This is the second of a series of three posts on Jean-Francois Lyotard’s Heidegger and “the jews”. I first wrote the entry below in my philosophical journal on the date indicated.
Satruday, January 10, 2009
Lyotard, Heidegger and “the jews”, p. 27, just after writing what I cited yesterday [see my preceding post], that ends with “Finally, one has appeal to human rights, one cries out ‘never again’ and that’s it! It is taken care of,” he continues: “Humanism takes care of this adjustment because it is of the order of secondary repression. One cannot form an idea of the human being as value unless one projects one’s misery to the outside as caused by causes that one only needs to get down to transforming.”
This is also essentially what Paul Eisenstein says, when he argues that trauma is effectively denied its traumatization by the identification of trauma, which is finally always “structural,” with some one actual “historical” occurrence–or figure (such as “the Jew”) made to represent trauma–in precisely the negative sense of “represent” that Lyotard critiques in the passage I cited yesterday [see the preceding post].
He picks up that critique again a few lines later on p. 27:
If one represents the extermination, it is also necessary to represent the exterminated. One represents men, women, children treated like “dogs,” “pigs,” “rats,” “vermin,” subjected to humiliation, constrained to abjection, driven to despair, thrown like filth into the ovens. But this is not enough, this representation forgets something. For it is not as men, women, and children that they are exterminated but as the name of what is evil–“jews”–that the Occident has given to the unconscious anxiety. Compare [Robert] Antelme and [Elie] Wiesel, L’Espèce humaine [The Human Race] and Night. Two representations, certainly. But Antelme resists, he is somebody who resists.
Then he makes a point similar to one Chrétien makes in The Ark of Speech (see my journal entry above, for 12/28/08 [in my post before last]):
All resistance is ambiguous, as its name indicates. Political resistance, but resistance in the Freudian sense. It is a compromise formation that involves learning to negotiate with the Nazi terror, to manipulate it, even if only for a little; trying to understand it [cf. Claude Lanzman saying that it is obscene and blasphemous to try to give “meaning” or “explanation” to the Holocaust], so as to outsmart it; putting one’s life on the line for this; reaching the limits of the human species, for that. It is war. Deportation is a part of the war. Antelme saves honor.
These remarks, especially in echoing relation with those of Chrétien, perhaps point to a way to resolve the issue of reconciling the liberation attested by the rebellion at Auschwitz with that equally–if not even more so–attested by the experience of the ultimately transitory, ephemeral, and illusionary character of the assertion of power in “Auswchwitz”–the problem that has surfaced more than once in my journals on trauma. Maybe these echoing passages from Lyotard and Chrétien are the way-markers to the way out of that apparent impasse. That may well be a suggestion reinforced by how Lyotard goes on with his discussion.
Still on page 27 [and extending over to page 28], Lyotard goes on to say:
One can represent the Nazi madness–make of it what it also is–an effect of “secondary” repression, a symptom; a way of transcribing anxiety, the terror in regard to the undetermined (which Germany knew well, especially then), into will, into political hatred, organized, administered, turned against the unconscious affect. . . . But on the side of “the jews,” absence of representability, absence of experience, absence of accumulation of experience (however multimillenial), interrior innocence, smiling and hard, even arrogant, which neglects the world except with regard to its pain–these are the traits of a tradition where the forgotten remembers that it is forgotten; knows itself to be unforgettable, has no need of inscription, of looking after itself, a tradition where the soul’s only concern is with the terror without origin, where it tries desperately, humorously to originate itself by narrating itself.
The SS does not wage war against the Jews. . . . The war merely creates the din that is necessary to cover the silent crime. . . . –a second terror, a horror rather, practiced on the involuntary witness of the “first” terror, which is not even felt, not even lodged, but which is diffuse and remains in it like an interminably deferred debt. In representing the second terror one ineluctably perpetuates it [!!!]. It is itself only representation. . . . One betrays misery, infamy by representing them. All memory, in the traditional sense of representation, because it involves decision, includes and spreads the forgetting of the terror without origin that motivates it.