SCHEU: In Christianity, however, people achieve their triumph not in the perfect timing of death but in God, the
guarantor
of the triumph over death.
Sloterdijk - Selected Exaggerations
The left wing was powerful as long as its threats remained cred- ible.
At that time, when communism appeared as the real existing alternative, the Western workers’ parties didn’t have to do much to demonstrate to the employers’ side that social peace had its price, even in Germany.
Those times are over.
Today the left wing is threatened, not threatening.
Strategists define the threat as armed advice.
Today people on the left are disarmed and confused.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: If the left wing isn’t holding any trump cards, does that mean it’s superfluous?
SLOTERDIJK: In the last third of the twentieth century the whole of politics in the Western world imploded into the centre. At the same time the communist system imploded in Eastern Europe. Resentment has become increasingly diffuse since then. That is the hallmark of the post-communist situation: the left wing has stopped functioning as the collection point for rage. What is it supposed to canvass with now? I think it must shift its focus away from revenge campaigns and towards civilization campaigns. From fighting to learning.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: We understand immediately what you mean by ‘revenge campaigns’ – but what might left-wing civilization projects look like?
SLOTERDIJK: For instance, one could focus on the differences between religions. Why has Islam become so prominent in the post- communist situation? Because its activists have made an impression as potentially threatening factors. In my book I examined the ques- tion of whether Islam will succeed in becoming the third collection of rage after Catholicism and communism, and my answer is ‘No’.
206 Fathers Should Be Kept Out of Brothels and Pubs
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Why won’t it succeed?
SLOTERDIJK: Its assumptions are too regional. You can’t collect the resentment of jobless German or Polish people in an Islamic context. Of course, you can oppose modernity and you can retreat into Islam and build a stable existence there, but it can’t be constructed into a movement coming from the centre of moderniza- tion. It can’t promise a better modern age. That’s what communism succeeded in doing for a while.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: But to what extent are the differences of religions a project of the left?
SLOTERDIJK: If there is a world war today, it takes the form of a clash of monotheisms. Those antagonisms have to be civilized.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: That doesn’t sound really new. But hardly anyone is able to define exactly how that civilizing process should happen. What do you suggest?
SLOTERDIJK: For example, civilizing by reshaping religion through art. Thomas Mann gave an example of how this could happen in his fictional trilogy Joseph and His Brothers. The book shows how, thanks to contact with a foreign religion, the exclusive and bigoted form of monotheism was transformed into an inclusive religion based on art.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Could the left adopt that?
SLOTERDIJK: Not directly. First of all, this lesson concerns the parties in the conflict that have dogmas and positions, that manage a truth fund. But the post-communist left wing could tag on imme- diately afterward provided they have a sense that conflicts, friction and confrontation can be productive. Today, struggles are still the significant learning situations. We shouldn’t yield to any illusions. Today, even more than in Hegel’s times, humankind is condemned to auto-didacticism as a matter of life and death. War is the main school and anybody who doesn’t fight doesn’t learn either. No neutral teachers are available. The struggle itself must generate the rules, which go beyond the struggle.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Do you mean class struggle?
SLOTERDIJK: Well, good old class struggle was based on a precarious fantasy of victory: the proletariat had to gain complete control over the production process and that would end the antago- nism with capital. The Russian Revolution showed where that led: to genocide against the bourgeoisie perpetrated by the noble hangmen, the professional revolutionaries who appear as advocates of the proletariat. Today, we have moved away from that type of advocacy and prefer the idea of self-organization at grassroots level. Perhaps the model of advocacy or tribuneship could still make sense
Fathers Should Be Kept Out of Brothels and Pubs 207
in periods of mass misery. Now we are working with networking constructs and the assumption of self-organized units.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Are you sure this applies to all left-wing tendencies?
SLOTERDIJK: It certainly applies to the alternative rainbow culture. Maybe palaeo-Stalinists and old Maoist Party cadre wouldn’t feel at home in that diverse scene, but who cares? In Empire, Negri tried to combine palaeo-left and new left approaches, without convincing results. He just renamed the masses as the multitude and created a new fetish – the rainbow as the alternative proletariat.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Multitude as the formula for excuses?
SLOTERDIJK: I would look at it differently. First, Negri is only doing what left-wing radicals chronically do. He is continuing the quest for the subject of the revolution. But two ideas are hampering him: first, the subject is not one, but many. He can live with that for the moment. In addition, it turns out that revolution is an obsolete concept because the process of capital and the empire are always more revolutionary than their opponents. On this point, too, Negri acts as if he could live with this knowledge, but in fact it cancels out his position. He has to be content with the appearance of keeping up with the times by updating Marx’s hymn to the revolutionary power of the bourgeois class.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: There is a slight hitch: the bourgeoisie didn’t and doesn’t want to make a revolution.
SLOTERDIJK: In fact, they did – because there are two types of revolution, the erotic revolution of the bourgeoisie, which is driven by greed, and the thymotic revolution of the poor, which only func- tions if it continues to be driven by pride. Marx had his reasons for celebrating the revolution of greed very vigorously and simul- taneously claiming it was not enough. For the left-wing revolution is made not in the name of greed, but of pride and its two moral derivatives, rage and outrage. The goal of such a revolution was to provide the denigrated and insulted with dignity as subjects. Those are movements of empowerment, and the leitmotif of the proletar- ian thymos runs through them: dignity through labour! Dignity through struggle! But as soon as the left wing becomes, in turn, a greed party, as is happening everywhere in Germany, it implodes and becomes part of the total centre.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: That would bring us back to student protests and burning cars in the banlieus. In the end is it really about future opportunities, about demands for work?
SLOTERDIJK: I’m not sure. If we rely on the protagonists’ descriptions, in the banlieus it was mostly about a form of rioting
208 Fathers Should Be Kept Out of Brothels and Pubs
as fun in the context of a dreadful lack of social prospects. Thanks to copycat contagion, the TV pictures launched a wave of violent games – car burning with the aid of a popular issue of Molotov cocktails, with 1,500 scenes of fires in one night.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Is it about attention-getting for the offended?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, but not in the sense of demands for dignity because that would involve a project requiring long-term patience. It was more about immediate gratification for a spectacle of vandal- ism. This is a case where the modern media are guilty of alliances with the worst tendencies. It is always the most disgusting actions that get rewarded with the biggest attention bonuses.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: What should a civilized left wing do to change this system of incentives?
SLOTERDIJK: The only solution would be to integrate the mar- ginalized people into a meaningful process of economic ownership.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: In other words, jobs for all?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, but not in the sense of permanent employ- ment for life. We have to make fighters into entrepreneurs – it’s the same energy. The effects of satisfaction come either when positions are available in the world of work or people create positions for themselves on a ladder of ambition.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Do we have to get children off the street?
SLOTERDIJK: Of course, children should be kept off the street and fathers should be kept out of brothels and pubs. This is best done with extensive job creation schemes, and the economy of own- ership is still the best way to create jobs.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: How do you want to tell that to the losers in this society? Support and demand, or something like that?
SLOTERDIJK: In structural terms, we only have three forms of existence: entrepreneur, worker and unemployed. An effective dif- ference only exists among the unemployed: some become passive while the others become fighters. When resentment meets lust for battle, the activists easily slip into the proto-fascist position. Civil war also creates positions. To paraphrase a saying of Thomas Hobbes, not only war has given everything to every man but civil war has, as well. If we want to leave out these variants, the only thing left is the entrepreneurial alternative.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: You are presupposing something: sover- eign subjects responsible for their own actions.
