ND Reading Guide
ND Guide Pages 354-400


After Auschwitz 354-358
Reflective people, and artists, not seldom have the feeling of not quite being there, of not playing along; as if they were not at all themselves, but a sort of spectator. In many cases others find this repugnant; Kierkegaard based his polemic against what he called the aesthetic sphere on this. What in the meantime the critique of philosophical personalism speaks to, is that this position towards the immediate, which disavows all existential attitudes, arrives at its objective truth in a moment which leads beyond the delusion of the self-preserving motive. In the "it isn't all that important", which for its part indeed is happy to ally itself with bourgeois coldness, the individual [Individuum] can soonest of all, yet without fear, become conscious of the nullity of existence. That which is inhuman in this, the capacity to distance oneself and rise above things by being a spectator, is in the end precisely what is human, whose ideologues react so vehemently against. It is not entirely implausible, that that part, which conducts itself so, would be the immortal one. The scene in which Shaw on the way to the theater showed his identification to a beggar and hurriedly said "press", hides under the cynicism something of the consciousness of this. It would help to explain the matter-at-hand, which astonished Schopenhauer: that the emotions in sight of the death not only of others but also our own, are many times over so weak. Very likely human beings are without exception under a bane, none capable of love, and for that reason each and every one feels not loved enough. But the attitude of being a spectator expresses at the same time the doubt as to whether this could be all there is, while nonetheless the subject, so relevant in its delusion, has nothing other than that poverty and ephemerality, which is animalistic in its impulses. Under the bane living beings have the alternative between involuntary ataraxy – an aesthetic of weakness – and the animality of the involved. Both are false life. Something of each however belongs to a right désinvolture [off-handedness] and sympathy.

Adorno is often tagged, by those who aren't too familiar with his theory or jump to conclusions about his dense, complex style, as a mandarin intellectual, speaking from some priestly position of High Truth in an ivory tower. When you look more closely at what he writes, though, this optical illusion vanishes, and what you end up with is truly extraordinary, precisely for its ability to do justice to the most commonplace, everyday experiences; in this case, the feeling of being a spectator, of being on the sidelines, which is one of the most fundamental experiences of multinational capitalism. Adorno forestalls the immediate objection to this, i.e. that spectators are just bystanders, too lazy to get involved with the business of making history, by noting that the appeal to direct immediacy paradoxically correlates with the coldness of capitalist society, the fact that, as the price of our status as consumers, people can't afford to spend too much time worrying about who produced the goods we consume, where or why. This is true emotionally, too: in a society predicated on constantly increasing productivity, consumption, and distribution, everything we do is rushed, everyone is in a hurry, busily keeping up with everyone else. The widespread feeling that noone cares, that noone is particularly valued by the system, is the dim recognition of the harsh truth, that the totality really doesn't care about the fate of individuals. Capitalists come and go, but it's the collective set of social relations called "capital" which survives; conversely, sometimes the most effective resistance to the totality is not caring, resisting the immediate impulse to go with the flow, bend with the trend, to say and do what everyone else does. Against the false alternatives of total disinterest (complete non-participation, complete autarky and refusal to play the game) and total absorption (complete participation, putting the game ahead of everything else) which the total system foists on people, Adorno offers the utopian motifs of offhandedness and sympathy: an immediacy qualified by the possibility of what is humane, and a disinterest which is nevertheless cognizant of the immediate needs of human beings.


