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NY Review of Books
The Headquarters of Neo-Marxism
Samuel Freeman MARCH 23, 2017 ISSUE
Grand Hotel Abyss: The Lives of the Frankfurt School
by Stuart Jeffries
Verso, 440 pp., $26.95
Habermas: A Biography
by Stefan Müller-Doohm, translated from the German by Daniel Steuer
Polity, 598 pp., $39.95
Adorno and Existence
by Peter E. Gordon
Harvard University Press, 256 pp., $29.95
Marx argued that economic systems have always involved the exploitation
of workers for the benefit of a privileged class that owns and controls
“the means of production.” As a result, according to Marx, workers are
“alienated” from their labor, from the products they make, from other
people, and ultimately from their own humanity since their lives and
labor are determined not by themselves but by the demands of a
privileged class and impersonal market forces.
Workers tolerate this apparent injustice, Marx explains, because
exploitation is hidden from everyone’s view by a complex web of
illusions he calls “ideology.” Significant obfuscations under capitalism
include a wage contract that allegedly gives workers the fair value of
their labor, as well as “ideological nonsense about right” such as “free
and fair exchange,” “fair distribution,” and the claim that capitalists
make a contribution on a par with labor. These and other illusions,
along with religion and the state, all sustain capitalism as a system of
exploitation and alienation.
Marx’s account of ideology or “false consciousness” is his most enduring
legacy in the West. It provides the intellectual foundations for the
work of the Marxists who founded the Frankfurt School in the 1920s and
continued developing it until the 1970s. They provided the basis for
what is called “critical theory,” which, drawing on Marxist and Freudian
ideas, emphasizes the underlying, often hidden forces that determine the
shape of culture. The three books reviewed here survey the lives and
ideas of the most famous members of the Frankfurt School.
The Institute for Social Research, known as the Frankfurt School, opened
in Frankfurt, Germany, in 1924 as a neo-Marxist institute devoted to
examining and criticizing contemporary capitalist society. It was
endowed by the world’s largest grain trader, Hermann Weil; his son Felix
asked him to fund a multidisciplinary academic institute that would
explain why the Communist revolution had failed in Germany and how it
might succeed in the future. From 1930 to 1958, the philosopher Max
Horkheimer was director of the institute. His tenure included the
Frankfurt School’s period of exile in the United States from 1934, after
the Nazis took power, until the early 1950s.
The leading thinkers of the Frankfurt School were Horkheimer, the
philosophers Theodor Adorno and Herbert Marcuse, and the psychoanalyst
Erich Fromm.1 The literary critic and philosopher Walter Benjamin,
though not officially a member of the institute, was closely associated
with it and strongly influenced its thinking. All of these figures,
except Fromm, were the children of successful Jewish businessmen. Like
Felix Weil, they rejected their capitalist fathers’ material success
while simultaneously benefiting from it.
Grand Hotel Abyss by Stuart Jeffries, a well-regarded British journalist
and cultural critic, is an engaging and accessible history of the lives
and main ideas of the leading thinkers of the Frankfurt School, from
1900 through the 1960s. A concluding chapter recounts the school’s turn
away from Marxism toward left-democratic liberalism under the influence
of Jürgen Habermas.
From the outset, the Frankfurt School concentrated on accounting for
the failure of the working classes to embrace communism. During the
1930s, it used Freudian psychoanalytical theory to explain why the
working classes were captivated by capitalist consumerism and why they
rallied to Nazism. Frankfurt School members initially saw fascism as one
of the last stages of capitalism, citing as evidence the alliance of
capitalist industrial leaders with Hitler. However, except for Marcuse
during the 1960s, they later came to doubt that capitalism would give
way to communism in the West.
The title of Jeffries’s book derives from a dismissive quip by the
Hungarian Marxist György Lukács, who charged that Adorno and other
Frankfurt School members had taken up residence in the “Grand Hotel
Abyss,” a retreat “equipped with every comfort, on the edge of an abyss,
of nothingness, of absurdity.” The Frankfurt School, Lukács suggested,
had abandoned Marx’s connection of theory with revolutionary activity
(“praxis”). They were comfortably cocooned in the domain of theory,
observing the spectacle of monopoly capitalism from afar and
ineffectually commenting on its destruction of the human spirit. Bertolt
Brecht made similar criticisms, claiming that the Frankfurt School
philosophers had betrayed the revolution they affected to espouse. In
condemning the Frankfurt School for its aloofness and abandonment of the
working class, Lukács and Brecht were also censuring it for elitism.
