Ernst Jünger's The Forest Passage explores the possibility of resistance: how the independent thinker can withstand and oppose the power of the omnipresent state. No matter how extensive the technologies of surveillance become, the forest can shelter the rebel, and the rebel can strike back against tyranny. Jünger's manifesto is a defense of freedom against the pressure to conform to political manipulation and artificial consensus. A response to the European experience under Nazism, Fascism, and Communism, The Forest Passage has lessons equally relevant for today, wherever an imposed uniformity threatens to stifle liberty.
Ernst Jünger was a decorated German soldier and author who became famous for his World War I memoir Storm of Steel. The son of a successful businessman and chemist, Jünger rebelled against an affluent upbringing and sought adventure in the Wandervogel, before running away to briefly serve in the French Foreign Legion, an illegal act. Because he escaped prosecution in Germany due to his father's efforts, Junger was able to enlist on the outbreak of war. A fearless leader who admired bravery above all else, he enthusiastically participated in actions in which his units were sometimes virtually annihilated. During an ill-fated German offensive in 1918 Junger's WW1 career ended with the last and most serious of his many woundings, and he was awarded the Pour le Mérite, a rare decoration for one of his rank.
Junger served in World War II as captain in the German Army. Assigned to an administrative position in Paris, he socialized with prominent artists of the day such as Picasso and Jean Cocteau. His early time in France is described in his diary Gärten und Straßen (1942, Gardens and Streets). He was also in charge of executing younger German soldiers who had deserted. In his book Un Allemand à Paris , the writer Gerhard Heller states that he had been interested in learning how a person reacts to death under such circumstances and had a morbid fascination for the subject.
Jünger appears on the fringes of the Stauffenberg bomb plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler (July 20, 1944). He was clearly an inspiration to anti-Nazi conservatives in the German Army, and while in Paris he was close to the old, mostly Prussian, officers who carried out the assassination attempt against Hitler. He was only peripherally involved in the events however, and in the aftermath suffered only dismissal from the army in the summer of 1944, rather than execution.
In the aftermath of WW2 he was treated with some suspicion as a closet Nazi. By the latter stages of the Cold War his unorthodox writings about the impact of materialism in modern society were widely seen as conservative rather than radical nationalist, and his philosophical works came to be highly regarded in mainstream German circles. Junger ended his extremely long life as a honoured establishment figure, although critics continued to charge him with the glorification of war as a transcending experience.
Ernst Jünger was one of the more fascinating men of the twentieth century. Remembered in the English-speaking world primarily for his World War I memoir, "The Storm of Steel," he was famous in Europe for a range of right-leaning thought spanning nearly eighty years (he lived from 1896 to 1998). His output was prodigious, more than fifty books along with voluminous correspondence, and not meant or useful as a seamless ideology, although certain themes apparently recur. This book, "The Forest Passage," was published in 1951, and is a compelling examination of how life should be conducted under modern ideological tyranny.
Jünger’s answer is jarring, both in its originality, and in its flat rejection of any relevancy of those modern (though failing) totems, liberal democracy and egalitarianism. Jünger was no Nazi; he contemptuously rejected their efforts to profit off his reputation, and was tangentially involved in the Stauffenberg plot. But he had just as little use for modern democracy or liberalism; much of his thought seems to have revolved around a type of social and political elitism with a spiritual core. It appears that "The Forest Passage" was his first exploration of the specific topic of resistance to tyranny; he developed the thought in this book further with a novel published in 1977, "Eumeswil," which I have not read.
This is quite a difficult book to read; it can be opaque, and it assumes the reader’s recognition of various oblique references (I had to look up that Champollion was a decrypter of Egyptian hieroglyphics, for example). This 2013 edition, from Telos Press, is greatly helped by occasional notes (though more would have been better), and an outstanding introduction from Russell Berman. Most of Jünger’s books have not been translated, and Telos, a left-leaning entity, has usefully been translating and reprinting at least a few, all of which I have bought and am now working through as I explore alternatives to our own crumbling social and political system.
Jünger had lived through World War I (barely), receiving numerous awards for bravery, and become famous for "The Storm of Steel." That book was and is often criticized for being the mirror image of anti-war writings, from the British war poets to "All Quiet on the Western Front." Jünger did not oppose the war, even after its disastrous end; he liked certain aspects of it, regarding them as spiritually valuable, even epic. (In this he was much like Erwin Rommel, who also wrote a memoir that made him famous, though Rommel was practical about his like for war, not spiritual). During the interwar period Jünger was a key figure in the so-called “Conservative Revolution,” the loose movement of intellectuals (including Oswald Spengler and Carl Schmitt), opposed to Weimar and democracy, and more broadly to modernism and individualism, as well as to the coming thing, Communism. During the war, Jünger also opposed the Nazis, mostly passively, although he wrote a novel implicitly critical of Hitler ("On The Marble Cliffs"), something he could get away with because of his fame. After the war, for decades, he was a leading public intellectual, never forgiven by the dominant Left for his rightist views, but able to haughtily ignore their carping, and widely honored until the end of his life.
In 1951, of course, Germany stood between the immediate past of Nazism and the immediate threat of Soviet Communism. This is the backdrop of "The Forest Passage," and the book cannot be understood without keeping it in mind. That said, Jünger’s thought is directed at challenging any ideological tyranny, which includes, increasingly, our own Western “liberal democracy.” What should a person oppressed by such a tyrannical state do? The book is really an answer on two levels: what he should do in the external world, and what he should do in his internal world. More precisely, it is an exploration of how the latter should drive the former. Jünger was not George Orwell, predicting the victory of global tyranny. In fact, he was quite optimistic about the future, predicting elsewhere that ultimately technology would allow a global state, a “planetary order,” to emerge under which humans could flourish. But in "The Forest Passage" he was interested in tyrannies present or future, whatever their origin, and how one should live under them.
Jünger begins by discussing how in an oppressive state the mere act of voting “no” where ninety-eight percent vote “yes,” as demanded and enforced by the state and by one’s fellow voters, is an act of rebellion. It does not matter that the state actually wants fewer than one hundred percent to vote “yes,” because that way the vote seems more realistic, and, more importantly, the state can thereby justify further action against its opponents, whose existence is by the vote made visible to all, and also therefore the need for their suppression so that Utopia can finally be reached (although, as in Zeno’s Paradox, it can never actually be, for that would deprive the dictatorship of its reason for seeking more power). “Dictatorships cannot survive on pure affirmation—they need hate, and with it terror, to provide a simultaneous counterbalance.” (This is true also of proto-dictatorships, such as today’s American Left. As Shelby Steele has recently pointed out, the Left existentially needs to see racism everywhere, so they can keep whipping up hate to augment their power through terror.) Rather, the point of, and the meaning of, the vote “no” is not to “shake the opponent, but [to] change the person who has decided to go through with it.” He, by the choice of voting “no,” or by any equivalent choice, becomes a “forest rebel,” transformed into something new, who takes the “forest passage,” taking actions that are also something new.
