Olivier Mannoni Interview | Alexandre Gilbert #327

OM: Through the usual channels. As a translator, one is typically approached by publishers who offer texts they believe we are both capable of translating and likely to find engaging. In Sloterdijk’s case, if I recall correctly, it goes back a very long time—around 1998 or 1999, so roughly twenty-five or twenty-six years ago. It was the philosopher Anne Dufourmantelle—who tragically passed away in distressing circumstances—who first proposed one of his texts to me. Shortly thereafter, Maren Sell, who served as Sloterdijk’s editor across several publishing houses, took over. I worked with her continuously until Sloterdijk moved to Payot. That is essentially how it unfolded. As for Han, if memory serves, the first book I translated was offered to me by Autrement editions. I then translated for the Presses Universitaires de France, followed by Actes Sud.

In both cases, the initial connection is mediated by publishers. With Sloterdijk, however, the relationship developed further: I have met him frequently. We work closely together; he speaks French and is extremely demanding about his texts. He rereads everything I produce, so our collaboration is very direct. For the recent book Le livre de l’Europe, we worked almost in real time. He was delivering his lectures at the Collège de France, and I received the texts week by week. I would translate them and return them to him; he would then revise both his original and my translation simultaneously. It was an intense process. With Han, the situation is entirely different. I have never met him; I wrote to him once. He is a very private individual, rarely encountered. So these are two very distinct relationships.

With Sloterdijk, this is even clearer. He draws on Heideggerian themes, texts, and concepts, yet simultaneously asserts a strong intellectual independence. Originally, Sloterdijk comes from the Frankfurt School, which has little in common with Heidegger. He later distanced himself from it—there is a marked divergence between him and figures such as Jürgen Habermas. Heidegger is one ingredient among others for Sloterdijk—and for Han as well. Han, in particular, constructs his work through a dense network of citations; it is the engine of his writing. Heidegger represents only a relatively minor component overall. So no, I would not describe them as Heideggerian authors. They are authors who work with Heidegger, which is not quite the same thing.

Which thinkers would you place them closer to, then?

OM: That is a difficult question. Spontaneously, I would think of figures such as Jacques Derrida, Jean-Luc Nancy, or Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe. Sloterdijk is strongly influenced by Derrida, whom he cites frequently—Han does as well. These are recurring figures in both of their works. Sloterdijk was also very close to Bruno Latour. There are notable similarities in how Latour and Sloterdijk approach the world: for both, it is not an abstraction but something concrete, something that must be analyzed in its materiality. That is a crucial point. I would place Sloterdijk closer to French philosophy more broadly. Beyond Derrida, there is Gilles Deleuze, and even earlier figures such as Henri Bergson, whom he cites often. Like them, he integrates literature and literary style into philosophical writing. His work contains highly technical passages—often quite demanding—but also lyrical moments that recall the great writers of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Intellectually, then, the proximity to Derrida, Deleuze, and others in that tradition seems evident.

Sloterdijk, like Heidegger or Anselm Kiefer, is closely tied to France—how does he relate to Kiefer ?

OM: They know each other well. Sloterdijk has written for Kiefer’s exhibitions, so there is a genuine intellectual relationship between them. I once had dinner with both of them for the release of one of Sloterdijk’s books. What they share—perhaps this will sound simplistic—is a taste for handling large-scale structures. Kiefer manipulates massive physical materials; Sloterdijk, in a way, manipulates vast segments of intellectual history. Both display a capacity for large-scale vision, for moving conceptual “mass.” This is not particularly Heideggerian—quite the opposite, in fact. Heidegger did not have this sense of scale or “gigantism.” What unites Sloterdijk and Kiefer is their attempt to account for the world in a way that is both highly conceptual and deeply physical. There is a sensual, almost tactile dimension in their work, something embodied. That is integral to their approach. One cannot really say the same of Heidegger, except perhaps marginally.

The latest book is based on Sloterdijk’s lectures at the Collège de France. Is it a transcription?

OM: No, quite the opposite. It is not a transcription but the written text he delivered. As I mentioned, I worked on the text as he produced it, translating it week by week for the Collège de France. For the published version, however, he revised the German edition, and I then reworked my translation based on that revised version. So it is a written text, not a transcription.

How has the book been received in France and Germany?

OM: I cannot say much at this stage. I have seen two articles—one in L’Express and another in Le Point. There was significant interest during the lectures themselves at the Collège de France, but beyond that, I have limited information. What I can say is that the book is performing well. It found its readership immediately. There is clear interest in the topic, and also in the fact that it originates from a Collège de France course. That alone makes it something of an event. It is quite rare for a German philosopher to deliver lectures there—perhaps even unprecedented, though I am not certain.

You also worked on a critical edition of Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler. Is it difficult to translate texts of such intensity?

OM: Intensity is not the word I would use for Mein Kampf. It is an extraordinarily chaotic text. The only real intensity is that of hatred. Otherwise, it is a disordered compilation—a repository of antisemitism and resentment. The value of translating it lies in its usefulness for historians. The French edition, titled Historiciser le mal, includes not only the text itself—about a third of the volume—but also extensive commentary and analysis by leading historians. The real challenge lies in the language. Hitler writes extremely poorly and thinks poorly. The text is repetitive to an almost absurd degree; one could reduce it drastically without losing much content. It constantly circles back on itself.

There is, however, a worldview embedded in it that is important to understand, as it informs elements of contemporary far-right ideology. Certain ideas—such as replacement theories—reappear today in different forms. The difficulty, then, is to extract coherence from a fundamentally incoherent discourse. The language is crude, the logic flawed, the syntax overloaded with conjunctions attempting to connect ideas that do not logically cohere. That is where the real intensity of the translation work lies.

You have also translated thinkers like Hans Blumenberg. Did you ever encounter Jean-Pierre Faye?

OM: No, unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to meet or translate him.

You recently published a book of your own, Retour aux souches.

OM: Yes. It is not a translation but an original work—one among several I have published. My most recent prior book was Traduiritaire, and before that Couleurs brunes, which deals with the language of the far right. Retour aux souches is different. It is a lighter work, almost a satirical exercise. It portrays a far-right political party marked by internal contradictions—diverging ideologies, competing leaders, conflicting narratives. I approached it in a deliberately humorous mode, inspired by Bouvard et Pécuchet. It is, in a sense, a farce. My other works are more serious, but I am quite fond of this one.

Speaking of Gustave Flaubert, he was famously opposed by Friedrich Nietzsche.

OM: Yes, I am aware—but that does not concern me. The enemies of my friends are not necessarily my enemies.

Sloterdijk often recounts the anecdote—Nietzsche referred to Flaubert as “the leaden ass.”

OM:There is, perhaps, a similar spirit of irony in my own book.