Herbert Marcuse: Theses on Postwar Critical Theory (1947)

+ Adorno & Horkheimer's Fragments on Freedom of Spirit (ca. 1949/50)

Byon Yeongwon. Pangongyohan. 1952.

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Contents.

Editor’s note: The Postwar (Anti-)Program of Critical Theory (~1946-1950).

I. Theses on Postwar Critical Theory: Part I (February 1947). Herbert Marcuse¹

II. On the freedom of spirit and its threats, especially in the Soviet sphere of influence (ca. 1949/50). Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno²

III. Horkheimer—Fragments on the Prospects of Revolutionary Theory (ca. 1950).

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Editor’s note: The Postwar (Anti-)Program of Critical Theory (~1946-1950).

I first learned of Marcuse’s ‘Theses’ from the excerpts in Rolf Wiggershaus’ Frankfurt School (1994). As I’ve argued elsewhere, Wiggershaus is the last great representative of the ‘long farewell’ thesis of the development of early critical theory—namely, that in the course of the 1930s-1940s, the ISR core became increasingly isolated, institutionally and theoretically, from both empirical social research and from Marxism—in no small part because his archival research is so thorough it undermines the interpretive conventions he represents. The ‘Theses’ are a prime example. Wiggershaus is not only the first historian of the Frankfurt School who, to my knowledge, recognizes the significance of the typescript, but offers an elegant distillation of the core of the program (the qualitative leap out of capitalist social domination into the anarchy of a Soviet Republic) and even notes that Horkheimer doesn’t get around to promising his own complement to the theses until a letter ‘nearly two years later.’ However, Wiggershaus also insists (more than once) that “Marcuse’s February 1947 draft must have shocked Adorno and Horkheimer.”³ While this is consistent with the interpretive convention of ‘the long farewell,’ it is contradicted by the correspondence. Horkheimer was, in fact, uncharacteristically enthusiastic about Marcuse’s ‘Theses.’ Marcuse announced the ‘Theses’ in a letter to Horkheimer dated February 9th, 1947:

… A prolonged “putting-on-ice” [Kaltstellung] of what must be said seems to me neither subjectively nor objectively tolerable. This holds for the Zeitschrift as well. I consider the necessity of its reappearance even more pressing than I did three months ago—despite having fully taken Löwenthal’s counter-arguments into account. I have done my small part of the preliminary work: I have drafted (I fear I am the only one to have done so) the notes we had agreed upon at our last meeting. They are truly just notes. Yet, I continue to work on them, and since there’s no end in sight as of right now, I’ll send you the first part as soon as it’s typed out. Perhaps these will be the basis for the beginning of a discussion, at least.⁴

In March, Horkheimer wrote that he had yet to receive Marcuse’s ‘Theses’ but expressed his interest and apologized for having had to interrupt his work on the ‘sketch’ he claimed he’d begun working on earlier that January.⁵ In a letter to Leo Löwenthal dated October 3rd, 1947, Horkheimer wrote that he and Marcuse had outlined a tentative line-up for the first issue of the long-planned new ZfS,⁶ which would build on Marcuse’s theses—and especially on a ‘second part’ I haven’t been able to find (assuming it survived)—but, because of anticipated German censorship, would try to realize the same program with a strategic shift of focus onto ‘objective mind [Geist]’:

Marcuse’s visit has been very pleasant so far. The theses he wrote as a possible program for the Zeitschrift, particularly the second part, contain some of the best formulations on these topics I have heard for a long time. Since the publication of a Zeitschrift with the aspirations and about the same volume of the old one would involve not only too much of our common time but also too great a risk, we considered the possibility of a smaller periodical which would be exclusively devoted to the critique of culture i.e., of any work in the realm of the objective mind: books, periodicals, plays, movies, compositions etc.). Such a review would be much easier to write and also less risky. During the next few months each of us should probably write one article. This would give us an idea what effort it would mean and what the first one or two issues would look like. We thought you might be able to condense your German study on Biographies for this purpose if you don't want to take a German bestseller of the day. Marcuse would write on Jaspers, Teddie on Koestler, and I possibly on a report on the German experiments on the human being which Marcuse will send me. All this, however, is very tentative and naturally you will be kept informed. The whole idea has the great advantage that the final decision on the periodical itself does not have to be made until several months later.⁷

While this reorientation to ‘the critique of culture’ might appear a break with Marcuse’s program, both Horkheimer and Marcuse himself seemed to consider it another aspect of a project with “one common core,” one to which both ‘economic’ problems like “Teilsozialisierung” (partial-socialization) and ‘philosophical’ problems like “the proclamations of Herr Jaspers” could be traced back.⁸ The program Horkheimer and Marcuse discussed was evidently the consummate anti-program of the age, a total critique of postwar German “political, economic, and cultural programs and ‘Richtlinien.’”⁹ Horkheimer even appears to have begun working on a sketch sometime in 1947 for his own contribution to the new volume “on the German experiments on the human being.” Horkheimer continued to refer back to Marcuse’s theses through 1948 as a touchstone for his own reflections on problems such as ‘the internationalization of class conflict’ and the significance of the disappearance of spontaneity in the workers’ movement for the concept of revolution (See: [Horkheimer’s] Letters: From the Critique of Psychology to the Critique of Total Society (1948/49)). When Horkheimer wrote Marcuse ‘nearly two years later’ in a letter of December 1948 that he’d “decided to finally write a sketch of the same kind of your [viz., Marcuse’s] theses with Teddie,” a program that would be not only political but philosophical too,¹⁰ it wasn’t an empty gesture. The motto of the postwar anti-program was, in Horkheimer’s words from an aphorism on “The Fate of Revolutionary Movements” (October 1946):

[T]he truth of that which exists appears as its negation. The world which must be overcome finds expression in the political, artistic, theoretical forms of the spirit which resists the powers of suggestion of social and extra-social nature; it is betrayed by the subject who obeys it.

