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1088 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1982

The concept of progress had to run counter to the critical theory of history from the moment it ceased to be applied as a criterion to specific historical developments and instead was required to measure the span between a legendary inception and a legendary end of history. In other words: as soon as it becomes the signature of historical process as a whole, the concept of progress bespeaks an uncritical hypostatization rather than a critical interrogation. This latter may be recognized, in the concrete exposition of history, from the fact that it outlines regression at least as sharply as it brings any progress into view (478).
The new, dialectical method of doing history presents itself as the art of experiencing the present as waking world, a world to which that dream we name the past refers in truth. To pass through and carry out what has been in remembering the dream!—Therefore: remembering and awaking are most intimately related. Awakening is namely the dialectical [ . . . ] turn of remembrance (389).
What is decisive in collecting is that the object is detached from all its original functions in order to enter into the closest conceivable relation to things of the same kind. This relation is the diametric opposite of any utility, and falls into the peculiar category of completeness. What is this “completeness”? It is a grand attempt to overcome the wholly irrational character of the object’s mere presence at hand through its integration into a new, expressly devised historical system: the collection (pp. 204 – 205).
The later conception of man's exploitation of nature reflects the actual exploitation of man by the owners of the means of production. If the integration of the technological into social life failed, the fault lies in this explanation.One of my own, less vaunted thoughts: yesterday's flâneur as today's influencer.
The private individual, who in the office has to deal with realities, needs the domestic interior to sustain him in his illusions. This necessity is all the more pressing since he has no intention of grafting onto his business interests a clear perception of his social function.
[I]t is not surprising that a chronicler adds apocalyptic prophecies to this connection and foretells a time when people will have been blinded by the effects of too much electric light and maddened by the tempo of newsreporting. (Jacques Fabien, Paris en songe (Paris, 1863))
There is a handwritten draft in which Caesar instead of Zarathustra is the bearer of Nietzsche's tidings. This is of no little moment. it underscores the fact that Nietzsche had an inkling of his doctrine's complicity with imperialism. (Karl Löwith, Nietzsches Philosophie der ewigen Wiederkunft des Gleichen (Berlin, 1935), p. 73.)
As life becomes more subject to administrative norms, people must learn to wait more. Games of chance possess the great charm of freeing people from having to wait.
["...]The result [of Haussmann] is everywhere the same: the most scandalous alleys...disappear to the accompaniment of lavish self-glorification by the bourgeoisie..., but—they reappear at once somewhere else, often in the immediate neighborhood"—With this goes the prize question: Why was the moratlity rate in Lodnon so much higher in the new working-class districts (around 1890?) than in the slums?—Because people went hungry so that they could afford the high rents. And [Joséphin Péladan]'s observation: the nineteenth century forced everyone to secure lodgings for himself, even at the cost of food and clothing. (H. Budzislawski quoting Engls' "Zur Wohnungsfrage" of 1872 in: "Croesus Builds", Die neue Weltbühne, 34, no. 5 (February 3, 1938), pp. 129-130.)
(It would be interesting to study the bibliophile as the only type of collector who has not completely withdrawn [their] treasures from their functional context.)
"Let us perhaps guard against taking these poets too quickly for Christians. The liturgical language, the angels, the Satans...are merely a mise en scène for the artist who judges that the picturesque is well worth a mass." (Maurice Barrès, La Folies de Charles Baudelaire (Paris), pp. 44-45)
Baudelaire confesses to having had, "in childhood, the good fortune—or the misfortune—of reading only books for adults." (Charles Baudelaire, L'Art romantique (Paris), p. 298. ("Drames et romans honnêtes")
He would have nothing to do with women if he were not hoping that, through them, he could offend God and make the angels weep. (Anatole France, La Vie littéraire, vol. 3, (Paris, 1891), p.22.)
Baudelaire unites the poverty of the ragpicker with the scorn of the cadger and the despair of the parasite.
