialism must renouncc the epic element in history. It blasts thc
epoch out of the reified "continuity of history." But it also cxplodes the homoge-
neity of the epoch, interspersing it with ruins-that is, with r.he prescnt. [N9a,6]
In every true work of art there is a place where, for one who removes there, it
blows cool like the wind of a coming dawn. From this it follows that art, which
has often been considered refractory to every relation with progress, can provide
its true definition. Progress has its seat nOl in the continuity of elapsing time but
in its interferences- where the truly new makes itself felt for the first time, with
the sobriety of dawn. [N9a,7]
Fbr the materialist historian, cvery epoch with whid1 he occupies himself is only
prehistory for the epoch he himself must live in. And so, for him, thcre can be no
appearance of repetition in history, sina=: precisely those moments in the. course
of history which matter most to him, by virtue of their indu as "fore-history,"
becomc moments of the present day and change their specific character accord-
ing to the catastrophic or triumphant nature of that day. [N9a,8]
Scientifi c progress-like historical progress-is in each instance merely the first _
step, never the second, third, or n + l -supposing that these latter cver belonged
not just to the workshop of science but to its corpus. That, however, is not in faa
the case; for every stage in the dialectical process (like every stage in the process
of history itself), conditioned as it always is by evcry stagc preceding, brings intO
play a fundamentally ncw tendency, which necessitates a fundamentally new
treatment. The dialectical mcthod is thus distinguished by the fact that, ill leading
to new objects, it develops new methods, just as fonn in art is distinguished by
the fact that it .develops new forms in delineating ncw contents. It is on.ly from
without that a work of art has onc and ()1/1y one fonn, that a dialcctical r:reatise has
onc and only one method. (Nt O, I]
Definitions of basic historica1 concepts: Catastrophe-to have missed the oppar
[Unity. Oritical moment-the staws quo threatens to be preserved. Pl"Ob'TCSS-the
first revolutionary measure taken. (N I 0.2]
If thc object of history is to be blasted Ollt of the continuum of historica1 succcs+
sion, that is because its monadological structure demands it. structure first
comes to light in the extracted object And it does so in thc fonn of the
bistOI;cal confi'Ollmtion that makcs lip the interior (and, as it were, the bawds) of
the historica1 objecr. and into which all the forces and interests ofhisLOry enter on
a reduced scale. It is owiog to this monadologica1 structure that the historical
object finds represented in its interior its own forehistory and after-history.
(Thus, for example, the forehistory of Baudelaire, as educed by current scholar-
ship. resides in allegory: his after-history, inJugendstil.) (N1O,3]
FomUng the b.'lSis of tl1e confrontation with conventional historiography and
is thc polemic against empathy (Grillparzer, Fuslel de Cou-
langes). [NtO,", ]
The Saint-Simonian Barrault distinguishes between ipoqur.r IJrgallique.r and ipo-
qun ",liqurs. (Sec U15a,4.> The derogation of the critica1 spirit begins direct1y
after the victory of the bourgeoisie in the Ju1y Revolution. [Nl O,S]
The destructive or critica1 momentum of matCl;alist historiography is registered
in that blasting of historical continuity with which the historical objea first consti-
ruces itsclf. In fact, an object of history cannot be targeted at all within the
continuous elapsc of history. And so, from time immemorial, historica1 narration
has simply pickcd out an object from this continuous succession. But it has done
so I-VithOut foundation, as an expedient; and its first thought was then always to
reinsert thc object into the continuum, which it would create ane\V through
empathy. Materialist historiography docs nOI choose its objects arbitrarily. It
does not fastcn on thcm but rather springs them loose from thc order of succes
sion. Its provisions arc more extensive, its occurrences more essential. [NIOa,l]
[ForI the destructive momentum in materialist historiography is to bc conceived
as the reaction to a constellation of dangers, which threatens both the burden of
tradition and those who receive it. It is this constcllation of dangers which the
materialist presentation of history comcs to engage. In this constellation is com-
prised its actuality; against its threat, it must prove its presence of mind. Such a
presentation of history has as goal to pass, as Engels puts it, '; beyond dle sphere
of thought."19 [NIOa.2]
10 thinking belongs the movement as well as the arrest of thoughts. Where
thinkillg comes to a standstiU in a constellation samrated \"';111 tensions-there
the dialcctica1 image appears. It is the caesura in the movement of thought. Its
Position is naturall y not an arbitrary onc. IL is to be fOWld. in a word. where thc
tension between dialectical opposites is greatest. Hence, tl1C object constrtl cLCd in
materialist presentatioll of itself the dialectical Ullage. TIle latter is
1?entical witll the historical object: it justifies its violent expulsion from tl1C con-
IJ.nuum of historical process. fN 1 Oa,3]
TIle archaic form of primal history, which has been summoned up in every
epoch and now onC( more by Jung, is that" form which .makes semblance in
history still more delusive b)' mandating nature as its homdand. [Nil , I}
-10 write history means giving dates therr physiognomy. (N1l.2]
'Ole evolts sWTOtlllding the historian. and in which he himself takes pan. will
underlie his presentation in the fonn of a leXt written in invisible ink. The history
whi ch he lays before lhe reader comprises, as it were, the citations occurring in
tlus text. and it is only these ci tations that occur in a manner legible to all, To
write history thus means to citl! history. It belongs to the concept of citation,
however. that the historical obj ect in each case is tom from its COntext. [Nl l ,3)
On the dementary doctrine of historical materialism, (1) An object of history is
that through which knowledge is constituted as the object's rescue. (2) History
decays into inlages, not int o Stories, (3) Wherever a dialectical process is realized,
we dealing \\ir.h a monad. (4) The materialist presentation of history carries
along with it an immanent critique of the concept of progress. (5) Historical
materialism bases its procedures on long experienC(. common sense, presence of
mind, and dial ectics. (On the monad: NlOa,3. ) [NII ,4)
The present determines where, in the object from the past, that object's fore-
history and afterhistory diverge 50 as to circumsaibe its nucleus. [NII ,5]
To prove by example th:ll only Marxism can practice great philology, where the
literature of the previous cenrury is concerned. [Nll .6J
"The regions which wen: the first to become enlightened are not those where the
sciences have made the greatest progress." Turgot, Oefllms, vol. 2 (Paris, l844),
pp. 601- 602 ("Second discours sur les progres succcssifs de I'esprit hUlUain"}.M
The tllought is taken up in the lata literature, and also in Marx. [N1I .1J
In the course of the nineteenth century. as the bourgeoisie consolidated its posi-
tions of power, the concept of progress would increasingly have forfeited the
critical functions it originally possessed. (In this process. the docuine of natural
selection had a decisive role to play: it popularized the Dotion that progress was
automatic. The extension of the concept of progress to the whole of human
activity was funhered as a result.) With Turgot, the concept of progress still had
its critical functions. In particular, the concept made it possible to direct people's
attention 10 retrograde tendencies in history. Turgol saw progtUS, charac-
teristically, as guarrultd abo,'e all ill the realm of malhematical research.
