Ryan Crawford

The ascendance of critical theory to the status of a global intellectual paradigm is the result of a half-century-long search for the Frankfurt School’s foundations in philosophy and religion rather than its previously recognized source in contemporary social problems and the tradition of Marxism. Initiated by Max Horkheimer’s turn to religion and political conservatism in the late 1960s and early 1970s and then defended by West German contemporaries, the resulting canonization of critical theory has been more recently consolidated by leading American representatives of Frankfurt School intellectual history. To reconstruct this process, this essay returns Horkheimer’s late work to its context in Cold War–era debates about American militarism, political emancipation, women’s rights, the “Third World,” and related social struggles before showing how the controversies surrounding his religious rewriting of critical theory continue to inform influential accounts of Frankfurt School history.

That contemporary art is fundamentally irreducible to modernist art and aesthetics has become a commonplace of contemporary art theory and criticism. In marking this distinction, reference is often made to the obsolescence of once-dominant aesthetic categories and the need for breaking with aesthetic theories traditionally allied with artistic modernism. For many in the field of philosophical aesthetics, this means going beyond the work of Theodor W. Adorno and creating a conceptual discourse more appropriate to the current state of contemporary art. The present paper reconstructs the stakes of this legitimation crisis and sets Adorno’s writings on art and aesthetics in relation to some of the most significant debates in recent art criticism. In the process, it demonstrates that many of the most pressing problems in contemporary art are integral to Adorno’s aesthetic theory and that it is precisely at those points where his thought is today regarded as most problematic that it is often most instructive. Through a sustained examination of art’s essential relation to what Adorno calls “natural-history,” the problems of contemporary art and aesthetics are then situated within the wider context of art’s relationship to a history of domination.

Moby-Dick has long served as an index of contemporary events and changing paradigms. Yet despite its long and varied history of interpretation, an analysis of the novel’s reception history demonstrates a striking unanimity of purpose. In nearly every instance, Ahab’s excesses and inhumanities are identified and prohibited in the name of ensuring that the novel can aid in the work of furthering the aesthetic education of man. In the process, the artwork’s integrity, achievement and essential irreducibility are subordinated to the demand that artworks provide essential moral instruction. The present essay reconstructs this common task through a close reading of the novel’s reception history, tracking its development from the time of Melville’s contemporaries to more recent debates between Donald E. Pease and William V. Spanos. Through Theodor W. Adorno’s work on aesthetics and society, this critical reinterpretation of Moby-Dick tries to better understand the “wicked book” its author first recognized, and for whose infernal birth he felt, in his own words, “as spotless as the lamb.”

This essay takes the last pages of Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time at its word: at the moment the narrator achieves a definitive conception of the work he intends to write, he sees society composed, not of people of flesh and blood, but of monsters fit for a museum of natural history. As the novel culminates in images and concepts that are essentially nonhuman, inhuman, or posthuman in character, it demonstrates an exacting knowledge of what the present is only now beginning to realize: after two world wars and humanity’s recent entry into what is called the age of the Anthropocene, certain fundamental relations (between subject and object, between nature and history, between past, present, and future) must be rethought to account for both the eclipse of the human as well as nature’s ultimate survival. This essay seeks to develop a philosophical form that would approximate the novel’s discovery of this posthuman natural history.

Debates about the planet’s recent entrance into an epoch of earth history now characterized by the destructive effects of humankind’s having become a planetary force to rival plate tectonics, supervolcanos and asteroid impacts should have the effect of placing Theodor W. Adorno and Walter Benjamin’s conception of natural history in a new light. For what it is perhaps most striking about this conception is not only its proximity to a present made newly aware of nature and history’s total interpenetration, but just how precisely its understanding of natural history’s essential transitoriness accords with what is now everywhere observable: that ever-accelerating process of disintegration through which it becomes clear that the life of phenomena can only be known today if it is also known in terms of that reality of disappearance to which the current age daily testifies. For Adorno and Benjamin, such a conception of natural history had very real consequences for how philosophical cognition and construction would have to be remade, leading both to pursue far-reaching experiments in intellectual production that it is the task of this paper to reconstruct in the light of its possible relevance for the theory and practice of critical theory today.

In response to the catastrophes of the twentieth century, contemporary writers were often led to revolutionize inherited forms of philosophical presentation. And now, in an age of Anthropocene extinction, such experiments have become necessary once again. To comprehend this most recent of disasters, the present essay develops a practice of the philosophical fragment which, by returning to contemporaneous accounts of Auschwitz, Hiroshima, and Chernobyl, seeks to demonstrate what was both anticipated by and wholly unforeseen from within the perspective of earlier attempts at contending with natural and societal disasters. By tracking the changing status of the skies in such writers as Robert Antelme, Marguerite Duras, Günther Anders, Svetlana Alexievich, and Greta Thunberg, the present essay distinguishes this longer twentieth-century history of destruction from the work of extermination now underway.

Although the pandemic's early months were witness to a nearly unprecedented level of public concern for the plight of the old, such attention did not lead to much sustained analysis into either the concrete experience of old age or the many ways in which a greater knowledge of aging might prove instructive for rethinking the possibilities of contemporary philosophy and social change. The present paper seeks to pursue this otherwise neglected line of inquiry by recovering a previously unexplored episode from the history of social theory in which Simone de Beauvoir and Jean Améry set themselves before the mirror of old age in order to there explore reflections as inimical to their time as our own. For what this intertextual scene of contestation so clearly demonstrates is that the aging body is itself a body of knowledge capable of transforming the very ideologies and social systems that continue to deform the lives of old and young alike.