Every childhood achieves something great and irreplaceable for humanity. By the interest it takes in technological phenomena, by the curiosity it displays before any sort of invention or machinery, every childhood binds the accomplishments of technology to the old worlds of symbol.Another is Benjamin's inconsistency in pointing out antisemitism in the quotes he gathers. Given what we all know what would come after, for us to be likewise as inconsistent would be the death of us. See Fourier's conflation of cabalist/Kabbalah with egoism, or better yet:
There has never been an epoch that did not feel itself to be "modern" in the sense of eccentric, and did not believe itself to be standing directly before an abyss. The desperately clear consciousness of being in the middle of a crisis is something chronic in humanity.
(In the eighteenth century, workers who agitated were called cabaleurs.)At some point, I may grow disillusioned with visualizing my engagement with history as solving the murder mystery of the world. But not yet.
Between the value of the new commodities produced by the use of the labor-power in the workshop, and the prices paid for this labor to its sellers, this is, according to Marx, no economic or other rationally determinable relation whatever. [...] They result from a battle between social classes." (Karl Korsch, Karl Marx, v. 2, pp. 71-72.)Words to think on. One hopes, with enough contextualization and communication, words to live on. When it comes to reading, one cannot hope for much more than that.
The experience of our generation: that capitalism will not die a natural death.
"Number alone is allowed, honored, protected, and recompensed. Since number does not think, since it is an...instrument...that never asks...whether it is made to serve the oppression of humankind or its deliverance,...the military leader of this era wanted no other emissary." (Alphonse de Lamartine, Les Destinées de la poésie (1834), as quoted by Jean Skerlitch, L'opinion publique en France d'après la poésie [politique et sociale de 1830 à 1848] (Lausanne, 1901), p.65.)
"A shrewd observer remarked, one day, that fascist Italy was being run like a large newspaper and, moreover, by a great journalist: one idea per day, with sidelights and sensations, and with an adroit and insistent orientation of the reader toward certain inordinately enlarged aspects of social life—a systematic deformation of the understanding of the reader for certain practical ends. The long and short of it is that fascist regimes are publicity regimes." (Jean de Lignières, "Le Centenaire de La Presse," Vendredi, June 1936.
"In the first days of the Revolution, the question of the poor assumed...a very distinct and urgent character. Bailly, who initially had been elected mayor of Paris for the express purpose of alleviating the misery of the...workers, packed them into masses and cooped them up—some 18,000 people—like wild animals, on the hill of Montmartre. Those who stormed the Bastille had workers with cannons emplaced there, lighted match in hand...Had the war not drawn the unemployed and destitute laborers from town and countryside...into the army, and shuttled them off to the borders...a popular uprising would have spread across the whole of France." (Paul Lafargue, "Die christliche Liebestätigkeit" [Die neue Zeit, 23, no. 1 (Stuttgart), p. 147.)
In feudal society, the leisure of the poet is a recognized privilege. It is only in bourgeois society that the poet becomes an idler.
Just as the industrial labor process separates off from handicraft, so the form of communication corresponding to this labor process—information—separates off from the form of communication corresponding to the artisanal process of labor, which is storytelling. This connection must be kept in mind if one is to form an idea of the explosive force contained within information. This force is liberated in sensation. With sensation, whatever still resembles wisdom, oral tradition, or the epic side of truth is razed to the ground.
Maurice Renard, in his book Le Péril Bleu[(1910)], has told how inhabitants of a distant planet come to study the flora and fauna indigenous to the lower depths of the atmosphere—in other words, to the surface of the earth. These interplanetary travelers see in human beings the equivalent of tiny deep-sea fish—that is to say, beings who live at the bottom of a sea. We no more feel the pressure of the atmosphere that fish feel that of the water; this is no way alters the fact that both sets of creatures reside on an ocean floor.
[Work], in which the [worker] represents merchant and merchandise in one, acquires a particular significance.