Religion without Content in Robert Musil’s Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften

2020 ◽  
Vol 41 (2) ◽  
pp. 105-120
Author(s):  
Thomas R. Bell

Religion and science, war and peace, love and hate, chance and determinacy – these are a few of the many topics Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften (Vol. 1, 1931 / Vol. 2 Part 1, 1933)1 – an unfinished philosophic and poetic masterpiece spanning more than one thousand pages – addresses, as it communicates the narrator’s efforts to think more precisely and more accurately about elemental aspects of the human experience. In his monumental tome, Robert Musil presents numerous figures who espouse a broad range of ideas proliferating within the society of “Kakanien”, representative of the Habsburg Empire in 1913/1914. Musil’s fictional rendition of this milieu focuses particularly on the intellectual mood pulsating throughout Austro-Hungarian society during the twelve months preceding the outbreak of World War One; the novel’s first paragraph ends with the following statement: “Es war ein schöner Augusttag des Jahres 1913” (9). In July of the following year, mayhem breaks out. What were people thinking before the violence erupted? What influential ideas were proliferating and, indeed, may have been adopted prior to the catastrophe known as the Great War? Meticulously and perspicaciously, Musil textually articulates – and experiments with – those concepts permeating throughout the pre-war Austro-Hungarian empire, in order to investigate which of them may have been fallaciously used and, consequently, led to the ensuing disaster. Simultaneously, through his narration, he offers an aesthetic framework for considering the possibilities of more refined thinking, which, if embraced and actualized, may have brought about a more intellectually consistent society that would have been able to stave off the horrific crisis that occurred. Contextually, it is important to keep in mind that he writes about 1913/1914 from the perspective of 1931/1933: the “Weimarer Republik” and the “Erste Republik Österreich” are both on the verge of dissolution; fascism in Germany and Austria is on the rise; and the “Militarisierung Deutschlands” is readily evident.2 Musil is keenly aware of the similarity in circumstances. For this reason, he projects the failures apparent in the late 1920’s and early 1930’s back onto 1913/1914, when the Habsburg Monarchy and the German Empire could not provide a counterforce to the developing war machine.3 Writing in the shadow of a past war and with the looming sense of imminent danger, Musil generates impassioned essays,4 endeavoring to think in an informed, dynamic, and new manner about the situation in which he finds himself, hoping that his exploration of ideas will actualize the dissemination of peace.5

Author(s):  
Alan Fowler

A source of historical evidence whose value has attracted greater attention in recent years is the newspaper cartoon, which Alan Fowler draws on in his essay on the Lancashire writer and comic performer, Sam Fitton, a popular cartoonist on the Cotton Factory Times, the weekly newspaper of Lancashire cotton operatives, published between 1907 and 1917. Fitton’s work has been largely overlooked by historians and Fowler makes a valuable contribution to the biographical scholarship on British cartoonists, using Fitton’s cartoons on the home front to explore a neglected aspect of World War One history, the conditions and preoccupations of Lancashire cotton workers. Fowler places these within the broader context of the Lancashire cotton industry with which Fitton, himself a cotton worker, was very familiar, and draws attention to the richness of these cartoons as a regional source whose evocation of a sense of belonging and place among its Lancashire readers was very different from the civic pride exemplified by the local history societies and public statuary of the Victorian period, on which Kidd and Wyke focus.


2019 ◽  
Vol 63 (1 (464)) ◽  
pp. 129-140
Author(s):  
Maciej Górny

The article describes the newer works devoted to the occupation of Polish lands, especially of Warsaw during World War I. Recently, this subject, so far neglected, has drown the attention of numerous scientists, both from Poland and from abroad. Their point of view is different not only from the older perspectives, but also from the perspectives of slightly newer works on the other occupied areas and emphasizing the connection between the experience of the Great War and genocide during World War II. In the most precious fragments, the new historiography gives a very wide image of social life, in which the proper place is taken by previously marginalised social groups. Differently from the older works, the policy of the occupants on the Polish lands is not treated only as a unilateral dictate, but rather as a dynamic process of negotiation, in which the strength and position of each of the (many) sides has been changed. And, this change is accompanied by the new arrangements concerning almost all aspects of the German policy and the conditions of living during World War I.


