On Redemption and Reconciliation 

by Emmett Hogan

A few years ago, on an appropriately overcast day, I visited the concentration camp of Dachau, just outside of Munich. Dachau was the first concentration camp to be established by the Nazis, and it was the first to be liberated by Allied troops. The tragedy of the Jewish Holocaust had its longest run within these walls. Today, it is a national monument, dedicated to the inhuman crimes of Nazi Germany.

The German word for monument is ‘Denkmal’. Anyone familiar with the German language will recognize in this word the root of the verb denken, ‘to think’. Monuments are designed to make people think about and reflect on the past. This is poignantly expressed on a large stone slab in the middle of Dachau, on which is inscribed, in five languages, the phrase “never forget.”

To hear the way some Israelis have reacted to the playing of Richard Wagner’s music in Jerusalem, however, one would think that the words at Dachau say “never forgive and never forget.” Their stubborn insistence on maintaining the taboo on Wagner’s music in Israel reflects a mental roadblock to reconciliation between Jews and Germans.

Daniel Barenboim, a world-renowned conductor, sent ripples through the music world when he and the Berlin Staatskapelle orchestra performed the prelude to Wagner’s opera, Tristan und Isolde, in a performance at a Jerusalem arts festival last week. When the slated program was finished, the conductor turned to the audience and offered to play the piece. He engaged in thirty minutes of vigorous debate with the audience. When he finally lifted his baton to perform the prelude, about fifty protesters left the concert hall. 1000 people remained, and give Mr. Barenboim a rousing ovation when the work was concluded.

Wagner’s music has been under an unofficial ban in Israel for years. Any time a conductor seeks to perform the work there, some dissent is inevitable. At a concert given by another famous conductor, Zubin Mehta, almost twenty years ago, a Holocaust survivor jumped on the stage and removed his shirt to show the scars he had from his years in the concentration camps. Wagner evinces a visceral reaction in Israel for two reasons: he was a virulent anti-semite, and he was the favorite conductor of Adolf Hitler.

These reasons alone, however, are insufficient to support the continued taboo on Wagner’s music in Israel. There is no question that Wagner himself was anti-semitic (indeed, there is a certain poetic justice in his music being performed in Israel - and by a Jewish conductor, no less. He must be rolling in his grave). But this was quite usual for the day. Wagner may have been more outspoken than most, but his sentiments were shared by many prominent composers and individuals of his time. And the fact that he was Hitler’s favorite composer is quite irrelevant to the question of whether or not his music should be played in Israel. Leaving aside the fact that he died fifty years before Hitler’s rise to power (a fact, it bears noting, of which the majority of Israelis are unaware); Hitler’s use of Wagner is more appropriately termed misuse. Wagner’s operas form the bedrock of German musical nationalism of the nineteenth century. But they do not relate in any meaningful way to the nationalism of fascist Germany, any more than Verdi’s operas relate to the nationalism of fascist Italy. Hitler exploited Wagner’s nationalist themes in order to make them part of his political mythology. This sin is Hitler’s, not Wagner’s.

Those who criticize Barenboim’s move, however, belie a much more dangerous flaw than historical oversimplification. Their attitude suggests that reconciliation between Germans and Jews is, quite frankly, impossible. They advocate a wall of cultural separation between Germans and Jews (or, more precisely, Germanness and Jewishness) that is, at its root, precisely what the Nazis advocated. The Nazis banned the music of Gustav Mahler because he was a Jew and, hence, odious to their sensibilities - never mind that he was an outstanding composer. The Israelis ban the music of Richard Wagner because he was an anti-semite German who was posthumously associated with the Nazi regime - never mind that he was an outstanding composer. Is there a difference? Not at all.

Would anyone seriously suggest that those people opposed to homosexuality should avoid the brilliant works of Oscar Wilde merely because he was gay? Should Native Americans shun the patriotic marches of John Philip Sousa because they celebrate a nation that arose, to a great extent, at their expense? Should we in America abstain from watching the movies of Sergei Eisenstein because they were expressions of Communist propaganda? Hitler himself is said to have kept a copy of Macchiavelli’s The Prince by his bedside; should we thus abstain from reading this seminal Renaissance work because - ostensibly - we should shun his inspiration?

The context of a work certainly merits attention; but art is to be appreciated on its merits alone. A bad piece is a bad piece even if written by an angel; a good piece is a good piece even if written by a devil. Wagner’s music is crucial to nineteenth and twentieth century art music. But more to the point: it is beautiful. People should discuss and consider the context in which the music was created; but they should not let that context interfere with their assessment of the aesthetic appeal of the work itself.

Mr. Barenboim’s misguided critics must learn that historical wrongs are not solved by new wrongs. As the maestro himself said during the debate in the concert hall, perpetuating this ban merely gives the Nazis “veto power” over their enemies, decades after their defeat. Wagner made himself a German cultural icon; he was made a Nazi cultural icon by others. This distinction must be made, lest Israelis continue identifying German culture as the enemy. Reconciliation is not achieved by this pointless posturing. Rather, it is achieved by asserting that Jewishness is not the enemy of Germanness, and - in this case - vice versa.