Month: April 2024

Review: Two Brecht Plays

Review: Two Brecht Plays

Mother Courage and Her Children by Bertolt Brecht

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The poor need courage. Why? They’re lost. That they even get up in the morning is something.

It is surprising to read, from such a famously doctrinaire thinker, a work of art that is so rich in moral ambiguity. The titular character is enormously compelling, despite being neither hero nor villain. Mother Courage has moments of courage, of course, but also of capitulation, moments wherein she is admirable and when she is despicable. She is, on the one hand, a war profiteer, a kind of jackal gnawing at the scraps of human carnage. But can a person living on the edge of poverty, with hardly any other viable option to make a living, be condemned?

The world that Brecht presents is as hopeless and absurd as in any work from the previous century. It is a world where both morality and immorality are rewarded with cruelty. Two of Mother Courage’s children are killed as a direct consequence of their attempts to do the right thing, whereas her oldest son is killed for his crimes (the same crimes, ironically, that were praised in wartime). Mother Courage herself, who at least survives, is moral within the bounds of practicality. Even when life and death are on the line, she is always a business woman first and foremost, unwilling to make any sacrifice that will jeopardize her ability to make a living.

Considering Brecth’s Marxism, I am tempted to view Mother Courage as a kind of embodiment of the evils of capitalism—or, at least, as a portrait of how capitalism degrades us. And certainly she is far from ennobled by her ceaseless dealings and negotiations. In perhaps the pivotal scene in the play, she convinces a soldier that protests against the powers that be are useless. Her worldview, in other words, is materialistic and cynical.

And yet it is the war, not the economy, that is the defining element of the setting. And it is a war of religion. Is Brecht showing us, then, how capitalists lack the moral ability to oppose war? Certainly Mother Courage’s attempts to profit from the conflict ultimately destroys her family; but there doesn’t seem to be any other option open to her besides starvation.

Rather than a condemnation of capitalism or even of war, then, my final impression was of a cry of despair for the entire human race, written at one of the darkest moments of the previous century. Not cunning, nor cruelty, nor selfishness, nor martyrdom, nor religion, nor anything else can save the characters of this play from ruin. It is a portrait of an entire world gone mad.

Galileo by Bertolt Brecht

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The evidence of your eyes is a very seductive thing. Sooner or later everybody must succumb to it.

This play succeeds as a drama while failing as history, at least as a history of science. Galileo here is presented as a kind of anti-religious working-class hero—who wants to liberate the toiling masses through knowledge. However, the idea that his philosophy of the heaven’s would naturally lead to atheism and, thus, political disquiet—an argument put against him at various points in the play—would have seemed very foreign to the seventeenth century. To my knowledge, those who censured Galileo were far more afraid of the Protestant Reformation than the Proletariat Revolution.

And as Eric Bentley’s astute introduction points out, the terms of the debate are also not fairly portrayed. True, when Galileo was looking through his telescope and merely reporting what he saw, this was a case of raw observation overturning established doctrine. But in the more important case—Galileo’s advocacy of the Copernican system—it is simply not true that the heliocentric astronomy was manifestly superior to the geocentric.

On the contrary, arguments for its adoption were in the realm of abstract mathematics, far removed from the realm of simple observation. Ironically, then, Galileo was indeed not simply asking the doctrinaire philosophers to accept the evidence of their senses. He was, in a real sense, asking them to disregard it—since, as we all know, what we experience every day is the sun rising and setting, not the earth in motion.

Also, the argument that the Copernican astronomy is a blow to human vanity is also rather anachronistic. Readers of Dante’s Divine Comedy will recall that, although Earth is regarded as the center, it is hardly a privileged place in the cosmos. On the contrary, each of the heavenly spheres is the more divine the further it is from earth, with God himself furthest of all. Thus, for Galileo to place earth among the heavenly spheres was rather flattering to humanity’s stature.

Yet this is a play, not history, and must be judged as such. Written at nearly the same moment as Mother Courage and Her Children, this play—though apparently quite different—shares the central feature of a morally ambiguous hero in compromising circumstances. At various points, particularly at the end, Brecht seems to want to condemn the famous scientist, just as Brecht judges Mother Courage rather harshly. And yet, in both plays, the cowardly behavior of the protagonists is their only real option, the alternatives being a pointless martyrdom.

The ambiguous nature of Galileo—hero and coward, genius and bungler (scientifically astute and yet politically inept)—is what gives him his authentic humanity as a character, as somebody we can readily identify with. That is not to deny his greatness. For Brecht here has portrayed a truly great figure, even an authentically tragic figure, whose flaws form an integral part of his virtues. The play succeeds, then, in spite of its historical inaccuracies, through a compelling portrayal—all too rare in drama—of an intellectual struggling against his surroundings.



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Quotes & Commentary #83: Austen

Quotes & Commentary #83: Austen

There is something so amiable in the prejudices of a young mind, that one is sorry to see them give way to the reception of more general opinions.

Jane Austen

Part of getting older—in my experience at least—is becoming more “normal.” Of course, “normal” is hard to define, and its definition always depends on social context. But basically, I mean behaving in a way that doesn’t make you stand out, as well as having beliefs that fall within the mainstream (Jane Austen’s “general opinions”).

