When Thomas Mann held his Deutsche Ansprache in Berlin's Beethoven Hall in October 1930, only a few weeks had passed since the NSDAP had risen from 3 to 18 percent in the Reichstag elections. The otherwise aloof writer felt compelled to speak out publicly and take a stand. He issued an urgent warning about the National Socialist movement and appealed to reason and humanity. For him, it was clear that there were "hours, moments ... in which the artist ... cannot continue because ... a crisis-like distress of the general public also shakes him in such a way that the playfully passionate immersion in the eternally human, which we call art, becomes psychologically impossible." Even during the speech, he was attacked by SA men with heckling. It was a scene that seemed like a warning sign: irritability, aggression, a society on the brink of collapse.
Thomas Mann during his speech German Address: An Appeal to Reason on October 17, 1930, in the Beethoven Hall in Berlin. Mann stands at the left edge of the picture at the lectern and looks into the audience, which turns away from him and looks toward the back of the hall. The photograph shows the tense atmosphere during the speech, which was disrupted by National Socialist hecklers. © Ullstein Bild Dtl.
Almost a hundred years later, this historical situation was revisited at the Beethovenfest in Bonn. "Everything seems permissible against human decency" or "The great irritability" was the programmatic title of the event. Thomas Mann Fellowship scholars discussed the question: What does the author of The Magic Mountain have to say to us today?
Luisa Imorde began by playing the Arietta from Beethoven's Op. 111 – the work that Thomas Mann used in Doctor Faustus as a metaphor for the destruction of classical forms and as a symbol for the end of an era.
The great irritability
Friedhelm Marx was the first to recall the dual nature of the term "irritability" in Thomas Mann's work. In The Magic Mountain, it appears as a seething underlying social sentiment that leads to the catastrophe of World War I. In the Berlin Speech, it becomes a diagnosis of a society entangled in aggression and resentment. "Mann refuses to give simple answers," said Marx. "Great irritability can be a harbinger of catastrophe, but it can also collapse in on itself, out of exhaustion, out of weariness. This openness is what makes his texts so relevant today."
Polarization as structure
Nils C. Kumkar translated this diagnosis into the language of sociology. Polarization, he explained, is not an exceptional state in democracies, but structurally normal—the tension between government and opposition. "What is new is that the extreme right has managed to occupy a fixed pole in this game. Today, it is almost impossible to talk about society without asking what the extreme right is doing with it." For Kumkar, this is the real danger: not irritability itself, but the dominance created by the right-wing pole.
Courage at the right moment
For Steven Walter, artistic director of the Beethovenfest, Thomas Mann's relevance was primarily a question of attitude. "Thomas Mann was a ninja of words, a nested clause killer, a sniper with adverbs," and the writer used this linguistic power against SA disrupters in 1930. Even as a teenager, Tonio Kröger had "caught" him. Today, he is fascinated by the fact that Mann did not remain silent at the decisive moment, but took a risk. "Despite his privileged circumstances, he took the risk of publicly opposing National Socialism. Many others did not manage to do that. The question is: Where is the moment today when we must do something?"
The construction of an icon: Who is "our" Thomas Mann?
Cultural journalist Aida Baghernejad opened up a meta-reflexive level: "Which Thomas Mann are we actually talking about when we celebrate him today? The aesthete, the citizen, the anti-fascist?" For her, it is a social decision whether to remember texts such as the German Address or the open letter Why I Am Not Returning to Germany – or whether to simply enjoy the linguistic beauty of Buddenbrooks. Especially in the year of his 150th birthday, she said, it is important to take the author seriously in all his contradictions.
Working through instead of revival
During the discussion, moderated by Andreas Platthaus (FAZ), Marx reminded the audience that the monarchist man of Reflections of an Unpolitical Person never completely disappeared. Kumkar interpreted this as proof that political attitudes do not arise ex nihilo, but through constant readjustment. Mann's politicization was a process of "working through" – a form that is also instructive for today's democratic processes. "The monarchist Thomas Mann does not simply disappear. Politicization is a group sport. For Thomas Mann, his children, his brother, and his daughter were very important. Democracy is a group sport."
The shattered novel
Doctor Faustus, the great novel of exile, was the subject of particularly intense debate. In it, Mann combined music, literature, and politics—while at the same time revisiting German Romanticism, which had descended into hysterical barbarism. Long criticized as overly ambitious, the novel is now being reinterpreted as an attempt to capture the cultural roots of National Socialism in literary form. "It breaks the mold, just as Beethoven broke the mold of the sonata," said Marx. "Thomas Mann wanted to show that what happened between 1933 and 1945 had a prehistory. It was not an accident of German history." In Germany, the novel was not initially a success – "because people didn't want to hear it."
The house of open doors
Walter also talked about his time in Pacific Palisades. "I set myself the task of throwing open the doors and inviting as many people as possible. Everyone could relate to Thomas Mann. I hadn't thought that transatlantic relations would become so important again."
Today, the house serves as a sounding board – for remembrance, but also for current debates about endangered democracy.
Finally, Platthaus asked the fellows: Which Thomas Mann texts accompany them?
Baghernejad chose the political speeches: "Home is always about opposition and struggle. To see that even a great mind had settled into this struggle – that is a comfort."
Walter returned to Buddenbrooks: "I read it for the first time under palm trees in California – it was a full-circle moment."
Kumkar chose Mario and the Magician: "Because of the early observation of fascist tendencies and the seductive power of authoritarianism."
Marx confessed to The Magic Mountain: "It has such a steady atmosphere, I feel at home there."
The refusal of simple answers
When Luisa Imorde played the Arietta once more at the end, Marx's central insight echoed: "Man refuses simple answers. Great irritability can be a harbinger of disaster, but it can also collapse in on itself – out of exhaustion, out of weariness. This openness is what makes his texts so relevant today."
Perhaps this is the answer to Baghernejad's opening question: we don't need just one Thomas Mann, but all his facets – the aesthete as well as the fighter, the doubter as well as the believer. His texts force us to decide again and again where we stand.
An evening that Thomas Mann would have enjoyed: with more questions than answers – and with the certainty that asking questions is already a start.