This article by Michael Lowy was first published in his book Morning Star: surrealism, marxism, anarchism, situationism, utopia and is reproduced here by kind permission of the author.
What is romanticism?
Most Romanticism scholarship is based on the apparently obvious assumption that we are dealing with a literary movement of the early XIXth century. This assumption is doubly wrong : Romanticism is much more than a literary phenomenon – although of course it has an important literary component – and it did not come to an end either in 1830 or in 1848. Romanticism, as a cultural protest against modern industrial/capitalist civilisation, is one of the main forms of modern culture, and it extends from Rousseau – to mention the name of a Founding Father – to the present.
Most literary studies ignore the other dimensions of Romanticism, its political forms in particular. In a perfectly complementary fashion—and following the narrow logic of academic disciplines—political scientists often have an equally regrettable tendency to neglect the properly literary aspects of Romanticism. How do they approach the movement’s political diversity? Specialists of political Romanticism such as the German scholar Fritz Stern or the French historian Jacques Droz often sidestep the difficulty by focusing exclusively on its conservative, reactionary, and counter-revolutionary aspect while simply ignoring the revolutionary Romantic authors, such as Rousseau, William Blake or Hölderlin.
A certain number of Marxist thinkers have a different approach. They see the common axis, the unifying element of the Romantic movement , in its opposition to the modern bourgeois world. This hypothesis is by far the most interesting and productive. However, the bulk of the research inspired by Marxism suffers from a serious disadvantage. Like many of the non-Marxist writings mentioned above, Marxist analysts often perceive in Romanticism’s anti-bourgeois critique only its reactionary, conservative, retrograde aspects. This applies to Karl Mannheim and Georg Lukacs, and their numerous followers. Ernst Fischer and Raymond Williams are among the few exceptions.
One could tentatively define Romanticism as a form of sensibility irrigating all fields of culture, a worldview which extends from the second half of the 18th Century up to today, a comet whose incandescent “core” is the revolt against modern industrial/capitalist civilization, in the name of certain social or cultural values of the past. Nostalgic for a lost paradise—real or imaginary—romanticism opposes itself, with the melancholic energy of despair, to the quantifying mind of the bourgeois universe, to commercial reification, the platitude of utilitarianism, and above all, to the disenchantment of the world.
While many Romantics want to restore the past, in a regressive or reactionary way, revolutionary Romanticism projects the nostalgia into a utopian future. Sharing the modern revolutionary values – liberty, equality, fraternity – it dreams of a new world were some of the lost qualities of the pre-capitalist communities could be retrieved.
What is surrealism ?
Like Romanticism, Surrealism has often been reduced to a literary school or group of artists, devoid of any political dimension. A striking example is the recent exhibition of surrealist paintings in Paris (2002), at the Modern Art Museum (Centre Beaubourg), under the heading “Surrealist Revolution”. The attendance of hundreds of thousands of people at the exhibition illustrates the public interest in Surrealism today; but the exhibition, and the prospectus distributed, free of charge, to the visitors, studiously avoided any mention of the revolutionary political commitment of the Surrealists. In response, some people – linked to the present Surrealist Group in Paris – decided to play a practical joke : they substituted an unofficial version, printed in the same format and characters, for the official prospectus, stating, among other things : surrealism is not an aesthetic enterprise, but “a revolutionary movement, whose desire for freedom and subversive imagination aims at overthrowing capitalist domination.” Consequence : the organizers – or some of them – felt they had to take away the first prospectus, and replaced it by a new version, which acknowledges the emancipatory and revolutionary meaning of surrealism…
Too often, surrealism has been reduced, by scholars and specialists, to its paintings, sculptures or poetry compilations. Of course, it does include all these manifestations, but in the final analysis, it is, above all, and foremost, a certain state of mind. A state of insubordination, negativity, revolt, that draws its positive erotic and poetic strength from the depths of the unconscious, the abyss of desire, the magic well of imagination. This state of mind is present not only in the “works” that inhabit museums and libraries – but just as much in games, attitudes and behaviours.