This is the same libertarian communist spirit Horkheimer and Adorno appeal to across ‘the curtain,’ against the pretensions to freedom ‘East’ and ‘West,’ in the previously unpublished fragment “On the freedom of spirit and its threats, especially in the Soviet sphere of influence (ca. 1949/50),” which I’ve included my own translation of below—as well as translations of several unpublished fragments of Horkheimer’s from the same period (ca. 1950) on the prospects of revolutionary theory ‘under the aspect of total domination.’

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I. Theses on Postwar Critical Theory: Part I (February 1947). Herbert Marcuse

§1. “Following the military defeat of Hitler-Fascism (which was a premature and isolated form of capitalistic reorganization), the world is divided into a neo-fascist camp and a Soviet camp. The existing remnants of democratic-liberal forms are ground to a pulp between the two camps or absorbed into them. The states in which the old ruling classes have survived the war economically and politically will in the near future become fascist, whereas the others will merge with the Soviet camp.”¹¹

§2. “Neo-fascist and Soviet society are economic and class-based adversaries, and a war between them is probable. Both are, however, in their essential forms of domination anti-revolutionary and hostile to socialist development. The war may compel the Soviet state to adopt a new, more radical “line”: such a turn would, however, only be external, vulnerable to reversion; and, if it were successful [in the war], it would be abolished by the monstrous increase of state power.”

§3. “Under these circumstances, there is only one path for revolutionary theory: to ruthlessly and without any masks adopt a position opposed to both systems, to defend orthodox Marxist doctrine against both without compromise. In the face of political actuality, such a stance would be powerless, abstract, and unpolitical, but where political actuality as a whole is false, the unpolitical stance might be the sole political truth.”

§4. The possibility of its political actualization is itself a part of Marxist theory. The working class and the political practice of the working class, the changing class relations (on a national and international scale) continuously determine the concept-formation of the theory, just as they are determined by it—not by that theory without practice, but rather by the theory which “grips the masses.” Actualization is neither the criterion nor the content of Marxist truth; however, the historical impossibility of its actualization is incompatible with it.

§5. Yet, the stance indicated by §3 of the theses confesses the historical impossibility of its actualization. There is no “revolution-ready” workers movement outside of the Soviet camp.¹² The bourgeoisification of social democracy has increased, not decreased. The Trotskyist groups are split and helpless. The communist parties (today) are not revolution-willing and therefore not revolution-ready, but they are the sole anti-capitalist class organization of the proletariat and therefore the sole possible basis (today) of revolution. They are, however, at the same time, the tools of Soviet politics and, as such, are (today) revolution-hostile. The problem lies in the unity of potentially revolution-ready and currently revolution-hostile forces within the communist parties.

§6. The total subordination of communist parties to Soviet politics is itself the result of the changed class relations and the reorganization of capitalism. Fascism, as the modern form of class dictatorship of capital, has completely changed the conditions for revolutionary strategy. Capital has created (not only in the fascist states) a terroristic apparatus of such striking capacity and omnipresence that the traditional weapons of proletarian class struggle appear powerless in the face of it. The new technology of war and its strict monopolization and specialization makes arming the people a hopeless cause. The open identification of the state with the economy, and the integration of the trade union bureaucracy into the state, work against the political strike and particularly the general strike—perhaps the only weapon against fascistized capital. This development has led to the conclusion that the sole possibility of successfully combating the monstrous military-political apparatus of capital lies in the construction and deployment of a military-political counter-apparatus of comparable strength, and to the end of which the whole traditional strategy of revolution must be subordinated. The Soviet Union is regarded as such a counter-apparatus.

§7. The question of whether those who hold power in the Soviet Union are still interested in revolution was secondary in the context of this argument. The same argument was maintained even when it was assumed that the subjective association between Soviet power and the revolution no longer existed. Soviet power, it was said, would unavoidably be dragged into increasingly acute conflicts with the capitalist states—even if it only ever constituted and represented national interests. The Soviet Union was the most dangerous and seductive object of imperialist capital-politics and, as such, the given enemy who would, sooner or later, be forced to take up arms. Their shared opposition to capital was the basis for the future reunification of revolution and Sovietism—just as the momentary alliance of capitalism and Sovietism was the basis for the separation of revolution from Sovietism.

§8. This justification of the communist line is open to the objection that the education in anti-revolutionary, national politics—even if a mere “tactic—has made the working class hopelessly revolution-incapable. It creates “vested interests” with a dynamic of their own, and which can come to dominate tactics. It undermines class consciousness and reinforces subjection to national capital. It contravenes the unity of economics and politics, subsuming class relations under autonomized politics.

§9. The dismissal of the political justification for the subordination of revolutionary strategy to Sovietism is only the precursor to returning the problem to its proper sphere = that of real class relations. The communist line points to these relations behind its political justification: it is the expression and the result of a structural change within the working class and in the relation of the working class to other classes.¹³ The transformation in the form of domination of capital (from which the political justification of the line issues) is also to be understood on the basis of this structural change.

§10. It has found its most tangible expression in the fact that social democracy has victoriously outlived fascism (whose rise it was congenial to), that it has once again monopolized the entirety of the organized labor movement outside of the communist parties, that the communist parties are social-democratizing themselves, and that thus far no revolutionary labor movement has emerged as a consequence of the collapse of Hitler-fascism. Social democracy seems then to be the adequate expression of the non-communist labor movement. And social democracy itself has not been radicalized, but essentially follows its pre-fascist politics of class-cooperation. The non-communist labor movement is a bourgeois (in the objective sense) labor movement, and the voices of the workers against the communist parties join the chorus of voices against revolution as such, not just against Sovietism.

§11. Bourgeoisification [Verbürgerlichung], or the reconciliation of a large sector of the working class with capitalism, cannot be explained by pointing to a (growing) “labor aristocracy.” The labor aristocracy and its enabling factors certainly played a crucial role in the development of social democracy, but the depth and breadth of bourgeoisification extends far beyond the strata of the labor aristocracy. In Germany and France, the vectors of bourgeoisification in the post-fascist period were in no way primarily the exponents of the labor aristocracy. Nor can the depth and breadth of bourgeoisification be explained by the domination of the bureaucracy over the apparatus of organization (of the party and the trade unions): the apparatus of organization was shattered by fascism, and still, in the vacuum left behind by defeated fascism, it was not a counter-movement but the very same bureaucracy that regained dominion.

