
“Motherland
means safety” - says Jean Améry. Writing these words in his 1966 book “At the
Mind’s Limits”, in the chapter entitled “How Much Motherland Does a Man Need?”
the Frenchman Jean Améry, born Franz Meyer in Austria in 1912, knew what he was
talking about. He had lost his homeland and it took him 27 years to fully grasp
what that loss - by then irreversible and irretrievable - entailed: he realized
that “by returning to a space one never regains the time lost”.
Safety
means certainty; and in turn, „we can feel safe wherever we do not expect
anything unexpected, where we do not have to fear anything completely and
utterly strange” - that is, completely and utterly incomprehensible and thus,
as Wittgenstein would say, anything that not only does not come with instructions
but not even with a hint of how to deal with it. Améry realized he had lost his
motherland when he found himself surrounded by signs that to him were “as
illegible as the Etruscan script”: “Faces, gestures, clothes, houses and
words”, while continuing as sensory perceptions, no longer signified anything. And
if motherland is the headquarters of order, predictability and self-confidence,
a strange country is the domain of disorder, surprise and confusion. Returning
to one’s motherland after a prolonged absence one can discover or at least
guess at, the order of meanings in the chaos of experience; but “an émigré, who
has ended up in a foreign country as an adult, won’t be able to recognize these
signs instinctively; rather it will be an intellectual act requiring a certain
mental effort.”
As
we acquire our mother tongue we would not even notice it has a grammar, were in
not for our teachers pointing it out to us, at first to our surprise, later
also to our irritation. Grammar is the Cerberus blocking the entrance to all
languages - with the exception of the mother tongue (it is precisely the lack
of a Cerberus at the gates that makes it our mother tongue). Grammar in our mother tongue is a reliable,
yet unobtrusive guide, a thoughtful, yet invisible guardian angel; in all other
languages it is a demon lurking in the darkness at the top of Jacob’s ladder. As
Günther Anders, quoted by Améry, said: “No-one can spend years moving about
exclusively within the limits of languages he is not fluent in, languages which
he can at best merely try to imitate incompetently, without falling victim to
the poverty of his speech.” For in these
circumstances the mother tongue also starts crumbling away “bit by bit, and
mostly in such inconspicuous and gradual ways that we do not notice its loss.” Until
the moment of revelation that comes some 27 or more years later, when we
realize that the irretrievable loss of our motherland is as irreversible as the
loss of safety. This is the moment when we realize that “La table will never be the same as the table, and that at best it can be a place where we can eat our
fill.”
Exile robs the émigré of his identity, and thereby of
his confidence. By the same token, it
robs him of the belief that what he considers to be true really is true. And
since this belief is the shield protecting him from knowing what is true and
what is not, sooner and later exile will also strip the émigré of his
knowledge. (…) The unshakeability of the globe relies on the
strong shoulders of Atlas’ identity. And
its “foundations crumble” when those shoulders begin to tremble. And exile will
make sure they will tremble.
Truth is what we all know to be true because we
believe in its truthfulness - we believe we know that which is obvious to all
of us. Obviousness is an alloy of knowledge and belief. Obviousness cannot be
acquired, procured or concocted.
Something is either obvious or not obvious - tertium non datur.
Something is obvious only and exclusively if it appears as such to “everyone”
who believes in its obviousness and if nobody can question my right to embrace
“everyone” within the personal pronoun “we”. If these conditions are met, I have an
identity. If not, all I have is a hint of identity or an idea of an identity; a
kind of application for an identity that might be accepted or rejected in a
court authorized to adjudicate in this matter, if such a court existed and if it
undertook to examine our case. But no such court exists - and the foundations
of the globe begin to crumble. And once they do, they can never be stopped.
In my case these conditions were not met. I was lucky
to be offered a choice, which is wonderful. Except that my choice, as a private
matter, is not binding on anyone but me. And that may be wonderful, but not
quite.