{Nlt a, l )
" Hul Whll l II 1l 11i!1IUI 'i. lin: (If men', opinions prest: llt!! Thert: I 8t ..e k thtl-
1','OgJ' Ch or Ihl' humun IIlitlll , uml I find \'irluull y "(lIlting but th e. his lory of iu
errllrl. Wh), iii its ctlurM"-which U so liurtl-. from Ihe ver y fir8t in Ihe field of
maihema ticul llUdi efI.--M.I llnlleady in every tiling else. and 10 IIpt to go IIltra)'? . .
In tlus slow of opini ons and errors. ' .. I I.ha l T I!t:e fl Ml I
whk h nat UM! has gi \'f'n to the newl ,. ! rowing skms or Illall t..
he fnre them from tllf' ('lI rlh. ami "" ilher ing om' I, ), one liS o,her dlwaths
cum!: intu existence. uutil lit du' sl, ' 11I il self mukes ill! BIJPCllrtUICC and
is t r OWII L'ti with fillwers and rruit-n e)'mLol "r late-eme.rging I.rulh. ,. 1'urgol.
Oeuvres, YOI. 2 (Paris, IIW4). Jlp. 600 ... 601 ("'St:eond liiseoll rl! il ur leI "rogre. &ue.-
de l' I".JI 11ril bumoi o "). 31 [Nlla.2}
A to progress still exists in Turgol: "In later times, ... it was necessary for
them. through reflection, to take themselves back to where the first men had been
led by blind instinct. And who is not awart that it is hen: that the supreme efl'on
of reason lies?" Turgot, Oeutfft!J, vol. 2, p. 610.,;t This limit is still present in Marx;
later it is lost. [Nll a,3]
Already with Turgot it is evident that the concept of progress is oriented toward
scientt. but has its corn::!ctive in art. (At bottom, not even art can be ranged
exclusively under the concept of regression; neither does J ochmann's essay de
,,'Clop this concept in an unqualified way.) Of course, Turgot's estimate of art is
different from what OUTS would be today. "Knowledge of nature and of truth is as
infinite as they are; the am, whose aim is to please us, are as limited as are.
T lI1le constantly brings to light new discoveries in the sciences; but poetry, paint-
ing, and music have a fixed limit which the genius of languages, the imitation of
narun:., and the limited sensibility of our organs determine. , .. The great men of
the Augustan age reached it, and are still our models." Turgot, Ol!uurt!s, vol. 2
(Paris, 1844), pp. 605-606 ("Second discours sur les progres successifs de I'esprit
humain").J3 Thus a programmatic rmunciation of originality in an! [N12,1)
''1'hf' re are clements or the BrtH of Iusle which could he perfected with time-for
example, Ili!r8pective, wlai c.h depends on Olll ics. Bul lot:ul color, the imitation or
nalure. and the expression or the passiolls .li re of all timCi. " Turgol , Oeuvr es, vol.
2 (Paria. 1844). p. 658 ("' PIIIII du &eeol.ld diar.ours sur I' hill ioire univeflidl e").34
[NI2,2)
Militant representation of progress: "It is not error tha.t is opposed to the progress
or truth; it is indolence, obstinacy, the spirit of routine. everything that contnb-
Utes to inaction.-The progJUs of even the most peaceful of artS among the
ancient peoples of Greece and tllcir republi cs was puncruated by continual wars.
was like the Jews' building the walls of J erusalem \\lith one hand whil e defend-
them with the other. TIleir spirits were always in fcnnent, their heam always
high with ad"cnturt; and each day was a funher enlightenment." Turgot,
(kUlJres, vol. 2 (P:uis, 1844), pp. 672 ("PensCes et fragments"). [N12,3}
Presence of mind as a political category comes magnificentl y to life in these
Words ofTurgot : "Before we have leamed to deal with things in a given position,
they have already changed several times. Thus. we always perceive events too
late, and politics always needs to foresee, so to speak, tbe present ." Turgot,
Or.llum, vol. 2 (Paris, 1844), p. 673 ("PcIJ.SC:es et fragment!").l'5 [N12a. lJ
"TIIl'- ... rluli cuUy uf Ihl" lIill Cleenth century rtnJllin8 \'il! ibl e to
IIii" .I ay. iii Ira&1 ill 11'8,;,'<1. II .... 118 <l hapt:d b y lhe railroad, .... focpi point ' of
Ihi a re presellt wherever .ntlunwin ulllltUIlIl e.1. cany"" and
viluluct . lorn:nt and funk ular, river and iron bridge ... revellol thei r kinli hip, .
