“Such a book, such a problem has no hurry: on
this question we are both friends of lento, myself as well as my book.”
So wrote Nietzsche in the preface to Dawn.
Lento, of course, is the opposite of the speed at
which, supposedly, both Fama and the mass media moves. In fact, Nietzsche was
dead when his books – especially Thus spoke Zarathustra – began to move at a
much faster speed. A sort of legend claims that 150,000 copies of Zarathustra
were produced for a special field edition in World War I, thus introducing a
generation of German soldiers to Nietzsche as a German thinker next to Goethe
and Luther – Goethe’s Faust and Luther’s Bible being the other books put out by
this soldier’s press. A Nietzsche scholar, Richard Krummel, has recently
suggested that this legend was based on some misunderstood remarks in certain
memoirs of the war.
Nietzsche, of course, took Fama’s course and spoke, in his books, in many voices and
tempos. He spoke in presto as well, showing a marked preference for
images of lightning strokes and dynamite, and for “arrows” – aphorisms that
were launched at great speed. Lento is definitely related to Nietzsche’s
fascination with “great events”, events that unfold over thousands of years –
as he supposed the uprising of slave morality had unfolded. However, there is a
sense in which presto and lento
are not, in fact, opposites, but express two aspects of that characteristic
of modernity – the simultaneity impressed upon modern societies by mass media.
The mass medias may have interpreted themselves from the beginning in terms of
acceleration. And yet they have also interpreted themselves from the beginning
in the rhetoric of what Marx called the “middle class prophets” – those who
prophesize that the world market and global capitalism are the end of history.
“The observation that free competition=the last form of the development of the
forces of production and thus of human freedom means nothing more than that the
domination of the middle class is the end of world history – clearly a pleasant
thought for the parvenus of the day before yesterday.” [Grundrisse]
It is hard, maybe
impossible, to date a tempo. But one can make an at least symbolic case that
modernist presto began on November 29, 1814, when the Times of London
installed a Koenig press, which harnessed steam power to the old manually
driven iron printing press and could print 1,100 one sided sheets per hour.
John Walter unveiled the press with typical capitalist panache by firing his
crew of manual pressman, telling them that “if they were peaceable, their wages
should be continued until similar employment should be procured.” (The North
American miscellany, 1851).
The faster machines made
the newspaper, like the railroad, one of the avatars of the industrial
experience. Being able to produce more newspapers meant extending the circle of
newspaper sales; it meant changing the ‘turnover’ time of the newspaper, which
could not only come out daily, but could compete over different segments of the
day – as morning, afternoon and evening papers appeared. And the change in
turnover time meant that news would have to be produced. The new would now be
on the assembly line.
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