Max Horkheimer: "Thomas More" (1948).
[Movie Pitch to Fritz Lang]
Editor’s Introduction: Self-Portrait of the Humanist as Utopian Socialist in Barbarism Triumphant.
The name ‘Thomas More’ rarely comes up in discussions of the philosophical predecessors of critical theory, let alone as a figure in the personal canon of any critical theorist. Yet, in the ISR’s unpublished report on its activities from 1938, “An Institute for Social Research: Idea, Activity, and Program,”1 Thomas More is named as one of the exemplars of the unity of social theory—including empirical social research and theoretical construction—and social philosophy in the grand, critical and self-critical humanist lineage of Western social thought, taking his place alongside Plato, Spinoza, Hegel, which culminates in Marx, Freud, and, of course, critical theory.
Throughout western history, in antiquity, in the Middle Ages, and in the first centuries of the modern era, the theory of society was closely bound up with philosophy. We need only point to Condorcet and Adam Smith. The theory of society remained a task of the philosophers long after the natural sciences had become independent disciplines. This personal union expresses a real relationship. Philosophy deals with the meaning and destiny of human life, with the conditions of human happiness, with justice and injustice, with freedom and slavery. While the study of human society retained its ties with philosophy, the structure of these sciences was not determined primarily by technical and vocational needs but equally by those interests which are the interests of all humanity. We do not imply that Plato or Thomas More or Spinoza or Hegel described the relationships of their day incorrectly, or that they were deluded by wishful thinking; their knowledge is no less valid than the knowledge of modern science. Nor do we imply that arbitrary concepts were drawn into their investigations from above, in the way in which some modern sociological systems seek to force their abstract distinctions and definitions upon empirical social science. The content of concepts like justice and freedom is not to be construed a priori but is determined within the context of the tendencies and interests which operate in all human history and without which neither individual nor social activity is comprehensible. Since the perception and organization of phenomena in the decisive philosophical systems of the past were directed less by the needs of daily life, which are external to the process of thought, than by ideas which those thinkers recognized as the highest goal of mankind, their theories were never lost in matters of subordinate importance. The interest in man and his potentiality permeated them and gave them substance. For that reason their writings took a critical and progressive position to the given reality.2
While Horkheimer’s earlier treatment of Thomas More in his 1930 “Beginnings of Bourgeois Philosophy of History” is almost unsparingly critical, in the tradition of the scientific socialist critique of utopian socialism,3 we know from letters exchanged with Löwenthal, unofficial librarian of the dissolved ISR, that Horkheimer continues to read Thomas More throughout the 1940s.4 Horkheimer is particularly interested in the controversial reception of Thomas More in interwar Germany by Hermann Oncken, who reads Thomas More as a nationalist Realpolitiker.5 Shlomo Avineri (1962), in his critical reconstruction of Oncken’s Realpolitiker reading of More, notes that Oncken’s focus on More’s ‘utopian’ doctrine of war presents the reader of Utopia with a true problem:
This is a heavy problem facing every author of a Utopia, as once Utopia enters into any sort of relation with other states, it enters the non-Utopian realm of reality. How is it to behave? As a sheep among wolves? As a more cunning—because more rationally-organised—wolf than the others? Both alternatives are self-destroying.6
For Avineri, Oncken’s real contribution to the reception of Utopia is, therefore, raising the problem of “the paradox of war [as] an immanent trait of political Utopias,” notwithstanding Oncken’s particular biases against the British and the Bolsheviks,7 or the historical particularities of the “German ‘power interpretation’” of More’s work in pre- and post-Nazi Germany: “Here as in other instances, the image of Utopia is inseparably bound up with the image the author has of his own political mores.”8 In Horkheimer’s case, this is the image of revolutionary socialism. As expresses the same paradox in “The Authoritarian State” (1942): “The revolutionary movement negatively reflects the situation which it is attacking”; moreover: “Whatever seeks to extend itself under domination runs the danger of reproducing it.”9