hi ulltheir singularit), thl"U things announce that oalnre 11118 1101 witbtll"llwn. amid
Ihe t r iulliph or IC" hll ologica) civi.lillatioll. into the namdess anl l inchoate. Ihal the
pure ron, trurtion of brill ge or lunne! ,lili not in itself . the la ndsrape. but
UlIlt Ii" er and mountain at once took their side, and not all subjugated adversaries
bUI 110 8 friendl y po .... crt. .... The iron locomoth'e tha t di .8appears into the mountain
IUnllI' 1 seems ... to be relurning 10 its lIath'e element , where lhe raw material
out of whi ch il .... afl nUli le li es 8Iumbcring." Dolf Sternberger, Plinorflnlfl . oder
Ansicliren 110111 19. )lIJlrhrmde.rr (Ibmhurg. 1938), PI" 34-35. [N t 2a,2]
The concept of progress had to run counter to the critical theory of history from
the 1ll0l1lem it ceased to be applied as a oiterioo to specific historical develop-
ments and instead was requi red to me:asure the span bet\vc=en a le:genclary incep-
tion and a legendary end of history. In other words: as soon as it becomes the
signature of historical process aJ a whole, the concept of progress bespeaks an
uncritical hypostatization rather than a critical interrogation. TItis latter may be
recognized, in the concrete exposition of history, from the fact that it outlines
regression at least as sharply as it brings any progress into view. (fhus Turgot,
J ochmann.) [N13,1)
Lotze as critic of the concept of progress: "In opposition to the readily accepted
doctrine thai the progress of humanity is evu onward and upward, more cau-
tious reRection has been forced to make the discovery that the course of history
takes the fonn of spirals-some prefer to say epicydoids . In shan. there bas
never been a dearth of thoughtful but ve:i1ed acknowledgments that the impres
sion produce:d by history on the whole, far from being one of unalloyed exulta-
tion. is preponderantJy melancholy. Unprejudiced consideration will always
lament and wonde:r to stt bow many advantages of civilization and special
charms of life are lost, never to reappear in their integrity." Hermann Lotze,
Mikro*osmos, vol. 3 (Lcipzig, L864), p. 21:)1; fN13.2J
Loue as critic of the concept of progress: "I t is not ... clear how we are to
imagine one course of education as applying to successive generations of men,
allowing the later of these to panake of the fruits produced by ule ullrewarded
effortS and often by the misery of those who went before. To hold that the claims
of particular times and individual men may be scorned and all uteir misfortune:s
disregarded if only mankind would inlprove overall is, though suggested by
noble feelings, merely e:lIlhusiastic thougtu.icssness. .. Nothing is progress
whi ch docs nOt mean an increase of happiness and perfection for those very souls
which had sufTe:red in a previous imperfect state." Hermann Lotze, MiR.roR. osmru,
vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1864), p. 23.31 lIthe idea of progress extended over the totality of
recorded history is something peculiar to the satiated bourgeoisie, then Lotze
represents the reserves calJed up by !.hose on the defensive:. But contrast Holder-
lin: "T love the mce of men who are coming in the next cenruries."31 [N13.3J
A thoughtprovoking obselV'drion: "It is one of the most notewonhy peculiarities
of the human heart ... that so much selfuhness in individuals coexists with the
gt: nerallack of envy which every present day feels toward its future." This lack of
t:flvy indicates that the idea we have of happiness is deeply colored by the rime in
which we live. Happiness for US is thinkable only in the air that we have
breathed, among the people who have lived with us. In other words, there
vibrates in the idea of happiness (this is what that noteworthy circumstance:
teaches us) the idea of salvation. This happiness is founded on the very despair
and desolation which ours. Our life, it can be said, is a muscle soong
enough to contract the whole of historical time. Or, to put it differently, the
genuine conception of historical time: rests enrirely upon the image of redemp-
tion. ('1be passage is from Lotze, MiR. roR.OJmOJ, vol. 3 [Leipzig, 1864], p. 49.),ti
[N13a. lJ
Denial of the notion of progress in tlle religious view of history: "History, how-
ever it may move fonvard or Buctuate hither and thither, could not by any of itt
movements attain a goal lying out of its own plane. And we may spare ourselves
the oouble of seeking to find, in mere onward movement upon this plane, a
progress which history is destined to make not there but by an upward move-
ment at each individual point of its course forward." Hermann Loae., Mitrn*o.J
moo, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1864), p. 49,010 fN13a,21
Connection. in Lotze, betwc=en the idea of progress and the idea of redemption:
"The reason of the: ","'Orld would be turned to unreason if we did not reject the
thought that the work of vanishing generations should go on forever benefiting
only those who come later, and being irreparably wasted for the workers them-
selvcs" (p. 50). This cannot be. "unless the world itself, and all the flourish about
historical development, are to appear as vain and unintelligible noise . . ..
That in some mysterious way Lhe progress of history affects them, too-it is this
conviction that first entitles us to speak as ....'C do of humanity and its history"
(p. 5 1). Lotze calls this the "thought of t.he preservation and restoration of all
things" (p. 52). 11 [N13a, 3]
Cul tural history. according to Bernheim, developed out of the positivism of
Corme; Bcloch's Gretk Huto? vol. 1,> 2nd e:di tion, 1912) is, according to him, a
textbook example of Comtean inBuence. Positivist historiography "disregarded
. .. the state and political processes, and saw in the coUective intcllecrual develop-
ment of"society the sole content of history .... The elevation ... of cultural
history to the only subject worthy of historical research' " Ernst Bernheim. Mil-
ttiaiterlil/Je .<:,ritansc/Jauungm in i/Jmn EiriflUM atif RJlitiA. urul Gm.hi!/Jt.JJchnibung
1918), p. 8. [N14, I)
"' The logi.;al eali' gor y of timtl . 1000s nol gO"l:rl1 the \'t!r h 'II' IUII !:;h a.1I one m.i ght
St r ll nge u it mil )" seem, the of the future l lues not aplwa r to be
on IIII' suml! le"cI of til e IlIInllHl mimi all 1111'1 t'x:pruuiull or till' pust anti of
tlu.! I'rCl!l! nt. .. , future often has 1111 eXllrt8Jion ofiu OWlt ; or ir it has one. it i.
Ii compli caled tl.XpreNion withou t parallel to tbat of the pre5e1l1 or the , '8SI.' ...
' Therc is no reason to beli e"!! thai prehi ll t.orir Indo- European ever IH18St:8Si!d a
trut' future tense' (Meillet)," Jean-Richard BlOt: h, "tangage d ' utilit e. langage
l'ueli!lue" (Encyclopedie frnnt;ui&c, vol. 16 [16-50], 10) . [N14,2]
Sirnme.l touches on a very important matter wilh the distinction between the
concept or culture and the spheres of autonomy in classical Idealism. The separa.
tion of the three autonomous domains from one another preserved classical
Idealism from the concept or culture. that has so favored the cause of barbarism,
Simmd says of the cultural ideal: "It is essential that the independent val ues of
aesthetic, scientific, ethical. , ' . and even religious achievements be tranSC.eIlded,
SO that they can all be integrated as dements in the development of human
nature beyond its narura1 state." Georg Simmel, PhiJOJophie thJ Ge/dts (Lciprig,
1900), pp. 476-477."
