And we arrived at the end. For that moment, Heidegger reserved for us an erudite, yet fierce, surprise. Perhaps few understood it - in its entire density - right then. Also it sounded glorious; calling to struggle, to war. "But we do will," he said, "that our people fulfill its historical mission. We do will ourselves. For the young and the youngest strength of the people, which is already reaching beyond us, has already decided the matter. But we will only fully understand the magnificence and greatness of this new departure when we carry within us that profound and far-reaching thoughtfulness that gave ancient Greek wisdom the saying:" He paused. The silence thundered, deafened. It could, I thought, drive us mad. We all stared at him. We all knew he was going to speak the final phrase. We all expected something big, boundless. It was History, it was happening, and all of us there, were a part of it. Heidegger said: "All that is great stands in the storm." I knew it. Many knew it. It was a phrase of Plato's. From The Republic, even. But the word storm was not Platonic. It wasn't even Greek. It was a word from the great German romanticism. It was the word with which the SA had chosen to name itself. Why did Heidegger say Sturm? Plato - that very night I confirmed it - said "danger". He said: "All that is great is in danger" or "is in danger of perishing. But not tempest. Sturm, son, is a word from romanticism and the SA. The Assault Section gave itself that name following its first street fight in Munich, I believe, you know my weakness with dates, around 1921, Röhm and his men were, always and notoriously, the Sturm Abteilung. Heidegger, now, with the word Sturm had united Plato with Röhm assault troops. Once again the beginning granted us the mandate of greatness. It was Plato who demanded that the SA be loyal to the Greek greatness and the greatness of Germany, that they should assume that role today and take it to triumph.

The beginning is still now. Everything that is great in in the middle of the tempest.

Between hurrahs, cries of war, of joy and enthusiasm, between hymns and SA songs, between banners with swastikas that shook - what doubt could there be - from the winds of the tempest, between the arms outstretched saluting the Führer of Freiburg, between insults to the communists, to the Jews, to the social democrats, to the old professors who would be expelled, injured and thrashed, between roars that roared Heil Hitler! And, in the end, between the words, thundering, boisterous, of the hymn of the national community, the genial author of Being and Time, the great philosopher of our century withdrew.

The next day - propelled by a certitude that had never existed in me - I joined the National German Workers' Party.

In short, son: I became a Nazi.

Labels: The Shadow of Heidegger

¶ 11:35 AM