In 1948, Horkheimer writes a pitch for a movie titled “Thomas More,” of which several drafts (a first sketch in German, then several in English) are extant in the Max-Horkheimer-Archiv (hereafter: MHA).10 The pitch has to my knowledge never been published, but it has been referenced in several works of secondary literature on the relationship between exiled German intellectuals living in California and Hollywood. Though there is no information in the archive about the intended addressee, the process of composition, or the original motivation for “Thomas More,” Saviero Giovacchini (1998) identifies the addressee as Fritz Lang, to whom Horkheimer sent the pitch attached to a letter, dated 3/30/1948, which is extant in the AFI’s Fritz Lang archive.11 In another article, Laurent Jeanpierre (2008)12 touches on a crucial motivation in Horkheimer and Adorno’s ongoing engagements with mass culture, and in their continued collaboration and friendship with fellow California expat William Dieterle (1893-1972) in particular: it contains “an element of utopia” in the consumer’s interest in consumption at the expense of production, for, as he quotes a letter from Horkheimer to Löwenthal in 1942, “in utopia, production does not play the decisive role [...] it is the land of plenty.”13 For both Jeanpierre and Giovacchini, when Horkheimer invokes the abundant ‘parallels’ between More’s time and ‘our own,’ the historical comparison extends much deeper than the conflicts which play out on the world stage, since the standpoint of the postwar critical theorist, already sensitive to the intensifying pressures of the world torn apart by the power-politics of the Cold War, is at stake.14 In the self-conception of Adorno and Horkheimer, the critical theorist is obligated to hold themselves in suspension between, and at, extremes: to the one side, their critical-theoretical immanence to and institutional implication within the post-war world, increasingly bisected by power blocs and escalating into new barbarism; to the other, their unbridled demand for a better world as the possibilities for transcending this world, which once seemed just out of reach, recede further and further beyond. In the untenable position of Thomas More—‘a man for all seasons’—Horkheimer finds a mirror image of his own.
Rather than the conscious acceptance of an involuntary Stoicism, Horkheimer seems here to find himself in the curious situation he had already identified in the case of Marx himself in the first of the 1945 ‘National Socialism and Philosophy’ lectures:
Individuals are to study history; the only real, not ideological power, the only real God. Fortunately history brings about the happiness of the majority, thus our interests as humanitarians and our findings as scientists click i.e. Scientific Socialism. If we were only humanitarians, we would simply be madmen, utopists, impotent if history were against us.
Marx, Horkheimer remarks, may simply have been lucky: “[Marx] was fortunate in that his liberal ideals clicked with the trend of history.” The scientific socialist assured of their synchronicity with the objective tendencies of history may wake up one morning and find themselves a utopian instead. Nevertheless, being abandoned by the trend of history and rendered impotent does not entail the abandonment of Marx, nor even of Marxism:
Marx’s theory of revolution. Is it science? or philosophy? It is the same tendency as in Plato: insight which provides you with a yardstick indicating what you should do.
Marx, for all his apparent ‘trust in history,’ was never one to defer to the force of the greater necessity over the force of the greater rightness.15 As Horkheimer wrote in 1943:
[T]he concept of the objective tendency is perverted into a means of proving the victor right, a mis-recognition of the most crucial point: that [Marx’s] theory and practice are opposed not merely to the most recent injustice, but to the injustice which history itself is. […] Marx did not combat utopianism out of deference to ‘objective tendency,’ but because utopia appeared within reach to him on the basis of this very objective tendency. …16
Even in March of 1948, Horkheimer has still not abandoned the impossible post—previously occupied by Socrates, Thomas More, and Karl Marx—which he described to Adorno in a letter of consolation from 1941:
The principle of civilization that we know from history is identical to domination. Their separation is the new puzzle, and we don't know whether and how it will be solved. These theoretical relationships should be preserved even in our reactions that are conditioned by sensitivity. Nil admirari — if one should happen to experience the living conditions of society oneself instead of always only the others doing so. The members of the masses are called "idiots" because nothing is left for them but admirari: respect or hatred, as opposed to the thinking that is found among equals, among patricians. We, of course, find ourselves in an intermediate state that is appropriate for neither one nor the other. Perhaps this was always the situation of theory — even for Marx…17
Thus, “the dramatic core” Horkheimer proposes for the unmade Thomas More—“the struggle between worldly interest, ulterior motives, craving for success, (...) and the love for truth and science, incorruptibility and devotion”—casts Horkheimer himself as the protagonist, reviving Thomas More the Utopian, man of the world and man of conscience, as a pseudonym for the humanist socialist amidst barbarism triumphant.
