FIRE ALARM Reading Walter Benjamin's On the Concept of History' • MICHAEL LÖWY TRANSLATED BY CHRIS TURNER V VERSO London · New York First published by Verso 2005 © Verso 2005 Translation © Chris Turner 2005 First published as Walter Benjamin. Avertissement d'incendie © Presses Universitaires de France, Paris 2001 AU rights reserved The moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted 13579 10 8642 Verso UK: 6 Meard Street, London WiF oEG USA: 180 Varick Street, New York, NY 10014-4606 www.versobooks.com Verso is the imprint of New Left Books ISBN 1-84467-040-6 British library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress Typeset in Bembo by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh Printed by Québécor World Fairfield CONTENTS Introduction: Romanticism, Messianism and Marxism in Walter Benjamin's Philosophy of History ι ι A Reading of Walter Benjamin's Theses "On the Concept of History" ' 17 2 The Opening-up of History 107 Notes 117 Index 139 Walter Benjamin, c. 1930. Photograph: Charlotte Joel. Theodor W. Adorno Archiv, Frankfurt am Main. Introduction Romanticism, Messianism and Marxism in Walter Benjamin's Philosophy of History Walter Benjamin is an author unlike any other. His fragmentary, unfinished, at times hermetic, often anachronistic and yet, nonetheless, always contem- porary work, occupies a singular, even unique, place in the intellectual and political panorama of the twentieth century. Was he primarily, as Hannah Arendt claimed, a literary critic, an 'homme de lettres\ not a philosopher?1 I am more inclined to agree with Gershem Scholem that, even when writing about art or literature, he was a philoso- pher.2 Adorno's point of view is close to Scholem's, as he explains in an unpublished letter to Hannah Arendt: 'For me what defines Benjamin's significance for my own intellectual existence is axiomatic: the essence of his thought as philosophical thought. I have never been able to see his stuff* from another perspective . . . Just how far it distances itself from every traditional conception of philosophy is something I am aware of, of course . . .' 3 Benjamin's readers, particularly in France, have been concerned mainly with the aesthetic side of his work, and have inclined towards regarding him, first and foremost, as a historian of culture.4 Now, without neglecting that aspect of his work, we must acknowledge the far wider scope of his thought, which aims to achieve no less than a new understanding of human history. His writings on art and literature can be understood only in relation to this overall vision that illuminates them from within. His thinking forms a whole, in which art, history, culture, politics, literature and theology are inseparable. IO INTRODUCTION We usually classify the various philosophies of history by their progressive or conservative, revolutionary or nostalgic character. Walter Benjamin does not fit into these classifications. He is a revolutionary critic of the philosophy of progress, a Marxist opponent of 'progressivism', a nostalgic who dreams of the future, a Romantic advocate of materialism. He is, in every sense of the word, 'unclassifiable'. Adomo righdy defined him as a thinker 'standing apart from all tendencies'.5 And his work presents itself, in fact, as a kind of erratic block in the margins of the main schools of contemporary philosophy. It is futile, then, to attempt to recruit him into one or other of the two main camps contending for hegemony on the stage (or should we say the market?) of ideas: modernism and postmodernism. Jürgen Habermas seems to hesitate: after condemning Benjamin's anti- evolutionism in his article of 1966 as contrary to historical materialism, he asserts in his The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity that Benjamin's polemic against 'the socio-evoludonary levelling off of historical materialism is directed against the 'degeneration of modernity's consciousness of time' and aims, therefore, at 'renewing]' that consciousness. But he does not succeed in integrating into his 'philosophical discourse of modernity' the central Benjaminian concepts, such as the 'now-time' - that authentic instant that interrupts the continuum of history - which seems to him to be manifestly inspired by a 'mixture' of Surrealist experiences and motifs from Jewish mysticism.6 It would be an equally impossible task to transform Benjamin into a postmodernist avant la lettre. His de-legitimation of the grand narrative of Western modernity, his deconstruction of the discourse of progress and his plea for historical discontinuity are immeasurably far removed from the postmodernists' detached gaze on current society, which is presented as a world where grand narratives have finally been consigned to the past and replaced by 'flexible, agonistic language games'.7 Benjamin's conception of history is not postmodem, firsdy because, far from being 'beyond all narratives' - supposing that such a thing were possible - it constitutes a heterodox form of the narrative of emancipation: taking its inspiration from Marxist and messianic sources, it uses nostalgia for the past as a revolutionary method for the critique of the present.8 His thought is, IO INTRODUCTION therefore, neither modem (in Habermas's sense) nor 'postmodern* (as Lyotard understands the term), but consists rather in a modem critique of (capitalist/ industrial) modernity, inspired by pre-capitalist cultural and historical refer- ences. Among the attempts at interpreting his work, there is one that seems to me particularly questionable: the approach that believes he can be placed in the same philosophical camp as Martin Heidegger. In her touching essay of the 1960s, Hannah Arendt unfortunately contributed to this confusion, asserting, against all the evidence, that 'Without realizing it, Benjamin actually had more in common with [Heidegger] . . . than he did with the dialectical subtleties of his Marxist friends.'9 However, Benjamin made crystal clear his feelings of hostility towards the author of Sein und Zeit long before Heidegger revealed his allegiance to the Third Reich. In a letter to Scholem dated 20 January 1930, he speaks of 'the shock of the confrontation between our two very different ways of looking at history1 and shortly afterwards, on 25 April, he writes to his