Frankfurt School members had good reason for pessimism about the
effectiveness of Marxist theory in fomenting revolutionary practice.
Following the failure of Marxist revolution in Germany in 1919, most of
the working class supported a very different kind of revolution. With
the rise of totalitarian fascism in the 1930s, the Frankfurt School lost
confidence in the ability of workers to mount a revolution against
monopoly capitalism and the states sustaining it, as Marx predicted they
would. It regarded workers as paralyzed by conformist tendencies and
unable to discern the source of their grievances in the capitalist
system. One of the Frankfurt School’s tasks during and after the 1930s
was to explain the illusions that drove both the proletariat and the
bourgeoisie not just to conformity but also to barbarism and the
destruction of European civilization. For the next forty years, the
Frankfurt School engaged in criticism of nearly every aspect of
capitalist society.
Walter Benjamin is regarded by many (including Jeffries) as the most
original thinker associated with the Frankfurt School. His literary
criticism on Kafka, Proust, Baudelaire, and others has been enormously
influential, as have his essays on modern art and on the philosophy of
history.2 Despite Frankfurt School members’ efforts to help him, he was
unable to find an academic position or escape from Europe in the late
1930s. Jeffries describes Benjamin’s tragic life, including his suicide
in Port Bou, Spain, near the French border, as he was trying to escape
the Gestapo and to embark for America via Portugal.3
Benjamin famously said in “Theses on the Philosophy of History” that
“there is no document of civilisation that is not at the same time a
document of barbarism.”4 Equally renowned is his metaphor in the same
essay that the Angel of History looks backward and witnesses the
constantly accumulating wreckage of history as a single catastrophe.
This concept of the inseparability of civilization and barbarism, a
recurring theme in Benjamin, deeply influenced the Frankfurt School.
Jeffries cites the “Theses” as the basis of Horkheimer and Adorno’s
Dialectic of Enlightenment (1944), the most prominent single work of the
Frankfurt School. In that book’s preface, the authors say they set out
to do “nothing less than to explain why humanity, instead of entering a
truly human state, is sinking into a new kind of barbarism.” They argue
that Nazi totalitarianism was not a historical aberration. It was rooted
in capitalism, in the Enlightenment, and in Western civilization.5
Horkheimer and Adorno contend that Enlightenment reasoning has become
subjective and instrumental, no longer pursuing the discovery of
objective universal truths, true human values, or the justice and
injustice of actions and institutions. They argue that there is a
controlling imperative that capitalist firms maximize profits without
regard to the consequences. At the same time, they argue that when
rational participants in the economy maximize their satisfactions, they
make use of instrumental reason and strategic calculations that show the
amoral nature of capitalism and its tendency to promote any arbitrary or
even evil purpose, including fascism, for the sake of economic gain.
For Adorno and Horkheimer, the modern scientific method also embodies
instrumental reasoning, since its purpose is to exploit both nature and
humankind. The social and the natural sciences have become tools for use
by capitalist oppressors. The economic structure of society now shapes
the problems science addresses and the direction of scientific work.
Moreover, the scientific picture of the world implicit in
“positivism”—which Adorno and Horkheimer saw as dominant in Western
philosophy—distorts reality by insisting that truth could only be
arrived at through observations of the external world and mathematical
or logical operations involving those observations, with no regard for
moral or aesthetic values.
In the 1960s Karl Popper defended the scientific method against
Horkheimer and Adorno’s attacks, in the so-called “positivism dispute.”
He argued that the scientific method rose above class interests; for all
its shortcomings when applied to the social sciences, it was the only
way to critically engage in a disinterested search for truth. Critical
theory falls far short in this regard because of its social and
political radicalism.
