The book offers a vibrant and engaging portrayal, showcasing the author's energetic and daring writing style. With artful intelligence, it captivates readers through its unique insights and compelling narrative.
The limitation of violence through state powers is a key project of modernity, yet recent centuries have been marked by bloodshed. In this work, Jan Philipp Reemtsma explores the paradox that efforts to reduce violence have been accompanied by the misconception that it is abnormal and incomprehensible. He argues that recognizing violence as a normal aspect of human behavior is essential. Reemtsma posits that understanding violence requires an examination of trust, asserting that true power lies not in violence but in the ability to foster trust. He supports his argument with a historical analysis of ideas about violence, referencing thinkers from ancient philosophy to modern theorists, and examining specific instances of extreme violence, including medieval torture and the Holocaust. Despite the grim nature of his analysis, Reemtsma notes that even dictators rely on trust; they cannot solely depend on violence for their security. Authoritarian leaders must cultivate trust while employing non-violent means to gain loyalty. Thus, the history of violence reveals a complex interplay between violence and trust, highlighting trust's vital role in human society. This insightful exploration spans philosophy, sociology, and political theory, offering a thought-provoking perspective on two fundamental aspects of our world.
"This essay takes as its narrative framework the legendary Ali vs. Joe Frazier fight in Manila in 1975, which Jan Philipp Reemtsma follows in three-round sections. Intercut with these vivid and telling accounts of what actually is going on (as opposed to what merely appears to be) are much wider ranging sections exploring the choreography (it is not too grand a word) that Ali crafted for his greatest title bouts, how he created a style that became its own myth, how he then came to have to act that style in the ring, and its damaging consequences." "Reemtsma also provides portraits of Ali's opponents: Sonny Liston, George Foreman, Ken Norton, and, above all, Joe Frazier, the strongest "big puncher" of them all. He even produces a startling analysis of Sylvester Stallone's five Rocky movies to show how closely linked they are with the changing mythology of Ali, then opens up that myth so that we see how Ali the man and what he represents are connected with our own lives."--BOOK JACKET
Jan Philipp Reemtsma, at forty-seven, is the heir to a vast fortune, making him a lifelong target. A brilliant intellectual and director of the Hamburg Institute for Social Research, he has faced backlash for his candid scholarship on Germany's twentieth-century history. On March 25, 1996, he was violently abducted outside his home, thrust into a harrowing ordeal where he was chained in a dark cellar for thirty-three days. His captors sought a $20 million ransom, and their motives were purely mercenary. In a gripping, unflinching narrative, Reemtsma recounts his daily life in captivity, detailing the emotional, psychological, and physical toll of his situation. He describes the agonizing days spent pacing in chains, the bittersweet gratitude for minimal comforts, and the despair following failed ransom attempts. A complex bond formed with the kidnapper's leader adds depth to his experience. He shares poignant notes written to his wife and son, revealing his emotional vulnerability. Beyond the harrowing events, Reemtsma explores the lasting impact of trauma, illustrating how such experiences can disrupt one's inner balance and how the cellar has become an inseparable part of his identity.
Reemtsmas Überlegungen zur Gewalt – in zwei Texten gebündelt: zum einen in »Gewalt als attraktive Lebensform betrachtet«, seinem Abschiedsvortrag vom Hamburger Institut für Sozialforschung, zum anderen in seinem Essay »Gewalt und Vertrauen. Grundzüge einer Theorie der Gewalt in der Moderne«. Es geht u. a. um die Frage, warum ›ganz normale‹ Menschen (meist Männer) – oder gar: ›ganz normale Familienväter‹ – unvorstellbare Grausamkeiten begehen. Allein diese Frage zu stellen sei, so Reemtsma, »albern, weil die Antwort auf der Hand liegt: Wer denn sonst?« Wundern sollte uns vielmehr, »warum diese Massaker nicht das letzte Wort der bisherigen Geschichte geblieben sind.«
»Man kann Bücher leider nur einmal zum ersten Mal lesen. Die großen Autoren entschädigen für diese traurige Einmaligkeit dadurch, daß ihre Bücher bei der zweiten und dritten Lektüre sich erst wirklich entfalten.« In zwölf Annäherungen aus höchst unterschiedlichen Richtungen erkundet Jan Philipp Reemtsma das Schmidtsche poetische Terrain. Dabei wird deutlich: Arno Schmidts Bücher sind voll Witz und Komik. Reemtsmas Lektüreprotokolle bestätigen die These, wonach die Bedeutung eines Werkes daran gemessen werden kann, wie viele Verständnismöglichkeiten es eröffnet. Zugleich führen diese Essays vor: Diese Bedeutungsvielfalt, das Aufspüren überraschender Perspektiven und verborgener Zusammenhänge setzt einen Leser voraus, der sich genauestens an den Wortlaut der Texte hält und im selben Moment aufgrund seines Wissens eine Unzahl von Assoziationen freisetzt. Reemtsmas Freude während der Lektüre teilt sich in seinem Schreiben über Arno Schmidt mit: sie steckt zu eigenen Leseentdeckungen an. Politik, Sexualität, poetische Sendung – so vielfältig die Möglichkeiten sind, sich dem Werk Arno Schmidts zu nähern, so eindeutig ist die Einladung, diesen Ausnahme-Autor neu oder wieder zu lesen. »Was ist der Mensch? El hombre es un cigarro - am Ende bloß noch'n ausgeknatschter ekler Stumpm, und etwas Asche. – Was iss das Lebm? Die Auflehnung der Eiweiße gegen die Silikate.« Arno Schmidt
Al risveglio Adorno annotava meticolosamente quel che la sua fantasia gli aveva dettato durante il sonno; poi sua moglie Gretel copiava a macchina gli appunti. Prendeva così corpo, dal 1934 al 1969, la cospicua raccolta dei "protocolli onirici", di cui questo volume è la prima edizione completa. Vicende erotiche più o meno arzigogolate, strane apparizioni di amici - come Max Horkheimer nelle vesti di un autista spericolato -, scene trasfigurate dell'emigrazione in America o immagini sinistre del mondo hitleriano: in questo libro, scrive Michele Ranchetti, "chi sogna conosce Freud, ma i sogni non lo conoscono. Per questo Adorno li sottrae a qualsiasi interferenza interpretativa. Egli sa bene che ogni trascrizione, anche la più semplice, la più anodina, è già una trasformazione, una piccola metamorfosi; ma, come Kafka per il suo personaggio, non indica la misura del mutamento".