In the essay "On the Critique of Violence," Benjamin is attempting to provide an account of violence as it manifests itself in law and political life. In the state, violence is used as a means of suppression. Lawmaking is a form of violence because it seeks to maintain the status quo and is arbitrary in its usage; for instance, the police participate in arbitrary violence for a legal ends. Benjamin suggests that we find ourselves in a realm of mythical violence wherein violence is not a mere means to end, but has become manifest in the existence of our very institutions. Benjamin writes that mythical violence is “not a means to their [the gods] ends, scarcely a manifestation of their will, but first of all it is a manifestation of their existence.” (Critique of Violence, p.294) The response to mystical violence that Benjamin suggests is one of divine or sovereign violence, a concept which requires some clarification.
I found Benjamin's reference to the biblical commandment “Thou Shalt Not Kill” interesting given his movement towards what seems to be a sort of messianism. The idea of messianism is also discussed in the secondary literature and in Derrida's critique. McFarland writes that, “The mythic closure for this dialectic of violence could only be interrupted by a violence of a totally different kind, a Gewalt, that overwhelms the instrumentality of law entirely and points toward an unprecedented social transformation.” (Walter Benjamin, p.15) Dialectical violence is subject to an eventual synthesis which results in the same sort of violence that has been enacted as a means of preserving law. Conversely, divine violence appears in a moment of “revelation” as that which is completely different and seemingly exterior. McFarland continues to say that, “Benjamin calls this messianic notion “divine” violence,” but clarifies that whether such a violence would differ practically from that of the state is contentious. In what follows I'd like to explore some theoretical reasons for “divine” violence's difference from “mythic” violence.
Benjamin writes that in this case of the maxim not to murder, “the commandment precedes the deed.” (Critique of Violence, p.298) This might be an idea that he is borrowing from the Talmudic tradition, which explains that the reception of the commandments by the Jewish people were given on the requisite of “doing before knowing” or “Na'aseh ve-nishmah”. (Exodus 24:7) This sentiment represents a responsibility before freedom, which is distinct from the Greek or mythical use of violence. Revelation in Judaism presents itself as something that comes from exterior to the listener, yet is already familiar in a fundamental way. This too seems to be along the lines of what Benjamin is proposing. Divine violence is “pure” according to Benjamin, meaning that is not wrought with the ulterior motives that are characteristic of mythic violence. Doing before knowing is also representative of a “pure activity” because it expresses the fulfillment of a commandment prior to knowledge of any sort of system of punishment, for instance. Interestingly the word for commandment in Hebrew is “Mitzvah” which is often used as equivocal to a “good deed”. This connection suggests that action and power carry an ethical responsibility, which is corrupted by “knowing before doing.” Perhaps Benjamin's appeal to Judaism over the “Greek” is evidenced here.
Mythical violence appears to be that which has constituted the modern state and the political realm. It seems that there are many layers to his use of Greek myth as an analogy for this sort of violence. For instance, Greek paganism and idolatry are in contrast with the notion of divine violence that Benjamin suggests. Paganism stands in opposition to monotheism not because it doesn’t recognize the existence of a unique deity, but rather that it lowers the divine to the physical realm. Monotheism offers the opportunity for transcendence, while the paganism of the Greeks ascribes to the concept of fate attached to the embodied self. One might be able to think of a paganistic fate as completely immanent. Perhaps we can even see this sort of fatalistic attitude played out in Greek tragedies. Mythical violence seeks to establish and maintain laws and in doing so it seeks to construct and uphold limits and boundaries. Divine violence on the other hand attempts the opposite. Revolutionary violence is a sort of revelation because unlike mythical violence it cannot be easily noticed or defined.
Marxism seems to breaks away from mythical violence because it contains within it the right to legally exercise violence, for instance in the form of a strike. Yet, Marxism still looks different than the intangible divine because it remains attached the physio-political, material world. Marxism progresses towards materiality because according to it, a person is no longer absolutely free, but is subject to the forces of physical needs as the mover of history. In doing so, Marxism might also risk succumbing to the corporeal fatalism of Greek myths. Perhaps this is an unfair reading of violence according to Benjamin. It is very possible that divine violence might be a sort of Hegelian idea of world spirit that unrecognizably creates history. If this is the case, then the immanence of Marxism might not be an issue for Benjamin, especially considering that he began his essay stating that he wished to situate it in historic-philosophical view (Critique of Violence, p.279).