In the chapter “The Culture Industry—Enlightenment as Mass Deception,”
which Adorno wrote, he cites the pervasiveness of capitalist ideology in
American mass culture and ruthlessly criticizes what he calls “The
Culture Industry.” He depicts popular music, radio, television,
Hollywood movies, and advertising as mindless and oppressive. (This
condemnation of popular culture and music has promoted charges of
elitism and even racism, in Adorno’s attitudes toward jazz.) Mass
culture is not the result of self-expression by ordinary people but an
artificial concoction imposed from above to distract and deter them from
engaging in genuinely valuable and fulfilling activities. Adorno says
that within capitalism the alleged freedom to choose that drives mass
culture and capitalist consumerism is only an illusion, an ideology,
which always reflects economic coercion.
Adorno is generally regarded as the most philosophically complex member
of the Frankfurt School.6 His critiques of Kierkegaard, Husserl, and
Heidegger are the focus of Adorno and Existence, a perceptive
philosophical inquiry by the Harvard intellectual historian Peter
Gordon. Adorno condemns the self-focus and subjectivity of the
existentialism of Heidegger and Sartre and the phenomenology of Husserl.
As Gordon explains, for Adorno, the “jargon of authenticity” in
twentieth-century existentialism was the ultimate exercise in bourgeois
narcissism and self-absorption, a refusal to face up to social
realities. He considered “authenticity” in Heidegger and other
“philosophers of fascism” a façade for anti-Semitism.
Gordon insightfully discusses the critique of Heidegger and
existentialist ontology that Adorno presents in his main philosophical
work, Negative Dialectics (1966). A major theme of this work is the
mistaken focus on the subject of self-consciousness that has epitomized
modern philosophy since Descartes and that is especially pronounced in
the idealism of Kant and Hegel. Their “fallacy of constitutive
subjectivity” ignores what Adorno calls “the primacy of the object,” or
the crucial part played by material and social reality and historical
circumstances in shaping consciousness and self-awareness.
According to Adorno, idealism misconceives the subjectivity of the self
and its relationship to the world: it regards the self as ultimately
constituting reality—“the absolute I as the world’s source.” The
“sovereign mind” refuses to tolerate the idea of the objectivity of
nature as prior to and independent of the self’s subjectivity. This is
idealism’s “rage against nature,” which aims to conquer and subdue all
that is “not-I” or different from itself, and regard it as inferior.
Adorno sees existentialism as a failed attempt to break free of
idealism’s subjectivity. He conceives that his own philosophical efforts
are successful in achieving such freedom.7
Adorno and Horkheimer were consummate pessimists. Erich Fromm was more
optimistic, as was Herbert Marcuse to a lesser degree. Both remained in
the US after Adorno and Horkheimer returned to Frankfurt in 1949. Fromm
led the Frankfurt School’s turn toward Freud in the 1930s, but he was
dismissed from the institute in 1939 on grounds that his interpretations
of Freud were unorthodox.8 Defying Marx and Freud, Fromm’s “socialist
humanism” maintains that autonomous individuals can free themselves from
the determinism of both instinct and society in order to achieve limited
self-transformation, freedom, and genuine love, even under capitalist
conditions.
Marcuse was a leading theorist of the New Left in the 1960s and 1970s.
In One-Dimensional Man (1964),9 he contends that rising standards of
living made the working classes too comfortable to revolt against
capitalism, while consumerism and pop culture joined religion as opiates
of the masses. The working classes, he argued, should feel a need to
revolt as a result of prevailing conditions of self-alienation and
unfreedom. For Marcuse, members of a capitalist society are estranged
from themselves, from their work, and from one another. He argues that
we are shackled to the consumption of material goods and to the
emptiness of popular culture. The false demands of consumerism drive us
to work far more than necessary. Our tastes are manipulated, and we lack
the freedom to discern our “true needs.”
Marcuse’s argument in Eros and Civilization (1955) is more optimistic.
There, against Freud, he advocates the unleashing of the pleasure
principle and sexuality in order to defy bourgeois morality and create a
revolutionary consciousness by fusing Reason and Eros: “The striving for
lasting gratification makes not only for an enlarged order of libidinal
relations (‘community’) but also…Eros redefines reason in its own terms.
Reasonable is what sustains the order of gratification.” Marcuse was
evidently half right according to his own scheme: “Libidinal relations”
have “enlarged,” but revolutionary consciousness has not; capitalism and
its ideology are more ascendant than ever.
