Copyright 2006 Amanda von Argyriadis

Crafting a Nation; Art and Politics in Nazi Germany
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Dennis, David, Beethoven in German Politics 1870-1989
Yale University Press, New Haven, 1996
Petropolous, Jonathan   The Faustian Bargain; The Art World in Nazi Germany
Oxford, N.Y., N.Y., 2000
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Part of any state’s nationalistic flavour is their expression in the form of art, be it literature, music, or the visual arts. Art can provide a window into the character of a state, give a feeling or theme, and serve to highlight the activities within the history of that state. Germany is no exception, with Beethoven as a prime example of the nation’s multifaceted use of music to both solidify and express the emotions of its people. In the case of visual arts, however, much of the nation’s twentieth century holdings were illegally obtained during WWII through manipulative methods employed by art historians, dealers, journalists and even artists themselves. In an effort to create a specific visual artistic culture for Germany, the Nazi party created a collection by discarding what they deemed inappropriate for their goal, and pillaged the property of those who had been conquered to flesh out their artistic agenda, thus emphasising the terrors of war and a long lasting need for retribution.

Art finds its way into every nation as its inhabitants express their emotional experience and national sentiment. Who could forget the arrogance portrayed in Jacque Louis David’s Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon I, or the cold, lifeless body in the Death of Marat? Germany, however, had found little revolutionary and nationalistic expression in the visual arts by the twentieth century, and as Petropolous has shown, the powers that be sought to change that status during WWII by pillaging the private collections of conquered subjects, in particular those belonging to wealthy Jews in Germany and neighbouring countries. In order to obtain these precious works of art, knowledge of these collections had to come from art dealers, critics, historians, and the artists themselves. Intended as a contribution to the history of profession in modern Germany, Faustian Bargain; The Art World in Nazi Germany takes the subject a step farther than the title would suggest. Using interviews and reports from Allied agents, German denazification trials, personal and public correspondence, and scholarly secondary sources such as the works of Timothy Garton Ash, Petropolous concludes that this element of the war demonstrates one of the most insidious elements of the Nazi party; that the regime could convince everyday people to stoop to serious criminal acts in order to find favour with the Nazis. These conspiring men (and sometimes women) found wealth, status, and safety in the hands of the SS by collaborating with the Nazi party to obtain the artefacts. In what Petropolous calls a “Faustian bargain,” they sold their artistic and ethical souls to the Nazi party in order to keep their heads and gain position and wealth, if not immortality. They “collaborated with Nazi leaders whom they often recognised as brutal and vainglorious because they perceived opportunities in terms of their own work.”(4) Moreover, most managed to regain status in the art world, although never to the status they had previously enjoyed, and few ever paid retribution for their deeds, receiving a minor fine or brief jail term for their actions. Petropolous makes it clear that this was a tight knit group; that they routinely kept in touch with one another even after the war. As a result, they were often able to continue in their position of dealer, curator, journalist, historian or artist, paying little or no restitution for their acts. As Petropolous points out, by “purging Jews from museum staffs the expropriation of Jew’s artistic property, and the rapacious forays into neighbouring lands must be seen as related to the genocidal program.” While a connection can certainly and perhaps necessarily be made between plunder and genocide, one must have caution not to place them in the same category of deed, and Petropolous is clear in his affirmation that no lives were lost in order to obtain artistic booty. Surely the cultural cleansing of artistic wealth is horrific and noteworthy, but it can never compare to the illogical and inhumane extermination of millions of human beings.

The Faustian myth was not unfamiliar to the learned accomplices found in Petropolous’ study; this was a current and often referenced theme in literature and art of the time. The collaborators must have struggled with the notion of selling their educated and ethical souls to the devil, in this case, to Hitler. They always had the option to resign or emigrate, and many did, but Petropolous finds that those in the most visible positions were the most vulnerable, with the most to lose if they chose to defect. Specialised language and national culture would preclude them from enjoying a post most anywhere else. It appears their thought was that their choice to stay and demonstrate their patriotism through acts of collusion was one of necessity. Rather than lose their home, their jobs, and their safety, many took advantage of the opportunity the Third Reich afforded them. Most were slow to specifically join the Nazi party, and were cautious not to declare their political position in order to keep as many avenues of trade open as possible. They also claimed ignorance of international law, the Geneva Convention, and any other regulations that would disrupt their bargaining, despite their foxy use of Swiss laws to declare ownership of items after five years in their possession. Some even claimed they had become victims of the Nazi party. In the process of plunder, many of them hoarded art for themselves, selling pieces after the war in order to support their lifestyles once they had been denounced by the Allied parties and denazified by the German government. There was an antagonistic attitude regarding the collaborators after the war; heads were turned and past discretions were swept under the carpet by the German government in an effort to forget the past. Most received a fourth level sentence, that of a follower, and not that of hardened Nazi status. Petropolous makes the point throughout the book that while the plundering of art might be a quiet form of violence, it is still violence.

