Crisis, Angels, and Political Theology: Incapacitated Transcendence in Klee and Benjamin Against Schmitt

Abstract

This study explores “incapacitated transcendence”—a divine presence that remains ontologically present but lacks sovereign power to intervene—within Paul Klee’s angel paintings. It reinterprets these figures as a critical counterpoint to Carl Schmitt’s theory of sovereignty. While Schmitt rationalized the “decision” of an omnipotent sovereign as a secularized miracle, Klee’s malformed or flightless angels present a starkly different theological device. Influenced by Nietzsche, Klee rejected traditional afterlife-oriented transcendence while preserving it as a domain inassimilable to human finitude. Following World War I, this evolved into “incapacity”—not an absence of the divine, but the structural impossibility of its manifestation through fragile human existence. By contrasting Klee’s Angelus Novus with Schmitt’s sovereign, this study argues that incapacitated transcendence deconstructs the myth of absolute political power. Drawing on Walter Benjamin’s “Angel of History,” this study concludes that this very incompetence constitutes a site of hope. This reinterpretation suggests that aesthetics can offer a profound critique of political theology, challenging absolutist models of power in contemporary crisis.

1. Introduction

What is the origin of the concept of an angel? In Christian tradition, angels have a transcendent function as servants of God. For instance, Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite systematized the celestial structure in The Celestial Hierarchy by organizing various angels into nine distinct orders. In his work The Divine Names, the role of angels is clearly defined as manifesting the divine works of God: “so to be (as it were) the angelic Evangelists of the Divine Silence and to stand forth as shining lights revealing Him that is within the shrine” (Pseudo-Dionysius 1920, DN IV, 2). This perspective was later inherited and further refined by Thomas Aquinas. In other words, just as an earthly king (rex terrenus) demonstrates majesty through his subjects, God runs a bureaucracy of angels (Aquinas 1923, ST I, Q. 103, art. 6). As Giorgio Agamben analyzed, angels enter the realm of sovereignty in that they are “figures of the divine government of the world” (Agamben 2011, p. 165). At this juncture,, terrestrial authorities are depicted as being intricately entwined with celestial beings, who play a pivotal role in providing machines that oversee global governance. Through this theological device, “a pure decision not based on reason and discussion and not justifying itself, that is, to an absolute decision created out of nothingness” is rationalized (Schmitt 2005, p. 66).

Consequently, the angelic figure is embedded within a complex framework of political theology, a context that cannot be adequately addressed by rudimentary Weberian disenchantment. This is because, as the history of dictatorships and support for them shows, it is difficult to remove the wish that a particular instance will be in charge of the omnipotence (Allmacht) that orchestrates the world. Carl Schmitt’s assertion that the rejection of traditional personal gods does not necessarily entail the abolition of transcendence is salient in this regard: transcendence is not dissolved; it is replaced. “The highest and most certain reality of traditional metaphysics, the transcendent God, was eliminated. More important than the controversy of the philosophers was the question of who assumed his functions as the highest and most certain reality, and thus as the ultimate point of legitimation in historical reality” (Schmitt 1986, p. 58). The most renowned Schmittian response to this question is the concept of the sovereign. In Political Theology, the establishment of a fundamental order is not predicated on the common sense of a national community or a referendum; rather, it is derived from the decision of a sovereign who “emanates from nothing” (Schmitt 2005, p. 32). This decision has been characterized as a “miracle” (Wunder) that defies rational explanation (Schmitt 2005, p. 36).

In this context, Paul Klee, who was previously classified as part of the avant-garde movement, is a particularly noteworthy artist. From 1905 to 1940, Klee produced a series of paintings featuring wing motifs or directly labeled “angels,” which he referred to as Unfertiger Engel (Unfinished Angel), thereby diverging from prevailing conceptions of angels. A comparison of Klee’s angels with the angel depicted with a golden laurel wreath atop the Berlin Victory Column (Siegessäule) reveals a stylistic divergence. In Klee’s angels, figures are dwarfed or hypertrophied to the point where they cannot stand still or fly, and their sublimity is replaced by innocence. In critical correspondence with Schmitt, unfinished angels have the potential to function as mediators of deepening transcendence, that is, as anti-sovereign figures. This interpretation aligns with the The Angel of History (Mosès 2009) (Der Engel der Geschichte) posited by Walter Benjamin, where the angel’s inability to restore even finite human history is highlighted (Benjamin 1969). It is well documented that Benjamin’s most valued possession was Klee’s Angelus Novus (New Angel).1