SLOTERDIJK: The main precondition is that we see unemploy- ment neutrally. To begin with it is merely the expression of two highly desirable developments – first, that wage labour isn’t the most important part of life any longer, and, second, that people are
Fathers Should Be Kept Out of Brothels and Pubs 209
freed from jobs that are better done by machines. In this respect the reduction of work is good news. The left should have cultivated this viewpoint as its civilizing mission. The substitution of machines for men is something absolutely worth affirming, and so is the reduction of labour time by a third within 200 years, that is, by around 1,700 working hours per year. What we should develop is a strong cul- tural and educational concept for the people liberated from work, combined with the formation of free communities in which people can mutually stimulate and enrich each other, including outside the world of work.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: So you don’t believe that monetary wealth leads to social peace?
SLOTERDIJK: It only satisfies those who have it. Capitalism operates on the premise that peace on earth comes when everybody is turned into a consumer. At most that is a dangerous half-truth. Part of the civilizing project is that we don’t see people only as crea- tures at the feeding trough, but also as beings that want dignity.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Is that where religion comes in again?
SLOTERDIJK: In the foreseeable future religions will continue to be part of the problem rather than the solution. If there were a world spirit it would probably be warning us that the civilizing way is the only one still open. In fact, two structural complexes stand facing each other on the great stage and they are totally out of balance internally. One is an over-eroticized West devastated by greed, and the other is an over-thymoticized Middle East devastated by resentment. Unless they are brought into balance again, global self-destruction is on the agenda on both sides.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: You don’t sound really worried. Are you optimistic?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, actually. But contrary to my initial feeling, I have learned to hope at the second attempt. If you have a fair amount of luck you can’t keep on pushing pessimistic positions. In fact, there are also intellectual reasons for moderate optimism.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: What makes you optimistic?
SLOTERDIJK: Some of the thought constructs developed by Herder, Hegel and Whitehead can be reformulated to create resil- ient optimism about processes. In a dense world – and density is the main characteristic of our form of world – the autodidactic tension increases. We can see the side effects of actions catching up with us faster and faster. Where fate was, there will be feedback. Humankind is an infernal conscious-raising group whose members put so much pressure on each other that they will probably be able to work out a halfway liveable code of behaviour in the present century.
210 Fathers Should Be Kept Out of Brothels and Pubs
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Is that your version of the opposite of waiting for a new revolutionary leader?
SLOTERDIJK: ‘Revolution’ and ‘leader’ are compromised con- cepts. The model process I have in mind has more to do with a new version of Adam Smith’s argument of the invisible hand. Although it seems very naïve, in reality it offers a complex idea in anticipa- tion of cybernetics and chaos theory. If we set chaos theorists and cyberneticists to work on social evolution, after calculating all the obtainable variables they will conclude that, whatever the condi- tions, we can expect something better than the ultimate meltdown. Optimism as minimalism. With this information we can carry on working.
25
THE ATHLETICS OF DYING Interview with René Scheu*1
SCHEU: Mr Sloterdijk, are you afraid of death?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, I am, and the reason is that I came close to it at a very early age. In a certain sense that is where I come from. If I didn’t have any idea of death I would probably act like the French captain La Palisse whom Albert Camus refers to in The Myth of Sisyphus. This officer was renowned for his fearlessness, his thoughtlessness, in fact. The soldiers wrote a song celebrating this: ‘A quarter of an hour before his death / he was still alive. ’ From a philosophical perspective, this highlights an interesting position: there is life over which death does not cast a shadow.
SCHEU: An unconscious life? Philosophers don’t usually appre- ciate that.
SLOTERDIJK: Perhaps because modern philosophers are so fixated on existence and its mortality that they find it difficult to imagine life with a purely expansive dynamic. But even if they lack the ability to do so, it doesn’t mean that type of life doesn’t exist – a life without blockages, without reflection, without exaggerated self-absorption and, above all, without the engram of a near-death experience.
SCHEU: Did you have to confront the possibility of death early on?
SLOTERDIJK: You could say I began as a dead person. It was
* This interview between Peter Sloterdijk and René Scheu appeared under the title ‘Die Athletik der Sterbens’, in Schweizer Monatshefte 6 (2007): 34–9.
At the time of the interview René Scheu was editor-in-chief and publisher of the magazine Schweizer Monat.
212 The Athletics of Dying
a complicated birth. My parents were Rhesus-incompatible, and that’s sufficient for starting off as a near-dead person. I developed severe jaundice immediately after I was born, which led people who saw me to comment that blue eyes look particularly good with yellow skin. To be honest, I didn’t see it as an aesthetic privilege. From the first moment of my life I was already reminded of its end. When the beginning evokes the end it makes a starting point that colours everything.
SCHEU: In dark colours?
SLOTERDIJK: It was a dark beginning, but it was followed by brighter intervals that kept getting larger. These clearings have meant most to me as a philosopher. Incidentally, Emil Cioran used a similar trope in one of his darkest books, The Trouble with Being Born, where he says: ‘We do not rush toward death,’ but ‘We flee the catastrophe of birth. ’
SCHEU: You have spoken of the possibility of a life in which death casts no shadow. Isn’t that merely the fantasy of a philoso- pher whose birth was a death agony?
SLOTERDIJK: We have to distinguish between death and dying. In the end, nobody can know death – anybody who knows it is already beyond all knowing. We simply observe its protocol, its attendant circumstances, at most the process of annihilation, from the internal perspective up to the critical boundary. Dying has a claustrophobic dimension that is difficult to overestimate. The Romantics suppressed it by always emphasizing the agoraphiliac dimensions of dying: everything becomes big, beautiful and open, you stand on a field of blooms in May, you have more space than you ever had and you fill it with your soul. The truth is, in the death agony, space becomes narrower; you have no place any more, either in this world or in this time. The feeling of a choking point like that is the most unbearable thing imaginable.
SCHEU: Is a life without relation to death really a life worth living? Or would it be something like the infinite extension of thoughtlessness?
SLOTERDIJK: It would be worth living – I use the conjunctive because I personally feel different about this. Yet I can definitely imagine a life like that. Making appreciation of life dependent on its inner relation to death is an old European quirk. Life also exists with its very own intensity and wakefulness, without morbidity and backlog, and without interest in what is beyond death, even without the need for reunion in the world beyond with loved ones who have died. If we look at our concept of life in relation to the Hindu her- meneutics of death, for example, we become startlingly aware of our dependence on our own history and culture. In the Hindu concept,
The Athletics of Dying 213
the wish is to be delivered from life and released from the wheel of rebirth. In Western culture, by contrast, dreams of reunion are a major source of thanatological fantasies. By the way, it seems to me that in constructing ideas of the world beyond, the fear of negative encounters has been just as powerful as the positive dimension . . .
SCHEU: We want to live forever but are afraid to meet really nasty people in the hereafter . . .
SLOTERDIJK: Then let’s rather live forever on earth. That would be the conclusion of a thanatological explanation of the will to life. The fear of meeting people we hate in the nether world has roused some people’s hopes that there is absolutely no hereafter. People never give up hoping that heaven may be a labyrinth in which the inhabitants lose their way. That reminds me of a popular joke. St Peter is taking a new arrival around heaven and shows him the different sections: the Jews here, the Muslims there, and the Hindus on the other side. At the end of the tour, he points to a grim- faced group behind a wall and says, ‘Hush, those are the Catholics. They think they’re alone here. ’
SCHEU: We can see something like the birth of real life from the spirit of consciousness of death, not only in Western philosophy but also in our popular fantasies – look at Hollywood. Which cultural influences do you think are responsible for this?
