The Aesthetics of Nazi Architecture

Bryan Ferry has been castigated recently, for his comments regarding Nazi architecture.

According to press reports, the 61-year-old told the Welt Am Sonntag newspaper last month: “The way that the Nazis staged themselves and presented themselves, my Lord!

“I’m talking about the films of Leni Riefenstahl and the buildings of Albert Speer and the mass marches and the flags. Just fantastic – really beautiful.”

Ferry has since apologised, but this hasn’t stopped campaigns for him to be dropped as the one of the public faces of Marks and Spencer. Nor has it stopped people who are unable to look at the past objectively from peddling their outrage in the press. Victoria Coren writes in today’s Observer:

A few days later, amid calls for him to lose his lucrative modelling contract with Marks & Spencer, the donkey-brained singer has apologised, explaining that his remarks were made ’solely from an art-history perspective’.

Why stop at art history, Bryan? If we’re going to praise the Nazis, let’s really praise them. Those guys were seriously high achievers. They weren’t just racists, they were incredible racists. They didn’t just kill a few Jews, gypsies, Russians, Poles and homosexuals, they killed millions of them. They weren’t just a bit sniffy about handicapped people, they actually conducted experiments on them. They built up their camps to an impressive pan-European chain – the Costa Coffee of torture! Credit where credit is due.

It should go without saying that any right-thinking person considers the Nazi regime abhorrent. It shouldn’t be necessary to have to enumerate the reasons why it is abhorrent, and why society should be alert to make sure that fascist movements don’t rise again. At the same time, however, that doesn’t mean that every single thing that the Nazis did was abhorrent and should never happen again. Nor does it mean that there aren’t aspects of the Nazi record in power that we can look at and think of as a genuine achievement – getting the German economy to experience such growth so soon after hyperinflation and the Wall Street Crash took some doing. There are all sorts of debates and arguments about the propriety of the means that they used to achieve those ends. But that doesn’t mean that the ends can’t be viewed objectively either.

I would have thought that the case was even easier as far as Nazi iconography goes. For however much art is reflective of the social principles of its creators, however much art reflects political attitudes of its time, our first reaction is always to appreciate the aesthetic quality of the piece of art before us. When I first saw Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire, or Bill Reid’s The Raven and the First Men, my reaction had nothing to do with the hidden themes in the work (although in both cases there are many). They took my breath away simply because they were beautiful to behold. Both works of art convey in their images great craftsmanship, and invite further reflection on humanity in general. That is why I still cherish looking at them. Yet were it not for the “wow” factor, I wouldn’t have pondered further on them at all. And the same is perhaps even more true of architecture.

Is it possible to separate aesthetic beauty from political content? Coren asserts in her article that “In the case of Thirties German iconography, it is nearly impossible to divorce the two.” Yet I would be amazed if Coren thought it at all remarkable to question the artistic merit of the Colosseum. How does she think that was built, if not for the exploitation of labour on a massive scale? There are aspects of the Renaissance that weren’t all that pretty – religious conflict on a continental scale, for example – yet that doesn’t stop us hailing the artistic achievements of those who were a product of that ferment. It is perfectly possible to hail a work of art as brilliant while despising those who created it, or the political philosophies that they espoused.

Why is it wrong to admire Speer’s architectural plans for the capital of Germania as a model of grand town planning, yet acceptable to consider the Colosseum a wonder of the world? The answer must surely lie in the proximity of the Nazi regime to our modern age. While we are still in the presence of those who survived the Holocaust, while the international political projects of Europe still have as their key reference point World War Two, while those born in Germany after the war can still remember the national embarrassment of Hitler’s Reich, our emotional reactions to anything connected with Nazism are strong. That, in many ways, is a good thing, if it guards against the rise of any similar regime in the future.

But it is not a constructive way of looking at the past. We cannot hope to gain anything from a study of the past if we are too quick to categorise things as “good” or “evil”. It is possible to create things of real, lasting beauty through evil means. We should be proud to say that we reject the philosophy that led to many of the creations of the Third Reich. But that shouldn’t stop us from recognising that they are, in themselves, beautiful.

Guns Don’t Kill People, People Do

There’s a number of things that I want to write about regarding the tragic incidents at Virginia Tech on Monday. I don’t have quite enough time to do them full justice at the moment, but I do want to commit to writing a few preliminary thoughts. It didn’t take long at all before the news of the massacre in Blacksburg sparked off a heavily political debate regarding the right to bear arms. It’s only natural that such a debate is re-ignited at a time like this, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel that it’s counter-productive.

The fact, as regrettable as it is, is that someone who is sufficiently determined to cause the sort of carnage seen on Monday will be able to get their hands on some kind of deadly weapon. It’s only those with significant mental health problems who do cause such tragic occurrences. And, unless the world is suddenly going to stop arms production and concrete over its existing weaponry, then these things will occur. Moreover, even if guns were banned, similar atrocities could be caused with all kinds of other weapons – some (like knives) easier to stop; others (like poison gas or bombs) even more potentially deadly and indiscriminate in their effects. Suggesting that gun control would stop these atrocities is a false argument; it might make them harder, but people as disturbed as the Blacksburg killer evidently was will find a way. Moreover, gun control in Britain, tightened further since the Dunblane tragedy, has persecuted those who want to use guns for legitimate recreational purposes whilst doing little to stop their increased use in organised crime. Laws, particularly general laws made in response to particular circumstances, can have unintentional consequences.

The other difficulty in thinking about gun control at a time like this is that it is easy to see our cultural norms as “superior” because tragedies like this seem less common; because the carrying of a gun in America is visible and, in many cases, almost ubiquitous. That doesn’t mean that portraying Americans as backward or wrong for their desire to carry guns is fair; nor does it mean that legislation that makes perfect sense in a largely urban European setting can fit easily upon gun culture in America. Yes, American belief in the freedom of gun ownership is very definitely an exceptionalist part of their character. That doesn’t mean it is per se wrong. Goldie Lookin’ Chain may have been satirical when saying guns don’t kill people, rappers do. But guns don’t kill people on their own – they need someone pulling the trigger.

Saul Cornell, in his superb recent book “A Well Regulated Militia” (which I’ll refer to later in the week, too), writes:

It is unrealistic to imagine a gun-free America. Nor is it realistic to expect Americans simply to accept that inordinately high levels of gun violence are simply the price of freedom. 

As hard as it is to not have a knee-jerk emotional response when you consider the human tragedy that unfolded in the classrooms of Virginia this week, there is a real need to step back from the emotional excesses of the debate. Gun control advocates must be careful not to portray all gun users as evil. The vast majority aren’t. Nor should the gun rights lobby be averse to having to prove a little more about their background, and have a little more regulation on what guns they are allowed to use. After all, just as the desire to use guns is perfectly legitimate, so are anxieties about not being on the receiving end of a stray bullet. The debate needs a little bit of perspective.

I guess it won’t surprise you to learn that I think a bit more thinking historically about the subject would go a long way. But that’s something that will be discussed later in the week here.