§12. It is one of the most urgent tasks of theory to investigate the full scope of bourgeoisification. Once again: bourgeoisification must be regarded as an objective class phenomenon: not as the result of a lack of revolutionary will among social democrats or their bourgeois consciousness, but as the result of the economic and political subsumption of a large section of the working class into the system of capital, or as a change in the shape of exploitation. The foundation of this investigation is provided by Marx’s allusions to surplus profits and the monopoly-position of determinate producers and spheres of production. The development leads further towards the direct fusion of the state with capital, on the one hand, and to the state-administrative regulation of exploitation, on the other, whereby the free labor contract is replaced by binding, public contractual agreements with collectives. These factors delineate the framework within which the economic integration of the working class into the capitalist state occurs. With this, the (quantitative and qualitative) share the working class has in the social product grows to such a degree that the opposition to capital transforms into extensive cooperation.

§13. In the course of this same development, the complete burden of exploitation falls upon class strata and groups which, because of their social position, are marginalized or alienated, “outsiders” to the integrated part of the working class and its circle of solidarity—and, in extreme cases, they are even “enemies.” They are the “unorganized,” “unskilled workers,” agricultural laborers, migrant workers; minorities, colonial and semi-colonial; prisoners, etc. Here, war must be seen as an essential element of the total capitalist process: the predatory reproduction of monopoly capital through the plundering of besieged countries and their proletariats; the creation of foreign concentrations of surplus-exploitation and absolute immiseration. The fact this predatory plundering utilizes the best means of modern technology and even affects highly developed capitalist countries strengthens the power of monopoly capital and its victorious state to an unprecedented extent.

§14. The economic and political identification of the integrated part of the working class with the capitalist state is accompanied by a no less significant “cultural” integration and identification. The principle of the right of that which exists,¹⁴ which, however poorly, nevertheless preserves and provides for the whole, applies to all spheres of social and individual life. The validity of this principle has been reinforced by the clear refutation of its opposite in the development of the Russian Revolution. The mere fact that the first successful socialist revolution has not, as yet, led to a freer and happier society has contributed a tremendous amount to reconciliation with capitalism and has objectively discredited the revolution. It has cast that which exists in a new light, and that which exists has understood precisely how to use this new light to its advantage.

§15. The phenomenon of cultural identification demands a discussion on broader foundations of the “cement”-problem.¹⁵ One of the most important factors here is the synchronization [Gleichschaltung] of the originally avant-garde, oppositional forces with the cultural apparatus of monopoly capital (the bent and application of psychoanalysis, modern art, sexuality, etc., in the labor-process and entertainment). Above all, it is the effect of the “cement” within the working class that must be investigated: “scientific management,” rationalization, the interest of the workers in increasing productivity (and thereby in the intensification of exploitation), and the strengthening of national sentiment.

§16. The communist strategy of party dictatorship is the answer to the bourgeoisification of the working class. If the revolution can only be the work of the working class, the working class which, however, has been alienated from this work through its integration into the system of capital, then the revolution presupposes the dictatorship of a revolution-willing “avant-garde” over the integrated part of the working class. The working class thereby becomes the object of the revolution, which only develop into its subject through the manipulation and organization of the party. The communist dictatorship over the proletariat becomes the precursor to the dictatorship of the proletariat.

§17. The sole alternative would be the objective retraction of bourgeoisification, the disintegration of the integrated through the unfolding contradictions of capitalism, which would then necessarily also erode the economic basis on which capital ensures integration.¹⁶ But capital will return to the stage in the coming crises as fascistizing or fascistic capital: by the high-point of such development, the working class of America will already have been largely disempowered, its organization broken down, and the military and police apparatus it must confront omnipresent. If England were to have autonomous development, anti-revolutionary trade-union socialism would establish a kind of middle-class society that would only make bourgeoisification more complete. France now confronts the possibility of all three kinds of development: fascistic, trade-union socialist, and Soviet. And Germany will remain suppressed as the object of all three of these forces for the foreseeable future. The unfolding contradictions of capitalism tend towards fascism or anti-revolutionary state socialism—not towards revolution.

(a) The trade-union socialism that prevails in England (and which prefigured in Germany) is not quite state socialism. The partial-socializations [Teilsozialisierungen] essentially undertaken on “economistic” grounds (increasing performance, rationalization, competitiveness, centralization of administration) or as political punishment have thus far left intact the decisive positions of capital (steel and iron industries, chemical industry in England). The stage of state socialism is only reached when the government takes over and legalizes its control over all industry, replacing private capital as owner. The government, the state—not the associated producers, the working class.

§18. In its social tendency, state socialism is anti-revolutionary. The power of disposal over the means of production is transferred over to the state, which then exercises such power through wage labor. The state has assumed the function of the “total capitalist.” Direct producers are no longer the masters of production (and thus are no longer masters of their fate) any more than they were under the system of liberal-democratic capitalism. They remain subjected to the means of production. The domination of human beings by mediation of the process of production continues to exist. The universality, in whose interest the planned economy is designed and carried out, is that of the existing apparatus of production, the existing form of the social position of labor (national and international), and existing social needs. These are not to be fundamentally changed; change will be the gradual consequence of planning. Thereby, however, state socialism upholds the foundations of class society. The abolition of classes, the transition into a free society, presupposes the change towards which state socialism aims. The temporal distinction demarcates a qualitative difference.

§19. The apparatus of production inherited from capitalism, which continues to operate in the existing form of the division of labor and wage labor, perpetuates existing forms of consciousness and needs. In turn, these perpetuate domination and exploitation, even when control over the apparatus of production is handed over to the state, i.e. to a universality that its itself one of domination and exploitation. Prior to the revolution, this universality is no factor of socialism: its domination is no more free and no more necessarily rational than that of capital. Socialism means a determinate universality: that of free human beings. Until unfolded communist society has become actual, the shape of universality can only be the domination of the revolutionary working class, because only this class can abolish all classes; only this class has the factual power to abolish the existing relations of production and the entire apparatus which corresponds to them. The first goal of the communist dictatorship of the proletariat (§16) must be the handing over of the apparatus of production to the proletariat: the Council Republic (Räte-Republik).

