Jemand sagte mir soeben das Datum meines Todes (German Edition)

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Jetzt ist es auch so. Wir bekamen einen neuen. Wen interessiert denn das? Er war mit seinem Latein irgendwann am Ende und hat es dann irgendwann aufgegeben und sich gesagt, dass er da nicht mehr durchkomme. Es sei ja alles schon zu weit fortgeschritten in der Szene. Es ist spannend, die Nuancen zu sehen. Die Melodie wurde mit Waldzither begleitet. Da war auch eine Mandoline dabei.

Es ist zumindest in Varianten im Steinitz. Wir haben immer ganz penibel darauf geachtet, wo wir das herhatten und es bis zur Seitenzahl ganz genau angegeben, damit sie uns keinen Strick drehen und sagen konnten: Gerade , da gab es ja Liedtexte, die im real existierenden Sozialismus irgendwie anzuwenden waren.

Das wurde dann so verstanden, ja? Es wusste im Prinzip jeder, was damit gemeint ist. Es gab ja mehrere Auswandererlieder. Das wurde gern gespielt und das haben wir dann auch noch in den 90ern gespielt. Das Thema Reisefreiheit war da aktuell. Ja, das wusste ja jeder …: Ah, sie sind nach Themenbereichen und Genres sortiert. Das Spiel mit den Texten und der Subtext haben ja sehr viel Inhalt geboten. Da ging man in erster Linie hin, um zu tanzen. Das ist schon sehr provozierend. Aber die Tendenz gab es in den 80er Jahren schon und nicht nur beim Volkstanz. Nach der Wende haben die kritischen Texte dann niemanden mehr interessiert.

Da war er noch ganz jung und so richtig kannte ihn noch keiner. Es kam jemand, der nicht sonderlich kritische Sachen gesungen hat. Die Liedermacher wachten jetzt wieder langsam auf und durften dann auch wieder auftreten …. Wobei es ja eigentlich auch eher parallel ablief. Man hatte in den 70ern ja ein paar Leute gehabt ….

Es gab ein paar Liedermacher, es waren nicht viele, aber… JW: Ja, die haben uns aber eigentlich nicht interessiert. Ja und bei der Musik hat er es richtig ausgelebt und das war richtig albern. Um herum kam dann eine richtige Welle an Liedermachern auf, Wenzel, zum Beispiel, Gundermann und viele andere.

Aber es sind wirklich interessante Sachen dabei gewesen. Das ist schwer zu sagen. Ich bin ja in der Leitung des Festivals und stelle das auch fest, wenn wir jedes Jahr im Herbst die Programmauswahl treffen. Das ist dann auch normal. Das ist dann so und man muss es akzeptieren. Sie hat dann irgendwo ein Interview gegeben und es wurde gefragt, wo sie die Songs herhatte … und sie hatte keine Ahnung, dass es in den 70er Jahren sowohl im Westen, als auch im Osten eine Folkszene gegeben hat. Es ist vielleicht auch gar nicht sinnvoll, dass es so ist.

Ich habe dann auch festgestellt, dass das eigentlich auch nicht unser Repertoire ist, weil es dann doch noch ein bisschen anders roch. Nun werden wir aber auch schon grau und sterben bald. Vorwiegend ist es Irish Folk oder auch Blues. Das ist ja ein geiler Titel. Das sind die deutschsprachigen Titel, vorwiegend die Sauflieder lacht oder auch die politischen Lieder: Das kannte ich gar nicht. Klar, woher sollen die jungen Leute das wissen?

Da sieht man, dass es Leute nach wie vor gut finden. Es ist eigentlich schade. Das wundert mich eigentlich, denn gerade die Folkszene war mir am sympathischsten von allen in der DDR. Die Folkszene war mir am sympathischsten, weil ein Zusammenhalt da war. Das hat man gemerkt. Die kannten sich alle untereinander und lagen sich in den Armen, wenn man sich wiedergetroffen hat. Die ganze Szene war ein Herz und eine Seele. Das ist nach der Wende alles ein wenig auseinandergegangen.

Es stehen dann riesige Trauben von Leuten und es wird richtig gefeiert. Damals war es ungeheuerlich, dass wir solch ein Zeug gespielt haben. Das war damals wirklich wie ein Ohrenputzer. Ich habe mitunter auch irisches und schottisches Zeug gespielt. Ich merke, dass die Reaktionen mittlerweile ganz abgestumpft sind. Es geht jetzt in Richtung Weltmusik und Fusion. Wir hatten ja diese Kategorien, weil man nicht wusste, wo man die Folkszene eingliedern soll.

Es war auch so, dass in den 80er Jahren das Fernsehen darauf einstieg. Die wurden dann als Volksmusik bezeichnet. Das geht doch nicht! Da wird ein Vergleich mit den Volksmusikleuten aufgestellt. Oh mein Gott, wie sieht denn das aus? Es wurden ja immer Sachen herausgesucht, die unbedenklich waren. Die haben ja gar nicht zusammen gesungen, sondern nur gleichzeitig. Dann spielen auch alle irgendwie mit.

Da brauchte in etwa drei Takte, bis alle dort waren, wo sie sein mussten. Das mache ich heute noch gerne. Jedes Mal lacht sagt der Kollege Beckert: Es ist improvisiert und spontan …. Das ist also noch ein Relikt aus dieser Zeit, was ich verinnerlicht habe, weil es mich damals umgehauen hat. Wieso ist es eigentlich so, dass Rudolstadt immer das einzige Folkfest geblieben ist …?

Deshalb wundert es mich, dass Rudolstadt immer durchgezogen wird Naja, … die Eiferei, die wir in den 70er Jahren in der Folkszene hatten, hat sich dann auch in den Anfangsjahren von Rudolstadt fortgesetzt. In Rudolstadt gab es ja auch Folk-Besessene. Es kommt ja noch hinzu, dass in den 90er Jahren diese Mittelalterszene aufkam. Die Mittelalterszene ist ja nochmal ein ganz anderes Kapitel. Es fahren ja auch ganz viele von denen nach Rudolstadt. Wie war das denn, als du das Folkfest in Hoyerswerda organisiert hast.

Naja, es ist ja so, dass ich das am HdjT in Berlin gesehen hatte, was ein Kumpel von mir … organisiert hat. Dann kam noch etwas von der Stadtverwaltung und ich habe es einfach mehr oder weniger alleine zusammenbekommen. Ich kann mich noch an das erste Mal erinnern. Ich meinte, dass es hier im Schloss ein Folkfest gibt. Da schauten sie mich an und meinten: Dann gehen wir eben mal zum Folk, Hauptsache, es gibt Bier dort.

So war es in der DDR ja auch nicht gedacht. Dadurch bekam jeder, der Kultur gemacht hat, seinen Etat zugewiesen. Das hatte ich auch noch im Hinterkopf. Es war ja so, dass man, wenn man professionell Musik gemacht hat, einen bestimmten Etat zugewiesen bekam. Ja, man hatte seine Spielerlaubnis und wusste, was man verlangen durfte. Meistens haben wir dann auch noch eine andere Gruppe eingeladen, entweder Blues oder Jazz, die dann in der Pause gespielt haben. Dann haben wir die Abrechnung zur Stadtverwaltung gebracht und die sagten: Dass muss ja ein Totentanz gewesen sein!

Die haben das aber locker bezahlt und nie Probleme gehabt. Samsung S3 Mini, internal microphone Interviewer: I stand at the train station in Leipzig and nervously await the arrival of Pfeffi, who has, specifically for this interview, travelled from Hoyerswerda to Leipzig.