"Tllt:re has never bet-Il a peri od of hif lor y in which the culture peculiar to it h
lea\'ened thl' whlli e of human.it y, ur ev!!.n til t" whole of tllat one nati on which w
IIpecially di stingui shed by it . AU degrt!CH and shades '.If morallHl rbllrislll , of mental
obtwencli , and of physical wrctclt ednellB have always heell found in juxt aposition
with cuhurt!d rd inl'.lllc.1I1 of life _ .. and free parti ci lHltion in lltt! be.ndiu of civil
nnl er.'" Herma nn Lutze. Mikrukosmo,. yol. 3 (Leipzig, Pl"
(N143,l)
Tu tlt e "iew that " Ihere is progress enough if. ' . , while the DlaSI of mankind
rtlmaius mired in 811 uncivilized conditi on. the civilizati ou or II slIl aU minority i8
constantl y " roggling upward t o veale.r and greater height .... l..otl!:e rell pondl with
the question: How, upon such assumptions. can we be entitled to speak of one
bistory of mllnkind?" Lotl!:e. f\ JikrokosmM, vol. 3. 1' . 25.1-4 [N1 4a,2]
I "
'"'The wily ill whi ch the euitur!' of past time i for tile I11 l1lil lI arl hll nded (own.
Lotze saY8, " \calis !lirc/tl y ba/,k to the vcry opl'oll il" of lllut at whi ch historical
,lc,.d opme.lIt shoultl aim: il Ihal ii , to the formatiol' of un ;nl tirlct of culture,
whi ch continuall y l ake!! up more and more of the ciem"nU of ci,i1i."a lion. tbul
muki ng of Ihal
C' OJlsc.iOU!J acti vit y by Ihe I= ITorl of whi ch the)" \<o'erl:! at fi rst ohlllineJ" (p .
Accordingly: '""The. progreu of ilcicncc i, nllt , . , ,lirm:t1y, human progrellB: II
wnll'" he- Ihi s ir. ill IJ rupOrlinn til tilt' illlll'eale in accumul ated Irul.l ui , the.re ",'ere
also a n ill!:n:.a.se in !lien '" e<)Jl cerli for tJI CIII .. . and in thl:! c1f'arnCl6 of Iheir in8ighl
,oneerning them." Lotze. Mikroko!llllu$. "01. 3. p. 29 .. [N14a,3]
Lutzi' I.In 1111111311il )': " It CIl IlII,,1 lit' !SAid thai ml' lI p"ow to what they a rc with a
cUII scioUl;n('ss of this growth. a mi with an accompllnyinj; rcrnj'mbrance or their
1'1"'ViOU8 "llIlIliIIOIl :' Lutze., Mikroko.'l mo,. vol. 3. p. 3 1: 1<1 (N14a,4J
Lotze's vision of history can be related to Stifter's: ;l that the unruly will of the
individual is always restri ctcd in its action by universal conditions Dot subject to
arbitrary will-conditions which an' to be found i.n the laws of .s piritual life in
general. in the established omu of nature . , . ., Lotze, vol. 3, p, 34.11
[NIb,S]
To be compared with Stifter's preface to Buntt Sitint <Colored Stones): '"'Let us at
the outset regard it a.s certain that a great effect is always due to a great cause,
!lever to a small one." HiJtoirt: de Julu vol. 1 (Paris, 1865) (Napoleon III) .
[N14a.61
A phrase which Baudelaire coirn for the consciousness of time peculiar to some-
one intoxicated by hashish can be appli ed in the definition of a revolutionary
historical consciousness, He speaks of a night in which he was absorbed by the
effects of hashish: "Long though it seemed to have been ... ,yet it also seemed to
have lasted only a few seconds, or even to have had no place in aU eternity."
<Bauddaire, (kuurtS, ed, Le Dantec (Paris, 1931), ) vol. 1, pp. 298-299."
(NIS.I )
At any givcn timc:. the living see themsdves in the midday of history. They are
obliged to prepare a banquet for the past. The historian is the herald who invites
the dead to the table. [N15,2J
On the dieteti cs or historical literature, The contemporary who learns from
books of history to recognize how long his present misery has been in prepara-
tiou (and this is what the historian must inwardly aim to show him) acquires
thereby a high opinion of his own powers. A history that provides tills kind or
inStruction does not cause him sorrow, bUI arms him. Nor does such a history
arise &om sorrow. unlike that which Flaubert had in mind when he pclUled the
COnfession: "Few ....-i1l suspct:t how depressed one had to be to wlde:rtake the
resuscitation of Canhage."" It is pure am-o.ritt that arises from and deepeJls
SOrrow. [N15,3J
Example of a "cultural historical" perspective in the \\IOrsc sense, Hu.izi.J1b'"
speaks of tile consideration displayed for the life of the cOllunon people in the
pastorals .of the late Middle Ages. "Here. too, belongs that interest in rags and
(alters which ... is already beginni ng to make il"self felt . Calendar miniatures
note with pleasure the threadbare knees of reapers in the field, while paintings
aCCC11luate the rags of mendicants .... Here begins the:. line that leads through
Rembrandt's cldtiugs and Murillo's beggar boys to the Street type5 of Steinlen."
J. Huizinga, Millt la/(tfj (Munich, 1928). p. 448.'" At issue. of c.ourse, is
actually a very specific phenomenon. (N15,41
'1'111' puet I"fl imagc& of it eel( in lit crar )" text . imll gt'! tu Ihule
... hiC' h a rc imprinted by light on II pliulo8e11 8ilh' e " I lite. The future alune IW800e11e.
tll' \'l'
lo
llCn acl h'c cnull gh to lean such $urfaees Many page!! in MonyalUl:
ur Houueau cOlllllin II myuenouA meaninr; ""hich Ihe 6,.. t n:adel"i or the1M': Iut.
rould nOI full ), line decil, herl!tl :' And'+' Monyond. Le
VII I. I . l..e Hero, preromlmtique (Crl' llOhle, 1930), 1" x.ii. [N15a,1}
A revealing vision of progress in Hugo, "Paris incendiC" (Lifnnit tanblt):
What! Saoifice everyt.hing! E,'co the grnnary!
What! 11K library. arch where dawn arises,
Unfathomable: ABC or the idc:al, where progress.
