By MARTIN JAY*

Was the era of liberal capitalism just an interlude between two eras in which the impersonal mediation of the market was unnecessary to guarantee subordination and obedience?

“The Frankfurt School knew Trump was coming” announced an essay by Alex Ross in The New Yorker on December 5, 2016. Indeed, much has been said recently about the prescience of the Frankfurt School in anticipating the rise of populist nationalism in general and Donald Trump in particular. In general, the focus has been on his criticisms of the cultural industry, the authoritarian personality, the techniques of right-wing agitators and anti-Semitism.

Another aspect of his legacy, however, has been largely ignored; it supplements the insights of the Frankfurt School on the psychological and cultural origins of the problem and deepens the analyzes of the agitator's demagogic techniques. I am referring here to their often overlooked analysis of what they called the "society of rackets” to explain the unexpected rise of fascism.

Its current relevance can be fully recognized if we take a detour through Martin Scorsese's celebrated 2019 film, The Irish, which chronicles the career of mob gunman Frank Sheeran, one of the most notable victims of – or at least he claimed so to his biographer Charles Brandt, in I Heard You Paint Houses – was the president of the National Union of Truck Drivers [Teamsters Union], Jimmy Hoffa.

Whether or not the film convincingly resolves the mystery of Hoffa's 1975 disappearance, what matters is that it succeeds brilliantly in painting a vivid picture of a violent, amoral world in which power relations are transactional and the threat of betrayal hangs over even the friendships that seem to be the most loyal. It is a world only intermittently bound by legal boundaries and indifferent to pleas for pity, the absence of which is underscored by the carefully marginalized roles it assigns to women. Despite the appearance of a priest who welcomes Sheeran's confession towards the end of his life and suggests that he may somehow muster the willpower to achieve a repentance he is incapable of feeling, religion offers no way out of the problem. earthly hell in which he is living.

The Irish may seem little more than an elegiac reflection on the rich genre of mafia epics that gave us three versions of The Godfather, the seven seasons of The Sopranos and many other earlier classics by Scorsese himself. But as is evident in the clumsy device of attributing Sheeran's fluency in Italian to his military service in World War II – as if American soldiers had time to read Dante on the beaches of Salerno – the film doesn't really immerse us in the culture. from the mafia. Not being an Italian, Sheeran cannot become a full member of the mob and Hoffa's German and Irish ancestry also makes him ineligible for entry into any "family". Although the actors who portray them so vividly, Robert De Niro and Al Pacino, inevitably invite us into the universe created by Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola, the territory of history they inhabit is far beyond any ethnically circumscribed medium.

what makes of The Irish Such a strong representation of that society is its insistence on showing that Mafia practices and customs permeate many other institutions. They appear most obviously in the trade union movement, where International Brotherhood of Truckers, whose sizable pension fund serves as a piggy bank for loans to gangsters, becomes even more corrupt when Hoffa – jailed for jury-rigging, attempted bribery and fraud – is replaced by Frank Fitzsimmons.

It also appears in the court system, where judges can be bought, juries can be manipulated, and lawyers are free to use whatever tricks they have up their sleeves to defeat justice. And, even more shockingly, they permeate the world of politics as well, where John Kennedy is elected over illegal vote rigging in Illinois, the Bay of Pigs is invaded to bring casino owners back to Havana, Hoffa is freed. Nixon's probation for a campaign contribution, and possibly, just possibly, Lee Harvey Oswald is hired as a mob hitman. Such is the immersion of politics in the society of rackets that gangsters are in awe when Bobby Kennedy has the audacity to break the rules and go after Hoffa.

As conjectural as these claims may be, The Irish can tell us more about our own world than it does about Sheeran and Hoffa's, a world that, abominably, is becoming like what the Frankfurt School called "the society of rackets".

First introduced when Max Horkheimer and his colleagues at the Institute for Social Research were in American exile, the concept sought to explain the Nazi regime that had driven them away from Germany. The results were actually conflicting, as plans for a large-scale study yielded only unfinished essays and scattered traces of their arguments in subsequent studies. But recent events have revived interest in collecting what remains of the unfinished torso that remains.

In the America to which Horkheimer and his colleagues fled in 1934, the words "rackets"and "racketeering” were coined to indicate the growing prominence of “organized” or “syndicated” crime. Surviving the end of Prohibition, it thrived in illegal ventures such as prostitution, drug dealing, parallel lotteries and gambling, and spread easily into other forms of corruption, including politics.