Metaphysics and Culture 358-361
All culture after Auschwitz, including its urgent critique, is garbage. By restoring itself after what transpired in its landscape without resistance, it has turned entirely into that ideology which it potentially was, ever since it took it upon itself, in opposition to material existence, to breathe life into this latter with the light, which the separation of the Spirit from manual labor withheld from such. Whoever pleads for the preservation of a radically culpable and shabby culture turns into its accomplice, while those who renounce culture altogether immediately promote the barbarism, which culture reveals itself to be. Not even silence can break out of the circle; it merely rationalizes one's own subjective incapacity with the state of objective truth and debases this once more into a lie. If the Eastern states have, in spite of their twaddle to the contrary, abolished culture and transformed it as a pure means of domination into junk, this is what that culture, which moans about this, only deserves, and to what for its part, in the name of the democratic right of human beings to what already resembles them, it zealously tends. It is only that the administrative barbarism of the functionaries over there [in the East], by praising itself as culture and proclaiming its bad state of affairs as a precious and sacred legacy, convicts its reality, the infrastructure, to be as barbaric for its part as the superstructure they demolish, by taking it under control. In the West, it is at least permitted to say so.

This devastating snapshot of the official Cold War blocs needs a bit explanation. First of all, Adorno is criticizing the mainstream, official culture of the immediate post-WW II period, which was deeply conservative, excluded or repressed the interwar modernisms, and worst of all, hardly needed to be imposed by the two superpowers (US, USSR) on their respective buffer zones - these zones fell over themselves repressing themselves and their own radical traditions. Second, Adorno explicitly equates the Western technocrats and military-industrial elites with the Eastern nomenklatura or party-state elites, effectively buzzing both sides of the Berlin Wall, simultaneously. We pretty much take this point of view for granted today, i.e. that the East and West eventually converged into the monster called neoliberalism, but this was a shocking cognition in 1966, which provoked the most furious denunciations by mainstream observers. Thirty years later, Adorno was 100% right and the mainstream was 100% wrong, but that's not something which will ever make it into the pillar of establishment thinking known as the New York Times (though maybe Ted Koppel will do a special on it some day).


Happiness and Waiting in Vain 366-368
What metaphysical experience would be, to those who eschew the reduction of this to presumably religious primal experiences, is closest to how Proust imagined it, in the happiness promised by the names of villages like Otterbach, Watterbach, Reuenthal, Monbrunn. You think that if you go there, you would be in what is fulfilled, as if it really existed. If you really go there, that which is promised recedes like a rainbow. Nevertheless you aren't disappointed; rather, you feel that you are too close, and that's why you don't see it. This is presumably why the difference between landscapes and the districts, which determine the world of images of childhood, is not that great. What Proust experienced at Illiers was something many children of the same social strata shared at different places. But for this generality, what is authentic in Proust's portrayal, to form, one must be enraptured at that one spot, without squinting at the generality. To the child it is obvious that what delights it about its favorite little town is to be found there and only there, and nowhere else; it errs, but its error constitutes the model of experience, that of a concept, which ultimately would be that of the thing itself, not the poverty of that which is shorn away from things.

Proust is an essential author for Adorno, mostly because of the skill, subtlety and aesthetic grace of Proust's epic meditation on time; every sentence Proust writes is deeply and reflexively cognizant of its own time-space, of the bodily happiness encoded in words, memories, the configurations of the Parisian streets and rural French villages, which is tied to an interpretive system which draws its forms from a distinctly international aesthetics (Proust was a keen observer of the rising culture-industry of his day, and constantly draws these international parallels). For a comparable experience, one would have to think of one's own attachment to certain words, phrases, musical motifs, images, which conjure up worlds of memory for us, the people we care about, who may have long since vanished from the face of the Earth, but who we feel are still somehow there, within us. This feeling is the germ-cell of a solidarity which extends beyond the immediate experience and the memory alike, a non-violent affinity between a highly mediated subject and equally mediated objects, which honors the dignity of both and damages or constrains neither; the utopia of a free and equal cultural exchange, if you will, between subjects and objects emancipated (even if only momentarily) from the bane of the commodity form.


