Karl Marx mockingly referred to the Hungarian revolutionary leader Lajos Kossuth as "an improviser who is moulded by the impressions he receives from the audience facing him at any given moment, not an author who stamps his original ideas on the world." A few years earlier, Marx had similarly derided Giuseppe Mazzini for a failed uprising, comparing him to an improviser: "Has one ever heard of great improvisators [sic] being also great poets?" he wondered. "They are the same in politics as in poetry."

Marx's improvisation-bashing raises important questions: how does improvisation relate to politics? Are there, contrary to Marx’s view, valid reasons to adapt one’s performance to the impressions received from an audience at any given moment? My dissertation, Hannah Arendt and the Political Promise of Improvisation, seeks to answer these questions by examining the intersection of political action and improvisation. To do so, I draw on Hannah Arendt's concept of political action and speech. While Arendt barely used the word “improvisation,” her ideas about politics reveal striking parallels with the concept. Her focus on virtuosity and spontaneity, as well as her assertion that the performing arts have a strong affinity with politics, puts her thought in dialogue with improvisation studies. Unsurprisingly, scholars in both Arendt studies and improvisation theory have noted that her conception of politics resonates with improvisational practice. This dissertation goes further, arguing that improvisation is not just similar to politics but is a historically significant mode of political performance.

To support this claim, I apply Arendt's phenomenological approach to recover earlier, political meanings of improvisation that have gotten lost over time. First, I examine the historical background of the term “improvisation,” tracing it back to Italian improvisational poetry and comedy theatre. Particularly relevant are the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century improvivisatori (male) and improvvisatrici (female)—solo performers who would spontaneously compose verses based on themes suggested by their audiences. Next, I turn to a manifesto for extemporaneous speech in Athenian democracy written by Plato's contemporary Alcidamas, who argued that politicians should invent and deliver their speeches in real-time as they face their audience. I also highlight an important aspect of improvisation: its inherent unpredictability. Because it cannot be pre-read or controlled before performance, improvisation can be a disruptive form of expression, particularly when performed before agitated audiences. The disruptive potential of improvisation becomes most evident in the opposition it faced by those in power, with the Viennese anti-improvisation law of 1770 serving as the most emblematic example. It is here that improvisation acquired new connotations as an act of rule transgression, civil disobedience, and political liberation.

I then explore two opposing political conceptions of improvisation in the twentieth century. On one side, the Cold War era idealized jazz improvisation as a symbol of consumer freedom—a model that also deflected attention from the pervasive racism in the U.S. On the other, jazz improvisation was viewed as a revolutionary ideal for freedom, self-determination, and liberation from racial and economic oppression. I argue that improvisation is not inherently democratic or emancipatory and can be employed by anti-democratic forces as well. For instance, Martin Luther King Jr. often improvised in his speeches, as evidenced by the "I have a dream" section of his 1963 address. But Donald Trump also embraces improvisation, positioning himself as a staunch defender of it.

In conclusion, I reflect on the political and emancipatory potential of improvisation, whether in jazz, theatre, or political oratory.

In addition to my doctoral research, I am a bass clarinettist, composer, and teacher at the Jazz Department of the Conservatory of Amsterdam, where I lead a Master’s elective titled "Freedom and Improvisation." Over the years, I’ve explored the intersection of philosophy and improvisation, leading to publications in Tijdschrift voor Filosofie, Hollands Maandblad, and a chapter in Muziek Zit Tussen je Oren. I also intergrate these research insights into my musical work. For example, my album Rope Dance is inspired by Nietzsche’s parable of the tight-rope walker, while Oh Einsamkeit! —a chamber music composition—explores Nietzsche's notion of solitude. The project ExTemp features two dancers (Meg Stuart and Claire Vivianne-Sobottke), drummer Jeff Ballard, and myself on bass clarinet, drawing on the improvvisatori-tradition of improvising on given themes. In my solo set Impropolis, I alternate between bass clarinet improvisations and brief narrations that reflect my research. My latest solo project, Red Flag, focuses on the connection between music and left-wing politics, offering improvised renditions of protest, battle and folk songs associated with politically engaged artists like Paul Robeson, Kurt Weill, and Frida Kahlo.