Elemal reader, Ic:ans on illl dbo\ ....s and drums ...
On the:. sty1c:. one should strive for: "It is through evc:ryciay words that style bites
into and penetrates the reader. It is through them that great thougbu circulate
and accepted as genuine. like gold or silve:.r imprinted with a recognized seal.
1lle), inspire confidence in the person who uses them to make:. his thoughu more
understandable: for one:. recognizes by such wage of common language a man
who knows life:. and the world, and who stays in touch with things. Morcovtr,
these. words make for a frank style:.. They show that the:. author has long I"UIIli-
nated the thought or the:. feeling expressed, that he has made them so Dluch his
own, so much a matter of habit, that for him the most common expressio
lll
suffice to c:.xpras ideas that bc:.come natural to him after long dc::libc:.r.ltion.
In the. end, what one says in this way will appear more truthful, for nothing is so
clear, when it comes to words. than those:. we call familiar; and clarity is some-
thing so characte:.ristic of Ihe:. truth that it is often confused with it" Nothing more
subtle than the suggestion: be: dc:ar so as to have at least the appearance of truth.
Offered in this way, the:. advice to write:. simply-which wually harbors resent-
me:.lll-has the highest authority.j.Joubert, OeulJrtS (Paris. 1883). vol. 2, p. 293
(-Du Style," no. 99). [N15.,,)
'11e persOIl who cOll1d develop the Joubc:rrian dialectic of prece:.ptS would pro--
duce a stylistic!! worth mentioning, For example.Jouben recommends the use:. of
"CVt'ryday .....,ords" but wanlS agaUlSt "colloquial language; which
thing! relevant 10 our present custOnlS only" ("00 Style," no. 67 ( OeullrtS, vol. 2,
p. 286. (NIO,!)
"All beaulUul expreuiulIl' ar ,. u,e:t'l' tible or mol'!' diaD on .. nlt!aniug. a
In.auliful e.liCIJr .... ioD prl:M:.llti a mt'anintt nlUre kautifullhan Ih", a uthor', own. it
should be J. J Oubert. Oeuvre, (PM'; . 1883). vul. 2. p. 276 ("Ou St yle,"
no. 17). [N16.2]
With to . Marx charncterizes as "its vulgar elc:.ment"
above all tllat de:.ment U1 It wluch IS mere reprodUCtion-that is n>nresc:nta .
r
"C" d __ L ' '-r oon
o appearance.. Ile 10 J?u/ Man: <manwcript), vol. 2, p. 22.JI This
vulgar element IS to be denounced III other sciences as "'ClI, (N16.3]
Concept nalur; in Ma.l"X: " If in lI e!!: .. 1 ... 'physicaJ na lure likewise
",' urld Marx cOll eciv" naillre rrom the heginninrl in lIOCial
n e.;. PhY8lflll nature doel not ent er directJ , inlO ""ur lll hi story; rather. il enters
indirectl y, UII II. I'nlCeB, lOr mulen al Ilroductiou thai on, frlOm lhe earli est
moment. n OI 6nly he l .. milo and nulun:: bUI als6 bel"" t!en man and 0
.' man. r, lo
Jan&"age Ihat WIll be dear t o philoilollhen al well: in Marx', n gorousl y.ucial
IClence, that pure natitre by all human activil , (theec6nomie nau
)
. I ".
nt,tllrflfl$ II rep aced eyerywher .. hy nal,lI.re: "' rrruteri l ll,lrfnlll Cfi6n (the tlCouomic
naturo ill. hy 1/1 social ' mllll er ' nlt!tlialOO and Iran rUmled
thNlugh human ISOcilll lIuivit y, a nd thu. a t the "amt timl' ca pable ofrurther chaose
and mOllifi cation inlhe presenl 3ntl the rlliure, '. Korllt: h, Karl Murx. VIII . 3, p. 3.:':
(NIO,' ]
KOrlich provide8 the roll uwing reformulation (lr the fl cgt"li an triad in Marxian
lerms: "The Hegelian ' contradi ctioll ' was rcplaced hy Ihe 81ruggle or the social
the dialeclical ' negation,' by the "roIClariat ; and tlul dialectical ' ,ynthe-
118, b), the proletarian revolutiun." Korsch, Kflrl Mflrx. vol. 3, p. {N16.5}
Restricti on lOr the mal crialist concepti on of hi 8l0r y in KortlCh: . the materi al
mode production chaul!!elI. 0110t! tile Ayli lem of mediation existinl!! between the
bue. and il political ant.ljondical f UIk" trucluu, wi lh ita COrrHpoDrung
8O(;1a.J fonns or ' "' h
conwou nell. , elite, I C rleDer-al propositionA of malenawlsoci.1
concerning the reia liolili helwecn ecanomy a nd politic. nr economy
ideo!"'",y . h
a diU"">:I 8Ur. r;enerul concepti If eLau and duu , rr-U8&le . have.
Mi erenl nu:all1lll!! rur ("aeh 8pecifi c t'poch a nd. 5Incd y ar e valid, in the
pa . t ul ar rorm Marx gave ""itIILn Ihe prl'scnl hourgeoill80dety, IlIlly ror lhis
sOIlel y .... Only for eOllt.mpurur y hourgeoijJ 8111jd)" where the 81theres lOr ecOrl -
omya d,. , r
II I JO Hie, are ormaUy alul l' ot irely St' llarated from each (l iher and where
worker$a ", r h
.. . II r ltu.ens u I I' "ta te art a lit! uf t!Cluai ri glll!!. dtH:! Ihl'
" "'"11fil' demu I t" r I . I ns ra .IUII I) t ICl r aetuu IIllgning lack or rn'Cllum UI Ihe cI'nn"nli c
dIe chorncler uf u theurI' li,' ul cl i'Il'II VCIY." Kurilrh. \u1. 3. JlI' , 2 1-22.
(N16a, J)
Kursch ma ke!> " the ' , . I ' I I . IIXlca II IIlI'rVuliol1 (wh.ilh is lI(tlwllwl",.