However, this interpretive approach is not well established, which may be due to three reasons. First, in the context of primitivism, Klee’s angels were not incompetent but rather an innocent or primordial life force.2 Second, Schmitt devalued the avant-garde as subjectivist, thereby severing the philological.3 Indeed, Schmidt’s commentary on Klee does not exist, and, reciprocally, Klee does not mention Schmidt in his autobiographical writings. Third, the influence of the Frankfurter Schule in Benjamin’s thesis has led to an emphasis on “The Storm of Progress” rather than the angels. The critique of the violence inherent in a linear interpretation of history was framed as a pressing concern.4 In the Dialectic of Enlightenment, angels are not depicted as incompetent beings; rather, they are portrayed as embodiments. “The angel, which, with a fiery sword, drove humans out of paradise and on to the path of technical progress, is itself the symbol of that progress” (Adorno and Horkheimer 2002, p. 148). For reference, Michael Löwy establishes a connection between the Adornian and Benjaminian angels as a means to evoke the underlying violence of linear progressivism (Löwy 2005). Yet, such a connection paradoxically risks obscuring the specific dimension of “incompetent transcendence” that Benjamin’s angel uniquely embodies.

Building upon the aforementioned inquiries into the crisis of modernity and the theological–political tensions of the early twentieth century, this paper aims to illuminate the philosophical and historical significance of Paul Klee’s angel paintings. As Klee himself admitted, his concept of “abstraction” is intimately linked to the historical transition epitomized by the World War. “The more horrible this world (as today, for instance), the more abstract our art” (Klee 1964, p. 313). While the artillery fire shattered the angel’s body, the artist reassembled the fragments of wings and limbs in the name of abstraction. “Today is a transition from yesterday. In the great pit of forms lie broken fragments to some of which we still cling. They provide abstraction with its material. A junkyard of unauthentic elements for the creation of impure crystals” (Klee 1964, p. 313). It also examines the “incapacitated transcendence” intrinsic to these paintings as a critical counterpart to Schmitt’s concept of sovereignty, as formulated in the 1920s. The rest of this paper is organized as follows: Section 2 examines the influence of Nietzschean philosophy on Klee’s rejection of traditional afterlife-oriented transcendence. Section 3 demonstrates how a sense of transcendence is subtly preserved in Klee’s early works and contrasts this with the concepts of history and sovereignty in Carl Schmitt’s theory. Section 4 analyzes Klee’s angel paintings as a critical counterpoint to the Schmittian sovereign mythology. Section 5 explores the concept of “incapacitated transcendence” in depth, drawing on Walter Benjamin’s interpretation of The Angel of History (Mosès 2009). Finally, Section 6 synthesizes the political–philosophical significance of these discussions and concludes this study.

2. Nietzsche’s Influence on Klee

The fin de siècle is Nietzsche’s time. Since 1893, Nietzsche’s sister Elizabeth, who assumed the role of his legal guardian after his descent into mental illness, has been organizing social gatherings. These events consistently drew significant attendance. Within the artistic community, Nietzsche was revered as a hero; for example, the preface to the January 1896 issue of the Art Bulletin (Die Blätter für die Kunst) stated that the practice of art in the Nietzschean sense is “the highest task of life” (höchsten aufgabe des lebens).5 Further, Nietzsche was an important aesthetic idol for the abstract art pioneer Wassily Kandinsky, with references to Nietzsche appearing throughout his essays (Janse van Rensburg 1987). Of course, this was no exception for Klee. For instance, in a diary he maintained in Munich around 1898, Klee enumerates the Nietzschean atmosphere and pivotal concepts that permeated his era: “Many paradoxes, Nietzsche in the air. Glorification of the self and of the drives. Boundless sexual drive. Neo-ethics” (Klee 1964, p. 26).