Here, he was responsible for organising events and through his work, Pfeffi came into contact with the folk music scene. His train arrives just after He has sent me a description of his appearance and I instantly recognize him. We go to a snack bar for lunch. We take the tram and talk about my studies in Ireland.

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I only know him from photographs in books. He introduces himself in a rather formal manner. He offers coffee and poppyseed cake. On the shelves, I notice two concertinas. Wolff and today, we are talking about folk music in the GDR. First of all, … I thank you both for taking the time to talk to me today. What are your associations and what did it feel like? It was directed and sponsored to a great degree by the state, but never matched the Zeitgeist. The Singeklub was much bigger than the audience it attracted.

Afterwards, I returned to Plauen, where I was born, and thought of what I could do next.

So, we could not just start and buy electric equipment and play rock music or something like that. I was completely flabbergasted. When I started studying in the GDR, disco music became big. Before that, some live-bands simply played music in canteens and suddenly, disco music became fashionable. Then someone simply set up a mixing desk and put on a few discs or LPs. From the very start, this was something that bored me. It was absolutely sickening. Then this music, which was played by the Sands Family and The Dubliners and which was rather complex, provided a good alternative.

With minimal resources and a lower degree of musical prowess, one could sing a song that even sounded good. We tuned violins in fifths and that was sufficient. Then we put in a hell of a lot of practice, on mandolin, whistle and God knows what else. Then we already started applying it to German stuff.

I was in charge of a Singeklub in Plauen. In the space of half a year, in between hearing Sands Family in February and the following summer, we completely rearranged the Singeklub. It was with them that we played proper acoustic music. On the final stretches, the group existed for maybe seven or eight years, including me. The band was good enough. That was a great experience. There were freaks everywhere, who played and tried to set something up.

So, you first came into contact with the Irish soundscape through your memorable experience at the festival of political song? Yes, there was a soundscape that was common among The Dubliners in their original line-up and the Fureys were similar, although they added uilleann pipes as well. I had a sampler, which included other bands. We copied it from there and tried to figure out, what they were doing. Occasionally, they played harmonies in thirds or fifths, but the principal idea was laughs , to copy exactly what was happening in the lead vocal line.

I had never studied music and never took lessons.

I have always been and still am self-taught. I have always just listened to it in a way that satisfied my own needs and sounded harmonious. The mesmerizing thing was that everyone sang the same thing. However, it was incredibly dynamic. We made another sampler of recordings in the early years. We recorded that in the first two months and I thought, it was alright. From then on, it progressed quite quickly and we started focusing on the content of the Irish material. Easter Rising in in Dublin, exactly. Yes, The Dubliners sang that as well.

There was a whole range of things. The folk music workshop. We invited everyone we knew, sat around a table and said: We relatively swiftly started playing German material. However, the style remained in this Irish… FM: There are several examples of that on this recording. When I first held it in my hands, it was a revelation. We studied art at the university here. The tutorial groups were small. Moreover, we played in a band. Our lecturer was watching me anyway, because my drawing was never really meticulous: That is totally unacceptable!

Then they wanted to fail me after the second year and the whole thing was completely on edge. It was already this crazy back then. Soon it was obvious that the themes discussed in Irish songs appeared in the German songs in a slightly different fashion as well.

That was sufficient for the choirs, but not for us. How did you experience the scene, Pfeffi? Of course, you viewed the scene from a different perspective, as an event organiser. I frequented those events and I developed an interest in them. I liked this new thing and could relate to it better. I liked the musical side and they actually sometimes played folk music and songs.

I can recall that Gundermann once played a song by Steeleye Span to which he added German lyrics. Of course, that happened in other song clubs as well, not just in Hoyerswerda. I mean, after all, Jack Mitchell and a few others also came out of this scene. In Leipzig, we also had Singeklub Plus, they did similar things. That was somehow more exciting than the political songs that were performed in the GDR. Perhaps, you know an event organiser? I have heard that you are a talented artist and writer. I met a lot of new people at those workshops.

He wrote that they started by playing Irish stuff, but now, they luckily sang in German, which made the material more widely accessible. I remember that precisely, because I finished my studies at that time. He helped organising the event at Haus der jungen Talente. An Irish band was there as well …. Was that not a band from West Berlin?

That was the first time I recognized that that was actually a brilliant thing. I invited the first folk bands and helped directing them to other youth clubs. Those were ordinary citizens. Then you also played on the market in Leipzig as part of the book fair. I remember seeing you there and standing there for a long time to listen to the concert. Those were formative life experiences. I liked the texts most, but the music appealed to me as well. That was something completely different. We knew GDR rock music and the texts that were sung. But that was something completely different. As I explained earlier in the tram, the material included content that was originally rooted in other centuries and that could be related to the GDR reality.

If one complained about rulers, for example, who oppressed the folk and left nobody out of the country, … that did not appear as drastically in the texts … , one could interpret that accordingly. The local cultural officer was very well educated and proposed that those who were talented in the areas of culture and art could tell him and they would be granted special leave laughs. Of course, there were officers and soldiers sitting in the audience.

How did the audience receive that? The audience was completely enthusiastic and even the officers approached me and told me how interesting it was: Of course, it was the sub-text that played a prominent role in the folk music scene more generally. I can imagine that it was exciting for the artists themselves. We advanced a somewhat keen theory.

A lot of people that were interested in this kind of thing were silenced. The hope for a flourishing GDR state … and growing opportunities that installed itself in the aftermath of the famous 10th Weltfestspiele suddenly vanished. Nothing really developed anymore. The state- critical Liedermacher almost was speechless. This went on for a couple of years. I developed a veritable meticulousness regarding the sources ….

We thought a lot about the sources. Whether it was always correct remains questionable, as we always adjusted the song texts. It somehow had to be formulated in a catchy manner. Of course, the main idea remained intact, but it always ended up being rewritten. We later applied that to our work as Duo Sonnenschirm. At some stage, we merely retained the idea and rewrote the whole text. Yes, that rings a bell. We played that and reworked it laughs.

There even is a story behind that. They told us, we could travel to the West, to Cyprus. Then we figured that we had to come up with something special for our Cyprus-trip. We rehearsed a Greek song, the folkloristic part, and we also had to do something else. My colleague was a professional puppeteer. I sang and he used his puppets to tell the story.

We thought, that was somewhat boring and therefore, we decided to tell the story in German. So, we travelled to Cyprus, where they speak English, and sang an English-language song in German laughs. We used these weird puppets to tell the story. I can even remember seeing the puppets. Later we had bigger puppets. Yes, they were different. They still exist, but at the start they were small hand puppets. It was a normal way of dealing with traditional material. We published seven or eight booklets. In the 80s, I even made plans to study musicology and to get a degree, because I was so fascinated.

Pfeffi, I noticed that you wanted to say something at an earlier point. See, Pfeffi, it happens too quickly. In certain ways, you were a bridge. Was it the case that you approached people like Pfeffi and asked for more performance opportunities? No, I mean, the scene was much more interconnected than today. Right, the country was much smaller and much more neatly arranged. That is one aspect. They all knew each other … and stayed in contact after studying there. I can vividly recall that I spoke to a lot of people and suggested seeing numerous folk music bands, because they were brilliant.

Thanks to Pfeffi and Brigade Feuerstein, the scene in Hoyerswerda became extraordinarily active and that is still projected today …. There were a few strongholds, as Wolfgang Leyn has mentioned in his book. Specifically, those were Erfurt, Plauen, and Hoyerswerda. Interestingly, those are towns that did not normally provide the necessary infrastructure to nourish the scene and nothing else happened there. I have to come in here. Those people primarily had fun, because of the drinking songs.