It seems to me that anarchism, however, would be ideal for Benjamin. Revolution comes in a moment of revelation, which although coercive and thereby violent in nature, is a turn away from politicizing or agendas. Benjamin writes that “On the breaking of this cycle maintained by mythical forms of law, on the suspension of law with all the forces on which it depends as they depend on it, finally therefore on the abolition of state power, a new historical epoch is founded” (Critique of Violence, p.300). Is this historical epoch the messianic age; is it post-historical? Anarchism seems to be in line with the sort of messianism that Benjamin is espousing. In fact, given his connections to zionism it might not be so far fetched because many of the early zionists considered themselves anarchists. At the same time, after the moment of revolution it seems that Benjamin is not concerned with the details what will come of the “messianic age” or what follows after revolt. It might be possible to allow room for both Marxism and anarchism under Benjamin's notions of violence moving history. If for instance anarchism is representative of an “end of history” and Marxism is a mediating point in between where some coercive violence of the state still exists, then the two might not be mutually exclusive. If such were the case then one might conclude that the object of divine violence is the cession of the need for violence. I wonder if this reading is too utopian for Benjamin's project. Derrida questions the possibility of a peaceful revolution. He quotes Benjamin's use of the phrase “violence imposed by fate” in order to illustrate the possible danger of fate coming into conflict with a just ends (Critique of Violence, p.293). Perhaps this is an illusion to national socialism and the holocaust, in which case Derrida's fears are certainly founded.
Here, Derrida gets to the heart of what is so uncomfortable about Messianism. It in itself is ultimately fatalistic and relies upon some intangible mover, (whether it is history, God, etc.) to incite movement. If this is what seeks to abolish laws then perhaps we should not be so anxious for its arrival. Perhaps it is naïve to assume that divine violence would differ from any other sort of violence, especially if it falls into the category of “you'll know it when you see it”. This concept within Benjamin's philosophy is most closely related to what made much of Schmitt's claims regarding the state of exception so uncomfortable. Yet, maybe Benjamin is able to avoid some of those concerns because divine violence is not an act of human agency. It may be sovereign violence, but it is not violence decreed by the human sovereign. There is still something uncomfortable in such a messianic idea, particularly in its relationship to the suspension of law for revolutionary purposes. Overall, I am sympathetic to Benjamin's critique of violence, but would like to have more of an understanding of the guiding mechanisms of divine violence as well as its ends, if any exist.
I found Benjamin's reference to the biblical commandment “Thou Shalt Not Kill” interesting given his movement towards what seems to be a sort of messianism. The idea of messianism is also discussed in the secondary literature and in Derrida's critique. McFarland writes that, “The mythic closure for this dialectic of violence could only be interrupted by a violence of a totally different kind, a Gewalt, that overwhelms the instrumentality of law entirely and points toward an unprecedented social transformation.” (Walter Benjamin, p.15) Dialectical violence is subject to an eventual synthesis which results in the same sort of violence that has been enacted as a means of preserving law. Conversely, divine violence appears in a moment of “revelation” as that which is completely different and seemingly exterior. McFarland continues to say that, “Benjamin calls this messianic notion “divine” violence,” but clarifies that whether such a violence would differ practically from that of the state is contentious. In what follows I'd like to explore some theoretical reasons for “divine” violence's difference from “mythic” violence.
Benjamin writes that in this case of the maxim not to murder, “the commandment precedes the deed.” (Critique of Violence, p.298) This might be an idea that he is borrowing from the Talmudic tradition, which explains that the reception of the commandments by the Jewish people were given on the requisite of “doing before knowing” or “Na'aseh ve-nishmah”. (Exodus 24:7) This sentiment represents a responsibility before freedom, which is distinct from the Greek or mythical use of violence. Revelation in Judaism presents itself as something that comes from exterior to the listener, yet is already familiar in a fundamental way. This too seems to be along the lines of what Benjamin is proposing. Divine violence is “pure” according to Benjamin, meaning that is not wrought with the ulterior motives that are characteristic of mythic violence. Doing before knowing is also representative of a “pure activity” because it expresses the fulfillment of a commandment prior to knowledge of any sort of system of punishment, for instance. Interestingly the word for commandment in Hebrew is “Mitzvah” which is often used as equivocal to a “good deed”. This connection suggests that action and power carry an ethical responsibility, which is corrupted by “knowing before doing.” Perhaps Benjamin's appeal to Judaism over the “Greek” is evidenced here.