But, asked the Frankfurt School, what if an entire society had been corrupted by the model of rackets, turning to bonds based on personal loyalty, forged through protection against the threats of an increasingly harsh world? What if universal moral norms and the abstract rule of law had been superseded by concrete, transactional patron-client relationships? And if the role of classes – both in terms of struggle between classes, how much solidarity in them – had been replaced by other hierarchical relations of domination beyond those generated by the economic mode of production? What if the era of bourgeois capitalism had just been an interlude between two epochs in which the impersonal mediation of the market was unnecessary to guarantee subordination and obedience?

It had been tempting for other German émigrés to see parallels between the rackets and the recent events they had escaped in Europe. Bertold Brecht's parable play, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, from 1941, satirized Hitler's rise to power through the fiction of a 1930s Chicago gang that controlled the cauliflower cartel. The subversively charming network of petty criminals Threepenny Opera it was largely superseded by a far more sinister enterprise. Never produced during his lifetime, the play was not, however, one of Brecht's successes. Indeed, Theodor W. Adorno would later criticize it for erasing the true horrors of fascism by making it an "accident, like a fatality or a crime" rather than the "product of the concentration of social power."

But despite their tense relationship with Brecht during their shared exile in Southern California, Adorno and his colleagues had also begun to ponder the broader implications of the rackets in the late 1930s. Although they were later criticized for an alleged “political deficit” for not having connected their radical theory with revolutionary praxis, at this point they embraced a darker version of the “primacy of the political” when explaining the domination in essentially non-economic terms. As Horkheimer asserted in “Rackets and spirit,” an unpublished 1942 memo: “The basic form of domination is the racket. […] The most general functional category exercised by the group is protection”.

His correspondence from the same year shows great expectations for a coordinated effort by the Institute to apply the model of rackets to different sectors of modern life, which would revive the Institute's initial interdisciplinary program. Horkheimer had come to believe that the centrality of the mode of production and the economically defined classes it gave rise to had characterized only the period of classical liberal capitalism. After him, earlier forms of more direct domination would have returned in a new guise. Prior to the rise of a more or less consolidated ruling class confronting an increasingly organized working class, whose interaction was mediated by market wage relations and the rule of formal law, there had been a profusion of competing associations, led by elites that they protected their subordinates in exchange for obedience. The threat of retaliation always hung over those who broke the hierarchy of what Adorno called “a ingroup closed, violent and rigidly led – a racket".

In “The End of Reason”, published in 1941, Horkheimer stated that “patrons, leaders, feudal lords and guilds have always protected and at the same time exploited their customers. Protection is the archetype of domination.” Now, in the post-liberal era, whether called monopoly capitalism or state capitalism, organizational trends would be restoring such direct and unmediated arrangements of power, in which any pretense to represent general interests or universal principles had been abandoned.

In his most extensive elaboration of the theory of rackets, an unpublished 1943 essay titled “On the Sociology of Class Relations” [“On the Sociology of Class Relations”], Horkheimer clearly delineates his explicit shift from classical Marxism: “The standard racket, which used to be typical of the behavior of the dominant towards the dominated, is now representative of all human relationships, even those within the working class. The difference between rackets of the capital and the racket of the work resides in the fact that in the racket capitalist the whole class benefits, while the racket of labor functions as a monopoly only for its leaders and the aristocracy of workers”.

Rather than focusing on the ambivalent psychological make-up of the working class or its ideological biases, as the Institute had done in a number of studies beginning in the Weimar era and continuing into exile, Horkheimer offered a structural analysis in which the proletariat, rather than opposing the capitalist ruling class, mimetically internalized its pattern of domination.

The return to the model of social organization of rackets it meant a concomitant weakening of the universalizing mediations that had obscured their functioning during the heyday of liberal capitalism. One such mediation was the impersonal market, based on an ideological faith in the possibility of fairly rewarding merit and diligence. As Institute policy theorist Otto Kirchheimer put it, “Racketeering connotes a society in which individuals have lost the belief that compensation for their individual efforts will result from the mere workings of impersonal market agencies”. By exposing the lie of equal opportunities and the fairness of market mechanisms, the return of the rackets can be admired, grudgingly, for pulling back the ideological veil of effective domination. But what he also undermined was the dialectical promise such ideologies always hold.