They responded to that and people were ecstatic. That was simply not possible. Actually, it was closer to cabaret. You could only organise that on smaller stages and not in bigger halls. I just thought of something. Did you help out, Pfeffi, when it was restaged? I watched it from behind, through a curtain, which had a slash. Then, someone came and said: We watched the entire dress rehearsal, those in charge never noticed ….

The book describes the whole thing as well. One year later, I asked Beckert, if we could stage the opera in Hoyerswerda. I asked Beckert for the script. Nobody noticed that the piece was in fact forbidden. Well, there were many grey areas of censorship. Completely censoring something was tough.

I still remember when we performed the folk opera, as part of a workshop in January At first, I thought, if they cut our support act, they would cancel the entire gig, but that never happened. We all drove to Berlin. Usually, the FDJ central council would host a reception. Nevertheless … , we also played a piece from the folk opera at the concert and never announced it as such. Even the radio recorded the performance.

I am not sure, whether it was actually broadcast, but the recording exists. Again, we adapted the text. It was like that.

Nach Amerika! Ein Volksbuch. Erster Band by Friedrich Gerstäcker

Renft was not to be played by official media. There were always recommendations. There was no pushing and nobody talked about it. You have to conceptualise the GDR and its policy as akin to an elastic band. Then they went to the FDJ central council and it was all forgotten. They went to the ministry of culture, because they knew someone there … , who put in a good word for them.

It is highly interesting, that a lady employed by the district council, who banned it, also confiscated their artist permits. Wolfgang mentioned in his book that you worked for the central committee for musical folklore. What was that exactly? Committees like that existed in several areas of folklore. In Leipzig, there was a… PS: You could not simply do something in the GDR, it had to be regulated and controlled. There was amateur theatre, dance, cabaret, and God knows what else. A folk scene was unprecedented in the GDR.

The GDR only witnessed folk dance, as was performed at the festival in Rudolstadt. They claimed that it was in fact part of the youth song movement, but we responded that we emerged out of that and wanted to get away from it. Then we took the initiative and founded our own folklore committee, abbreviated FINK Folklore- Initiativkomittee to defend our rights as artists in front of the ministry of culture.

Performing proved problematic in the GDR, because one needed to be classified as an artist at first and then be granted a permit. The permit was available on both professional and amateur levels. One or two people were responsible for forwarding the information to the ministry. The ministry of culture banned the folklore committee. They argued, that such a committee could not exist, as it equipped us with bottom-up agency. They hat to regulate everything from the top. They then offered us to install a centralised committee from above, which included members of all the important bands.

That took time and that was interesting as well. Then, they summoned the committee. I was co-chair, Dr. Bernd Eichler from Berlin became chair, and a few others were summoned as well. Actually, the group already consisted of the right people, but from the very beginning, we noticed that something went wrong laughs. They had all the documents detailing the decisions already printed and ready to be signed.

That was typical for GDR circumstances. Of course, we refused and set conditions ourselves. The experiences we gained as part of this group were incentives for organising the folk opera. The primary idea is that the grim reaper is defeated and lies in a ditch. The merry folk band rescues him from his misery. He expresses his gratitude by offering the musicians to send his messengers. Contrary to the original tale, the messengers are portrayed as those, who destroy everything, the police, the cultural administration… PS: I can remember Wenzel running across the stage with a huge ear made of cardboard ….

Then everything happened quite quickly. We already had a reasonably good reputation and successfully manoeuvred past the authorities. They told us, it was over and a folk workshop was never to be held again in Leipzig. It was too anarchic. Then they transferred those workshops to the rural provinces, to Ilmenau, Neubrandenburg, and God knows where else.

And then, nobody came anymore. I can recall that the last workshop was somehow exhausted. There was a rift between folk musicians and the authorities that nobody could fix. There were all sorts of things. They closed the Malzhaus club in Plauen. That was a prime venue for many members of the folk music scene, because it was aptly suited for folk music gigs. Roughly people fitted into the cellar venue and then, one could hardly breathe. To play a concert there was a revelation.

However, they maintained the club and resisted the authorities. Eventually, they decided to close the venue. We decided to spend all the money in the last four weeks and invited all sorts of people to host theatre performances and folk music concerts …. Then it was over. During the event, somebody went over to the red telephone and called the Stasi ministry to inquire, whether everything evolved to plan: I thought, the Stasi had already closed the venue. They never did anything.

Originally, the club only consisted of the cellar. Now they use the entire house. What was it like at the folk fest in Hoyerswerda, which you helped organising? Yes, but I wanted to re-iterate something, because it is highly interesting. Interestingly, we experienced the exact opposite.

As a neurologist he was convinced of the entrenchment of the psyche in the body and also that this connection would be revealed as research progressed. This simultaneously nurturing and sealing relation can then be introjected and builds the body-mind core of all relation phantasies. To conclude I would like once more to return to her life journey. There, in a change took place, when Bowlby decided not to renew her position as director of child therapy training. This was probably connected with her personality and her strong Kleinian orientation.

Martha Harris, her successor, wrote in her obituary in , from which I have already quoted: Nusia Bick [as she was called by her friends] was never at any period of her life a compromiser and the course came under fire for its narrow Kleinian orientation. When in she was told by Dr Bowlby that he would no longer be asking her to undertake responsibility for another intake of students, she decided to leave the clinic and to concentrate upon her analytic work and on her teaching at the Institute of Psychoanalysis.

Nevertheless she continued to give extra-mural and private seminars to child psychotherapists for the next twenty years. During that time she also did a great deal of teaching abroad in Spain, in Italy, also in South America, Israel and Switzerland. Analysts and candidates came to her for supervision from these countries and also from France, the Commonwealth and the United States. She had high hopes of both, and to both she applied equally high standards which were impossible to realize, and so inevitably she was disappointed by the imperfections in them.

Those exacting standards she applied also to herself and her writing, which was seldom allowed to reach the printed page. Her papers on child analysis and on infant observation were seminal and remain so. But it is as a teacher rather than as a writer that she will be remembered by many of us who worked with her. Her appreciation of material presented to her, her capacity to seize upon salient points and use then to bring alive the personality of the child or person described, had a poetic quality displayed only by those who love life intensely.

She had a vision of how lives might be improved by psychoanalysis, a burning desire to communicate this in her teaching, and little tolerance of attitudes which stood in the way of this. Her uncompromising and sometimes narrow vision gained her enemies and critics, but its integrity and illuminating force won from many others, especially from young people who were eager to learn, a devotion and admiration which few people are able to inspire.

Lest this brief note about her life and complicated personality make her sound too austere, it should be said that she had a great sense of fun and gaiety, and a store of Jewish jokes. Gordon hat kein tertium comparationis. Darin besteht sein Dilemma.

Angeblich gab es im Deutschland der er und er Jahre keine andere Alternative zu Heideggers Philosophie als eben diesen idealistischen Typus Cassirer. Aber dies ist weder historisch-faktisch noch philosophisch-systematisch gesehen wahr. Es geht mir um dritte philosophische Positionen, die in der Disputation zwischen Cassirer und Heidegger selbst im Zentrum standen. Darin besteht das Interessante an dieser Disputation: Beide, sowohl Cassirer als auch Heidegger, wollen nicht als Philosophische Anthropologen gelten.

