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Superstate and Superman


ISSUE:  Summer 1941

The Dual State. By Ernst Fraenkel. Oxford University Press. $3.00. Nictssche. By Crane Brinton. Harvard University Press. $2.50. What Nietzsche Means. By George Allen Morgan, Jr. Harvard University Press, $4.00. Darwin, Marx, Wagner. By Jacques Barzun. Atlantic Monthly Press, tittle, Brown and Company. $2.75. Reason and Revolution: Hegel and the Rist of Modern Social Theory. By Herbert Marcuse. Oxford University Press. $4.00. Challenge to Karl Marx. By John Kenneth Turner. Reynal and Hitchcock $3.50.

That the totalitarian state is a “superstate” which has made the individual completely subservient to the group is apparently generally accepted as an obvious truth. Yet it is at best a half-truth which, like most half-truths, does more to obscure than to enlighten. It is undeniable that under the totalitarian dictatorships the individual has lost all freedom and all civil liberties; undoubtedly he has become completely enslaved. Yet it does not follow from this that the state has acquired the power which the individual has lost. The fact that the nineteenth century was wont to think of the state and the individual as not only mutually exclusive, but as comprehending the total of social and political reality, has blinded us to the fact that totalitarianism does not recognize the state as supreme. Although the individual is completely subservient to the state, the state itself is only an instrument of the Party, and the Party itself is only an instrument of an individual, the Leader. Over and above the superstate stands the superman. Actually the totalitarian state is a dissolution of the state as we have known it; and the degradation of the state is a far more important and far more novel feature of totalitarianism than the elevation of the state, which has been, after all, basic to Western political life for many centuries.

Of course, those who with Marx call any organization of power a “state” will neither understand nor admit this. But to identify “state” with organization of power is not only contrary to common usage; it is an abuse of a political and social concept which derives its utility from a specific meaning. We commonly call a “state” only an organization of power under which the entire social body is subject to an objective rule. That rule need not be a “rule of law”; it may just as well be a “code of honor,” or the dogmas of the Catholic Church. But it is essential that the objective rule bind and obligate the ruler as well as the ruled. This has been the dividing line between the state and organizations outside the law ever since Aristotle’s times.

The traditional conflict between the individual and the collective state is a conflict within the law. No greater and no more harmful confusion can be imagined than that which comes from applying to Nazi-ism or Soviet Communism the terms “collectivism” or “statism.” All of us, even the most extreme individualists, are willing to recognize and accept collectivism as noble, legitimate, and inspiring under certain circumstances. The soldier who sacrifices himself to cover the retreat of his comrades and the priest who visits a hospital during an epidemic are examples of the triumph of the objective rule of the group over the individual; and none of us will deny that these are examples in which the objective rule of the group ought to triumph over the individual.

Totalitarianism attacks this very objective rule by converting the state into an instrument of purely arbitrary, individual decision. Fascist and Nazi theoreticians and politicians understood this much more clearly and much earlier than their democratic opponents did. In Fascist and Nazi literature—particularly in the latter—it was insisted from the start that Nazi-ism supersedes the state and that this constitutes its most important feature. The failure to take these assertions of the Nazi theoreticians seriously has been responsible for some of the worst underestimates of the danger which Nazi-ism represents. And an understanding of the true double character of the totalitarian state, of its polarity between superstate and superman, seems to this reviewer most important.

The first theoretical discussion of this problem which has so far appeared in English is Ernst Fraenkel’s “The Dual State.” A practicing lawyer in Germany until 1988, Dr. Fraenkel, by presenting the story of the development of German jurisdiction, shows how the rule of the arbitrary individual emerged dominant over the absolute state. That the discussion is not confined to theory but is based on concrete decisions of the highest German courts makes it particularly valuable and particularly convincing.

Less convincing is Mr. Fraenkel’s attempt to find a theoretical answer to the question: What is the totalitarian state? In the first place, the book—which was obviously written before the German-Russian pact of two years ago—closely follows Marxist cliches that present Fascism as the last stand of capitalism. Second, Dr. Fraenkel has no very clear theory of law, and he vacillates between the view which declares that law is what the Courts declare to be law, and that which maintains that there is a fundamental and unchangeable natural law. Finally, a reader not conversant with German legal procedure will have some difficulty in following Dr. Fraenkel in his more technical arguments. But on the whole this is one of the most stimulating books on the totalitarian state which this reviewer has seen for a long time; in its approach from the point of view of legal theory and jurisdiction it is original and novel.

In the Nazis’ totalitarian state Nietzsche has been made the patron saint of the system, but Crane Brinton’s book shows that it was necessary for the Germans to suppress a good half of Nietzsche’s work, which would otherwise have truthfully represented him as an anti-nationalist, an anti-Wagnerian, an admirer of the Jew Bizet, a “good European” and anti-German. In the final six chapters of “Nietzsche,” Mr. Brinton brilliantly explains what the philosopher means to our present world, how many and what widely divergent streams he has enriched, and into how many channels his thinking has penetrated. If his book were simply a discussion that could have been called “We and Nietzsche,” it would be one of the most comprehensive, unbiased, and impressive works in the field of political philosophy.