Surrealism could be tentatively defined as a movement of revolt of the spirit and an eminently subversive attempt to re-enchant the world. That is, to re-establish, at the heart of human life, the “enchanted” dimensions , erased by bourgeois civilisation: poetry, passion, mad love, imagination, magic, myth, the marvellous, dreams, revolt, utopia. Or, in other terms, a protest against the narrow-minded rationality, the mercantile spirit, the petty logic, and the dull realism of capitalist, industrial society, and the utopian and revolutionary aspiration to “change life”. As Walter Benjamin wrote, in his fascinating essay from 1929 on Surrealism, “Since Bakunin, Europe lacked a radical concept of liberty. The surrealists have it”.
Surrealism and Romanticism
Of all the cultural movements of the 20th Century, Surrealism is probably the one which embodied, in the most radical fashion, the revolutionary dimension of romanticism. The revolt of the mind and the social revolution, change life (Rimbaud) and transform the world (Marx): these are the two polar stars which have oriented the movement since its beginnings, driving it in the permanent search for subversive cultural and political practices. At the cost of multiple secessions and defections, the core of the Surrealist group, around André Breton and Benjamin Péret, has never abandoned its intransigent refusal of the established social, moral and political order—nor its jealously-guarded autonomy, despite affiliation or sympathy with different currents of the revolutionary left. This started with Communism – Breton’s entry into the PCF in 1927 – was followed by Trotskyism – Breton’s visit to Trotsky in Mexico and the collective drafting of the call “For An Independent Revolutionary Art” (1938) – and Anarchism: the collaboration of the Surrealists, from 1951 to 1953, on the journal The Libertarian, organ of Georges Fontenis’ Anarchist Federation. In 1961, the Surrealists were among the initiators of the well known “Manifesto of the 121” against the Algerian war, calling for the right of disobediance. And the present Surrealist Group in Paris has been active in the opposition to the two Gulf Wars, or in support of revolutionary movements such as the Zapatista uprising in Chiapas.
The Surrealist Movement’s opposition to modern capitalist civilization is neither reasonable nor moderate: it is radical, categorical, irreducible. In one of their first documents, “Revolution First and Always” (1925), the founders of Surrealism proclaim:
Everywhere that Western civilization rules, all human connection has ceased, with the exception of anything motivated by economic interest, ‘payment in cold, hard cash.’ For more than a century, human dignity has been reduced to the level of an exchange-value…We do not accept the laws of Economy and Exchange, we do not accept enslavement to Work…
Much later, remembering the very beginnings of the movement, Breton observed,
At that time, the Surrealist refusal was total, absolutely unable to let itself be channeled into the political arena. Every institution on which rested the modern world, and which came to its logical outcome in the First World War, was scandalous and aberrant in our eyes.
That visceral rejection of social and institutional modernity did not stop the Surrealists from referring to cultural modernity—that which derived from Baudelaire and Rimbaud.
The favorite targets of the Surrealist attack on Western civilization were abstract and narrow-minded rationalism, realist conventions, and positivism in all its forms. In the First Surrealist Manifesto (1924), Breton denounced the attitude which is shown in the banishment, “under the guise of civilization, under the pretext of progress,” of anything that hints at the chimerical; faced with that sterile cultural horizon, he affirmed his belief in the omnipotence of dream. The search for an alternative to this civilization would remain present throughout the full history of Surrealism—including the 1970s, when a group of French and Czech Surrealists published (under the direction of Vincent Bounoure) La Civilisation surréaliste (Paris, Payot, 1976).
Breton and his friends had never hidden their profound attachment to the romantic tradition of the 19th Century—whether German (Novalis, Arnim), English (Gothic novels) or French (Hugo, Pétrus Borel). What does romanticism mean for the Surrealists? To them nothing is more detestable than the petty academic approach which made it a “literary genre.” Here is how Breton put it in his conference in Haiti on “The Concept of Liberty of the Romantics” (1945):
The image of Romanticism imposed upon us by scholars is a falsified image. The use of national categories and absurd pigeonholes which only separate literary genres serves to prevent the consideration of the Romantic movement as a whole.
