Tradition and the Modern Age (TS)	Tradition and the Modern Age (Partisan Review 21, 1954)
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[keine Entsprechung vorhanden]	Tradition and the Modern Age
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Our tradition of political thought has a1 definite beginning in the teachings of Plato and Aristotle. I believe,2 it came to a no less definite end in the theories of Marx. The beginning was made when Plato,4 in the5 Republic through6 the allegory of the cave, described the realm8 of human affairs, i.e.9 all things which belong10 to the living together of men in a common world,11 in terms of darkness, confusion and deception from13 which those, who aspire14 to true being,15 must turn away, which they must leave16 if ever17 they want to discover the clear sky of eternal ideas. The end came when Marx declared18 philosophy and its truth does19 not reside20 outside the affairs of man21 and the22 common world which is constituted by23 them, but, on the contrary,24 can be “realized” in the realm26 of man’s living together27 which he called Society through the emergence of a new kind of man whom he called Cap29. III, 48“socialized man” (vergesellschaftete Mensch). The beginning of political philosophy was made when the philosophers tried to rid themselves of and rule over the world of common30 human affairs; its31 end came when a philosopher attempted32 to rid himself of and rule over philosophy, an33 attempt which34 expressed itself35 first in Marx’s37 (in itself philosophical) decision38 to leave39 philosophy and second41 in his proposition42 to “change the world” and thereby the philosophizing minds, the “consciousness” of men.	Our tradition of political thought has its1 definite beginning in the teachings of Plato and Aristotle. I believe it came to a no less definite end in the theories of Karl3 Marx. The beginning was made when in The5 Republic, in6 the allegory of the cave, Plato7 described the sphere8 of human affairs--9all that belongs10 to the living together of men in a common world--11in terms of darkness, confusion,12 and deception which those aspiring14 to true being must turn away from and abandon16 if they want to discover the clear sky of eternal ideas. The end came with Marx’s declaration that18 philosophy and its truth are19 not located20 outside the affairs of men21 and their22 common world but precisely in23 them, and24 can be “realized” only25 in the sphere26 of living-together,27 which he called Society,28 through the emergence of “socialized men” (vergesellschaftete Menschen)29. Political philosophy necessarily implies the attitude of the philosopher toward politics; its tradition began with the philosopher turning away from politics and then returning in order to impose his standards on30 human affairs. The31 end came when a philosopher turned away from philosophy so as32 to “realize” it in politics. This was Marx’s33 attempt,34 expressed,35 first,36 in his decision37 (in itself philosophical) to abjure39 philosophy,40 and, secondly,41 in his intention42 to “change the world” and thereby the philosophizing minds, the “consciousness” of men.
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Beginning1 and end of the tradition have in common that the elementary problems of politics come nowhere clearer6 to light in their immediate and simple urgency than7 when they are first formulated and when this formulation finally is challenged8. The beginning is9, in Jacob Burckhardt’s words, like a “fundamental chord” (Grundakkord) which11 in endless variations sounds12 through the whole history of Western thought. Only beginning and end are, so to speak , without variations13 and the fundamental chord therefore strikes its listeneres nowhere15 more forcefully and more beautifully than when it first sent16 its harmonizing sound into the world and nowhere17 more irritantly18 and discordantly19 than when it finally continued20 to prevail21 in a world whose thoughts22 and sounds23 it could24 no longer bring into harmony. What Plato once said in a random remark of25 his latest26 work: “the27 beginning is like a god which as long as it dwells among men saves all things” (arché gar kai theos en anthrôpois hidrymené sôdzei panta , Laws,28 VI, 775) is true for the30 tradition; as long as its beginning was alive, the tradition31 could save and bring into harmony all things32. By the same token, it began to destroy when33 it came to its end--not to speak34 of the aftermath of confusion and helplessness which comes35 after a36 tradition has37 ended and in which we live today.	The beginning1 and the2 end of the tradition have this3 in common:4 that the elementary problems of politics never5 come as clearly6 to light in their immediate and simple urgency as7 when they are first formulated and when they receive their final challenge8. The beginning, in Jacob Burckhardt’s words, is10 like a “fundamental chord” which sounds11 in its endless modulations12 through the whole history of Western thought. Only beginning and end are, so to speak, pure or unmodulated;13 and the fundamental chord therefore never14 strikes its listeners15 more forcefully and more beautifully than when it first sends16 its harmonizing sound into the world and never17 more irritatingly18 and jarringly19 than when it still continues20 to be heard21 in a world whose sounds--22 and thought--23it can24 no longer bring into harmony. A random remark which Plato made in25 his last26 work: “The27 beginning is like a god which as long as it dwells among men saves all things” (arché gar kai theos en anthrôpois hidrymené sôdzei panta, Laws VI, 775),29 is true of our30 tradition; as long as its beginning was alive, it31 could save and bring all things into harmony32. By the same token, it became destructive as33 it came to its end--to say nothing34 of the aftermath of confusion and helplessness which came35 after the36 tradition ended and in which we live today.
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In Marx’s philosophy, which did not so much turn Hegel upside down as it inverted1 the traditional hierarchy of thought and action, of contemplation and labor, and of philosophy and politics, the beginning made by Plato and Aristotle proves its vitality by leading Marx into flagrantly contradictory statements and has its place2 in that part of his teachings which are3 usually called utopian. The most important of these4 are his prediction that,5 under conditions of a “socialized humanity” the “state will wither away” and the productivity of labor will become so great that labor somehow will abolish itself, an almost unlimited amount of leisure time will be guaranteed9 to each member of the society. These statements, in addition to being predictions, contain of course Marx’s ideal of the best form of society and as10 such they are not utopian, without place in time or space, but11 reproduce the political and social conditions of the same Athenian city-state which was the model of experience for Plato and Aristotle and therefore the fundament of political experience13 on which our tradition rests. The Athenian polis functioned without a division between rulers and ruled and therefore15 was no16 state if we use this term, as Marx did, in accordance with the traditional definitions of forms of government, which are distinguished from each other as one-man-rule17 or monarchy, rule by the few or oligarchy and rule by the majority or democracy. Athenian citizens, moreover, were citizens only insofar as they disposed about that19 leisure time, that freedom from labor,21 which Marx predicts for the future; not22 only in Athens, but throughout antiquity and up to the modern age, those who labored were no23 citizens and those who were citizens were first of all those who did not labor or who possessed more than their labor force24. This similarity becomes more striking even26 when we look into the actual content of Marx’s ideal society. Leisure time is seen under conditions28 of state-lessness29 or, to use a famous phrase of Lenin30 which renders Marx’s thought very precisely, under conditions where31 the administration of society would have32 become so simplified that every cook can33 take over its machinery. This, to be sure, is very different from the35 actual conditions in antiquity where, on the contrary, the37 political duties were considered so difficult to accomplish38 and so39 time-consuming that those who were40 engaged in them could not be permitted |3 to engage in41 any activity which would be tiresome42. (Thus, for instance, the shepherd could still43 qualify for citizenship but not44 the peasant, or the painter was still recognized as something more than a banausos but not the sculptor47, the distinctive line48 being drawn in either case simply by applying the criterion of effort and fatigue.) Burckhardt, II, 118 & 188 resp.49 It is against the time-consuming political life of an average full-fledged citizen of the Greek polis that the philosophers, especially Aristotle, established their ideal of scholé, of leisure time, which never meant50 in antiquity free time from laboring activity which was anyhow51 a matter of course, but free time53 from political activity and the business of the state.	In Marx’s philosophy, which did not so much turn Hegel upside down as invert1 the traditional hierarchy of thought and action, of contemplation and labor, and of philosophy and politics, the beginning made by Plato and Aristotle proves its vitality by leading Marx into flagrantly contradictory statements, mostly2 in that part of his teachings usually called utopian. The most important are his prediction that under conditions of a “socialized humanity” the “state will wither away,6” and that7 the productivity of labor will become so great that labor somehow will abolish itself, thus guaranteeing8 an almost unlimited amount of leisure time to each member of the society. These statements, in addition to being predictions, contain of course Marx’s ideal of the best form of society. As10 such they are not utopian, but rather11 reproduce the political and social conditions of the same Athenian city-state which was the model of experience for Plato and Aristotle,12 and therefore the foundation13 on which our tradition rests. The Athenian polis functioned without a division between rulers and ruled,14 and thus15 was not a16 state if we use this term, as Marx did, in accordance with the traditional definitions of forms of government, that is, one-man rule17 or monarchy, rule by the few or oligarchy,18 and rule by the majority or democracy. Athenian citizens, moreover, were citizens only insofar as they possessed19 leisure time, had20 that freedom from labor which Marx predicts for the future. Not22 only in Athens, but throughout antiquity and up to the modern age, those who labored were not23 citizens and those who were citizens were first of all those who did not labor or who possessed more than their labor power24. This similarity becomes even25 more striking when we look into the actual content of Marx’s ideal society. Leisure time is seen to exist27 under the condition28 of statelessness,29 or under conditions where, in Lenin’s famous phrase30 which renders Marx’s thought very precisely, the administration of society has32 become so simplified that every cook is qualified to33 take over its machinery. Obviously, under such circumstances the whole business of politics, which is now the simplified “administration of things” (Engels), could be of interest only to a cook.34 This, to be sure, is very different from actual conditions in antiquity,36 where, on the contrary, political duties were considered so difficult and time-consuming that those engaged in them could not be permitted to undertake41 any tiring activity42. (Thus, for instance, the shepherd could qualify for citizenship but the peasant could not45, or the painter, but not the sculptor,46 was still recognized as something more than a banausos, the distinction48 being drawn in either case simply by applying the criterion of effort and fatigue.) It is against the time-consuming political life of an average full-fledged citizen of the Greek polis that the philosophers, especially Aristotle, established their ideal of scholé, of leisure time, which in antiquity never meant freedom from ordinary labor,51 a matter of course anyhow52, but time free53 from political activity and the business of the state.
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In Marx’s ideal society these two different concepts are inextracably fused together1: the classless and stateless2 society somehow realizes the general ancient conditions of leisure from labor and, at the same time, a3 leisure from politics, which4 is supposed to come about when the “administration of things” (Engels)5 has taken the place of government and political action. This twofold leisure from labor as well as politics had been for the philosophers the condition of a bios theôrétikos, a life devoted to philosophy and knowledge in the widest sense of the word. Lenin’s cook, in other words, lives in a society which provides6 her with as much leisure from labor as the free ancient citizens enjoyed in order to devote their times7 to politeuesthai, and, at the same time, with8 as much leisure from politics as the Greek philosophers had demanded for the few who wanted to devote all their time to philosophein. The combination of a stateless9 (a-political10) and almost labor-less society loomed so large in Marx’s imagination as the very expression of an ideal humanity because of the traditional connotation of leisure as scholé and otium, that is of11 a life devoted to aims higher than labor or12 work or politics.	In Marx’s ideal society these two different concepts are inextricably combined1: the classless and state-less2 society somehow realizes the general ancient conditions of leisure from labor and, at the same time, leisure from politics. This4 is supposed to come about when the “administration of things” has taken the place of government and political action. This twofold leisure from labor as well as politics had been for the philosophers the condition of a bios theôrétikos, a life devoted to philosophy and knowledge in the widest sense of the word. Lenin’s cook, in other words, lives in a society providing6 her with as much leisure from labor as the free ancient citizens enjoyed in order to devote their time7 to politeuesthai, as well as8 as much leisure from politics as the Greek philosophers had demanded for the few who wanted to devote all their time to philosophein. The combination of a state-less9 (apolitical10) and almost labor-less society loomed so large in Marx’s imagination as the very expression of an ideal humanity because of the traditional connotation of leisure as scholé and otium, that is,11 a life devoted to aims higher than work or politics.