8U t I I fi ... .. ,
I,l'.l 10 I Ie llIal IUIII mature forlll of /'II.urxiu n 5Cience) Iilal ill mat e:riaJilil
' tH lal tllt.flry of Marx Ill e of rl'illiionil . ... hil'll hourgeoi.!l
all an independenl domain . already ill inve tigated to illl ohj: .
li ve, , ,content by the hi.ll t orica l and locial science of eCIlIImnic', .. ' , III thu 'eme,
ml.tpri(.Ii.:It $ocilJ ,riem;e u Ilot 3ociolog), but economiC$.' Kor ch, Karl
.llurx. \' ui. 3. ". 103.;'1 [N16a,2]
A I' itali"n from l\1urx t ill dl!" mut ahilit y of nalur{' (i n Kor8dl , K(.r/ Mll rx. vol. 3,
p. 9): " En' n Ihe naturall y grown val'iatiolls of the human spccie;;; , lI u(' 1I us differ _
ences of race, ... rlill and bc abol ished in the Ilistori cal process ...
(N16a,3]
Doctrine of the supersl r udur ... according to Korsell : "'Nei ther ' di alecti cal caul!al_
ity' in illl philosophi c deli llilion. nor dcienti1ic ' l;JI. usalit y' supplemented by ' inter--
lU'tinlll;.' is l ufi cienl 10 dch:rmine the particular kiml s of connection8 and
.elations exi 5t ing hctwt't: 1l thc c(:oll omi c ' Lase' and UIt: juridical and politi cal '8U-
per structure ... " together with the ' I:o"rel pondillg' forms of cOll sciou8ncu ....
TYo'enti elh-cclltur)' natural llcience has learned thai the 'cau8al' n:la tioOi whi ch
thc resea rcher in a gi" cn fi eld hal t o establish for l hat field cannot be defined in
tcrml! of a genen .. 1 cO'lI:4: lll or law of cauliality, but mUl t be determined I pecifically
for each separa te field , [See Philil'P Frank, D,u KOII.m1seletz und leiM Gren-
ze'l <The Law of CUlIso..lity and It 6 Limit s> (Vi enna , 1932) .] .. . The greater part of
the resnlts , , . ohtuined by Ma rx " lui Engcl8 not ill theoretica l
Lions of the Il CW prindple hut ill its specific application t o II series of , , . questioDs,
which are dtht'r of fund amental practical importa nce or of all extremely l ubtle
nature theoretitall y, ... [ Here, for example, belong the questi ons raised by
Marx at the cnd of Ult! 1857 ' Introducti on' <to the Gnmdriue> (pp . 179ff. ), and
which conc(' rn the ' unequal devdopmcnl ' of different spheres of un-
!)(fual devcio}Jlllent of mahll'ial production visa-vis arli8ti c producti on (and of the
various arts among themselves), the level of education il. the United StateB al
compared t t) that nf Europe, une<lual de\'d opmellt of the relationl of production
as legal rel ati on!, and 50 forth .] The more precise scientific determination of the
present cOlltexts is l till a ta8k (or the future ... , a tal k whose center will lie, once
agai n. lIot in theoreti cal formulati on bllt in the further applicatioo and tel ting of
p"incil'l e8 implicit in Marx's work. Nor sll ould we adhere tOO stri ctl y to the
words of Marx , who orten used his terms onl y fi gur lltive!y-as, for iostance, in
describing the cOllncclj ous uncler consideration here as a rela tion hctl'o' t:e:n ' ba8C"
and stl)Jt'.Mitructure. as a 'cvr N!l polidencc,' and 1 0 Oil , , In all calle5. the
Marnan COII(:I:p18 (al Sorel Il nd Lenin, among til e later Marxist!!, underltood best )
art' lI ot int t'mlcll as new dogTnatic fl'lI l'r!, a!! cOllilition8 Yo'll irh nillst
ht" mel ill some pa rti cular 1l ,',ll'r Ic y any ' mat erialisl ' i,u"CSligation. They a re,
Ialhcr. u wholl y umlobrrlml.ic brui(l c 10 reticarch and actiou." Kortich, KI/r/ Mar)!:
(mllllllse"ipt), vol. 3. PI" 93-96, "'" (NIl]
\faleri al ist I'(i nception of hislor y 8 1.111 mat crialist phiJusuphy: "Thc formul as of
matcriali3t hititury Urat were 1( 1)1)lh:t1 by Marx and Engel ... solely 10 the . ' ,
i' U'Cdigll ti lJ lI 'If huurgeoi.;; snri cl y, nnd transferred 10 other histol'i cal (teri ods only
wilh suit<lhlc d ul'O,utiulI . IUl vt' h l' l ' lI detucilcd by MarxiSI epigollcs from this
ti (l ccili c Il )lplic!ltioll . a ll\l in gt" lf'ral from ever)' historicnl cOllnection, lind out of
5O-CaUcll hi storic:al materialism IIICY have made a UniVCrilal .. , lociologicaJ tll e-
ory, From lhis ... leveling ... of ma teria li st theory of societ y. it was olll y II step to
the idea thll l once again loday--or tIMlay- it nece6sar y 10 shore up
the hi.;; loriclil allil economic sciellce of Marx. not onl y with a general sociall'hilosQ-
phy hut with a ... uni versal mat erialist world view embracing the totality of
uatun: unll @orict y. Thus, the .. , scicntifi c (orms into whi ch the r eal kernel of
. iglIICillith-century philoliophi cal materiamm hatl evolved , , . were ultimat ely
ja rri ed back to wll at Ma rx himself hall once ulllllill taka.bly r epudiated as ' Ihe
philosophi cal phraJ>e8 of the I\lalerililli8ts about matt er,' Materialist social lcience
.. ' dlle$ I1l1t need ... any such philosophic I UPIJOrt . This most import ant advalll:e
. .. carrietl 0 111 by Marx was la ter overlooked even by . . . ' orthodox' int e'l)retenr
,)f Marx . . They have thus reintroduced their own backward attitude!! into a
theory whi ch l\brx had consciously transformed from a philosophy int o a science.
It is the almost grotesque histori cal fate of the Marx-orthodoxy that, in repulsing
lhe attackl of re\'isionists, it ultimately arrives, on aU imlwrtant issues. at the veery
same st andpoint al that taken by iu adversaries, rill' example, the leacLing r epre-
8t' otaLive of this school , ... Plekhanov, in his eager pUr8uit of that ' philosophy'
whi ch might be the t.rue foundati on of Marxism. finally hit upon the idea of pre-
senti ng Marxism as ' a fonn of Spinoza 's philosophy (reed by Feuerbach of iu
theological atldentlum. " Korsch. Karlltfarx (mallu8I:: ript ). vol. 3, pp.
