Norton 1
Mimesis in Practice: The Intersection of Artistic Reproduction and Politics
A thesis presented to the
Department of Political Science
University at Albany, State University of New York
Rockefeller College of Public Affairs and Policy
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for
Graduation with Honors in Political Science
and
Graduation from The Honors College
Troy Norton
Thesis Advisor: Morton Schoolman, Ph.D.
May 2016
Abstract
Political theory is a field best analyzed through the lens of history, which we can understand to include art and literature. Here I do so in an effort to determine how we can use history to better our existing political communities. We may, as Walter Benjamin argued, focus on preserving the historical value of a given artwork, thereby subverting a potentially fascist regime. Or we may, as Jacques Rancière argued, reproduce artwork so as to illustrate recurring sociopolitical struggles and thus offer a means of resistance. By subjecting both arguments to analysis in terms of Erich Auerbach’s Mimesis,I demonstrate how we can scrutinize art in such a way as to both maintain its historical value and apply it to contemporary political societies.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank first Professor Morton Schoolman, who oversaw this project from its beginnings as a concept into which I wished to delve further. I would also like to thank Professors Victor Asal and Peter Breiner, whose insights guided me throughout my time at Rockefeller College. I owe much to Professors Jeff Haugaard and Leslie Halpern, who saw to it that I and many others gained immensely from our Honors College experiences. Finally, I am indebted to my mother and my brother, without whom nothing I accomplish could be possible.
Table of Contents
Abstract ………………………………………………………………………………………….. 2
Acknowledgements ……………………………………………………………………………… 3
Chapter One: Defining the Issue of History …………………………………………………….. 5
Chapter Two: Walter Benjamin and the Sanctity of History …………………………………... 10
Chapter Three: Rancière, Reproduction, and Means of Resistance ……………………………. 14
Chapter Four: A Technical Approach: Erich Auerbach and Literary Mimesis ……………...... 18
Chapter Five: Forging New Political Paths through History …………………………………... 23
Bibliography …………………………………………………………………………………… 27
Chapter One
Defining the Issue of History
It is certainly a commonplace that history in itself is of utmost importance to political theory as well as our political practices. That, however, is the extent of the commonplace. It is not obvious precisely how history influences our politics. It is not even entirely clear what forms of history we should consider when assessing these matters. As we shall see, history is a manifold entity, and it is crucial that we treat it as such.
In the chapters that follow, I shall consider analyses presented by Walter Benjamin, Jacques Rancière, and Erich Auerbach.Each of these thinkers proposes a distinct way in which we should view and subsequently treat history relative to our politics. Yet there is a common thread that runs through all three of their arguments, namely that all three are considering in some way the historical value of artwork. This might not be how we traditionally conceive of history, but it is history nonetheless, and we have to consider it and its implications accordingly. It is important, then, to spend some time assessing why exactly this is the case before discussing the thinkers in turn.
There is a rudimentary yet critical distinction between primary historical sources and secondary ones. Most students, and in turn most people in general, learn history from secondary sources: textbooks, course readers, and the like. Such an education is important insofar as it provides students with a base knowledge of historical facts without which they can perform no sort of critical analysis. Yet although this sort of knowledge is a necessary condition for critical analysis, it is in no way sufficient for it. Proper critical analyses can only be enabled by the study of primary historical documents, from which the typical citizen is largely restricted.
These primary historical documents might vary greatly in nature. One might, for instance, be inclined to analyze the text of the United States Constitution, or that of any other nation for that matter. Or, one might instead opt to scrutinize Monet’s Rouen Cathedral series of paintings. Further still is the attention that works of literature demand of us. For reasons I shall explain shortly, works of art shall be especially important to us in this analysis. My current point, however, is that primary historical documents may take many different forms, and we must be at least tacitly cognizant of this moving forward.
If there are indeed so many forms history can take, most of which the bulk of the citizenry does not consider in such a way, then it seems safe to assume that that citizenry will inevitably be subject to exploitation. And this might be the precise sociopolitical problem facing many of us today: because art is not presented to us as something of historical or political value, we do not view it as more than a leisurely complement to our otherwise busy, work-oriented lives. We do not consider properly the ways in which this art might be of greater value to us. Consequently, we often miss key opportunities to overturn the aforementioned exploitation, or at least gain a greater awareness of it. Indeed, awareness alone seems crucial at this juncture, as with it comes a sense of duty to act on what is socially, politically, and morally correct.
One should not reasonably assume at this time that our current systems of work and education will have some incentive to disseminate, much less explain, art in such a way. They are likelier instead to continue on the path that they have tread thus far. The obligation falls on us, then, as students of politics to begin considering art in new, increasingly dynamic ways. But this begs a further question. Just as there are various media in which history can be represented, so too are there multiple ways in which we can use a particular artwork, given its unique historical value. Which method, then, should we adopt?