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Marx himself regarded his so-called utopy1 as simply2 prediction, and it is true that this part of his theories contains a great many developments which only in our time3 have come fully to light. Government in the old sense has given way,5 in many respects,6 to administration and the constant growth of7 leisure for the masses is a fact in all industrialized countries. Marx clearly perceived certain trends inherent in the era ushered in by the industrial revolution8, although he was wrong when he assumed9 that these trends would assert themselves only under conditions of a10 socialization of the means of production. The hold which the traditi-11[gap] had over him lies in that he saw12 this development in an idealized light and understood14 it in terms and concepts which had15 their origin in an altogether different historical period. This blinded him to the authentic and very perplexing problems inherent in the modern world and gives his accurate predictions their utopian quality. But he16 utopian ideal of a classless, stateless17 and laborless18 society is born from19 the marriage of two altogether non-utopian elements: the perception of certain present trends20 which can no longer be understood in the framework of the tradition, and th21[gap] |4 traditional concepts and ideals by which Marx himself understood and integrated them.	Marx himself regarded his so-called utopia1 as simple2 prediction, and it is true that this part of his theories contains a great many developments which have come fully to light only in our time4. Government in the old sense has given way in many respects to administration and the constant increase in7 leisure for the masses is a fact in all industrialized countries. Marx clearly perceived certain trends inherent in the era ushered in by the Industrial Revolution8, although he was wrong in assuming9 that these trends would assert themselves only under conditions of socialization of the means of production. The hold which the tradition11 had over him lies in his viewing12 this development in an idealized light,13 and in understanding14 it in terms and concepts having15 their origin in an altogether different historical period. This blinded him to the authentic and very perplexing problems inherent in the modern world and gives his accurate predictions their utopian quality. But the16 utopian ideal of a classless, state-less17 and labor-less18 society is born out of19 the marriage of two altogether non-utopian elements: the perception of certain trends in the present20 which can no longer be understood in the framework of the tradition, and the21 traditional concepts and ideals by which Marx himself understood and integrated them.
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Marx’s own attitude to the tradition of political thought was one of conscious rebellion. He1 therefore framed certain key statements,2 which, containing his political philosophy, underlie and transcend the strictly scientific part of his work (and as such curiously remain the same throughout his life, from the early writings to the last volume of Das Kapital) in a challenging and paradoxical mood3. Central4 among them are the following: “Labor is the Creator5 of Man6” (in a formulation by Engels who, contrary to an opinion among some Marx scholars usually renders Marx’s thought adequately and succinctly). “Violence is the midwife of history” which occurs in both Marx’s11 and Engels’ writings12 in many variations. And14, finally,15 the famous last thesis on Feuerbach: “The philosophers have long enough16 interpreted the world; the time has come to change it.” This18 last statement must be understood as19 a variation of another, also occurring in an early manuscript and reading as follows20: “You cannot aufheben (i.e. elevate, conserve and abolish in the Hegelian sense) philosophy without realizing it”.23 In the later work the same attitude to philosophy appears in the many predictions that the working class will become24 the heir of classical philosophy.	Marx’s own attitude to the tradition of political thought was one of conscious rebellion. In a challenging and paradoxical mood he1 therefore framed certain key statements which, containing his political philosophy, underlie and transcend the strictly scientific part of his work (and as such curiously remain the same throughout his life, from the early writings to the last volume of Das Kapital). Crucial4 among them are the following: “Labor is the creator5 of man6” (in a formulation by Engels,7 who, contrary to an opinion current8 among some Marx scholars,9 usually renders Marx’s thought adequately and succinctly). “Violence is the midwife of history” (10which occurs in both the writings of Marx11 and of Engels12 in many variations)13. Finally14, there is15 the famous last thesis on Feuerbach: “The philosophers have only interpreted the world differently; the point is, however, to change it,” which, in the light of Marx’s thought, one could render more adequately as: The philosophers have16 interpreted the world long enough17; the time has come to change it. For this18 last statement is in fact only19 a variation of another, also occurring in an early manuscript: “You cannot aufheben (i.e.,21 elevate, conserve,22 and abolish in the Hegelian sense) philosophy without realizing it.”23 In the later work the same attitude to philosophy appears in the many predictions that the working class will be24 the heir of classical philosophy.
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None of these statements can be understood in and by itself, each receives1 its meaning from2 contradicting some traditionally accepted truth whose plausibility up to the beginning of the modern age had been beyond doubt. Labor created man means first,5 labor not God,7 created man; it means second, man9 insofar as he is human creates himself, his humanity is the result of his own activity; it means third12, what distinguishes man from animal, his differentia specifica, is not reason, but labor, he is not an animal rationale, he is15 an animal laborans; it means fourth16, not reason, the up to then18 highest attribute of man, but labor, the traditionally most despised of all human activities19 contains the humanity of man. The challenge is against20 the traditional God, against21 the traditional estimate of labor, against22 the traditional glorification of reason.	None of these statements can be understood in and by itself. Each acquires1 its meaning by2 contradicting some traditionally accepted truth whose plausibility up to the beginning of the modern age had been beyond doubt. “3Labor created man”4 means first that5 labor and6 not God created man; secondly,8 it means that man,9 insofar as he is human,10 creates himself, that11 his humanity is the result of his own activity; it means, thirdly12, that13 what distinguishes man from animal, his differentia specifica, is not reason, but labor, that14 he is not an animal rationale, but15 an animal laborans; it means, fourthly16, that it is17 not reason, until then the18 highest attribute of man, but labor, the traditionally most despised human activity, which19 contains the humanity of man. Thus Marx challenges20 the traditional God, the traditional estimate of labor, and22 the traditional glorification of reason.
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“Violence is the midwife of history” means that the hidden forces of the1 development of human productivity, insofar as they depend upon free and conscious human action, come to light only through the violence of wars and revolutions. Only in these2 violent periods does history show its true face and dispel the fog of mere ideological, hypocritical talk. |5 Again,3 the challenge to tradition is clear. Violence,4 traditionally is5 the ultima ratio in the6 relationships between nations and the most despicable7 of domestic actions where it8 always has been understood as9 the outstanding characteristic of tyranny. (The few attempts at saving10 violence from its11 disgrace, chiefly by Machiavelli and Hobbes, are of great relevance for the problem of power and quite illuminating for12 the early confusion of power with violence, but they exerted remarkably little influence on the tradition of political thought prior to our own time.) To Marx, on the contrary, violence or rather the possession of the means of violence is the constituent element of all forms of government; the state is the instrument of the ruling class to oppress13 and exploit14 and the whole sphere of political action is characterized by the use of violence.	“Violence is the midwife of history” means that the hidden forces of development of human productivity, insofar as they depend upon free and conscious human action, come to light only through the violence of wars and revolutions. Only in those2 violent periods does history show its true face and dispel the fog of mere ideological, hypocritical talk. Again the challenge to tradition is clear. Violence is4 traditionally the ultima ratio in relationships between nations and the most disgraceful7 of domestic actions, being8 always considered9 the outstanding characteristic of tyranny. (The few attempts to save10 violence from disgrace, chiefly by Machiavelli and Hobbes, are of great relevance for the problem of power and quite illuminative of12 the early confusion of power with violence, but they exerted remarkably little influence on the tradition of political thought prior to our own time.) To Marx, on the contrary, violence or rather the possession of the means of violence is the constituent element of all forms of government; the state is the instrument of the ruling class by means of which it oppresses13 and exploits,14 and the whole sphere of political action is characterized by the use of violence.
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[keine Entsprechung vorhanden]	The Marxian identification of action with violence implies another fundamental challenge to tradition which may be more difficult to perceive, but of which Marx, who knew Aristotle very well, must have been aware. The twofold Aristotelian definition of man as a dzôon politikon and a dzôon logon echon, a being attaining his highest possibility in the faculty of speech and the life in a polis, was designed to distinguish the Greek from the barbarian and the free man from the slave. The distinction was that Greeks living together in a polis conducted their affairs by means of speech, through persuasion, and not by means of violence through mute coercion. Barbarians were ruled by violence and slaves by labor, and since violent action and toil are alike in that they do not need speech to be effective, barbarians and slaves are aneu logou, that is, they do not live with each other primarily by means of speech. Labor was to the Greeks essentially a non-political, private affair, but violence is related to and establishes a contact, albeit negative, with other men. Marx’s glorification of violence therefore contains the more specific denial of logos, of speech, the diametrically opposite and traditionally most human form of intercourse. Marx’s theory of ideological superstructures ultimately rests on this anti-traditional hostility to speech and the concomitant glorification of violence.
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To1 traditional philosophy,2 it would have been a contradiction in terms to “realize philosophy” or to change the world in accordance with philosophy--for Marx’s remark about interpreting and changing the world implies that one can change the world only now, after and because the philosophers had interpreted it3. Philosophy may prescribe certain rules of acting4, though no great philosopher ever thought5 this to be his most important business6. Essentially, philosophy from Plato to Hegel was “not of this world”, be7 it that8 Plato describes9 the philosopher as the man whose body only inhabits the city of his fellow-men10, or that11 Hegel admits12 that from the point of view of common sense, philosophy is a world stood on its head, a “verkehrte Welt”.13 The challenge to tradition, this time not only14 implied but directly expressed in Marx’s statement, lies in that the world of common human affairs, where we orient ourselves and think in terms of common sense16, is supposed17 one day to18 become identical with the realm of ideas in which19 the philosopher moves, or that philosophy which always has21 been only “for the few” will one day be the common sense23 reality of24 everybody.	For1 traditional philosophy it would have been a contradiction in terms to “realize philosophy” or to change the world in accordance with philosophy--for Marx’s remark about interpreting and changing the world implies that one can change the world only now, after philosophers have interpreted it and because of that3. Philosophy may prescribe certain rules of action4, though no great philosopher ever took5 this to be his most important concern6. Essentially, philosophy from Plato to Hegel was “not of this world,” whether7 it is8 Plato describing9 the philosopher as the man whose body only inhabits the city of his fellow men10, or Hegel admitting12 that from the point of view of common sense, philosophy is a world stood on its head, a “verkehrte Welt.”13 The challenge to tradition, this time not merely14 implied but directly expressed in Marx’s statement, lies in the prediction15 that the world of common human affairs, where we orient ourselves and think in common-sense terms16, will17 one day become identical with the realm of ideas where19 the philosopher moves, or that philosophy,20 which has always21 been only “for the few,22” will one day be the common-sense23 reality for24 everybody.
