I found Rudiger Safranski’s biography of Heidegger to be characterized by extreme highs and lows in quality. To some degree that’s because it takes the genre of “intellectual biography” to a limit where it almost feels like it’s trying to be two books at the same time- a portrait of the intellectual life of the German nation in the twentieth century and a standard biography of Heidegger. The former is at times electrifying. The latter is, at its worst, right down maudlin.
If nothing else, “Between Good and Evil” is very readable. Safranski and Ewald Osers, his translator, produce engaging prose throughout. I would go so far as to say that Safranski demonstrates a level of genius for clearly and intelligently conveying the gist of complex bodies of thought in, at most, a couple of paragraphs. This enables him to spin an impressive portrait of an intellectual milieu in a given time and place. Indeed, one of the book’s main goals seems to be to situate Heidegger in his historic moment. I do feel I came away from the book with a richer understanding of what and who shaped Heidegger’s thinking.
Another aspect of the book that I enjoyed was the way it contextualized Heidegger’s work in lived circumstances. When reflecting on a philosopher’s oeuvre it is easy to imagine it as one continuous intellectual journey. For instance, Heideggereans often refer to dramatic changes in the Master’s thought as “the turning” as if it were one dramatic twist in plot. Safranski shows philosophizing happening in the course of life as it is lived by real, inconsistent human beings who don’t know themselves what course their thinking may take in the future and whose thought evolves not in one continuous flow but in stops and starts.
As a biographical story-teller, however, Safranski struck me as mediocre at best. And this hinders his ability to connect a milieu with a personal subject. Some of the ways Safranski attempts to connect Heidegger’s life and thought are clumsy, even facile. And Safranski’s short comings as a biographer interfere with his ability to adequately convey the richness of Heidegger’s philosophy. For instance, he interprets “Being and Time” as an allegory about disenchantment with the experimental democracy of the Weimar Republic. The philosopher’s notion of “falling” into “das man” is reduced to a rejection of the “they” of the political bickering of the party system rather than a blindness to one’s own, ultimately arbitrarily determined socialization.
Throughout one does not sense the full radicality of Heidegger’s thinking from Safranski’s commentary. Rather than a thinker who attempted to determine the structure of the possibility of being (as a human), Safranski’s Heidegger seems a thinker trying to awaken his audience to the novelty of existence. In the last chapter Safranski specifically compares Heidegger’s thinking to Zen philosophy. That what is there exists in the place of nothingness is supposed to make us feel warm and fuzzy. This, for Safranski, appears to be the source of Heidegger’s greatness.
One would never think Safranski’s Heidegger is the philosopher who was so influential to the post-structuralist generation of French thinkers. This might be by design. The only intellectual descendents of Heidegger who Safranski discusses are Sartre and Arendt (the oeuvre of the latter of whom he interprets as one long philosophical love letter to Heidegger- correcting his work by making it more “affirmational”, a particularly silly passage). While not naming any of Heidegger’s French disciples other than Sartre, Safranski vaguely derides what Heideggerean philosophy has since become, a pretty clear swipe at, most particularly, the thought of Derrida.
On a darker note, one feels no connection in the book between Heidegger’s thinking and his attraction to Nazism other than as a rejection of the superficiality of democracy. For Safranski’s Heidegger the Nazi movement would allow Germany to become it’s authentic “I” and reject the “they” of the vapid modern world. But in “Being and Time” the world that Dasein inhabits is simply the network of ways in which it knows how to utilize it. Safranski in no way explores the possibility that this line of thinking leads to the notion that the only authentic attitude towards the world is one of ruthless, perhaps violent, cultural imposition.
I enjoyed reading Safranski’s book, and found it at times quite rewarding. It’s weakest passages, however, reduced it to being an only barely worth-while read.