Given the above, what is Nietzsche’s view of angels as transcendent administrators in the world? As one might expect from Nietzsche’s early self-identification as a student of Arthur Schopenhauer, this transcendence is unrealistic fantasy. In The World as Will and Representation, the critique that “an angel’s head with wings without a body” (geflügelter Engelskopf ohne Leib) is incapable of perceiving reality itself, which comprises immoral impulses and wills, is easy to find (Schopenhauer 1977, p. 142).6 Similarly, in his first work, The Birth of Tragedy, which announced his turn to philosophy, Nietzsche characterized the truly existent primal unity (das Ur-Eine) as “the eternally suffering and contradictory” being (Nietzsche 1999a, p. 26). The notion that the world behaves rationally is purely a human fantasy: “Reason is the exception even in the wisest person: chaos and necessity and whirling of the stars—this is the rule” (Nietzsche 2019, p. 95).

This study emphasizes that Nietzsche’s pessimism about the contemporary world and his resolute rejection of the afterlife influenced Klee.7 In the autumn of 1900, Klee poetically associated fog with the emptiness he experienced in his life. In the same diary, he openly acknowledged his inability to locate any indication of salvation (Klee 1964). In this context, the meaning of salvation is twofold: on the one hand, it reflects a fear of artistic failure, intertwined with conflicts with his father (Zilch 2004); on the other, it represents the looming clouds of revolution. As Werckmeister established through an examination of Klee’s correspondence, although Klee did not openly proclaim his political convictions, he paid close attention to the revolution. For instance, he supported the Russian February Revolution and, in agreement with the political–revolutionary manifesto of Ludwig Coellen, who was highly regarded among German left-wing intellectuals, even joined the Action Committee of Revolutionary Artists (Werckmeister 1989). As these two factors reveal, Klee’s gaze was directed not toward transcendence but toward earthly affairs. In other words, although he does not readily affirm the possibility of salvation on a secular level, this does not mean he rejects the notion of a leap into the hereafter.

This is particularly salient when life is perceived as futile and irredeemable. In this passage, Klee does not address divine grace; rather, he advances the philosophical hypothesis of death. Using the absolute inexplicability of death as a medium, Klee tried to imagine this unknown dimension as “perfects what could not be completed in life” (Klee 1964, p. 50). Additionally, in the passage that directly mentions “Religious thoughts,” it is not the prayers that are represented but the subject who is grappling and moving toward a higher level that transcends the conventional dimensions of positive and negative: “Before this all-mighty power I might stand the test, and to stand it ethically was my wish” (Klee 1964, p. 39). In this context, it is noteworthy that the subject of Klee’s 1911 illustration, as requested by Alfred Kubin, was Candide: Or Optimism.8 Was this work by Voltaire not a satire of absurd optimism based on theodicy? Klee’s artistic style was predicated on the antithesis of traditional transcendence.

In this context, Klee’s early work The Hero with the Wing (Der Held mit dem Flügel 1905) can be interpreted as an example of his embracing of Nietzschean motifs. The wing depicted in the drawing with the deformed right arm is incomplete, as it lacks proper shape. This may allude to Nietzsche’s argument that the concept of transcendence has humble origins, contrary to its traditional definition. In other words, the concept of transcendence is a mere fabrication. According to the Nietzschean argument, transcendence serves as a defense mechanism used by an incapacitated subject to obscure the chaotic essence of the world.9 The depiction of the hero as a polio brace on one leg can also be linked to the criticism that the Catholic God is a figment of the imagination of those with a resentment of reality, a so-called “God of the sick” (Nietzsche 2005, p. 15). This begs the following question: Is the falling hero really Nietzschean?

3. On Preserved Transcendence and Schmidt’s Response

The initial observation pertains to the tragedy: In the lower left corner of “The Hero with the Wing,” the following words are visible: “The Hero with the Wing/Endowed by nature with one wing/he got the idea that he was/predestined to fly, and this/was his downfall.” As is clear, Klee’s gaze is focused on tragedy. However, the hero in this story is analogous to the Icarus myth, in which he flies without realizing that he is in danger of falling. As Wedekind (1996) notes, this Icarus-like fall epitomizes the element of tragicomedy (Tragikomik) inherent in Klee’s artistic vision. By contrast, Nietzsche’s tragic subject clearly recognizes the nature of the world. This subject, the so-called “Dionysiac man,” recognizes that his ideas are made up and do not reflect reality; he also accepts that they cannot organize chaotic reality (Nietzsche 1999a).10 In addition, it is difficult to imagine Klee embracing the Nietzschean concept of reality, based on his lecture at the Jena Museum in 1924. In setting the artist as the medium of nature, Klee said: “His position is humble, and the beauty at the crown is not his own. He is merely a channel” (Klee 1945, p. 15). In this case, beauty is described as a real and romantic harmony with nature, not as a fiction of the subject.11