SLOTERDIJK: A strong heroic-athletic pathos developed in Greek culture and extended to all areas of life. Since then life has meant being in good form and our greatest hope is a chance to die at our peak. That is the hidden message of the Iliad. The two strongest warriors on the plain of Troy, Hector and Achilles, depart this life at the right moment. They both escape an existence after their best form.
SCHEU: In Christianity, however, people achieve their triumph not in the perfect timing of death but in God, the guarantor of the triumph over death.
SLOTERDIJK: Our modern consciousness of death is indeed a secular relic of the Catholic memento mori culture. If you will allow me a brief digression into philosophical history about an author who combined both the Greek and Christian legacies . . .
SCHEU: Go ahead . . .
SLOTERDIJK: It is interesting that Martin Heidegger, who was a former acolyte, was at his least Catholic at the time when he spoke most about death. This radical communion with oneself, death not only as one’s own possibility but superlatively enhanced as the ‘most deeply personal possibility’, as the possibility of impossibility, to some extent as the anticipation of the Last Judgement in one’s own soul, was also fascinating for the Protestants of the 1920s. As
214 The Athletics of Dying
a result they believed – wrongly – that Heidegger was their man. Heidegger’s idea culminated in something extremely un-Christian: the heroic appropriation of one’s own death. In Christianity, on the other hand, death was celebrated as casting off the trappings of life, as relinquishing any form of property rights. Heidegger made dying into a borderline case of skill, an appropriation of expropria- tion. This leads, of course, to a heroic attitude that fitted the general political situation of military nationalism between the two world wars.
SCHEU: But the Christian attitude towards death seems more ambiguous to me than you have depicted it so far. Christianity heroized death as well.
SLOTERDIJK: That’s quite correct. In the accounts of Matthew, Mark and Luke, the Messiah dies on the cross in a pose of extreme self-sacrifice, and the expropriation he suffers is emphasized with great clarity, whereas, strangely enough, in the Gospel according to St John, there is an athletic conclusion in the phrase the Redeemer uttered on the cross: ‘It is finished. ’ This statement is typical of the Hellenization of Christianity. The man on the cross becomes like an athlete who raises his arms at the moment he crosses the finish- ing line. (At this point Sloterdijk fetches the Novum Testamentum Graece et Latine and checks the relevant text. ) ‘Tetelestai’, ‘con- summatum est’: it sounds as if Jesus is summing up his own dying performance at the moment he arrives at his goal.
SCHEU: To be able to die, the facility of death – are you saying that the techniques you call ‘anthropotechnics’ in your books, the techniques of self-domestication of humans, are ultimately directed towards overcoming death? Thanks to genetic engineering, will death soon become an option: the only people who must die are those who want to?
SLOTERDIJK: Modern technology undoubtedly has an inner teleology. If we want to understand it, we have to go beyond the usual perception of technology as an extension of our bodily organs. Organ extensions are also dream or fantasy extensions. There is nothing in the results of technology that was not previously con- tained in metaphysics; and there is nothing in metaphysics that was not previously contained in magic. In other words, there is a line from magic to technology, and we have to ask what the magical and the bio-technological disposition of consciousness have in common.
SCHEU: And what would be the answer?
SLOTERDIJK: Probably that we can see magical thought expressed in the most up-to-date technologies. Magical thought starts from the assumption that there is no natural death. Death is always the result of an occult scandal . . .
The Athletics of Dying 215
SCHEU: Scandal?
SLOTERDIJK: Something evil, a dirty trick, manipulation. Death is a result of external machinations that can be attributed to evil actors. People wouldn’t die if there weren’t somebody who meant harm to them. From this perspective, the naturalization of death is a remarkable achievement of higher metaphysics. It understands nature as a neutral force for order that is powerful enough to put even death in its place. Incidentally, any modern neurotic person would agree with the magical idea that there is no natural death. He knows that unfortunately he is living under one roof with his murderer – his own body. The lung, that old devil! I know exactly what it’s planning. It will murder me one day – but it shouldn’t think I’m going to give up smoking just to please it! Or the prostate, the projected time bomb in the male body that could have been invented by the nastiest feminists. The domestication of death is the greatest cultural achievement of metaphysical thought. It has taken over from the original paranoia. Today this function has been delegated to medicine.
SCHEU: The first human being will be cloned some time in the near future. Do you see a danger in human genetics?
SLOTERDIJK: Keep calm. The domesticating forces that were constructed around these technologies are so great that it would be absurd to assume some crazy despot could seize control of the world using an army of biological robots.
SCHEU: When humans interfere with their genetic make-up it can sometimes have irreversible consequences. For example, they could decide on specific characteristics that would deprive them of their natural openness.
SLOTERDIJK: Agreed. But we have long since been familiar with this problem in another form. It is good old alienation. To a great extent, human living conditions are nothing more than large- scale attacks on the openness of the world. The traditional victims of these attacks are farmers and proletarians – or, at least, that is how critical social theory has portrayed these groups. For thousands of years, they have been deprived of the possibility of living up to their real potential. In short, that humans undercut other humans is a his- torical finding that has troubled class societies from way back when.
SCHEU: That sounds as if you believe in a classless society in which everybody can achieve his or her potential.
SLOTERDIJK: No. The only reason I don’t believe in that is because many people reject openness. This is what all those who criticized exploitation in the name of justice refused to see. If people choose alienation they shouldn’t be forced into liberation.
SCHEU: Does that mean there will be two kinds of people in
216 The Athletics of Dying
the future: those who are for openness and those who vote for bio- technological alienation?
SLOTERDIJK: That’s possible, but I don’t think that’s the decisive question. I would like to refer to the issue of a life liberated by death in its present bio-technological form. In other words, the discussion about the gene for longevity. The first big fraud case in the still young history of human bio-technology concerned precisely this object. The Korean researcher Hwang Woo-suk was supposed to have achieved sensational findings related to this gene. A whole battalion of scientists in California worked on the decoding of the longevity gene, which people obviously believed to exist. The tech- nology prophet Ray Kurzweil described the present as the moment just before the breakthrough to immortality. The idea was: keep going, just don’t slack. The slogan was: ‘Live long enough to live forever! ’ Now let’s assume a scenario in which all human beings can soon live for 150 or 200 years. We would have exactly the situation we discussed earlier. Death would no longer be a natural end. Instead, it would always be left to the discretion of individu- als themselves or an external agent. Where there was once death, there will be murder or suicide. Stone Age logic turns out to be right.
SCHEU: Would you describe these techno-biological imaginings as naïve but not reprehensible?
SLOTERDIJK: The childishness of the belief in a very long life, what we call eternal life, is rather touching. But we Europeans have ourselves to blame. We should never have let the people who later became Americans go. It was clear that they moved away to be able to dream in peace somewhere else. Now we have to deal with their flights of fancy.
SCHEU: You argue in your books for collaboration between humans and technology. You say there is nothing a priori wrong with people acquiring technical equipment and engaging in biologi- cal optimization and digital networking.
SLOTERDIJK: My technicism, or support for technology, is part of my blueprint for General Immunology. It mainly concerns what I call the ‘incubator system’. We must look at human history as a series of attempts to optimize the human incubator. After all, we have been incubator creatures since the earliest times. That is why Homo sapiens was made into a hybrid from the beginning. Humans first became the exceptional beings they are as part of a long, unconscious self-breeding sequence, and this experiment has always taken place in an incubator facilitated by the use of tools. Today we are slowly realizing this – and it would be naïve, if not reactionary, to refuse to acknowledge it.