Earlier I mentioned the three thinkers whose views shall be discussed here: Benjamin, Rancière, and Auerbach. It is worth taking a moment to lay out the basic points these thinkers make, as the rest of the analysis shall be centered on these views.Benjamin is, in a certain sense, the most conservative of the three. On his view, there is a certain historical sanctity possessed by any particular artwork. Modernity, however, may have rendered this sanctity largely obsolete, as now quality appears not to hold any greater value than quantity.[1]This has often allowed for apparently fascist regimes to tighten their control over increasingly susceptible societies, as mechanical reproduction of art will change the masses’ reaction to that art.[2] Later I shall consider whether this change must necessarily be as defeatist as Benjamin purports it to be. As things stand, though, Benjamin’s solution to his problem is to simply work against the mechanical reproduction of art, as in so doing populations will not find themselves as susceptible to fascist threats.
If Benjamin is the most conservative of the three, then it seems appropriate to consider Rancière the most radical. With Benjamin, Rancière acknowledges the historical value of any given artwork, but he does not find solace in simply leaving them as is. On that matter he directly challenges Benjamin, asserting that “Benjamin’s explanation via the fatal aestheticization of politics in the ‘era of the masses’ overlooks, perhaps, the long-standing connection between the unanimous consensus of the citizenry and the exaltation of the free movement of bodies.”[3] Perhaps, then, the masses need not be swept along by the reproduction of art. They may instead infer from this reproduction certain sociopolitical struggles that have persisted across generations and thus afford themselves a new means of political resistance. In this sense, Rancière’s argument appears far more promising than that offered by Benjamin.
Yet for all the strengths of his argument, Rancière does not make especially clear to us precisely how we are to do this. Framed another way, what, exactly, should this reproduction look like? In Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, Auerbach offers a more technical answer to this question. He interprets reproduction in terms of literary works produced in different historical epochs, and his analysis relies on comparisons between two given works. In this way, as Marc Blanchard suggests, we are able to gain through Auerbach’s method a sense of the extent to which literature actually represents reality, a notion which comports greatly with the argument advanced byRancière.[4] That argument, of course, came years after Auerbach’s project. Nevertheless, there is analytical merit in considering Rancière’s position in terms of what Auerbach has done, as Auerbach describes in detail the reproduction of art that Rancière later places in a more political context.
We thus have three vantage points on which we can base our considerations: one conservative, one radical, and one technical. It is worth reiterating, though, that all of these vantage points make a bold move by speaking of the value of history squarely in terms of artistic media. Because it is such a bold move, its implications are often not considered by the general populace. And yet that is precisely why they mean so much to our politics. For if we can successfully and properly make this transition from more traditional understandings of history to more innovative ones, we can open new routes by which we can actively shape our political societies. The rest of the paper shall elaborate on a few specific ways in which we can do this, but the idea alone is nothing short of liberating.
Chapter Two
Walter Benjamin and the Sanctity of History
Walter Benjamin was a prominent Marxist thinker in Germany who was associated with the Frankfurt School of critical theory and contributed greatly to aesthetic theory. In his 1936 essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” he made a number of astute observations regarding the role that artwork plays relative to the dominant political system in a given society. Almost immediately Benjamin drew an essential distinction between mere reproduction of art, which in principle has always been possible, and mechanical reproduction of that art.[5]As opposed to traditional forms of reproduction, mechanical reproduction allows one to copy an artwork with minimal effort. If reproduction can indeed be done this easily, then it is bound to happen more frequently and more rapidly with the onset of modernity than ever before. It was with great purpose, after all, that Benjamin asserted that quality no longer amounts to anything greater than quantity.[6]
There is a clear connection, on Benjamin’s view at least, between the historical value of art on the one hand and its influence on our politics on the other. He argued that “[e]ven the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be.”[7] Traditional forms of reproduction, of course, might not fully illustrate the extent to which this historical uniqueness relates to political influence. In such cases it may simply be considered a given that the historical context in which an artwork is created is part and parcel of the artwork itself. With the onset of modernity and mechanical reproduction, however, the relationship becomes clearer and more drastic. Indeed, the question no longer remains whether there is a relationship between the two; it instead becomes who is doing the reproducing, and, consequently, what ramifications this might have on our political systems.