§20. This goal, and the whole politics associated with it, is not on the program of any communist party today. It is irreconcilable with social democracy. In the given situation, its elaboration is purely theoretical. This separation of theory and practice is demanded by practice itself, and remains oriented towards it. I.e., negatively speaking, the theory does not enter into any association with any anti-communist group or constellation. The communist parties of today are, and will remain, the sole anti-fascist power. Denunciation of them must be purely theoretical. The actualization of the theory is only possible through the communist parties and requires the help of the Soviet Union. This consciousness must be contained in each of its concepts. More than that: in each of its concepts, the denunciation of neo-fascism and social democracy must outweigh that of communist politics. The bourgeois freedom of democracy is better than totalitarian regimentation, but it is quite literally purchased at the price of decades of prolonged exploitation and the undermining of socialist freedom.

§21. The theory itself faces two main tasks: the analysis of bourgeoisification (§§12-15) and the construction of socialism. The reasons that moved Marx to refrain from such a construction must today take a backseat to consideration of the havoc wrought by false and semi-socialist constructions. The construction of socialism faces the task of confronting the two-phase-theory, or the distinction between socialism and communism, which dominates the discussion even today. This theory itself belongs to the period of bourgeoisification and social democracy, and is an attempt to integrate these phenomena into the original conception in order to recover the original conception against them. It presupposes an “emergence” of socialist from capitalist society and the continued influence of the latter in socialism. It accepts, for the first phase, the continued subjection of labor under the division of labor, the continued existence of wage-labor under the domination of the apparatus of production. It retains the orientation towards the necessity of technological progress. It can reinforce the dangerous conception that socialism is an enhanced form of capitalism, in terms of the development of the productive forces and “efficiency,” and moreover that socialist society must “outpace” capitalist society.

§22. The two-phase-theory discovered its historical justification in the struggle of the Soviet Union against the surrounding capitalist world, in the necessity of “building socialism in one country.” That is, it justifies the non-existence of socialism in such a situation. Furthermore, it is false. By accepting capitalist rationality, it deploys the weapons of the new society against the new society in the wings: capitalism has better technology and greater (technological) riches; this foundation enables it to provide a better life for people. Socialist society can only replicate and outpace this only if it renounces the costly experiment of the abolition of domination and replicates and outpaces capitalist society through the capitalistic development of production and the productivity of labor, i.e., in subordination of wage-labor to the apparatus of production. Rebus sic stantibus, the leap into socialism becomes a meaningless undertaking.

§23. By contrast, the two-phase-theory can only anticipate a shift in the future. Its value is very negligible for the European and the American workers in the grip of trade-unionist ideology: for here too, positivism has triumphed. And the value of this theory continues to diminish the longer the “first phase” lasts. The prolongation of this phase cultivates a spirit of subordination and conformity in the workers, something that ensures the perpetuating of the “first phase” and the banishing of all revolutionary attitudes. Under such circumstances, the end of the “first phase” and the transition into communism can only appear as a miracle or the work of external, alien forces. (Cf. §7)

§24. The discussion about the construction of socialism has to center less on the “emergence” of socialism from out of capitalism than the difference of socialism from capitalism. Socialist society must be presented as the determinate negation of the capitalist world. Neither the nationalization of the means of production, nor the improvement of their development, nor a higher standard of living constitute such a negation. Rather, this can only be the abolition of domination, exploitation, and labor.

§25. The socialization of the means of production, and the administration of the means of production by the “direct producers,” remains the precondition of socialism. This is the hallmark [of socialism]: wherever it is lacking, there is no socialist society. But the socialized means of production are still those of capitalism: they are domination and exploitation objectified. This is not only meant in a purely economic sense. Whatever was produced by them bore the stamp of capital: it is also imprinted upon consumer goods. Certainly, a machine is only a machine; the process of wage labor first transforms it into capital. But as capital, the given means of production have reshaped the needs, thoughts, and feelings of human beings, determining the horizon and content of their freedom. Socialization as such changes neither this horizon nor this content: if production continues unabated, what was prior to socialization will be reproduced afterwards too. The habituated needs operate within the new state of affairs and fall back onto socialized production. The socialization of the means of production only becomes socialism insofar as the mode of production itself becomes the negation of the capitalistic mode.

§26. The first step is the abolition of wage labor. The bureaucratic, state-run administration of the means of production does not abolish wage labor. This only obtains when the producers themselves manage production directly, i.e., determine precisely what is produced, how much is produced, and how long production continues. This step, under the conditions of modern economics, is very likely synonymous with a transition to anarchy and disintegration. And it is precisely this anarchy and disintegration that is, most likely, the sole path to breaking capitalist reproduction under socialism, to create the interregnum or even the vacuum in which the changing of needs and the emergence of freedom can take place. Anarchy would announce the abolition of domination; disintegration would render inoperative the power of the apparatus of production over human beings. At the very least, this would present the greatest chance for a total negation of class society.

§27. If the workers themselves take production into their own hands (and do not immediately subordinate themselves to a new bureaucracy of domination), they might very well first abolish labor-slavery, i.e., reduce labor time. And subsequently they may also resolve to produce only what seems important to them according to differing contexts. Thus would automatically dissolve the national economy in its integrated shape, the apparatus of production would disintegrate into individual sectors, and the technical machinery would continue to be exploited in manifold ways. A regressive movement would take place, which would not only detach the national economy from the world economy, but would also bring impoverishment and hardship to the country in question. But such catastrophe would indicate that the old society has actually ceased to function: this cannot be avoided.

§28. This would mean that the leap into socialism would mean a leap into a lower standard of living than had been achieved by capitalist countries. Socialist society would thus begin at a technologically “antiquated” stage of civilization. The initial criterion of socialist society is not technological—it is progress in the actualization of freedom of the producers, which is in turn expressed as a qualitative change in needs. The will to abolish domination and exploitation appears as will to anarchy.