The Athletics of Dying 217
SCHEU: What once occurred unconsciously is now coming close to conscious manipulation.
SLOTERDIJK: That’s right. That’s why I think there should be an absolute ban on fraudulent claims in relation to human bio- technology. Only what can be done with high precision is ethically responsible. But if people could really be trusted to do what they must be able to do, for example, to eliminate certain dreadful forms of inherited pathologies, they wouldn’t be infringing any human rights. There is no human obligation to be ill! I would strongly advocate a second Hippocratic oath. Doctors should pledge not only to benefit health as such but also to benefit the conditions of the possibility of health. Anyone infringing this, by neglecting research, for instance, would be guilty of denial of assistance.
SCHEU: You have made yourself very unpopular in Germany with statements like that.
SLOTERDIJK: In this country people are quick to label you as an ogre. Fortunately, the Swiss have a more pragmatic attitude.
26
DO YOUR DUTY TO ENJOY! Interview with Christoph Bopp*1
BOPP: Professor Sloterdijk, how do philosophers express themselves nowadays? I remember reading the word ‘explication’ somewhere, but I think you’re not an analytical philosopher con- cerned with the meaning of words. What defines a philosophical author now?
SLOTERDIJK: You’re starting right at the beginning with ques- tions that should be left until the end! The rules say you should start by asking things like: what do you think about the fact that autumn is coming? Or: what is your relationship to Switzerland? But you want to know fundamental things immediately and if I gave the right answers you would only be able to respond with enlightened silence.
BOPP: Let’s avoid that. However, a journalist can hope for indulgence if he starts head on. Given the scope of your work, he is certainly at risk of asking about things he should really have known. And if you pose the question of the author’s self-image you can be fairly sure that it has already been answered, at least indirectly.
SLOTERDIJK: So how does the author see himself? Seeing oneself as an author is a statement with its own implications. Most people can’t or don’t want to claim authorship. I can only do it myself by looking back at a life trajectory marked by around thirty occasions on which my books first entered the public arena. With a
* This interview between Peter Sloterdijk and Christoph Bopp appeared under the title ‘Der neue Kategorische Imperativ: “Erfülle deine Genießerpflicht! ”’, in <litart. twoday. net/files/Peter-Sloterdijk-/>
Christoph Bopp is a Swiss journalist.
Do Your Duty To Enjoy! 219
long track record like that you can hardly deny you are an author – even if your career was affected by a trend that ran through the cultural superstructure in the 1970s. At that time people used to talk seriously about a sad event called the ‘death of the author’.
BOPP: Well, by now the subject is already dead philosophically as well.
SLOTERDIJK: Its wretched end is part of the same wave of declarations of death. Yet the subject is still around, haunting, very much alive, just like the ghostly ‘author’. Take my own specific case: how can a dead man write thirty books? At which desk could he have done that?
BOPP: Anyway, you coined the phrase ‘thinker on stage’ for Nietzsche.
SLOTERDIJK: That expression contains part of my author theory. I described Nietzsche as a thinker who not only performed like an actor on stage but actually also saw his psyche as a stage on which rival ‘artistic drives’ duelled with each other. He offered his own self to these drives as a theatrum belli and let the conflicting energies fight each other. This is an image I was able to adapt for household use. We shouldn’t envisage the author as a river flowing calmly and untroubled from source to estuary. True, there are states of fluidity, but the clashes are more important for production. The author is actually a moderator of the partial energies at work inside him, and his writing oversees the collisions.
BOPP: Does he describe them like an accident reporter?
SLOTERDIJK: He looks into his inner self and reports which corpses are lying on the street again today.
BOPP: In your book, Rage and Time, whose title alludes to Heidegger’s Being and Time, you casually remarked that Heidegger was not the kind of author who – to quote Nietzsche again – would have been able to deal with such ‘dangerous truths’. Do you mean Heidegger would have sidestepped such clashes or avoided them?
SLOTERDIJK: To avert any possible misunderstanding: Heidegger made an enormous contribution to contemporary phi- losophy. I was a follower of Critical Theory, however, and that means I was only able to concentrate on Heidegger after my return from India, after 1980. He had previously been regarded as a non- person in our circles and was buried under an obscure taboo. That’s why I only discovered later what he had to offer – for example, a very inspiring theory of moods [Stimmungen]. This involves pre- logical shades of Dasein that precede all individual cognitions. Such gains in the scope of philosophical discourse are significant because they help to correct the over-exaggerated rationalism of tradition. They allow philosophy to connect up with a large variety
220 Do Your Duty To Enjoy!
of life experiences that were previously inaccessible to philosophical discourse.
BOPP: But aren’t you very critical of Heidegger in Rage and Time?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, I try to show that the founding of histori- cal time – in fact, ‘historicity’ is one of the pathos-imbued words Heidegger used in his youth and middle period – didn’t occur in the way he imagined it. We do not receive either a ‘call of Being’ or a ‘call of care’. Instead, great history arises through the memory of injustice and the process of resentment. When the sediment of unprocessed and unrequited experience of suffering forms in human memories, a history-making mechanism goes into motion, a sort of ‘causality of fate’, as the early observers of tragic events described it. The effect is that the consequences of an evil deed reappear at a later time in another place.
BOPP: The timespan stretches from the suffered and remembered injustice to its retribution.
SLOTERDIJK: That’s right. We can’t comprehend the original process of the founding of time at all without investigating those feelings of setback and the transactions for reparation. At this point a gap opens up in Heidegger’s studies, and I tried to close it in Rage and Time. In doing so, I couldn’t avoid moving Heidegger closer to Nietzsche again. The latter broached the major moral topic of the epoch in the twentieth century with his theory of resentments. But aside from Max Scheler’s contributions,1 there was hardly any advance in the area of resentment analysis after Nietzsche’s great intervention. It was high time to take a new approach to the phe- nomenon in the light of our experiences with the gigantic conflicts in the twentieth century. If we don’t show how resentment could become the primary historical power in it, the whole epoch remains obscure.
BOPP: That seems to me not just a type of analysis, but also a totally different perspective on history. It means no longer looking at it as development, as an unfolding process. We can’t explain any more how something became but, rather, in retrospect, we can see stages and events happen that become realized to some extent and become, in turn, the seeds for further realizations.
SLOTERDIJK: We should be mindful here of the synergy between involuntary and voluntary memory. The phenomenon of
1 Max Scheler (1874–1928) was a German philosopher, psychologist, soci- ologist and anthropologist. He is known as the founder of philosophical anthropology.
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resentment itself is composed of moments of voluntary and invol- untary memory. Europeans were able to observe this recently in the remarkable process of the break-up of Yugoslavia. At that time Miloševic preached the myth of lordly defeat to the Serbs. In his infamous speech at the Gazemistan memorial on the 600th anniver- sary of the Battle of Kosovo in 1389, he said that the more the Serbs had lost back then, the more they had won since. That was a sort of admission of failure of all histories fuelled by resentment: ‘We’ – whoever he actually meant by that, but in any case ‘a collective of chosen losers’ –
BOPP: ‘We’ have entered history . . .
SLOTERDIJK: I have speculatively deduced far-reaching con- sequences from those kinds of ‘entries’. I proposed describing the historical collective that is generally called ‘peoples’ or, more recently, ‘nations’, as groups processing resentment that put them- selves under stress by remembrance of collectively experienced traumata. For most people, those traumata are something inherited from far away, something they could certainly not have suffered themselves. As an individual, I can’t remember humiliation inflicted 600 years ago, but somehow I acquire joint ownership of this trauma.