"Nihilism" 369-374
Those to whom despair is not a terminus may ask, as to whether it were better, that there be nothing at all rather than something. Even this admits to no general answer. For a human being in a concentration camp, if someone who had escaped in time could at all judge over this, it would be better if they had not been born. Nevertheless the ideal of nothingness would evaporate before the momentary quiver of an eye, indeed before the feeble tail-wagging of a dog, which one has just given a treat, which it promptly forgets. To the question, as to whether one is a nihilist or not, a thinking person would very likely have to answer with the truth: too little, perhaps out of coldness, because one's sympathy with that which suffers is too slight. In nothingness culminates the abstraction, and the abstract is what is reprehensible. Beckett reacted to the situation of the concentration-camps, which he does not name, as if there were a ban on such like that of the graven image, in the only befitting manner. What is, is like the concentration-camp. Once he speaks of a lifelong death-sentence. The only hope, faintly dawning, is that there would be nothing anymore. This too he rejects. Out of the fissure of inconsistency formed by this, the image-world of nothingness appears as something which tethers his poetry. In the legacy of its treatment, of the apparently stoical carrying-on, what is noiselessly screamed is that things ought to be different. Such nihilism implies the opposite of the identification with nothingness. Gnostically, it regards the world as it has been created as radically evil and its repudiation the possibility of a different, not yet existent one. So long as the world is as it is, then all images of reconciliation, peace and quiet resemble those of death. The smallest difference between nothingness and that which has come to rest, would be the refuge of hope, the no-man's-land between the border-posts of being and nothingness. From that zone needs to be extricated, instead of overcoming, the consciousness of what the alternative would have no power over.

This passage begins with the trope of nothingness and the ideology of nihilism (essentially, a 20th century anarchism shorn of the latter's belief in individual agency), passes through the bubble-chamber of Beckett's poetry, and then proceeds to document an extraordinary narrative convergence with Sartre, literally as the space of some future multinational dialectics, occupying the non-space between "the border-posts of being and nothingness"; the task of theory is to recuperate the consciousness of this zone, over which the false alternatives -- to pledge allegiance to a repressive identity, or perish -- can be historicized and thereby resisted. Interestingly, Adorno locates the cultural equivalent of this consciousness in nihilism, which in the 1960s would have a distinctly existential or proto-counter-cultural ring to it; one of the most common denunciations of the counter-culture was its so-called nihilism, its refusal to obey or even respect the mores of the Establishment. The transcendental cultural works of the 1960s, from the music of Jimi Hendrix and the Velvet Underground to the cinema of Battle of Algiers and Memories of Underdevelopment, and from the novels of Naguib Mahfouz to Patrick McGoohan’s TV series The Prisoner, are the first aesthetic documents of that space.


Desire of Salvation and Block 377-382
Kant, who frowned upon the precipitate rush into intelligible worlds, equates the subjective side of Newtonian science with cognition, the correspondingly objective one with truth. The question of how metaphysics would be possible as a science is thus to be taken precisely: as to whether it satisfies the criteria of a cognition oriented towards the ideal of mathematics and so-called classical physics. The Kantian posing of the problem, which bears in mind the metaphysics he assumes to be a natural predisposition, refers to the "how" of the generalized and necessarily supposed cognition; but really means its "what", its possibility itself. He repudiates this, according to the measure of that ideal. Science, which is released from any further reservations due to its imposing results, is however the product of bourgeois society. The rigidly dualistic basic structure of Kant's rational-critical model duplicates that of a relation of production, in which commodities fall out of machines like his phenomena fall out of the cognitive mechanism; where the material and its own determinacy are as indifferent in relation to their profit as in Kant, who has it stenciled in. The end-product, which has exchange-value, resembles the Kantian objects, which are subjectively produced and accepted as objectivity. The permanent reductio ad hominem [Latin: reduction to the person] of everything which appears equips cognition for the ends of internal and external domination; its highest expression is the principle of unity, borrowed from that of compartmentalized production, divided into partial acts. What makes the Kantian theory of rationality grandiose is that it is really interested only in the realm of authority of scientific propositions.