The following transcription is assembled from the four variants (lettered a.-d.) of the text in the MHA: ‘d.’ is the shortest, the original German sketch, ‘c.’ is the first English draft, and ‘b.’ is nearly identical to ‘a.’, which Horkheimer sent Lang in the letter of 3/30/1948. Below the pitch, I’ve included a translation of a previously unpublished fragment “On Cinema” (“Über Kino”) Horkheimer wrote in the late 1940s, filed under “Verschiedene Notizen, 1947” in MHA Na [807], where it appears twice, once as a handwritten note (S. 86) and once as a typed manuscript (S. 84), and seems to have been subject to minimal revision. The fragment is important because it lays the basis for further theorization, via negativa, of a positive proposal for intervention in mass culture—specifically in the creation of film, a long-standing preoccupation of Horkheimer’s work for the AJC in the 1940s.
THOMAS MORE. (3/30/1948)
It is difficult to understand why authors, playwrights and screenwriters up to now have passed up one of the richest materials in history: the life of Thomas More. His outstanding personality and his dramatic career have put their indelible dye on modern history in one of its most decisive phases. Thomas More belongs to that group of intellectual personages whose influences upon the beginnings of modern Western civilization cannot be overemphasized.18 He is the central figure of English humanism during the Renaissance, the age of momentous inventions and discoveries, the period of Leonardo, Dürer, Hölbein, Luther, Calvin, Erasmus, Montaigne and Machiavelli. Yet, in contrast to most of them he is so very much aware of the destructive force of the rising business culture in general and of the “ugly brutality of the earliest period of commercialism”19 in particular that he has been called “rather the last of the old than the first of the new.”20 As Henry VIII’s humanistic chancellor during the English reformation, More’s influence was so tremendous that he was at the same time venerated, loved and feared by the most opposite political, religious, and scientific persuasions. The scientists of today still recognize him as an astounding philologist, historian, jurist and philosopher; literature honors him as the founder of the exotic novel; social reformers claim him as the first great critic of society and a political pioneer; conservatives see in him a martyr of venerable institutions; revolutionists refer to him as the prophet of a perfect society. The historians of the protestant movement have criticized him because of his conflict with the new religion, still they commemorate and honor him as an unassailable heroic figure. His immediate and actual importance in regard to the Catholic Church is such that in 1935 the late Pope Pius canonized him.
Here are some of the elements why Thomas More would make a most promising topic for a motion picture.
The similarity of More’s period with ours as a period of transition, the pertinence of his ideas at a moment at which the humanistic heritage is challenged by neo-barbarism, the historical significance of the political drama in which More was involved, the interesting relation between UTOPIA and More’s other writings, his personality and, as mentioned above, his personal life. Even his scholarly biographers are tempted to write as though they were to draft the first outline of a plot. The following paragraph is a quote from R.W. Chambers, professor of the University College in London:
“We have, then, four main characters — More and his wife, Roper (More’s son-in-law and first biographer) and his wife — acting upon each other. Behind them we have the background of the world, the flesh, and Henry VIII. The world: represented by the Duke of Norfolk, scandalized when he came to dine with More at Chelsea, to find him in church, singing in the choir, with a surplice on his back. Norfolk protested, as he went arm in arm with his host to the Great House, ‘God’s body, God’s body, my Lord Chancellor, a parish clerk, a parish clerk! You dishonour the King and his office.’ More replied, and certainly with truth, that King Henry would not consider the service of God a dishonour to his office. The flesh: Queen Anne Boleyn, More’s bitterest enemy, exasperating the king against him by her importunate clamour, yet all the time pitied by her victim, because he realizes ‘into what misery, poor soul, she shall shortly come.’ King Henry: shown not so much in proper person, as in the reflected light which these anecdotes throw upon him. Roper refrains from uttering any very direct censure upon his late king, the father of his queen. We have only one glimpse of Henry himself, as he walks after dinner in the garden at Chelsea, holding his arm about More’s neck. And the point lies in More’s comment afterwards: ‘If my head could win him a castle in France, it should not fail to go.’”