§29. The beginning of socialism at an “antiquated” stage of civilization is not “backwardness.” It is distinguished from the beginning of Soviet society by the fact that the setback is no economic necessity (conditioned by the technical level of production), but rather an act of revolutionary freedom, a conscious rupturing of continuity. The extant apparatus of production and distribution is to be suspended by the workers—perhaps even partially destroyed—, not exploited by them. If the proletariat cannot simply “take over” the state apparatus, this is because its whole structure is an apparatus of oppression, and the same applies to the modern apparatus of production. Its structure demands a specialized and differentiated bureaucracy that necessarily perpetuates domination, as well as mass production, which necessarily leads to standardization and manipulation (regimentation).

§30. The problem of preventing a state socialist bureaucracy must be regarded as an economic one. Bureaucracy has its social roots in the (technological) structure of the apparatus of production; the elimination of its domination-based form presupposes the change of this structure. A universal socialist education would certainly make specialized functions interchangeable with one another and, thereby, break the bureaucratic form of domination, but such education cannot even occur under an installed bureaucracy of domination. Rather, it must precede the functioning bureaucracy—not replace it. Such education is only possible if the domination-based apparatus of production is handed over to the producers for their “experimentation.” The rational authority which must guide this experimentation must remain under the direct control of the producers themselves.

§31. The revolutionary disintegration of the capitalist apparatus of production will also disintegrate the working-class organizations which have become a constitutive part of this apparatus. The trade unions are not only organs of the existing order, but also organs for its preservation in the new forms of state socialism and Sovietism. Their interest is bound up with the functioning of the apparatus of production, in which they have become (second-class) partners. They may exchange one master for another, but they will always need one with whom they share an interest in the management of the organized working class.

§32. Whereas the trade unions, in their traditional structure and organization, constitute a revolution-hostile force, the political workers’ party remains the necessary subject of the revolution. In the original Marxian conception, the party played no decisive role. Marx assumed that the proletariat, in recognizing its own interests, would be driven to the point of revolutionary action as soon as the conditions for revolution were given. In the meantime, monopoly capitalism has discovered means and paths to economically, politically, and culturally synchronize the majority of the proletariat (§§12-15). The abolition of this synchronization before the revolution is impossible. Development has confirmed the correctness of Lenin’s conception of the avant-garde party as the subject of the revolution. It is true that the communist parties of today are not this subject, but it is just as true that it is only they who could become it. Only in the theory of the communist parties is the memory of the revolutionary tradition still living, which might once again serve as a reminder of the revolutionary goal; only their situation is still outside of capitalist society enough that it might once again become a revolutionary situation.

§33. The political task would thus consist in the restoration of revolutionary theory within the communist parties and working towards the practice that would correspond with this. At present, the task seems impossible. But perhaps the relative independence from Soviet dictatorship this task requires is possible in the communist parties of Western Europe and Western Germany.

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II. On the freedom of spirit and its threats, especially in the Soviet sphere of influence (ca. 1949/50). Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno

Though for close to a century, freedom was taken for granted, and seemed only restricted indirectly by the power of certain social relations, this illusory semblance has today been shattered, and individual freedom suspended directly in the name of certain institutional powers. Of course, not even the new, totalitarian shape of unfreedom can dispense with the concept of freedom entirely. The development of human and technological forces has progressed to such an extent that no one dares try persuade anyone else that, on account of their inborn inadequacy, they ought to surrender themselves in tutelage to authority, nor that obedience and the renunciation of rational self-determination are god-given rights. Rather, the restrictions imposed on human beings are themselves carried out in the name of freedom—only now, it is the freedom of a more or less abstract collective, having become autonomous from the individual. Even the National Socialists held a “Parteitag der Freiheit,” and in so doing one-sidedly highlighted a moment which, it must be conceded, cannot be separated from the origin of the bourgeois conception of freedom—namely, that of the nation, apart from those who compose the nation and its rational interests. Throughout the area more or less openly controlled by the Russian dictatorship, people believe, though none dare speak it openly, that the condition of unfreedom there ought to be presented as one of freedom realized.

The thought, originally conceived by German Idealism, that freedom is not exhausted by the removal of the fetters imposed upon the individual by the absolutist state, nor in any mere inwardness, a state of consciousness, but rather involves the material foundations of the social life-process and the transition towards the real self-determination of society. Though they may themselves only ever experience the reason of planning as compulsion, deprivation, and exploitation, the more or less rational organization of social labor is put before human beings as if it were freedom incarnate. The motive of wresting freedom from the formalism of legal norms through the creation of its economic basis results in the equation of such economic functions as such with the level of freedom, while the totality of human life remains caught in a condition of unfreedom, however expected.

I believe it would be enough just to utter this thought within the reach of Russian myrmidons and the critic would lose, if not his life, then his freedom in the most literal sense. The simple consideration that in the totalitarian sphere insisting on freedom would be tantamount to losing the last of that very freedom is enough to demonstrate what ‘freedom’ is all about over there. That freedom is thought in the Western world but not fully actual is warped into the pretext for the idolization of the obdurateness of actuality alienated from thought. As the notion of the transcendent right of hierarchy can no longer be made palatable, the existing relations as such, regardless of the reason [Vernunft] within them, are enthroned as the highest power, and that which is positive is made its own meaning and sense.

Perhaps this is the reason why their forays into the sphere of culture, the censorship exercised by Soviet administrators, are so extraordinarily difficult to accept. One hears from time to time that when the living standards of human beings are bettered and hunger disappears from the world, it will no longer matter whether everyone is permitted to write, paint, or compose as they please. But that this is not permitted is precisely an expression of the fact that the much-vaunted substructure itself is not quite in order; what is suppressed is precisely what the thesis of freedom actualized measures according to its own measure, and this confers an incomparably greater weight upon every rebellious intellectual impulse or stirring of spirit than it might perhaps deserve on its own merits. While no one accepts the decreed culture in complete earnestness, and the few intellectuals who’ve managed to slip through the cracks were only permitted to slip through at all as an alibi for the Western ones, every unregulated impulse, every dissonance, every spontaneous expression of suffering is cited. Everything should be positive, vacuous harmony, confirmation of existence.