Sie verschweigen beide ihre impliziten Anthropologien in Davos, das Dasein der Endlichkeit und die Unendlichkeit der symbolischen Formen, indem sie sie als Philosophien ausgeben. Es ging um seine Nachfolge und sein Erbe. Alle beeilten sich, sie anzutreten. Heidegger widmete Scheler sein Kant-Buch Cassirers Stichworte gaben Schelers Thema richtig wieder: Wie kommt es zur Vergeistigung des Lebens und zur Verlebendigung des Geistes?

Darin bestand nicht nur die zentrale Frage der Philosophischen Anthropologie, sondern auch der Lebensphilosophie Diltheys, deren Systematisierer Georg Misch war. Band der symbolischen Formen, finden sich die Spuren der Auseinandersetzung mit Plessner. Zu den historischen Fakten: Auflage als Monographie erschien. Hatte es beiden die Sprache verschlagen? Heidegger beginnt im Dasein, dem es in seinem Sein um das Sein selbst gehen soll, und Cassirer beginnt in den symbolischen Formen, die das menschliche Selbstbewusstsein historisch und systematisch als Kulturformen spezifizieren sollen.

Sie fragen nach dem Zusammenhang von Sein und Bewusstsein im Leben, das sowohl naturphilosophisch als auch geschichtsphilosophisch thematisiert wird. Seine Philosophie setzte historisch und systematisch mit den symbolischen Formen ein, die zweifellos eine Pluralisierung des transzendentalen Selbstbewusstseins bedeuteten. Es fehlte ihnen aber ein Unterbau in der Geschichte der Natur und Gesellschaft. Cassirers Historisierung der Funktion des Apriori, d. In der Natur gibt es Lebensformen, deren Reproduktion an kein Bewusstsein gebunden ist.

In Cassirers ehrlicher Selbstbescheidung auf eine Kulturphilosophie wirkte Plessners Naturphilosophie nach. Plessners horizontaler Vergleich enthielt eine Einladung an Cassirers Kulturphilosophie. Zudem anerkannte Cassirer das Problem einer Naturphilosophie, in der auch, aber auf andere Weise symbolisch vermittelt verfahren wurde, oder wie Kant gesagt hatte: Cassirer verstand durch Scheler die Aufgabe, die in dem Begriff des Lebens gestellt wird.

Liest man Heideggers Vorlesungen aus dem Wintersemester , so wird ihm klar, dass seine publizierten Kritiken an der Philosophischen Anthropologie nicht stimmen. Andere Primaten konnten auf praktische Weise auch intelligent sein, sowohl individuell als auch in Gruppen. Sie konnten ihre Umwelt im Vordergrund nicht von einer Welt im Hintergrund her exzentrieren. Aber diese Schimpansen konnten nicht symbolisch neben diese zentrischen Korrelationen treten, um letztere selbst zum Gegenstand werden zu lassen.

Es gab dann einen exzentrischen Weltrahmen, von dem her die Umwelten der Individuen und Gruppen transformiert werden konnten. Sie resultierte aus einer Sedimentation und Habitualisierung von Welt in Umwelt. Dort kritisierte Plessner die dualistische Reduktion des Sozialen auf Gemeinschaft im Gegensatz zur Gesellschaft in rechten und linken Gemeinschaftsideologien. Sie hatten beide keine Philosophie der Natur und keine Philosophie der Gesellschaft. Translation - English Life-philosophical anthropology as the missing third. Gordon has no tertium comparationis. This is his dilemma.

To the extent that I am acquainted with the Heideggerian debates in the USA and France, they both appear to suffer from the same deficit. But this is not the case, either in a historical-factual or in a philosophical-systematic sense. There were third directions in German philosophy which could serve as the tertium comparationis. I am not speaking of the extended circle of the Frankfurter School Critical Theory, which Gordon only touches upon at the periphery.

Of course Heidegger was not a racist, but rather a social anti-semite. See his correspondence with Elfriede. I am referring to third philosophical positions which took central stage in the actual dispute between Cassirer and Heidegger. The whole argument between them, before Davos, in Davos, and after Davos raged around the status of philosophical anthropology, positioned as it was between philosophy and anthropology.

Cassirer, as Gordon correctly notes, reproached Heidegger as in fact did Husserl in a similar vein with being merely an anthropologist of the Zeitgeist instead of a philosopher. Heidegger did everything to prevent his fundamental ontology appearing as philosophical anthropology. And that is what is interesting about this dispute: Neither of the protagonists, Cassirer nor Heidegger, wanted to be seen as a philosophical anthropologist. They are both speaking of a missing third party, from whom they distance themselves. They both conceal their implicit anthropologies in Davos, the Dasein of finitude and the infinitude of symbolic forms, by presenting them as philosophies.

If one thinks oneself back to that time more clearly and asks who the missing third party in Davos and in the pre- and post-war history of this dispute could be, the authors Georg Misch and Helmuth Plessner readily spring to mind — Max Scheler having died in Scheler, alongside Nikolai Hartmann and Cassirer, was undoubtedly one of the most impressive leading figures in the clash of the German philosophies.

Now it was a question of his succession and inheritance. Everyone rushed to make their claim. Heidegger dedicated his Kant book to Scheler. How do the spiritualization of life and the enlivening of the spirit come about? In their publications Cassirer and Heidegger remain silent on this third, i.

On the historic facts: It was published as a monograph in the first edition in and the second in It is very peculiar that Cassirer and Heidegger refrained from giving any public response. Were they both rendered speechless? Cassirer was seen as too idealistic and Heidegger as too pragmatic to justify the human situation in nature and historically. For Misch and Plessner, Cassirer and Heidegger perpetuated the old dualism of being and consciousness. Heidegger begins in the Dasein, whose being is to be concerned with Being itself, and Cassirer begins in the symbolic forms, which are supposed to historically and systematically specify the human self-consciousness as cultural forms.

Misch and Plessner contrapose these modifications with life forms in which finite and infinite dimensions are interlocked. They inquire into the relation between being and consciousness in life, examining the matter in the context of both natural philosophy and the philosophy of history. His philosophy began historically and systematically with the symbolic forms, which undoubtedly implicated a pluralisation of the transcendental consciousness. Thus the one super-historical and transcendental consciousness Kant was now replaced by a diversity of symbolic forms — from myth, language and art, through religion to science, history and technology.

The historical and systematic ordering of these symbolic forms was then open to discussion. But they were missing a substructure in the history of nature and society. They enabled a collective mind, but they themselves were enabled phenomena a posteriori and not only enabling a priori. In nature there are forms of life whose reproduction is not bound to any consciousness.

Plessner speaks of precentric and decentral forms of organization to describe the structure which makes these possible. In nature there are forms of life whose reproduction is essentially dependent on consciousness. Plessner calls the structure deriving from the organism which makes these possible a centric form and that deriving from the environment also a centric form, both of which must respond and adapt to each another. It is only the excentric form of positioning which requires for its reproduction symbols as symbols.

It criticizes as anthropology the dualism found in modern philosophy since Descartes, as this dualism cannot live up to the task posed in the modern conduct of life. In this sense we are concerned with the anthropological question of how in the midst of modern dualism integration within personal life is in fact possible. Anthropology first becomes philosophical anthropology, thus philosophy, when it criticizes the over-hasty generalization of some intermediary findings of anthropology to mean the end of nature and the end of history.

Thus, in task 2, philosophy criticises anthropology insofar as the latter had arrived at a conclusive definition of the essence of mankind, which claimed once and for all to have determined and assessed this species. This offering was too little for Cassirer, but he conceived a succession of symbolic forms which extended from myth through language and the performing arts to the religion of the personality. Scheler, Plessner and Cassirer were in agreement against Heidegger and Ludwig Klage that the standard for modern life-forms must not fall below the level of the personality which had been developed in the monotheistic religions.