BOPP: Identities that already carry the seed of violence within them to some extent. . . .
SLOTERDIJK: After the Second World War the Germans showed in an exemplary fashion that there is an alternative way out of humiliation. They have worked on their trauma so intensively that they have completely broken out of the repetition compulsion. In the truest sense of the expression, they have become a different nation.
BOPP: You spoke earlier of ‘ownership of a trauma’, and you also work with economic metaphors in Rage and Time.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: If the left wing isn’t holding any trump cards, does that mean it’s superfluous?
SLOTERDIJK: In the last third of the twentieth century the whole of politics in the Western world imploded into the centre. At the same time the communist system imploded in Eastern Europe. Resentment has become increasingly diffuse since then. That is the hallmark of the post-communist situation: the left wing has stopped functioning as the collection point for rage. What is it supposed to canvass with now? I think it must shift its focus away from revenge campaigns and towards civilization campaigns. From fighting to learning.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: We understand immediately what you mean by ‘revenge campaigns’ – but what might left-wing civilization projects look like?
SLOTERDIJK: For instance, one could focus on the differences between religions. Why has Islam become so prominent in the post- communist situation? Because its activists have made an impression as potentially threatening factors. In my book I examined the ques- tion of whether Islam will succeed in becoming the third collection of rage after Catholicism and communism, and my answer is ‘No’.
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FEDDERSEN/LANG: Why won’t it succeed?
SLOTERDIJK: Its assumptions are too regional. You can’t collect the resentment of jobless German or Polish people in an Islamic context. Of course, you can oppose modernity and you can retreat into Islam and build a stable existence there, but it can’t be constructed into a movement coming from the centre of moderniza- tion. It can’t promise a better modern age. That’s what communism succeeded in doing for a while.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: But to what extent are the differences of religions a project of the left?
SLOTERDIJK: If there is a world war today, it takes the form of a clash of monotheisms. Those antagonisms have to be civilized.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: That doesn’t sound really new. But hardly anyone is able to define exactly how that civilizing process should happen. What do you suggest?
SLOTERDIJK: For example, civilizing by reshaping religion through art. Thomas Mann gave an example of how this could happen in his fictional trilogy Joseph and His Brothers. The book shows how, thanks to contact with a foreign religion, the exclusive and bigoted form of monotheism was transformed into an inclusive religion based on art.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Could the left adopt that?
SLOTERDIJK: Not directly. First of all, this lesson concerns the parties in the conflict that have dogmas and positions, that manage a truth fund. But the post-communist left wing could tag on imme- diately afterward provided they have a sense that conflicts, friction and confrontation can be productive. Today, struggles are still the significant learning situations. We shouldn’t yield to any illusions. Today, even more than in Hegel’s times, humankind is condemned to auto-didacticism as a matter of life and death. War is the main school and anybody who doesn’t fight doesn’t learn either. No neutral teachers are available. The struggle itself must generate the rules, which go beyond the struggle.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Do you mean class struggle?
SLOTERDIJK: Well, good old class struggle was based on a precarious fantasy of victory: the proletariat had to gain complete control over the production process and that would end the antago- nism with capital. The Russian Revolution showed where that led: to genocide against the bourgeoisie perpetrated by the noble hangmen, the professional revolutionaries who appear as advocates of the proletariat. Today, we have moved away from that type of advocacy and prefer the idea of self-organization at grassroots level. Perhaps the model of advocacy or tribuneship could still make sense
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in periods of mass misery. Now we are working with networking constructs and the assumption of self-organized units.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Are you sure this applies to all left-wing tendencies?
SLOTERDIJK: It certainly applies to the alternative rainbow culture. Maybe palaeo-Stalinists and old Maoist Party cadre wouldn’t feel at home in that diverse scene, but who cares? In Empire, Negri tried to combine palaeo-left and new left approaches, without convincing results. He just renamed the masses as the multitude and created a new fetish – the rainbow as the alternative proletariat.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Multitude as the formula for excuses?
SLOTERDIJK: I would look at it differently. First, Negri is only doing what left-wing radicals chronically do. He is continuing the quest for the subject of the revolution. But two ideas are hampering him: first, the subject is not one, but many. He can live with that for the moment. In addition, it turns out that revolution is an obsolete concept because the process of capital and the empire are always more revolutionary than their opponents. On this point, too, Negri acts as if he could live with this knowledge, but in fact it cancels out his position. He has to be content with the appearance of keeping up with the times by updating Marx’s hymn to the revolutionary power of the bourgeois class.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: There is a slight hitch: the bourgeoisie didn’t and doesn’t want to make a revolution.
SLOTERDIJK: In fact, they did – because there are two types of revolution, the erotic revolution of the bourgeoisie, which is driven by greed, and the thymotic revolution of the poor, which only func- tions if it continues to be driven by pride. Marx had his reasons for celebrating the revolution of greed very vigorously and simul- taneously claiming it was not enough. For the left-wing revolution is made not in the name of greed, but of pride and its two moral derivatives, rage and outrage. The goal of such a revolution was to provide the denigrated and insulted with dignity as subjects. Those are movements of empowerment, and the leitmotif of the proletar- ian thymos runs through them: dignity through labour! Dignity through struggle! But as soon as the left wing becomes, in turn, a greed party, as is happening everywhere in Germany, it implodes and becomes part of the total centre.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: That would bring us back to student protests and burning cars in the banlieus. In the end is it really about future opportunities, about demands for work?
SLOTERDIJK: I’m not sure. If we rely on the protagonists’ descriptions, in the banlieus it was mostly about a form of rioting
208 Fathers Should Be Kept Out of Brothels and Pubs
as fun in the context of a dreadful lack of social prospects. Thanks to copycat contagion, the TV pictures launched a wave of violent games – car burning with the aid of a popular issue of Molotov cocktails, with 1,500 scenes of fires in one night.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Is it about attention-getting for the offended?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, but not in the sense of demands for dignity because that would involve a project requiring long-term patience. It was more about immediate gratification for a spectacle of vandal- ism. This is a case where the modern media are guilty of alliances with the worst tendencies. It is always the most disgusting actions that get rewarded with the biggest attention bonuses.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: What should a civilized left wing do to change this system of incentives?
SLOTERDIJK: The only solution would be to integrate the mar- ginalized people into a meaningful process of economic ownership.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: In other words, jobs for all?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, but not in the sense of permanent employ- ment for life. We have to make fighters into entrepreneurs – it’s the same energy. The effects of satisfaction come either when positions are available in the world of work or people create positions for themselves on a ladder of ambition.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Do we have to get children off the street?
SLOTERDIJK: Of course, children should be kept off the street and fathers should be kept out of brothels and pubs. This is best done with extensive job creation schemes, and the economy of own- ership is still the best way to create jobs.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: How do you want to tell that to the losers in this society? Support and demand, or something like that?
SLOTERDIJK: In structural terms, we only have three forms of existence: entrepreneur, worker and unemployed. An effective dif- ference only exists among the unemployed: some become passive while the others become fighters. When resentment meets lust for battle, the activists easily slip into the proto-fascist position. Civil war also creates positions. To paraphrase a saying of Thomas Hobbes, not only war has given everything to every man but civil war has, as well. If we want to leave out these variants, the only thing left is the entrepreneurial alternative.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: You are presupposing something: sover- eign subjects responsible for their own actions.