In fact, romanticism is a worldview —in the sense of a Weltanschauung—which cuts across nations and eras:
It must be observed that Romanticism, as a specific state of mind and mood whose function is to everywhere instill a new general conception of the world, transcends those fashions—very limited—of feeling and speaking which were proposed after it (…). Through the swath of works produced by or deriving from it, notably through Symbolism and Expressionism, Romanticism imposes itself as a continuum.
Surrealism even places itself within this long temporal continuity of Romanticism as “state of mind.” Critiquing the pompous official celebrations of the centennial of French Romanticism in 1930, Breton comments in the Second Surrealist Manifesto:
We say that this Romanticism, of which today we are willing to conceive ourselves as the tail—but a very prehensile tail—by its very essence, even in 1930, remains uncompromising in its negation of these bureaucrats and their festivals; its century of existence is only its youth, which has been wrongly called its heroic epoch, and can only honestly be taken for the first cry of a being just beginning to make its desire known through us.
One cannot imagine, in the 20th Century, a more categorical proclamation of the topicality of Romanticism.
Nothing would be more false than the conclusion, from that explicit allegiance, that the romanticism of the Surrealists is the same as that of the poets or thinkers of the 19th Century. It forms, by its methods, its artistic or political choices, its outward behavior, something radically new, which fully belongs to the culture of the 20th Century, in all its dimensions, and which cannot be considered a simple re-edition, or even worse, an imitation of the first Romanticism.
Of course, the Surrealist reading of the romantic heritage of the past is highly selective. What attracts them to the “gigantic façades of Hugo,” to certain texts of Musset, of Aloysius Bertrand, Xavier Forneret, and Nerval is, as Breton writes in The marvelous against the mystery (Le merveilleux contre le mystère), the “will to the total emancipation of man.” It is also, in “a good number of Romantic or post-Romantic writers”—like Borel, Flaubert, Baudelaire, Daumier or Courbet—the “completely spontaneous hatred of the bourgeois type,” the “will to absolute non-compliance with the ruling class,” whose domination is a sort of leper against which – if one would prevent the most precious human acquisitions from being stripped of their meaning and contributing only to the daily-worsening debasement of the human condition – it is no longer enough to brandish the whip, but one day we must apply the branding iron.
The same is true for the German Romantics. Breton did not ignore the “fairly confused but ultra-reactionary doctrine” espoused by Novalis in his essay Europe, or the Christian (1799), or the hostile position taken by Achim d’Arnim against the French Revolution. But that did not prevent their works, veritable lightning stones (pierres de foudre), from shaking the foundations of the bourgeois cultural order, through their questioning of the separation between real and imaginary. Their thinking thus took on a profoundly utopian/subversive dimension, as for example when Novalis, in his philosophical fragments, “reclaimed as his own what was the magical postulate par excellence (…) : ‘It depends upon us that the world must conform to our will.’”
Magic and primitive arts
The Surrealist passion for pre-Modern cultural forms and traditions would also be selective: Unhesitatingly, the Surrealists would draw from alchemy, the Kabbala, magic, astrology, primitive art from Oceania or America, and Celtic art. All their activities on this terrain are aimed at exceeding the limitations of “art”—as separate, institutionalized, ornamental activity—to enter the limitless adventure of the re-enchantment of the world. Nevertheless, as revolutionaries inspired by the spirit of the Enlightenment, of Hegel and above all of Marx, the early Surrealists were the most resolute and uncompromising enemies of the values at the core of romantic-reactionary culture: religion and nationalism. As the Second Manifesto states: “Everything must be done, every method must be available to destroy the notions of family, nation, religion.” At the gates of the lost Surrealist paradise can be found, in flaming letters, that well-known libertarian inscription: Neither God nor Master!
Let’s examine two examples of this Surrealist re-interpretation of “archaic” or pre-capitalist elements: magic and primitive arts.