friend about a project for a critical reading, with Brecht, in which they 'were planning to annihilate Heidegger'.10 In The Arcades Project he mentions one of the main points of his critique: 'Heidegger seeks in vain to rescue history for phenomenology abstracdy through "historicity" (GeschichtlichkeitY.l 1 When, in 1938, Internationale Literatur, a Moscow-based Stalinist publication, pre- sented him, on the strength of a passage from his article on Goethe's Wahlverwandschaften (1922), as a 'follower of Heidegger', he could not help but comment, in a letter to Gretel Adorno (20 July 1938), that 'this publication is quite wretched'.12 One may, admittedly, compare the two authors' conceptions of historical time to identify points of affinity: the theme of eschatology, the Heideggerian conception of 'authentic temporality', and the openness of the past. If one takes the view, as Lucien Goldmann does, that Lukacs's History and Class Consdousness was one of the hidden sources of Being and Time,13 one might suppose that Benjamin and Heidegger both drew inspiration from the same work. However, starting out from a set of common questions, the two thinkers diverge radically. It seems clear to me that Benjamin was not a 'follower' of Heidegger, not simply because he denies it categorically, but for the good reason that his critical conception of temporality was already IO INTRODUCTION defined, to all intents and purposes, during the years 1915-25, long before the publication of Sein und Zeit in 1927. Walter Benjamin's Theses "On the Concept of History" ' (1940) constitutes one of the most important philosophical and political texts of the twentieth century. In revolutionary thought, it is perhaps the most significant document since Marx's Theses on Feuerbach'. It is an enigmatic, allusive, even sybilline text, its hermeticism studded with images, allegories and illuminations, strewn with strange paradoxes and shot through with dazzling insights. If we are to be able to interpret this document, it is, I believe, indispensable to situate it within the development of Benjamin's work. Let us attempt to identify, in the movement of his thought, the moments that prepare or prefigure the text of 1940. Benjamin's philosophy of history draws on three very different sources: German Romanticism, Jewish messianism and Marxism. And we are not looking at a combinatorial or an eclectic 'synthesis' of these three (apparendy) incompatible perspectives, but at the invention of a new and profoundly original conception on the basis of all of them. His approach cannot be explained by some particular 'influence': the different schools of thought, the various authors he cites and his friends' writings are so many materials from which he builds a construction of his own, elements with which he effects an alchemical fusion to produce philosophers' gold. The expression 'philosophy of history' may be misleading here. There is no philosophical system in Benjamin's writings: all his thinking takes the form of essays or fragments, if not indeed of quotation pure and simple - the passages wrenched from their context being made to serve his own approach. Any attempt at systematizing this mode of 'thinking poetically' (Hannah Arendt) is, then, problematical and uncertain. The brief remarks that follow merely offer a number of avenues for research. In the literature on Benjamin one often finds two symmetrical errors that should, I think, be avoided at all costs. The first consists in splitting off the 'idealist', 'theological' work of his youth from the 'materialist' revolutionary work of his maturity by effecting a (quasi-surgical) 'epistemological break' between the two. The second, by contrast, sees his work as a homogeneous IO INTRODUCTION whole and takes no account whatever of the profound upheaval occasioned in the mid-1920s by his discovery of Marxism. In order to understand the movement of his thought, we have, then, to take account simultaneously of the continuity of certain essential themes and the various breaks and turning points that mark his intellectual and political trajectory.14 Let us take as our starting point the Romantic moment, which is at the centre of the preoccupations of the young Benjamin. To grasp the filli scope of this, we have perhaps to remember that Romanticism is not just a literary and artistic school of the early nineteenth century: it is a true vision of the world, a style of thinking, a structure of sensibility that manifests itself in all spheres of cultural life, from Rousseau and Novalis to the Surrealists (and beyond). One might define the Romantic Weltanschauung as a cultural critique of modern (capitalist) civilization in the name of pre-modern (pre-capitalist) values - a critique or protest that bears upon aspects which are felt to be unbearable and degrading: the quantification and mechanization of life, the reification of social relations, the dissolution of the community and the disenchantment of the world. Its nostalgia for the past does not mean it is necessarily retrograde: the Romantic view of the world may assume both reactionary and revolutionary forms. For revolutionary Romanticism the aim is not a return to the past, but a detour through the past on the way to a Utopian future.15 In late nineteenth-century Germany, Romanticism (sometimes referred to as 'neo-Romanticism') was one of the dominant cultural forms in both literature and the human sciences; it expresses itself through multiple attempts at re-enchanting the world, in which the 'return of the religious element' plays a pre-eminent role. Benjamin's relation to Romanticism is not, then, expressed solely either through his interest in the Frühromantik (in particular Schlegel and Novalis) or in such late Romantic figures as Ε. T. A. Hoffmann, Franz von Baader, Franz-Joseph Molitor and Johann Jakob Bachofen - or, alter- natively, in Baudelaire and the Surrealists - but through the whole range of his aesthetic, theological and historiosophical ideas. Moreover, these three spheres are so closely connected in Benjamin that it is difficult to dissociate them without destroying what constitutes the singularity of his thinking. And, indeed, one of Benjamin's first articles (published in 1913) was entided Romantik: it calls for the birth of a new Romanticism, proclaiming