However, Mr. Brinton has not confined himself to a discussion of Nietzsche’s meaning and position in the contemporary world. The first half of his book is a biography of his subject. Much as Mr. Brinton respects and even admires the dead Nietzsche, he dislikes and despises the living one, Such an approach to a historical figure leads almost inevitably to an attempt at debunking, and Mr. Brinton has not been able to resist the temptation. All the facts about Nietzsche’s life which he gives are unquestionably correct. Nietzsche was certainly not a well adjusted citizen enjoying a normal family life and good friendly relations with his neighbors. He was the egotistic, shoddy, theatrical, vain, and unbalanced psychopath of Mr. Brinton’s portrait. But, as with all debunking biographies, the reader is left with an unanswered question: Why could such a cheap and contemptible comedian have the influence that he undoubtedly had and still has? And the question is particularly pressing in this case, for the second part of Mr. Brinton’s book clearly shows the extent to which Nietzsche has attracted some of the most lucid and most balanced minds of our time, such as Bergson, Thomas Mann, Bernard Shaw, and H. L. Mencken.

If Mr. Brinton sees in Nietzsche an impostor, George Allen Morgan, Jr. sees in him a great philosopher. Mr. Morgan’s “What Nietzsche Means”—a labor of love—attempts to construct a consistent system out of Nietzsche’s epigrammatic and purposely obscure pieces. Mr. Morgan is what Mr. Brinton calls “a gentle Nietzschean,” and he makes Nietzsche conform to a consistent pattern by explaining away all of his love of violence, his hatred of Western civilization, and his lust for war. The attempt to make Nietzsche conform to a consistent pattern arises from the belief, shared by both Mr. Brinton and Mr. Morgan, that Nietzsche was successful. Nietzsche’s superman, as drawn by Mr. Brinton, looks suspiciously like Adolf Hitler; the same superman drawn by Mr. Morgan is the spit and image of Winston Churchill. To this reviewer its seems that here we have a basic misunderstanding about the nature and the consequences of the revolt against the nineteenth century, of which Nietzsche was but one example.

Actually, the Nazis could have found much better slogans in Carlyle, Ruskin, Henry and Brooks Adams, and Baudelaire than they did in Nietzsche—who just happens to be the most fashionable one of this group. Yet apart from the slogans, those rebels against the nineteenth century certainly did not contribute much to the ideology or philosophy of totalitarianism. The error—which exists in the minds of Nazi leaders just as much as it does in the minds of the opponents of totalitarianism—finds its most perfect expression in the persistent use of the word “romantic” in the description of Fascist and Nazi ideologies. But it was Neville Chamberlain returning from Munich with “peace in our time” who was the romantic; Mr. Hitler, who was accelerating his armaments, was the realist. Certainly the belief in the harmonious effects of international free trade is considerably more “romantic” than the belief in the immediate benefits of a smash-and-grab commercial policy. Only if we call every opposition to the dominant nineteenth century philosophy “romanticism,” regardless of the nature of the opposition, can we justify lumping Nietzsche and Hitler together. Otherwise we are guilty of romanticism ourselves.

The totalitarian state is a direct descendant of the nineteenth century itself, not of its critics. There is more than a slight kernel of truth in the wisecrack, fashionable in liberal German circles in the first years of Hitler’s rule, that the anti-Semitism of the Nazi movement is a kind of (Edipus complex, because the fathers of Nazi-ism were the four most prominent nineteenth century Jews—Marx, Bergson, Rath-enau, and Freud. Superficial as such an approach is, it gives considerably more of the truth than we can get by tracing the genealogy of Fascism back to the anti-mechanistic rebels of 1850 or 1870.

This thought is the starting point of Jacques Barzun’s “Darwin, Marx, Wagner,” which finds the root of the totalitarian revolution in the biological determinism which was the great innovation of the nineteenth century. Mr. Barzun, who has become one of our leading historians of ideas, presents a view of the nineteenth century and its consequences which, without a trace of romanticism, constitutes the most effective critique of the idea of progress this reviewer has seen so far. It is impossible within the frame of a short review to do full justice to a study which is as stimulating and profound as it is witty and elegant. And this reviewer is particularly grateful to Mr. Barzun for having resurrected those free, bold, and noble spirits, Lasalle and Proudhon, who have been buried so long under Marxist obscurantism.

Mr. Barzun sees the solution of our contemporary crisis in a humanist pragmatism; Herbert Marcuse, author of “Reason and Revolution,” regards this pragmatism as the source of all evil. To Mr. Marcuse the abandonment of the Absolute was the beginning of the breakdown of Western civilization, just as to Mr. Barzun the Absolute itself is the evil. Mr. Marcuse’s book pleads for a return to the philosophy of orthodox Marxism, although it actually goes far beyond that. Its most original section is a discussion of Hegel’s system as the fulfillment of idealist philosophy and as the starting point for a new philosophy which seeks its Absolute in the social realm. But the conclusion is an attack on the pragma-tist position. Though Mr. Marcuse is very convincing in his criticism of Positivism, he does not do much to justify the claim that Marxism itself is a possible basis for a free society. With a great deal of documentation he shows that the young Hegel was the philosopher of the French Revolution, but he cannot explain away the fact that the same Hegel became without great difficulty and without a visible break the philosopher of the Prussian absolute military monarchy. Is looks suspiciously like Adolf Hitler; the same superman drawn by Mr. Morgan is the spit and image of Winston Churchill. To this reviewer its seems that here we have a basic misunderstanding about the nature and the consequences of the revolt against the nineteenth century, of which Nietzsche was but one example.