Here, “something new” is not a throwaway line of mere contrast to the existing tyranny. The newness of the forest rebel’s path is critical to Jünger’s analysis. The man who votes “no,” the freshly minted forest rebel, is not trying to turn back to the old ways of democracy, or any other specific prior political system. Those are dead and gone, along with his own past individual nature. He is on a new path. “This is why the numerous attempts under the Caesars to return to the republic had to fail. The republicans either fell in the civil war, or they came out of it transformed.” You cannot go back. The way is shut. While Jünger is focused on tyranny, this principle is more generally applicable, as Jünger’s reference to Rome shows. In fact, I think that newness is a critical element in planning our own future. For Reaction, something I wish to implement after the inevitable rupture as our own system dies, is properly viewed not a turning back, as its caricaturists and opponents would have it, but the creation of a new thing informed, in part, by the wisdom of the past. This is what Jünger calls “retrospection,” conducted by a small minority, made possible because “in the nature of things,” “when catastrophes announce themselves . . . the initiative will always pass into the hands of a select minority who prefer danger to servitude.” Failing to grasp that newness is essential, and must be accepted and made central, will lead to nostalgia, and thence to dissonance and failure of all political plans and action.
What most of all characterizes the forest rebel is his devotion to freedom. He is internally completely free, and he works for external freedom as well. These things set him apart from both the tyrannical state and the mass of men. But it essential to note that Jünger is not a libertarian. His idea of freedom has very little in common with Robert Nozick and less with Milton Friedman. The freedom of the forest rebel is not the freedom to do as he pleases; it is not the unbridled autonomy and atomized individualism that were the poison at the heart of the Enlightenment and are the engine of its destruction. Those are “unworthy interpretations” of freedom; Jünger specifically sneers at the French Revolution. Nor is it exactly the older conception of freedom, the ability to choose rightly, although it is much closer to that than to libertarianism. Rather, it is a modernized version of that, consisting of two related threads. First, and concretely, the refusal to obey or even acknowledge the commands of an oppressive and malevolent, state. Second, and abstractly, a spiritual core with which the forest rebel analyzes his decisions, informed by a rejection of degrading “automatism” and its consequence, “fatalism,” in favor of self-rule and of the virtues of “art, philosophy, and theology.”
Jünger’s analysis of voting under tyranny prefigures Václav Havel’s famous analysis of the grocer who refuses to put the sign “Workers of the World, Unite!” in his shop window. For Havel, this is refusing to “live within a lie,” which allows the grocer to reclaim his identity and dignity, but for which he must pay, because even this minor act of defiance threatens the entire regime, even though it has no explicitly political intent or meaning. The forest rebel’s attitude is much the same. And even though Jünger focuses more on the rebel’s internal mental state than his specific external actions, he is quite clear that he expects the forest rebel, ultimately, to act, rather than merely ruminate.
Confusingly, at the same time Jünger sometimes seems to say that the forest rebel mostly lives and acts completely in isolation, in the forest, a type of garden, but a solitary one. True, the forest rebel battles “Leviathan,” but his is sometimes characterized as a holding action, to keep himself from the degradation of the masses who acquiesce, and, implicitly, to form the core of something to come. This ambiguity as to the actual actions to be taken may be deliberate, for Jünger knows that context dictates action, and he has no Marxist-flavored belief in inevitable turns of history. Ultimately, he says that “The armor of the new Leviathans has its own weak points, which must continually be felt out, and this assumes both caution and daring of a previously unknown quality. We may imagine an elite opening this battle for a new freedom, a battle that will demand great sacrifices and which should leave no room for any interpretations that are unworthy of it.” Thus, Jünger always returns to the concept of battle, and it is a fair conclusion that is what he expects of the ideal forest rebel. “The task of the forest rebel is to stake out vis-à-vis the Leviathan the measures of freedom that are to obtain in future ages. He will not get by this opponent with mere ideas.”
The forest rebel is therefore exemplified by William Tell, mentioned twice in this brief book. Tell, of course, was the (probably mythical, but no matter) fifteenth-century Swiss crossbowman who shot an apple off his son’s head at the command of the malevolent state, represented by Albrecht Gessler, proxy for the Habsburg dukes who ruled Tell’s canton. Gessler’s command was punishment for Tell refusing to salute Gessler’s hat, which he had placed on a pole and then required the people to salute, in order to humiliate them and bring low their spirit. Most of us remember that Tell put two crossbow bolts in his belt, and when asked by Gessler, after successfully shooting the apple, why he had done that, replied that the second was for Gessler, had Tell hit his son. Most of us probably do not remember the second act of the story—Tell escapes, to the forest, and then soon ambushes Gessler and assassinates him, starting a successful rebellion. (By coincidence, I bought several books on Tell for my children a few weeks ago. I am glad I did that; these are important lessons and guides to action, and I am willing to bet zero children are told Tell’s story in most schools today.) Tell was no libertarian—he was a free man in a free society, but he was bound by, and loyal to, that society and its rules. His was the freedom of Leonidas, not of Hugh Hefner.
Tell is, however, not the only rebel Jünger praises—one other, an anonymous man, gets his nod. Speaking of the breakdown of the rule of law in 1933 Berlin, and the acquiescence of the population in Nazi suppression of political opponents, he says “A laudable exception deserves mention here, that of a young social democrat who shot down half a dozen so-called auxiliary policemen [i.e., NSDAP storm troopers] at the entrance of his apartment. He still partook of the substance of the old Germanic freedom, which his enemies only celebrated in theory.” It’s hard to miss Jünger’s message, and it’s not that the forest rebel should meditate silently on freedom while sitting at home.
Both by such examples, and by explicit statements, Jünger is clear that his contemplated rebellion is not one of raising an army, but of ad hoc or guerrilla warfare. When striking physically at the state, the forest rebel is not to worry unduly about the mechanics of rebellion. Instead, he must focus on tools and getting the party started. The details will take care of themselves. “In regard to organizing maneuvers and exercises, setting up bases and systems adapted to the new form of resistance—in short, in regard to the whole practical side of things, people will always emerge who will occupy themselves with these aspects and give them form.” Therefore, “More important is to apply the old maxim that a free man be armed—and not with arms under lock and key in an armory or barracks, but arms kept in his apartment, under his own bed.” Moreover, in matters of arms, a man “makes his own sovereign decisions.” Jünger would not approve of today’s gun grabbers, any more than he did of the gun grabbing by the Nazis or the Bolsheviks, because he saw clearly what the seizure of arms always made possible and was, and is, intended to make possible, whether by Lenin or Dianne Feinstein—the triumph of the totalitarian state.
Even aside from open rebellion, though, the forest rebel has an outsized effect relative to his numbers. He is a “chemical reagent”; because he is (physically) surrounded by others, he will influence them. Hence the growth in police in oppressive states, and “these wolves [the forest rebels] are not only strong in themselves; there is also the danger that one fine morning they will transmit their characteristics to the masses, so that the flock turns into a pack. This is a ruler’s nightmare.” (Here Jünger departs from Havel, since Havel thinks that the “wolf” is actually representative of the majority of people, and Jünger thinks most people are intellectually complicit with the tyrannical state, which is perhaps why Havel rejected revolt, preferring the power of example.) How are those characteristics transmitted? Through imagination, which “provides the basic force for the action.” Imagination is not itself enough, but it, poetry writ large, provides the spark. I would only add that the impact of imagination cannot be predicted. Cometh the hour, cometh the man, but it is impossible to know anything more in advance, which makes it essential that the forest rebel keep the powder needed to set alight the conflagration dry and ready to hand.