The Frankfurt School categorizes capitalist society’s idea of freedom
as, to use Isaiah Berlin’s term, no more than “negative liberty,” or
“freedom from” others’ interference. This leads to the atomization of
society. “Positive freedom,” in contrast, permits people to act in ways
that realize true human values. This form of liberty becomes possible
only with socioeconomic change that ends the alienation of individuals
from themselves and others.
Liberalism holds that individuals should be free to decide for
themselves what is good and to act on their preferences and choices.
Capitalism in principle complements the liberal view of human value,
since supply is responsive to demand and the system (allegedly) tends to
maximize satisfactions of subjective preferences—those people pay for.
Beneath the Frankfurt School’s relentless criticism of capitalism and
its culture lies a rejection of liberalism and subjective value,
motivated by a kind of ethical perfectionism.
These thinkers do not care about the satisfaction of desire or consumer
preference for its own sake. Their writing incorporates an ever-present
but never clearly enunciated view that “emancipation” consists in the
self-realization of “true human needs and values.” This is to be
accomplished through the exercise and development of distinct human
capacities as all members of society engage in such rewarding activities
as democratic participation in production, politics, and culture. For
the Frankfurt School, capitalist consumer culture makes emancipation
impossible because it generates false needs that become strong desires.
These are not demanded by nature or required by the self-development of
human capacities or other forces of production; nor are they
necessitated as preconditions for realizing true human values.
Although Frankfurt School members thought Marx exaggerated the
importance of labor in his critique of capitalism,10 they too recognized
as a fundamental problem what they took to be capitalism’s encouragement
of false pursuits and purposes that prevent the autonomous realization
of true human values. They indicted the capitalist system’s utilitarian
emphasis on maximizing wealth and, therewith, economic satisfactions of
desires, as well as its reduction of reason to purely instrumental
thinking aimed at controlling nature and humankind. They also condemned
capitalism’s manipulation, by advertising and other means, of people’s
preferences for consumer goods and its suppression of human creativity,
spontaneity, and freedom of the self.
The Frankfurt School’s leading theorists were neither skeptics about
truth nor relativists about value.11 The phrase “false consciousness”
suggests that people have a misconception of reality and hold false
beliefs and values. But the Frankfurt School never articulated an
explicit statement of true human values or a theory of society wherein
such values could be realized. This was not because they were
relativists but rather because they were pessimists about the validity
of philosophical and ethical knowledge under capitalism.
Jürgen Habermas is the primary representative of the second generation
of the Frankfurt School. He is regarded in the US as the major German
philosopher and social theorist of the past forty-five years. Stefan
Müller-Doohm’s biography is a thorough, detailed chronicle of Habermas’s
intellectual career.
Habermas came to Frankfurt in 1956 to be Adorno’s research assistant. He
remained for five years and then accepted academic posts at various
German institutions. He eventually returned to the University of
Frankfurt in 1983, retiring in 1993. Throughout his career, he has made
many substantial contributions to philosophy, sociology, political
theory, and cultural criticism. He has also been a committed public
intellectual in Germany since the early 1950s, when he publicly
challenged Heidegger to explain what he meant by the “inner truth and
greatness” of National Socialism—a claim Heidegger had made in 1935 in
his Introduction to Metaphysics, and which he left intact, without
alteration or explanation, in the 1953 reissue of the book.
Habermas does not closely identify with the Frankfurt School’s main
ideas, though he admits to being influenced by them in his early work
from the 1960s: “I started from the black-on-black of the older Critical
Theory, which had worked through experiences of fascism and Stalinism….
[But] our situation after 1945 was different.” Like members of the
Frankfurt School, Habermas initially regarded illusions about social and
economic relations engendered by late capitalist culture as an
impediment to individual and political autonomy. But he rejected Adorno
and Horkheimer’s argument about Enlightenment reasoning:
I do not share the basic premise of Critical Theory, the premise that
instrumental reason has gained such dominance that there is really no
way out of a total system of delusion, in which insight is achieved only
in flashes by isolated individuals.
In place of the pessimistic “negative dialectic” of the Frankfurt School
and its comparisons of capitalism with fascism, Habermas offers reasons
for hope. He foresees the possibility of a positive transformation of
capitalist society into a democratic society of “domination-free
communication” whose members are aware of and can publicly acknowledge
and accept the bases of their social relations and democratically decide
their own fate. These conditions, he writes, are essential to overcoming
the illusions caused by ideology.
