In 1916, Rosa Luxembourg misattributed a phrase to Freidrich Engels which has since become one of those classic socialist slogans, along with "bread and roses," "land and freedom," and "1 coat=20 yards of linen": "socialism or barbarism." The phrase implies an exclusive disjunction between the two terms--where one is, the other cannot be, and it is up to us to choose one at the expense of the other. Socialism, or barbarism, and never the two shall meet.
In 1946, Merleau-Ponty wrote a series of five essays for Les Temps Moderne which were collated into this book, Humanism and Terror, which was published in 1947. Upon his death, Sartre wrote that Merleau-Ponty was never really a believer in Marxism, and in some sense, that's true. Merleau-Ponty practiced what he called a "Marxism without illusions": a cautious, "open" Marxism which, at the same time that it knew its world and the movement of history which bore the world along, knew also its embeddedness within that history--a Marxism that knew its finitude and its contingency because history itself was contingent, a Marxism which did not believe it held the secret key to history, nor that the utopia it sought to realize was ever pre-destined to arrive.
There is a double meaning to the phrase "humanism and terror," a meaning which applies to liberal societies and a meaning which applies to the USSR in 1946 and 1947. On the one hand, liberal societies proclaim their allegiance with humanist values while enacting the terrors of racism, imperialism, immiseration, and alienation. Liberal humanism is a false humanism which clings to abstract constitutional values only to mask its terror. It critiques the revolutionary violence of communists, and yet it refuses to acknowledge its own violence. It is therefore guilty of a "Quaker hypocrisy." On the other hand, the USSR is open about its violence. It partakes of no pretense to nonviolence--it knows that violence is inescapable insofar as we are social beings, it knows itself to be violent, and it claims that its self-aware violence is enacted for the sake of a truly humanist future. Thus the title of the book, and the rejection of Luxembourg's disjunction: The promise of liberal humanism may only be realized by passing through communist terror.
This is the conclusion of the book: communist violence *may* realize the values of liberal humanism. It is not a positive conclusion. Even less is it an endorsement of Leninism or Stalinism. Merleau-Ponty was no tankie. What he finds promising in Marxism is not what it posits, but rather what it rejects: "Marxism does not offer us a Utopia, a future known ahead of time, nor any philosophy of history...Marxism, rather than an affirmation of a future that is necessary, is much more a judgment of the present as contradictory and intolerable." Merleau-Ponty endorses Marxism insofar as it leverages the labor of the negative. It is a "No!" which resists, destroys, and, in destroying, transcends an intolerable present towards an unknown and unknowable future. This movement away from the past and the present is not without risk. It is entirely possible that the revolution will fail, will be led astray into detours, will falter and collapse in on itself, or else will ossify into a new brutal regime, as it in fact did under Stalin. There is no guarantee any political movement, let alone Marxism, will succeed in its aims. The knowledge which Marxism has of itself and of history is of necessity an incomplete, full of gaps and zones of probability, and ultimately based on faith, because it participates in the world and in history, creates itself, asserts itself in struggle, and does not stand outside of history or the world in order to grasp them like an object it possesses. It is much rather possessed by the world because it participates in the flow of situated embodied existence. But for this very reason its knowledge is also meaningful and veracious. If it cannot determine in advance where history is headed, it is neither a blind leap into the void. It can transcend the past only because it knows its past; it is currently transcending its present simply by living through it. The question is, in what direction is it moving? In any case, *it will* know its present retrospectively, once the present becomes the past of a future present by virtue of that passage of time which is a kind of transcendence itself.
Like Hegel and Freud, Merleau-Ponty thought that knowledge is retrospective. Marxism finds a coherency and a narrative arc in history only because its distance from the past allows it to analyze the past and discover a meaningful movement in it. But as it is lived in the present, the course of history and the meaning of its events are entirely ambiguous. Because we are installed within the history, we cannot get outside of it to see it clearly, and we cannot say for certain its outcome will be. Contingency demands of the present that we act without complete knowledge of what the effects of our actions will be. History is forged through faith and risk or it is not forged at all. It is quite possible that Marxism will prove itself to be a failure, but its tenets will be verified or falsified only by the course of history itself.
Far from dissuading us of political action, the contingency of history--the fact that history is *made* before it is fully known--reveals our agency in it, our power of going beyond the given to establish a new present, where, if we are lucky, we *might* be more human. Merleau-Ponty wrote of the French collaborators with the Nazis during the Occupation: "There is a sort of maleficence in history: it solicits men, tempts them so that they believe they are moving in its direction, and then suddenly it unmasks, and events change and prove that there was another possibility. The men whom history abandons in this way and who see themselves simply as accomplices suddenly find themselves the instigators of a crime to which history has inspired them. And they are unable to look for excuses or to excuse themselves from even a part of the responsibility." It is possible that history will judge the USSR and its supporters the same way (and indeed, tankies notwithstanding, this is the judgment that Stalinism would receive).