Jünger, and the forest rebel, laugh at the idea of egalitarianism as a denial of basic reality. The forest rebel is an aristocrat, not of blood, but of virtue, which is real aristocracy. To Jünger and the forest rebel, it is blindingly obvious that all men are not equal—they may be equal before God, but the forest rebel is the superior of the masses, for his choice is hard and risk-filled, yet objectively better. Not for Jünger the idea that each man’s choice is merely each man’s choice. No, some choices are better, and therefore, the people who make them are superior. They are a “heroic elite.” This aristocracy is open to all; Jünger says that the freedom he calls for “is prefigured in myth and in religions, and it always returns; so, too, the giants and the titans always manifest with the same apparent superiority. The free man brings them down; and he need not always be a prince or a Hercules. A stone from a shepherd’s sling, a flag raised by a virgin, and a crossbow have already proven sufficient.” David, Joan of Arc, and William Tell are the elite. “This miracle has happened, even countless times, when a man stepped out of the lifeless numbers to extend a helping hand to others. . . . Whatever the situation, whoever the other, the individual can become this fellow human being—and thereby reveal his native nobility. The origins of aristocracy lay in giving protection, protection from the threat of monsters and demons. This is the hallmark of nobility, and it still shines today in the guard who secretly slips a piece of bread to a prisoner. This cannot be lost, and on this the world subsists.”
It is not only in his demand for private weapons and his disdain for egalitarianism that Jünger is wildly not politically correct, a bone in the throat of today’s Left. Not for Jünger other modern ideas, such as false gender equality or the idea that the liberal democratic state is the real bulwark of our real freedoms. “Long periods of peace foster certain optical illusions: one is the conviction that the inviolability of the home is grounded in the constitution, which should guarantee it. In reality, it is grounded in the family father, who, sons at his side, fills the doorway with an axe in hand.” This is not a fashionable set of ideas, but I’m betting all of them are about to gain fresh traction.
Along the same lines, it is very clear, though mostly below the surface in this book, that Jünger thinks highly of vigorous religious belief, as opposed to modern godless ideologies, as a key part of a forest rebel’s thought. A transcendent belief is necessary for the forest rebel to succeed, or even to be a forest rebel. Jünger praises “churches and sects” as a counterpoint to what drives the tyrannies he fears, “natural science raised to the level of philosophical perfection.” (He also specifically exalts Helmuth James von Moltke, the deeply Christian founder of the Kreisau Circle, executed by the Nazis in 1945.) Faith means freedom; materialism reinforces tyranny. Religion (implicitly Christianity, for Jünger tells us Christ has shown the way to conquer the root of all fears, the fear of death) is good, it prepares man “for paths that lead into darkness and the unknown,” though not enough by itself, and in any case it will always be persecuted by the tyrannical state, which insists on absolute power. Thus, we find “tyrannical regimes so rabidly persecuting such harmless creatures as the Jehovah’s Witnesses—the same tyrannies that reserve seats of honor for their nuclear physicists.”
Kao i uvek kod Jingera reč je o estetizovanom militarizmu iako se on, shodno dužini autorovog veka i promeni političke situacije, menjao. Ali to je to, larpurartizam premešten u rat, kako je to sa neodbravanjem primetio Valter Benjamin.
“Odmetnik” je poetski politički esej iz 1953. o trećoj figuri savremenosti od ukupno četiri koliko ih je Jinger opisao. Dok su koncepti Vojnika u prvim redovima i Radnika nastali između dva svetska rata, Odmetnik je nastao nakon sloma Nemačke iako je njegov koncept već bio, manje više, oblikovan i u romanu “Na mermernim liticama” iz 1939. godine. Prve dve su kolektivne, dok bi Odmetnik bio individualna, kao i figura Anarha koja će nastati dvadeset godina kasnije.
Ukratko i uprošćeno, kao i ostale figure, Odmetnik je ničeanska forma, suprostavljen Radniku. Dok bi radnik bio anonimna kolektivna masa savremenosti koja se daje u službi tehnologije gradeći do tada u istoriji neviđen totalitarni sistem, ali osvajajući nezamislivu moć (savremenost su ponovo nastanili titani i zamenili bogove u cikličnom toku istorije), Odmetnik bi bio borac, poput vojnika na frontu, ali borac koji odbacuje aktivnu bezličnost, jer namerava da sačuva svoju slobodu u odnosu na uzrok koji brani. U tom smislu, Odmetnik se ne može identifikovati ni sa jednim sistemom, čak ni onim za koji se bori. On se ne oseća prijatno u bilo kojem od njih. Ono za šta se bori je sa druge strane savrenosti, u svevremenosti. Stoga on u pustinji (ili iza pustinje) koju stvara savremenost, pronalazi obilje koje postoji izvan vremena, oličeno u šumi, u koju bi trebalo da ga upućuje filozofija, umetnost i teologija. Ako bi trebalo da je situiramo u biblioteci, Jingerova imaginacija bi bila deo onog evropskog strujanja koja je modernost osvajala na osnovu svoje antimodernosti, a toj lozi bi bili različti autori, uglavnom ideološko desno, poput kasnog Hesea, Junga, Miloša Crnjanskog, Malapartea, Žilijena Graka i sličnih.
Iako se u eseju oseća istorijski trenutak pedestih, Hladni rat i Nemačke podeljenje između Sovjeta i Amerike, Jinger se trudi da sadržaj situira u apstraktnijim predelima mita. I tu imamo vrlo neobičan i za mene umetnički uzbudljiv spoj dva estetska modusa. Prvi je vezan za radnika i tehnofobiju oličenu u slikama i metaforama koje imaju uporište u vizualima nemačkog ekspresionizma (recimo Fric Lang režira sajns fikšn) drugi je vezan za estetiku romantičnih slikarskih platana sa mitološkim temama sa kraja 19. veka. Stoga u Jingerovoj viziji imamo svet kao Titanik koji plovi pustinjom u punom sjaju metala, tehnike i automatizovanih ljudi, ali se može očekivati da iz gvozdenog brodskog poda iznikne džungla iz koje će iskočiti tigrovi i svakojaka druga zverad, kao u mitu o tirenskim gusarima i otmici boga Dionisa,
There is no denying that we live in turbulent times, as a nearly dystopian reality is unfolding before our eyes, nihilism, idleness and fear almost being turned into virtues, yet by breaking away from the veil of propaganda, ascending towards higher values, reminiscing of the Promethean myth, it is in our power to lay the foundation stone for a saner world, as highlighted by the ideal of the Waldgänger, one of the three archetypes found in Ernst Jünger's writings, alongside the Worker and the Unknown Soldier. "The Forest Passage” showcases a vivid rendition of a society where free speech, freedom of will and nonconformity are frowned upon, obedience and blind trust being preferred, those who snap out of the trance, pursuing the truth in a form of intellectual guerilla, oftentimes finding themselves as social outcasts, this solitary path nevertheless not subduing their spirit, as they realise that going back to an idealised past is not attainable, instead acknowledging the endless possibilities offered by the future and fighting for what matters most. The Waldgänger does not watch from the sidelines as the world burns around him, he is not held captive by the empire of fear, the pen and the blade being his most loyal companions; the forest evoked by Jünger not solely depicting a natural safe haven, but an environment shaped by hardship, perseverance and unflinching spirituality. "The Forest Passage” will not fade into obscurity, as the ideas portrayed by it are still as relevant today as they were 70 years ago, and no matter how uncomfortable the reader might feel, as every aspect of his reality is challenged, he should not shy away from it, as growth requires pain and it is worth the sacrifice.
