We met again. It must have been, for me, a foreseeable event. Heidegger wanted to talk to me. He had said so and had set a precondition. You'll remember it: As soon as I'm freed from some commitments. On saying this phrase from the peak of his rectorate it was clear he was referring to engagements that swirled from that maelstrom. Now, they were over. Heidegger was still Heidegger. He wasn't someone else. But he was no longer the Führer of Freiburg. It was to be expected that I'd run across him eventually. I entered the senior common room and there, on that morning of 1935, on that morning like any other, even while a pair of servants, anonymous, evanescent to the extreme of insignificance, did their job, there dwelled Being. A white light entered through the large window. It was so white, so real it hurt the eyes. It fell on Being, illuminating him. Heidegger was a man of the shadows, an expressionist, a romantic. But nature loved him: light, transparency, total unveiling all loved him. He was reading a think and worn book. He smoked a rustic pipe that he might have made. He was at the end of the large cedar table, not at the center. Off to one side. Seeing him I lost my breath. I don't know if you'll understand: Heidegger was Being. So much had he spoken of that sublime absence, of that absence that our forgetting created. So much had he spoken of that withdrawal, of that "withdrawal of Being", that he, for me and many other, was its only possible and desirable incarnation. Heidegger could exist amidst the forgetting and withdrawal of Being because he was the Master that asked about that forgetting, about that withdrawal. That mission gave him an abundance that we didn't have. We had it through him. He was the prophet of Being. He was the possible or impossible but only nearness, relation between Being and us. I walked, as if levitated, towards him; I stopped at his side and waited, for a while, for the remotest chance of his glance. There was no such glance. It was without looking at me that he said: "Sit down, professor Müller". Rarely had he honored me by calling me "professor". Always "Müller", like to the young student in Marburg. "If you were about to ask me what I am reading, don't. I read Nietzsche. It is the time to read, deeper than ever, Nietzsche." I told him that I also read Nietzsche, that I even taught him in my classes. "You neither read Nietzsche nor teaching him in your classes", he said. "You read a crude Nietzsche. A Nietzsche contrived by what today is National Socialism." Then he looked at me. His eyes always clear, his moustache, now thicker. I also looked at him, I also saw him. I'll tell you what I saw: there wasn't peace nor even any joy left in the face of Being. Only the opacity of the times we lived in. neither he nor I ignored it. Without him as the Führer of the university, the university would only drift off looking for the mediocre, for party dogma. "You read a coarse Nietzsche, built by Alfred Baeumler, watched over by Alfred Rosenberg, in the service of a biologism, of a mediocre racism that injures not just the sublime madman of Turin, but also National Socialism itself. These are bad times, Professor Müller. It was strange that he would be telling me this. I lived in the space of fear. I accepted fear as an essential part of National Socialism. Adolf Hitler has so many enemies that - of the two possibilities Machiavelli offers the Prince for governing: make himself loved or make himself feared - he could only chose the second. He made himself, then, frightening and everyone feared him. That is why he was the Führer. Because his will was the law of the fatherland. And I, who wasn't brave, was scared. I knew that fear (and its factical expression: obedience) was the most genuine recourse for surviving in Germany. Heidegger seemed to ignore that. Or he was ignoring it now, on telling me these words, lateral to those of the regime. He was Heidegger. Perhaps he could say them. But I wasn't him. Perhaps I should not hear them. I asked (I heard myself ask, the question came from somewhere, or it came out because I could not contain it): "Why are you telling me all this?" "I have to talk with someone, Müller." (Once again, only "Müller"! My question had diminished me. My question, that is to say: my fear.) "You are a good man. You were my student and you are honest. Your spirit has the transparency of the peasant spirit, or the originary. I trust you". I asked, again I asked: "Why did you resign the rectorship?" "Professor Müller", he said. (Professor Müller! My new question had returned his respect. It was a brave question. Not many question Being about the motives for its unveilings.) He continued: "Since 1934, only at the start of that year with thunder but without greatness, I knew my demotion was imminent. Following, subsequently, the killings of June 30 (I refer to this, Professor Müller, when I speak of thunder and not of greatness), I had no doubts about my actions. I could not take part in that. After that date the university would fill with odious presences, detestable to me. And so it was. I don't regret it." "But you are still here. You continue to give classes." "Don't worry: I'll continue. Are you attending my class in metaphysics?" I said yes. He said: "Don't miss the next one. You will assist not merely a class. You will assist, Professor Müller, to the ontological exposition of National Socialism, to the historical mission of our people as soul of the West. Listen, there is still truth and there is greatness in National Socialism. But it won't be Baeumler or Rosenberg who can express it". I swore to him I wouldn't miss it. "You can go", he said. I turned, took some steps and again his voice, ordering: "Müller!" I approached him. He grabbed me by the arm. Heidegger was strong. His hand was a claw, and a claw hurts. "There is still time", he said and his brow shined. "Don't lose hope. National Socialism is the only movement capable of reconciling man with technology. If that is achieved, we'll have saved ourselves." He relaxed his hand and returned to his reading.

I left.

Labels: The Shadow of Heidegger

¶ 4:51 AM