In Glas, Derrida strikingly compares his method to
“a sort of dredging machine. From the dis-simulated, small, closed, glassed-in cabin of a crane, I manipulate some levers and, from afar, I saw that... I plunge a mouth of steel in the water. And I scrape the bottom, hook onto scones and algae there that I lift up in order to set them down on the ground while the water quickly falls back from the mouth. And I begin again to scrape, to scratch, to dredge the bottom of the sea, the mother [mer]”
This kind of salvaging is an appropriate image for the reclamation of lost futures OH engages in. Building on Fisher’s concept of popular modernism, OH uncovers an archive of difficult art intended for the masses that he dubs militant modernsm. We are disabused of any naive hope that we may simply return to these past moments, but the text succeeds in showing how the hegemony of There Is No Alternative (TINA) catastrophically lowered our expectations. OH is not content to merely deliver the bad news of what we have lost, and the text evinces a tempered hope that understanding the past can inform and guide political strategy. OH recovers these lost futures in three domains: brutalist architecture, Brechtian theater and the Freudo-Marxist demystification of love.
First, architecture. In contrast to the comforts of traditional architecture, OH suggests brutalism is fruitfully understood as a spatial implementation of Trotskyism. The brutalists were faithful to the “psychotic, suicidal notion of building with the ruins already in mind: a death-drive architecture, where posterity’s opinion is internalised to such a ludicrous degree that, in a sense, the corpse has been designed before the living body.” To plan a building accounting for its inevitable decay is to change not just the style but the institutional affiliations of architecture. Where traditional architecture is concerned with preservation, brutalism self-consciously erases its own traces, “outrunning the old world before it has the chance to catch up with you.” Where traditional architecture clearly demarcates between inside and outside, constructivist (=brutalist) architecture “made a fetish of the extraneous, and adverts, banners or radio masts can be found as features of most of the original plans. In fact, the chaotic advertising that blocks out the lines of the original buildings is closer to the original impulse than is the urge to preserve.” Brutalism strips the mystique from the ‘alien building’ which can “become an object of distant, awed contemplation. When, on the other hand, the alien enters everyday life, when it can’t be ignored but has to be lived with, then the boundaries between the alien nation and our alienated cities might start to be breached.”
Second, theater. Unlike the classical 3 act structure, Brecht’s ‘Epic Theater’ is organized by montage, “based on interruption and via that interruption, the listener has to ‘take up an attitude towards the events on stage’: the laying bare of the device induces a stance. An early play of Brecht’s featured the banner ‘DON’T STARE SO ROMANTICALLY’: instead the audience has to assume a critical engagement.” Amusingly, OH observes that it’s no accident that so many of Brecht’s works are musicals (think of pirate Jenny): the musical is “the culture industry’s most truly Brechtian form.” In a memorable passage, OH contrasts the paths of Beckett and Brecht: “Beckett is not fun. For all his virtues, he is a supremely difficult writer, almost all of his mature works extremely forbidding: one might extract a quote or two from Worstward Ho, but few try reading the bastard thing. To be crass, people think they would like Beckett but wouldn’t, and think they wouldn’t like Brecht – but they would.” This reverses Adorno’s judgment: what Adorno didn’t anticipate was that Beckettian high modernism would be more easily mass-marketed, in the form of navel gazing media which makes its consumers feel smart for ‘getting it’. Brecht’s modernism, on the other hand, continues to trouble us, and is extremely difficult to assimilate into a spectacular economy of imagines. One can imagine a Disney film with all the magic of Beckett’s nihilsm, but a Disneyfication of Brecht is impossible.
Third, Freudo-Marxism. OH suggests that the heart of the project of demystification that grounds the left-Modernist project “is a demystification of Love. However, this demystification is too frequently an abandonment or a fear of love altogether, an avoidance of it – the sense that it is somehow uncomfortable.” An example of the double bind produced by this situation is Mayakovsky, who “essentially traps himself: he can’t bear the ‘petrified crap of the present’ and the sentiment and possessiveness of its sexuality, yet the future dreamt of by the Constructivists, biomechanicists and rationalists purges love in favour of a strictly utilitarian sexuality which is barely an improvement.” A Freudian upgrade of traditional Marxism is necessary. Against the transliteration of love and desire “into curlicues and Corinthian columns” OH reclaims Reich’s insight that “the freedom from sexual oppression is meaningless without freedom from economic, i.e. that sexual freedom is a condition of Communism and vice versa.” Crucially, the Freudo-Marxists modify the concepts that Freud is content to keep transhistorical, in particular locating the Oedipus complex within specific relations of reproduction: “the Oedipus complex is a socially conditioned fact which changes its form with the structure of society. The Oedipus complex must disappear in a socialist society, because its social basis, the patriarchal family, will itself disappear, having lost its raison d’etre.”
One objection. OH frames militant modernism as a form of anti-naturalism. This is a mistake, albeit an understandable one. The alienation effects that characterize modernism are only construable as contrary to nature if we adopt a broadly Platonic conceptual strategy. A Hegelian strategy is preferable: alienation is better understood as a progressive externalization. Crucially, this means that the domain of alienation isn't the heaven of forms; rather the domain of alienation is objective spirit. OH's popularization, unsurprisingly, erases these finer details. An account faithful to Hegel would, by contrast, emphasize that modernism's peculiar power is its ability to criticize the form of reified objectivity in which we represent ourselves. What makes militant modernism compelling is its *conceptuality* - militant modernism shocks us into thinking. To reduce this shock to the destruction of the familiar is to trivialize it - capitalism is perfectly good at grinding old meanings out of the life-world. Popular modernism may be bleak, but it is fiercely optimistic: the only possible meaning in a world where the old ways of life have been revealed to be hollow is its radical transformation. Militant modernists "know how to swim against the stream in the deep conviction that the new historic flood will carry them to the other shore. Not all will reach that shore, many will drown. But to participate in this movement with open eyes and with an intense will - only this can give the highest moral satisfaction to a thinking being!" (~Trotsky, TMAO)