"Jezik ne živi po sopstvenim zakonima jer bi, inače, svetom vladali gramatičari. U prauzroku reč više nije obrazac, nije ključ. Ona biva identična sa bivstvom. Ona postaje stvaralačka moć. A tamo leži ogromna, neprocenjiva snaga. Ovde dolazi samo do aproksimacija. Jezik tka oko tišine kao što se oaza smešta oko izvora. A pesma potvrđuje da je ulazak u bezvremenske vrtove uspeo. Vreme onda živi od toga.
Čak u epohama u kojima je jezik spao na sredstvo tehničara i birokrata i gde on, da bi dočarao lažnu svežinu, pokušava da pozajmljuje od šatrovačkog govora, on ostaje sasvim neoslabljen u svojoj mirujućoj moći. Sivilo, prašnjavost lepi se samo na njegovu površinu. Ko kopa dublje, stiže u svakoj pustinji do vodonosnog sloja. A sa vodom narasta nova plodnost." (68)
"… hier heißt es, mit den Wölfen heulen oder gegen sie ins Feld ziehen …"
This essay from the early 1950s made for uncomfortable reading, in tone and in substance, and also in the mixture of the two. The voice here is supremely controlled and equanimous but calls in no uncertain terms for a radical form of resistance. The mix has something Mephistophelian and chills to the bone. Qua substance there is much which goes against the grain of my personal worldview.
Der Waldgang is an individual act of resistance in an era that is affected by total nihilism. With great vitality nihilism clothes itself in the garb of liberal democracies and totalitarian regimes alike. Moral relativism, obsession with technology, statistical laws that explain the behavior of 'the collective’, and fear, particularly fear, are the order of the day.
“In fact, increasing automation and fear feed upon each other. Technical supports constrain people in their agency. This engenders comfort, but it inevitably also brings about a loss of freedom (…) Merely the need to check the news regularly during the day is a sign of fear. The delusions grow and paralyse in an upward spiral movement.”
Seven decades later we are moving relentlessly but terror-stricken into an age of big data, artificial intelligence, fake news and round-the-clock social media frenzy. Terror domesticates. Jünger: “The position of a domesticated animal gives way to that of an animal ready for slaughter” [In German it sounds more bitingly "Die Lage des Haustiers zieht die des Schlachttiers nach.”]
The metaphorical 'passage into the woods’ is to resist this remorseless movement towards serfdom. Even as an isolated individual: “Es geht nicht mehr um Zahlenverhältnisse, sondern um Seinsverdichtungen.” (Again, in English it sounds more tamely “This is not a matter of quantities but of quality of being.”) The ‘Woodman’ extends the heroic archetype of the soldier holding the ‘Verlorene Posten’ (the untenable position). But the one who disappears into the woods is not a soldier, or an anarchist for that matter. It’s a new archetype that has as its core purpose to embody a radical freedom, beyond doubt and pain.“Today, freedom is the big theme. It is the power that is able to subdue fear. The main duty of the free person is to model it in an effective way and to reveal it in resistance." Jünger's view resonates here more with contemporaneous existentialists than he cared to admit.
The tactics of the ‘woodmen’ vary. They disrupt when they can, they blend in when necessary. Displays of kind-heartedness and generosity can also signal resistance. Underlying all is a radical autarky, a careful avoidance of the strictures of the system, a focus on the here and now, a distaste for abstractions, a contact with the numinous and the sources of moral rectitude that have not yet been spoiled by nihilism.
Jünger criss-crosses these themes rhapsodically in 33 short chapters. The voice is barely raised, but the granite prose deals blow after blow to our smug, post-modernist worldview. There is much in these pages from which I instinctively recoiled. But I also sensed that there is a piece of truth in there that demands to be acknowledged. We need to get rid of our fear and sense of guilt - not, as mainstream conservative pundits would like us to believe, in favour of a ‘rational weighing of risks’ - but in response to an uncompromising sense of merit and self-respect.
A deeply Christian work. The very first few chapters were honestly not as interesting as the rest of the book but I understand why they had to be written. I love God more now, thank you Jünger.
“Yet the suffering passes and is transfigured into poetry.”
Рассчитывал на пачку эссе об эскапизме, а получил пафосный манифест об осознанности и о силе меньшинств от мужчины, проигравшего две мировые войны. Подобный контент требует соответствующего интеллектуального запроса и определенного настроя, я же снова с улицы зашёл и иногда смеялся над формулировками вроде “И забрезжит грозный рассвет, и стадо превратится в стаю. Это ночной кошмар власть имущих.” Но я полагаю, для ряда горячих молодых людей анархического/революционного склада ума эта книга вполне может стать настольной именно благодаря пассионарности текста.
Да, кое-что безбожно устарело, кое-что даже опа��но, а ближе к концу вообще начинается эзотерика формата “мысль материальна”, но вынужден признать, что некоторые наблюдения неожиданно точны и ёмки. Особенно на следующий день после “выборов” в Беларуси. Некоторые вещи никогда не меняются независимо от того, какой сейчас год: 1951 или 2020.
None of us can know today if tomorrow morning we will not be counted as part of a group considered outside the law. In that moment the civilized veneer of life changes, as the state props of well-being disappear and are transformed into omens of destruction. The luxury liner becomes a battleship, or the black jolly roger and the red executioner’s flag are hoisted on it. Jünger tells of his passage through the forest and shows us the path hidden in the trees. It's a book about tyranny and freedom. About the individual and the masses. About thought and action. A book that raises questions. Are we free? We can only understand this by looking inward, away from the masses; by going through the forest, a place of isolation and reflection, of true freedom, of resistance, of honor, of forgotten virtues, of spiritual silence.
Planimetría de la figura del Emboscado –superación de las otras dos figuras de la modernidad: el Trabajador y el Soldado Anónimo—es una formidable reflexión de la condición humana y una tentativa para su salvación en un mundo deshumanizado, asediado por la impronta eficaz y racional de la máquina (y sus fieles seguidores; hoy incorporaríamos el mundo digital, las redes sociales y el algoritmo; a Jünger le explotaría la cabeza) y perdido en una realidad sin sujeciones a las que aferrarse, una realidad desnaturalizada. Como alternativa ‘el bosque’ como refugio, el bosque como imagen de salvación y el emboscado como el sujeto que articula esa salvación a través de su particularidad (singularidad) y su lucha por la supervivencia de su autonomía; los emboscados debían de sobrevivir sin contar ayuda de nadie en mitad de los bosques (cuando eran expulsados de la comunidad)
La emboscadura es también una profunda y punzante reflexión sobre la democracia (la calidad del voto), los mecanismos del poder y su racionalidad y el peso de las mayorías (y su fácil manipulación; queda hoy todavía más presente con los medios de comunicación y la desinformación).
