Owen D.
May 6th, 2008, 05:19 AM
Austria And Evil
by Theodore Dalrymple (May 2008)
The case of Josef Fritzl has evoked many lively, one might even say enthusiastic and joyful, animadversions on the Austrian national character.
It was no coincidence, said the finger-pointers, that it should be in Austria, land of Die Fledermaus, Mozart-kugeln and Gemutlichkeit in general, in which so extraordinary a case should have occurred.
Fritzl, a 73 year-old retired electronic engineer, imprisoned his own daughter, Elisabeth, in a specially-constructed cellar of his house for 24 years, raped her repeatedly and had seven children by her, all born in there without medical assistance. One of them died very young. Three of them, aged 5, 18 and 19, had never in their lives left the cellar, their only contact with the outside world being through television – perhaps the only service that television has rendered humanity.[..]
Suspicion of Austria runs deep, and with good reason. Everyone thinks (though it cannot be proved or disproved) that Kurt Waldheim, the former Secretary-General of the United Nations, was elected president of the country not in spite of his Nazi past, but because of it. The Austrians claim that they insisted on voting for him because they resented the hypocritical reaction of the outside world to his candidature - surely, they said, powers with the combined intelligence resources of the United States, the Soviet Union, Britain and France must have known of his Nazi past when they accepted him as Secretary-General, so why should the Austrians themselves not accept him as President? Once again the Austrians were able to conceive of themselves as the injured party in the whole business.
Even the Austrian prohibition of Holocaust denial, under which the British Nazi-supporting historian David Irving was (in my view wrongfully) imprisoned until he recanted, or at least pretended to recant, is ambiguous. On the one hand, of course, it is a recognition of the moral monstrosity of what the Nazis did, and of the Austrians’ special responsibility for it; but on the other, it implies a deep mistrust of the Austrian people, who (it must have been feared by those who framed the law) might recant their anti-Nazism if they could.
Of course, there have been Austrians who were deeply disgusted by their countrymen. The greatest Austrian writer of the post-war period, Thomas Bernhard, inserted a famous clause in his will that repays reflection. He ordered that, for the duration of his legal copyright after his death, nothing he had ever written, including his plays, should ever be published or performed:
within the borders of the Austrian state, however that state
describes itself. I categorically emphasize that I want to have
nothing to do with the Austrian state and I safeguard myself
concerning my person and my work not only against every
interference but also against every approach by this Austrian
state to my person and my work for all time to come.‘For all time to come:’ that is a pretty strong injunction, implying as it does that the Austrian soul, or whatever you want to call it, is so tainted by its original sin, or sins, that it is irrecoverably and irremediably evil. And Austria’s recent Nobel Prize winner for Literature, Elfriede Jellinek, does not seem to have a much higher opinion of Austria than did Bernhard.
http://www.newenglishreview.org/custpage.cfm/frm/19706/sec_id/19706
by Theodore Dalrymple (May 2008)
The case of Josef Fritzl has evoked many lively, one might even say enthusiastic and joyful, animadversions on the Austrian national character.
It was no coincidence, said the finger-pointers, that it should be in Austria, land of Die Fledermaus, Mozart-kugeln and Gemutlichkeit in general, in which so extraordinary a case should have occurred.
Fritzl, a 73 year-old retired electronic engineer, imprisoned his own daughter, Elisabeth, in a specially-constructed cellar of his house for 24 years, raped her repeatedly and had seven children by her, all born in there without medical assistance. One of them died very young. Three of them, aged 5, 18 and 19, had never in their lives left the cellar, their only contact with the outside world being through television – perhaps the only service that television has rendered humanity.[..]
Suspicion of Austria runs deep, and with good reason. Everyone thinks (though it cannot be proved or disproved) that Kurt Waldheim, the former Secretary-General of the United Nations, was elected president of the country not in spite of his Nazi past, but because of it. The Austrians claim that they insisted on voting for him because they resented the hypocritical reaction of the outside world to his candidature - surely, they said, powers with the combined intelligence resources of the United States, the Soviet Union, Britain and France must have known of his Nazi past when they accepted him as Secretary-General, so why should the Austrians themselves not accept him as President? Once again the Austrians were able to conceive of themselves as the injured party in the whole business.
Even the Austrian prohibition of Holocaust denial, under which the British Nazi-supporting historian David Irving was (in my view wrongfully) imprisoned until he recanted, or at least pretended to recant, is ambiguous. On the one hand, of course, it is a recognition of the moral monstrosity of what the Nazis did, and of the Austrians’ special responsibility for it; but on the other, it implies a deep mistrust of the Austrian people, who (it must have been feared by those who framed the law) might recant their anti-Nazism if they could.
Of course, there have been Austrians who were deeply disgusted by their countrymen. The greatest Austrian writer of the post-war period, Thomas Bernhard, inserted a famous clause in his will that repays reflection. He ordered that, for the duration of his legal copyright after his death, nothing he had ever written, including his plays, should ever be published or performed:
within the borders of the Austrian state, however that state
describes itself. I categorically emphasize that I want to have
nothing to do with the Austrian state and I safeguard myself
concerning my person and my work not only against every
interference but also against every approach by this Austrian
state to my person and my work for all time to come.‘For all time to come:’ that is a pretty strong injunction, implying as it does that the Austrian soul, or whatever you want to call it, is so tainted by its original sin, or sins, that it is irrecoverably and irremediably evil. And Austria’s recent Nobel Prize winner for Literature, Elfriede Jellinek, does not seem to have a much higher opinion of Austria than did Bernhard.
http://www.newenglishreview.org/custpage.cfm/frm/19706/sec_id/19706