The famous rivalry of Bertolt Brecht and Thomas Mann always had a political tone, beyond differences in their approach to literature. As early as 1924, Brecht said of Magic Mountain that it was written for the bourgeoisie and his criticism only grew in 1933 with Joseph and His Brothers, which Brecht regarded as a move to convince the public of the need for social reform and balanced economy, in order to prevent revolt. During their sojourn in California during World War Two, their rivalry reached its apex. What kept the German intellectuals in exile busy at the time was the future of Germany, the state of whose population was either supportive of Nazism or at least indifferent to it. Thomas Mann associated this evil with national German spirit, which he detested. As a moral authority, he stated that Germans should be punished: “Yes, half a million must be killed in Germany”. And even then, liberal democracy is not conceivable. Bolshevist revolution, perhaps.
Although Brecht was a full partner to the horror of sweeping Nazism, of crimes that cannot be blurred, he could not stand Mann’s high ground, speaking for morality as if actually embodying it. Brecht wished to understand the rise of Nazism in context of a historical and material analysis, and believed that when the moment comes, the working class would understand how suppressed it is by a fascist system, would abandon it, and Germany would then get onto democratic tracks. It is at least possible, and cannot be negated ahead of time. Brecht contested Mann’s generalizing attitude to German society, his ignoring brave resistance factors and various tones regarding Nazism.
Mann described Brecht’s attitude as apologetic: Is not an insistence on a possible future “nothing more than a patriotic attempt to protect Germany from the consequences of its crimes?” he wondered. Whereas Brecht described the comfort surrounding Mann who imaginatively executed half a million Germans as “absolute barbarism”: “The stiff collar spoke. No struggle was mentioned nor any claim put forward for this killing. It was solely a question of cold-blooded punishment”. His reaction was translated in his cynical poem “Of the Nobel Prize Laureate”.

I write this for a community website and direct my words to those of my comrades, all of whom read The Daily File updates – sharing the horror, the view of the abyss in which Israeli society finds itself. We are sailing a little fishing boat in a fascist ocean, holding on to our tiny groups to stay a bit sane, trembling at the sight of the genocidal sticker of the greengrocer shop, the Israeli flag on our neighbors’ house, a revolting note during street small talk. We can hardly exchange words with our colleagues who pleasurably close themselves off in denial and silence. Watching television in Hebrew is long no option. On the other hand, so is the blurred contact with reality. We read all the sources and analyses in the only trustworthy websites – obsessively. We know we must not give up our spine.
And all this was true of Thomas Mann and Bertolt Brecht both. I think it’s important to remember these two models, their deep common denominator as well as their no less deep differences. It is so difficult for us to think of any political horizon at the moment; So, struggle? With whom? How? Where? We dig ourselves in, despairing, sensing incredible resentment towards the entire Israeli society. We are Thomas Mann, for how can we be Brecht without any kind of horizon? How can we not sense deep contempt and rage towards the fans of genocide, its deniers and apathetes? Why should we suddenly defend Israelis from the implications of their deeds?
And still – perhaps because as long as I can remember myself reading and acting, I am “with Brecht” – I know that there is something in his criticism, something that should be preserved and acted upon. Mann was never a political figure. His hatred of the German spirit, the German people, the German state, and his revenge-wish possess no political dimension. He was speaking morality, dripping and preaching morality. Like any good bourgeois, he drew a clear line between light and dark. And Brecht, like any good Marxist, was startled with talk in the name of morality. He thought politically, formulated ways of struggling, planned tracks that could be blazed, asked how German society – so ill – could ever be healed. Brecht knew that arrows should not be pointed at some sweeping “German spirit”, but at concrete, material, ideological exploitation and erasure mechanisms.
Like him, I wish to be wary of the position that is intoxicated with its morality. I wish to remind us how hard it is to extricate oneself from the brainwashing of an entire education system, family, society, army, horrible saccharine-sweet mass communication, and everything in the name of supremacy’s rule, the interests and profits that guide it and lodge themselves deep in our collective unconscious.
We have managed to get out of the cave. What now? I have no simple answer to this question. But here are two possible Brechtian keys. First, class thinking hints to focus our severe criticism at those who hold on to power which is both material and symbolic. Second, political thinking requires to leave criticism aside and act; to actually scratch reality, not just its representations. To create political power – even minimal. There are a myriad ways to do this, even in terrible despair. Then we might be a bit less Mann and more Brecht, in the darkest times we’ve known.
Dr. Anat Matar is a Senior Lecturer at the Department of Philosophy, Tel Aviv University, and an activist.
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