SLOTERDIJK: The main precondition is that we see unemploy- ment neutrally. To begin with it is merely the expression of two highly desirable developments – first, that wage labour isn’t the most important part of life any longer, and, second, that people are
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freed from jobs that are better done by machines. In this respect the reduction of work is good news. The left should have cultivated this viewpoint as its civilizing mission. The substitution of machines for men is something absolutely worth affirming, and so is the reduction of labour time by a third within 200 years, that is, by around 1,700 working hours per year. What we should develop is a strong cul- tural and educational concept for the people liberated from work, combined with the formation of free communities in which people can mutually stimulate and enrich each other, including outside the world of work.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: So you don’t believe that monetary wealth leads to social peace?
SLOTERDIJK: It only satisfies those who have it. Capitalism operates on the premise that peace on earth comes when everybody is turned into a consumer. At most that is a dangerous half-truth. Part of the civilizing project is that we don’t see people only as crea- tures at the feeding trough, but also as beings that want dignity.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: Is that where religion comes in again?
SLOTERDIJK: In the foreseeable future religions will continue to be part of the problem rather than the solution. If there were a world spirit it would probably be warning us that the civilizing way is the only one still open. In fact, two structural complexes stand facing each other on the great stage and they are totally out of balance internally. One is an over-eroticized West devastated by greed, and the other is an over-thymoticized Middle East devastated by resentment. Unless they are brought into balance again, global self-destruction is on the agenda on both sides.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: You don’t sound really worried. Are you optimistic?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, actually. But contrary to my initial feeling, I have learned to hope at the second attempt. If you have a fair amount of luck you can’t keep on pushing pessimistic positions. In fact, there are also intellectual reasons for moderate optimism.
FEDDERSEN/LANG: What makes you optimistic?
SLOTERDIJK: Some of the thought constructs developed by Herder, Hegel and Whitehead can be reformulated to create resil- ient optimism about processes. In a dense world – and density is the main characteristic of our form of world – the autodidactic tension increases. We can see the side effects of actions catching up with us faster and faster. Where fate was, there will be feedback. Humankind is an infernal conscious-raising group whose members put so much pressure on each other that they will probably be able to work out a halfway liveable code of behaviour in the present century.
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FEDDERSEN/LANG: Is that your version of the opposite of waiting for a new revolutionary leader?
SLOTERDIJK: ‘Revolution’ and ‘leader’ are compromised con- cepts. The model process I have in mind has more to do with a new version of Adam Smith’s argument of the invisible hand. Although it seems very naïve, in reality it offers a complex idea in anticipa- tion of cybernetics and chaos theory. If we set chaos theorists and cyberneticists to work on social evolution, after calculating all the obtainable variables they will conclude that, whatever the condi- tions, we can expect something better than the ultimate meltdown. Optimism as minimalism. With this information we can carry on working.
25
THE ATHLETICS OF DYING Interview with René Scheu*1
SCHEU: Mr Sloterdijk, are you afraid of death?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, I am, and the reason is that I came close to it at a very early age. In a certain sense that is where I come from. If I didn’t have any idea of death I would probably act like the French captain La Palisse whom Albert Camus refers to in The Myth of Sisyphus. This officer was renowned for his fearlessness, his thoughtlessness, in fact. The soldiers wrote a song celebrating this: ‘A quarter of an hour before his death / he was still alive. ’ From a philosophical perspective, this highlights an interesting position: there is life over which death does not cast a shadow.
SCHEU: An unconscious life? Philosophers don’t usually appre- ciate that.
SLOTERDIJK: Perhaps because modern philosophers are so fixated on existence and its mortality that they find it difficult to imagine life with a purely expansive dynamic. But even if they lack the ability to do so, it doesn’t mean that type of life doesn’t exist – a life without blockages, without reflection, without exaggerated self-absorption and, above all, without the engram of a near-death experience.
SCHEU: Did you have to confront the possibility of death early on?
SLOTERDIJK: You could say I began as a dead person. It was
* This interview between Peter Sloterdijk and René Scheu appeared under the title ‘Die Athletik der Sterbens’, in Schweizer Monatshefte 6 (2007): 34–9.
At the time of the interview René Scheu was editor-in-chief and publisher of the magazine Schweizer Monat.
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a complicated birth. My parents were Rhesus-incompatible, and that’s sufficient for starting off as a near-dead person. I developed severe jaundice immediately after I was born, which led people who saw me to comment that blue eyes look particularly good with yellow skin. To be honest, I didn’t see it as an aesthetic privilege. From the first moment of my life I was already reminded of its end. When the beginning evokes the end it makes a starting point that colours everything.
SCHEU: In dark colours?
SLOTERDIJK: It was a dark beginning, but it was followed by brighter intervals that kept getting larger. These clearings have meant most to me as a philosopher. Incidentally, Emil Cioran used a similar trope in one of his darkest books, The Trouble with Being Born, where he says: ‘We do not rush toward death,’ but ‘We flee the catastrophe of birth. ’
SCHEU: You have spoken of the possibility of a life in which death casts no shadow. Isn’t that merely the fantasy of a philoso- pher whose birth was a death agony?
SLOTERDIJK: We have to distinguish between death and dying. In the end, nobody can know death – anybody who knows it is already beyond all knowing. We simply observe its protocol, its attendant circumstances, at most the process of annihilation, from the internal perspective up to the critical boundary. Dying has a claustrophobic dimension that is difficult to overestimate. The Romantics suppressed it by always emphasizing the agoraphiliac dimensions of dying: everything becomes big, beautiful and open, you stand on a field of blooms in May, you have more space than you ever had and you fill it with your soul. The truth is, in the death agony, space becomes narrower; you have no place any more, either in this world or in this time. The feeling of a choking point like that is the most unbearable thing imaginable.
SCHEU: Is a life without relation to death really a life worth living? Or would it be something like the infinite extension of thoughtlessness?
SLOTERDIJK: It would be worth living – I use the conjunctive because I personally feel different about this. Yet I can definitely imagine a life like that. Making appreciation of life dependent on its inner relation to death is an old European quirk. Life also exists with its very own intensity and wakefulness, without morbidity and backlog, and without interest in what is beyond death, even without the need for reunion in the world beyond with loved ones who have died. If we look at our concept of life in relation to the Hindu her- meneutics of death, for example, we become startlingly aware of our dependence on our own history and culture. In the Hindu concept,
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the wish is to be delivered from life and released from the wheel of rebirth. In Western culture, by contrast, dreams of reunion are a major source of thanatological fantasies. By the way, it seems to me that in constructing ideas of the world beyond, the fear of negative encounters has been just as powerful as the positive dimension . . .
SCHEU: We want to live forever but are afraid to meet really nasty people in the hereafter . . .
SLOTERDIJK: Then let’s rather live forever on earth. That would be the conclusion of a thanatological explanation of the will to life. The fear of meeting people we hate in the nether world has roused some people’s hopes that there is absolutely no hereafter. People never give up hoping that heaven may be a labyrinth in which the inhabitants lose their way. That reminds me of a popular joke. St Peter is taking a new arrival around heaven and shows him the different sections: the Jews here, the Muslims there, and the Hindus on the other side. At the end of the tour, he points to a grim- faced group behind a wall and says, ‘Hush, those are the Catholics. They think they’re alone here. ’
SCHEU: We can see something like the birth of real life from the spirit of consciousness of death, not only in Western philosophy but also in our popular fantasies – look at Hollywood. Which cultural influences do you think are responsible for this?
SLOTERDIJK: A strong heroic-athletic pathos developed in Greek culture and extended to all areas of life. Since then life has meant being in good form and our greatest hope is a chance to die at our peak. That is the hidden message of the Iliad. The two strongest warriors on the plain of Troy, Hector and Achilles, depart this life at the right moment. They both escape an existence after their best form.