Henryk Grynberg, who managed to smelt a noble chunk of
literature out of the motley ore of Polish exile, said (in a book entitled…. “Émigré”,
what else): “Suicides are also émigrés, maybe even more so.” Exactly.
Totalitarianism as a computer game
Slavoj Žižek (a character lifted straight out the age
of dada and épater les bourgeois into
an age when there is nobody left to be “épatéd” because everyone has already been “épatéd” up to their eyeballs and driven
completely mad by “épatation” of every kind) said recently that two German films that show
the everyday life of the Ossis at a time before the nickname for the East
Germans was coined, do not capture the essence of communist totalitarianism;
moreover, that they falsify its reality. If you want to know and tell others
what life under communism was like, he declares, you should make films based on
Varlam Shalamov’s “Tales from Kolyma” … And, by implication: the truth of
communism was concealed in the barracks of Magadan rather than permeating the
streets of Tambov or Yaroslavl. And the truth of Nazism must have been located
in
I would ask Žižek, if it was worth it (which it is
not), why is it that those fortunate enough to have been born too late to
personally experience totalitarianism should want to exert their brains in
order to grasp the nature of totalitarianism, a history that is, for them, long
dead. Their need for stomach- churning atrocities
is fully satisfied by “Reservoir Dogs”, “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, or “Friday the Thirteenth”, as well as by daily helpings of television horror and
hundreds of variations on computer games involving the wholesale murder of
weirdos. … Surely, compared with the refined artistry of cinema, television,
Nintendo or Play Station, the everyday life in the barracks of the
concentration camps or the communist bloc must seem like some abortive creations
produced by provincial amateurs and manufacturers of cheap kitsch. These lucky
beasts have known almost from the day they were born that monstrous things are
the creation of monsters and sordid things are created by scoundrels, and that
monsters and scoundrels therefore have to be exterminated before they get a
chance to exterminate us, and that, since those who are being exterminated are
the spawn of the devil it must follow that those who subdue them are nothing
but angels? So as they sit at their computers with their faces ablush, trying
to defeat the electronic monsters at their own wicked game, to respond to their
trickery with their own, even more refined, tricks and mow them down in their
multitudes before they start mowing down ours, it does not in the least offend
their own high opinion of themselves. After all, these electronic monsters
ambushed them out of pure cruelty whereas they, on their part, were only trying
to save themselves and while they were at it, the rest of the world, from the
brutes. Humanity is divided into executioners and their victims, and once the
latter finally exterminate the last of the former, we can safely store
brutality in one of the deposits of memory (or forgetting) and slam the door
behind it. If brutality is the creation of brutes we are without blemish – quod
erat demonstrandum.
Oh, how I wish that things were that simple… If only totalitarianism
could be reduced to releasing from their cages a couple of beasts who in
“normal, i.e. decent times” are kept under lock and key… If only suffering were
indeed ennobling, if it afforded safe conduct to innocence and moral virtue… If
only the perpetrators lack of virtue would not leak staining the victims and
witnesses of their crimes, if only the victims marched to the executioner’s
block pure and immaculate… If only the world could be neatly and tidily
divided, as they did in both kinds of barracks (or at least made a fervent
effort trying to, and if they did not succeed then certainly not for lack of
zeal!) into those who are omnipotent and those who succumb to their
omnipotence, into those who act and those who submit to their action. Then the
Communist and the Nazi totalitarianisms would be just another two of those bloody
episodes in which the history of mankind abounds. An episode in which some beat
and others are beaten. An episode that has to be (and can be) ended by whipping
those who had done the beating and decorating those who were beaten. And after ending them, we could lock their
yellowing and withered relics in archives, knowing they will never again
trouble those of us who have locked them away.