Klee was influenced by Nietzsche, but was not fully aligned with Nietzsche’s ideas. In this sense, the interpretation of “The Hero with the Wing” can be as anti-Nietzschean. For instance, the following interpretation is conceivable. In the 1900s, Klee’s conception of transcendence was characterized as a transcendental instance that condemned arrogance (a general moral of the Icarus myth). In this context, misshapen wings do not draw attention to the absence of a divine power; rather, they highlight their presence. The crux of this issue lies in the impossibility of embodying transcendence. In summary, for Klee, transcendence must be embodied in human beings grounded in reality rather than in the afterlife; yet, the human body cannot fully embody divine power within its own finitude.12 In the domain of subjectivity, a tombstone is erected, what Klee self-helpfully describes as an “emblem of the tragicomic” (Klee 1964, p. 162). It is evident that these physical limitations have also been bequeathed to the literary legacy of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. What did Victor Frankenstein, “one of literature’s most notorious Promethean over-reachers” (Mousley 2016, p. 161), create by stitching together pieces of a corpse?―It was a monster.

In this context, transcendence is neither absent nor digestible to humans. Further, it is important to note that the hero is not an angel but a mortal human being. If so, the number of cases of angelic descent remained the same. Of course, the notion that transcendence persists beyond human existence in its ultimate form is not particularly novel, as the theological concept of the so-called Deus absconditus (hidden God) has a long lineage, traceable to the early mystical tradition exemplified by Gregory of Nyssa and further developed through the scholastic systematization of Thomas Aquinas.13 While the period of direct angelic manifestations of frescoes and parchments within the context of the Christian worldview has ended, as previously discussed in the introduction, the concept of omnipotence has not been abandoned but rather substituted. At this juncture, the subsequent element to be contemplated in conjunction with Klee’s Angel, who has not yet made an appearance, is history, because it establishes the conditions for this advent. As Beiser (2016) has pointed out, the nineteenth century was an era in which historiography emerged as a powerful determinant of the human world.

According to Schmitt, history is a demiurge of modernity emerging as a source and creator of humanity: “Now, however, time as history becomes a creative power. It carries peoples and families to world-historical greatness. It forms nations and individuals” (Schmitt 1986, p. 63). The following point merits attention: for Schmitt, the notion of history stands in direct opposition to the Jacobin ideology that asserts the capacity to control it at will. The demiurges of history are “the conservative god” who creates a concretized national spirit based on “a sociological and historical reality” (Schmitt 1986, p. 62). However, the issue arises from the abandonment of theodicy, which no longer makes it feasible to presume that history automatically engenders meaningful order. Schmitt too recognizes that this historicity is the “irrational abyss that brings forth the cosmic event” (Schmitt 1986, p. 62). For him, therefore, the question of who and how to handle the perceived historical realities for Realpolitik was extremely serious. He began refining his theory of sovereign power in the 1920s. Of course, angels come to be endowed with the opportunity to reemerge as representations of sovereign power. In this context, Agamben (2011) argues that Schmitt’s theory of the state of exception is fully consistent with Nicolas Malebranche’s model of angelic power.

In this context, the fact that Klee completed Angelus Novus (New Angel) around 1920 is of particular period significance. However, this form does not align with Schmitt’s theoretical framework.

4. Sovereigns and New Angel

“It’s all glowing above the town, glowing. A fire raging in the sky and clamour there below like trumpets.” This is the sound of the main character in Karl Georg Büchner’s unfinished play, Woyzeck (Büchner 2021), which was first performed in Munich in November 1913, shouting in a state of hallucination.14 Given that World War I broke out the following year, the prophetic tone of the nervous voice is uncanny. Coincidentally, it is noteworthy that the initial manifestation of an angel in Klee’s oeuvre occurred in 1913, as depicted in Ein Engel überreicht das Gewünschte (The angel who grants wishes). In this work, the angel is not depicted as transcendent. An angel that comes to a dwarfed, skeletal human being, completely bereft of the density of light and shade, is merely a winged being on a body as thin as a praying man’s. Even the minimal background description used to infer his divine power was removed; therefore, the sketch’s title is ironic. When juxtaposed with the image of Michael vanquishing a dragon with his sword, the angel depicted in Klee appears minuscule. In addition, compared with Rodin’s angel (The Call to Arms; 1879), which was designed to encourage participation in the Franco-Prussian War, Klee’s angel is depicted as a diminutive, unassuming being.