The dramatic core of the film might be the struggle between worldly interest, ulterior motives, craving for success, — all of them represented by his wife, Dame Alice, — and the love for truth and science, incorruptibility and devotion as represented by Mag, his daughter Margaret. The culmination of such contrast could be brought out when the two women visit More at his prison in the tower. His freedom then depended solely on the subordination of his conscience to his personal interest. He only had to recognize the king’s arbitrary act by which he added to his authority as the supreme leader of the state the highest spiritual authority, a truly totalitarian step. Despite Mag’s rational pleading with More that he may avoid death, she is all love and understanding for his argumentation. Dame Alice, however, exhibits the attitude of the vast majority of all people in all eras; she laughs at the one who stands by his conviction instead of saving his life.
“What the good year,” she said, “I marvel that you, that have been always hitherto taken for so wise a man, will now so play the fool to lie here in this close filthy prison, and be content thus to be shut up amongst mice and rats, when you might be abroad at your liberty, and with the favour and goodwill both of the King and his Council, if you would but do as all the bishops and best learned of this realm have done. And seeing you have at Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your books, your gallery, your garden, your orchard, and all other necessaries so handsome about you, where you might in the company of me your wife, your children, and household, be merry, I muse what a God’s name you mean here still thus fondly to tarry.”
It is the eternal repetition of Socrates’ death, only pressing closer to our own days and more dramatic.
The other elements should form the background. Here belong the friendship with the great figures of his time, above all with Erasmus; furthermore, Erasmus’ recommendation to More of the painter Holbein who then travels from Switzerland to England and finds not only More’s protection but also his most generous support. Holbein’s presence in More’s house, the sessions with his family when the great paintings are made, offer extraordinary filmic opportunities. One can show how Henry VIII, at one of his visits to his Lord Chancellor’s house, sees the painter at work and then longs to have his own portrait done by him; the origin of the portrait of Henry VIII which is so well-known to movie-goers all over the world. The unheard of honesty of More can be illustrated by the fact that, in contrast to the habits of his time, he did not leave his office enriched. There are innumerable traits which lend themselves to visualization: the story of Anne Boleyn’s coronation ceremony and More’s assertion that he did not have a gown for the occasion. His good friends gave him [twenty pounds] to buy one. Yet, he still did not go. His efficiency in office has been as outstanding as was his impartiality. Many other instances can be given for his attempts to stem the rising wave of fanaticism which was connected with the clash between Protestantism and Catholicism. Here the parallels with our own period abound.
Max Horkheimer
March 30, 1948.
On Cinema (1947). [Fragment]
The fact that the plot in cinema is losing more and more logic and consistency is because such qualities are no longer essential for amusement. Meaningful action in the play was only necessary as long as the audience still wanted to believe in it. The semblance [Schein] was only semblance in that it pretended to present truth not just in abstracto but, however inadequately, in concreto. The element of tangible illusion, magic, deception: the pretense that the semblance is reality formed the mediation between perception and idea in art. Once this last trembling of the audience at the real magnitude of those events they were to bear witness to has been overcome, once they have been completely transformed from participants and witnesses into ‘the public,’ there is then no longer any public nor any showpiece, but only the expensive process of leisure time. Now both so-called relaxation and amusement, as well as the influence that this process serves in mass society, are bonded to the very rudiments of art. (Ersatz of the interweaving of semblance and actuality, through association.)
The early English translation of “An Institute for Social Research: Idea, Activity, and Program” can be found in the MHA, Na [656], S. [1] 1-[38] 38.
Ibid., S. [2] 2-[3] 3.
Horkheimer, “Beginnings of the Bourgeois Philosophy of History” [1930]. Between Philosophy and Social Science: Selected Early Writings, Max Horkheimer. Translated by G. Frederick Hunter, Matthew S. Kramer, and John Torpey (MIT Press, 1993), cf. 363-375.
See: Horkheimer to Löwenthal, 1/20/1942. In: MHGS, Bd. 17 (1996), 246; Horkheimer to Löwenthal, 3/17/1944. In: Ibid., 549; & Löwenthal to Horkheimer, 3/24/1944. In: Ibid., 552.