Mythical violence appears to be that which has constituted the modern state and the political realm. It seems that there are many layers to his use of Greek myth as an analogy for this sort of violence. For instance, Greek paganism and idolatry are in contrast with the notion of divine violence that Benjamin suggests. Paganism stands in opposition to monotheism not because it doesn’t recognize the existence of a unique deity, but rather that it lowers the divine to the physical realm. Monotheism offers the opportunity for transcendence, while the paganism of the Greeks ascribes to the concept of fate attached to the embodied self. One might be able to think of a paganistic fate as completely immanent. Perhaps we can even see this sort of fatalistic attitude played out in Greek tragedies. Mythical violence seeks to establish and maintain laws and in doing so it seeks to construct and uphold limits and boundaries. Divine violence on the other hand attempts the opposite. Revolutionary violence is a sort of revelation because unlike mythical violence it cannot be easily noticed or defined.
Marxism seems to breaks away from mythical violence because it contains within it the right to legally exercise violence, for instance in the form of a strike. Yet, Marxism still looks different than the intangible divine because it remains attached the physio-political, material world. Marxism progresses towards materiality because according to it, a person is no longer absolutely free, but is subject to the forces of physical needs as the mover of history. In doing so, Marxism might also risk succumbing to the corporeal fatalism of Greek myths. Perhaps this is an unfair reading of violence according to Benjamin. It is very possible that divine violence might be a sort of Hegelian idea of world spirit that unrecognizably creates history. If this is the case, then the immanence of Marxism might not be an issue for Benjamin, especially considering that he began his essay stating that he wished to situate it in historic-philosophical view (Critique of Violence, p.279).
It seems to me that anarchism, however, would be ideal for Benjamin. Revolution comes in a moment of revelation, which although coercive and thereby violent in nature, is a turn away from politicizing or agendas. Benjamin writes that “On the breaking of this cycle maintained by mythical forms of law, on the suspension of law with all the forces on which it depends as they depend on it, finally therefore on the abolition of state power, a new historical epoch is founded” (Critique of Violence, p.300). Is this historical epoch the messianic age; is it post-historical? Anarchism seems to be in line with the sort of messianism that Benjamin is espousing. In fact, given his connections to zionism it might not be so far fetched because many of the early zionists considered themselves anarchists. At the same time, after the moment of revolution it seems that Benjamin is not concerned with the details what will come of the “messianic age” or what follows after revolt. It might be possible to allow room for both Marxism and anarchism under Benjamin's notions of violence moving history. If for instance anarchism is representative of an “end of history” and Marxism is a mediating point in between where some coercive violence of the state still exists, then the two might not be mutually exclusive. If such were the case then one might conclude that the object of divine violence is the cession of the need for violence. I wonder if this reading is too utopian for Benjamin's project. Derrida questions the possibility of a peaceful revolution. He quotes Benjamin's use of the phrase “violence imposed by fate” in order to illustrate the possible danger of fate coming into conflict with a just ends (Critique of Violence, p.293). Perhaps this is an illusion to national socialism and the holocaust, in which case Derrida's fears are certainly founded.
Here, Derrida gets to the heart of what is so uncomfortable about Messianism. It in itself is ultimately fatalistic and relies upon some intangible mover, (whether it is history, God, etc.) to incite movement. If this is what seeks to abolish laws then perhaps we should not be so anxious for its arrival. Perhaps it is naïve to assume that divine violence would differ from any other sort of violence, especially if it falls into the category of “you'll know it when you see it”. This concept within Benjamin's philosophy is most closely related to what made much of Schmitt's claims regarding the state of exception so uncomfortable. Yet, maybe Benjamin is able to avoid some of those concerns because divine violence is not an act of human agency. It may be sovereign violence, but it is not violence decreed by the human sovereign. There is still something uncomfortable in such a messianic idea, particularly in its relationship to the suspension of law for revolutionary purposes. Overall, I am sympathetic to Benjamin's critique of violence, but would like to have more of an understanding of the guiding mechanisms of divine violence as well as its ends, if any exist.
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