 As their services were needed to recreate museum collections that had been displaced during the war, some collaborators were exonerated completely and few were punished with being Nazis or served time for war crimes. Thomas Mann, as Petropolous points out, said that they have “learned nothing, understood nothing, and regret nothing.” (277) What we can’t know from this study is whether the collaborators were forced to plunder, but we can see the influence their selective process has made on German art, especially in the case of the curators and the artists themselves. Modernism was swept aside as degenerate, despite many dealers affection for the form, while a more traditional, classical theme was preferred by the party and therefore coveted. Photographs of some of the art discussed, (or better photographs) would have been useful; it is difficult to appreciate fully the effect of the plundering and manipulating without a glimpse the evidence.
Manipulating art to represent a desired theme or character is not a new idea; for Germany it began in 1870 with Beethoven, according to David Dennis, who has examined how political leaders and their “expert accomplices have associated Beethoven’s music with specific opinions, thereby transforming art and artist into powerful symbols of multiple ideologies.” (6) While Dennis asserts that the composer did not create his music with a certain political dogma, Beethoven’s past, when closely examined, hints at inspiration from political events and therefore “has functioned significantly in the symbolism of German politics.” (7) Beethoven’s work does not signify just one political element, however, but is multifaceted and can be interpreted in many ways for many reasons. Through an analysis of scholarly works, newspaper articles, political speeches, school textbooks, concert programs, radio transmissions, and television broadcasts, Dennis offers the conclusion that “German propagandists project their often extreme views onto Beethoven’s music, hoping to persuade others to interpret in similarly.” (6) 

Dennis battles with many scholars conflicting opinions on the subject, including Schrade, Schnaus, Schmitz, and Schmitt, but is satisfied with none of their conclusions. He begins his own journey into the matter with an explanation of how Wagner first introduced Beethoven’s music as patriotic, and that Wagner’s writings, concerts and promotional efforts are what ushered Beethoven’s music, the Ninth Symphony in particular, to the forefront of German awareness. Wager presented the music under the terms that he preferred the audience to understand it; for Wagner it was joyful, revolutionary, and in its conclusion, was replete with “human happiness”. While Wagner’s interpretation of Beethoven was inconsistent, the revolutionary and joyful residue stuck with the public, and according to Dennis, continues in our perception of Beethoven today. (16)

More interestingly perhaps, Dennis asks the question, “Why Beethoven”? The answer is surprisingly straightforward and simple; Beethoven was a man who overcame extreme adversity and therefore is a hero to the German public, representing their own political plight. Dennis proposes that “the most appealing aspect of Beethoven’s music for political interpreters is the painful and diligent process that went into it.” (19) According to Dennis, because of Beethoven’s deafness, his ability to create music despite this condition is evidence of “monumental will” something German political pundits can appreciate and relate to. Despite the tragedy of revolutions and wars, Germany has held that it has been both victim and victor, much paralleling Beethoven’s conundrum. Additionally, Dennis tells of cruelty at the hands of Beethoven’s father, an inability to connect with the opposite sex, his poor economic status, and Beethoven’s own interest in politics. Thus, there is no way to arrive at one simple analysis of Beethoven’s work, or at the possibilities for using his music to evoke the emotions of the public and explain the German angst or plight.

Some feel that Beethoven’s music had a predisposed place in German political culture. One only needs to listen to his most widely heard symphonies to understand and feel the power his music conveys; the Ninth, Fifth and Third Symphonies, the Egmont and Fidelo Overtures. So much has been said of these works, however, that it is impossible to believe any one interpretation in particular. Therefore, it is plausible that Beethoven’s works are nothing more, and everything of, the individual listener’s political bent. Much as poetry and visual arts can be interpreted as political, Beethoven’s music is so multifaceted that it can be interpreted in whatever way the listener deems appropriate, and that is exactly what Dennis’ study demonstrates. Bismarck said it made him brave, Heinrich Mann said it comforted him. Chamberlain heralded Beethoven as right wing and heroic; the SPD and the KPD claimed him as a staunch democrat with neither leftist nor bourgeois tendencies. The National Socialists such as Peter Raabe and Alfred Rosenberg claimed the volkish Beethoven image which dominated all others from that point on. Mastering how music was conceived by others, stringent control of scholarly institutions was “pivotal to the Nazi party projecting onto political music preferred political meanings.” (145)  Beethoven’s music was determined by leftists having been democratic or revolutionary because it raised the sprits of all peoples; all of Germany would embrace Beethoven as their cultural saviour, one of their own who had risen above the ashes, one of the few things on which East and West Germans could agree. Unifying the East and West after WWII, Beethoven’s celebratory music would act as both as a salve and powerful adhesive for the nation’s healing process. Dennis asserts that given the history of Germany, only one cultural metaphor could have matched the momentous nature of the unification of Germany. Dennis declares that “no product of German art, whether painting, sculpture, essay, novel, poem, film or song could capture the emotion of the reunification as well as Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, especially its finale.” (198) Perhaps Dennis is a bit biased here, but then again listening to the symphony, one has to agree that is certainly serves the purpose. This book would have done well to have included a CD of Beethoven’s works to allow the reader to fully appreciate the remarks contained within.

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Amanda von Argyriadis is a second year PhD student at George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia. She holds a BSFS in Foreign Service from Georgetown University and an MA in Early Modern European history from George Mason University. Her current work reflects a blend of studies, with a major in American cultural history and a minor in European cultural history. Both areas of study are based in the Twentieth century, with an emphasis on immigration topics.