On the controversy, see:
Paul Akio Sawada, “LAUS POTENTIAE or the Praise of Realpolitik? H. Oncken and More’s Utopia” In: Moreana, November 1967, vo. 4 (Number 15-16), No. 3-4 : pp. 145-164. [link]
Oncken’s interpretation of More is found in two texts published in 1922: the first, his introduction to Gerhard Ritter’s German translation of the text; the second, an address to the Heidelberg Academy of Sciences. (1.) Morus, Thomas. Utopia. Translated by Gerhard Ritter, with an Introduction by Hermann Oncken. (Verlag: Berlin, Verlag von Reimar Hobbing, 1922); (2.) H. Oncken, Die Utopia des Thomas Morus und das Machtproblem in der Staatslehre (Sitzungsbericht der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse, Heidelberg, 1922, 2. Abhandlung).
For a sympathetic but critical reconstruction of Oncken’s Realpolitiker More, see: Avineri, Shlomo. “War and Slavery in More’s Utopia.” International Review of Social History 7, no. 2 (1962): 260–90. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000002091.
Avineri, “War and Slavery in More’s Utopia.” (1962), 272.
In: Ibid., 274.
In: Ibid., 278. Italics in original.
In: “The Authoritarian State” [1942]. Translation by Peoples' Translation Service in Berkeley and Elliott Eisenberg. Telos Spring 1973, No. 15 (1973), 5-6.
“Max Horkheimer: ‘Thomas More’, 30.03.1948:; a) Typoskript, 4 Blatt; b) Typoskript mit handschriftlichen Korrekturen, 4 Blatt; c) Englischer Entwurf mit dem Titel 'Thomas Morus', Typoskript mit eigenen Korrekturen, 1 Blatt; d) Deutscher Entwurf, Typoskript, 1 Blatt;” In: MHA Na [807], S. [74]-[83] (XI 21 b.a)
Saverio Giovacchini (1998) quotes the following from Horkheimer’s letter to Lang: 'It is difficult,' wrote Horkheimer, “to understand why authors, playwrights and screenwriters up to now have passed up one of the richest materials in history: the life of Thomas More ... Even his scholarly biographers are tempted to write as though they were to draft the first outline of a plot.... The dramatic core of the film might be the struggle between worldly interest, ulterior motives, craving for success,—all of them, represented by his wife, Dame Alice,—and the love for truth and science, incorruptibility and devotion as represented by Mag, his daughter Margaret. The culmination of such a contrast could be brought out when the two women visit More at his prison in the Tower.... Many other instances can be given for his attempts to stem the rising wave of fanaticism which was connected with the clash between Protestantism and Catholicism. Here the parallels with our own period abound.” [Footnote no. 13: Horkheimer to Lang, 30 March 1948, Box 9, Folder H, Fritz Lang papers, American Film Institute. Preliminary filing.]” In: “‘The Land of Milk and Honey’: Anti-Nazi Refugees in Hollywood,” Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television 18 (3): 437-444. DOI : 10.1080/01439689800260281., 439-440.
Laurent Jeanpierre, « Invention et réinventions transatlantiques de la “Critical Theory” », L’Homme, 187-188 | 2008, 247-270.
Jeanpierre quotes this letter from Martin Jay (1986), p. 52.
Giovacchini: As a matter of fact, in the practice and theory of the exile, both Horkeimer and Adorno had kept in touch with many of their fellow Europeans involved in the mass culture industry. William Dieterle contributed to a special issue of Studies in Philosophy and Social Sciences dedicated to mass communication. In his essay, the director expressed, among other things, an open-minded approach towards democratic possibilities of mass culture. [Footnote no. 12: William Dieterle, “Hollywood and the European crisis”, Studies in Philosophy and Social Sciences, 9 (1941), pp. 96-103.] As late as 1948, Max Horkheimer wrote to Fritz Lang, not urging him to escape Hollywood's perverse blandishments, but, on the contrary, to suggest a plot for a Hollywood biopic. Topic and genre fitted the history of the progressive Hollywoodians: a melodrama about Thomas More which would underline the struggle of the intellectual against fanaticism and censorship. (...) Too often, in fact, we forget that the refugees' emigration to the US film industry coincided with the rebirth of the Hollywood community after the advent of the 'talkies' and that such a rebirth was a chapter of the international history of modernism. The European filmmakers coming to Hollywood after 1933 were members of an intellectual milieu that was reacting to the failure of the high modernism of the previous two decades to meet the challenge of Fascism, a failure which their exile powerfully exemplified.” In: “‘The Land of Milk and Honey’” (1998), 439-440.