Obra de un lenguaje depurado, poético –en algún momento críptico—pero sobre todo envuelto de un poderoso halo de misterio.
Necesita de una segunda, una tercera e incluso una cuarta lectura.
De leitura complexa, mas não menos interessante, Ernst Jünger continua a ser dos meus escritores alemães preferidos.
"Der Waldgang" trata-se de um ensaio publicado em 1951 e, entre as várias ideias apresentadas, foca-se na do "Waldgänger", aquele que dotado de força própria (sem ser um anarquista) retira-se para a floresta, onde encontra a liberdade no conteúdo e na forma, "aqui e agora". Porque o Waldgänger é de acções livres e independentes (e, portanto, também nada tem a ver com um soldado da guerra), é uma espécie de "rebelde da floresta", que olha, analisa e julga por si próprio. Sem se preocupar com o que o inimigo pensa dele, até porque ele está habituado à solidão...
A floresta é, pois, entendida como um lugar secreto, um santuário, um lugar de paz. Talvez até um lugar de resistência e de verdadeira força depois de feita a "passagem através da morte".
E a verdade é que não basta ler uma única vez este livro. Há que lê-lo várias vezes até se compreender devidamente a mensagem de Jünger e se perceber quem é o Waldgänger e qual a sua importância nos nossos dias (e no pós Segunda Guerra Mundial, anos cinquenta, quando é publicado pela primeira vez).
Честно говоря, я даже не смог дочитать. Эта какая-то адская пафосная каша из мифологизма и онанизма. Тотальный пиздец, я как будто почитал госпожу Блаватскую или что-то из эзотериков. Не знаю какой должен быть запрос, чтобы без смеха читать все эти пассажи про космологическую энергию одиночки, черпаемую из недр то ли космоса, то ли духа, то ли земли. Это первая часть книги, вторая - дед не выпил таблетки и рассказывает тебе, что вот раньше и без компухтеров и свартфонов обходились! Какие-то отдельные фразы могут котироваться в цитаты, но в целом, это больше походит на абсолютное безумие, сдобренное идеализмом, мифологизмом и отсылками на символы всех возможных религий и верований до кучи.
Inquietantemente actual. Era una premonición o realmente Ernst Junger conocía el futuro? La libertad está en boca de muchos como la bazofia en boca de los cerdos, pero sólo unos muy pocos la valoran de verdad. Pero esos muy pocos tienen todo lo necesario para afirmar su independencia y soberanía humana, y lo más importante, no tienen miedo. Las religiones han caído pero el testigo lo llevan ahora los fanáticos ciegos de la falsa ciencia, de las multinacionales farmacéuticas y otras industrias que buscan la extinción de lo humano, física y espiritualmente. El miedo, siempre es el miedo lo que nos impide actuar cuando debemos hacerlo.
Un libro che andrà riletto più volte. Junger da' l'idea di aver previsto tutto più di mezzo secolo fa. Necessario per capire il vero concetto di "libertà" e non quella che ci propinano in televisione o sui giornali.
Inclasificable ensayo que, pese al tiempo transcurrido, sigue proyectando un mensaje atemporal. Se hayan ecos del superhombre de Nietzsche, la teoría de las élites de Ortega e incluso una prefiguración del homo sacer agambesco, pero pese a las semejanzas ocasionales, Junger moldea a este "emboscado" con un tacto versátil, abierto, evocativo y sugerente.
Eslabón clave del pensamiento jungeriano, a menudo tildado de conservador, el cuál trasciende las etiquetas políticas para elevarse al rango de poesía metapolitica. Por supuesto, el problema de su obra radica en como sea utilizada e interpretada, debido a ciertas pinceladas históricas donde el trauma nazi germano todavía palpitaba con demasiado ruido.
Polémico, iracundo, meditado y elegante, se trata de un ensayo que, pese haber sido reelaborado por gran cantidad de autores posteriores una y otra vez (todo puede sonar a ya dicho) mantiene su inteligencia como memoria de la libertad humana en los epígonos de la contemporaneidad.
If I had the ability, I would go back in time to give my past self this book, and tell him to steer far away from any books, figures, and concepts related to “libertarianism”, “equality” and other topics which ultimately represent spiritual compromise.
Jünger delivers a clear guide on how man must compose himself in a world which actively despises the notion of his existence. To above the sickness and the filth to compose yourself as a true man among desolation and depravity.
“Che altri si vantino delle pagine che hanno scritto, io sono orgoglioso di quelle che ho letto”
Non sono riuscita a staccarmi dalle pagine. Letture come questa mi rimettono in pace con il mondo! Sarebbe da far leggere nelle scuole, sarebbe. Ma poi guardi l’autore ed è uno di quelli dissonanti...
Waldgang, ovvero "passaggio al bosco". Dietro un'espressione all'apparenza così semplice si nasconde un significato potente: in tempi come i nostri, "passare al bosco" è al tempo stesso un rifiuto delle norme sociali, che omologano ogni cittadino, e un percorso esistenziale che passa attraverso morte e rinascita. Consapevolezza a un livello superiore. Significa liberarsi delle strutture sovratemporali - comprendere lo spirito del tempo in relazione coi corsi e i ricorsi storici, per poi nullificarne l'effetto - e assumersi la responsabilità di dire "no" anche quando è a rischio la propria piccola pace personale.
Non si può essere "ribelli" (Waldgänger, coloro che passano al bosco) fuori se non lo si è anche dentro: passare al bosco presuppone anche una certa trasformazione interiore. Non si può vincere la paura se non si impara a guardarla in faccia.
Jünger solleva questioni che ancor oggi, a distanza di settant'anni, suonano quanto mai attuali, ma non dà risposte. La via la deve trovare il singolo, il ribelle, il Waldgänger: la forma della libertà muta a seconda delle necessità dei tempi correnti - da qui l'importanza dello hic et nunc - e la dialettica della Storia modifica i rapporti tra oppressi e oppressori. Fino a che punto la libertà è modellata dalla necessità e dove inizia la costrizione? Quale prezzo si è disposti a pagare per liberarsi della mutevole paura del tempo, passando così - metaforicamente - al bosco?
Al centro di questo "passaggio" non è un gruppo che si organizza, ma l'uomo - inteso come entità spirituale - che deve squarciare il velo per trovare l'essenza oltre l'apparenza, le verità che sopravvivono alle distorsioni del tempo. Solo quando in molti saranno "passati al bosco", si potrà parlare di un vero cambiamento.
Compreendo onde Jünger quer chegar, mas ele recorre à figura de um arquétipo para explicar coisas que são demasiado complexas para um arquétipo. Faria mais sentido se tivesse escrito um romance e depois uma análise ao mesmo. Ou então sou eu que continuo alérgica a este tipo de linguagem filosófica, ou ele não sabia escrever não-ficção, porque adorei ler Sobre as Falésias de Mármore do mesmo autor.