There is no need for psychoanalysis, which is just as amiss on the other side of the curtain, to arouse the suspicion that any independent thought, any utterance lacking official approval, any line which does not merely ape the facade of that which exists might expose that the untruth of that facade itself. Spirit must therefore not be free, for as free it would express that which human beings are not; spirit must therefore not be negative, for it would otherwise bear witness to the negativity of social existence itself. It goes without saying that the weakness of all that is done in the name of freedom in the West today is cleverly being taken advantage of all over.

There, cultural tyranny camouflages itself behind the critique of bourgeois individualism and its ever-advancing decadence. Even if one had fewer illusions about the late phase of individualistic culture, it would be all the more illusory to imagine that this would allow for the individual’s act of will to transform itself in the name of the law by virtue of conviction alone. Decision is necessary but not sufficient for truth. Anything of substance produced by an intellectual or artist is mapped out in advance according to the condition of their own conscious and unconscious being, within which the entire force of the procession of history is translated into what is possible and not possible for them. In the well-meaning advice to embrace reason and abandon the extreme of subjectivism, one can detect a note of that dread in totalitarian states triggered by those who still react of their own accord instead of blindly conforming to orders.

For nothing could be falser than the confusion of subjectivity with what is individually contingent, purely private. A single true consciousness, a single untouched subject who refuses to be duped, is not less objective than a thousand false, deluded ones; it is certainly more objective than the Ukasse hatched by the Moscow hierarchy. As a knowing being, the subject may knowingly take part in an objectivity which is blindly imposed upon others imprisoned by terror and propaganda; and such critical insight affects practice in turn, which might, perhaps, help avert catastrophe and actually bring freedom into the world. It is up to spirit today for all its powerlessness to swing that which has been banished far beneath the surface back into appearance and, in so doing, resist the surface, the pressure of the facade. Were spirit to abandon such determinate contradictions, the life of the mind would be reduced to a pointless game. It must not cover up social malaise [Unwesen] through a discipline borrowed from the frictionless course of the process of production, but must illuminate it by virtue of its own discipline. This is the real meaning of freedom of spirit today, however restricted this freedom might be by the overwhelming violence of that which exists—everywhere.

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III. Horkheimer—Fragments on the Prospects of Revolutionary Theory (ca. 1950).

The Main Difficulty of Philosophy Today.

The main difficulty of philosophy today: spirit, thinking, no longer has a social function—so far as that means the confrontation between individual and world. It’s not only that no one else needs the philosopher anymore, but that the philosopher is himself just another without any need for philosophy. Lukács, for instance, addresses the West merely as a propagandist. Heidegger has no function either; he could pass for a high-level manager of a publishing house. Writing belongs to circulation.¹⁷

Revolutionaries Today.

The revolutionaries of today are not opposed to domination, but in favor of the one which, in their opinion, has the better prospects. For them, truth is not the criterion of the future kingdom; rather, the kingdom of the future is their criterion for truth. But we must ask: how is this kingdom still distinguishable from heaven when the organ for making such distinctions no longer exists?¹⁸

On the Limits of Marxianizing Speech Today.

[…] It is therefore hopeless, in light of the political mode of significance the philosophical word once possessed in the time of the proletariat, to fall back into Marxianizing speech, for there is no longer such a proletariat nor party to whom the word might be addressed. Pure philosophy belongs to the pure bourgeoisie. What language, philosophical theory, style ought to be depends as much on its role in the world as logic depends on its content. The enlighteners and their public were transformed into the theoreticians and their party. The uniformists of today, for all their heroic precursors, cannot retire into the pages of progressive journals; if they wish to speak, they must make a determination about the relationship between thought and addressee, between the desired function of their language and what is actually said, with an even greater degree of consciousness than the authors of the [Communist] Manifesto. When there is no party to whom we can speak, or the party is supposed to be constituted by what is said, neither speaking nor said can be left to chance. The bourgeoisie could afford to do so; they still lived in a culture. Today, we can no longer have this kind of trust; we cannot get rid of the moment of praxis in theory.¹⁹

The Fate of Revolutionary Books.

The Bible is a revolutionary book. In history, social injustice and fanaticism have dominion, yet the Old Testament proclaims justice, the New Testament love. Dangerous passages are legion. Already the Inquisition forbade reading them, and wherever a totalitarian state had to manage thinking subjects rather than illiterates, it replaced the independent doctrine with an official version, or simply restricted its dissemination. But the official version is always just adjusted to that which exists, whether the words are those of Josaiah or Jesus, to say nothing of Karl Marx.²⁰

Reification and the docta ignorantia.

When we say that in a split society the subject is split as well and that there is therefore no truth, it is because we see human beings under the aspect of their inhumanity (reification), from the same sector in which we are enclosed (though we may view them with pity), and nature under the aspect of total domination; so we maintain the ideal of objectivity and completeness which has itself matured within this society, which remains connected to the purposes of domination and relies on them. In light of this antinomy within the concept of truth, there are three possible ways out. First, the thought that subjective reason is, despite everything, the vehicle of truth. Second, that once knowledge reaches its highest point—when it has been fulfilled—it will know itself to be an instrument of domination and dissolve itself accordingly. The third possibility, the dialectical, perhaps coincides with the second, the docta ignorantia.²¹

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Byon Yeongwon. Spirit of the Avant-garde. 1959.

1. In: MHA Na [565], S. 245r-267r. Author’s translation. The 23-page typescript is simply titled “I. Teil.”

2. Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno: “Über die Freiheit des Geistes und ihre Bedrohungen, besonders im sowjetischen Einflußbereich.” In: MHA Na [819], S. [71]-[75]. Author’s translation.

Cf. “Politik und Soziales (1950).” In: Max Horkheimer, Gesammelte Schriften, Band 8. Edited by Gunzelin Schmid Noerr (Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 1985), 38-52.