To Benjamin, the general public represented not an informed and critical citizenry but rather a receptive, and increasingly susceptible, mass entity. In a word, they are not, on Benjamin’s view, going to be the ones reproducing artwork. Any benefits toward the masses that could possibly be derived from mechanical reproduction, then, are left to the discretion of the dominant government. Yet such an application of mechanical reproduction is not likely to manifest. For, according to Benjamin, “[m]echanical reproduction of art changes the reaction of the masses toward art.”[8]And, he elaborates, “[t]he greater the decrease in the social significance of an art form”—which is almost invariably a factor of mechanical reproduction and removal of historical context in general—“the sharper the distinction between criticism and enjoyment by the public.”[9]
There is little incentive, then, for a governing body to use mechanical reproduction of art benevolently, for the well-being of the people. That governing body is instead far likelier to choose one of two alternatives. It might opt not to exploit mechanical reproduction at all, treating, to whatever extent possible, culture and politics as two separate entities. Conversely, it might opt to use mechanical reproduction of art as a means of rendering the masses increasingly complacent toward whatever activities, malicious or otherwise, that governing body might be undertaking. As we shall see momentarily, this is a crucial way in which potentially fascist regimes can consolidate their power in a given society. Moreover, this is precisely what Benjamin found so concerning about mechanical reproduction.
As noted above, mechanical reproduction, according to Benjamin, renders the masses less critical and readier to enjoy whatever artwork is presented to them. Importantly, this concept, while typically understood in terms of art itself, quite readily extends to governmental policies: rather than criticize them, the masses begin to unquestioningly accept them for what they are. In this way, potentially fascist regimes are able to more fully exert their power over the unsuspecting masses. This, to be sure, is an outcome we should not be inclined to idly accept. Fortunately, it is in no way unavoidable.
The solution that Benjamin proposed harkens back to the options available to a governing body mentioned above. We have seen the unfortunate ramifications that can be wrought on a society by a government’s exploitation of mechanical reproduction. Moreover, we have also seen that a government has little, if any, incentive to use mechanical reproduction for the benefit of the people, if such a thing is indeed possible. The only remaining option is for the governing body to not mechanically reproduce artwork at all. This, of course, is precisely the route Benjamin urged us to pursue. We as citizens should constantly be on guard against mechanical reproduction of artwork in any form, as such a technique could easily be practiced by malevolent persons. In being on guard in such a way, we can effectively fend off fascist threats, preserve the historical value of the artwork in question, and retain our critical sensibilities.
Perhaps, though, there are other solutions to the problem posed by fascist regimes, solutions that went largely unconsidered by Benjamin. Recall his assertion that mechanical reproduction of art changes the attitude of the masses toward that art. Benjamin, of course, assumed that this change of attitude would entail the passive acceptance of the artwork in question. But we need not assume that this is the only possible change in attitude that mechanical reproduction of art begets. Indeed, there is likely to be a number of different forms that the masses’ new attitudes may take. These forms, in turn, might illustrate the extent to which the label of “masses” might be misplaced on the general populace.
If nothing else, Benjamin has illustrated the legitimate danger posed by malevolent, fascist governing bodies. He has also shown one way in which we can combat these fascist regimes, namely by doing what we can to prevent the mechanical reproduction of artwork wholesale. Benjamin erred, though, in assuming that this is our only method of resistance. As we shall soon see, this is hardly the case, for if we consider alternative methods of interpreting reproduced artwork, then we can also begin to comprehend new, more active means of resistance. These, of course, call into question Benjamin’s characterization of a government’s subjects as “masses,” for such a characterization effectively robs them of the performative capabilities they possess.
Chapter Three
Rancière, Reproduction, and Means of Resistance
In his famous poem “Song of Myself,” Walt Whitman wrote on the topic of diversity, emphasizing the manifold forms that he (or, presumably, anybody) could take and noting that he is “[a] farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker, [p]risoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.”[10] There are, on the one hand, multiple occupations and identities mentioned here. Equally pressing, though, is the fact that on the other hand, this list is in no way all-encompassing or complete. Whitman could easily have selected different jobs, identities, or personalities, and, moreover, he could have done so ad infinitum, for there is no real limit as to how many different identities one could assume. This speaks primarily to two ideas: that we possess, in effect, limitless performative capabilities, and that artwork and literature are important media through which this can be clearly demonstrated.
These are precisely the ideas that Jacques Rancière, contemporary French philosopher and democratic theorist, intended to convey throughout The Politics of Aesthetics. There he directly challenged Benjamin’s view, claiming that “Benjamin’s explanation via the fatal aestheticization of politics in the ‘era of the masses’ overlooks, perhaps, the long-standing connection between the unanimous consensus of the citizenry and the exaltation of the free movement of bodies.”[11]We have already seenhow Benjamin’s assessment of mechanical reproduction and fascism, astute as it was, was much too narrow in scope. He assumed that the masses’ only choice was to prevent this mechanical reproduction altogether. Rancière, however, hoped to demonstrate that we might be able to make good use of such reproduction, rather than be forced to abandon it entirely.