SCHEU: In Christianity, however, people achieve their triumph not in the perfect timing of death but in God, the guarantor of the triumph over death.
SLOTERDIJK: Our modern consciousness of death is indeed a secular relic of the Catholic memento mori culture. If you will allow me a brief digression into philosophical history about an author who combined both the Greek and Christian legacies . . .
SCHEU: Go ahead . . .
SLOTERDIJK: It is interesting that Martin Heidegger, who was a former acolyte, was at his least Catholic at the time when he spoke most about death. This radical communion with oneself, death not only as one’s own possibility but superlatively enhanced as the ‘most deeply personal possibility’, as the possibility of impossibility, to some extent as the anticipation of the Last Judgement in one’s own soul, was also fascinating for the Protestants of the 1920s. As
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a result they believed – wrongly – that Heidegger was their man. Heidegger’s idea culminated in something extremely un-Christian: the heroic appropriation of one’s own death. In Christianity, on the other hand, death was celebrated as casting off the trappings of life, as relinquishing any form of property rights. Heidegger made dying into a borderline case of skill, an appropriation of expropria- tion. This leads, of course, to a heroic attitude that fitted the general political situation of military nationalism between the two world wars.
SCHEU: But the Christian attitude towards death seems more ambiguous to me than you have depicted it so far. Christianity heroized death as well.
SLOTERDIJK: That’s quite correct. In the accounts of Matthew, Mark and Luke, the Messiah dies on the cross in a pose of extreme self-sacrifice, and the expropriation he suffers is emphasized with great clarity, whereas, strangely enough, in the Gospel according to St John, there is an athletic conclusion in the phrase the Redeemer uttered on the cross: ‘It is finished. ’ This statement is typical of the Hellenization of Christianity. The man on the cross becomes like an athlete who raises his arms at the moment he crosses the finish- ing line. (At this point Sloterdijk fetches the Novum Testamentum Graece et Latine and checks the relevant text. ) ‘Tetelestai’, ‘con- summatum est’: it sounds as if Jesus is summing up his own dying performance at the moment he arrives at his goal.
SCHEU: To be able to die, the facility of death – are you saying that the techniques you call ‘anthropotechnics’ in your books, the techniques of self-domestication of humans, are ultimately directed towards overcoming death? Thanks to genetic engineering, will death soon become an option: the only people who must die are those who want to?
SLOTERDIJK: Modern technology undoubtedly has an inner teleology. If we want to understand it, we have to go beyond the usual perception of technology as an extension of our bodily organs. Organ extensions are also dream or fantasy extensions. There is nothing in the results of technology that was not previously con- tained in metaphysics; and there is nothing in metaphysics that was not previously contained in magic. In other words, there is a line from magic to technology, and we have to ask what the magical and the bio-technological disposition of consciousness have in common.
SCHEU: And what would be the answer?
SLOTERDIJK: Probably that we can see magical thought expressed in the most up-to-date technologies. Magical thought starts from the assumption that there is no natural death. Death is always the result of an occult scandal . . .
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SCHEU: Scandal?
SLOTERDIJK: Something evil, a dirty trick, manipulation. Death is a result of external machinations that can be attributed to evil actors. People wouldn’t die if there weren’t somebody who meant harm to them. From this perspective, the naturalization of death is a remarkable achievement of higher metaphysics. It understands nature as a neutral force for order that is powerful enough to put even death in its place. Incidentally, any modern neurotic person would agree with the magical idea that there is no natural death. He knows that unfortunately he is living under one roof with his murderer – his own body. The lung, that old devil! I know exactly what it’s planning. It will murder me one day – but it shouldn’t think I’m going to give up smoking just to please it! Or the prostate, the projected time bomb in the male body that could have been invented by the nastiest feminists. The domestication of death is the greatest cultural achievement of metaphysical thought. It has taken over from the original paranoia. Today this function has been delegated to medicine.
SCHEU: The first human being will be cloned some time in the near future. Do you see a danger in human genetics?
SLOTERDIJK: Keep calm. The domesticating forces that were constructed around these technologies are so great that it would be absurd to assume some crazy despot could seize control of the world using an army of biological robots.
SCHEU: When humans interfere with their genetic make-up it can sometimes have irreversible consequences. For example, they could decide on specific characteristics that would deprive them of their natural openness.
SLOTERDIJK: Agreed. But we have long since been familiar with this problem in another form. It is good old alienation. To a great extent, human living conditions are nothing more than large- scale attacks on the openness of the world. The traditional victims of these attacks are farmers and proletarians – or, at least, that is how critical social theory has portrayed these groups. For thousands of years, they have been deprived of the possibility of living up to their real potential. In short, that humans undercut other humans is a his- torical finding that has troubled class societies from way back when.
SCHEU: That sounds as if you believe in a classless society in which everybody can achieve his or her potential.
SLOTERDIJK: No. The only reason I don’t believe in that is because many people reject openness. This is what all those who criticized exploitation in the name of justice refused to see. If people choose alienation they shouldn’t be forced into liberation.
SCHEU: Does that mean there will be two kinds of people in
216 The Athletics of Dying
the future: those who are for openness and those who vote for bio- technological alienation?
SLOTERDIJK: That’s possible, but I don’t think that’s the decisive question. I would like to refer to the issue of a life liberated by death in its present bio-technological form. In other words, the discussion about the gene for longevity. The first big fraud case in the still young history of human bio-technology concerned precisely this object. The Korean researcher Hwang Woo-suk was supposed to have achieved sensational findings related to this gene. A whole battalion of scientists in California worked on the decoding of the longevity gene, which people obviously believed to exist. The tech- nology prophet Ray Kurzweil described the present as the moment just before the breakthrough to immortality. The idea was: keep going, just don’t slack. The slogan was: ‘Live long enough to live forever! ’ Now let’s assume a scenario in which all human beings can soon live for 150 or 200 years. We would have exactly the situation we discussed earlier. Death would no longer be a natural end. Instead, it would always be left to the discretion of individu- als themselves or an external agent. Where there was once death, there will be murder or suicide. Stone Age logic turns out to be right.
SCHEU: Would you describe these techno-biological imaginings as naïve but not reprehensible?
SLOTERDIJK: The childishness of the belief in a very long life, what we call eternal life, is rather touching. But we Europeans have ourselves to blame. We should never have let the people who later became Americans go. It was clear that they moved away to be able to dream in peace somewhere else. Now we have to deal with their flights of fancy.
SCHEU: You argue in your books for collaboration between humans and technology. You say there is nothing a priori wrong with people acquiring technical equipment and engaging in biologi- cal optimization and digital networking.
SLOTERDIJK: My technicism, or support for technology, is part of my blueprint for General Immunology. It mainly concerns what I call the ‘incubator system’. We must look at human history as a series of attempts to optimize the human incubator. After all, we have been incubator creatures since the earliest times. That is why Homo sapiens was made into a hybrid from the beginning. Humans first became the exceptional beings they are as part of a long, unconscious self-breeding sequence, and this experiment has always taken place in an incubator facilitated by the use of tools. Today we are slowly realizing this – and it would be naïve, if not reactionary, to refuse to acknowledge it.
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SCHEU: What once occurred unconsciously is now coming close to conscious manipulation.
SLOTERDIJK: That’s right. That’s why I think there should be an absolute ban on fraudulent claims in relation to human bio- technology. Only what can be done with high precision is ethically responsible. But if people could really be trusted to do what they must be able to do, for example, to eliminate certain dreadful forms of inherited pathologies, they wouldn’t be infringing any human rights. There is no human obligation to be ill! I would strongly advocate a second Hippocratic oath. Doctors should pledge not only to benefit health as such but also to benefit the conditions of the possibility of health. Anyone infringing this, by neglecting research, for instance, would be guilty of denial of assistance.