Unfortunately, despite Žižek’s advice, the horrors of
totalitarianism cannot be grasped by contemplating Kolyma or
Survivor syndrome
Suffering is always painful but rarely ennobling. It is obvious that causing suffering morally taints
the perpetrator. But the victims do not get away safe and untainted either by
the destruction of moral impulses and inhibitions… Do they wait for their
chance to pay back the executioners in their own coin? Yes, but first they
learn the secrets of life in which this coin is currency. Right after the war, American psychiatrists
who treated people who had survived the horrors of the Holocaust described the
ailment tormenting their patients as guilt syndrome: “Why am I alive when so
many others died in front of my eyes?!” However, they changed their view very
quickly. “Guilt syndrome” vanished from psychiatric vocabulary to be replaced
by “survivor syndrome”. “They are out to get me, to finish me off, and they are
sure to succeed if I don’t get there first, if I don’t strike the first blow…”
„Survivor syndrome” is hereditary: successive
generations pass on the poisoned fruit of a martyrology that is disappearing
into the past. Descendants of victims
cultivate only the communal categorical myth and hereditary martyrdom without
having experienced the events that generated these messages; this circumstance
makes “survivor” scholarship, spun from the experience of martyrdom, impervious
to practical tests. The vision of a world conspiracy, freed from factual tests,
pervades and dominates the “survivor” milieu. It enables individual
“survivors”, speaking with Alain Finkielkraut, to participate in the
glorification of their martyred ancestors and, on this basis, to demand
compensation and licence to act ruthlessly - without paying the price their
ancestors had to pay for their descendants’ memory.
Both victims and silent witnesses of atrocities, who
were forced, in Jan Błoński’s words, to „participate in the bloody spectacle”
now know only too well that there are ways
-- inhuman perhaps? maybe so, but certainly effective - of getting rid
of human problems, be they real or imagined. And that inhumanity is part of human
nature. And that means that someone, somewhere, sometime, might resort to those
ways again. And therefore one might also have to resort to them if the fear
becomes unbearable…. The price of survival is the killing of those who can and
want to kill you and therefore have to kill you…
“Survival syndrome” suggests that the point of life is
survival - with the proviso that, whoever is the first to strike a blow will
survive the one or the ones who did not manage to do so. If the blow is struck in good time, hitting
the target and knocking it out, there is no need to fear revenge or punishment.
The post-Holocaust world has promoted “preventative” wars. As the experience of
Why Schindler beats Korczak
In “Schindler’s List” Steven Spielberg tells it like
it is: at the time of furnaces and contempt
what mattered was to survive. Thus it
must have also mattered that some people survived instead of others. To the
sounds of critical applause Spielberg enlists the same sinister instrument of
modern genocide in the service of “the art of survival” which Raoul Hilberg
considered to be the first step to extermination of European Jewry (their fate
was sealed, he writes, the moment the first German local officials drew up the
first lists of the Jewish inhabitants of their cities). Schindler, the film’s
hero, hailed as a “redeemer of humanity” (in a reference to the Talmud), refuses to swap his Jewesses
- i.e. the ones on his list - for “other Jewesses”. And audiences applaud as
Schindler drags a man off a train leaving for Treblinka, a man who was on his
list and, unlike the remaining passengers, was rammed into the cattle truck by
mistake and through oversight. As Janina [David]recalls, future victims in the
After Janina’s Brussels talk on the various ways of
interpreting the lessons of the Holocaust in cinema, a Belgian film maker asked
her why the film „Korczak”, a key work by Andrzej Wajda, was not shown in
American cinemas and why it was ignored by American critics. That’s simple,
Janina replied. Wajda’s (and Korczak’s) message stands in glaring contrast to
the dominant version of Holocaust scholarship. Korczak did not save a single life - not even
his own! All Korczak did was save human dignity of two hundred children from
being abused and polluted. So why respect him and why honour his memory?
Elias Canetti was perhaps the first to warn of the
poisoned legacy of the Holocaust. “The most elementary and obvious form of
success is survival.” This criterion of success has bred the cult of
“survivors” and elevated the “attitude of survivors” onto a pedestal. By
accepting this attitude - Canetti lets alarm bells ring - “they want to survive
their contemporaries”, and if things come to the worst, they are willing “to
kill in order to survive others”. “They want to survive in order not to be
survived by others.”