Author(s):  
Roger Smith

When the German poet Ernst Lissauer published his anti-English poem “Haßgesang gegen England” in the early weeks of the First World War, the effect was electric. The poem, translated into English and dubbed the “Hymn of Hate,” echoed around the globe, reaching as far as New Zealand where newspapers sedulously followed its international reception and published local responses. Given the nature of New Zealand’s relationship to Britain and the strength of the international press links, it is not surprising that news of the poem reached New Zealand in the early months of the war. However, the sheer volume of coverage given to a single German war poem in New Zealand’s press over the course of the war and after, as well as the many and varied responses to that poem by New Zealanders both at home and serving overseas, are surprising. This article examines the broad range of responses to Lissauer’s now forgotten poem by New Zealanders during the Great War and after, from newspaper reports, editorials and cartoons, to poetic parodies, parliamentary speeches, enterprising musical performances and publications, and even seasonal greeting cards.


Author(s):  
Mariusz Guzek

Polish film life in the Eastern Borderlands of the former Republic of Poland is replete with numerous white spots. During World War One, however, activity was quite intense, as evidenced by book-length studies on Vilnius, Lviv and even Kiev. Minsk, the future capital of Belarus, also had its own film-related Polish culture. The article focuses on the functioning of Minsk cinemas and their repertoire, as well as the Polish accents associated with them, which repeatedly had a mobilizing and identitarian character around which the national community of this provincial city was organized. Minsk’s border status means its cinematographic ancestry can be claimed by various national cinematographies, including Russian and Belarusian, but the source query and resulting findings clearly indicate that in the years of the Great War, this center was most strongly associated with Polish culture


2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
◽  
Coralie Clarkson

<p>The focus of this thesis is the lives of New Zealand's returned Great War soldiers. This thesis explores the experiences of men who did not successfully repatriate as a counterpoint to the experiences of those who did, and argues that men's return to New Zealand and their post war lives were shaped by many factors including access to employment and good health. Many returned soldiers were able to resume their lives on return and led relatively happy and successful lives. For these men, their success seems to have come from the ability to find or resume employment, good health, family support, and financial support. For those who did not, one or more of these factors was often missing, and this could lead to short or long term struggle. The 1920s form the backdrop of this thesis, and were a time of uncertainty and anxiety for returned men and their families. The disillusionment of the 1920s was exacerbated by men's nostalgia for New Zealand which they built up during the war. Tens of thousands of men returned to New Zealand from war with dreams and hopes for the future. The horrors of war had given men an idealistic view of peaceful New Zealand, and dreams of home comforts and loved ones had sustained these men through their long absence. For those who returned to find life difficult, the idealistic view of New Zealand as a land of simplicity and happiness would have been hard to maintain. Chapter 1 demonstrates the idealisation of New Zealand and 'home' built up by soldiers and their families during the war. Chapters 2, 3 and 4 use the lenses of employment, illness – specifically tuberculosis – and alcoholism to argue that for many men and their families, the 1920s were an extension of the anxieties and separation of the Great War years. Sadly, for some, their lives were forever marred by the spectre of war and what their absence from home cost them.</p>


2021 ◽  
Vol 1 (72) ◽  
pp. 365-380
Author(s):  
Liviu CORCIU

The century that passed over the memories of the Great War, as it was called in the era, should allow all of us, no matter what side we had chosen at that time, to think on allaspects of the day-by-day life in the frontline. And to admit as well, that not all the soldiers and officers who had taken part in, were heroes. They were normal people, with hearts and feelings, trapped in an abnormal environment, fighting for their side of “King and Country” against all destructive means of the industrial war. So, it was of great importance to maintain a proper discipline among those troops which were sent day after day in slaughter attacks. And for this reason, was used the military justice and the Code of military justice, named differently by country, but having the same role: to support the war effort. One of the supportive elements was the preemptive effect, the deterrence of any potential act of breaking the discipline. Equally counted the way this contribution came into effect.Keywords: military justice; discipline; court martial; world war; war effort.