This tendency toward incomplete depictions of transcendence became even more pronounced after World War I. Indeed, Klee was recruited for two years in 1916, during which time he served as a clerk at the Bavarian State Flying School. The notes he recorded in his diary while salvaging destroyed fighter parts are readily apparent (Geelhaar 1973). The experience of a ruptured world was sublimated into incompetent transcendence. Angelus Descendens, painted in 1918, is particularly interesting. As Harriet Zilch noted, the painting draws on the Christian motif of the Holy Spirit’s appearance as a white dove during Christ’s ascent (Zilch 2004). In this painting, Klee depicted the angel as a paper kite suspended from a bird. This motif is also evident in Feuer = Engel, which was painted a year later. The figure, which would be challenging to identify as an angel if not for the title, is depicted as a naked being with no wings.15 Despite the potential to interpret this as naïve, it does not alter the political status. Naivety was far from responsible. The concept of responsibility has been a fundamental aspect of the German political discourse since the publication of Politics as a Vocation.16

Currently, even a variation of the old Icarus myth is not permitted, and the lack of a transcendent instance to condemn arrogance is powerfully evoked. Therefore, it can be posited that the malformed wings that emerged from human shoulders in 1905 were transferred to angels in the aftermath of World War I. The significance of this work is further accentuated when considering the prevailing state of post-war Germany, which was beset by “endemic disorder,” “desperate hunger,” and “demoralization among intellectuals” (Gay 1968, p. 14) and Schmidt’s endeavor to propose a solution. During this period, Schmidt argued that the Weimar Republic’s culture of debate merely delayed political decisions because of “never-ending discussion” (Schmitt 2005, p. 63). He argued that dictatorship was necessary to restore order amid the crisis. Of course, this model of sovereignty is similar to his thesis that the modern doctrine of the state is a secularized theological concept, predicated on the rule of the Christian God.17 Schmitt cites Juan Donoso Cortés, a 19th century Spanish statesman who advocated solitary determinism for sovereigns, as his “guardian angel” (Schutzengel) (Schmitt 1991, p. 21).

However, angels are either absent or incapable of embodying theoretical truth, as evidenced by Adolf Hitler, who expressed his political theological hopes. In this context, New Angel, which Klee completed in 1920, is a critical counterpoint to the sovereign mythology. In this work, the angel’s wings, reminiscent of extended fingers, appear insufficient to support the enlarged head. The tragedy of this work is amplified by the contrast between the immature wings and fully developed eyes. This new angel fails to be Pyrrho’s Pig; the only available course of action is to stare at an imminent peril with a sense of powerlessness. In summary, for Klee, the concept of transcendence signifies an inherent limitation, in which even transcendent beings are incapable of complete embodiment. However, transcendence is inherently incompetent.18

5. Bizarre Angels and Incapacitated Transcendence

This incapacitated transcendence is unique to the new angel and is all the more striking given the way angels have been treated in the art world before and after Klee. First, it is not difficult to find a pervasive sense of pessimism regarding history among European intellectuals during this period, as exemplified by The Decline of the West. However, the concept of transcendence has tended to shift toward demonization rather than incompetence. A notable illustration of this phenomenon appears in Poe’s (1844, p. 158) short story, “The Angel of the Odd.” In this narrative, the angel’s actions are characterized by grotesque chaos rather than order, and its appearance is dehumanizing, comprising discarded items such as wine and rum barrels and boxes of cigarettes.19 A surrealist version of this appears in Ernst’s painting, Fireside Angel, painted in 1937, which depicts an angelic figure composed of fluttering rags engaged in a frenzied dance. As Ofrat reminds us, the angel is more like “a monumental demonic entity that dominates the entire universe” (Ofrat 2014, p. 111) in line with the fascist mania sweeping Europe at the time.