In “Rackets and the Spirit”, Horkheimer argued that “each racket conspires against the spirit and everyone acts for himself. Reconciliation between the general and the special is immanent in the spirit; O racket it is their irreconcilable contrast and their obfuscation in the ideas of unity and community”. Equally problematic was the explicit repudiation of the rule of law and the ideal of popular sovereignty, both ridiculed by the unrepentant particularistic self-interest of a protective solidarity. Thus, to quote Kirchheimer again, "it is the experience of an associative practice which implies that neither the individual's choice of an association nor the goals which the latter pursues are the result of conscious acts belonging to the sphere of human freedom" .

Traits of the model of the society of rackets remained in Horkheimer's post-war work, eclipse of reason, and in his joint work with Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment. They appeared in the Institute's analyzes of the techniques of demagogic agitators, most notably in Adorno's unpublished study of the psychological techniques of the fascist radio evangelist Martin Luther Thomas. But the substantive essays devoted to the issue remained sketches that were published only posthumously and the interdisciplinary project was never realized.

With the defeat of fascism and the survival of liberal democratic institutions, the sweeping claims of the theory, which postulated an epochal transition in human history, seemed exaggerated. The affinity of the model of the society of rackets with an analysis of late capitalism based on monopolies, most emphatically defended within the Institute by Franz Neumann, he made it an awkward and subordinate idea to Friedrich Pollock's alternative thesis about "state capitalism".

While the first thesis involved a more anarchic, or at least polycratic, dispute between the rackets of protection competing with each other, which could lead to chaos, the latter emphasized the triumph of a “command economy” that employed instrumental rationality to drive the system and appease its contradictions. While the full extent of Horkheimer's and Adorno's adherence to Pollock's argument has been disputed, it went on to inform their later notion of a 'managed world' as well as Marcuse's 'one-dimensional society'. Here the more impersonal forces of abstraction released by the capitalist exchange principle remained more potent than the personalized transactions of a racket of protection.

Another source of hesitation may well have been the perception that the mediating ideologies dispelled by the resurgence of rackets they still had a weak power to resist full implantation. In "Rackets and the spirit”, Horkheimer admitted that “in the true idea of ​​democracy, which leads a repressed and subterranean existence in the masses, the vestige of a society freed from the rackets it was never fully extinct.”

Reflecting, as an émigré in 1944, on the still valuable function of liberal democratic ideology, Adorno conceded that: “We owe our lives to the difference between the economic structure of late capitalism and its political façade. For theoretical critics, the discrepancy is insignificant: everywhere, the farcical character of supposed public opinion and the primacy of economics in real decisions can be demonstrated. For countless individuals, however, the thin, ephemeral veil is the basis of their entire existence.”

Furthermore, the power of ideologies of a less benign sort – in particular, the exterminationist anti-Semitism that fueled Nazism – to triumph over the purely transactional relationship between patron and client should also be taken into account.

Finally, there may also have been some hesitation around the crude characterization of organized labor as being entirely corrupted by rackets, mimetically duplicating in miniature the monopoly structure of capitalism as a whole. The idea, in fact, had been initially promoted by the leaders of the Big Business to discredit the labor movement, as, for example, in the book It's a Racket (1929), by Gordon L. Hostetter and Thomas Quinn Beesley.

In 1942, when the Institute could still see fascism in apocalyptic terms as a world-class threat, Horkheimer had written that "the historical course of the proletariat leads to a turning point: it can become a class or a racket. Racketeering means privileges within national borders, class means world revolution. O Leader removed the choice from the proletariat: they chose the racket”. But within the Institute the rigidity of this opposition was already beginning to raise doubts.

In a letter responding to a draft of Horkheimer's “On the sociology of class relations”, Marcuse warned in 1943: “you must be especially careful to avoid the impression that you take the 'transformation of class struggle into adaptation' as a fait accompli and like the whole story. […] The co-ordination of the working class as a whole with the apparatus of monopoly society has not been successful, not in this country, certainly not in Germany and France and probably not in Great Britain”.

When the dust settled after the war, the radical alternative suggested by Horkheimer, like the stark choice posed by Rosa Luxemburg during the previous world war “between socialism or barbarism”, seemed far-fetched. Although, as the subsequent example of the teamsters de Hoffa shows, unions can certainly be corrupted, it would have been unfair to consider them all as rackets in germ, a dangerous exaggeration that would play well in the hands of anti-union propagandists.