3. Rolf Wiggershaus (1994): “However, after a meeting with Horkheimer at which it was agreed that each of them would write a draft for the theoretical orientation of the journal, Marcuse was the only one who actually produced a text—at the beginning of 1947. Consisting of nearly a dozen pages of typescript, it sketched out his ideas on a theory of the current position, based on the post-war situation. Nearly two years later, Horkheimer wrote to Marcuse that he had decided to write a draft, together with Adorno, in the same style as Marcuse's ‘theses.’ There was already a mass of material to work from. ‘The difficulty lies in the fact that we do not want to restrict ourselves to political aspects. It should at the same time become a kind of philosophical programme.’ This philosophical programme was never produced, and republication of the journal, discussion of which had virtually ceased in the meantime, was never achieved. There were two fundamental reasons for the dilatory way in which the question of republishing the journal was handled: the fear of exposing themselves to attack, and the fear of not being able to fill their own journal with articles agreeing with the views of the Horkheimer circle. When the Institute’s journal ceased publication, it was not so much for financial reasons; it was really because Horkheimer and Adorno were not satisfied with the contributions. Marcuse’s February 1947 draft must have shocked Adorno, and Horkheimer even more. Admittedly, it was an internal paper, intended to clarify their own views. But it discussed political matters so directly that it must have seemed to Horkheimer and Adorno, reading it, that turning it into publishable ideas would be virtually impossible. […] This global political diagnosis [of the theses] corresponded to Horkheimer's and Adorno's views. The plea for a defense of ‘orthodox Marxist doctrine,’ and the uninhibited use of the words ‘socialism,’ ‘communism’ and ‘capitalism,’ however, was certain to displease the authors of the Philosophical Fragments in two ways: first, because in their view an uncompromising profession of belief in orthodox Marxism was equivalent to masochism; secondly, because they were convinced that the principal elements of a critique of society had in the meantime come to differ from those of Marxist doctrine.” In: The Frankfurt School: Its History, Theories, and Political Significance. Translated by Michael Robertson (Polity, 1994), 387-388.

And: “A policy such as that drafted by Marcuse for the republication of the journal seemed to Horkheimer and Adorno not merely rash but also too traditional. In spite of their unorthodox content, Marcuse's remarks were in fact purely orthodox in their implications. He declared that the phenomenon of cultural identification necessitated a more extensive discussion of the problem of social ‘glue’—particularly in relation to the working class. He emphasized that the full burden of exploitation was falling more and more on fringe groups and foreigners, on ‘outsiders’ who were not incorporated into the working class, on the ‘“unorganized,” “unskilled workers,” agricultural workers, transient workers; minorities, colonial and semi-colonial groups; prisoners, etc.’ He did make indirect statements that were fully in line with Horkheimer and Adorno’s position—for example, that the theory could not be linked to any anti-communist group—but then he observed: “The Communist Parties are, and will remain, the sole anti-fascist power. […]” Horkheimer and Adorno no longer held such views at all. In their eyes, a breathing-space in the course of historical development did not primarily mean prolonged exploitation and a delay in the arrival of socialism. Instead, it meant above all a chance for reflection and work on the theory. They were no longer able to see the theory, for the foreseeable future, as a progressive force; instead, they saw it at the very most as a force that could stimulate thought. Marcuse criticized the two-phase theory which distinguished between socialism as the first stage and communism as the final stage, and put forward the view that a belief in the necessity of technical progress overlooked the fact that capitalism would always have the better technology and that the socialist countries’ only chance of success lay in the experiment of abolishing class domination and making the leap into socialism. He then argued the case for a soviet republic, and welcomed anarchy, disintegration and catastrophe as the only means through which, in an act of revolutionary freedom, change would be achieved in the class structure of the productive apparatus and in human needs. Precisely this fusion of a motif corresponding to their own views—a sudden improvement in human nature—with the political concepts of the soviet republic and anarchy was bound to shock Horkheimer and Adorno. It made explicit a link which they wanted merely not to exclude. Against those who concluded from bad conditions that better ones were impossible, explicitly or implicitly referring to a pessimistic anthropology, Horkheimer and Adorno insisted that better conditions were possible. But they were not prepared either to designate or to recognize any political or social organization or grouping as embodying the possibility of improvement. They preferred to build on individuals.” In: Ibid., 390-391.

4. In: MHA Na [565], S. 225r. Author’s translation.

5. Horkheimer to Marcuse, 3/13/1947: “By the way, the paper I delivered in Eugene on the Enlightenment was received with a warmth I have never before experienced in America. It seems that some people are beginning to find something worthwhile in what we have to say. [...] This is also the reason why my sketch for the theoretical orientation of the Zeitschrift has been left unfinished. I began working on it in January, but I couldn’t continue. Because my free time is currently devoted to working through Löwenthal’s book with him, I probably won’t be able to resume my work on the sketch until April. I have yet to receive the announced first installment of your own notes. I’m very curious about them, and perhaps I can add my own remarks to them here and there. As for the Zeitschrift itself, despite our frequent reminders, we still haven’t received a satisfactory offer [from a publisher.] [...] In your opinion, will it be impossible for us to publish the Zeitschrift in Germany for the foreseeable future? I know well that, in addition to many other difficulties, the complexity of navigating the censors is an obstacle. And yet, one of the Zeitschrift’s primary tasks is to convey our thoughts to the German-speaking public. …” In: MHA Na [565], S. 223r. Author’s translation.

6. So far, I’ve traced the plans back to Summer, 1946. The planning was much less a one-sided dream of Marcuse’s than Wiggershaus seems to imply:

Horkheimer to Marcuse, 7/24/1946: “We have pursued the thought of republishing the Zeitschrift further since we last spoke. Löwenthal is taking lead on the negotiations. If the costs are manageable, we will probably be able to publish in Holland in the foreseeable future. For the time being however we are still hindered in our decisions by the fact it is still prohibited to import printed matter into Germany. Do you believe this will change soon? Is there still a possibility you will be traveling to Europe for a short period? If you do take such a trip, you might be able to gather information and conduct negotiations that would be not unimportant for our future. As for the tempo of development in the next few years, we are of the same mind.” In: MHA Na [565], 275r-276r.