Actually, the Nazis could have found much better slogans in Carlyle, Ruskin, Henry and Brooks Adams, and Baudelaire than they did in Nietzsche—who just happens to be the most fashionable one of this group. Yet apart from the slogans, those rebels against the nineteenth century certainly did not contribute much to the ideology or philosophy of totalitarianism. The error—which exists in the minds of Nazi leaders just as much as it does in the minds of the opponents of totalitarianism—finds its most perfect expression in the persistent use of the word “romantic” in the description of Fascist and Nazi ideologies. But it was Neville , Chamberlain returning from Munich with “peace in our time” who was the romantic; Mr. Hitler, who was accelerating his armaments, was the realist. Certainly the belief in the harmonious effects of international free trade is considerably more “romantic” than the belief in the immediate benefits of a smash-and-grab commercial policy. Only if we call every opposition to the dominant nineteenth century philosophy “romanticism,” regardless of the nature of the opposition, can we justify lumping Nietzsche and Hitler together. Otherwise we are guilty of romanticism ourselves.

The totalitarian state is a direct descendant of the nineteenth century itself, not of its critics. There is more than a slight kernel of truth in the wisecrack, fashionable in liberal German circles in the first years of Hitler’s rule, that the anti-Semitism of the Nazi movement is a kind of (Edipus complex, because the fathers of Nazi-ism were the four most prominent nineteenth century Jews—Marx, Bergson, Rath* enau, and Freud. Superficial as such an approach is, it gives considerably more of the truth than we can get by tracing the genealogy of Fascism back to the anti-mechanistic rebels of 1850 or 1870.

This thought is the starting point of Jacques Barzun’s “Darwin, Marx, Wagner,” which finds the root of the totalitarian revolution in the biological determinism which was the great innovation of the nineteenth century. Mr. Barzun, who has become one of our leading historians of ideas, presents a view of the nineteenth century and its consequences which, without a trace of romanticism, constitutes the most effective critique of the idea of progress this reviewer has seen so far. It is impossible within the frame of a short review to do full justice to a study which is as stimulating and profound as it is witty and elegant. And this reviewer is particularly grateful to Mr. Barzun for having resurrected those free, bold, and noble spirits, Lasalle and Proudhon, who have been buried so long under Marxist obscurantism.

Mr. Barzun sees the solution of our contemporary crisis in a humanist pragmatism; Herbert Marcuse, author of “Reason and Revolution,” regards this pragmatism as the source of all evil. To Mr. Marcuse the abandonment of the Absolute was the beginning of the breakdown of Western civilization, just as to Mr. Barzun the Absolute itself is the evil. Mr. Marcuse’s book pleads for a return to the philosophy of orthodox Marxism, although it actually goes far beyond that. Its most original section is a discussion of Hegel’s system as the fulfillment of idealist philosophy and as the starting point for a new philosophy which seeks its Absolute in the social realm. But the conclusion is an attack on the pragma-tist position. Though Mr. Marcuse is very convincing in his criticism of Positivism, he does not do much to justify the claim that Marxism itself is a possible basis for a free society. With a great deal of documentation he shows that the young Hegel was the philosopher of the French Revolution, but he cannot explain away the fact that the same Hegel became without great difficulty and without a visible break the philosopher of the Prussian absolute military monarchy. Is there any reason to assume that the development of Karl Marx from a philosopher of freedom into a philosopher of totalitarianism was any less inherent in his system than it was in that of his master Hegel?

It was probably unfair to John Kenneth Turner to read his “Challenge to Karl Marx” after having read the books by Mr. Barzun and Mr. Marcuse. In the light of their discussions, Mr. Turner’s basic weakness shows up so strongly as to obscure the many important features of his study. Mr. Turner attempts to disprove the Marxists by quoting the factual evidence against Marx’s assumptions and predictions. Yet Mr. Barzun and Mr. Marcuse make it quite clear that the essence of Marx is not “scientific observation of the facts,” but absolute dogma. And dogmas cannot be disproved by facts; they cannot even be proved by facts. Otherwise they would not be dogmas. The convinced Marxist is as unlikely to be disturbed by sordid reality as is any other Absolutist. And the non-Marxist will hardly need Mr. Turner’s statistics to convince him of something which he has known all along. The value of Mr. Turner’s book, therefore, lies exclusively in his extensive and able analysis of the character and the structure of present-day society. The picture which he gives is full, balanced, and clear, well worth reading for its factual contents alone. The attack on Marxism, however, as on any other totalitarian creed, must come from a basis of faith—a faith in freedom and in the individual —denied by both the superstate and the superman.

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