André Breton, in L’art magique, defined magic as “the whole of human operations having as their goal the imperious domination of the forces of nature through the use of secret practices of a more or less irrational character.” It “implies protest, even revolt”; pride too, in its assumption that man “controls” (disposes of) the forces of nature. Religion, in contrast, is the domain of resignation, begging and penitence: “Its humility is total, because it leads (man) to pray for his very unhappiness to the power which has refused to answer.”
The sacred, in its religious, hierocratic, clerical, institutional forms, can only inspire, as a system of authoritarian prohibitions, an irrepressible desire for transgression, profanation and de-sacralization on the part of the Surrealists, through irony, scorn or black humor. Sacrilege or blasphemy are the highest forms of politeness when faced with holy monsters.
Breton borrowed the concept of magical art from Novalis. It was that “very great romantic spirit” who chose those words to describe the art form he hoped to promote, both rooted in the past and shot through with a “strong tension toward the future” :
In the sense in which he (Novalis) understood them, one could expect to find not only the quintessential product of a millennium of experience, but also its supersession owing to its conjunction into a being of the most brilliant lights of the mind and heart. 
For Breton, all art originated in magic; he proposed the designation of specifically magical art for that which “re-engenders to some degree the magic which engendered it.” What did the ancient magician and the modern Surrealist artist have in common? In his inquiry into magical art, Breton declared that they “both speculate on the possibilities and the methods of enchanting the universe”
First of all, magic had been condemned, persecuted—the witch hunts!—and banished by institutional religion, which had in its place imposed the holy, the sanctified, the venerable as separate and inviolable realms. It had been subsequently effaced by capitalist/industrialist civilization, which rejected or systematically destroyed whatever was not calculable, quantifiable or capable of being transformed into merchandise. The enterprise of the total disenchantment of the world which, according to Max Weber, characterizes bourgeois modernity, has driven from human life not just magic, but everything that might escape the rigid and narrow-minded confines of instrumental rationality.
If magic attracts the attention of the Surrealists with an irresistible strength, it’s not because they want to control the forces of nature through ritual acts. What interests them in so-called “primitive” magical practices—as with alchemy and other hermetic arts—is the immense poetic charge borne by these activities. That charge—in the explosive sense of the word—helps them to sap the established cultural order and its shallow positivist conformity. Different forms of magic give off sparks which can ignite the fuse and thus aid Surrealism in its eminently subversive enterprise of the poetic re-enchantment of the world.
The same is true, mutatis mutandis, of primitive art. The attraction of “primitive” or “savage” cultures is a recurring theme in romanticism, where it can inspire, as for Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the revolutionary critique of modern civilization. Marx and Engels did not hide their admiration for the egalitarian, democratic way of life of those still living at the stage of “primitive communism,” like the indigenous peoples of North America. Engels was greatly inspired, in The Origins of Family, State and Private Property (1884), by the work of the American anthropologist Lewis Morgan, whose writings celebrated the free and interdependent universe of primitive folk, represented by the Iroquois Confederacy. Here is a passage from Morgan’s work, cited by Engels, and in turn cited—in reference to the two preceding authors—by Breton in his presentation on romanticism in Haiti (1945):
Since the beginning of civilization, the accumulation of wealth has become so enormous, its forms so diverse, its application so extensive and its administration so skillful in the interests of the property-owners, that this wealth has become, in the eyes of the people, a force impossible to master(…). Democracy in its administration, fraternity in society, the equality of rights, and universal education will inaugurate the next, superior stage of society (…). This will be a revival—but in a superior form—of the liberty, equality and fraternity of the ancient gentes.