Cassirer, through Scheler, understood the task set by the concept of life. Scheler had expounded the spiritual affirmation of life in the ecstatic form of love, passion and the social senses of compassion and shame. Plessner remarks that Heidegger in Being and Time only recognizes life privatively i. The life process, for Plessner, interlocked finite dimensions in the material of the elements with infinite elements in the structures of its Possibility. Neither for Scheler nor for Plessner is philosophical anthropology a regional ontology and least of all is it a philosophy of the subject which is closest to itself.

Other primates can also be intelligent in a practical way, both individually and in groups. What their memory and self-consciousness were still missing were symbolic contrasts referring to a world going beyond their world like a frame. Their behaviour in this sense remains centric, as they produced physical and psychical correlations to the things in their environments according to experience and memory.

But these chimpanzees could not symbolically position themselves next to these centric correlations in order to transform the latter into an object. For this, the external symbolization of culture in the institutionalization of society was required. This socio-cultural Mitwelt allowed the differentiation between inner and outer world to be newly assessed. There was then an excentric world frame through which the environments of the individuals and groups could be transformed. The excentred world frame could be neutralised in relation to the individual physis and psyche, i.

From this deep boredom, philosophy, art and science became possible as new world revelations distanced from the environments of the human Dasein in every day life. For Plessner, the everyday life of the Dasein was not a world, but rather an artificially produced environment. It resulted from a sedimentation and habitualisation of the world into the environment. Logically viewed, everyday life presupposed an extra-ordinary life in an excentric disclosure of the world. Insofar as the latter had led to the setting up of an artificial environment through technology, society and culture, all symbolic communications could be directly lived in this superficial environment, i.

The inner world could only be differentiated from the outer world, without being circular, if this difference were determined from the standpoint of an interpersonal Mitwelt. Heidegger had still not understood that he lacked a fundamental philosophy of nature and society. However, after the Metaphysics of winter he did allow for excentric world-disclosures in philosophy, art and science.

In relation to philosophical anthropology, Cassirer and Heidegger shared two deficits. Neither of them had a philosophy of nature or a philosophy of society. They shared furthermore a third important deficit and this is where Georg Misch and his influence on Plessner comes in. If the theory of knowledge was no longer to be grounded outside of life, but rather, from anew, from within it, then this had a negative consequence to begin with: Misch advocated the theory of the unfathomability of life and of humans concerning the conduct of their lives as a whole.

Human beings cannot take on the role of god in epistemology, a role independent of any individual life. Thus, the ideal of a godlike knowledge of and beyond all life collapsed, unattainable for human beings. And thus history will continue into the future. The principal of unfathomability replaces a material a priori Scheler or a formal a priori Heidegger in which there is still too much centrism. It has now risen more formidable than ever, and with the further aggravation, that it was unexpected.

Irish disaffection, assuredly, is a familiar fact; and there have always been those among us who liked to explain it by a special taint or infirmity in the Irish character. But Liberal Englishmen had always attributed it to the multitude of unredressed wrongs. England had for ages, from motives of different degrees of unworthiness, made her yoke heavy upon Ireland. According to a well known computation, the whole land of the island had been confiscated three times over.

Part had been taken to enrich powerful Englishmen and their Irish adherents; part to form the endowment of a hostile hierarchy; the rest had been given away to English and Scotch colonists, who held, and were intended to hold it as a garrison against the Irish. The manufactures of Ireland, except the linen manufacture, which was chiefly carried on by these colonists, were deliberately crushed for the avowed purpose of making more room for those of England.

The vast majority of the native Irish, all who professed the Roman Catholic religion, were, in violation of the faith pledged to the Catholic army at Limerick, despoiled of all their political and most of their civil rights, and were left in existence only to plough or dig the ground, and pay rent to their task-masters. A nation which treats its subjects in this fashion cannot well expect to be loved by them.

It is not necessary to discuss the circumstances of extenuation which an advocate might more or less justly urge to excuse these iniquities to the English conscience. Whatever might be their value in our own eyes, in those of the Irish they had not, and could not have, any extenuating virtue. Short of actual depopulation and desolation, or the direct personal enslaving of the inhabitants, little was omitted which could give a people cause to execrate its conquerors.

But these just causes of disloyalty, it was at last thought, had been removed. The jealousy of Irish industry and enterprise has long ceased, and all inequality of commercial advantages between the two countries has been done away with. The civil rights of the Catholic population have been restored to them, and with one or two trifling exceptions their political disabilities have been taken off. The prizes of professional and of political life, in Ireland, England, and every British dependency, have been thrown open, in law and in fact, to Catholic as well as Protestant Irish.

The alien Church indeed remains, but is no longer supported by a levy from the Catholic tillers of the soil; it has become a charge on the rent paid by them, mostly to Protestant landlords. The confiscations have not been reversed; but the hand of time has passed over them: The representatives of the Irish Catholics are a power in the House of Commons, sufficient at times to hold the balance of parties. Irish complaints, great and small, are listened to with patience, if not always with respect; and when they admit of a remedy which seems reasonable to English minds, there is no longer any reluctance to apply it.

What, then, it is thought even by Liberal Englishmen, has Ireland to resent? What, indeed, remains from which resentment could arise? By dint of believing that disaffection had ceased to be reasonable, they came to think that it had ceased to be possible. All grievances, of a kind to exasperate the ruled against the rulers, had, they thought, disappeared. Nature, too, not in her kinder, but in one of her cruellest moods, had made it her study to relieve the conscience of the English rulers of Ireland. But the Angel of Death had stepped in, and removed that spectre from before our gate.

An appalling famine, followed by an unexampled and continuous emigration, had, by thinning the labour market, alleviated that extreme indigence which, by making the people desperate, might embitter them, we thought, even against a mild and just Government. Ireland was now not only well governed, but prosperous and improving. Surely the troubles of the British nation about Ireland were now at an end. The disaffection which they flattered themselves had been cured, suddenly shows itself more intense, more violent, more unscrupulous, and more universal than ever.

The population is divided between those who wish success to Fenianism, and those who, though disapproving its means and perhaps its ends, sympathize in its embittered feelings. Repressed by force in Ireland itself, the rebellion visits us in our own homes, scattering death among those who have given no provocation but that of being English-born. So deadly is the hatred, that it will run all risks merely to do us harm, with little or no prospect of any consequent good to itself. Our rulers are helpless to deal with this new outburst of enmity, because they are unable to see that anything on their part has given cause for it.

They are brought face to face with a spirit which will as little tolerate what we think our good government as our bad, and they have not been trained to manage problems of that difficulty. But though their statesmanship is at fault, their conscience is at ease, because the rebellion, they think, is not one of grievance or suffering; it is a rebellion for an idea—the idea of nationality.

Alas for the self-complacent ignorance of irresponsible rulers, be they monarchs, classes, or nations! If there is anything sadder than the calamity itself, it is the unmistakeable sincerity and good faith with which numbers of Englishmen confess themselves incapable of comprehending it. They know not that the disaffection which neither has nor needs any other motive than aversion to the rulers, is the climax to a long growth of disaffection arising from causes that might have been removed. What seems to them the causelessness of the Irish repugnance to our rule, is the proof that they have almost let pass the last opportunity they are ever likely to have of setting it right.

They have allowed what once was indignation against particular wrongs, to harden into a passionate determination to be no longer ruled on any terms by those to whom they ascribe all their evils. Rebellions are never really unconquerable until they have become rebellions for an idea. Revolt against practical ill-usage may be quelled by concessions; but wait till all practical grievances have merged in the demand for independence, and there is no knowing that any concession, short of independence, will appease the quarrel.