This remarkable passage illustrates the relationship of Kant's philosophy to the dynamics of commodity production, through the mediation of the national juridical and legal structures which grounded themselves on the empirical methods of the 18th-century natural sciences (remember the Declaration of Independence? "We hold these truths to be self-evident…"). Adorno historicizes this particular antinomy, showing how the commodities being produced by British manufactories during the 1780s are directly tied to the Kantian antinomies of the same time-period. This suggests, in turn, that one of the key functions of theory is a rethinking of science and the scientific fields, which at their outermost limit are forms of labor, the labor of collective cognition, incarnated in countless research departments, laboratories, and individual researchers. This is the signal achievement, of course, of Stephen Jay Gould's indispensable explorations of the construction, social function and collective responsibility of science, which pay close attention to the individual scientific problem and situation while doing justice to the historical framework of such.


Mundus Intelligibilis 382-386
The concept of the intelligible is neither one of something real nor one of something imaginary. Rather aporetic. Nothing on earth and nothing in the empty heavens is to be saved, by defending it. The "yes but" retort to the critical argument, which does not wish something to be torn away from it, already has the form of the stubbornly insistent existent, of the clinging, irreconcilable with the idea of salvation, in which the cramp of such prolonged self-preservation would relax. Nothing can be saved untransformed, nothing, which has not made its way through the door of its death. If salvation is the innermost impulse of every Spirit, then is there no hope except that of unreserved abandonment: of what is to be rescued as well as of the Spirit, which hopes. The gestus of hope is that which holds onto nothing of what the subject itself wishes to hold onto, by which the latter promises itself, that it would endure. The intelligible, in the spirit of Kant's setting of boundaries no less than that of the Hegelian method, would be to go beyond these, to think solely negatively. Paradoxically, the intelligible sphere envisaged by Kant would be once more "appearance" [Erscheinung]: what returns to that which is hidden from the finite Spirit, what it is compelled to think and by virtue of its own finitude deforms. The concept of the intelligible is the self-negation of the finite Spirit.

Simply a dazzling passage. "Nothing can be saved untransformed", notes Adorno, registering the weight of the horror of the existent, of the almost unimaginable power of the market forces, which force 6 billion people to toe the neoliberal line, at the price of their very survival, while at the same time doing justice to the moment of resistance here: the moment when the object passes through "the door of its death", i.e. becomes cognizant of its own transience and thus comes out the other side, into what cannot yet be imagined. The most compelling contemporary model for this are the scenes late in Hideaki Anno's mind-blowing Neon Genesis: Evangelion, when Asuka imagines herself running through one false-color, hallucinogenic door after another, running towards what she thinks is the future, before realizing, to her horror, that she's been running towards her past: the scene shifts, and we are no longer looking at the doors from Asuka's first-person perspective, but from a static shot at a distance, along with a crucial silhouette (it wouldn't be fair to give away the narrative before you've seen it -- rent the tapes/DVDs and see for yourself). Remarkably, Adorno uses this opportunity to reflect on the transience of philosophy in general, pointing out that Kant's categories, no matter how dated they may seem, will be with us for as long as the concrete situation he responded to - namely, the imposition of abstract juridical structures on cognizing subjects, who can no longer be simply commanded to obey, but must be strategically swayed, persuaded and convinced, or what could be termed the emergence of the marketplace of consciousness. That's why the concept of death in this passage is closely linked to the bane of the totality Adorno maps out elsewhere; death is something like the allegorical shadow cast by the information commodity over the multinational subject, which reminds it that it, too, has an expiration date, like any other commodity in the total system. Rather than throwing up our hands in despair and docilely accepting our fate, Adorno wants us to think through this transience and come out the other side, henceforth armed with the insight that the total system has no future. Rather, it has only an eternal present, i.e. the impetus to expand the commodity form, over the entire Earth, but it takes no account of the achievements of the past or the possibilities of the future (those of our own limited individual subjectivities, as well as those of humanity, and indeed those of Nature itself). Grasping these latter thus becomes crucial to a multinational dialectics.