Hoffa brings us back to our initial question: to what extent does the swamp of lethal venality detailed in The Irish and anticipated by the theory of the “society of rackets” of the Frankfurt School is a vision of our own world? For those looking for parallels, perhaps the most explicit contemporary examples of a society of rackets be it the so-called “failed states”, in which warlords vie for spoils and power without respect for the law or general interests. Somalia, Libya, Afghanistan and Sudan are just the most obvious examples, but others approaching or recovering from bankruptcy can easily be adduced.

Some commentators have even applied the model of the “society of rackets” to cases like the Islamic State, even though its fundamentalist interpretation of Islam suggests that it is at least as motivated by a powerful mediating ideology as it is by a lust for power and the plunder of material assets. But in other cases, a toxic mix of paramilitary organizations, drug and weapons trafficking, hostage-taking and kidnapping, and systematic sexual assaults, combined with the personal enrichment of those in power, has unmistakable affinities with the model of rackets. The appeasing effects of mediating or universalizing ideologies are diminished and self-preservation depends on obedience to the most plausible protector. State sovereignty, popular or otherwise, is weakened to the point of virtual extinction, as legitimate authority is replaced by crude coercion and the monopoly on violence famously attributed to the modern state by Max Weber is undone.

Even when the strong sovereign state survives – as in the case of Putin's Russia – aspects of a society of the racket manifest themselves in the way the oligarchs and remnants of the old nomenklatura Soviet power turned a fragile democracy into a kleptocracy. Outside of politics, of course, there are many manifestations of a certain criminal attitude [racketeering] which, despite everything, still haunts the labor movement, and can be found, at least in spirit, in other institutions, from Big Pharma to international sports federations. And it has even infected the Catholic Church, whose ongoing pedophile scandal, along with recent imbroglios at the Vatican Bank, have given new meaning to "God's protection."

As the model of the “society of rackets” can help us understand our own current political situation? The United States remains, of course, far from being a failed state or a kleptocracy of oligarchs. And yet, there are enough danger alerts to be concerned. After all, in 2016, we elected a president who almost too perfectly fits the role of the protagonist of a mob narrative, allowing commentators to call him “a gangster in the White House”, as David Frum recently did in the The Atlantic.

Not only was he famous for running a series of fraudulent businesses and engaging in dubious real estate transactions prior to his election, but he continued to operate in the same way with relative impunity once in office (indeed, his inauguration committee was soon investigated for influence peddling). The list of Trump underlings linked to criminal scandals – Paul Manafort, Michael Cohen, Michael Flynn, Rick Gates, George Papadopoulos, Roger Stone – is impressive. Along the way, he even managed to favor a son-in-law, whose father was a convicted felon jailed for illegal campaign contributions, tax evasion and witness tampering.

Cohen's successor as Trump's personal attorney, Rudy Giuliani, hailed for his role as prosecutor in the 1985-86 Mafia Commission Trial, in which leaders of New York's "Five Families" were charged under the law RICH (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act of 1970), gained a very different kind of notoriety through its involvement with campaign finance law breakers Lev Parnas and Igor Fruman.

Trump's habitual choice for dubious friends and gangster conduct in personal matters is often echoed on the public stage. Intimidating witnesses, threatening “betrayal” whistleblowers with retaliation, demanding personal loyalty in lieu of adherence to the law by subordinates, and mocking the Constitution's Anti-Emoluments Clause are just a few of the more offensive examples. In foreign affairs, the doctrine of America First means that Trump treats longtime allies in a transactional way, converting NATO and our alliance with South Korea into rackets of protection, in which the payments have to increase so that the protection is guaranteed.

Their unbridled affinity for tyrants who rule countries with the same disregard for the rule of law and who enrich themselves along the way unequivocally and crystal-clearly reveals their values. And the inert acquiescence he extorted from the Republican Party, exemplified by the loyalty he enforces among politicians fearful of being challenged in primary fights, shows how successful protection can be in securing compliance. Kim Jong Un may be derided as the “little rocket man,” but Trump has no less abundantly earned the nickname “big rocket man.” racket”. Nancy Pelosi was therefore very to the point in her speech to the House before sending the articles of the request for impeachment to the Senate, when she paraphrased Trump's plea to the Ukrainian president with the infamous question of The Irish: “Do you paint houses, too?”.

