Imagining Richard Wagner: The Janus Head of a Divided Nation

Abstract

Over course of its turbulent history, German nation has defined itself time and again in terms of a constructed Other. The Other--depicted variously a political, ideological, or racial opposition to existence of imagined German Self--has served a common enemy against which nation can unite, essentially a vehicle for promoting national spirit. Discussing historically exclusive nature of German nationalism, Christian Joppke observes, the German concept of nation thus became more like a weapon than a unifying symbol, property of some but not of others. (1) Implicit in this is perception of an enemy within, a construct of nation in which Self and Other are two sides of same coin. Thomas Mann famously asserted in 1945 that one could not speak of two separate Germanys, an evil one represented by Hitler and a good one that encompassed Kultur. (2) Yet Cold War progressed, identity-formation processes were dependent on narratives of separate Germanies: Germany oppressed and oppressor, perpetrator and jury, and, most obviously East and West. The political scientist John Keane notes that crises are times during which living do battle for hearts, minds and souls of dead, an observation that is pertinent here. (3) Uniting various postwar definitions of nation, intimated by Thomas Mann, was shared cultural heritage, which inevitably emerged a focal point in ideological combat of Cold War. Amid abject poverty in Berlin in 1946, an incredulous cultural correspondent from Time magazine revealingly acclaimed city the current theatrical and musical capital of Europe, noting that theaters with their roofs blown off and their walls caved in are housing productions ... that would shame a good deal of stuff shown on Broadway. (4) Birthdays and anniversaries of Germany's dead musical luminaries were seized upon nation-building and propaganda opportunities; in both East and West numerous years (Gedenkjahre) and other smaller festivals were organized to honor, and exploit, pantheon of Germany's cultural heroes. The 200th anniversary of Bach's death in 1950 gave rise to a year-long series of festivities; a Beethoven-Gedenkjahr to celebrate 125th anniversary of composer's death followed in 1952, and commemorative celebrations for Schubert, Schumann, Mozart, and Handel followed in quick succession. (5) The Canon in a Divided Nation The commitment to canon by Soviet and American occupying forces played in their favor by confronting widely held perceptions of both culturally challenged nations. (6) It also tapped deep into German psyche; culture, and in particular music, was intrinsic to German sense of self and national identity. Robert Schumann, for example, observed in 1839: as Italy has its Naples, France its Revolution, England its Navy, etc., so Germans have their Beethoven symphonies. (7) The response to this conviction was strikingly different in East and West Germany. The Americans were adamant that Third Reich had been no chance occurrence but a product of an innate German chauvinism that was manifest in their attitude toward their musical heritage. A reoccurrence of war was inevitable unless these basic flaws in German character were addressed. (8) Consequently, in immediate aftermath of war, focus in West Germany was on denationalization of canon. Radio programs and concerts interspersing German music with compositions from Allied nations, accompanied by promotion of non-German performers, aimed to reduce German certainty about their musical supremacy. David Monod describes American attempts to attack Nazi sentiments in music sector by showing Germans that Americans could sing Wagner better than they. (9) Similarly, Bach and Beethoven were no longer discussed in terms of their German heritage but depicted products of an international humanism, one to which Germany had no greater claim than any other nation. …