For better or worse, by this generic definition, I find myself becoming more normal with each passing year. And I am continually reminded of this in my role as an educator. Teenagers like to push limits, and I often hear things which no “normal” person would say or even think—said just to provoke a reaction. These adolescent provocations are certainly not endearing.

But youth also includes a certain naïveté, in which opinions are unbound by considerations of what is practical or possible. Usually these opinions are absurd, but sometimes there is a spark of creativity that, I feel, I and many adults have lost. (Though to be fair, most of their theories of how to improve society involve abolishing school.)

And although I am not so sure about the idea—commonly bandied about—that schools are designed to beat out creativity, it is certainly true that schools are designed to establish a certain level of normalcy among their students. A student studying a standard curriculum, frequently mingling with their neighbors, will almost necessarily be more “normal” than somebody who, say, was homeschooled in a cabin on the prairie.

There is certainly a strength in “weirdness”—the ability to see things differently, to think outside normal paradigms, and perhaps even to push society forward. But there is such a huge social and economic benefit to normalcy that I think it would be remiss in educators not to try to at least guide students in that direction. And, in any case, a certain social baseline is obviously necessary if people are to live and work together.

Whether educated at home or in a public school, however, becoming a working adult requires most of us at least the ability to appear “normal”—dressing and acting in ways that fall within some margin of acceptability. True, the range of what is considered acceptable is growing wider in some respects, particularly in terms of appearance, as dress codes become less formal and, for example, tattoos become more common.

But in other respects, such as what opinions can be expressed without fearing an adverse reaction, I don’t think that we are any more tolerant of weirdness now than we were in the past. And given that reality, it behooves most of us to lose the “prejudices of a young mind,” as Austen says, and adopt the pleasantries of an adult brain to get along in life.

Yet this isn’t the whole story. Another thing I’ve noticed as I’ve gotten older and more “normal” is that, at a certain point, people regress into weirdness. Specifically after retirement, I’ve noticed (not to point fingers at anyone in particular) that people can develop zany opinions and odd behavioral ticks. It is as if it is only the constant pressures of school and then work are what keep people “normal,” and as soon as those pressures ease off, the weirdness comes rushing back. And, to keep to Jane Austen’s theme, this weirdness often manifests itself in prejudices and opinions that are far from “general.”

One might think that a lifetime of experience might insulate one’s mind against nonsense. But the passing years seem to make many people, if anything, more susceptible to unrealistic or outrageous beliefs.

I suppose it is not a novel observation that older folks can fall victim to scams, conspiracy theories, or simple superstition. But I do find it mildly depressing that age, far from conferring wisdom, can involve becoming unpresentable at parties. 

To put the language in Jane Austen’s terms, while the prejudices of a younger mind may be “amiable,” those of an older mind are typically quite the reverse. But I suppose both deserve sympathy, if for different reasons.

Review: The Grand Alliance

Review: The Grand Alliance

The Grand Alliance by Winston S. Churchill

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Churchill’s account of the Second World War continues. I am finding that these volumes have a kind of cumulative power, which far exceeds that of any single volume. As I slowly make my way through the war, month by month, campaign by campaign, theater by theater, the mind-boggling scale of the conflict is beginning to sink in. What would be major operations in other wars are here mere side-shows or diversions. To pick just one example, if the Anglo-Iraq war were to happen today, it would be considered a momentous event that dominated the news. But in the context of World War II, it hardly even registers.

Merely keeping track of all this—the troop strengths, the ships available to the Navy, the number of serviceable aircraft, all distributed literally around the globe—would strain any military organization today. Two silly but revealing examples illustrate just how many different places Churchill had to keep in mind. He insisted that Iceland be written with a (C) after it, so that it could never be confused with Ireland (R). And he also preferred that Iran be called “Persia,” since otherwise somebody might confuse it with Iraq. The very idea that people might mix up what countries to attack or defend I think says more about the scale of the War than any superlative could.

But the military organization is only half of the equation. For Churchill is always acutely aware of the political situation, in ways that strictly military commanders are not.

To pick a simple example, Churchill has occasion to criticize a general for putting a British regiment in a relatively safe zone, while sending colonial forces into battle—for the apparently superficial, but politically real, reason that it reflects poorly on the British government. Indeed, Churchill’s frustrations with General Auchinleck’s hesitations to attack Rommel in North Africa reminded me very much of Lincoln’s own admonishments to George B. McClellan to be more aggressive. In both cases, the political leader realized the value of at least appearing to have the initiative. Appearances are important when you are courting potential allies and public opinion.

Like Manny, I was also impressed by Churchill’s willingness to put politics aside in order to win the war. Few politicians in Britain, I imagine, were less sympathetic to Soviet Communism than Churchill. But as soon as Hitler made his great error and commenced Operation Barbarossa, Churchill did not hesitate to send vital supplies and equipment to his former foe, even though it weakened his own position—correctly predicting that a strong Russian defense would debilitate the German army. The tense and sometimes downright rude correspondence between Stalin and Churchill was especially interesting to read. Even then, at the beginning of their alliance, the Cold War was looming ahead.



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