This distinction persists when interpreting demonicity, or more precisely, the chaos it presides over or encourages, as a positive expression of its power. For instance, Agamben interprets Poe’s grotesqueries and Grandville’s satirical works as instruments for the destruction of the decadent old order and as vehicles for fostering new relationships between humans and objects. In his notes, the author specifically identified Kafka’s Odradek as a descendant of The Angel of the Odd. “As usual, Poe was among the first to register this new relation between man and object. In a tale, translated by Baudelaire, entitled ‘L’ange du bizarre’ (The angel of the bizarre) he makes an improbable creature of nightmare appear, the ancestor of the Odradek bobbin of Kafka” (Agamben 1993, p. 51). In this interpretation, Odradek, the nonhuman entity depicted as dragging a thread across the porch, is conceptualized as a heterogeneous potential. The fundamental problem, however, is that Odradek’s language, “the rustling of the leaves” (Kafka 1971, p. 248), is barren land of interpretation. Is Odradek no more inscrutable than incompetent here?

To reiterate, the demonic and inscrutable share a transcendent affinity. The former is the devil’s replacement for the demiurgos of history, and the latter is merely the transformation of the mediator of transcendence into inscrutability. By rendering all interpretations impossible, Odradek blocks the idea that the universe might be completely devoid of center or order.20 In other words, through demonization and inscrutability, certain transcendent realms are preserved within history that cannot be related to, and therefore cannot be controlled by, human capacities. By contrast, Klee’s incapable angels bring this transcendental realm into the immanent realm. A transcendent cannot handle this type of transcendence. The notion of a hidden hand manipulating an intricate web of history that entwines humans and nature is a fallacy. Sovereignty is not immune to the limitations of finitude.

In this context, it is noteworthy that Benjamin invokes Klee’s Angel, rather than another angel, as an allegory for the “Angel of History” (Der Engel der Geschichte) (Benjamin 1969, pp. 257–58).21 In his critique of Poe’s work, Benjamin does not categorize the Angel of the Odds as an angel of history. Odradek’s place of interpretation also remained “the form which things assume in oblivion” (Benjamin 1996b, p. 811). In summary, Odradek is not an angel of history; rather, it is a pile of rubble that the angel attempts to restore. Benjamin’s angel is Klee’s, who is incompetent. In Thesis IX, do angels not constantly fail to prevent catastrophes? The blind spot of focusing too much on the storm of progress, then, is that it creates a certain fantasy, as if the angel could succeed in “awakening the dead, and making whole what has been smashed” if only the storm would stop blowing (Benjamin 1996a, p. 392).22 This obscures the fact that the angel was not transcendent in the first place. Rather, it was fragile and unable to control even the ideologies of mere mortals.

Yet, this very incapacity is also inherent in the Schmittian sovereign. As Klee’s teachings suggest, order is not an achievement of sovereignty, but merely a resultant product of interacting contingencies. The primordial flow of Genesis defies any attempt at territorialization. “Peace on earth is an accidental congestion of matter. To take this congestion as basic is mistaken” (Klee 1961, p. 78). In this context, it is intriguing to observe the topographical shift in Benjamin’s conceptualization of angels and transcendence. For instance, in The Origin of German Tragic Drama, the fundamental objective of the Baroque subject is to restore fractures: “For it is common practice in the literature of the baroque to pile up fragments ceaselessly, without any strict idea of a goal, and, in the unremitting expectation of a miracle, to take the repetition of stereotypes for a process of intensification” (Benjamin 2003, p. 178). In this context, the fundamental motif that underlies the work of allegorical restoration is characterized as transcendent: “to rescue them for eternity” (Benjamin 2003, p. 223). Indeed, Benjamin presents the anguished Dürer’s angel of Melencolia I as the patron saint of the Trauerspiel, whose spiritual concentration is directed toward salvation (Benjamin 2003, pp. 148–51).

However, as we transition from Dürer’s angel to Klee’s angel, the transcendence previously maintained in the tension between salvation and reality is shattered: from now on, transcendence is incompetence.23 This has numerous interpretive ramifications, but within the scope of this study, emphasis is placed on its function as a method of preservation for both the perception of reality and the potential for salvation. All good strategies begin by diagnosing the situation as it is. One of the teachings of incapacitated transcendence is that there is never a transcendent system. Transcendence refers to the absolute preservation of imperfections. Thus, the despair of those who regard oppressive regimes as absolute is only the subjectivity of despair, and not the truth of history. The practical situation we face corresponds to Benjamin’s unfinished thesis (B): “For every second was the small gateway in time through which the Messiah might enter” (Benjamin 1996b, p. 397).