Achei a metáfora desnecessariamente floreada e complexificada, linguagem super masculina; o autor é contraditório, confuso e desorganizado em certos pontos, essencialista e pretensioso, até algo infantil porque parece que ele quer à força toda uma solução única para todos os problemas no mundo. Ele fala das complicações do sistema, e do quão difícil é construir uma oposição realmente eficaz a um sistema, mas depois não explora essa construção (essa sim, verdadeiramente complexa) - ou seja, preambula as ideias dele de forma a fazer acreditar que ele percebe que as coisas são complexas, mas depois o que faz é terminar em conclusões que são demasiado simples para a complexidade que supostamente demonstrou reconhecer a priori, e em vez disso atira essa complexidade para a forma da escrita em vez de a integrar no conteúdo de modo a corresponder à realidade e às ideias que se propôs desafiar e explorar.
Mais ainda, torci o nariz a algumas das ideias - umas por falta de fundamento científico, outras por irem terminantemente contra o meu sentido de ética.
The "pocket"(a military term) as a striking image of the age is still present in the life of each one of us. From now on, the whole individual's existence becomes a ring of encirclement closed by the flaming whirlwind of the state and society. If earlier He had a space for maneuvering, which allowed him to escape from mechanized life itself, now this opportunity is almost irrecoverably lost. "The social "encirclement"; the ring closes, and the hour of extermination arrives".
The book contains numerous topics that are important for the current day, and everyone can find something that disturbs him or her. Perhaps the metaphor of the forest as a symbol of freedom should be reconsidered again in the era of its total absence
Incomprensibile per menti mediocri. Sublime per menti eccellenti e per chi ha la consapevolezza di non essere realmente libero. Lettura comunque semplice e profonda allo stesso tempo. 5 stelle sono troppo poche.
Written in 1951, which you can tap into, even without knowing the publication date. Like, it's on this edge of, Oh, these passages could be written about today; but then, No, there's a familiar post-WWII sense about it. Lots of interesting, powerful, familiar ideas woven in a coherent way. Honest and respects the reader.
"Our reader will have learned from personal experience that the nature of questions themselves has changed. Today we are unremittingly approached by questioning powers, and these powers are not motivated solely by the ideal of increasing knowledge. [...] They are interested not in our solutions, but in our answers. This is an important difference. It turns the questioning into something closer to an interrogation." (2)
"In this regard, the solitary vote sets itself so far apart from all others that it even determines their market value. [...] Even where they are silent, like submerged boulders in the stream they always generate a certain agitation in their vicinity. [...] Viewing the matter from this angle, it appears that the power of an individual in the midst of the undifferentiated masses is not inconsiderable." (9)
"What a strange sight these proud, strutting states make: armed to the teeth and possessing all possible instruments of power, they are at the same time acutely sensitive. [...] Were the great masses as transparent, as aligned in their atoms as the propaganda claims, then no more police would be necessary than a shepherd needs dogs for his flock of sheep." (9)
"Why is it that [the Unknown Soldier] is so clearly connected in our memory with the First but not the Second World War?" (10)
"In general, man will tend to rely on the system or yield to it even when he should already be drawing on his own resources. [...] the great danger is that man relies too heavily on this assistance and becomes helpless when it fails to materialize. Every comfort must be paid for. " (11)
"Fear is symptomatic of our times—and it is all the more disturbing as it comes on the heels of an epoch of great individual freedom, in which hardships of the kind portrayed by Dickens were already virtually forgotten. How did such a shift come about? If we want to pick out a turning point, none could be more appropriate than the day the Titanic went down. Here light and shadow collide starkly: the hubris of progress with panic, the highest comfort with destruction, and automatism with a catastrophe manifested as a traffic accident." (13)
"However, these same men are not just fearful—they are also fearsome. The sentiment changes from fear to open hate the moment they notice a weakening in those they feared only a moment before. [...] The need to hear the news several times a day is already a sign of fear; the imagination grows and paralyzes itself in a rising vortex. The myriad antennae rising above our megacities resemble hairs standing on end—they provoke demonic contacts." (13)
"The basic question in this vortex is whether man can be liberated from fear. This is far more important than arming or supplying him with medicines—for power and health are prerogatives of the unafraid. [...] Fear and danger are so closely correlated that it is hardly possible to say which of the two powers generates the other. Since fear is the more important, we must begin there if we are to loosen the knot." (14)
"The locus of freedom is to be found elsewhere than in mere opposition, also nowhere that any flight can lead to. We have called it the forest. [...] In speaking of the individual here, we mean the [free] human being [...]. This person is not an exception, he represents no elite. Far more, he is concealed in each of us, and differences only arise from the varying degrees that individuals are able to effectuate the freedom that has been bestowed on them. In this, he needs help—the help of thinkers, knowers, friends, lovers. [...] The higher rhythm present in history as a whole may even be interpreted as man’s periodic rediscovery of himself. In all epochs, there will be powers that seek to force a mask on him, at times totemic powers, at times magical or technical ones. Rigidity then increases, and with it fear. The arts petrify, dogma becomes absolute. Yet, since time immemorial, the spectacle also repeats of man removing the mask, and the happiness that follows is a reflection of the light of freedom." (14)
"A potential error remains to be indicated here—that of a reliance on pure imagination. [...] For we cannot limit ourselves to knowing what is good and true on the top floors while fellow human beings are being flayed alive in the cellar. [...] The vapors of the flayers’ huts still hang in the air today; on such things, there must be no deceiving ourselves." (15)
"The historical world in which we find ourselves resembles a fast-moving vehicle, which at one moment presents its comfort aspects, at the next its horror aspects. It is the Titanic, and it is Leviathan. Since a moving object attracts the eye, it will remain concealed to most of the ship’s guests that they simultaneously exist in another realm, a realm of perfect stillness. This second realm is so superior as to contain the first within it like a plaything, as merely one of innumerable other manifestations. [...] We call it the forest. [...] Myth is not prehistory; it is timeless reality, which repeats itself in history. We may consider our own century’s rediscovery of meaning in myth as a favorable sign. Today, too, man has been conducted by powerful forces far out onto the ocean, deep into the deserts with their mask worlds. The journey will lose its threatening aspect the moment man recollects his own divine power." (15) [MLK Jr. - Strength to Love, two concurrent realms/ times; Four Worlds]
"If the retrospection is directed at the fathers and their systems, which lie closer to the origins, it will seek a conservative restoration. But in times of still greater danger the salvific power must be sought deeper, in the mothers. This contact liberates primal forces, to which the mere powers of time cannot stand up." (16)
"ff [the individual] awakens at night in terror—in a rich and peaceful country at that—this is as natural a reaction as someone’s head reeling at the brink of an abyss. [...] Indeed, the edge of the abyss is a good place to seek our own counsel." (16)
"Let us call this turn the Forest Passage, and the person who accomplishes it the Forest Rebel. [...] Although we will further refine the expression here, it is helpful that it already has a history in old Icelandic vocabulary. A forest passage followed a banishment; through this action a man declared his will to self-affirmation from his own resources. This was considered honorable, and it still is today, despite all the platitudes." (17)