Appearance [Schein] of the Other 394-397
The course of the world is not completely conclusive, also not absolute despair; this latter is on the contrary its conclusiveness. As untenable as the traces of the Other are in it; as much as all happiness is distorted by its revocability, the existent is nevertheless shot through, in the gaps which stamp identity as a lie, with the promises, constantly broken again, of that Other. Every happiness is a fragment of the total happiness, which human beings are denied and which they deny themselves. Convergence, the humanly promised Other of history, points unswervingly to what ontology illegitimately resettles before history or exempts from it. The concept is not real, as the ontological proof would have it, but it could not be thought, if something in the thing did not press towards it. Kraus, who, armored against every tangible, imaginatively unimaginative assertion of transcendence, preferred to read this latter longingly rather than cancel it out, was no romantic liberal metaphorist. Though metaphysics is not to be resurrected – the concept of resurrection belongs to creatures, to not something created, and is in intellectual forms the index of its untruth – but perhaps it only originates with the realization of what is thought in its sign. Art anticipates something of this. Nietzsche's work overflows with invective against metaphysics. But no formulation describes the latter more faithfully than that of Zarathustra: pure fool, pure poet. The thinking artist understood the unthought art. The thought, which does not capitulate before the miserably ontic, turns by the latter's criteria into nothing, truth into untruth, philosophy into folly. Nevertheless it cannot abdicate, lest stupidity triumph in realized unreason. Aux sots je préfère les fous [French: To pigs, I prefer fools]. Folly is truth in the form, with which human beings are stricken, as soon as they do not, in the midst of the untrue, let go of truth. Even in its highest achievements art is appearance [Schein]; the appearance [Schein], however, what is irresistible in it, it receives from what does not appear [Scheinlosen]. By refraining from judgement, it says, especially the ones scorned as nihilistic, that everything would not be just nothing. Otherwise, what always is, would be pale, colorless, indifferent. There is no light on human beings and things, in which transcendence is not reflected. Inextinguishable, the resistance against the fungible world of exchange in that of the eye, which does not want the colors of the world to be destroyed. In appearance [Schein] is the promise of what does not appear [Scheinlose].

Time and time again the reproach is leveled against Adorno that he's nothing but a whiny, gloomy German mandarin with nothing constructive to say; even sympathetic readers often come away feeling disoriented, as if the secure, grounded truths they expected to find had moved beneath their feet. The reason, paradoxical as it sounds, is that Adorno is nowhere at his most utopian than when he is seemingly most gloomy. "Every happiness is a fragment of the total happiness," says Adorno at one point, "which human beings are denied and which they deny themselves." This extraordinary thought holds up the insufficiency of all hitherto existing happiness against the total unhappiness of a world enslaved by capital, a set of global social relations created by human beings, whereby human beings exploit other human beings; no matter how joyful or fulfilled our own lives may be, this is tempered by the global unhappiness of our sisters and brothers in Africa, Asia, and Latin America, by the fact that 98% of the people on this planet have to bust their ass for a living, don't have much in the way of savings, and are highly dependent on extremely fickle market forces for their livelihood. The same dialectic is at work in Adorno's description of Schein or appearance, which is used here in its most promising, utopian sense, as the dialectical antipode of the bane; great works of art are nothing but appearance, of course, and even at their most real - championship sports games, say, where real bodies are flying up and down the court, rink or field - they remain games, an aesthetic performance which always refers to more general social processes (otherwise, they wouldn't have the deep subjective power and appeal they have, i.e. the undeniable thrill of watching an underdog team demolish the favorite). But this, argues Adorno, is precisely why aesthetics has the utopian power it does: because it is just the slightest bit different from the existent, it can dream of worlds yet to be, no matter how indistinctly. "In appearance [Schein] is the promise of what does not appear [Scheinlose]", says Adorno, and this is as true of Klee, Kafka and Beckett as it is of the great works of McGoohan, Kieslowski and Anno.