Still, the early Surrealist interest in primitive civilizations was not limited to their ways of life, but was also, and more, focused on the spiritual quality of their artistic works. Oceanic art represents, according to André Breton—in his famous 1948 article “Oceania”—“the best-ever effort to understand the interpenetration of the physical and the mental, to triumph over the dualism of their perception and representation.” He goes so far as to suggest that the Surrealist path, at its beginning—that is, throughout the 1920s—“is inseparable from the seduction, the fascination” exercised by the works of the indigenous peoples of the Americas, the North Pole, or New Ireland. Why such a strong attraction? Here is the explanation proposed by Breton in the same text:
The marvelous, with all its assumptions of surprise, luck, the fulgurant vista of something other than what we can fully grasp, has never, in plastic art, known the triumphs which it is afforded by such high-quality Oceanic objects.
The extraordinary charge of subjectivity in primitive arts also seduces the Surrealists. Here’s what Vincent Bounoure—Surrealist and expert in primitive arts—has written regarding the surprising flash, the “piercing rays,” of the eyes of Oceanic figures:
The power of subjectivity (the mana of old-fashioned ethnological vocabulary) expressed by the gaze : there is no reality to which Oceania had been more sensitive. Such an incitement was completely lacking in Greece – Hegel ceaselessly reproaches (Greece) for its marble eyes, the vacant stare of its gods. It’s quite remarkable that the expression of the gaze had suggested to the Oceanic peoples the use of methods foreign to the art of sculpture, powerless by itself—always according to Hegel—to express the interior light. Oceania had innumerable materials at its disposal to intensify that strength. Inserted in the orbit of the eye, cowries, seeds and berries, pearls and shell each in turn animate the Oceanic subjectivity.
Explosive charge : Haïti 1946
For those inclined to doubt the intrinsically revolutionary nature of Surrealist romanticism, a particularly striking example illustrates the explosive charge of the message transmitted by Breton and his friends, and its capacity, in favorable circumstances, to raise the insurrectionist spirit. We must again turn to André Breton’s discourse, in Haiti, during his stay there in 1945-46.
First, the (little-known) facts of that episode: Breton’s conference (December 1945) on Surrealism in Port-au-Prince—which included the ardent formula, “We hold the liberation of man as the condition sine qua non of the liberation of the mind (spirit) ”—had raised a passionate interest among Haitian students and youth. In January 1946 they published a special issue of their review La Ruche—founded by the poets René Depestre, Jacques Stéphane Alexis and Gérard Bloncourt—dedicated to Surrealism, which included the text of Breton’s speech. The publication was outlawed on the orders of President Elie Lescot—a puppet of the USA—who arrested certain of its editors, provoking a student strike which became, in the insurrectionist climate of Haiti at that time, a general strike, overthrowing the president. Commenting on these events, several observers, among them René Depestre, have corroborated the role of Breton’s conference, which had acted as a kind of spark on the powderkeg.
Certainly, the revolutionary ambition of the Surrealists—like that of certain Romantics—is greater and more vast than just the transformation of social or political structures. But it nevertheless includes the insurrectionist action, the act of breaking chains, as an essential moment of the emancipatory hope.
 La Révolution Surréaliste, No. 5, 1925. The text was signed by a large number of artists and intellectuals of the group, including Breton, Aragon, Eluard, Leiris, Crevel, Desnos, Péret, Soupault, Queneau, etc.
 André Breton, “La Claire Tour” (1951), in La Clé des champs, Paris 10/18 and J.J. Pauvert, 1967, p. 42.
 As Marie Dominique Massoni, editor of the journal SURR (Surréalisme, Utopie, Rêve et Révolte), published in Paris since the 1990s, has stated quite well, the Surrealists share with the Romantics “the refusal to see the world as existing only on a logical, mathematical, useful, verifiable, quantifiable basis—in sum, a bourgeois basis.” M.D. Massoni, “Surrealism and Romanticism,” in Max Blechmann, Revolutionary Romanticism, San Francisco, City Lights, 1999, p. 194.
 André Breton, Manifestos of Surrealism, Paris, Gallimard, 1967, p. 19, 37.
 André Breton, “Evolution of the Concept of Liberty Through Romanticism,” 1945, Conjonction: Surréalisme et révolte en Haïti, No. 194, June 1992, p. 82.