[NllaJ
KOflch ci tes Bacon, from the Novum Organum: ''' Recte crum verila@ tempo"s
lilia dicitur nOli a uctoritas.' On that authority of all a uthoriti es, time, be had
based the superiority of the new bourgeois empirical science over the dogmatic
science of the Middle AgeB." KOnlf: h. Korl Marx (malluscript), vol. 1. p. 72. '"
[N18. l]
I "' For the positi ve use, Marx replaceil the overweening postul ate of Besel tllat the
truth must be COllcrete wi th the ratiorutl princi pl e of 1/}eci[lCation, , , . The real
int ercij t li('ij . ill the specific t.ra its through which each porticIlh, r hi storical
sociely di5tinSlluhed from the common features of l ociety in general Ilnd in
which. therefore, its development is cOlllprised .. , , In the same manner, au exact
SOcial science rallllOI form its gener al concepu by ainlpl)' abstracting from some
and r.et aining other more or less arbitrarily chosen t' haracteristi cs of the gi ven
form of bourgeois society. It can secure the knowlc<lgt' of t he general
I'hntainccl ill Ilult particular fm'm uf oill y ll y t.lll' minute irn'{' sti gation "f aU
l he .. r ij al "ullllitinIlS tlllIl.!r1yi ll g itll cmer gence (r .. m !llIutll e.r ... Wl e .. f sudcty
:111\1 f.'om Ihe a,t lllli modifi cation of it s present fornl ul1Ilt:r exactl y d tablished
f un,liti uns, .. , TilliS, the onl y gcnui ne lawl! in sodal 81'icllce are lawl of ,Ievciop-
IJh'III . " Kor8d l. K(lri Marx (manuscript ). yol. I , I'p. 49-52." [N18.2J
authentic concept of universal history il a messianic concept.
history, as it is understood today, is an alTair of obscurantists.
Universal
INJ8.3]
-[be now of recognizability is the moment of awakening. (Jung would like to
distance awakening from the dream.) [N18,4]
In his characteruacion of Leopardi, Sainte-Beuve declares himsdf ""persuadl ...
that the fuU value and originality of literary criticism depends on its applying
itself to subjects for which we have long possessed the background and all the
immediate and more distant contats." C.-A. Sainte-lkuve, PorlTai/,J contmljHr
raim, vol. 4 (Paris, 1882), p. 365. On the other hand, it must be admitted that the
absence of certain of the condi tions demanded here by Sainte-Sc.uve can have its
val ue. A lack of feeling for the most delicate nuances of the text can itself cause.
the reader to inquire more attentivcly into the least of facts within the social
relations underlying the work of art. Moreover, the insensitivity to fine shades of
meaning can more readily for one (thanks to clearer apprehension of the
contours of the ""'Ork) a certain superi ority to other aitics, insofar as the feeling
for nuances does not always go together with the gift for ana1ysis. [N18a,1]
Critical remarks on technical progress show up quite early. The author of the
treatise On Art (Hippocrates?): "I believe that the inclination . _ . of intc.lligence ls
to discover anyone of those things that are still unknown, if indud it is btt/(T to
haut discolMrtd them /lran not to halJt: ,Ulnt! so at all." Leonardo da Vooci: "How and
why I do not write of my method of going undern'ater for as long as I can remain
there without eating: if I neither publish nor divulge tlus information, it is be
cause of the wickedness of Olen who would avail themsc:lvtS of it to commit
murder at the bottom of the sea-by staving in ships and sinking them with their
crews." Bacon: "In , .. 1llt: Nw Atlantis, . . . he entrusts to a specially chosen
commission the responsibility for deciding which new inventions will be brought
before the public and which kept secret.r' Pierre-Maxime Schuhl, MaclJini.sme d
fthi/osofthie (Paris, 1938), pp. 7, 35.-"TIte bombers remind us of what Leonardo
da Vinci expected of man in Bight: that he was to ascend to the skies 'in order to
seek snow on the mountaintops and bring it back to the city to spread on the:
sweltering stTeets in summer" (Schuhl, Mach.inismt! t t phJ1ruophie, p. 95).
[N18a,2)
It may be:: that the continuity of tradition is mere semblance. But then precise1y
the persistence of this semblance of persistence provides it with continui ty.
[Nl9,I]
l:)rOll ilt , of a dlati nn (from a lell l!r by <GIl t'Z dll) Bab:IIC 10 M. de Forgueao)
whi ch he evidentl y lmrrow{'d fn)lll J\.Ionl l!Slluiou., to whom his commenl8 are ad-
drt:'ued. (The pail"alW ('omai n a nonst'.ll sical slip of Ihe pcn o r a printer "
jrror.) " It was fifteen ,lays ago tli al I removed it [ thai is, tI, e citation) from my
f1,(wf lj lWi!l 8 .. . _ My hook ... i!l1l 0 ,Iaubl he 100 littl e rell d for there 10 have bt!en
uny ri sk. of t urnishilll; your dlation. Furthermort:. I witlulrf'w it less for your sake
tl,un for the sake of tht: lie.ntcner itst- II. In raCI , I Io-clievc II1I' rc exists rtl r every
ben uliflll 8f: IlIt'IlI'fl un iml lrc"criplihlc rigl.t which rend,," it illuLienaLl e 10 alilak-
e:r;.tepl Ihe one for whom it waits, according In a df!li Ullativn wl, ich is ill de
liIlY:- Corrcsponrlllflc{' generfl tc rlc Man:el I'rO/U f . \luI. I . /.;I' ltre3 U H.ofler! de
M"nl es'll/ifJrI (pari! _ 19311), PI' . 73-74.'.... [NI9,2]
l11c pathological clement in the notion of "culmre" comcs vividly to light in the
effect produced on Raphac=.l, the hero of 'flit Wild Sk.in, by the enonnous
stock of merchandise in the four-story ancique shop into which he \'t:ntures. "To
begin with, the stranger comp.1..I'Cd . .. three showrooms-crammed with the
reli cs of civilizations and religions, deiti es, royalties, masterpieces of art. the prod-
u ctS of debauchery, reason and unreason-to a nurror of many faer.ts, each one
representing a whole ....,orld .. .. The young man' s senses ended by bei ng
numbed at the sight of so many national and individual existences, their authen-
ticity guaranteed by the hurnan pledges which had survived them .... For him
this ocean of furnishings, inventions, fashions, works of an, and made up
all endless poem .. .. He clutched at every joy, grasped at every grief. made all
the fonnulas of existener. his own, and ... generously dispersed his life and
fcclinS! over the images of that empty, plastic nature . . .. He fd t smothered
under the debris of fifty vanished centuries. nauseated with this surfeit of human
thought, oushed under the weight of luxury and an . . . Alike in its caprices to
our modem chemistry, which would reduce CKation to one single gas, does not
tile soul distill femuJ poisOIlS in the rapid concentration of its pleasures .. . or its
ideas? Do not many men perish through the lightning action of some moral acid
or other, suddenly injected intO their innermost being?" Balzac. fA /tau lk cJw.-
grin, I. Flammarioll (Paris), pp. 19, 21- 22, [N19,3]
Some theses by Focillon which have appearances on their side. Of course, the
materialist theory of art is interested in dispelling such appearance. have no
rig4t to confuse the state of the life of fomlS with the state of social life. The time
g1vtS suppon to a work of art does not give definition either to iu principle
or to its specific foml " (p. 93). "The combined activity of the Capetian
cllY, the episcopacy, and the townspeople in the development of Gothic cathe
drals shows what a decisive influence may be exereised by the alliance of social
forces. Yet no matter how powerful this activity may be, it is still by no means
qualified to solve problems in pure statics, to combine relationships of values.