That nice neighbour is a beast
Summing up the lessons she derived from the years of
contempt, furnaces and extermination, the wise Janina wrote that the
executioners used to dehumanize their victims before putting them to death and
that one of the hardest challenges of her life was to stay human in inhuman
conditions. Albert Camus wrote that
genocide is nothing new in the history of mankind; what is new is genocide
carried out in the name of human happiness, historic justice or other equally
noble goals. And, as demonstrated by
genocide carried out on behalf of racial purity, just like genocide carried out
in the name of class purity, what is new is also the ease with which “decent
people”, exemplary fathers of families, faithful husbands, kind neighbours, can
be convinced that the lofty goal of purifying the world makes zealous
participation in the purge a virtue and obligation for “decent people”. Perhaps
the most shocking information found in Hannah Arendt’s report of Adolf Eichmann’s
trial was the opinions of distinguished psychiatrists who were asked to examine
the defendant’s soundness of mind. They all agreed that Eichmann was not only
“normal” by all common standards of “normalcy” but that he could be considered
a model virtuous citizen - and in fact was regarded as such by his neighbours.
One shudders at the thought of what kind of activity
this neat and nice neighbour, whom I only know from exchanging daily pleasant
greetings and smiles, might be involved in his “office hours”... Totalitarian times leave behind a sediment of
suspiciousness. But suspiciousness
towards oneself (“If things had come to the worst, I might have joined in
too….”) - no matter how thoroughly suppressed and pushed into the darkest
recesses of our minds - only fans the flames of suspicion against our
neighbour. In order to get rid of the fear and repulsion of one’s own meanness,
which has lain dormant until now but might awaken at any time, we have to turn
meanness into something inborn, something that only the neighbour owns.
Christopher Browning’s conscience was shaken by the discovery that, if
“ordinary people” recruited into the 101st Auxiliary Battalion were
capable of such atrocities, then all of us, ordinary people, were capable of
such bestial behaviour. To protect his own conscience and that of his readers,
Daniel Goldhagen revised Browning’s sentence: if “ordinary Germans” from the 101st
Battalion were capable of such atrocities, all of them, all Germans, were ready
to commit such crimes. And not because the beast slumbers within each man and can be harnessed to perform
any task, no matter how wicked, as long as we find the right stick and harness;
but because the Germans, possessed by
their hatred of the Jews, were happy to carry out the most wicked acts against
the Jews.
Two versions of totalitarianism
The lasting (how lasting?!) legacy of both
totalitarian regimes is moral devastation. Manichean moods, to which Stanisław Ossowski refers in his
concern about the future of a nation exposed to a test that is beyond
its powers of endurance, have always been an instinctive reflex; they are not
the kind of mood we succumb to today, get rid of tomorrow and forget the following
day, but rather features of the „normal“, usual way of perceiving the world,
reinforced by sound reason and sanctified by the calendar of public rituals, of
one’s own place in the world and a recipe for one’s own survival.
In this respect the legacy of the two totalitarian
regimes [Nazism and communism] would appear at first sight to be identical. However, there are profound differences
between these two legacies. The German totalitarian system affected the Germans
in a different way than it did the Poles. And the totalitarian system imported from the
Soviets, which tried to take root in Poland, promising the Poles a share
of future benefits and forcing them to participate in procedures aimed at
speeding up and easing the arrival of those benefits, had an impact on the
Poles quite different from that of the other, brutally alien, Hitlerite
totalitarianism which situated the Poles from the very beginning and openly,
without reservation, on the other side of the wall, among its victims.
And this is where the analogy breaks down and there is simply no point in discussing, in the same breath, the five years of Hitler’s occupation and the half century of the Polish People’s Republic, as if their essence were exhausted by belonging to the same chapter in the nation’s martyrology. And it certainly does not make it any easier to come to terms with the legacy of either totalitarian period.
pošli do vybrali.sme.sk |
Facebook| Po | Ut | St | Št | Pi | So | Ne |
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ||
| 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |
| 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |
| 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
| 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | |||
| « september » | « 2010 » | ||||||