Ironically, almost all of this was done in broad daylight, which may contradict the mysterious tone of typical organized crime conspiracies. Even when Trump's secret plots are revealed, as in his attempted extortion of Ukraine with the intent of smearing a political opponent, he has taken up his bad behavior defiantly and shamelessly.

Indeed, it's hard not to suspect that much of his appeal to those who doggedly support him may well come from that subversive glamor that gangsters have accumulated over the years in popular culture. The subject was treated for the first time already in 1928, in the silent film of Lewis Milestone, The Racket. From Edward G. Robinson's "Little Caesar" and James Cagney's "Public Enemy" to Marlon Brando's "Vito Corleone" and James Gandolfini's "Tony Soprano", we fall in love with powerful crooks who live according to their own laws. Conveniently, there is a Mafia Museum in – where else? – Los Angeles, which announces that “no trip is complete without a photo of souvenir as a suspect registered by the police”.

Trump, it is true, may seem more like a common con artist and an imposter than a violent assassin, although his order to assassinate Qasem Soleimani offers chilling proof that he can aspire to the second role as well. But like Frank Sheeran in The Irish, he knows how to make his audience, or at least his unshakable “base”, root for him, because of his brutish looks, his survival skills and his disdain for moral and cultural pieties. Moreover, for at least some of his male admirers, Trump's blatant sexism and contempt for strong women seems to elicit the same emotions that accompanied Cagney's infamous fruit thrown in Mae Clarke's face in Public Enemy.

The analysis of the “society of rackets” made by the Frankfurt School, it is true, faltered when it sought to explain the rise of fascism. Not only did she underestimate the strength of ideological motivations, she also ambitiously suggested that the page of an epoch in the history of global capitalism had been turned. His melodramatic characterization of the workers' movement as having to choose between world revolution or the corruption of the rackets it was offensively dismissive of other honorable alternatives, which allowed many workers to side with progressive, non-revolutionary politics while choosing non-mercenary leaders. Jimmy Hoffa, indeed, was in the future of the labor movement, but the future of the labor movement was not simply Jimmy Hoffa.

It would be no less simplistic to state that the model of the society of rackets does complete justice to our current situation. Many other long-term trends, as well as the flukes of unexpected events, have brought us to this fateful juncture. But by drawing attention to certain disturbing patterns in contemporary political culture, specifically, to the unmediated dialectic of domination and protection in many different social and cultural contexts, it does help to clarify why The Irish can be considered the most representative film of our times. And when we apprehend the mirror effect of rackets truth and his representation commonly romanticized by the entertainment industry, the theory allows us to better assess how a figure like Trump, who inhabits both worlds, benefited from this fatal interaction.

To conclude, perhaps just comparing The Irish another great film in the history of American cinema about gangsterism in the unions we can realize how far we have sunk. thieves syndicate, released in 1954, depicted the harrowing journey of a dissident who overcomes his mob involvement and family loyalties to challenge the violent boss who led Hoboken's longshoremen's union. With none of the ethnic undertones that make Scorsese's film seem like a late-afternoon mob fable, it takes a decided approach to union delinquency.

To be fair, the film was long haunted by the claim that it idolized a whistleblower to justify the snitching made by its director Elia Kazan and writer Budd Schulberg during the McCarthyist period. The conflicted reaction Kazan heard when he received a Lifetime Achievement Award at the 1999 Academy Awards – hosted, ironically, by Martin Scorsese and Robert de Niro – reveals that forgiveness took time and was by no means universal.

However one judges the film's apologetic subtext, on its own terms thieves syndicate vividly illustrates the society of rackets explored by the Frankfurt School. The conflict he presents is not between capital and labor, but rather within the workers' movement itself, in which domination is reproduced on a more confined scale, within a class. The film, however, presents a more hopeful vision of how a society can be successfully resisted. racket than The Irish.

Not only is there an explicit religious spokesman for moral conscience in the marginal figure of Karl Malden, as Father Barry, but the film gives a woman, Edie Doyle, the hero's girlfriend, played by Eva Marie Saint, a role active in the resistance against the mafia. And it is through what can only be called the selfless “passion” of former boxer Terry Malloy, unforgettably embodied by Marlon Brando, that a possible redemption shines through. As the film ends, the spell of brutal mobster Johnny Friendly, played by Lee J. Cobb, is broken, and the longshoremen challenge the racket of protection that had kept them dependent on him for so long.