The various masons who bonded two ribs of stone crossing at right angles
beneath the north tower of Bayeux .. . I the creator of the choir at Saint-Denis.
were geometers working on solids, and not historians interpreting timc. [I!} TIle
ancntive study of the most homogeneous mil ieu, of the mosl closely woven
concatenati on of circumstances, will not serve to give liS the design of the towers
of (p. 89). It would be necessary 10 follow up on these reflections in order
to show, firSt, the difference between the theory of milieu and the UlCOry of the
forces of production, and, second, the difference between a and
a historical interpretation of works. Henri Focillon, Vie deJ fl nnes (Paris, 1934),61
[N19a, I)
Focillon on technique: "It has been like some observatory whence both sight and
study might embrace within one and the same perspective the brreatest possible
number of objectS and their greatest possible diversity. For technique may be
in many various ways: as a vital force. as a theory of or as
a mere convenience. In my own case as a historian, I never regarded technique aa
the automatism of a laaft,' nor as .. , the recipes of a 'cuisine'; instead I saw it aa
a whole poetry of action and ... as the means for attaining metamorphoses. It
has aJways scented to me that ... the observation of technical phenomena not
only guarantees a certain conuoUable objeCtivity, but affords entrance into the
very heart of the problem, by pmenting il 10 UJ in the same. andfrvm the same
jXJillt f!f umu aJ il iJ presented to 1M artUl. " The phrase ItaliCIZed by the author
marks the: basic error. Henri Focillon, Vie desformu (Paris, 1934). pp. 53-54.'"
[N19a,2]
The " activi ty on the )lltrt of a style in the process of selI-definition .. , is generally
kllllWII IlS uu 'evolution,' this term being here understood in its broadest and most
general scnle, Uiologicai llcience checked and modul ated the concept of evolution
wit h painstaking cure; arehat.'Oiogy, 0 11 the other hand , took it limply all . , .
metho.1 of c1alllliliea tion. I bave elsewhere pointed out the dangers of 'tl vo)ution':
ill! deceptive ortll:rlillc8I. ita sing.le- mindfti diref: tness, its use, inlhose problematic
cases ... , of the eXI)etlil!llt of ' trallil itions,' its inabilit y to make room ror the
rl!volutjonary enl! rgy of inventors." n ellri Focillon, Vie de! forme! (Paris, 1934),
"p. 11- 12.""' [N20]
o
[prostitution, Gambling]
Love: is a bird of ptwngr,
- NI1IIINII. U% liJhk",u: (/t I'tuu, /II/ ObHnoa!K,m Ie.J IIIfm tt UJtIgtJ tkJ
RuiJinlJ lUI rot/ItflnlCnmtt dll XJ), JiHk 11;128), \"01. 1, p. 37
... in an aKade,
\"\bmcll as in thcir boudoir.
- Brazier. Gabriel a.nd DuITler$ilIl, u s din nt(.J, flU u. Gllm't
didarit (Paris, 1827), p. 30
Hasn't his eternal vagabondage everywhere accustomed him to reinterpreting
the image of the city? And doesn', he t:ransform the arcade into a casino, into a
gambling den, where now and again he :stakes the red, blue. ydlow plOTU of
feeling on women, on a face that suddenly surfaces (will it rrtum his look?), on a
mute mouth (will it speak?)? What, on the baize cloth, looks out at the gambler
from every number-luck, that is-here, from the bodies of all the wm:nm,
winks at him as the chimera of sexuality: as his type. nus is nothing other than
the number, the cipber, in which just at that moment luck will be called by name,
in order to jump immediately to anomer number. His type-that's the number
that pays off thirty-sixfold, the one on which, \vithout even trying, the eye of the
voluptuary falls, as the ivory ball falls into the red or black compartment. He
leaves the Palais-RoyaJ with bulging pockets, calls to a whoR:, and once more
celebrates in her arms the communion with number, in which money and riches,
absolved from every earthen 'weight. have come to him from the fates like a
joyous embrace returned to the full . For in gambling haJl and bordello, it is the
saDle supremely sinful delight: to challenge fate in pleasure. Let unsuspecting
idealists imaginc that sensuaJ pleasurt:, of whatever stripe, could evcr dClemllne
Ul(' theological concept of sin. l11e oribrin of U"ue lechery is nothing else but this
stealing of pleasure from OUi of the COuI'Se of life with God, whose covenant with
-such life resides in the name. 11le name itself is the cry of naked lust. TIils sober
thing, fateless in itself-the name- knows 110 orner adversary than the fate that
takes its 'place in whoring and tha[ forges its arsenal in superstition. 11ll1s in
gambler and prostitute that sUpt"rsti tiOIt which arranges the 6gmcs of fate and