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These three statements are framed in traditional terms which they explode; they are formulated as paradoxes and meant to shock as paradoxical2. They are in fact even more paradoxical,3 and led Marx into greatter4 perplexities,5 than he himself anticipated when he stated them6. Each of them7 contains one fundamental contradiction which remained unsolvable8 in his own terms. If labor is the most human and the9 most productive of man’s activities, what is going to10 happen when in “11the realm of freedom” after the revolution12 “labor is being abolished13” and14 man has succeeded in emancipating himself from it? |6 What productive and what essentially human activity will be left?--15If violence is the midwife of history and violent action therefore the most dignified of all forms of human action, what is going to16 happen when, after the conclusion of class struggle, no violence will even be possible? How is18 man going to19 be able to act at all in a meaningful authentic way? Finally, when philosophy will be20 both realized and abolished in the society of the future21, what kind of thought will be left?	These three statements are framed in traditional terms which they, however,1 explode; they are formulated as paradoxes and meant to shock us2. They are in fact even more paradoxical and led Marx into greater4 perplexities than he himself had anticipated6. Each contains one fundamental contradiction which remained insoluble8 in his own terms. If labor is the most human and most productive of man’s activities, what will10 happen when after11 the revolution “labor is abolished” in12 “the realm of freedom,13” when14 man has succeeded in emancipating himself from it? What productive and what essentially human activity will be left? If violence is the midwife of history and violent action therefore the most dignified of all forms of human action, what will16 happen when, after the conclusion of class struggle and the disappearance of the state17, no violence will even be possible? How will18 man be able to act at all in a meaningful authentic way? Finally, when philosophy has been20 both realized and abolished in the future society21, what kind of thought will be left?
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Marx’s inconsistencies are well known and noticed1 by almost all Marx scholars. They usually are summarized as discrepancies “between the scientific point of view of the historian and the moral point of view of the prophet” (Edmund Wilson), between the historian seeing in the accumulation of capital “a material means for the increase of productive forces” (Marx) and the moralist who denounced those who performed “the historical task” (Marx) as exploiters and dehumanizers of man. This and similar inconsistencies are in fact2 minor if3 compared to4 the fundamental contradiction between the glorification of labor and action against contemplation and thought and a stateless7 and (almost) laborless8 society. For this can neither be blamed on the natural difference between a revolutionary young Marx and the more scientific insights of the older Marx who was a9 historian and an10 economist, nor be11 resolved through the assumption of a dialectical movement which needs the negative or the12 evil to produce the positive or the good.	Marx’s inconsistencies are well known and noted1 by almost all Marx scholars. They usually are summarized as discrepancies “between the scientific point of view of the historian and the moral point of view of the prophet” (Edmund Wilson), between the historian seeing in the accumulation of capital “a material means for the increase of productive forces” (Marx) and the moralist who denounced those who performed “the historical task” (Marx) as exploiters and dehumanizers of man. This and similar inconsistencies are minor when3 compared with4 the fundamental contradiction between the glorification of labor and action as5 against contemplation and thought and of6 a state-less, that is, action-less7 and (almost) labor-less8 society. For this can neither be blamed on the natural difference between a revolutionary young Marx and the more scientific insights of the older historian and economist, nor resolved through the assumption of a dialectical movement which needs the negative or evil to produce the positive or the good.
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Flagrant contradictions of so fundamental a character1 rarely occur in second rate writers where2 they can be discounted. In the work of great authors,3 they lead into the very center of their work and are the most important clue for4 a true understanding of their problems and new insights. In Marx’s5, as in the case of other great authors of the last century, a seemingly playful, challenging and paradoxical mood conceals the perplexity of having to deal with new phenomena in terms of an old tradition of thought outside of whose conceptual framework no thinking seemed possible at all. It is as though Marx, not unlike Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, tried desperately to write7 against the tradition with the8 conceptual tools of the tradition9. Our tradition of political thought began when Plato discovered that it is somehow inherent in the philosophical experience to turn away from the common world of human affairs; it ended when nothing was left of this experience but the in itself meaningless opposition10 of thinking11 and acting12.	Such fundamental and flagrant contradictions1 rarely occur in second-rate writers, in whom2 they can be discounted. In the work of great authors they lead into the very center of their work and are the most important clue to4 a true understanding of their problems and new insights. In Marx5, as in the case of other great authors of the last century, a seemingly playful, challenging,6 and paradoxical mood conceals the perplexity of having to deal with new phenomena in terms of an old tradition of thought outside of whose conceptual framework no thinking seemed possible at all. It is as though Marx, not unlike Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, tried desperately to think7 against the tradition using its own8 conceptual tools. Our tradition of political thought began when Plato discovered that it is somehow inherent in the philosophical experience to turn away from the common world of human affairs; it ended when nothing was left of this experience but the opposition of thinking and acting, which, depriving thought10 of reality11 and action of sense, makes both meaningless12.
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II1 The strength of this tradition, the2 hold which it had over3 Western man’s thought has never been a matter of being tradition conscious or not5 . Indeed, only twice in our history do we encounter periods in which men were6 conscious and over-conscious of the fact of tradition and identified7 age as such with authority. This happened first when the Romans adopted classical Greek thought and culture as their own spiritual tradition and thereby decided historically that tradition was to gain10 a permanent forming11 influence on European civilization. Before the Romans such a thing as tradition was unknown; with them it became and after them it remained the guiding thread through the past and the chain to which each new generation knowingly or unknowingly was bound in its understanding of the world and its own experiences12. Not before13 the end of its unquestioned solidity, when the great Roman legacy was already at its breaking point,14 do we again encounter in the Romantic period15 an exalted consciousness and glorification of tradition. (The discovery of antiquity in the Renaissance was a first attempt at breaking16 the fetters of tradition and by going to the sources themselves, tried18 to establish a past over which tradition would have no hold.) Today,19 tradition is sometimes considered to be20 an essentially romantic concept, but romanticism did not21 more than put22 the discussion of tradition on the agenda of the 19th23 century; its glorification of the past indicated only24 the moment when the modern age was about to change the25 world and the26 general circumstances under which men live27 to such an extent that a matter-of-course reliance on tradition was no longer possible at all28.	The strength of this tradition, its2 hold on3 Western man’s thought,4 has never depended on his consciousness of it5. Indeed, only twice in our history do we encounter periods in which men are6 conscious and over-conscious of the fact of tradition, identifying7 age as such with authority. This happened,8 first,9 when the Romans adopted classical Greek thought and culture as their own spiritual tradition and thereby decided historically that tradition was to have10 a permanent formative11 influence on European civilization. Before the Romans such a thing as tradition was unknown; with them it became and after them it remained the guiding thread through the past and the chain to which each new generation knowingly or unknowingly was bound in its understanding of the world and its own experience12. Not until13 the Romantic period14 do we again encounter an exalted consciousness and glorification of tradition. (The discovery of antiquity in the Renaissance was a first attempt to break16 the fetters of tradition,17 and by going to the sources themselves to establish a past over which tradition would have no hold.) Today tradition is sometimes considered an essentially romantic concept, but romanticism did no21 more than place22 the discussion of tradition on the agenda of the nineteenth23 century; its glorification of the past only served to mark24 the moment when the modern age was about to change our25 world and general circumstances to such an extent that a matter-of-course reliance on tradition was no longer possible.
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[keine Entsprechung vorhanden]	The end of a tradition does not necessarily mean that traditional concepts have lost their power over the minds of men. On the contrary, it sometimes seems that this power of well-worn notions and categories becomes more tyrannical as the tradition loses its living force and as the memory of its beginning recedes; it may even reveal its full coercive force only after its end has come and men no longer even rebel against it. This at least seems to be the lesson of the twentieth-century aftermath of formalistic and compulsory thinking, which came after Kierkegaard, Marx, and Nietzsche, by consciously inverting the traditional hierarchy of concepts, had challenged the basic assumptions of traditional religion, traditional political thought, and traditional metaphysics. However, neither the twentieth-century aftermath nor the nineteenth-century rebellion against tradition actually caused the break in our history. This sprang from a chaos of mass-perplexities on the political scene and of mass-opinions in the spiritual sphere which the totalitarian movements, through terror and ideology, crystallized into a new form of government and domination. Totalitarian domination as an established fact, which in its unprecedentedness cannot be comprehended through the usual categories of political thought, and whose “crimes” cannot be judged by traditional moral standards or punished within the legal framework of our civilization, has broken the continuity of occidental history. The break in our tradition is now an accomplished fact. It is neither the result of anyone’s deliberate choice nor subject to further decision.