That the simple fact that they return to work is the measure of their redemption, rather than challenging the broader capitalist context in which they remain embedded, may for some mark the limit of the film's critical ambitions. But compared to The Irish, in which Frank Sheeran lives to a comfortable old age, albeit alone with his memories and neglected by his daughter, is something to be celebrated.

Se The Irish paints a world closer to ours than thieves syndicate, it's because the brave Terry Malloys haven't yet appeared to destroy the inside racket of protection from our Johnny Friendly in the Oval Office. The charm is far from over for its dogged base, who seem to respect whistleblowers as little as Elia Kazan's pitiless critics did under very different circumstances a long time ago. Trump, who in so many ways seems sui generis, may actually be the precursor to even worse things to come.

We may not live in a society of rackets fully developed, but perhaps we are even closer to it than we were when a group of exiles from Nazi Germany were trying to understand the dark times in which they were immersed. For a long moment, they seemed to be on the wrong track, as they themselves concluded. But today, when a second term for an impeached but "acquitted" racketeer-in-chief seems like a clear possibility, we unfortunately cannot be so sure of that.

*Martin jay He is the Sidney Hellman Ehrman Professor of History at the University of California, Berkeley. Author among other books by The Dialectical Imagination: History of the Frankfurt School and the Institute for Social Research 1923-1950 (Counterpoint).

Transl. Anouch Kurkdjian

Originally published on Los Angeles Review of Books, in April 2020.

Notes

[1] Growing attention to its importance in Germany culminated in Thorsten Fuchshuber's book, Rackets: Kritische Theorie der Bandenherrschaft (Freiburg, 2019). For a recent discussion in English, see the symposium on Nonsite.org, 18 (January 2019), with contributions from James Schmidt, John Lysaker, Chris Cutrone, Nicholas Brown, and David Janemann.

[2] Theodor W. Adorno, “Commitment”. In: Notes to Literature, 2 vols., vol. 2, trans. Shierry Weber Nicholsen (New York, 1992) p. 83. See also “Extorted Reconciliation: On Georg Lukács' Realism in Our Time”. In: Notes to Literature, vol. 1, p. 222. [Brazilian edition: Literature Notes – Two cities/34]

[3] Max Horkheimer, “Die Rackets und der Geist,” In: Gesammelte Schriften, vol.12, Nachgelassene Schriften 1931–1949, ed. Gunzelin Schmid Noerr Frankfurt, 1985), p. 287–288.

[4] See his October 1, 1942 letter to Leo Lowenthal, in Max Horkheimer, Gesammelte Schriften, vol.17, Briefwechsel 1941–1948, ed. Gunzelin Schmid Noerr (Frankfurt, 1996), p. 342–343.

[5] Theodor W. Adorno, The Psychological Technique of Martin Luther Thomas' Radio Addresses (Stanford University Press, 2000), p. 68.

[6] Max Horkheimer, “The End of Reason.” In: The Essential Frankfurt School Reader, ed. Andrew Arato and Eike Gebhardt (New York, 1978), p. 35.

[7] Max Horkheimer, “Zur Soziologie der Klassenverhältnisse”. In: Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 12, p. 101–102.

[8] Erich Fromm, The Working Class in Weimar Germany: A Psychological and Sociological Study, ed. Wolfgang Bonss, trans., Barbara Weinberger (Leamington Spa, 1984); in the early 1940s, they analyzed anti-Semitism among American workers in an unpublished study. See Catherine Collomp, “'Anti-Semitism among American Labor': A Study by the Refugee Scholars of the Frankfurt School of Sociology at the End of World War II”. In: Labor History, 52, 4 (November, 2011), p. 417–439.

[9] Otto Kirchheimer, “In Quest of Sovereignty,” (1944) in Politics, Law and Social Change: Selected Essays of Otto Kirchheimer, eds. Frederic S. Burin and Kurt L. Schell (New York, 1969), p. 180.

[10] Horkheimer, “Die Rackets und der Geist", P. 290.

[11] Kirchheimer, “In Quest of Sovereignty", P. 180.

[12] Horkheimer, “Die Rackets und der Geist”. P. 291.

[13] Theodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life, trans. EFN Jephcott (London, 1974), p. 112-113.

[14] Max Horkheimer, “Geschichte der amerikanischen Arbeiterschaft” (1942). In: Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 12, p. 260

[15] Marcuse to Horkheimer, September, 1943 in Herbert Marcuse, Technology, War and Fascism, Collected Papers, vol. 1, ed. dougl