For Habermas, the most distinctive feature of our species is not social
interaction through labor, as it was for Marx, but social interaction
through “discourse” and “communication.” He contends that mutual
understanding is the proper end of human discourse and the source of
solidarity in society. The task of critical theory is to discern the
formal conditions of ideal discourse that make possible communication
that is free from domination by any participant or anyone else, enabling
individuals to reach understanding of themselves and one another. Only
then can emancipation and autonomy be attained.
Habermas’s theory of communicative rationality and ideal discourse is,
as Jeffries remarks, more liberal than socialist. He remains critical of
capitalism, not because of markets, which he endorses,12 but rather
because of the concentration of ownership of capital and the distorting
effects of wealth on political democracy. Unlike the neo-Marxist members
of the Frankfurt School, Habermas rejects communism and advocates a
liberal democratic constitution, a market economy, and a social
democratic welfare state that protects workers’ rights of representation
and codetermination in corporate decisions.
A liberal constitutional order is also implicit in Habermas’s account of
the conditions of ideal discourse. It is a necessary condition of
rational communication and mutual understanding. In order to make
effective use of their liberties and engage in deliberative democratic
discourse, democratic citizens must be guaranteed equal basic rights and
liberties and have adequate resources.
As Jeffries observes, Habermas has developed the most elaborate and
systematic philosophical and social theory since Kant and Hegel. And as
John Rawls said to me, he is also the first major German philosopher
since Kant to endorse and conscientiously defend liberalism and
constitutional democracy. Therein lies much of Habermas’s historical
significance, especially in view of the rejection of democratic
liberalism by Hegel, Schopenhauer, Marx, Nietzsche, Heidegger, and most
of the Frankfurt School.
Before returning to Germany from California in 1949, Adorno and others
conducted a study published as The Authoritarian Personality (1950). Its
purpose was to identify a “new anthropological type” that was inclined
to identify with authoritarian leaders. A questionnaire designed to
measure and rank people by their fascist potential—the “F-scale”—was
developed and administered to 2,099 people. All were white, gentile,
middle-class Americans. Adorno describes the authoritarian personality
by referring to nine personality traits:
• Rigid adherence to conventional, middle-class values.
• Submissive, uncritical attitude toward idealised moral authorities of
the in-group.
• Opposition to the subjective, the imaginative, the tender-minded.
• Tendency to…condemn, reject, and punish people who violate
conventional values.
• The belief in mystical determinants of the individual’s fate….
• Preoccupation with the dominance- submission, strong-weak,
leader-follower dimension; identification with power figures….
• Generalised hostility, vilification of the human.
• The disposition to believe that wild and dangerous things go on in the
world; the projection outwards of unconscious emotional impulses.
• Exaggerated concern with sexual “goings-on.”
The F-scale was widely criticized for many shortcomings, including its
presumption that conservatism and authoritarianism were closely related.
Critics wondered why authoritarianism was not linked to communism and
suggested that a clearer contrast exists between liberal democracy and
totalitarianism on both the left and right. Though the Frankfurt School
strongly condemned Soviet totalitarianism, it did not do so to the same
degree as it condemned Nazism. This was partly because of members’
personal experiences as German Jews whose world had been obliterated by
fascism.
Jeffries adds that the Frankfurt School refused to lump together Soviet
totalitarianism and fascism and condemn both because they saw domination
of some form in all societies, including liberal capitalist ones. It is
this tendency of Adorno’s, Horkheimer’s, and Marcuse’s work to criticize
as fascist what we now consider ordinary—shopping and consumer society,
popular music and culture, radio and TV, advertising—that makes the
Frankfurt School seem most distant from modern liberal sensibilities. We
may sometimes lament capitalist excesses and be bothered by the
emptiness of consumerism, but few of us condemn capitalism as a moral
corruption of the self that prevents us from realizing true human values
or from knowing the truth about ourselves and our social relations.