23
The end of a tradition does not necessarily signify that traditio­nal concepts have lost their power over the minds of men. It sometimes seems as though this power, on the contrary, of well-worn notions and categories becomes more tyrannical the nearer the tradition as living force draws to its end and the more distant and forgotten the beginning has become; it may even reveal its full force of coercion only after the end has come to pass and men do no longer even rebel against it. This at least seems to be the lesson of the 20th century aftermath of formalistic and compulsory thinking which came after Kierkegaard, Marx and Nietzsche, consciously inverting the traditional hierarchy of concepts, had challenged the fundaments of traditional religion, traditional political thought and traditional metaphysics.[metamark →] |8 However, neither the 20th century aftermath nor the 19th century rebellion against tradition actually caused the break in our history. This sprang from a chaos of mass-perplexities on the political scene and of mass-opinions in the spiritual realm which the totalitarian movements, through terror and ideology, crystallized into a new form of government and domination. Totalitarian domination as an established fact which in its being unprecedented can not be comprehended through the categories of political thought and whose “crimes” cannot be judged by traditional moral standards or punished within the legal framework of our civilization has broken the continuity of occidental history. Since then, the break in our tradition has been an accomplished fact, that is neither the result of anybody’s deliberate choosing nor subject to further decision. The1 attempts of great thinkers after Hegel’s death2 to break away from patterns of thought which had ruled the West for more than two thousand years may have foreshadowed this event and certainly can help to illuminate it, but it3 did not cause it. The event itself makrs4 the division between the modern age--rising with the natural sciences in the 17th5, reaching its political climax in revolutions of the 18th7 and unfolding its general implications after the industrial revolution8 of the lth9 century9--and the modern10 world of the twentieth century which has come11 into existence only in12 the chain of catastrophes which was started13 off through14 the first WW15. To hold the thinkers of the modern age, especially the rebels against tradition in the 19th century17, responsible for the structure and the18 conditions of the modern world19 is even more dangerous than it is unjust. The implications apparent in the actual event of totalitarian domination go far beyond the most radical or most |9 adventurous ideas of either20 of them21. Their greatness resides22 in the fact that they perceived that23 their world was being24 invaded by new problems and perplexities which our tradition of thought was unable to handle25. In this sense,26 their own break with the27 tradition, no matter how emphatically they would proclaim28 it (like children whistling louder and louder because they are lost in the dark), was no deliberate act of their own choosing either. The dark which frightened them29 was the30 silence, not the break of the31 tradition. This break when it actually occurred has33 dispelled the darkness so that we hardly are able35 any longer to listen to36 the overloud, “pathetic” style in37 their writing. But the thunder of the eventual explosion has also drowned the preceding ominous silence with which we are received38 whenever we dare to ask--not:39 what are we fighting against?40 but--:41 what are we fighting for? Neither the silence of the tradition nor the thinking reaction against it in the nineteenth century can ever explain what actually happened.42	The attempts of great thinkers after Hegel2 to break away from patterns of thought which had ruled the West for more than two thousand years may have foreshadowed this event and certainly can help to illuminate it, but they3 did not cause it. The event itself marks4 the division between the modern age--rising with the natural sciences in the seventeenth century5, reaching its political climax in the6 revolutions of the eighteenth,7 and unfolding its general implications after the Industrial Revolution8 of the nineteenth9--and the world of the twentieth century, which came11 into existence through12 the chain of catastrophes touched13 off by14 the First World War15. To hold the thinkers of the modern age, especially the nineteenth-century16 rebels against tradition, responsible for the structure and conditions of the twentieth century19 is even more dangerous than it is unjust. The implications apparent in the actual event of totalitarian domination go far beyond the most radical or most adventurous ideas of any20 of these thinkers21. Their greatness lay22 in the fact that they perceived their world as one24 invaded by new problems and perplexities which our tradition of thought was unable to cope with25. In this sense their own departure from27 tradition, no matter how emphatically they proclaimed28 it (like children whistling louder and louder because they are lost in the dark), was no deliberate act of their own choosing either. What frightened them about the dark29 was its30 silence, not the break in31 tradition. This break,32 when it actually occurred,33 dispelled the darkness,34 so that we can hardly listen35 any longer to the overloud, “pathetic” style of37 their writing. But the thunder of the eventual explosion has also drowned the preceding ominous silence that still answers us38 whenever we dare to ask, not, “39what are we fighting against”40 but “41what are we fighting for?”42
24
The non-deliberate character of the break gives it an irrevocable finality2 which only events, but no3 thoughts can ever4 have. The thinking reaction and5 rebellion against the6 tradition of7 the 19th8 century remained strictly within a traditional framework; on the level of mere thought which could hardly be concerned then with more than the essentially negative experiences of foreboding, apprehension and ominous silence, only radicalization, not a new beginning and reconsideration	Neither the silence of the tradition nor the reaction of thinkers against it in the nineteenth century can ever explain what actually happened.1 The non-deliberate character of the break gives it an irrevocability2 which only events, never3 thoughts, can4 have. The rebellion against tradition in7 the nineteenth8 century remained strictly within a traditional framework; and9 on the level of mere thought,10 which could hardly be concerned then with more than the essentially negative experiences of foreboding, apprehension,11 and ominous silence, only radicalization, not a new beginning and reconsideration of the past, was possible.12
25
🞽 of the past was possible.	[keine Entsprechung vorhanden]
26
Kierkegaard, Marx and Nietzsche stand at the end of the tradition before its thread broke3. Their immediate predecessor was Hegel who,4 for the first time,5 saw the whole of world history as one continuous development, and this tremendous achievement already6 implied that he himself stood outside all authority-claiming systems and beliefs of the past, that he was held only by the thread of continuity in history itself. The thread of historical continuity was already a7 substitute for tradition; by reducing8 the awe-inspiring9 mass of the most divergent values, the most contradictory thoughts,10 conflicting authorities, all of which had somehow been able to function together, to a unilinear dialectically consistent development actually meant12 to repudiate --13not tradition as such, but--14the authority of all traditions. Kierkegaard, Marx and Nietzsche remained Hegelians insofar as they saw the tradition16 of past philosophy as one dialectically developed whole; their great merit was to radicalize17 this new essence in the only way it could still be further developed, namely in leaps and reversals. [metamark ¶]	Kierkegaard, Marx,1 and Nietzsche stand at the end of the tradition just2 before the break came3. Their immediate predecessor was Hegel. He it was who4 for the first time saw the whole of world history as one continuous development, and this tremendous achievement implied that he himself stood outside all authority-claiming systems and beliefs of the past, that he was held only by the thread of continuity in history itself. The thread of historical continuity was the first7 substitute for tradition; by means of it,8 the overwhelming9 mass of the most divergent values, the most contradictory thoughts and10 conflicting authorities, all of which had somehow been able to function together, were reduced11 to a unilinear dialectically consistent development actually designed12 to repudiate not tradition as such, but the authority of all traditions. Kierkegaard, Marx,15 and Nietzsche remained Hegelians insofar as they saw the history16 of past philosophy as one dialectically developed whole; their great merit was that they radicalized17 this new essence in the only way it could still be further developed, namely in leaps and reversals.
27
Kierkegaard, Marx and Nietzsche are for us like the guide posts2 to a past which has lost its authority. They were the first who dared to think without the guide3 of any authority whatsoever and4 yet were still kept5, for better and worse, by the categorical framework of the great tradition. In some respects,7 we are better off. We need no longer be concerned with their scorn against8 the “educated philistines” who,10 all through the nineteenth century,11 tried to replace12 the loss of authentic authority with a spurious glorification of culture. To most, this culture looks today14 like a field of ruins, which15 far from being able to claim any authority can hardly command interest. This may be deplorable, but it contains20 the great chance to look upon the past with eyes undisturbed21 by any tradition, with a directness which has disappeared from occidental reading and hearing ever since the Romans submitted to Greek civilization.	Kierkegaard, Marx,1 and Nietzsche are for us like guideposts2 to a past which has lost its authority. They were the first who dared to think without the guidance3 of any authority whatsoever;4 yet, for better and worse, they were still held6 by the categorical framework of the great tradition. In some respects we are better off. We need no longer be concerned with their scorn for8 the “educated philistines,9” who all through the nineteenth century tried to make up for12 the loss of authentic authority with a spurious glorification of culture. To most people today13, this culture looks like a field of ruins which,15 far from being able to claim any authority,16 can hardly command their17 interest. This fact18 may be deplorable, but implicit in19 it is20 the great chance to look upon the past with eyes undistracted21 by any tradition, with a directness which has disappeared from occidental reading and hearing ever since the Romans submitted to Greek civilization.
28
III	III
29
The leaps and inversions of the rebels against tradition are1 all caused by some new experience concerning the condition of man2 which they almost instantaneously tried4 to overcome and resolve into somethin5[gap] old.[metamark ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––>] Kierkegaard’s leap from doubt into belief was a reversal and a distortion of the traditional relationship between reason and faith,6 the answer to the modern loss of faith, not only in God but in reason as well, as it7 was inherent in Descartes’ De omnibus dubitan |11 dum est, |11 with its underlying suspicion that things may not be as they appear and that an evil spirit may hide8 willfully and forever truth from the minds of man. Marx’s leap from theory into action and from contemplation into labor came after Hegel had transformed metaphysics into a philosophy of history and changed the philosopher into the historian to whose backward glance eventually, at the end of time, the meaning of becoming and motion, not of being and truth, will12 reveal itself. Nietzsche’s leap from the non-sensual13 transcendent realm of ideas and measurements into the sensuality14 of life, his “inverted Platonism” or “re-evaluation15 of values”,16 as he himself would call it, was the last attempt at turning17 away from the tradition which succeeded only in turning it19 upside down.	The leaps and inversions of the rebels against tradition were1 all caused by some new experience which they tried3 almost instantaneously to overcome and resolve into something5 old. Kierkegaard’s leap from doubt into belief was a reversal and a distortion of the traditional relationship between reason and faith. It was6 the answer to the modern loss of faith, not only in God but in reason as well, which7 was inherent in Descartes’ De omnibus dubitandum est, with its underlying suspicion that things may not be as they appear and that an evil spirit may willfully and forever hide9 truth from the minds of man. Marx’s leap from theory into action,10 and from contemplation into labor,11 came after Hegel had transformed metaphysics into a philosophy of history and changed the philosopher into the historian to whose backward glance eventually, at the end of time, the meaning of becoming and motion, not of being and truth, would12 reveal itself. Nietzsche’s leap from the non-sensuous13 transcendent realm of ideas and measurements into the sensuousness14 of life, his “inverted Platonism” or “trans-valuation15 of values,”16 as he himself would call it, was the last attempt to turn17 away from the tradition, an attempt18 which succeeded only in turning tradition19 upside down.
30
Different as these rebellions against tradtion1 are in content and intention, their results have an ominous similarity: Kierkegaard, jumping from doubt into belief, carried doubt into religion, transformed modern science’s attack2 on religion into an inner-religious struggle, so that since then sincere religious experience has seemed possible only in the tension between doubt and belief, in torturing one’s beliefs with one’s doubts and relaxing from this torment in the violent affirmation of the absurdity of both the human condition and man’s belief. No clearer symptom of this modern religious situation can be found than the fact that Dostoevsky, perhaps the most experienced psychologist of modern religious beliefs, showed the character of3 pure faith in the figure4 of The Idiot.	Different as these rebellions against tradition1 are in content and intention, their results have an ominous similarity: Kierkegaard, jumping from doubt into belief, carried doubt into religion, transformed the attack of modern science2 on religion into an inner-religious struggle, so that since then sincere religious experience has seemed possible only in the tension between doubt and belief, in torturing one’s beliefs with one’s doubts and relaxing from this torment in the violent affirmation of the absurdity of both the human condition and man’s belief. No clearer symptom of this modern religious situation can be found than the fact that Dostoevsky, perhaps the most experienced psychologist of modern religious beliefs, portrayed3 pure faith in the character4 of Myshkin,5 The Idiot.
31
Marx, when he leaped from philosophy into politics, carried the theories of dialectics into action and made1 political action more theoretical, more dependent upon what we today would call an ideology, than it ever had been before. Since, moreover, his springboard was not philosophy in the old metaphysical sense but as specifically Hegel’s philosophy of history as Kierkegaard’s springboard had been Descartes’ philosophy of doubt, he superimposed the “law of History3” upon politics and ended by losing the significance of both, of action no less than thought, of politics no less than philosophy, when he insisted that both were mere functions of society and history.	Marx, when he leaped from philosophy into politics, carried the theories of dialectics into action, making1 political action more theoretical, more dependent upon what we today would call an ideology, than it ever had been before. Since, moreover, his springboard was not philosophy in the old metaphysical sense,2 but as specifically Hegel’s philosophy of history as Kierkegaard’s springboard had been Descartes’ philosophy of doubt, he superimposed the “law of history3” upon politics and ended by losing the significance of both, of action no less than of4 thought, of politics no less than of5 philosophy, when he insisted that both were mere functions of society and history.