SCHEU: You have made yourself very unpopular in Germany with statements like that.
SLOTERDIJK: In this country people are quick to label you as an ogre. Fortunately, the Swiss have a more pragmatic attitude.
26
DO YOUR DUTY TO ENJOY! Interview with Christoph Bopp*1
BOPP: Professor Sloterdijk, how do philosophers express themselves nowadays? I remember reading the word ‘explication’ somewhere, but I think you’re not an analytical philosopher con- cerned with the meaning of words. What defines a philosophical author now?
SLOTERDIJK: You’re starting right at the beginning with ques- tions that should be left until the end! The rules say you should start by asking things like: what do you think about the fact that autumn is coming? Or: what is your relationship to Switzerland? But you want to know fundamental things immediately and if I gave the right answers you would only be able to respond with enlightened silence.
BOPP: Let’s avoid that. However, a journalist can hope for indulgence if he starts head on. Given the scope of your work, he is certainly at risk of asking about things he should really have known. And if you pose the question of the author’s self-image you can be fairly sure that it has already been answered, at least indirectly.
SLOTERDIJK: So how does the author see himself? Seeing oneself as an author is a statement with its own implications. Most people can’t or don’t want to claim authorship. I can only do it myself by looking back at a life trajectory marked by around thirty occasions on which my books first entered the public arena. With a
* This interview between Peter Sloterdijk and Christoph Bopp appeared under the title ‘Der neue Kategorische Imperativ: “Erfülle deine Genießerpflicht! ”’, in <litart. twoday. net/files/Peter-Sloterdijk-/>
Christoph Bopp is a Swiss journalist.
Do Your Duty To Enjoy! 219
long track record like that you can hardly deny you are an author – even if your career was affected by a trend that ran through the cultural superstructure in the 1970s. At that time people used to talk seriously about a sad event called the ‘death of the author’.
BOPP: Well, by now the subject is already dead philosophically as well.
SLOTERDIJK: Its wretched end is part of the same wave of declarations of death. Yet the subject is still around, haunting, very much alive, just like the ghostly ‘author’. Take my own specific case: how can a dead man write thirty books? At which desk could he have done that?
BOPP: Anyway, you coined the phrase ‘thinker on stage’ for Nietzsche.
SLOTERDIJK: That expression contains part of my author theory. I described Nietzsche as a thinker who not only performed like an actor on stage but actually also saw his psyche as a stage on which rival ‘artistic drives’ duelled with each other. He offered his own self to these drives as a theatrum belli and let the conflicting energies fight each other. This is an image I was able to adapt for household use. We shouldn’t envisage the author as a river flowing calmly and untroubled from source to estuary. True, there are states of fluidity, but the clashes are more important for production. The author is actually a moderator of the partial energies at work inside him, and his writing oversees the collisions.
BOPP: Does he describe them like an accident reporter?
SLOTERDIJK: He looks into his inner self and reports which corpses are lying on the street again today.
BOPP: In your book, Rage and Time, whose title alludes to Heidegger’s Being and Time, you casually remarked that Heidegger was not the kind of author who – to quote Nietzsche again – would have been able to deal with such ‘dangerous truths’. Do you mean Heidegger would have sidestepped such clashes or avoided them?
SLOTERDIJK: To avert any possible misunderstanding: Heidegger made an enormous contribution to contemporary phi- losophy. I was a follower of Critical Theory, however, and that means I was only able to concentrate on Heidegger after my return from India, after 1980. He had previously been regarded as a non- person in our circles and was buried under an obscure taboo. That’s why I only discovered later what he had to offer – for example, a very inspiring theory of moods [Stimmungen]. This involves pre- logical shades of Dasein that precede all individual cognitions. Such gains in the scope of philosophical discourse are significant because they help to correct the over-exaggerated rationalism of tradition. They allow philosophy to connect up with a large variety
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of life experiences that were previously inaccessible to philosophical discourse.
BOPP: But aren’t you very critical of Heidegger in Rage and Time?
SLOTERDIJK: Yes, I try to show that the founding of histori- cal time – in fact, ‘historicity’ is one of the pathos-imbued words Heidegger used in his youth and middle period – didn’t occur in the way he imagined it. We do not receive either a ‘call of Being’ or a ‘call of care’. Instead, great history arises through the memory of injustice and the process of resentment. When the sediment of unprocessed and unrequited experience of suffering forms in human memories, a history-making mechanism goes into motion, a sort of ‘causality of fate’, as the early observers of tragic events described it. The effect is that the consequences of an evil deed reappear at a later time in another place.
BOPP: The timespan stretches from the suffered and remembered injustice to its retribution.
SLOTERDIJK: That’s right. We can’t comprehend the original process of the founding of time at all without investigating those feelings of setback and the transactions for reparation. At this point a gap opens up in Heidegger’s studies, and I tried to close it in Rage and Time. In doing so, I couldn’t avoid moving Heidegger closer to Nietzsche again. The latter broached the major moral topic of the epoch in the twentieth century with his theory of resentments. But aside from Max Scheler’s contributions,1 there was hardly any advance in the area of resentment analysis after Nietzsche’s great intervention. It was high time to take a new approach to the phe- nomenon in the light of our experiences with the gigantic conflicts in the twentieth century. If we don’t show how resentment could become the primary historical power in it, the whole epoch remains obscure.
BOPP: That seems to me not just a type of analysis, but also a totally different perspective on history. It means no longer looking at it as development, as an unfolding process. We can’t explain any more how something became but, rather, in retrospect, we can see stages and events happen that become realized to some extent and become, in turn, the seeds for further realizations.
SLOTERDIJK: We should be mindful here of the synergy between involuntary and voluntary memory. The phenomenon of
1 Max Scheler (1874–1928) was a German philosopher, psychologist, soci- ologist and anthropologist. He is known as the founder of philosophical anthropology.
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resentment itself is composed of moments of voluntary and invol- untary memory. Europeans were able to observe this recently in the remarkable process of the break-up of Yugoslavia. At that time Miloševic preached the myth of lordly defeat to the Serbs. In his infamous speech at the Gazemistan memorial on the 600th anniver- sary of the Battle of Kosovo in 1389, he said that the more the Serbs had lost back then, the more they had won since. That was a sort of admission of failure of all histories fuelled by resentment: ‘We’ – whoever he actually meant by that, but in any case ‘a collective of chosen losers’ –
BOPP: ‘We’ have entered history . . .
SLOTERDIJK: I have speculatively deduced far-reaching con- sequences from those kinds of ‘entries’. I proposed describing the historical collective that is generally called ‘peoples’ or, more recently, ‘nations’, as groups processing resentment that put them- selves under stress by remembrance of collectively experienced traumata. For most people, those traumata are something inherited from far away, something they could certainly not have suffered themselves. As an individual, I can’t remember humiliation inflicted 600 years ago, but somehow I acquire joint ownership of this trauma.
BOPP: Identities that already carry the seed of violence within them to some extent. . . .
SLOTERDIJK: After the Second World War the Germans showed in an exemplary fashion that there is an alternative way out of humiliation. They have worked on their trauma so intensively that they have completely broken out of the repetition compulsion. In the truest sense of the expression, they have become a different nation.
BOPP: You spoke earlier of ‘ownership of a trauma’, and you also work with economic metaphors in Rage and Time.
