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in a desperate attempt to find coherence in the crisis. In the midst
of World War I Wittgenstein wrote: ‘‘How things stand, is God.
God is, how things stand. Only from the consciousness of the
uniqueness of my life arises religion—science—and art.’’ And further:
‘‘This consciousness is life itself. Can it be an ethics even if there
is no living being outside myself? Can there be any ethics if there
is no living being but myself? If ethics is supposed to be something
fundamental, there can. If I am right, then it is not sufficient for
the ethical judgment that a world be given. Then the world in
itself is neither good nor evil . . . Good and evil only enter through
the subject. And the subject is not part of the world, but a boundary
of the world.’’ Wittgenstein denounces the God of war and the
desert of things in which good and evil are now indistinguishable
by situating the world on the limit of tautological subjectivity:
‘‘Here one can see that solipsism coincides with pure realism, if it
is strictly thought out.’’
13
This limit, however, is creative. The
alternative is completely given when, and only when, subjectivity
is posed outside the world: ‘‘My propositions serve as elucidations
in the following way: anyone who understands me eventually recog-
nizes them as nonsensical, when he has used them—as steps—to
climb up beyond them. (He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder
after he has climbed up it.) He must transcend these propositions, and
then he will see the world aright.’’
14
Wittgenstein recognizes the
end of every possible dialectic and any meaning that resides in the
logic of the world and not in its marginal, subjective surpassing.
The tragic trajectory of this philosophical experience allows
us to grasp those elements that made the perception of the crisis
of modernity and the decline of the idea of Europe a (negative but
necessary) condition of the definition of the coming Empire. These
authors were voices crying out in the desert. Part of this generation
would be interned in extermination camps. Others would perpetu-
ate the crisis through an illusory faith in Soviet modernization.
Others still, a significant group of these authors, would flee to
America. They were indeed voices crying out in the desert, but
their rare and singular anticipations of life in the desert give us the