32
Nietzsche’s inverted Platonism, his insistence on life and the sensually1 and materially given as against the supersensual2 and transcendent ideas which, since Plato, had been supposed to measure, judge and give meaning to it4, ended in what is commonly called nihilism. Yet Nietzsche was no nihilist but on the contrary the first to try to overcome the nihilism inherent,7 not in the notions of the thinkers but in the reality of modern life. What he discovered in his attempt at “re-evaluation8” was that within this categorical framework the sensual9 loses its very raison d’être when it is deprived of its background of suprasensuality10 and transcendence11. (12This insight in its elementary simplicity is relevant for all the turning-around13 operations in which the tradition found its end. “The deposition of the suprasensual14 removes also the mere sensual15 and their16 differentiation. .. The deposin tion17 ends in senselessness.18”)19 Martin Heidegger, “Nietzsches Wort ‘Gott is20 tot’” in Holzwege.	Nietzsche’s inverted Platonism, his insistence on life and the sensuously1 and materially given as against the suprasensuous2 and transcendent ideas which, since Plato, had been supposed to measure, judge,3 and give meaning to the given4, ended in what is commonly called nihilism. Yet Nietzsche was no nihilist,5 but on the contrary was6 the first to try to overcome the nihilism inherent not in the notions of the thinkers but in the reality of modern life. What he discovered in his attempt at “trans-valuation8” was that within this categorical framework the sensuous9 loses its very raison d’être when it is deprived of its background of the suprasensuous10 and transcendent11. This insight in its elementary simplicity is relevant for all the turning-about13 operations in which the tradition found its end. “The deposition of the suprasensuous14 removes also the mere sensuous15 and its16 differentiation. . . . The deposition17 ends in senselessness” (19Martin Heidegger, “Nietzsches Wort ‘Gott ist20 tot’” in Holzwege)21.
33
What Kierkegaard wanted was to assert the dignity of faith against modern reason and reasoning as Marx desired to assert again the dignity of human action against modern historical contemplation and relativization and as Nietzsche wanted to assert the dignity of human life against the impotence of modern man. The traditional oppositions of fides against3 intellectus and of theôria against4 praxis took their respective revenges upon Kierkegaard and Marx just as the opposition between the transcendent and the sensually6 given took its revenge upon Nietzsche, not because these oppositions had7 still their8 roots in valid human experience, but, on the contrary, because they had become mere concepts outside of which however, no comprehensive thought seemed possible at all.	What Kierkegaard wanted was to assert the dignity of faith against modern reason and reasoning,1 as Marx desired to assert again the dignity of human action against modern historical contemplation and relativization,2 and as Nietzsche wanted to assert the dignity of human life against the impotence of modern man. The traditional oppositions of fides and3 intellectus and of theôria and4 praxis took their respective revenges upon Kierkegaard and Marx,5 just as the opposition between the transcendent and the sensuously6 given took its revenge upon Nietzsche, not because these oppositions still had8 roots in valid human experience, but, on the contrary, because they had become mere concepts outside of which,9 however, no comprehensive thought seemed possible at all.
34
That these three outstanding and conscious rebellions against a tradition which had lost its arché, its beginning and principle, should end1 in self-defeat, is no reason to doubt2 the greatness of the enterprise3 nor the4 relevance they have for5 the understanding of the modern world. Each one of them6, in his7 particular way, perceived8 those traits of modernity which were incompatible with our tradition, and this even before this modernity had come into full light9. Kierkegaard knew that the incompatibility of modern science with traditional beliefs does not reside10 in any specific scientific results11, all of which can be integrated into religious systems and absorbed by religious beliefs since12 they will never be able to answer the questions which religion raises. He knew this incompatibility to reside much rather14 in the conflict between a spirit of doubt and distrust who15 ultimately can trust only what he himself16 has made and the traditional unquestioning confidence into18 what has been given and appears to man’s reason and senses in its true being20. Modern science, in Marx’s words, would “be superfluous if appearance and and22 essence of things coincided.”🞽 (Kapital, III, ch. 48.) Because our traditional religion is essentially |13 a revealed religion and holds, in harmony with ancient philosophy that true24 is what reveals itself, that truth is revelation,25 (even though the meanings of this revelation may be as different as as26 the philosophers’ alétheia and délôsis are from the early Christians27 eschatological expectations for an apokalypsé in the Second Coming) modern science has become so29 much more formidable an enemy of it30 than traditional philosophy, even in its most rationalistic versions, ever could be. Yet,31 Kierkegaard’s attempt to save faith from the onslaught of modernity made even religion modern--32subject to doubt and distrust. Traditional beliefs disintegrated into absurdity when Kierkegaard tried to re-assert33 them under34 the assumption that man cannot trust the truth-receiving capacity of his reason or his senses.	That these three outstanding and conscious rebellions against a tradition which had lost its arché, its beginning and principle, should have ended1 in self-defeat, is no reason to question2 the greatness of the enterprises3 nor their4 relevance to5 the understanding of the modern world. Each attempt6, in its7 particular way, took account of8 those traits of modernity which were incompatible with our tradition, and this even before modernity in all its aspects had fully revealed itself9. Kierkegaard knew that the incompatibility of modern science with traditional beliefs does not lie10 in any specific scientific findings11, all of which can be integrated into religious systems and absorbed by religious beliefs for the reason that12 they will never be able to answer the questions which religion raises. He knew that13 this incompatibility lay, rather,14 in the conflict between a spirit of doubt and distrust which15 ultimately can trust only what it16 has made itself17 and the traditional unquestioning confidence in18 what has been given and appears in its true being19 to man’s reason and senses. Modern science, in Marx’s words, would “be superfluous if the21 appearance and essence of things coincided.” Because our traditional religion is essentially a revealed religion and holds, in harmony with ancient philosophy,23 that truth24 is what reveals itself, that truth is revelation (even though the meanings of this revelation may be as different as the philosophers’ alétheia and délôsis are from the early Christians’27 eschatological expectations for an apokalypsé in the Second Coming),28 modern science has become much more formidable an enemy of religion30 than traditional philosophy, even in its most rationalistic versions, ever could be. Yet Kierkegaard’s attempt to save faith from the onslaught of modernity made even religion modern, that is,32 subject to doubt and distrust. Traditional beliefs disintegrated into absurdity when Kierkegaard tried to reassert33 them on34 the assumption that man cannot trust the truth-receiving capacity of his reason or his senses.
35
Marx knew the incompatibility between classical political thought and the2 modern political conditions to reside3 in the accomplished fact of the French and the industrial revolution4 which together had raised Labor5, the traditionally6 most despised of all human activities to the highest rank of productivity and pretended to be able to assert the time-honored ideal of freedom under unheard of8 conditions of universal equality. He knew that the question was only superficially posed in the idealistic assertions of the equality of man, the inborn dignity of every human being, and only superficially answered by giving laborers the right to vote. This was not a problem of justice that could be solved by giving the new class of workers its due after which the old order of suum cuique would be restored and function as before, because10 of the fundamental11 incompatibility between the traditional concepts which hold the very activity of laboring12 itself to be13 the very symbol of man’s subjection to necessity and the modern age where all of a sudden14 labor was supposed15 to express man’s highest16 positive freedom, the freedom of productivity. It is from the onrush17 of labor, that is traditionally18 of necessity, that Marx tried20 to save philosophical thought, which21 the tradition had deemed22 to be the freest of all human activities. Yet when he proclaimed “you cannot abolish philosophy without realizing it” he began to subject even thought25 to the inexorable tyranny of necessity, to the “iron law” of history or26 society.	Marx knew that1 the incompatibility between classical political thought and modern political conditions lay3 in the accomplished fact of the French and Industrial Revolutions,4 which together had raised labor5, traditionally the6 most despised of all human activities,7 to the highest rank of productivity and pretended to be able to assert the time-honored ideal of freedom under unheard-of8 conditions of universal equality. He knew that the question was only superficially posed in the idealistic assertions of the equality of man, the inborn dignity of every human being, and only superficially answered by giving laborers the right to vote. This was not a problem of justice that could be solved by giving the new class of workers its due,9 after which the old order of suum cuique would be restored and function as in the past. There is the fact10 of the basic11 incompatibility between the traditional concepts making labor12 itself the very symbol of man’s subjection to necessity and the modern age which saw14 labor elevated15 to express man’s positive freedom, the freedom of productivity. It is from the impact17 of labor, that is to say,18 of necessity in the traditional sense19, that Marx endeavored20 to save philosophical thought, deemed by21 the tradition to be the freest of all human activities. Yet when he proclaimed that23 “you cannot abolish philosophy without realizing it,24” he thus began subjecting thought also25 to the inexorable tyranny of necessity, to the “iron law” of productive forces in26 society.
36
Nietzsche’s devaluation of values, like Marx’s labor theory of values1, arises from the incompatibility between the traditional “ideas”, which3 as transcendent units had been used to recognize and measure human thoughts and actions, and the5 modern society which dissolved all such standards into relationships between its members and established8 them as functional “values”.9 Values are social commodities which like other commodities10 have no significance of their own but can11 exist only in the ever-changing relativity of relationships12 and commerce. Through this relativization,13 both the things which man produces and uses14 and the standards according to which he lives undergo a decisive change: they become entities of exchange,15 and the bearer of their “value” is society,16 and not man who produces and uses and judges. The “good” loses its character of being18 an “19idea”20 the standard by which the good and the bad can be measured and recognized; it has become a value which can be exchanged against21 other values, against the values22 of expediency or of power, for instance23. The owner24 of values can refuse this exchange and become an “idealist” who prices the value of “good” higher than the value of expediency; but this does not make the “value” of good any less relative.	Nietzsche’s devaluation of values, like Marx’s labor theory of value1, arises from the incompatibility between the traditional “ideas,2” which,3 as transcendent units,4 had been used to recognize and measure human thoughts and actions, and modern society,6 which had7 dissolved all such standards into relationships between its members, establishing8 them as functional “values.”9 Values are social commodities that10 have no significance of their own but, like other commodities,11 exist only in the ever-changing relativity of social linkages12 and commerce. Through this relativization both the things which man produces for his use14 and the standards according to which he lives undergo a decisive change: they become entities of exchange and the bearer of their “value” is society and not man,17 who produces and uses and judges. The “good” loses its character as18 an idea,20 the standard by which the good and the bad can be measured and recognized; it has become a value which can be exchanged with21 other values, such as those22 of expediency or of power. The holder24 of values can refuse this exchange and become an “idealist,25” who prices the value of “good” higher than the value of expediency; but this does not make the “value” of good any less relative.
37
The term “value” owes its origin to the sociological trend which even before Marx was quite manifest in the relatively new science of classical economy. Marx was still aware of the fact, which the social sciences since have1 forgotten, that nobody “seen in his isolation produces values”Capt. III2, 689 M-E-L Institue 19333 but that products “become values only in their social relationship.” His distinction between the4 “use value” and the5 “exchange value” reflects the distinction between things as men use and produce them and their value in society and his insistence on the greater authenticity of “7use values”8, his frequent description of the rise of exchange-value9 as a kind of original sin at the beginning of market production reflects10 his own helpless and, as it were, blind recognition of the inevitability of animpending “devaluation of all values”.11The birth of the social sciences can be dated12 at the moment when all things, “ideas” as well as material objects, were equated with values,13 so that everything derived its existence from and was related to society, the bonum and malum no less than tangible objects. In the conflict over the question14 whether capital or labor is the source of values, it is generally overlooked that no time prior to the incipient industrial revolution has ever thought16 that values, and not things, are the result of man’s productive capacity, or related17 everything that exists to society and not to man “seen in his isolation”.20 |15 “Socialized man21” whose emergence Marx put22 into the future of a23 classless society is in fact the underlying assumption of classical as well Marxian economy.	The term “value” owes its origin to the sociological trend which even before Marx was quite manifest in the relatively new science of classical economy. Marx was still aware of the fact, which the social sciences have since1 forgotten, that nobody “seen in his isolation produces values,”3 but that products “become values only in their social relationship.” His distinction between “use value” and “exchange value” reflects the distinction between things as men use and produce them and their value in society,6 and his insistence on the greater authenticity of use values, his frequent description of the rise of exchange value9 as a kind of original sin at the beginning of market production, reflect10 his own helpless and, as it were, blind recognition of the inevitability of an impending “devaluation of all values.”11 The birth of the social sciences can be located12 at the moment when all things, “ideas” as well as material objects, were equated with values so that everything derived its existence from and was related to society, the bonum and malum no less than tangible objects. In the dispute as to14 whether capital or labor is the source of values, it is generally overlooked that at15 no time prior to the incipient Industrial Revolution was it held16 that values, and not things, are the result of man’s productive capacity, or everything that exists related18 to society and not to man “seen in his isolation.19” The notion of20 “socialized men,21” whose emergence Marx projected22 into the future classless society,24 is in fact the underlying assumption of classical as well as25 Marxian economy.