Recent developments suggest, however, that the Frankfurt School’s
critique may have a new timeliness. The recent presidential election
used authoritarian tactics of misrepresentation and manipulation of
belief addressed to people who were particularly susceptible to such
methods; it resulted in the near-complete victory of a political party
that now combines a libertarian program of the privatization (if not
elimination) of many public functions and dominance by concentrated
capitalist wealth; and it put into office a president who is
deliberately divisive and has authoritarian inclinations, no apparent
respect for truth or for democratic institutions, and little
comprehension of or concern for the public good. However distant the
Frankfurt School’s indictment of capitalism’s alliance with
authoritarianism once seemed, its criticisms are not irrelevant now as
we face increasing nativism, unthinking trust in a demagogue and in
economic power, as well as antipathy to science and reasoned argument,
and eagerness to embrace a regime of disinformation and manipulation.
1
Other important members were Friedrich Pollock, Franz Neumann, Otto
Kirchheimer, the Marxist economist Henryk Grossman, and Leo Löwenthal,
who taught sociology at Berkeley until the late 1980s and was the last
member of the first generation of the Frankfurt School to die, in 1993. ↩
2
These were published in English in 1968 in a volume of Benjamin’s essays
entitled Illuminations, edited with a notable introduction by Hannah
Arendt. See also Mark Lilla’s “The Riddle of Walter Benjamin” in these
pages, May 25, 1995, which reviews Benjamin’s collected correspondence.
Lilla regrets Benjamin’s influence among postmodernists and argues that
they distort his real concerns. See also Charles Rosen’s review of
Benjamin’s The Origin of German Tragic Drama in these pages, November
10, 1977. ↩
3
There is some speculation, which Jeffries finds dubious, that Benjamin
was murdered by Stalin’s agents. See Edward Rothstein, “Connections: A
Daring Theory That Stalin Had Walter Benjamin Murdered,” The New York
Times, June 30, 2001. ↩
4
The sentence is inscribed on Benjamin’s gravestone in Port Bou. ↩
5
Adorno later spoke of “the basic principle of bourgeois subjectivity,
without which there could have been no Auschwitz.” ↩
6
Adorno also was a classical pianist, studied composition with Alban
Berg, composed atonal music, and wrote numerous essays on modernism in
art and music. Some of these (on Mahler, Schoenberg, and Zemlinsky,
among other subjects) make major contributions to the understanding of
modern music. See “Why Read Adorno?” by Roger Scruton in Understanding
Music: Philosophy and Interpretation (Continuum, 2009). But Adorno also
notoriously argued that jazz was suitable for fascism and “simply
glorifies oppression.” ↩
7
Gordon also explains how Adorno dismissed Sartre and the French
existentialists for their reliance on “the old idealist category of the
free act of the subject.” They allegedly ignore the cultural conditions
of “unfreedom” imposed on ostensibly free choice and the fact that we
are hopelessly immersed in false beliefs and values. Existentialists’
spontaneous acts of “unconditional freedom” are illusory. See Negative
Dialectics, p. 50. ↩
8
He denied the Oedipal complex and rejected Freud’s suggestion that there
can be no harmony between self and society. ↩
9
See George Lichtheim’s review in these pages, February 20, 1964, and an
exchange of letters between Georg H. Fromm, William Leiss, John David
Ober, Arno Waserman, Edward J. Wilkins, et al., and Lichtheim, March 19,
1964. ↩
10
Jeffries writes that “scepticism about humans defining and liberating
themselves through work was to become a hallmark of critical theory as
it evolved from the 1930s onward.” Adorno remarked, he notes, that Marx
wanted to turn the world into “a gigantic workhouse.” And Benjamin said
that the “vulgar-Marxist” conception of labor “already displays the
technocratic features later encountered in Fascism.” ↩
11
Adorno said, “bourgeois skepticism, of which relativism is the doctrinal
embodiment, is obtuse.” Moreover, “relativism…has at all times been
linked with moments of reaction, beginning with the sophists’
availability to the more powerful interests.” Negative Dialectics, p. 37. ↩
12
In his 1990 article “What Does Socialism Mean Today?,” Habermas says,
“the revolutionary changes taking place before our eyes teach us an
unambiguous lesson: complex societies are unable to reproduce themselves
if they do not leave the logic of an economy that regulates itself
through the market intact.” See New Left Review Vol. 183, No. 1
(September–October 1990). ↩
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