6. Conclusions

This study posited that the fundamental essence of Klee’s angel painting lies in its “incapacitated transcendence.” It further interpreted this as bearing critical possibilities for Schmitt’s conceptualization of sovereignty, as articulated in the 1920s. To this end, this study traced and reconstructed how Klee received and transformed the concept of transcendence. The findings revealed that Klee did not endorse the conventional interpretation of transcendence. In his personal journal, he acknowledged the influence of Nietzscheanism, a philosophy that was widely popular in the late nineteenth century. In essence, he did not adhere to beliefs in an afterlife or in the expectation that history was directed by a transcendent force. In contrast to Nietzsche’s philosophy, Klee’s perspective did not entirely discard the notion of transcendence. In The Hero with the Wing, the focus was on humans rather than on the divine. In this case, transcendence was manifest, yet it was regarded as though it were not fully embodied by human beings.

This covertly preserved transcendence—after a century of turn-of-the-century changes, including a military buildup, the rise of nationalism, rapid urbanization, and nervous breakdowns—became evident in the 1910s–1920s, as transcendence gave way to an incapacitated form, exemplified in Klee’s angel series. Conventionally, angels, as representatives of divine authority, were regarded as formidable entities. However, in Klee’s artistic interpretation, angels were depicted in a seemingly impotent form, challenging traditional portrayals. This figure offered a critical perspective on Schmitt’s theory. As a Nazi jurist, he called for a sovereign who embodied this transcendence to resolve the chaos of the 20th century. However, even angels, who were regarded as transcendent beings, did not embody transcendence. Similarly, throughout history, no sovereign entity had ever fully embodied the power envisioned by Schmitt. The history of sovereignty was replete with errors, lacunae, and fortuitous events. From Benjamin’s perspective, this could be interpreted as a sign of hope rather than despair. Benjamin characterized Klee’s angel in his thesis as The Angel of History (Mosès 2009), which described the angel as being incapable of restoring history. This could be conceptualized as the paradoxical possibility of redemption rather than a catastrophe. This is because, within the framework of this teaching, no oppressive system was regarded as absolute, and the potential for rebellion was consistently upheld.

This study interpreted Klee’s angel series through a political–philosophical lens, thereby revitalizing Schmitt and Benjamin’s concept of sovereignty. First, it provided insight into “incapacitated transcendence” from a political–theological perspective, an aspect of Klee’s angels that had not been explored in previous studies. According to this novel interpretation, Klee’s angel is a critical image of Schmittian sovereign power. Similarly, this study focused on Benjamin’s Angel of History as an incapacitated being and highlighted its paradoxical potential. This interpretation offers a new perspective that has not been examined in prior research; instead, previous studies have focused on the violence associated with progress. Here, the core principle is the rejection of viewing any oppressive system as transcendent. This firm stance underscores a resolute possibility of redemption. Klee’s “nothingness” (Nirgend) constitutes a genuine state of exception to the territory governed by Schmittian sovereignty: “Einst werd ich liegen im Nirgend, bei einem Engel irgend (One of these days I shall lie in nothingness beside an angel of some kind)” (Klee 1998, p. 9).

More importantly, the concept of incapacitated transcendence offers a novel critical lens for reassessing political theology. By challenging absolutist notions of sovereignty, this framework opens new interdisciplinary pathways among art history, philosophy, and political theory in the analysis of modernity and crisis. Nevertheless, this study has certain limitations, particularly its interpretive and theoretical focus on selected works. Its reliance on philosophical analysis rather than archival research, reception-historical inquiry, or comparative visual analysis may limit the generalizability of these findings across Klee’s broader oeuvre or other modernist artists. Consequently, future research could include comparative studies examining incapacitated transcendence in other modernist or postwar artists. Furthermore, a deeper archival investigation into the intellectual intersections among Schmitt, Benjamin, and visual culture is encouraged to further substantiate the political–theological implications of this framework.