Horkheimer first poses the problem of the relationship between Marx’s apparent scientific-socialist ‘trust’ in history and Marx’s utopian impulse in “Authoritarian State” (written ca. 1940, published 1942):
Just as thought by itself cannot project the future, neither can it determine the point in time. According to Hegel, the stages of the World Spirit follow one another with logical necessity and none can be omitted. In this respect Marx remained true to him. History is represented as an indivisible development. The new cannot begin before its time. However, the fatalism of both philosophers refers to the past only. Their metaphysical error, namely that history obeys a defined law, is cancelled by their historical error, namely that such a law was fulfilled at its appointed time. The present and past are not subject to the same law. Nor does a new social period begin. There is progress in prehistory. It governs all stages up to the present. It might be said of past historical enterprises that the time was not yet ripe for them. Present talk of inadequate conditions is a cover for the tolerance of oppression. For the revolutionary, conditions have always been ripe. What in retrospect appears as a preliminary stage or a premature situation was once for a revolutionary a last chance for change. A revolutionary is with the desperate people for whom everything is on the line, not with those who have time. The invocation of a scheme of social stages which demonstrates post festum the impotence of a past era was at the time an inversion of theory and politically bankrupt. Part of the meaning of theory is the time at which it is developed. The theory of the growth of the means of production, of the sequence of the various modes of production, and of the task of the proletariat is neither a historical painting to be gazed upon nor a scientific formula for calculating future events. It formulates the adequate consciousness for a definite phase of the struggle and as such can be recognized again in later conflicts. If truth is perceived as property, it becomes its opposite and hence subject to relativism which draws its critical elements from the same ideal of certainty as absolute philosophy. Critical theory is of a different kind. It rejects the kind of knowledge that one can bank on. It confronts history with that possibility which is always concretely visible within it. The maturity of an historical situaton is the topic probandum and probatum. Although the later course of history confirmed the Girondists against the Montagnards and Luther against Münzer, mankind was not betrayed by the untimely attempts of the revolutionaries but by the timely attempts of the realists. The improvement of the means of production may have improved not only the chances of oppression but also of the elimination of oppression. But the consequence that flows from historical materialism today as formerly from Rousseau or the Bible, that is, the insight that “now or in a hundred years” the horror will come to an end, was always appropriate.
In: “The Authoritarian State” [1942]. (1973), 11.
And:
The conditions for the realization of utopia are so urgently ripe that they can no longer be honestly articulated. Any thought which is difficult to use and to label rightly arouses stronger mistrust in the courts of knowledge and literature than the very professions of a Marxist doctrine. The confessions to which such thinking was seduced through friendly persuasion in the pre-fascist era, in order to be rid of it once and for all later on, were equally useless for the subjugated. Theory has no program for the electoral campaign, or even for the reconstruction of Europe which the specialists will soon see to. The readiness to obey, even when it sets out to think, is of no use to theory. Despite all the urgency with which theory attempts to illuminate the movement of the social totality even in its smallest detail, it is unable to prescribe to individuals an effective form of resistance to injustice. Thought itself is already a sign of resistance, the effort to keep oneself from being deceived any longer. Thought is not absolutely opposed to command and obedience, but sets them for the time being in relationship to the task of making freedom a reality. This relationship is in danger. Sociological and psychological concepts are too superficial to express what has happened to revolutionaries in the last few decades: their will toward freedom has been damaged, without which neither understanding nor solidarity nor a correct relation between leader and group is conceivable.
In: Ibid., 19-20.
Max Horkheimer to Henryk Grossmann, 1/20/1943. In: MHGS Bd. 17 (1996), 398-415. Author’s translation.
Horkheimer to Adorno, 6/23/1941. In: A Life in Letters. Selected Correspondence by Max Horkheimer. Edited and translated by Evelyn M. Jacobson and Manfred R. Jacobson (University of Nebraska Press, 2007), 177-179.
(fn. 1 [Editor’s]) In the two earliest drafts — ‘c)’, the first English draft, and ‘d)’, the original sketch in German — Horkheimer claims (and, in ‘c),’ crosses out) that Thomas More’s influence on the beginnings of modern Western civilization “equals that of the fathers of the American Constitution for the political development of the United States.”
(fn. 2 [Horkheimer’s, ‘b)’]) cf. Robinson’s translation of UTOPIA.
(fn. 3 [Horkheimer’s, ‘b)’]) William Morris.