And yet...in 1946, Merleau-Ponty really *is* a believer. If he cannot endorse Stalin's authoritarianism, or the purges, the gulags, the NEP, the secret police--in short, all of the real, material indications that the USSR was not going to fulfill its humanist aims--he at least resides in his faith in the *idea* of Marxism, in the theory of historical materialism. But isn't this preference for abstract ideals over their incarnation precisely the hypocrisy he accused the liberals of? Isn't it the height of bad faith to install oneself in service to the dream of a Marxist humanism which is realized nowhere in practice? In 1946, Merleau-Ponty was not so sure. It was the duty of Western Marxists to critique the rigid and authoritarian Marxism of the USSR while keeping pledging their allegiance to the Communist project in general, in the hopes that communism in France, England, and elsewhere might be more humane. By 1953, Merleau-Ponty could no longer sustain such hopes. He rejected Marxism completely, and placed his faith instead in the "non-communist left."
Why read this book, then, if the passage of time has revealed its mistakes, if its author has denounced its conclusions, and if, finally, the events and characters which fill its pages have been consigned to the dustbin of history? I think that the value of this book for a contemporary audience is that it embodies the philosophy of history which it sets forth. Stalinism was a mistake. Its future was a nightmare. That much is clear in hindsight, even to most USSR apologists. And yet, in 1946, it was not so clear what the USSR would become. One can always say that the failure of the USSR or of any other communist project is not a conclusive proof of the overall movement's failure, in the same way that a writer who never writes can keep the beautiful dream of writing forever alive in their imagination. There is always a writing to come, a communism to come, a humanism to come, on the horizon...And yet, it never actually becomes realized except as this phantasm over yonder that calls to us and recedes as we approach it. In a sense, it's true that ideas are never conclusively disproved by history--history is not a logical argument, it is a passage which proliferates and accumulates ideas. The "dustbin of history" is much more like a bed where ideas go to lie than a grave. Even if it were a grave, it would be haunted with ghosts. But it is just as true to say that communism as it manifested in the USSR was a failure. It ought to be of interest to us today how it was that so many people came to believe in its future despite the horrors of its present. And today, what utopian dreams are we wed to and haunted by? What horrors are we willing to commit in the name of such fulfilling a mission? It is true that one cannot live within dreams, but it is equally true that one cannot live without them, either. Very few people today believe in humanism except as a dream. It is both behind us, in the past, and in front of us, as a task to be realized. And it will remain so until it is renounced. But even then, we would still be dreaming--posthuman, transhuman, antihuman, all-too-human dreams
P.S. Regarding anarchism, Merleau-Ponty was sadly misinformed. Although he was familiar with the ideas of Proudhon and Serge, and mentioned Stirner once, he seemed to have derived his understanding of anarchism from his relationship with Camus, who was a staunch pacifist. On the rare occasions that Merleau-Ponty mentions anarchism, he does so only to dismiss it as a naive and idealistic philosophy which refuses to accept violence as a necessary aspect of our social existence. This is certainly a strange critique of anarchism, insofar as most anarchists are not opposed to violence at all, but merely to its monopolization by state forces. Many anarchists would agree with Merleau-Ponty's insistence that humans are bound up with each other in messy and sometimes ugly ways, and yet Merleau-Ponty levels this proposition at anarchism as if it were somehow evidence of the theory's insufficiency. Even to proclaim the freedom of another person, he writes, is to do violence to them. Perhaps. But again, violence is not necessarily a taboo for anarchism. And even if it were, to use the term in such a loose and all-encompassing way as to equate the act of proclaiming someone else's freedom with physical harm is to render the term meaningless without further distinctions. It's telling that by 1953, having rejected both communism and capitalism in equal terms, Merleau-Ponty sides with progressive leftism, aiming for parliamentary reforms while declaring support for revolutionary movements when they happen. He cannot conceive of a world without government, without a ruling class. To him, the ruling class are a necessary structure of world history, present at all stages in history. I would respond that he is a poor reader of history, if he is willing to discount all of human existence before agriculture and the civilizations it gave rise to. But perhaps he was, and semi-nomadic hunter-gatherers constituted for him some mythical stage of pre-history. In any case, his political philosophy is about as good as you can get from within a statist system--which is to say, it's not very good. Against all odds, he still *believes* in the possibility of an honest leadership that would accurately listen to and represent its constituency. This could be a reflection of his perceptual ontology, in which the pre-reflective world of non-representational perception gives rise to the reflective world of representational thought, and yet the pre-reflective world of perception can only be *known* through the mediation of representational thought. But this dialectic always leaves an excess of the perceived over the representation, of the signified over the signifier, of the Real over the Symbolic. And so consciousness is "split," is never at peace with itself, and is perpetually unhappy unless it accepts its unhappiness as constitutive of its life so much that it no longer becomes unhappiness. And this does seem to be his political position. It induces in him a kind of "left melancholia": of course, government is a necessary evil, what can you do but resist authoritarianism whenever it throws its head up and fight for freedom whenever you can without believing you can go all the way and resolve the contradiction? But the acceptance of the contradiction and the rejection of utopia is the foundation of much of contemporary anarchism, which seeks the abolition of state control anyway, simply because it is felt to be an unjust obstacle to living an authentic life. If Merleau-Ponty could simutaneously reject capitalism and communism only to retreat to progressivism, perhaps it was because 1953 was not yet 1968. History may not progress, but tendencies accumulate, go in and out of fashion as the present demands of them, and constitute living traditions which are always ready to be revived again as long as their archives remain