Self-reflection of Dialectics 397-400
At question is, whether metaphysics, as the knowledge of the absolute, would at all be possible without the construction of absolute knowledge, without that idealism, which lends its title to the last chapter of the Hegelian Phenomenology. Doesn't it say, that whoever deals with the absolute, would necessarily be the thinking organ, capable of doing this, precisely thereby itself the absolute; would not dialectics, on the other hand, in the transition to a metaphysics, which is not simply the same as dialectics, violate its own strict concept of negativity? Dialectics, the epitome of negative knowledge, would like none other beside it; even as the negative kind, it drags along with itself the commandment of exclusivity from the positive kind, from the system. It would have to negate, according to such reasoning, non-dialectical consciousness as finite and fallible. In all its historical forms it has refused to step out of it. It mediated conceptually, whether willed or no, between the unconditional and the finite spirit; this made theology intermittently time and again into its enemy. Although it thinks the absolute, the latter remains, as something mediated by the former, in thrall to conditioned thought. If the Hegelian absolute was the secularization of the deity, then nevertheless precisely that of its secularization; as the totality of the Spirit that absolute remained enchained to its finite human model. If thought however in the undiminished consciousness of this reaches, gropingly, beyond anything of this sort, in that it names the Other as something utterly incommensurable to it, which it nevertheless thinks, then it will find shelter nowhere else than in the dogmatic tradition. Thinking is in such thoughts alien to its content, unreconciled, and newly condemned to two sorts of truth, which would be incompatible with the idea of the true. Metaphysics depends upon whether one can get out of this aporia without underhanded trickery. To do this, dialectics, at once the imprint of the universal context of mystification and its critique, must turn in one last movement against itself. The critique of everything particular, which posits itself absolutely, is that of the shadow of absoluteness over the critique itself, of the fact that it, too, against its tendency, must remain in the medium of the concept. It destroys the identity-claim, by honoring it in its testing. That is why it only reaches so far as this latter. The latter stamps the former as the magic circle with the appearance [Schein] of absolute knowledge. It is up to its self-reflection to cancel it out, exactly therein the negation of the negation, which does not cross over into a position. Dialectics is the self-consciousness of the objective context of delusion, not something already escaped from this latter. To break out of the latter from inside, is objectively its goal. The power to break out grows in it from the context of immanence; what would apply to it, once more, is Hegel's dictum, that dialectics would absorb the power of the opponent, turning it against the latter; not only in what is dialectically individual but in the end in the whole. It grasps, with the means of logic, this latter's character of compulsion, hoping that it would yield. The absolute however, as it hovers before metaphysics, would be the non-identical, which would only emerge until after the identity-compulsion dissolved. Without the identity-thesis dialectics is not the whole; but therefore also no cardinal sin, to leave it in a dialectical step. It lies in the determination of negative dialectics, that it does not come to rest within itself, as if it were total; that is its form of hope. Kant indicated something of this in the doctrine of the transcendental thing in itself beyond the mechanism of identification. However stringent the critique of that doctrine by his successors, they regressively reinforced the bane that much more, just like the post-revolutionary bourgeoisie as a whole: they hypostasized the compulsion itself as the absolute. To be sure Kant, for his part, in the determination of the thing in itself as that of an intelligible essence, conceived of transcendence as the non-identical, but equated it with the absolute subject, bowing nonetheless to the identity-principle. The process of cognition, which is supposed to approach the transcendental thing asymptotically, slides it ahead of itself, as it were, and removes it from consciousness. The identifications of the absolute transpose it onto the human beings, from whom the identity-principle derives; they are, as they at times confess and as the enlightenment can strikingly demonstrate to them every time, anthropomorphisms. That is why the absolute, which the Spirit approaches, melts away before it: its approach is a mirage. However the successful elimination of every anthropomorphism, with which the context of delusion would be removed, very likely coincides in the end with this latter, with absolute identity. To deny the secret by identification, by constantly tearing more chunks out of it, does not solve it. Rather, as though in play, it stamps the control of nature as a lie, by means of the memento of the powerlessness of its power. Enlightenment leaves as good as nothing left of metaphysical truth-content, presque rien [French: almost nothing] after a modern musical term. What shrinks back becomes ever smaller, just as Goethe portrayed in the parable of the little box of the New Melusine, which names an extremity; ever more inconspicuous [unscheinbarer]; this is the reason that, in the critique of cognition as much as in the philosophy of history, metaphysics migrates into micrology. This latter is the place of metaphysics as the refuge from what is total. Nothing absolute is to be expressed otherwise than in the subject-matter and categories of immanence, while nevertheless this latter is not to be deified either in its conditionality or as its total summation. Metaphysics is, according to its own concept, not possible as a deductive context of judgements over the existent. Just as little can it be thought according to the model of that which is absolutely divergent, which fearsomely mocks thinking. Consequently it would be possible solely as the legible constellation of the existent. From this latter it would receive its material, without which it would not be, would not however transfigure the existence of its elements, but would bring them instead into a configuration, in which the elements assemble into a script. To that end it must be good at wishing. That the wish would be a bad father to the thought, has been since Xenophanes one of the general theses of the European enlightenment, and still applies undiminished against the ontological attempts at restoration. But thinking, itself a conduct, contains the need – at first the life-and-death necessity – in itself. One thinks out of need, even where "wishful thinking" [in English] is dismissed. The motor of the need is that of the effort, which thinking involves as activity. The object of critique is therefore not the need in thinking but the relationship between both. The need in thinking wishes, however, that there would be thinking. It demands its negation through thinking, it must disappear into thinking, if it is really supposed to be satisfied, and in this negation it lives on, representing in the innermost cells of thought, what is not the same as the latter. The smallest innerworldly markings would be relevant to the absolute, for the micrological glance demolishes the shells of that which is helplessly compartmentalized according to the measure of its subsuming master concept and explodes its identity, the deception, that it would be merely an exemplar. Such thinking is solidaristic with metaphysics in the moment of the latter's fall.