But what, it will be asked, is the provocation that England is giving to Ireland, now that she has left off crushing her commerce and persecuting her religion? What harm to Ireland does England intend, or knowingly inflict? What good, that she knows how to give her, would she not willingly bestow? Unhappily, her offence is precisely that she does not know; and is so well contented with not knowing, that Irishmen who are not hostile to her are coming to believe that she will not and cannot learn.

The English people ought to ask themselves, seriously and without prejudice, what it is that gives sober men this opinion of them; and endeavour to remove it, or humbly confess that it is true, and fulfil the only duty which remains performable by them on that supposition, that of withdrawing from the attempt. More than a generation has elapsed since we renounced the desire to govern Ireland for the English: But we neither knew, nor knew that we did not know.

We had got a set of institutions of our own, which we thought suited us—whose imperfections we were, at any rate, used to: Ireland, it seemed, could have nothing more to desire. What was not too bad for us, must be good enough for Ireland, or if not.

Niet lang meer

Ireland or the nature of things was alone in fault. It is always a most difficult task which a people assumes when it attempts to govern, either in the way of incorporation or as a dependency, another people very unlike itself. But whoever reflects on the constitution of society in these two countries, with any sufficient knowledge of the states of society which exist elsewhere, will be driven, however unwillingly, to the conclusion, that there is probably no other nation of the civilized world, which, if the task of governing Ireland had happened to devolve on it, would not have shown itself more capable of that work than England has hitherto done.

The reasons are these: First, there is no other civilized nation which is so conceited of its own institutions, and of all its modes of public action, as England is; and secondly, there is no other civilized nation which is so far apart from Ireland in the character of its history, or so unlike it in the whole constitution of its social economy; and none, therefore, which if it applies to Ireland the modes of thinking and maxims of government which have grown up within itself, is so certain to go wrong.

The first indeed of our disqualifications, our conceit of ourselves, is certainly diminishing. Our governing classes are now quite accustomed to be told that the institutions which they thought must suit all mankind since they suited us, require far greater alteration than they dream of to be fit even for ourselves. When they were told this, they have long been in the habit of answering, that whatever defects these institutions may have in theory, they are suited to the opinions, the feelings, and the historical antecedents of the English people.

Nicht mehr lange

But mark how little they really mean by this vindication. If suitability to the opinions, feelings, and historical antecedents of those who live under them is the best recommendation of institutions, it ought to have been remembered, that the opinions, feelings, and historical antecedents of the Irish people are totally different from, and in many respects contrary to those of the English; and that things which in England find their chief justification in their being liked, cannot admit of the same justification in a country where they are detested.

But the reason which recommends institutions to their own supporters, and that which is used to stop the mouths of opponents, are far from being always one and the same. Let us take as an example, that one of our institutions which has the most direct connexion with the worst practical grievances of Ireland; absolute property in land, the land being engrossed by a comparatively small number of families.

I am not going to discuss this institution, or to express, on the present occasion, any opinion about its abstract merits. Let these, if we will, be transcendant—let it be the best and highest form of agricultural and social economy, for anything I mean to say to the contrary.

But I do say that this is not self-evident. It is not one of the truths which shine so brilliantly by their own light, that they are assented to by every sane man the moment he understands the words in which they are conveyed. On the contrary, what present themselves the most obviously at the first aspect of this institution are the objections to it. That a man should have absolute control over what his own labour and skill have created, and even over what he has received by gift or bequest from those who created it, is recommended by reasons of a very obvious character, and does not shock any natural feeling.

Moveable property can be produced in indefinite quantity, and he who disposes as he likes of anything which, it can fairly be argued, would not have existed but for him, does no wrong to any one. Such appropriation, when there is not enough left for all, is at the first aspect, an usurpation on the rights of other people. And though it is manifestly just that he who sows should be allowed to reap, this justice, which is the true moral foundation of property in land, avails little in favour of proprietors who reap but do not sow, and who assume the right of ejecting those who do.

When the general condition of the land of a country is such as this, its title to the submission and attachment of those whom it seems to disinherit, is by no means obvious. It is a state of things which has great need of extrinsic recommendations. It requires to be rooted in the traditions and oldest recollections of the people; the landed families must be identified with the religion of the country, with its nationality, with its ancient rulers, leaders, defenders, teachers, and other objects of gratitude and veneration, or at least of ungrudging obedience.

These conditions have been found, in some considerable measure, or at all events, nothing contrary to them has been found, for many centuries, in England. All that is most opposite to them has at all times existed in Ireland. The traditions and recollections of native Irish society are wholly the contrary way.

Before the Conquest, the Irish people knew nothing of absolute property in land. The land virtually belonged to the entire sept; the chief was little more than the managing member of the association. The feudal idea, which views all rights as emanating from a head landlord, came in with the conquest, was associated with foreign dominion, and has never to this day been recognised by the moral sentiments of the people. Originally the offspring not of industry but of spoliation, the right has not been allowed to purify itself by protracted possession, but has passed from the original spoliators to others by a series of fresh spoliations, so as to be always connected with the latest and most odious oppressions of foreign invaders.

In the moral feelings of the Irish people, the right to hold the land goes, as it did in the beginning, with the right to till it. There are parts of Europe, such as East Prussia, where the land is chiefly owned in large estates, but where almost every landowner farms his own land. In Ireland, until a recent period, any one who knew the country might almost have counted those who did anything for their estate but consume its produce.

The landlords were a mere burthen on the land. Onder hun voeten bevinden zich tal van steden. Huizen en straten die in oorlogstijd door zo veel puin en gruis bedekt raakten dat het zinloos was ze op te ruimen. Het zou jaren duren om alle resten van het verleden weg te schrapen en woningen op ongeschonden grond te bouwen, jaren van geduld dat de bevolking al lang had verschoten. Dus trokken de burgers bij iedere overwinning vlijtig nieuwe straten over de vorige, met de schedels van de vijand als kasseien.

Bij nederlaag en overheersing deden ze hetzelfde, zij het met de schedels van hun naasten, hun vlijt ingeruild voor deemoed. Op de beenwitte kasseien drupte het bloed van hun gemartelde leiders die in kooien aan de kerktorens hingen, als schrikbeeld voor wie het in zijn hoofd zou halen opnieuw de macht te grijpen. En zo kreeg de stad door toedoen van iedere vijand er een nieuwe laag bij, alsof een sissende vulkaan zich steeds opnieuw tegoed deed aan de wilskracht en jeugdigheid van de stad. De burgers boden telkens weer koppig het hoofd aan deze vuurgod, die niet hun god was en die beslist zou uitdoven als ze genoeg kerken optrokken.

Op een dag was het zover. Tijdens een allesonterende oorlog had de vulkaan zozeer gebloed dat hij zich terugtrok in een diepe slaap. De mensen die nog leefden, kropen uit de schuilkelders en stroopten de mouwen op voor een grondige wederopbouw. Ze waren meesters in de rouw. De as van de doden vermengden ze met wijwater en zo asfalteerden ze de wegen. Van kerk tot kerk. Elk gebedsgebouw als boetedoening voor het verleden.

En toen was er vrede. In de kerken slaan gelovigen nederig een kruisteken, knikken kwade gedachten weg, knielen en branden kaarsen voor zij die hen ontvielen. Jaar in, jaar uit. Waar gaan alle kwade gedachten naartoe? Niet naar de tuinen waar groene vingers pompoenen kweken en rozen snoeien. Niet naar de parken waar de stedelingen wandelen, joggen, met honden en kinderen spelen, koetsen of rollators voortduwen. Niet naar de collegezalen waar de studenten door de open ramen hun toekomst rooskleurig tegemoet dromen.

