On art and war (at the turn of the year)

In a world increasingly drawn to authoritarianism, the question of separating art from its context might feel urgent (again). In the last blog post of the year a reflection on some personal struggles and resulting findings.

And so we come to a new year. Normally, I would immerse myself in a good Götterdämmerung to massage my mind. Music of an ending that harbours in it the promise of a new beginning. But this time, I find it difficult. The looming prospect of darkness in 2025 and beyond makes art with apocalyptic themes feel like something best put on hold. I simply can’t enjoy it right now. My current diet consists mostly of Haydn and (blackened) death metal—a kind of sonic aspirin to deal with the hangover of daily news and a sledgehammer to crush what lingers too long in my mind. Starting the day with Haydn has been a gift from a change in my social media behaviour. Like many others, I’ve migrated from Twitter to Bluesky (check out #A-Haydn-A-Day). That became inevitable when the owner of the former platform unabashedly presented himself as an advocate for global fascism. (Not that it was surprising, but there’s always a drop in the bucket, a moment of irreversibility. Ultimately, you do it for yourself, for your own mental well-being. Apparently, I’m not quite ready for Den Totalen Oligarchie yet.)

With fascism one comes, via music, quickly at Richard Wagner—the usual suspect among artists with a tainted reputation. I was made aware of Wagner’s association with unsavory history early in my journey of exploring his music. Years ago, during my ongoing quest for recordings of Wagner operas that demanded my attention, I met a very kind man in a record store. We talked about classical music, about Mozart and Solti. When Solti’s name came up, I mentioned something like, “He’s mostly known for Wagner, right?” (I was still in the homework phase, hadn’t yet bought a complete Ring cycle, and was debating the choice carefully—I wanted to avoid making the wrong decision. I still thought of Solti as a Ring that would render others unnecessary.) The man kindly but firmly stated that Wagner wasn’t welcome in his home. Part of his (Jewish) family had perished in World War II. Wagner was the composer of the Nazis; his music was the soundtrack of the Holocaust. I could only listen in silence, given the gravity of that association. He added that Richard Strauss was his limit; he was still willing to listen to Strauss. The man who became head of Germany's Reichskulturkammer in 1933 could count on his clemency. And he added, with a twinkle in his eye: “But I also really like Strauss.”

In every listener, the egoist probably ultimately wins out over the moral judge. The way art can speak to us in a highly personal way, the enrichment one owes on an individual level to that art, often transcends the artist's wrong views, or wrong behaviour. (Moreover, with people who want to ban books and music, it often seems that they do so with art they didn't like anyway). Of course, there are limits—especially when current events force us to stare the moral depravity of an artist straight in the eye (see box).

After Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russian-born pianist Evgeny Kissin gave an interview in which he mentioned a a fellow piano player, a friend, who supported Putin.

“After decades living in the West and becoming a British citizen, Berezovsky now claims that Western media only say what the U.S. wants to hear and supports Putin. I haven’t spoken to him since and don’t intend to.
​After 1945, it was a huge mistake to allow musicians who supported the Nazis, such as pianist Walter Gieseking and conductor Karl Böhm, to perform again. That should no longer happen. Russian musicians closely aligned with Putin and refusing to condemn the war in Ukraine should never perform in the civilized world again. By supporting Putin, they have become accomplices to a mass murderer. Being a genius cannot excuse such actions. Only by excluding them can we deter others from doing the same under a future Russian dictatorship.”

​My relationship with Wagner is so ‘personalized’ that I can view him in layers, separating his music from the Nazi contamination that clung to him posthumously. His anti-Semitism and racism may attest to a morally deficient character, his music speaks differently. If it didn’t, we could let him rest on the trash heap of history. But that music!

The quintet in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is one of the most beautiful, humane moments in all of Wagner’s operas. Each character in the quintet contributes unique depth, weaving individual emotions into a unified, resonant whole—a testament to Wagner’s mastery of polyphony and drama.

Yet Die Meistersinger is perhaps the Wagner opera most tarnished by the Nazis. Whether Beckmesser was intended as a Jewish caricature is still debated, but for the Nazis, he certainly was. That’s why I’ve never felt completely comfortable listening to the 1943 Bayreuth performance under Furtwängler (which, incidentally, omits the quintet). Although I can evaluate the music on its merits and find Furtwängler an intriguing conductor, it doesn’t rise above the stench of its context. The mockery of Beckmesser on stage, the laughter in the audience—it’s more than just a bit unsettling. Among all performances of Die Meistersinger, I’d rather skip this one.

In 1974, filmmaker Hans-Jürgen Syberberg interviewed Winifred Wagner. The interview remains a staggering document. As a fan of the music of her father-in-law (whom she never met), I’ve always felt a bit like a disaster tourist watching it. Winifred is clearly cultivated, well-versed in Goethe, but she was also a Nazi sympathizer. As an ‘excuse’ for that she claimed her affiliation with the Nazis was solely due to Adolf Hitler, whom she considered a good friend. Even 30 years after the war, she stated that if Hitler were to enter the room, she’d welcome him as a long-time close acquaintance.
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The combination of cultural sophistication and an apparent lack of a moral compass has always intrigued me. But in light of recent events, I’ve lost that curiosity. When the richest man in the world openly goes Full Metal Nazi, it becomes clear that a significant portion of humanity, even those presumed to possess functioning brains, is eager to return to it. To fascism, to the end of all that drivel about democracy and the rule of law (what has the rule of law ever done for me?). L'enfer c'est les autres.
 
The U.S. elections and their outcomes mean my interest in Winifred has completely evaporated. Where once her opinions on Bayreuth productions could coexist with her approval of the Nazis banning Jewish artists (she didn’t like Mahler anyway, so she didn’t mind that the Nazis canceled him), current geopolitical developments now cause me to become completely disinterested in how she thinks about staging an opera. In a world that seems to have fallen into a kind of ‘Fascism is inevitable’ psychosis, the luxury of a past safely behind us has disappeared and with it my tolerance for pernicious views. Because what was then is now again. In today's world, yesterday's world looms large (also in the opera house, as became clear at a performance of Iphigénie en Tauride).

As for Winifred and her friendship with Hitler, it’s now clear to me that her story wasn’t exceptional. There’s nothing particularly fascinating about it anymore. She was simply not a very good person. It happens. I don’t need to engage with it anymore. The Wagner family of the 1920s and 30s will manage without me while the music of that old bastard remains.

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- Wouter de Moor