"In the first place, the forest passage should not be understood as a form of anarchism directed against the machine world, although the temptation is strong, particularly when the effort simultaneously aims at reconnecting with myth. The mythical will undoubtedly come; it is already on its way. In reality, the mythical is always present, and at the given moment it rises like a treasure to the surface. But it will emerge from the movement, as a heterogeneous principle, only at its highest, supremely developed stage. In this sense, the movement is only the mechanism, the cry of birth." (17)
"With this, we also want to make clear that there are no veiled anti-eastern designs in this expression. The fear that circulates on our planet today is largely inspired by the east, and it is expressed in tremendous preparations, in material and intellectual spheres. As obvious as this may appear, it is not a basic motive but rather a consequence of the international situation. The Russians are in the same straits as everyone else; indeed, if fear is the measure, they are possibly still more strongly in its grip. But fear cannot be diminished by armaments, only by gaining a new access to freedom. [...] For Russians, too, the forest passage is the central issue." (17)
"To avoid losing the way among mirages, it is therefore a good idea to always keep the necessary in mind. Yet the necessary is given us with its freedom, and a new order can only constitute itself once these two establish a new relation with each other. In a temporal perspective, all changes in the necessary bring with them changes in freedom. This is why the concepts of freedom of 1789 have become untenable and ineffective in controlling the violence. Freedom itself, on the other hand, is immortal, though always dressed in the garments of the times. Moreover, it must be earned each time anew. Inherited freedom must be reasserted in the forms that the encounter with historical necessity impresses on it." (18)
"By fixating our imagination on the most extreme routes, we overlook the road in front of us. However, here too, the one need not exclude the other. Rather, reason demands that we ponder the possibilities in their totality and prepare a response for each of them, like a series of chess moves. In our present situation we are obliged to reckon with catastrophe, even take the possibility to bed with us, so that it does not surprise us in the middle of the night." (19)
"Man has immersed himself too deeply in the constructions, he has devalued himself and lost contact with the ground. This brings him close to catastrophe, to great danger, and to pain. They drive him into untried territory, lead him toward destruction. How strange that it is just there—ostracized, condemned, fleeing—that he encounters himself anew, in his undivided and indestructible substance. With this he passes through the mirror images and recognizes himself in all his might." (20)
"It is advantageous that in our present condition we are at least not wasting away in complete torpor. For we ascend not only to great heights of self-awareness, but also to severe self-criticism. This a sign of high cultures, which raise their vaults above the dream world." (21)
"Even when the cathedrals crumble, a patrimony of knowledge remains that undermines the palaces of the oppressors like catacombs. Already on these grounds we may be sure that the pure use of force, exercised in the old manner, cannot prevail in the long term. With this blood, substance was infused into history, and it is with good reason that we still number our years from this epochal turning point." (21)
"Human greatness must ever and again be won anew. [...] Here is the authentic substance of history: in man’s encounter with himself, that is, with his own divine power. Anyone aspiring to teach history should know this. Socrates called this most profound place, from which a voice advised and directed him—no longer even with words—his Daimonion. We could also call it the forest." (21)
"Every fear, however distantly derived it may seem, is at its core the fear of death. If a man succeeds in creating breathing room here, he will gain freedom also in other spheres that are ruled by fear. Then he will fell the giants whose weapons are terror. [...] It is in the nature of things that education today aims at precisely the opposite of this. Never have such strange ideas prevailed in the teaching of history as today. The intention in all systems is to inhibit any metaphysical influx, to tame and train in the interests of the collective. " (21) [Ernest Becker - DoD, origins of fear in death]
"With this, we touch on the essence of modern suffering, the great emptiness that Nietzsche characterized as the growth of the deserts. The deserts grow: this is the spectacle of civilization with its vacuous relationships. In this landscape the question of provisions becomes especially urgent, especially haunting: 'The desert grows, woe to him in whom deserts hide.' It is a good thing if churches can create oases—but a better thing still if man does not content himself with that. The church can provide assistance but not existence." (22)
"Still more important is the consideration that in many people today a strong need for religious ritual coexists with an aversion to churches. [...] One might say that a certain definite quantity of religious faith always exists, which in previous times was legitimately satisfied by the churches. Now, freed up, it attaches itself to all and everything. This is the gullibility of modern man, which coexists with a lack of faith. He believes what he reads in the newspaper but not what is written in the stars." (24)
"A person scraping by, if not in an actual wasteland, then in a wasted zone such as an industrial city, to whom a mere glimmer, a brief whiff of the immense power of being is imparted—such a person begins to sense that something is missing in his life. This is the prerequisite for him to start searching." (24)
"Typically, this person will be little developed ethically or spiritually, however eloquent he may be in convincing platitudes. [...] Giving this man an inkling of what has been taken from him [...]—this is the theological task. A true theologian is someone who understands the science of abundance, which transcends mere economy, and who knows the mystery of the eternal springs, which are inexhaustible and always at hand." (24)
"This is the great aspect of this novel, indeed of all of Dostoyevsky’s work, which acts like a breakwater on which the errors of the times are pulverized. These are talents that emerge more clearly after every new catastrophe and in which the Russian pen has achieved world status." (24)
"The forest rebel cannot permit himself the kind of indifference that, like small state neutrality and fortress confinement for political crimes, characterized the past period. The forest passage leads to difficult decisions. The task of the forest rebel is to stake out vis-à-vis the Leviathan the measures of freedom that are to obtain in future ages. He will not get by this opponent with mere ideas. [...] There is no reconciling all this with indifference [nor waiting]." (26)
"We are truly alive only insofar as we are able to emerge from mere functionality. [...] What are the real gains from the world of insurance, vaccinations, meticulous hygiene, and a high life expectancy? It is futile to argue the point, since this world will, in any case, continue to develop until the ideas on which it is based are exhausted." (27)
"An entire population that prepares itself for a forest passage becomes a formidable force. [...] it can greatly strengthen its defensive capacity, even deterringly so, and at low cost. This would enable long-sighted policies. For those who know their rights and can wait, the fruits fall into their laps on their own." (29)
"[Forest rebel] has no need of theories or of laws concocted by some party jurist to know what is right. He descends to the very springs of morality, where the waters are not yet divided and directed into institutional channels." (30)
i went to a book club on this that almost pushed it to a 4 but i have to be true to myself a lot of this was woowoo. but maybe we do need mysticism? if you don’t believe there’s something miraculous about man or immortal about his spirit, then it is much harder to resist the tyrannical state and reject law in favor of your own morality. at the same time, religious institutions might be the corruption you’re fighting against, so you can’t rely on the “ship” of organized religion to avoid the forest passage either. so you turn to more general mysticism that focuses on the individual reckoning with the Self and discovering their inner nature. that being said! this book kinda sounded like i have superpowers and can heal my own wounds and live forever (sorry, sorry)
“Dominion, however, can only come from those who have preserved in themselves a knowledge of native human measures and who will not be forced by any superior power to forsake acting humanely.”