Sinds die laatste oorlog kleden de burgers zich iedere ochtend met vrome gedachten, levensvreugde en vrede. En toch sluimert er iets. Onder de stad slaapt de vulkaan zijn roes uit. Af en toe zucht hij in zijn slaap, een beving die de dromen van steeds meer zielen beroert. Zijn hete adem verschroeit hun nekhaartjes. Met gesloten ogen trekken ze hun harnassen aan, klaar voor de strijd. Nog voor het ochtendgloren zoeken ze verdwaasd hun bed weer op en sabbelen ze aan de schouders van hun lieven, verdwaalde kindermonden op zoek naar de moederborst. Als de klokken van de vele kerken hier niet luiden, dan regent het.

Alle kwade gedachten glijden met het regenwater de riolen in, vallen druppelsgewijs op de restanten van de vorige stad, sijpelen oudere riolen in. Door de toenemende hitte rollen ze als knikkers van spookstad tot spookstad, tot ze uitkomen in de buik van de stad, waar ze kletteren op eeuwenoude schedels, als hagelbollen deuken en gaten slaan en in het strottenhoofd van oude strijders tot stilstand komen. Die vind je hier niet op straat. Wie hier geboren is, houdt zich in. Wie hier geboren is, kent het klappen van de zweep.

De fanfares trekken op zaterdagen door de stad of over de promenade die een fietsring rond de stadskern vormt. Hun trommels zijn bespannen met huiden, zo wit en grijs gevlekt dat de trommelbouwers geen dieren lijken te hebben gevild maar de maan zelf. Op het ritme van eb en vloed paraderen ze door de straten en bezweren ze de oorlogen die nog ergens in hun oren marcheren.

Het vergezellende idyllische geklingel van de vele klokken zet hen aan tot romantisch zoenen. Wie de geschiedenis kent, slaat echter een kruis. In de naam van de Vader en de Zoon en de Heilige Geest. Tik op het hoofd, tik op de borst, linkerschouder, rechterschouder. Ieder volk heeft een groet nodig om zich verbonden te voelen met elkaar en met iets hogers. De ogen van de toerist zien mensen, maar alleen devote mensen, gelukkige mensen. Ouders die met hun kinderen badminton spelen op de sportvelden of touwen tussen bomen spannen om hun evenwicht te oefenen.

De ogen van de toerist zien oefening om de oefening. Sport om de sport. Geloof om het geloof. Zijn blik zoekt objecten en ervaringen die anders zijn dan thuis, die daardoor een brug vormen tussen hier en daar, tussen de sacrale buitenwereld en de besloten binnenwereld. Zijn blik zoekt bevestiging van zijn eigen bestaan.

Geheel anders kijken de ogen van de vele portretten in de raadzaal van het stadhuis, gezanten die ooit de vrede afdwongen door tezamen te knielen voor compromissen. Zij zien stedelingen die zich opmaken voor ongekend gevaar, die evenwicht zoeken tussen de dagelijkse banaliteit en iets dreigends dat hen op de huid zit. Iets wat ze niet kunnen benoemen, wat ze alleen van zich af kunnen slaan met een badmintonracket, een kruisteken of een baseballbat.

Wie daar niet in slaagt, trouwt met een buitenlander en vertrekt, maakt plaats voor nieuw bloed. Ieder jaar brengen zustersteden tonnen studenten aan. Intellectueel kanonnenvlees voor later. Onbezorgd liggen ze in short of bikini in het gras, houden hun leerboeken boven hun hoofden bij wijze van zonnewering.

Als ze wegkijken, branden er geen zwarte vlekken maar definities en grafieken op hun netvlies. Tussen hun kleurige handdoeken en picknicklakens huppen kraaien en konijnen. Alles oogt hier volstrekt vredig en roerloos. Op een muurtje naast een kerk zitten drie oude mannen, met voor hen een rollator, die dienst doet als tafelblad. Op het eerste gezicht lijken ze te kaarten. Welk spel spelen ze?

Een herinnering die dichtvalt. Ze verheffen hun stemmen niet, ze weten dat ze hun adem moeten sparen voor de nacht. Als het spel uit is, tikt een van de mannen met zijn wandelstok op een kassei. Zijn buurman neemt een slok van een borstflesje. De derde man schudt zijn hoofd en verdeelt opnieuw de kaarten. Het trio speelt voort tot de zon laag tussen de rijen herenhuizen op het plein hangt. Op geen enkel moment laten ze hun ritme dicteren door de straatmuzikanten die verderop onder de zuilengalerij wereldse liederen spelen. Een accordeonist en een trompetviolist. Iedere dag vermaken ze elkaar met het ene lied na het andere.

Ze hoeven geen terrassen af te schuimen voor fooien van toeristen. Zelfs als ze tussendoor keuvelen en lachen, rinkelen de munten in hun hoeden. De accordeonist leunt met zijn rug tegen het oudste huis van het plein, een authentieke gevel met ongelijke stenen. Erfeniskwesties, fluisteren de straatstenen. De naburige gebouwen imiteren de zandkleurige voorgevel, maar hun gevels zijn te perfect, te rechtlijnig. Wie deze huizen heropbouwde na de vorige bombardementen, volgde de cadans van de politieke leider wiens radiostem voor altijd in zijn oren zou schallen.

De huizen op dit plein behoren toe aan dezelfde families als alle andere statige gebouwen in de binnenstad. Families die het vastgoed uitsluitend onderling verhandelen. Een selecte kring van mensen die hier het levenslicht zien, studeren, trouwen, werken, fortuinen erven, kunst aankopen, klassieke concerten organiseren in het Slot, applaudisseren en begraven worden in het familiegraf.

Enkel wie in het centrum geboren is en wier ouders en grootouders hier geboren zijn, hoort bij deze stad. Alle anderen blijven voor eens en altijd vreemdelingen. Huurders handig en inwisselbaar, buitenstaanders die niet begrijpen waarom ze er in deze stad niet in slagen te slapen, onwetenden die met open ogen dromen van fanfares die door de straten marcheren, de trommels bespannen met de huid van de maan, hun bloed klotsend in hun oren alsof zijzelf onderhevig zijn aan de getijen.

Hun veters strikken ze blindelings. Wanneer ze op een dag bemerken hoe hun handen niet meer van knopen weten, sluiten ze zich aan bij een van de vele koren of fanfares in de stad. Zolang ze zelf muziek maken, slapen ze moeiteloos door het bonzen van de nacht. Er zijn meisjes en jongens aan wie elk muzikaal talent ontbreekt. Die vroeger iedere avond in slaap werden gezongen door hun moeders en vaders, omdat ze zelf niet bij machte waren de slapeloosheid te overwinnen. Als zij midden in de nacht ontwaakten, kropen ze tussen hun ouders in, wier geronk resoneerde in hun borstkassen en hen rustig stemde.

Deze jongeren gaan nu naar concerten, dansen tot hun benen als loodjes aan hun bekkens hangen, houden elkaar wakker door ritmisch gehijg en slapen als lepels terwijl de platenspeler oude muziek speelt, uit de jeugdjaren van hun ouders. Het geeft hen het gevoel dat ze al leefden voor ze verwekt werden. Een van de slapelozen is een studente van eenentwintig jaar.