This last section of ND is quoted in its entirety, due to its vast density, depth and sheer narrative drive. Way back in Dialectic of Enlightenment, Adorno and Horkheimer wrote that the Enlightenment must consider itself, if it is not to regress into unending barbarism; here, Adorno takes up the same theme, and creates what can only be described as the warp-terminal to 21st century dialectics. First, after sketching out the limit-point of the Hegelian system, namely the historical emergence of capital in its own right, Adorno traces out the movements of a provisional multinational dialectics, as a kind of recoil from the lattermost borders of what can be conceptualized, to the reality which that concept wishes to cognize; it follows that such a dialectics can never entirely stop or come to rest, so long as the total system, which is itself always in motion, continues to exist. The absolutely essential contribution theory can make here is to read the movement of that system out of its constituent elements, forming what Adorno calls a script, something which needs to be understood not in the narrowly linguistic or structuralist sense of a writing or code which refers to something else, but codes which set still other codes and mediations into motion, whose two most notorious contemporary models are the software program and the DNA code. One of the really stupendous features of Adorno's work is that he anticipates the information socialisms of the future, in such totally unexpected and somehow concrete ways. This latter insight, in turn, is immediately conjoined to the concluding reflection on the micrology, which is not merely the postmodern update of the Freudian case study, but is part of an aesthetic program: it is the "micrological glance" which demolishes the reified shells of what exists, demystifying the objects (some of whom are living beings) of the total system, and thereby unleashing the potential of a multinational solidarity with what that system ceaselessly objectifies.