“This miracle has happened, even countless times, when a man stepped out of the lifeless numbers to extend a helping hand to others…This is the hallmark of nobility and it still shines today in the guard who secretly slips a piece of bread to a prisoner. This cannot be lost, and on this the world subsists. These are the sacrifices on which it rests.” * i rlly liked this being called a miracle
“When the dispossession encounters property as a pure idea, slavery is the inevitable result. The last visible property is the body and its working capacity.”
“The patria that we carry in our heart is one of these possessions, and it is from here, from the realm of the unexpected, that we restitute its integrity when its boundaries are injuries in the extended world.”
Una revelación y revolución interior. Un excelente texto (maravillosa traducción), con partes aparentemente sencillas y otras íntimamente profundas que requieren alguna relectura. Es pura elegancia, introspección, trascendencia, valentía. Es un viaje al interior del ser humano como animal político que encuentra el camino de la singularidad, escapando de convencionalismos y, en última instancia, de la materia. Sobresaliente.
“The Forest Passage" by Ernst Junger, published in 1951, offers a profound exploration of the individual's struggle for freedom and authenticity in a world dominated by oppressive forces. Junger, a German philosopher and writer, reflects on the concept of the "forest rebel," drawing from his own experiences during turbulent times in Europe. In this academic review, we analyze the key themes, strengths, limitations, and scholarly significance of Junger's influential work, shedding light on its contributions to existentialist thought and its enduring relevance for understanding the complexities of human existence.
Junger's "The Forest Passage" focuses on the concept of the forest rebel as a figure who resists oppressive structures and seeks personal freedom in the midst of political and social upheaval. Drawing from historical examples, Junger explores the transformative potential of individuals who choose to withdraw from the public sphere and seek refuge in the metaphorical "forest." He emphasizes the importance of personal autonomy, self-mastery, and resilience in the face of external constraints.
One of the strengths of Junger's analysis lies in his poetic and evocative language, which creates a vivid atmosphere that captures the existential predicament faced by individuals caught in the webs of power and control. Junger's introspective reflections offer valuable insights into the challenges of maintaining personal integrity and freedom in the face of oppressive regimes or societal pressures.
Furthermore, Junger's exploration of the forest rebel serves as a critique of both totalitarian and conformist societies. He posits that the true rebel, instead of resorting to violence or confrontation, finds freedom in cultivating inner strength, detachment, and an unyielding commitment to personal authenticity. Junger's emphasis on the importance of individual agency and inner transformation resonates with existentialist themes and contributes to the broader discourse on freedom and human flourishing.
However, it is important to acknowledge the limitations of "The Forest Passage." Junger's perspective may be seen as overly individualistic, overlooking the potential for collective action and the importance of social and political engagement. Some readers may desire a more nuanced exploration of the complex relationship between individual freedom and the social context in which it operates.
"The Forest Passage" by Ernst Junger stands as a thought-provoking and contemplative work that grapples with existential questions of freedom, authenticity, and resistance. Junger's poignant prose and philosophical insights make this work a valuable contribution to the existentialist tradition and a significant reflection on the complexities of human existence.
The book's scholarly significance lies in its capacity to stimulate critical reflections on the nature of freedom, individual agency, and the pursuit of authenticity. Junger's exploration of the forest rebel offers a unique perspective on the existential challenges faced by individuals in oppressive or conformist societies, inviting readers to reconsider their relationship with power, society, and personal autonomy.
Ernst Junger's "The Forest Passage" presents a compelling and introspective analysis of the struggle for freedom in a world dominated by oppressive forces. While acknowledging its limitations, this academic review recognizes the scholarly significance and philosophical depth of Junger's work. By highlighting the importance of individual autonomy, inner transformation, and personal authenticity, the book encourages readers to critically engage with existential themes and contemplate the possibilities for resistance and freedom within complex societal frameworks.
this is a strange little book, the work of a flint-eyed cynic forged in the fires of war who is nevertheless a goofy idealist + true believer in "man" as such. as a guide to surviving during times in which one is unable to speak, it offers nothing (and can offer nothing) in the way of practical advice that couldn't be summarized as "good men see the truth, but wait" (the summary more or less says as much). the end of the world - the end of everything (which has happened multiple times in junger's own country, as he notes!) - is taken as a given, but he never adds the important qualifier "when is it not?" all lives (indeed all life since the dawn of time!) are but forest passages unto death, and as junger most certainly knew, this is one dark ride.
Piccolo gioiello della filosofia moderna scritto da una mente brillante (e un po’ controversa) che è quella di Jünger. L’opera studia la figura del Ribelle ovvero l’uomo libero e i compiti che gli spettano. Nell’epoca moderna l’individuo è costretto a perdersi nel gregge della massa vinto dalla propaganda e dal terrore della libertà. Secondo Jünger “passare al bosco” è necessario per riscoprire il diritto di essere liberi. Il bosco è un viaggio verso se stessi, distaccato dalla società, dove l’uomo vi entra annientato, sofferente ed esce rinato e trionfante, pronto a sopravvivere alla fine della civiltà e delle sue rassicurazioni. [Prepararsi alla catastrofe]. Il ribelle si getta nel proprio annientamento e nel proprio dolore per riscoprire la sua integrità e la sua potenza; perché solo con la consapevolezza di sè, della propria sicurezza l’uomo può combattere la paura. È un libro in cui è presente un bellissimo elogio alla libertà ma anche all’arte, alla poesia e alla letteratura descritti come mezzi che possono aiutare l’uomo a passare al bosco. È presente per tutta l’opera un invito alla riflessione, al pensiero e alla meditazione. È un libro che però io reputo un po’ pericoloso se viene letto in chiave populista che può autorizzare l’uomo a fare quello che vuole in nome del diritto, ed è per questo errore che Jünger sottolinea e risottolinea la parola Riflessione. Consigliato, semplice da leggere. Frasi belle: 1) “Ma la storia autentica può essere fatta soltanto da uomini liberi” 2) “tra il grigio delle pecore si celano i lupo, vale a dire quegli esseri che non hanno dimenticato cos’è la libertà”.
I was very interested in this book, however the translation is not perfect -- particularly amusing to me is the non-anglicized translation of "william tell" as "wilhelm tell". The passive voice is regularly overused throughout the text, there are some misplaced apostrophes, and some words missing here and there. Overall, however, it is an extremely prescient and engaging essay which speaks with great insight to many of the effects of modern technology on the psyche and the spirit (what Junger calls automatism)...a heavy debt throughout to Heidegger's Question Concerning Technology. It should be required reading for aspiring technologists, and is of immediate interest to artists as well.
Alt-right fanboys with unread but proudly displayed copies of Storm and Steel will likely be disappointed by this, as it is very far from a nationalist or NRx screed, in fact it is in many ways a guidebook for how to survive extreme nationalism. For that matter, readers looking for affirmation for an idée fixe of Junger will be dissapointed by what is a very dynamic and difficult essay. Exhibits moments of great lyricism, on par with the most rhapsodic sentences of Junger's late novels. Maybe start with the Marble Cliffs if new to Junger.