Book Review - Hannah Arendt and Martin Heidegger: Book Review

2005-08-30T10:40:00.000-07:00

Book Review - Hannah Arendt and Martin Heidegger: Book Reviewrisa peris

Book Review - Hannah Arendt and Martin Heidegger: Book Review

2005-08-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

Book Review

2005-08-30T10:22:00.000-07:00

Exceeding Tolerance: The Love of Hannah Arendt and Martin Heidegger

Book:

Letters 1925-1975 – Hannah Arendt and Martin Heidegger
Edited by Ursula Ludz, Translated from the German by Andrew Shields
Harcourt Inc: New York, 2004

Review by: Risa Peris

Love, by its very nature, is unworldly, and it is for this reason rather than its rarity that it is not only apolitical but anti-political, perhaps the most powerful of all anti-political human forces.

-Hannah Arendt

Is love unity or union? If it is unity, there is only tolerance bridging the gap between individuals. However, if love is a union between two people then tolerance becomes an inappropriate medium for accessing that love. The union between two individuals exceeds the feeling of tolerance and reaches the level of oneness. What I do to you I do to myself. In order to understand this position, we need to revisit the story of Echo and Narcissus. At its heart, this story is about self-love and the shunning of companionship. Narcissus, a handsome man, fell in love with his own image in the lake water. He was so moved by this image that he vocally exclaimed that he loved himself, or at least the image that his self produced. Echo, witnessing this act of self-love and hearing Narcissus’ words, called out ‘I love you’. Echo, having been punished for her talkativeness to Hera as a result of her allowing her lover Zeus to escape, was condemned to merely repeating or echoing the words around her. Thus, Echo, who had great feelings for Narcissus, could only repeat his phrases. Narcissus ignored the words uttered by Echo and continued to stare at his image. He rejected food and water and died gazing at himself. A lovely flower grew in his place and Echo was refused the return of her voice and was condemned to sound throughout the land. Repeating and repeating.
There are many themes and ideas that can be gleaned from this story. But I would like to situate the story within the life and relationship of Hannah Arendt and Martin Heidegger, who maintained a fruitful and, at times, tense relationship for over fifty years. Their compiled letters are a universal testament between two influential twentieth century thinkers and a personal statement on the bond of love.
In a letter dated November, 21 1925 Heidegger asks Arendt the following question, “Why is love rich beyond all other possible human experiences and a sweet burden to those seized in its grasp?” The prolific Heidegger who was not one to let any question go unanswered responded that, “we become what we love and yet remain ourselves. Then we want to thank the beloved, but find nothing that suffices. We can only thank within our selves. Love transforms gratitude into loyalty to our selves and unconditional faith in the other.” (pg 4-5). A few days later, Heidegger writes to Arendt that, “the demonic struck me. The silent prayer of your beloved hands and your shining brow enveloped it in womanly transfiguration. Nothing like it has ever happened to me. In the rainstorm on the way home, you were even more beautiful and great. I would have liked to wander with you for nights on end.” (pg. 6).
For the first quarter of the book, Heidegger is effusive and descriptive in his feelings for Arendt. Their affair began in 1925 and lasted briefly, although they would remain friends for decades. At the time, Heidegger was thirty-five (married with children and a professor at the University of Marburg) and Arendt was eighteen. The affair ended when Arendt followed Karl Jaspers to Heidelberg. There she would complete her dissertation on the concept of love in Saint Augustine, which laid the foundation for her seminal works on thinking, banality and the ennobling qualitiesof friendship.
The letters collected in this book clearly illustrate Arendt’s and Heidegger’s intellectual empathy for each other. The physical ramifications of their relationship are unknown but it is unnecessary to even hypothesize on this area of their lives as they were obviously connected to each other by a bond exceeding that of scholarship and philosophical ponderings. In many ways, their relationship was a perfect union. The story of Narcissus and their own words elaborate this point.
Narcissus is generally considered a negative figure in Western culture. His love for his own image excluded the voice of others (like Echo) and is seen as possessing the basest kind of love, love for one’s self, rather than love for other’s which is generally viewed under Judeo-Christian ethics as the highest form of love. Arendt herself might agree with this assessment as her graduate dissertation was based on Christian love and professed throughout her career that thinking about one’s self could lead to inherent problems when one is positioned within a society. I am specifically referring to her commentary on Adolf Eichmann. However, Narcissus can also be viewed sympathetically. Essentially, he fell in love with lake water. He fell so profoundly in love that he excluded all external stimulation such as food, drink and even Echo, who had become infatuated with him. But this love, illusory as it was, became a grander kind of love. In a poem that Heidegger wrote for Arendt, he states: “ When into thought love climbs/ to it Being has inclined/ When thought with love illuminates/ grace has given what it radiates.” (pg. 87). Narcissus gazed into water and saw himself and because love convinced him of its perfection he became graced.
Unity between individuals opens the road toward tolerance. Union between individuals creates love and an inseparability far exceeding that of mere toleration. Arendt was born into a secular Jewish household. Heidegger was born into a pious Catholic household. Their respective religions are of interest since Heidegger found in Arendt an equal, a lover and a confidant. Heidegger would also later become affiliated with the Nazi party and scholars since this unfortunate political decision would attempt to incorrectly ground fascism into his thought and scholarship, namely, that of Sein und Zeit. However, critics of Heidegger often neglect his relationship to Arendt. Heidegger’s letters to Arendt, though sometimes drowning in banality, show not a trace of disapproval for Arendt herself. Their letters stopped between 1933, when the Nazis came to power and Arendt fled Germany and 1950, when Arendt ultimately forgave Heidegger his political decision. It is hard to ascertain in the letters whether she ever took his Nazism as a personal blow. The only clue to this, other than her forgiveness, is enclosed in a 1950 letter to Elfride Heidegger (his long time wife), which stated that she “was quite firmly determined never to love a man again.” (pg. 61).
Arendt’s and Heidegger’s love was a mirror. Their own intellectual genius reflected back at them. They could each have been Narcissus and the lake water respectively. But what is striking is that love transcended political unrest and religious and ethnic differences. They loved each other as they would love themselves. Considering the dark moments of twentieth century European history, this does not appear to be a profane love but rather a love that exceeds mere tolerance and reaches the sacred heights. Their letters reflect a long history of adoration.
Arendt died in 1975, just a few months before Heidegger. In a letter Heidegger wrote to Hans Jonas, he seems to have relinquished his proprietary hold on Arendt. He positions her within a circle of friends and “deeply mourns” with them. (pg. 217-218). He goes on to state that, “only grief and remembrance are left for us.” (pg. 218). Heidegger, in his later letters, became increasingly restrained in his use of language with Arendt. Perhaps because she became restrained in her approach to him, as a result of a satisfying marriage to Heinrich Blucher. What remains in the later letters is evidence of a strong friendship but their early love casts a curious shadow over their words. Who owned whose heart remains in question and one can only wonder if Heidegger would have lain a bouquet of Narcissi on her grave. Of course, the rest of us are condemned to merely echoing the love between them.