 André Breton, “Perspective Cavalière,” 1963, Perspective Cavalière, Paris, Gallimard, 1970, p.227.
 Breton, Manifestos of Surrealism, p. 110.
 André Breton, “Le merveilleux contre le mystère” (1936) in La Clé des champs, op. cit. p. 10 and “Position Politique de l’art” (1935), in Position politique du Surréalisme, Paris, Denoel-Gonthier, 1972, p. 25-26. There is an interesting analysis of the relationship between the Surrealists and German Romanticism in the recent book of K.H. Bohrer, Die Kritik der Romantik, Frankfurt, Suhrkamp Verlag, 1989, p. 48-61. On the link between Surrealism, Romanticism and the student revolts of the 1960s, see R. Faber’s essay, “Frühromantik, Surrealismus und Studentenrevolte, Oder die Frage nach dem Anarchismus,” in Romantische Utopie, Utopische Romantik (ed. R. Faber), Hildesheim, Gerstenberg, 1979, pp. 336-358.
 André Breton, “Introduction” (1933) to Achim d’Arnim, Contes Bizarres, Paris, Julliard, 1964, p. 18, 20, 21. Se also Tristan Tzara, in his essay « Le surrealisme dans l’après-guerre » : « Romanticism is essentially revolutionary, not only because it celebrates the ideas of liberty, but also because it proposes a new way of living and feeling, according to its dramatic vision of the world, made of contrasts, notalgias, anticipations ». (In Tristan Tzara, Oeuvres Complètes, tome V, Henri Béhar, ed., Paris:
Flammarion, 1982, p. 62.)
 André Breton, “Sur l’art magique,” 1957, Perspective Cavalière, p. 142.
 As Marie Dominique Massoni observes, “the power of desire and the marvelous inclines them (the Surrealists) toward hermeticism, as with the Romantics before them. From Enter the Mediums to the canvases of Camacho or Stejskal the Surrealists follow close behind the alchemist Eugène Canseliet and the esoteric tradition, divested of its occultist hodgepodge, very often in honor of the Romantics. Breton had inscribed on his tomb: ‘I seek the gold of time.’ The reference to Romanticism as well as to alchemy is obvious there.” Revolutionary Romanticism, p. 197.
 In the same spirit, I have examined the place of myth in Surrealism, in my book (with Robert Sayre), Romanticism against the tide of Modernity, Duke, Duke University Press, 2000.
 André Breton, L’Art magique, Ed. Phébus, 1991, p. 27.
 Breton, “Sur l’art magique,” Perspective Cavaliére, p.140.
 Ibid, pp. 27, 261.
 Breton, “Evolution du concept de liberté à travers le romantisme,” Conjonctions p. 90. For a remarkable analysis of Marx’s Ethnological Notes and his interest in Lewis Morgan, see North-American Surrealist Franklin Rosemont’s essay, “Karl Marx and the Iroquois,” Arsenal, Chicago, Black Swan Press, 1989.
 André Breton, “Oceania,” 1948, La Clé des champs, pp. 278-280.
 Vincent Bounoure, Le Surréalisme et l’arts sauvages, Paris, L’Harmattan, 2001, p. 204. Here is how Bounoure, the principal instigator of the pursuit of the Surrealist adventure in Paris after 1969, explains the Surrealist’s fascination for Oceanic art: “The systematic recourse, with which the Surrealists pursue their program, to the mental functions which had been choked off bit by bit through the course of several thousand years of pretended civilization, their refusal of that dismemberment and that mutilation, cause them to impatiently listen for the secrets which seem to them to have been preserved by the Oceanic peoples, and which their formal creations leave transparent.” Ibid, p. 285.
 René Depestre, “André Breton in Port-au-Prince,” in Michael Richardson (ed.) Refusal of the Shadow: Surrealism and the Carribean, London, Verso, 1996, p. 232. The joy was short-lived: after a few days of freedom, the Lescot regime had been replaced by a military junta, which expelled André Breton from Haiti…