2015 ◽  
Vol 6 (3) ◽  
pp. 83-95
Author(s):  
John Maynard

This paper seeks to aid and open further discussion on the impact upon Aboriginal communities and lives during and after World War One. We now know that over a thousand Aboriginal men enlisted and went overseas to fight for their so-called country during the Great War and that many made the ultimate sacrifice. But what was happening at home to their families and communities whilst they were away? Did they receive just recognition on their return home? These are some of the questions this paper will reveal and analyse.


2021 ◽  
Vol 0 (0) ◽  
Author(s):  
Bérénice Zunino

Abstract Auch nach dem Waffenstillstand wird der Erste Weltkrieg in der Berliner Illustrirten Zeitung (BIZ) – einem der ersten illustrierten Massenblätter – weiter thematisiert. Bei der Untersuchung dieses mediatisierten Krieges wird der Frage nachgegangen, was diese Bilderwelt über die fortschrittlichen Erwartungen, Ängste und Hoffnungen in der Weimarer Republik aussagt. Dabei geht hervor, dass die BIZ nach der anfänglichen Bekundung eines gewissen Wohlwollens gegenüber den ehemaligen Feinden zu Beginn des Jahres 1919 bald in einen bitteren Ton umschlägt, als die Friedensbedingungen bekannt gegeben werden. Diese enttäuschten Hoffnungen haben die kulturelle Demobilisierung der BIZ erschwert. Eine Zeit lang werden Themen der Kriegspropaganda weiter behandelt, bevor diese illustrierte Zeitschrift im Laufe der 1920er Jahre zum künstlerischen Ausdrucksort der Trauer um die Opfer des Krieges wird und dabei versucht, die Wunden des Krieges zu heilen. Letztlich zielt die BIZ aber weniger darauf ab, die Erinnerung an den Krieg wach zu halten, als vielmehr als Sprachrohr eines pazifistischen und republikanischen Diskurses zu fungieren. Après l’armistice, la Première Guerre mondiale continue à être traitée dans la revue illustrée d’actualité générale, politique et culturelle qu’est la Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung (BIZ). Sur la trace de cette médiatisation de la guerre, nous interrogeons ce que ces représentations « disent » des attentes, des peurs et des espoirs des contemporains progressistes de Weimar. Il ressort qu’après avoir diffusé une certaine bienveillance à l’égard des anciens ennemis début 1919, la BIZ s’aigrit à la suite de l’officialisation des conditions de paix. Sans doute ces espoirs déçus ont-ils compliqué la démobilisation culturelle de la BIZ, qui continue un temps à se faire le relais du discours de guerre, puis tente par l’expression artistique, tout au long des années 1920, de panser les plaies du deuil. Finalement, la BIZ ne cherche pas tant à entretenir la mémoire de la guerre qu’à promouvoir un discours pacifiste et républicain. After the armistice, World War One remained an important topic in the Berliner Ilustrirte Zeitung – an illustrated magazine devoted to general, political and cultural news. Analyzing its coverage of the war allows us to address what these representations have to say about the expectations, fears and hopes of Weimar progressives at the time. After showing some benevolence towards former enemies at the beginning of 1919, the BIZ grew more acrimonious when the terms of the peace treaty became official. These disappointed hopes certainly made the cultural demobilization of the BIZ more difficult. The magazine continued to relay the war rhetoric for some time, before trying to tend to the wounds and ease the mourning through artistic means. Eventually, the BIZ did not seek to preserve the memory of the war, but rather to promote a pacifist and republican way of thinking.


Author(s):  
Patricia O'Brien

This chapter explores the family history of Ta’isi, the course of his marriage, the birth of his six children to Rosabel and the bringing into his family unit of his first born daughter, Lucy. It tracks the economic rise of Ta’isi as a businessman in the Sāmoan Islands and the prominent role he took to as an interlocutor with German administrators about the running of German Samoa. It then tracks the seismic effects of World War One and its aftermath on Sāmoa. World War One brought an abrupt end to German rule that was replaced by a New Zealand military occupation in 1914. The effects of the Great War were both enormously beneficial to Ta’isi as a businessman, but it also brought the devastating aftermath of the 1918 influenza epidemic that killed over 20% of Samoa’s population, including Ta’isi’s mother, sister, brother, sister-in-law and his beloved only son. This chapter traces these events and their effects on Ta’isi, showing how they led him into an activist role within Sāmoa.


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