38
It is therefore only natural that the perplexing question which has plagued all later “value-philosophies”,1 where to find the one supreme value by which to measure all others, should first Theories of Surplus Value, 116, Ldn. 19512appear in the economical3 sciences which, in Marx’s words, try to “square the circle--to find a commodity of unchanging value which would serve as a constant standard for others.” Marx believes to have4 found this standard in labor-time and insists6 that use-values7 “which can be acquired without labor have no exchange value”Cap. III 6978 (though they retain their “natural usefulness”), so that the earth itselfib. 6989 is of “no value”: she10 does not represent “objectified labor”.11 With this conclusion we come to the threshold of a radical nihilism, to the12 denial of everything given,13 which is absent from the 19th century rebellions against tradition and14 rises only in twentieth century15 society.	It is therefore only natural that the perplexing question which has plagued all later “value-philosophies,”1 where to find the one supreme value by which to measure all others, should first appear in the economic3 sciences which, in Marx’s words, try to “square the circle--to find a commodity of unchanging value which would serve as a constant standard for others.” Marx believed he had4 found this standard in labor-time,5 and insisted6 that use values7 “which can be acquired without labor have no exchange value” (though they retain their “natural usefulness”), so that the earth itself is of “no value”; it10 does not represent “objectified labor.”11 With this conclusion we come to the threshold of a radical nihilism, to that12 denial of everything given of13 which the nineteenth-century rebellions against tradition as yet knew little and which14 rises only in twentieth-century15 society.
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Nietzsche seems to have been unaware of the origin as well as of the modernity of the term value when he accepted it as a key notion in his assault on tradition. But when he began to devaluate the current values of society, the implications of the whole enterprise became quickly3 manifest. Ideas in the sense of absolute units had become identified with social values to such an extent that they simply ceased to exist once their value-character, their social status, was challenged. Nobody knew better than Nietzsche his way5 through the wandering,6 meandering paths of the modern spiritual labyrinth where the remembrances7 and ideas of the past are hoarded up as though they always had8 been values which society depreciated whenever it needed better and newer commodities. He also9 was already10 aware of the profound nonsense of the new “value-free” science which soon was11 to degenerate into scientificality12 and a13 general scientific superstition and which never, despite all protests to the contrary, had anything in common with the Roman historians’ attitude of sine ira et studio. For while the latter demanded judgment without scorn and truth-finding without zeal, the “wertfreie Wissenschaft”,14 which could no longer judge because it had lost its standards of judgment and could no longer find truth because it doubted the existence of truth, imagined that it could produce meaningful results if it only15 abandoned the last remnants of these16 absolute standards and kept outside of mutually relative and interchangeable value-judgements, which become arbitrary as soon as they are taken to be “absolute”, independent of society17. Yet,18 when Nietzsche proclaimed to have19 discovered “new and higher values”,20 he was the first to fall prey to the21 delusions which he himself had helped to destroy and accepted22 the old traditional notion of measuring with transcendent units in its newest and most hideous form, carrying23 thereby again the relativity and exchangeability of values into the very matters whose absolute dignity he had wanted to assert--power and life and man’s love for25 his existence on earth26.	Nietzsche seems to have been unaware of the origin as well as of the modernity of the term “1value”2 when he accepted it as a key notion in his assault on tradition. But when he began to devaluate the current values of society, the implications of the whole enterprise quickly became3 manifest. Ideas in the sense of absolute units had become identified with social values to such an extent that they simply ceased to exist once their value-character, their social status, was challenged. Nobody knew his way4 better than Nietzsche through the meandering paths of the modern spiritual labyrinth, where recollections7 and ideas of the past are hoarded up as though they had always8 been values which society depreciated whenever it needed better and newer commodities. Also, he9 was well10 aware of the profound nonsense of the new “value-free” science which was soon11 to degenerate into scientism12 and general scientific superstition and which never, despite all protests to the contrary, had anything in common with the Roman historians’ attitude of sine ira et studio. For while the latter demanded judgment without scorn and truth-finding without zeal, the “wertfreie Wissenschaft,”14 which could no longer judge because it had lost its standards of judgment and could no longer find truth because it doubted the existence of truth, imagined that it could produce meaningful results if only it15 abandoned the last remnants of those16 absolute standards. And18 when Nietzsche proclaimed that he had19 discovered “new and higher values,”20 he was the first to fall prey to delusions which he himself had helped to destroy, accepting22 the old traditional notion of measuring with transcendent units in its newest and most hideous form, thereby again carrying24 the relativity and exchangeability of values into the very matters whose absolute dignity he had wanted to assert--power and life and man’s love of25 his earthly existence26.
40
IV	IV
41
Self-defeat, the common1 result of the2 three challenges to tradition in the 19th3 century, is only one and perhaps the most superficial trait which4 Kierkegaard, Marx and Nietzsche share with each other6. Of greater importance is that the content7 of their rebellion8 seems to be concentrated on the same, ever-repeated topic9: against10 the alleged abstractions of philosophy and its concept of an animal rationale, Kierkegaard wants to assert concrete and suffering men,12 Marx confirms that man’s humanity consists of his productive and active force which in its most elementary aspect he calls labor-force,13 and Nietzsche insists on creation and power. In complete mutual indepence14--none of them ever knew of the others15--they come to16 the conclusion that this enterprise in terms of the tradition can be achieved only through a mental operation which is17 best described in the images and similes of leaps, inversions and turning concepts upside down. (Kierkegaard speaks of his leap from doubt into belief; Marx turns Hegel, or rather “Plato and the whole Platonic tradition”,Hook, From H. to M. 195018, 3519 “right side up again” and leaps20 “from the realm of necessity into the realm of freedom”,21 and Nietzsche (Anti-Dühring) Engels.22understands his philosophy as “inverted Platonism” and “transformation of all values”.23)	Self-defeat, the result of all2 three challenges to tradition in the nineteenth3 century, is only one and perhaps the most superficial thing4 Kierkegaard, Marx,5 and Nietzsche have in common6. More important is the fact that each7 of their rebellions8 seems to be concentrated on the same, ever-repeated subject9: Against10 the alleged abstractions of philosophy and its concept of man as11 an animal rationale, Kierkegaard wants to assert concrete and suffering men;12 Marx confirms that man’s humanity consists of his productive and active force which in its most elementary aspect he calls labor-power;13 and Nietzsche insists on creation and power. In complete independence of one another14--none of them ever knew of the others’ existence15--they arrive at16 the conclusion that this enterprise in terms of the tradition can be achieved only through a mental operation best described in the images and similes of leaps, inversions and turning concepts upside down. (Kierkegaard speaks of his leap from doubt into belief; Marx turns Hegel, or rather “Plato and the whole Platonic tradition” (Sidney Hook)18, “right side up again,” leaping20 “from the realm of necessity into the realm of freedom”;21 and Nietzsche understands his philosophy as “inverted Platonism” and “transformation of all values.”23)
42
The turning operations with which the tradition ends brings1 the beginning to light in a twofold sense: The2 very assertion of one side of the opposites--fides against intellectus, praxis against theôria, the sensual3 perishable life against the4 permanent unchanging super-sensual5 truth--necessarily brings to light the repudiated opposite and shows that both have meaning and significance only in this opposition. Furthermore, to think in such opposites is not a matter of course, but is grounded in a first great turning operation on which all others ultimately are based because it established the opposites in whose tension the tradition moves. This first turning-around7 is Plato’s periagôgé holés tés psychés, the turning-around8 of the whole human being, which he tells--as though it were a story with beginning and end and not merely a mental operation--in the parable of the cave. The story of the cave unfolds9 in three stages: The first turning around takes place in10 the cave itself when the cave-inhabitant frees himself from the chains which keep him and his outlook glued to the screen on which the [gap]adows and images of things appear and turns around to the rear of the cave where an artificial fire | illuminates the things in the cave as they really are11. There is second the turning from the cave to the clear sky where the ideas appear as the true and eternal essences of the things in the cave, because they are illuminated by the sun, the idea of ideas, which makes it possible for man to see and for the ideas to appear. There is third the necessity of returning to the cave, of leaving the realm of eternal essences and move again in the realm of perishable things and mortal men. Each of these turnings is accompanied by a loss of sense and orientation: the eyes used to the shadowy appearance on the screen are blinded by the fire in the cave; the eyes then adjusted to the dim light of the artificial fire are blinded by the light that illuminates the ideas; finally, the eyes adjusted to the light of the sun must re-adjust to the dimness of the cave.12	The turning operations with which the tradition ends bring1 the beginning to light in a twofold sense: the2 very assertion of one side of the opposites--fides against intellectus, praxis against theôria, sensuous3 perishable life against permanent unchanging suprasensuous5 truth--necessarily brings to light the repudiated opposite and shows that both have meaning and significance only in this opposition. Furthermore, to think in terms of6 such opposites is not a matter of course, but is grounded in a first great turning operation on which all others ultimately are based because it established the opposites in whose tension the tradition moves. This first turning-about7 is Plato’s periagôgé holés tés psychés, the turning-about8 of the whole human being, which he tells--as though it were a story with beginning and end and not merely a mental operation--in the parable of the cave in the Republic11.
43
[keine Entsprechung vorhanden]	The story of the cave unfolds in three stages: the first turning-about takes place in the cave itself when one of the inhabitants frees himself from the fetters which chain the cave dwellers’ “legs and necks” so that “they can only see before them,” their eyes glued to the screen on which shadows and images of things appear; he now turns around to the rear of the cave where an artificial fire illuminates the things in the cave as they really are. There is, second, the turning from the cave to the clear sky where the ideas appear as the true and eternal essences of the things in the cave, illuminated by the sun, the idea of ideas, enabling man to see and the ideas to shine forth. Finally there is the necessity of returning to the cave, of leaving the realm of eternal essences and moving again in the realm of perishable things and mortal men. Each of these turnings is accompanied by a loss of sense and orientation: the eyes accustomed to the shadowy appearances on the screen are blinded by the fire in the cave; the eyes then adjusted to the dim light of the artificial fire are blinded by the light that illuminates the ideas; finally, the eyes adjusted to the light of the sun must readjust to the dimness of the cave.
