These are the bitter and desperate thoughts of a young man: âHe thought of himself and only himselfâlost in the ruins of his dreams, sick, sorrowful and discouraged [âŠ]â (1984: 409). What exactly were his dreams? Can someone who is obviously a very self-absorbed man at the same time bemoan the failure of his political dreams? Does he experience a feeling of profound discouragement since the consequences of his political endeavors and actions are not those that he desired? No, this young man, although living in one of the most dramatic periods of French history, has never shown any interest in politics or political action in the first place. The bitter words are those of FrĂ©dĂ©ric Moreau, the protagonist of Gustave Flaubertâs negative bildungsroman, LâĂducation sentimentale (1869). The historical background of the novel is the revolution of 1848. Concerning this momentous event, FrĂ©dĂ©ric is utterly indifferent. He is rather obsessed with the idea of conquering Madame Arnoux. Reacting to a note written by his friend Deslauriers, who asks him to take part in the demonstrations against Louis-Philippe, FrĂ©dĂ©ric exclaims: âYes, yes, I know all about their demonstrations. Thanks, but I have something better to doâ (1984: 271). He mostly watches the protesting masses from a distance. From his perspective, âthe tightly packed crowd looked like a field of black corn swaying to and froâ (1984: 272). FrĂ©dĂ©ric is incapable of sensing the excitement and energy in the streets since he is busy contemplating the various possibilities for why Madame Arnoux has not shown up for their rendezvous.
In an important passage, the narrator makes clear that the only fascination Frédéric experiences in the confrontation with the demonstrating and rioting crowds is an aesthetic one. He feels as if he were watching scenes on the stage of a theater:
All this seems as unreal to FrĂ©dĂ©ric as the idea and practice of socialism. Thus, one of the first (if not the first) genuinely modern novels approaches the idea of socialism with an ironic distance. Flaubert deconstructs the myth of socialism, on the one hand, by calling attention to the role of contingency, ambiguities, unpredictable singularities, and uncertainties, and, on the other, by highlighting the unfortunate role of intellectuals manquĂ©s, or young men from the provinces, in those enormously important political events. While FrĂ©dĂ©ric Moreau is obviously not a socialist, would it be possible to advance the idea that he has certain pragmatist inclinations? Would conceptual tools and ideas such as experience, practice, activity, creativity of action, inquiry, or critical evaluation be useful in order to illuminate the complexity of his character? I think that one of the most interesting aspects of Flaubertâs bleak bildungsroman is that it demonstrates the degree to which modern society makes one question the effectiveness of any philosophy of praxis. A listless modern man without qualities, FrĂ©dĂ©ric moves at an equal distance from metaphysics and the immanence of the creativity of action.1The drums beat the charge. Piercing cries and triumphant cheers sounded. The crowd swayed to and fro in constant eddies. FrĂ©dĂ©ric did not move; he was trapped between two dense masses and, in any case, fascinated and enjoying himself immensely. The wounded falling to the ground and the dead lying stretched out did not look like real dead and wounded. He felt as if he were watching a play. (1984: 281)
While the renaissance of pragmatism has undoubtedly led to many important and fruitful discussions, the relationship between pragmatism and Marxism has played hardly any role in this context.2 This is curious and deplorable insofar as both are philosophies of praxis that focus on the dynamic character of social practices and material activities in particular historical circumstances. Moreover, both are historicist philosophies and both put an emphasis on process and progress (this also implies that knowledge must address itself to the future and not the past). It is also crucial to note that both are influenced by Darwinism and both center on human beingsâ creativity of action in a world that was not made for them. Furthermore, one might feel tempted to advance the argument that pragmatism and Marxism even argue for the necessity of developing forms of post-philosophy; in Fredric Jameson, this has resulted in the discourse we have come to term âtheory,â whereas Richard Rorty developed his idiosyncratic notion of cultural criticism (reading his principal philosophical hero John Dewey as a fellow cultural critic and intellectual historian).
The relationship between Marxism and pragmatism was discussed by Richard J. Bernstein and George Novack in the 1970s and by Cornel West in the 1980s and early 1990s. Since then, this important discussion has been neglected.3 My monograph seeks to reactivate this discussion. Marxism and pragmatism are not strictly incompatible, and an analysis of their interrelationship helps one to better understand both. My book intends to achieve three things. First, it will hopefully lead one to better appreciate the productive tension between, on the one hand, a representationalist and teleological universalism that still needs the appearance-reality distinction and, on the other, a historicist nominalism that is antirepresentationalist and antifoundationalist. Second, it shows that a discussion of the relation between Marxism and pragmatism is of contemporary significance since it can help one to fully grasp the implications of the notion of a postmetaphysical or poeticized culture. Continuing the argument, I developed in Romanticism and Pragmatism: Richard Rorty and the Idea of a Poeticized Culture (2015), elucidation of this idea of a literary or poeticized culture will be one of my primary concerns. Undoubtedly, Marxists like LukĂĄcs and Jameson have helped prepare the establishment of this kind of culture, yet they did not take the final step from finding to making. Reactivating the discussion of the relationship between Marxism and pragmatism, one has to see that these two philosophies of praxis have developed different critiques of the search for the certainty, reliability, immutability, and purity of what would be more than another human creation, and that it is precisely the tension between these critiques that is of significance for contemporary theoretical debates. This tension should also be regarded, I argue, as contributing to an understanding of the importance of an antifoundationalist story of progress in the twenty-first century. If we seek to continue the unfinished project of establishing a genuinely postmetaphysical culture, the attempt to highlight the dialectics of Marxism and pragmatism is a good starting point.4
Finally, it is crucial to appreciate that in spite of its postmetaphysical gesture, Marxism often tells a coherent dramatic narrative that is governed by necessity, the quest for certainty (Deweyâs term), and teleology. Whether one discusses problems in aesthetics or epistemology, in many Marxist texts, one can detect traces of the quest for necessary and universal forms, grounds, essences, or categories. Striving to arrive at the firm grounds, universal foundations, or inevitable consequences of philosophic objectivity, historical necessity, or aesthetic truth, many Marxist theorists combine the idea of narrative, truth, and form in a fashion that cannot be found in pragmatism.5 Both philosophies teach one that knowledge always is historically located, and that it reflects social interests, personal needs, and political powers at a particular moment in history. However, by combining history, truth, form, and metaphors of depth, Marxist theorists often seem to long for som...