Horkheimer to Marcuse, 8/30/1946: “As far the Zeitschrift is concerned, in the last few days I’ve heard there are plans in motion to launch a German journal for social sciences in Switzerland. The American representative is Schumpeter, the Swiss is Salin. Could you determine whether this is in fact the case, the source of funding, and whether the whole has any support in government circles? I am still of the conviction that publication of a good journal with German as its basic language is among our most important tasks. However, if conditions are such that the journal will essentially be published outside of the public eye and be only a supplementary activity, we should think twice before undertaking the effort.” In: MHA Na [565], S. 272r-273r. Author’s translation.

Horkheimer to Marcuse, 10/28/1946: “The Zeitschrift must be published once again. As you will know, we have already taken first steps to come to an agreement with a publisher to this end. The way I see it, the Zeitschrift should feature articles in German, English, French, and perhaps even Italian, and appear in print three times every year in the same format as before. As soon as I’m clearer about the details, I’ll write you again. For now, I want to ask that when you get a chance, you let me know what you think the Deutschland-Heft should look like. It would be nice to have an English or French essay in it, but who should be considered for this? Wahl’s mode of thinking, for example, would undoubtedly be far removed from ours. Perhaps there are some younger people we could approach. —Hopefully, the offers will seem acceptable to the publishers we’ve already approached (for starters, Querido and Oprecht).” In: MHA Na [565], S. 269r. Author’s translation.

7. Horkheimer to Löwenthal, 10/3/1947. In: MHGS, Bd. 17 (1996), 903-904. English in original.

8. Marcuse to Horkheimer, 11/15/1946: “Because I’m superstitious, I would prefer not to go into details about my suggestions for a Deutschland-Heft just yet, but to say a few things just to give you a sense of my idea: The material at our disposal is comprehensive: economics, philosophy, political theory and practice, law, “reorganization of culture,” etc. Not only the official party programs, but also internal party discussions, speeches delivered before meetings of party functionaries, laws, critiques, philosophical pamphlets, etc. Dividing the material between us should not be too difficult: one could select a central problem, in the shape it appears in the discussions, from each of the representative fields. For instance, in economics: conflicting perspectives on the forms of “deconcentration,” partial-socialization [Teilsozialisierung], planning. Further: the role of the organized labor movement in “boosting” the economy. In literature: the endless revival of classics (the function of repetition more generally). In philosophy: the proclamations of Herr Jaspers. Political theory: the social democratic and communist “renewals” of Marxism, etc. Other problems could be picked out just as well, for they can all be traced directly back to one common core. When the time comes for it, I would be able to review the material and send you more detailed overviews and suggestions. On the question of “outside” contributors: naturally, I never thought of Jean Wahl as a contributor: he’s impossible, and has nothing to do with us. I would perhaps suggest Merleau-Ponty, one of the leading left-wing existentialists, or Henri Lefebvre, Charles Bettelheim, or Pierre Naville. As for the lesser-known young authors: Stefano, who recently produced an excellent translation of Hegel. As for the Germans in Paris: Fritz Meyer. The grand Sartre might be won over by sales considerations to contribute an essay. After reading his dispute over historical materialism in Temps Modernes, I don’t think he’d be an embarrassment.” In: MHA Na [565], S. 268r. Author’s translation.

9. See: Marcuse to Horkheimer, 10/18/1946: “I have talked with numerous people, ranging from Karl Mannheim to Richard Löwenthal and Rudolf Schlesinger in London, and from Raymond Aron to Jean Wahl and several of the young “existentialists” and surrealists in Paris. All of them asked me why in heaven’s name the Zeitschrift does not come out again. It was—so they said—the only and the last publication which discussed the real problems on a really “avant-guardistic” level. The general disorientation and isolation now is so great that the need for the reissue of the Zeitschrift is greater than ever before. Even if the Zeitschrift could not be officially introduced into Germany, the public outside Germany is large enough and important enough to justify its appearance. In this case, the best solution would be a publication with English, French, and German articles—as it was done in the last issues. But if this should not work out, even a publication in English would be sufficient, because the interested readers know either enough English or will have translated the articles into German. Thus far their opinion. I have little to add. You know that I have since long felt the need for a continuation of the Zeitschrift. After my experience in Europe, I just feel that you simply have the responsibility to speak and to continue the tradition set by the Zeitschrift. The form is of course open to discussion. My idea is still that of a Sonderheft on German problems (which is urgently desired in this country). As a mere point of departure, I would suggest that we analyze the various political, economic, and cultural programs and “Richtlinien” now being circulated in Germany by the major German parties. I shall put the material at our disposal, likewise my time and labor power. The material will provide a concrete enough framework for the discussion. My efforts to persuade you have so far been unsuccessful. If you would have been with me, you would no longer hesitate. Do decide now, and positively!” In: MHA Na [565], S. 270r. English in original.

10. Horkheimer to Marcuse, 12/29/1948: “Among other matters, I’ve decided to finally write a sketch [Entwurf] of the same kind as your theses with Teddie. There is already a considerable amount of material we could use for this. The difficulty is that we don’t want to limit ourselves to the political alone. It should at the same time be a kind of philosophical program.” In: MHA Na [565], S. 160r. For Marcuse’s reply, see: Ibid., S. 159r.

11. The first three theses are in quotations in the original.

12. “revolution-ready”: [revolutionsfähige]

13. All italicized sentences or parts of sentences are underlined for emphasis in the original.

14. “principle of the right of that which exists”: [Satz von dem Recht des Bestehenden]

15. “cement”-problem: [“Kitt”-Problems]. For more on the “cement”-problem, see:

J.E. Morain, “Analytic Social Psychology as Critical Social Theory. A Reconstruction of Erich Fromm’s Early Work.” In: Margin Notes, Volume 1. CTWG blog: https://ctwgwebsite.github.io/blog/2025/MarginNotes_1_4/

16. “the disintegration of the integrated”: [das Zerreissen der Eingliederung]

17. In: MHA Na [808], S. 13. Author’s translation.

18. In: Ibid., S. 28.

19. In: Ibid., S. 16.

20. In: Ibid., S. 37.

21. In: Ibid., S. 13.