44
Behind these turning-arounds1 which Plato demands only of the philosopher, the lover of truth and light, lies another inversion which is2 indicated,3 in general, in Plato’4[gap] violent polemics against Homer and the Homeric religion, and in particular in the construction of this5 story as a kind of reply to and reversal of Homer’s description of Hades in the 11th6 book of the Odyssey. The parallel between the image7 of the cave and Hades,8 (the shadowy, unsubstantial senseless movements of the souls10 in Homer’s Hades corresponding11 to the ignorance and senselessness of the bodies in the cave,12) is unmistakable because it is stressed by Plato’s use of the words eidôlon, image, and skia, shadow, which are Homer’s own key words for the description of life after death in the underworld. The re- versal13 of the Homeric “position” is obvious: It14 is as though Plato told15 him: not the life of bodyless souls, the life of the bodies takes place in an underworld; compared to the sky and the sun, the earth is like Hades; images and shadows are the objects of bodily senses, not the surroundings of bodyless souls; not the world in which we move and live and have to part from in death is true and real19, but the ideas seen and grasped by the eyes of the mind. In a sense, Plato’s periagôgé was a turning-around20 by which everything that was commonly believed in Greece in accordance with the Homeric religion came to stand on its head. It is as though the underworld of Hades had risen to the surface of the earth. But this reversal of Homer did [gap]ot21 actually turn Homer upside down, or downside-up22, since the dichotomy within which such an operation alone can take place is of Platonic origin and quite alien |18 alien23 to the Homeric world No turning around25 of the tradition can therefore ever land in the original Homeric position. When28 Plato exposed29 his doctrine of ideas only in its30 political relevance31 in the form of a reversal of Homer, heestablished the groundwork and32 the framework where33 such turning operations are no34 far-fetched possibilities but predetermined by the conceptual structure itself. The development of philosophy in late antiquity in the various schools, which fought each other with a fanaticism unequalled35 in the pre-Cristian36 world, consists already37 of the turning around and insistence38 on one of two opposite terms which39 Plato’s separation of a world of mere shadowy appearance and the world of eternally true ideas had made possible and for which he40 himself had given the first example in the turning around of41 the periagôĝé42. When Hegel finally, in a last gigantic effort, had gathered the various strands of traditional philosophy as they had developed from Plato’s original concept into one consistent self-developing whole44, the same splitting up into two conflicting schools of thought, though on a much lower level, took place and right-wing and left-wing, idealistic and materialistic Hegelians could for a short while dominate philosophical thought.	Behind these turnings-about,1 which Plato demands only of the philosopher, the lover of truth and light, lies another inversion indicated generally3 in Plato’s4 violent polemics against Homer and the Homeric religion, and in particular in the construction of his5 story as a kind of reply to and reversal of Homer’s description of Hades in the eleventh6 book of the Odyssey. The parallel between the images7 of the cave and Hades (the shadowy, unsubstantial,9 senseless movements of the soul10 in Homer’s Hades correspond11 to the ignorance and senselessness of the bodies in the cave) is unmistakable because it is stressed by Plato’s use of the words eidôlon, image, and skia, shadow, which are Homer’s own key words for the description of life after death in the underworld. The reversal13 of the Homeric “position” is obvious; it14 is as though Plato were saying to15 him: not the life of bodyless souls, but16 the life of the bodies takes place in an underworld; compared to the sky and the sun, the earth is like Hades; images and shadows are the objects of bodily senses, not the surroundings of bodyless souls; the true and real is17 not the world in which we move and live and which we18 have to part from in death, but the ideas seen and grasped by the eyes of the mind. In a sense, Plato’s periagôgé was a turning-about20 by which everything that was commonly believed in Greece in accordance with the Homeric religion came to stand on its head. It is as though the underworld of Hades had risen to the surface of the earth. But this reversal of Homer did not21 actually turn Homer upside down or downside up22, since the dichotomy within which such an operation alone can take place is of Platonic origin and quite alien to the Homeric world.24 No turning about25 of the tradition can therefore ever land us26 in the original Homeric “27position.” It is true that28 Plato set forth29 his doctrine of ideas solely for30 political purposes31 in the form of a reversal of Homer; but thereby he established32 the framework within which33 such turning operations are not34 far-fetched possibilities but predetermined by the conceptual structure itself. The development of philosophy in late antiquity in the various schools, which fought each other with a fanaticism unequaled35 in the pre-Christian36 world, consists of turnings-about and shifting emphases38 on one of two opposite terms, made possible by39 Plato’s separation of a world of mere shadowy appearance and the world of eternally true ideas. He40 himself had given the first example in the periagôgé from the cave to41 the sky42. When Hegel finally, in a last gigantic effort, had gathered together into one consistent self-developing whole43 the various strands of traditional philosophy as they had developed from Plato’s original concept, the same splitting up into two conflicting schools of thought, though on a much lower level, took place,45 and right-wing and left-wing, idealistic and materialistic,46 Hegelians could for a short while dominate philosophical thought.
45
The significance of Kierkegaard’s, Marx’s and Nietzsche’s challenge2 to the tradition,3 though none of them would have been possible without the synthetizing4 achievement of Hegel and his concept of history, lies in5 that they constitute a much more radical turning-about than the mere upside-down operations with their weird alternatives6 between sensualism and idealism, materialism and spiritualism, and even immanentism and transcendentalism imply. (7If Marx had been merely a “materialist” who brought Hegel’s “idealism” down to earth, his influence would have been equally8 short-lived and limited to scholarly quarrels as that of his contemporaries. Hegels9 basic assumption was that the dialectical movement of thought is identical with the dialectical movement of matter itself. Thus,10 he had11 hoped to bridge the abyss which had opened with Descartes13 between man, defined as res cogitans and the world, defined as res extensa, between cognition and reality, between15 thinking and being. (16The spiritual homelessness of modern man finds its first expressions in this Cartesian perplexity and the Pascalian answer. )17 Hegel claimed that the discovery of dialectical movement as a universal law,19 ruling both human reason and affairs and the inner “reason” of the20 events in nature21, accomplished even more than a mere correspondence between intelectus22 and res, whose coincidence pre-Cartesian philosophy had defined as truth. By introducing the Spirit and its self-realization in movement, Hegel believed to have23 demonstrated an ontological identity of matter and idea. To Hegel, therefore, it would have been of no great importance whether one started this movement from the viewpoint of consciousness , which at one moment begins to “materialize”,24 or whether one chooses25 as starting point matter which moves into27 the direction of “spritualization”,28 becomes conscious of itself. (How little Marx doubted these fundaments29 of his teacher appears from the role which30 he ascribed to self-consciousness in the form of class-consciousness in history.) In other words, Marx was as little31 a “dialectical materialist” as32 Hegel was a “dialectical idealist”; the very concept of dialectical movement, as Hegel had33 conceived of34 it as a universal law, and as Marx accepted it, makes the terms “idealism” and “materialism” as philosophical systems meaningless)35. |19 Marx, in his earlier writings especially37, is quite conscious of this and knows that his repudiation of the tradition lies in that he38 does not believe, with Hegel and the tradition39, that the difference Hegel, Preface40 to 2nd ed-of Logic41between man and animal life is ratio or thought, that, in his own words42 “man is essentially spirit”. His44 like Kierkegaard’s and Nietzsche’s turning-around go45 to the core of the matter because46 they question the traditional hierarchy of human capabilities or, to put it another way, they ask again:48 what is49 the specifically human quality of man, but50 do not intend to build systems or Weltanschauungen on this or that premise.	The significance of Kierkegaard’s, Marx’s,1 and Nietzsche’s challenges2 to the tradition--3though none of them would have been possible without the synthesizing4 achievement of Hegel and his concept of history--is5 that they constitute a much more radical turning-about than the mere upside-down operations with their weird oppositions6 between sensualism and idealism, materialism and spiritualism, and even immanentism and transcendentalism imply. If Marx had been merely a “materialist” who brought Hegel’s “idealism” down to earth, his influence would have been as8 short-lived and limited to scholarly quarrels as that of his contemporaries. Hegel’s9 basic assumption was that the dialectical movement of thought is identical with the dialectical movement of matter itself. Thus he hoped to bridge the abyss which Descartes12 had opened between man, defined as res cogitans,14 and the world, defined as res extensa, between cognition and reality, thinking and being. The spiritual homelessness of modern man finds its first expressions in this Cartesian perplexity and the Pascalian answer. Hegel claimed that the discovery of the18 dialectical movement as a universal law ruling both human reason and affairs and the inner “reason” of natural20 events, accomplished even more than a mere correspondence between intellectus22 and res, whose coincidence pre-Cartesian philosophy had defined as truth. By introducing the Spirit and its self-realization in movement, Hegel believed he had23 demonstrated an ontological identity of matter and idea. To Hegel, therefore, it would have been of no great importance whether one started this movement from the viewpoint of consciousness, which at one moment begins to “materialize,”24 or whether one chose25 as starting point matter,26 which, moving in27 the direction of “spiritualization,”28 becomes conscious of itself. (How little Marx doubted these fundamentals29 of his teacher appears from the role he ascribed to self-consciousness in the form of class-consciousness in history.) In other words, Marx was no more31 a “dialectical materialist” than32 Hegel was a “dialectical idealist”; the very concept of dialectical movement, as Hegel conceived it as a universal law, and as Marx accepted it, makes the terms “idealism” and “materialism” as philosophical systems meaningless. Marx, especially36 in his earlier writings, is quite conscious of this and knows that his repudiation of the tradition and of Hegel38 does not lie in his “materialism39,” but in his refusal40 to assume that the difference41 between man and animal life is ratio or thought, that, in Hegel’s words,42 “man is essentially spirit.43” His turning-about,44 like Kierkegaard’s and Nietzsche’s, goes45 to the core of the matter;46 they all47 question the traditional hierarchy of human capabilities or, to put it another way, they ask again what the specifically human quality of man is; they50 do not intend to build systems or Weltanschauungen on this or that premise.