Haar lange zwarte haren heeft ze op een dag goud geverfd en draagt ze in een vlecht naast haar rechteroor. De ene dag valt ze voor haar schouder, de andere dag erachter. Dan bedekt ze een tatoeage, bestaande uit drie getallen: Het is niet haar geboortedatum, daar is ze te jong voor. Het is de datum waarop haar ouders elkaar hebben ontmoet, de dag waaruit zij is gekiemd, de dag waar haar bestaan van afhing. De dagen die erna kwamen, doen er niet toe. Daarin groeiden haar ouders steeds verder uit elkaar. Nog voor ze per ongeluk een embryo werd, bestond ze al. Dat is wat telt.

Op de dikke teen van haar rechtervoet staat het getal dertien gedrukt. Toen ze in Amsterdam logeerde, stapte ze een tattooshop binnen zonder te weten wat ze wilde. Het was toen vrijdag de dertiende. Haar lichaam laat zich niet in slaap leiden. Daarna rolt ze uit bed en doet ze yoga in het park. Iedereen heeft vierentwintig uren in een dag om te verdelen over het bed, de badkamer, de keuken, de werktafel, de woonkamer en de buitenwereld. Wat te doen als je beduren zich opstapelen als overuren, in te halen in een verre toekomst? Wat te doen als ze niet in de armen van een vreemde man kan liggen, luisteren hoe zijn ademhaling rustig wordt, overgaat in zacht gebrom, zodat ze kan wegsluipen?

Wat te doen als ze niet in een studentenhuis kan dansen tot het ochtendkrieken? Dan moet ze studeren. Het werk wacht en klopt ongeduldig op haar bureau telkens als ze met tanden rood van de wijn thuiskomt. Ze kan het niet meer uitstellen. Het enige wat haar aandacht nog kan afleiden is het nieuws dat van de andere kant van de wereld haar kamer binnenstroomt.

Daar waar iedereen wakker is. Haar ouders leerden haar vele talen, opdat ze op de hoogte zou zijn van wat er gaande is in de wereld, waarover haar familie verspreid als moedervlekjes woont. Op de kaart boven haar bureau tekent ze een rood kruis op iedere plek waar een aanslag plaatsvindt. Sommige landen dragen zoveel kruizen dat de hoofdstad niet meer leesbaar is, verzonken in een rode zee.

In het werelddeel waarin zij woont, valt het al bij al mee. De frequentie van aanslagen neemt toe, maar er blijven genoeg plaatsen onbeschadigd. Sommige mensen dagdromen ervan aanslagen te verijdelen en lopen bij voorbaat glimlachend en trots rond omwille van hun nakende heldenrol. Anderen gooien molotovcocktails naar vluchtelingencentra. Dat gebeurt in andere steden. In deze stad staat levensvreugd voorop.

Er gaat geen dag voorbij zonder conflict. Sommige dagen geven hoop, anderen zien zwart. Slecht nieuws is altijd en overal te vinden. Groot nieuws dat de mensen om haar heen schokt, komt met vlagen. Een uurtje productiviteit voor de geur van gebakken spek via de trap, onder haar deur, haar neus binnenwaait.

Haar huisgenote is wakker. Ze eten samen spek met eieren. Haar huisgenote vertrekt naar haar werk en zij begint aan haar ochtendslaap. Daarna wacht de dag op haar. Doorheen de dag laaft ze zich met verhalen over de liefde. De nacht stelt zich uit zolang er mensen zijn om naar te luisteren.

Ze toert door Europa en logeert enkele dagen bij het meisje met de gouden vlecht en haar huisgenote. Volgens haar is de enige remedie tegen liefdesverdriet naar muziek luisteren en je zelfmedelijden belijden. De drie andere aanwezigen knikken. Het meisje met de gouden vlecht niet. De jongen rechts van haar houdt zijn hoofd schuin. Door zijn tengere lichaam, zijn haast doorschijnende huid en zijn felgroene ogen heeft hij een androgyn voorkomen. Hij draagt een rood jasje met gouden franjes, dat zo uit de kleerkast van een circusaap is geplukt. Toen heb ik besloten dat niemand het waard is om zulke hoogdravende gevoelens voor te hebben.

En in bed word ik al helemaal week. De afspraken zijn duidelijk. We zijn vrij, niet exclusief, hebben beperkingen noch verplichtingen. Als ik bij hen in de buurt ben, kan ik bij ze logeren. Als ze stom gaan doen, haak ik af. Ik heb straks nog een date met hem. Zelfs als iemand de perfectie benadert, zie ik vooral zijn imperfectie. Hij zit op een matras en leunt met zijn rug tegen een boekenkast. Daarin staan klassiekers als De Toverberg en Het lijden van de jonge Werther. Bovenop de kast kijkt een koperen borstbeeldje van Beethoven met een milde blik naar de twintigers.

Passie en vlees doen het verdere werk. Het meisje met de gouden vlecht knikt. Imperfectie lijkt haar een mooi uitgangspunt voor liefde. Mensen met wangen vol piercings. Ze kent nogal veel moppen over rompjes. Misschien zou dat zelfs gemakkelijker gaan. Ik bedoel dat zulke mensen dichter bij hun kern staan. Ze hebben volgens mij de dood al dieper in de ogen gekeken, waardoor ze het leven en de liefde voller kunnen beleven. De omstandigheden dwingen je er dan toe voortdurend alert te zijn.

Reageren op je instincten. Je hebt niet meer de luxe rationeel te zijn, omdat alles voortdurend aan een zijden draadje hangt. Het is toch gruwelijk te bedenken dat iedere zot online wapens kan bestellen en via een tutorial een bom in elkaar kan knutselen. Twee vrienden van mijn moeder hebben kort nadien er ook een eind aan gemaakt. Misschien waren ze dat al lang van plan, misschien niet. Zijn dood gaf hen een duwtje in de rug. Zij inspireren weer andere mensen. Of gewone mensen op een zwak moment? Misschien waren ze al lang iets van plan, misschien niet.

Het heeft alles te maken met timing. Hun vrouw heeft hen juist verlaten, een collega heeft iets doms gezegd. Hoe dan ook, de omstandigheden maken hen ontvankelijk. Aangemoedigd door wat ze in de media vernemen, ondernemen ze actie. Haar huisgenote werpt haar seksuele kreetjes achterna terwijl ze de trap afdaalt. Vooraleer ze de voordeur opent, stift ze haar lippen rood. Hij verplaatst zijn ukelele naar zijn linkerhand, neemt haar pols vast en kust haar vingers. Ze laat zich graag omringen door welbespraakte mannen, maar deze jongen intrigeert haar juist omdat hij zo zwijgzaam is.

Ze doorkruisen de gezellige studentenbuurt, stoppen bij haar favoriete Italiaanse restaurant om een fles Ramazzotti in te slaan en wandelen voort tot ze bij een verlaten plek komen. Daar zingt hij al tokkelend op zijn ukelele terwijl zij bescheiden slokken van de likeur neemt. Ze heeft hem ontmoet in een hotel waar ze enkele weken als receptioniste werkte. Hij was er geen gewone bartender. Al jonglerend met flessen, shakers, glazen en limoenen vermaakte hij de hotelgasten.

Iedere avond dromde een groepje kijklustigen samen en bestelde de ene cocktail na de andere, om doorlopend van zijn kunsten te kunnen genieten. Soms joelden ze zo luid dat ze hen tot aan de receptie kon horen. Als hij klaar was met zijn show, haastte hij zich naar buiten.

Hij zei haar steevast gedag, maar keek daarbij naar de grond. Ze vond het aandoenlijk dat iemand die een hele avond in de schijnwerpers stond zo verlegen kon zijn. Op haar laatste avond sprak zij hem aan. Of hij nog wat langer wilde blijven, haar shift zat er bijna op.

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