When, in 1985, the Richard Wagner Museum in Bayreuth, Germany, opened an
exhibition entitled "Wagner and the Jews," its organizer, museum director
Manfred Eger, said it was a plea not for Wagner but for the truth. The
truth is that some Germans, like many Israelis, still cannot "digest"
Wagner, and that the antisemitic composer continues to be an issue -
lukewarm in Germany, hot in Israel.
"Richard Wagner's antisemitism throws a considerable shadow over his
person and his work," Eger states in his introduction to the exhibition:
"There are expressions used by him which could have been attributed to the
National Socialist violently antisemitic Der Stürmer and which are used
today to brand him as a proponent of the Holocaust. But there are also
remarks in which he retracts some of his earlier pronouncements. Moreover,
several of his colleagues and friends were Jews." (One cannot help
recalling the quotation attributed to Field Marshall Göring "It is I who
determines who is a Jew.")
The fact that an exhibition of this nature was organized on Wagner's home
ground is an indication that even there Wagner is still highly
controversial.
While Richard Wagner lived decades before the birth of Nazism, his
influence on the National Socialist movement and especially on its leader
was enormous. In a tractate, Das Judenthum in der Musik, first published
in 1850 under a pseudonym in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, Wagner wrote
that Jewish music is bereft of all expression, characterized by coldness
and indifference, triviality and nonsense. The Jew, he claimed, has no
true passion to impel him to artistic creation. The Jewish composer,
according to Wagner, makes a confused heap of the forms and styles of all
ages and masters. To admit a Jew into the world of art results in
pernicious consequences. In Deutsche Kunst und Deutsche Politik, Wagner
spoke of the "harmful influence of Jewry on the morality of the nation,"
adding that the subversive power of Jewry stands in contrast to the German
psyche.
All these ideas, together with the ultranationalistic character of his
operas, especially "The Ring," provided a fertile feeding ground for Nazi
ideology and cultural conception.
In his exhibition introduction, Eger tries to prove that the roots of
Hitler's antisemitism did not have their origins in Wagner. The exhibition
brochure dwells heavily on Wagner's appreciation of Jewish composers such
as Mendelssohn (his "Hebrides Overture") and Halévy (his opera "The
Jewess"). Eger cites in detail Wagner's friendships with Jews such as the
choirmaster Heinrich Porges and the conductor Hermann Levi, a rabbi's son.
(There was even an affair with the half-Jewish French writer, Judith
Gautier, daughter of author Theophile Gautier and Jewish singer Giulia
Grisi).
Eger reduces Wagner's antisemitic rages to jealousy over the operatic
triumphs of another Jewish composer, his contemporary, Giacomo Meyerbeer.
Wagner's Jew-hating pronouncements are quoted in the company of similar
antisemitic statements by Voltaire, Marx, Luther, Napoleon and others (as
though anyone doubts that antisemitism did not come into the world with
Wagner). These days, claims the brochure, "there is not a trace of
antisemitism in Bayreuth: in 1983 alone, the Bayreuth Festival had three
Jewish conductors."
Eger states that with this exhibition the museum did not want to withhold
facts but, he admits, it cannot close an open wound. If the wound is still
open in Germany - how much more massive is the wound in Israel, with its
Holocaust survivors and their memories? Should Wagner's music be played
publicly in this country? The controversy is still very much alive and is
often acrimonious.
When, in August 1995, Wagner's opera "The Flying Dutchman" was broadcast
on Israel radio during prime time (Saturday evening), it partially broke a
taboo. Wagner's music had been unofficially banned in public in Israel
ever since Kristallnacht in 1938. Since then, the debate has raged. It is
a debate carried on passionately not only among music-lovers, but also by
citizens, young and old, who bring forceful arguments to support their
stand. The clash is marked, on the one hand, by vehement emotion, on the
other, by an attempt at a rational approach. Those advocating the rational
approach say one must separate art from politics and that emotion should
not stand in the way of art. But music, after all, is a matter of the
emotions. Music in all its forms appeals to people's feelings - they react
to music with their hearts, rather than with their minds. What is
undisputed by adherents and objectors alike is the conviction that
Wagner's music is superb. Equally undisputed is the perception that
Richard Wagner was the spiritual father of much of Nazi ideology,
especially its antisemitic character. Wagner coined the expressions
"Jewish problem" and "final solution" - by which he meant the
disappearance of Jews and Judaism. Thousands of Israelis, both of European
origin and native Israelis, perceive Wagner, a loudly-proclaimed favourite
of Hitler, as a symbol of the Nazi era.
"I don't believe in tying music to racism. If we did, we would have to
stop playing Chopin in Israel - he too was a rabid antisemite," says
Nechama Rosler, a violinist with the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. "But,
because Wagner's music arouses such deep emotions, I feel strongly that as
long as it disturbs anyone who associates it with the Nazis, with his own
or his family's suffering in the Holocaust, Wagner's music should not be
played publicly. The function of music, after all, is to soothe, to make
the listener feel good, to stimulate or pacify his or her soul. Whoever
wants to hear Wagner's music can listen to it in private."
"As a listener, I consider Tristan und Isolde a masterpiece of 19th
century music, but I am at the same time repelled by Wagner's
Weltanschauung. I cannot just sit and enjoy his music. I never put on
Wagner's music in my home... Richard Wagner's antisemitic writings will
always overshadow my life." So says Gottfried Wagner, the composer's
great-grandson, who recently visited Israel on a lecture tour. "I cannot
separate the operas from his theoretical work. His writings and his music
form a unified whole... He always considered himself a philosopher first,
and a composer only second," says Gottfried Wagner, who has been disowned
by his family and lives under threat from neo-Nazi groups. He spends his
professional life writing and lecturing on the antisemitism of Richard
Wagner and its consequences on German politics and culture.