46
The allegory of the cave is told by Plato in the context of a strictly political dialogue which wants to find out1 the best form of government in the sense of the best way to organize the living-together of man2. As such, the story does3 not so much contain4 Plato’s doctrine of ideas as it contains5 the relationship and applicability of this doctrine to the political realm of a common world, and, at the same time, tells the story the philosopher in this world as though it were his concentrated biography, the life of the philosopher. Important in our context is that the transcendence of the ideas, their existence outside the cave of human affairs, does not imply an absolute transcendence in the sense of other-worldliness; the ideas transcend only the common world of living-together. (It is true that Plato in the concluding myth of the Republic as in the concluding myths of Gorgias and Phaidon established an10 tangible, physical Hereafter11; but these myths were meant as myths, and neither12 as parables nor as13 truth; they were given, not as part of Plato’s14 own political philosophy which he taught his pupils, but as the corresponding fairy-tale16 for the multitude which is17 unable to perceive truth. These myths, far from being able to explain the cave allegory, are invented precisely because the cave parable is for the few and not supposed to convince the many.) What Plato18 had hoped to find in the ideas for his19 political purposes were20 absolute standards, units of measurement by which one could measure and21 judge a realm where everything seems to dissolve into relationships and to be relative by definition. It is perfectly true that, in the Paideia II 416, n. 4522words of Werner Jaeger, “the idea that there is a supreme art of measrument23 and that the philosopher’s knowledge of values is the ability to measure, runs through all Plato’s work right down to the end”,25 true to the extent that his work is concerned with politics. The26 transcendence of the ideas is related to27 the world of the polis and not28 more than the transcendence of the yardstick with respect to30 the matter which it is supposed to measure; it is31 the standard which32 transcends necessarily33 everything to which it is being34 applied. |20 In other words35, the dichotomy between the cave and the sky of cf37.ideas is primarily38 the separation39 between the relativity of human affairs,40 (ta tôn anthrôpôn pragmata) their futility, mortality and ever-changing motion, and absolute truth whose permanent light illuminates this futility. What distinguishes the life in the cave from the life under the sky of ideas is that the former is characterized through activities by which men are related and communicate with each other, that is lexis, speech, and praxis action; while the latter is characterized by blepein eis to aléthestaton, contemplating truth in solitude and, ulimately, in speechlessness.Ep. VII, 341cff. (rhéton gar oudamôs estin hôs alla mathémata. “it cannot be articulated in words like other things we learn.”) In the parable of the cave, Plato does not even mention speech and action as characteristic for its inhabitants, but but depicts their lives as though they too were interested only in seeing, namely first the images on the screen, then the things themselves in the dim light of the fire in the cave, until finally those who want to see the truth must leave the common world of the cave altogether and embark upon their new adventure all by themselves. In other words, the whole realm of human affairs is seen from the viewpoint of a philosophy which assumes that even those who inhabit the cave of ordinary human affairs are human only insofar as they too want to see though they are fool ed by shadows and images.43	The allegory of the cave is told by Plato in the context of a strictly political dialogue searching for1 the best form of government in the sense of the best way to organize the living-together of men2. As such, the story contains3 not so much Plato’s doctrine of ideas as the relationship and applicability of this doctrine to the political realm of a common world, and, at the same time, tells the story of6 the philosopher in this world as though it were his concentrated biography, the life of the philosopher. Important in our context is the fact7 that the transcendence of the ideas, their existence outside the cave of human affairs, does not imply an absolute transcendence in the sense of other-worldliness; the ideas transcend only the common world of living-together. (It is true that Plato in the concluding myth of the Republic,8 as in the concluding myths of Gorgias and Phaidon,9 established a10 tangible, physical hereafter11; but these myths were meant as myths, and not12 as parables or13 truth; they were given, not as part of his14 own political philosophy,15 which he taught his pupils, but as the corresponding fairytale16 for the multitude unable to perceive truth. These myths, far from being able to explain the cave allegory, are invented precisely because the cave parable is for the few and not supposed to convince the many.) Plato’s doctrine of ideas is not political in origin; but once he18 had discovered them, he hoped to use them for19 political purposes as20 absolute standards, units of measurement by which one could judge a realm where everything seems to dissolve into relationships and to be relative by definition. It is perfectly true that, in the words of Werner Jaeger, “the idea that there is a supreme art of measurement23 and that the philosopher’s knowledge of values is the ability to measure, runs through all of24 Plato’s work right down to the end”--25true to the extent that his work is concerned with politics. And it is here that the26 transcendence of the ideas has its origin; they are transcendent in terms of27 the world of the polis and no28 more so29 than the yardstick is transcendent in terms of30 the matter which it is supposed to measure; the standard necessarily32 transcends everything to which it is applied. Not the ideas themselves35, but36 the non-religious concept of transcendence in philosophy, is political in origin37. In other words,38 the dichotomy39 between the relativity of human affairs (ta tôn anthrôpôn pragmata),41 their futility, mortality,42 and ever-changing motion, and absolute truth whose permanent light illuminates this futility.
47
[keine Entsprechung vorhanden]	What distinguishes the life in the cave from the life under the sky of ideas is that the former is characterized by activities in which men are related and communicate with each other, that is lexis, speech, and praxis, action, while the latter is characterized by blepein eis to aléthestaton, contemplating the truest in solitude and ultimately in speechlessness (rhéton gar oudamôs estin hôs alla mathémata, “it can never be articulated in words like other things we learn”). In the parable of the cave, Plato does not even mention speech and action, but depicts the lives of the inhabitants as though they too were interested only in seeing: first the images on the screen, then the things themselves in the dim light of the fire in the cave, until finally those who want to see the truth must leave the common world of the cave altogether and embark upon their new adventure all by themselves. In other words, the whole realm of human affairs is seen from the viewpoint of a philosophy which assumes that even those who inhabit the cave of ordinary human affairs are human only insofar as they too want to see, though deceived by shadows and images.
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This dichotomy between seeing the truth in solitude and speechlessness and being caught in the web of relationships and interdepencies2 of human affairs through speaking and acting became authoritative for the tradition of political thought. It is at the basis of our common understanding of the relationship between thought and action and as such was not dependent upon an acceptance of Plato’s doctrine of ideas; it depended much rather on a general attitude which Plato expressed in a4 random remark which Aristotle later quoted almost verbatim, namely that the beginning of all philosophy is thaumadzein, the surprised wonder at everything that is as it is. This surprise and wonder separates6 the few from the many and alienates7 them from the affairs of man. Aristotle, therefore, without accepting Plato’s doctrine of ideas and even repudiating Plato’s ideal state, still followed him in the main by separating the bios theorétikos9 from the bios politikos and by basing the rules for the latter on the experiences of the former. The prerogative10 of seeing over doing and speaking, of the vita contemplativa over the vita activa, could be challenged only after11 the modern age in the rise of12 an altogether new “scientific spirit” |21 had begun to doubt that things are as they appear and replaced13 experience, the reasoning but non-interfering observation of appearances with the modern experiement15, where we prescribe conditions in order to know, until the search for truth eventually ended in the conviction of the modern world that man can know only what he makes himself .	This dichotomy,1 between seeing the truth in solitude and speechlessness and being caught in the web of relationships and interdependencies2 of human affairs through speaking and acting,3 became authoritative for the tradition of political thought. It is at the basis of our common understanding of the relationship between thought and action and as such was not dependent upon an acceptance of Plato’s doctrine of ideas; it depended much rather on a general attitude which Plato expressed in another4 random remark and5 which Aristotle later quoted almost verbatim, namely that the beginning of all philosophy is thaumadzein, the surprised wonder at everything that is as it is. This surprise and wonder separate6 the few from the many and alienate7 them from the affairs of man. Aristotle, therefore, without accepting Plato’s doctrine of ideas,8 and even repudiating Plato’s ideal state, still followed him in the main by separating the bios theôrétikos9 from the bios politikos and by basing the rules for the latter on the experiences of the former. The priority10 of seeing over doing and speaking, of the vita contemplativa over the vita activa, could be challenged only in11 the modern age, when12 an altogether new “scientific spirit” had begun to doubt that things are as they appear, replacing13 experience, the reasoning but non-interfering observation of appearances,14 with the modern experiment15, where we prescribe conditions in order to know, until the search for truth eventually ended in the conviction of the modern world that man can know only what he makes himself.
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Since the rise of modern science, whose spirit is expressed in the Cartesian philosophy of doubt and mistrust, the conceptual framework of the tradition has not been secure. The dichotomy between contemplation and action and the hierarchy which ruled that truth is ultimately conceived2 only in speechless and action-less3 seeing could not be upheld under conditions where6 science became7 active and did8 in order to know. When the trust that things appear as they really are was gone, the concept of truth as revelation had become doubtful and with it the unquestioning faith into the revelation of9 God. The notion of theory changed its meaning. It no longer meant a system of reasonably connected truths which as such had not been made but given to reason and the senses, but was transformed into10 the modern scientific theory which is a working hypothesis, changing in accordance with the results it produces and depending for its validity not in11 what it “reveals” but whether it “works”.13 By the same process, Plato’s ideas lost their autonomous power of illuminating14 the world and the universe and first became,15 what they had been for Plato only in their relationship to the political realm, standards and measurements,16 the regulating, limiting forces of man’s own reasoning mind as which17 they appear in Kant. Until--18after the prerogative19 of reason over doing, of the mind that prescribes20 its rules to the actions of man21, had been lost in the industrial revolution’s22 transformation of the whole world whose23 success seemed to prove that man’s doings and fabrications prescribe their rules to reasoning,25--they26 finally became mere values whose validity is determined,27 not by one or many men,28 but by society as a whole in its ever-changing29 needs.	Since the rise of modern science, whose spirit is expressed in the Cartesian philosophy of doubt and mistrust, the conceptual framework of the tradition has not been secure. The dichotomy between contemplation and action,1 and the hierarchy which ruled that truth is ultimately perceived2 only in speechless and actionless3 seeing,4 could not be upheld under the5 conditions of6 science becoming7 active and doing8 in order to know. When the trust that things appear as they really are was gone, the concept of truth as revelation had become doubtful and with it the unquestioning faith in a revealed9 God. The notion of theory changed its meaning. It no longer meant a system of reasonably connected truths which as such had not been made but given to reason and the senses. Rather it became10 the modern scientific theory which is a working hypothesis, changing in accordance with the results it produces and depending for its validity not on11 what it “reveals” but on12 whether it “works.”13 By the same process, Plato’s ideas lost their autonomous power to illuminate14 the world and the universe. First they became15 what they had been for Plato only in their relationship to the political realm, standards and measurements--16the regulating, limiting forces of man’s own reasoning mind, as17 they appear in Kant. Then,18 after the priority19 of reason over doing, of the mind prescribing20 its rules to the actions of men21, had been lost in the transformation of the whole world by the Industrial Revolution--a transformation the23 success of which24 seemed to prove that man’s doings and fabrications prescribe their rules to reason-25-these ideas26 finally became mere values whose validity is determined not by one or many men but by society as a whole in its everchanging functional29 needs.
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The1 values in their very2 ex- and interchangeability3 are the only “ideas” left to and understood by “socialized men”, that is by6 men who have decided never to leave what to Plato was the cave of common9 human affairs and to venture by themselves12 into a world and a life which only13 the ubiquitous functionalization of modern men could deprive14 of their15 most elementary character which is to instill16 wonder at that what17 is as it is. This very real development is reflected and foreshadowed in Marx’s political thought which, when it turned18 the tradition upside down within its own framework, did not get rid of Plato’s ideas but began to abolish21 the clear sky on which they23 as many more things could make their appearance25.	These1 values in their ex- and inter-changeability3 are the only “ideas” left to (4and understood by)5 “socialized men.” These are6 men who have decided never to leave what to Plato was “7the cave”8 of everyday9 human affairs,10 and never11 to venture on their own12 into a world and a life which, perhaps,13 the ubiquitous functionalization of modern society has deprived14 of one of its15 most elementary characteristics--the instilling of16 wonder at that which17 is as it is. This very real development is reflected and foreshadowed in Marx’s political thought. Turning18 the tradition upside down within its own framework, he19 did not actually20 get rid of Plato’s ideas, though he did record21 the darkening of the22 clear sky where those ideas,23 as well as24 many other presences, had once become visible to the eyes of men25.