By LUCYANE DE MORAES*

Flávio Beno and the memories of the Second World War, as well as the biography of two distinct thinkers who inherited the Frankfurt School

It was in 2011, exactly 14 years ago. Determined to reveal some of his memories, I was interested in hearing them in a conversation that was initially supposed to deal with methodologies adopted in academic projects. It was supposed to be a brief encounter. But it became something valuable and prolonged, filled with sincere smiles, distant knowledge and unforgettable flavors, typical for lovers of good German cuisine.

Among the snacks and delicacies, the predominant dishes were wholemeal rye bread, with its deep flavor and compact texture, the traditional smoked and marinated herring, the well-known wursts, popular sausages served with mustard, and the undisputed queen of German drinks, pilsner beer, which, combined with the dishes, accompanied conversations, ideas and memories, irrefutably present through the simple ritual of its enjoyment.

Paying attention to someone who respected the basic rules of good argumentation, I was inclined to listen to him. He was tall, thin, white, had small eyes and large glasses. He spoke softly, believing that harsh words would not arouse interest. His name was Flávio Beno. Among other skills, he worked as a philosophy teacher as his main job. One thing he knew for sure: the best argument always wins. And although I often disagreed with his conservative view of “the world of life,” I confess that it was not easy to remain immune to his rhetorical ability.

As in a theoretical framework, he wove the thread of his affective images, transporting me to the last decades of the 20th century in Germany, a period in which he met the man who would become his teacher and mentor, the philosopher Jünger Habermas. And when he recalled in detail his first meeting with the Master, revealed that everything he was going to say was not mere fiction. “It was history that was still alive.”

At the time, he intended for the prestigious professor, a recognized theorist in the tradition of pragmatism, to be the supervisor of his new research. And so a meeting was arranged. The presentation of his work project took place in the office of the Herr Professor. As Germans would have it, he asked to be announced. Habermas, who was on the phone, asked him to wait a few moments and then greeted him with the usual German academic formality. As the meeting progressed and their affinities became increasingly evident, the conversation was interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door.

There was no time to even refuse someone's visit. Suddenly, a young man, somewhat hastily and unaware that there was an audience taking place between teacher and student, declared, standing up and with the door ajar, that he had come to finish the conversation they had started on the phone. And without hesitation, he began a story about the Second World War, in which, in his memories, he had fought on the eastern front for the German army. After being captured, it was while still a prisoner of war in occupied France that he began his studies in philosophy.

In the middle of the narrative, a certain discomfort arises when he realizes that Jürgen Habermas was receiving a student. He then made a move to return at a more opportune moment. Flávio, embarrassed by his momentary helplessness, but not wanting to interrupt, offers to wait in the anteroom so that his friends can talk calmly. With a fixed gaze, Jürgen Habermas asks him to remain seated there. And addressing his friend-visitor, he professes in a somewhat enigmatic way his anguish at having himself been subjected to political manipulation during the period in which he belonged to the Hitler Youth (Hitler Youth). The friend, in turn, directly consoles him:

– “You were even younger than me, you had no choice. With me, the savagery of that moment expressed itself in a more violent way, because I had to take up arms. Today I understand the whole situation and I know that all of that no longer belongs to me. Therefore, I ask you for a little serenity every time useless feelings come to your mind.”

The conciliatory tone he adopted was not unnoticeable. Then, bringing the conversation to a close, he advised his friend that the feeling of emptiness should be categorically buried. Finally, he greeted Flávio and said goodbye.

Jürgen Habermas turns his attention to the newest student sitting in the corner of the room, who by that point was astonished. Then he nods and says to him tenderly: “This one who has just left is an old friend, whom I greatly admire for his life and for all that he has produced.” His name: Karl-Otto Apel, a notable figure in the field of language theory, whom he had known since his student years in Bonn.

According to Flávio, Jürgen Habermas did not feel comfortable having been indoctrinated as a young man to act in accordance with the principles of National Socialism. In his view, the well-known “Theory of Communicative Action”, developed by the Master, in addition to overcoming the condition imposed by the cleft lip, also referred, in a veiled way, to the elaboration of a past in which he was not given the possibility of speaking out.

A disciple of Theodor Adorno, Jürgen Habermas was about to become the mentor of Flávio who, in turn, had then become my Master's advisor. As in a healthy daydream, it was not difficult to think that this brought me closer to Theodor Adorno, in a so to speak imaginary symbolic succession.

A memorable fact has no limits… In a kind of presentification of the past moment, I remember it as if it were today… In the words of old Teddie (as Theodor Adorno himself called himself), “memories are the only property that no one can take away from us […] memories cannot be kept in drawers and on shelves; in them, the past is inextricably intertwined with the present”.

That's how it was... In 2011, exactly 14 years ago. Part of the living history of the Second World War, as well as the biography of two distinguished thinkers who inherited the Frankfurt School, was told to me, in detail, in one sitting. Between tasting a mug of pilsner beer and a bite of authentic German bread.

*Lucyane de Moraes She has a doctorate in philosophy from the Federal University of Minas Gerais. Author of the book Theodor Adorno & Walter Benjamin: around an elective friendship (Editions 70/Almedina Brazil) [https://amzn.to/47a2xx7]

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