In 1926: living at the edge of time - Monoskop

ENGINEERS 95
more seriously than technology ... It is known that the trivialization of
love and sex is part of the Communist credo" (82, December 30). Despite
Benjamin's anguished ambivalence, he writes Einbahnstraf5e in the
stylistic and intellectual guise of an engineer. Headings like "Filling Station,"
"Standard Clock" [see Timepieces], "Construction Site," "U nderground
Works," "Interior Decoration," and "Fire Alarm" emphasize
this intention, and Benjamin's very first reflection can even be read as a
definition of the engineer's mind: "At the moment, the construction of
life depends much more on facts than on convictions-on facts that
never contribute to the shaping of convictions. Under these conditions,
true literary activity cannot attempt to play itself out in a merely literary
framework; such frameworks are more often the expression of sterility.
Meaningful literary effectiveness can come only through an ongoing
oscillation between actions and words; it must develop inconspicuous
forms such as pamphlets, brochures, newspaper articles, and posters,
rather than the ponderous universal gesture of the book. Only this
language of immediacy is truly up to the tasks of the moment" (85). The
engineer relies on "facts," not on vague "convictions." He wants to be
efficient, rather than inspiring. Envisioning his goals within "active society,"
he carefully chooses specific instruments and "gestures." From the
point of view of the engineer's social efficiency, both acts of analysis and
acts of maintenance become functionally equivalent to acts of invention.
He thus no longer does homage to the individualistic cult of creativity
(Gumbrecht, "Fichier"). Whatever the engineer invents or analyzes-an
engine or a modification in human behavior, a house or an entire society-presents
itself as a technical system. Ultimately, the engineer conceives
of himself as part of the technical systems which he builds and in
which his work is coupled both to engines and to workers. [see Assembly
Lines, Elevators]
The self-image of the American sailor in B. Traven's novel Das Totenschiff
(The Death Ship) presupposes this very world view: "I was a
simple deckhand. You see, sir, sailors hardly exist anymore-there's no
longer any need for them. A modern freighter isn't a real ship. It's a
waterborne machine. And you'd never believe that a machine needs
sailors to care for it, even if you understood nothing of ships. This
machine needs engineers" (Traven, 7). But while the engineer may shock
conservative minds by defining himself as part of an engine and by thus