In 1981, the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, under the baton of Zubin
Mehta, offered an encore at the close of a subscription concert. Commotion
broke out, with shouts from the audience aiming to silence the music. In
introducing the piece from Tristan und Isolde, Mehta had made a short
speech in which he spoke of Israel as a democracy in which all music
should be played. But, he added, if this particular music offended the
feelings of some of the listeners present, they were free to leave. (Two
orchestra members had, at their request, been excused from playing the
encore). Some older members of the audience quietly got up and went
home.
A few continued for a while to protest noisily, even running
threateningly onto the stage, but the piece was played to the end.
A few
years later a survey was conducted on the question - should the
Philharmonic play Wagner's music? Of those questioned, 50 percent were
against playing Wagner, 25 percent for, and 25 percent had no firm
convictions on the subject. In 1992, the Philharmonic conducted its own
poll among its subscribers. The majority was in favour, 30 percent were
against. In view of the large minority, it was decided to continue to
refrain from playing Wagner, at least for the time being.
Yaakov Mishori, a leading Philharmonic musician, feels the orchestra
should play Wagner. "After all," he says, "Wagner died 50 years before
Hitler came to power. Moreover, he was a kind of private antisemite,
refusing to sign any public declarations against the Jews. He actually
worked with many Jews. Wagner's public relations man was a Jew named
Neumann, Hermann Levi conducted Wagner's works at the time, and a musician
named Rubenstein finished the orchestration of some of his operas."
"I am
opposed to any ban on culture," says Avi Chanani, director of the
classical music division of Israel's state radio. "Zubin Mehta risked
playing Wagner in one fell swoop, but I believe in introducing him
gradually, and that is what I have been doing. Wagner was a revolutionary
in music. His work is central to the development of European music.
Without Wagner it is difficult to understand the history of music. That is
one important consideration for playing his music. But what I feel is
cardinal in my decision to present Wagner on the radio is my belief that
in a democracy, the public has a right to know; it must be exposed to all
information."
Reuven Dafni, an ex-diplomat, who parachuted into Nazi-held Yugoslavia,
concurs: "Even though Zubin Mehta once told me that no orchestra can be a
real orchestra without playing Wagner, I would wait until the last of the
Holocaust survivors is no longer with us. Nevertheless, I think we are
being hypocritical in that we play Carl Orff without compunction - Orff,
who was a self-declared, card-holding Nazi." When, in the 1940s, the ban
on Wagner was imposed, it included the music of another Richard - Strauss.
About 13 years ago, conductor Igor Markevitch was eager to conduct Strauss
with the Jerusalem Radio Orchestra (today the Jerusalem Symphony
Orchestra). This was denied him. But he did make a studio recording of Til
Eulenspiegel. Ever since then, radio listeners have been hearing the music
of Richard Strauss, "gradually," stresses the radio director.
Actually, the stories of the two Richards are quite different. While
Wagner was a theorist whose ideas were meant for posterity, Strauss was a
compliant pragmatist. Strauss had been appointed head of the
Reichsmusikkammer in 1933; in his two years in this position he managed to
get all performing Jewish artists removed from public view. His own
undoing came when, in 1935, Nazi censors came upon a letter of his to
Stefan Zweig - who, together with another Jew, Hugo von Hofmannstahl,
wrote many of his libretti - stating that he wanted to continue working
with him.
Interestingly, the music of Carl Orff is frequently performed in Israel's
concert halls, particularly his popular Carmina Burana, which he composed
in 1937, expressly for the leaders of the Nazi regime. At one point, when
the Nazi cultural establishment wanted to get rid of the name Mendelssohn
as the composer of the popular "Midsummer Night's Dream," they asked
Strauss to rewrite the music. He refused, upon which Orff was asked to
undertake the task and he agreed. However, the project never came to
fruition. Orff seems to have been forgiven, while Wagner remains so
controversial.
Motti Schmidt, leader of the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra, states: "Wagner
was a genius. His was a complicated personality - he was like a
many-layered cake - but he was not a good man. If his music still hurts
the feelings of people in this country, we should respect the rights of
the minority and not play Wagner." Moshe Landau, a retired Supreme Court
judge and presiding judge at the Eichmann trial, says: "I have the same
opinions today that I held in the 1940s. It was enough for me to have read
Judenthum in der Musik. No, I don't think Wagner's music should be played
here."
The basic question remains - can a discussion of Wagner be continued to be
reduced solely to his music? When one talks of "not mixing art and
politics," is that not exactly what this German composer did, who not only
created the music but also wrote the libretti with a supernationalistic
message?
The entire argument about playing Wagner in Israel does not, in reality,
centre around the quality of his music. The question is not whether
Wagner's music is of high or low quality, nor is the argument about how
deep-seated was his antisemitism really relevant. There is no doubt that
there have been other composers who were no less antisemitic. While it
cannot be maintained that Wagner was directly responsible for German
national socialism, there is no doubt that he was a powerful symbol in the
Nazi era, and his music held a singular importance in the Nazi psyche.
Thus, for Jewish survivors of the Nazi horrors, Wagner's music represents
a vivid reminder of that regime. The argument that music must be separated
from politics is not cogent in general, and certainly not in this case. If
anybody introduced politics into music, it was Richard Wagner himself.