Link Together All Cells of Resistance

Bertolt Brecht, from a manuscript folder for Saint Joan of the Stockyards, c.1929–31. Courtesy the Bertolt Brecht Archive, Akademie der Künste, and Raven Row, London

Fifty years ago, the German radical journal Kürbiskern asked several prominent dramatists about the theatre scene and the relationship between art and politics. One of the respondents was the German-Swedish writer, painter, and filmmaker Peter Weiss (1916–1982), who achieved fame in the 1960s for a series of provocative plays about the French Revolution, the Frankfurt Auschwitz trials, and colonial oppression in Angola. Weiss wrote his response in the wake of the failed uprisings of 1968, amid the ongoing war in Vietnam, and at the beginning of research for his magnum opus, the three-volume antifascist novel The Aesthetics of Resistance (1975–81). Building on his programmatic “10 Workpoints” (1965), this piece is Weiss’s definitive statement on the role of art in class struggle. It addresses the responsibility of writers, actors, and directors toward their audience and toward the content of their art. The following translation has been edited for length and layout: the journal’s questions are presented in interview format.[1] 

Kürbiskern: What is the relationship between politically engaged theatre and the choice of themes, material, and characters?

Weiss: In theatre that aims to change society—primarily we are talking about change within bourgeois society—everything is, of course, influenced by this aim. Not only must we break through the structures of hierarchical class society, which reveal themselves in bourgeois municipal theatres. Not only must we overcome the usual divisions between the “planners” up in the administrative offices, the directors, the dramaturges, the actors, and the technicians (including everyone who works on set or in the studio). But also, the selection of plays, the mode of presentation, and the act of searching for a new public all play a fundamental role […]

My personal experience with politically engaged theatre is varied. One must also distinguish between theatres in the Federal Republic of Germany and theatres in Scandinavia, for example. Theatre for the elite, as it exists in some capitalist countries, has already been undermined in Sweden. At Swedish municipal theatres, there is hardly any separation from the working population anymore. Instead, large segments of working people go to theatre shows, art exhibitions, and other cultural events. State subsidies make tickets affordable, and subscription performances plus traditional education have sparked interest in artistic productivity. Moreover, besides the large established theatres in Sweden, there are many small mobile theatre groups that are highly effective and have collaborated on socially critical plays, for example about a labour strike in the mines of northern Sweden, about the Volvo car factory, or about the attack on the communist newspaper Norrskensflamman during World War II (an event that revealed Swedish fascist tendencies).

Besides mentioning the important transformation of theatre’s internal structures, one can say the following in response to your question: programmatic aims alone cannot change the situation. Instead, we must grapple with a totality of ideas, visions, and practical approaches. I am referring to the fact that plays by the Greek tragedians, the Elizabethans, the Naturalists and Symbolists of the 19th century, and the Expressionists and clear partisans of our time can all contribute to changing our consciousness. 

Decisive in this process is the manner in which the performance is worked out, both by training the ensemble and by preparatory research. In contrast to theatres in socialist countries, what bourgeois theatres generally lack is precisely this careful preparatory work, in which the play is examined for its social content, its actual significance, and the social relations expressed through its characters. The commercial pressure on most theatre productions in capitalist countries often prevents analysis of the play, in which naturally all performers must participate. The best efforts of directors, actors, set designers, and technicians are all too often wasted trying to find time for rest and discretion. These efforts are then frustrated by theatre management, which itself is under a lot of pressure [...]

We must proceed from the fact that, everywhere today, we are addressing people in an enlightened age. What constrains cultural activity is the notion that artists have to offer mundane and familiar themes to people who are busy all day in industry, the workshop, or sales. From my own experience and from what many comrades have told me, I know that audiences are touched and moved by every work of art that reveals true conflicts, dramatic situations, desires, ambitions, etc. I deliberately say “work of art,” because I believe that in theatre work, we have to strive as much as possible for high artistic form and execution. A statement addressed to a large number of attendees must aspire to be tenable, genuine, and convincing as a whole. Nothing can be good enough for working people who want to take possession of culture.

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Kürbiskern: A series of recent plays portrays blue-collar and white-collar workers […] In your estimation, what are the main criteria for representing workers? 

PW: One of the best performances of this sort that I saw recently was Vsevolod Vishnevsky’s play Optimistic Tragedy (1933) in the theatre at Hallesches Ufer, Berlin. In exemplary fashion, it expressed in concrete terms the attitudes of workers, soldiers, and revolutionaries. In this narrative of a crisis situation [i.e., the formation in 1918 of the first marine regiment of the Red Army – translator’s note], both the powerful set design and the precise emphasis on relationships between characters, their gestures, and their factional alignments created so much tension that the audience constantly had the impression of witnessing a great historic event [...]

But again, theatre that addresses wageworkers or that wants to exist primarily for working people—and that tries to change its structures according to this perspective—by no means requires plays about workplace conditions. No more than the writer wants to see only writers on stage, or the philosopher only philosophers, does the worker want to see only a performance of people like him. We sometimes even feel a little embarrassed when we see that. The depiction of a worker all too easily turns into a mere example or cliché. Sometimes such depictions can seem exotic, as if workers were something special and were being exhibited for viewing in our project. More important than such a “working-class setting” is the portrayal of a revolutionary process, as in for example Bertolt Brecht’s plays Señora Carrar’s Rifles (1937) and Life of Galileo (1943). 

Today, in our effort to create a broad anti-imperialist front, it is all the more necessary to overcome the boundaries between occupational groups and to reveal the cooperation that exists between people from the most diverse backgrounds. The struggle against class society, exploitation, and colonialism plus the strengthening of solidarity: that is one theme for us. And in developing this theme everything depends on showing how various people act, what mutual misunderstandings may arise, how people learn to understand each other, and what actions may result. I say that it is just one theme, because it does not need to be drawn out endlessly: with the correct staging, a play by Chekhov, Ibsen, or Strindberg is likewise capable of conveying perspectives that lead toward a changed world. 

Kürbiskern: Sex and violence occupy a dominant role in many plays. What is the function of these themes?

PW: I have little use for the domineering sex and violence often on display in contemporary plays. In special cases, such as several plays by the Spanish writer Fernando Arrabal or a few performances by the New York-based Living Theater, such discharges can be conducive to an attempt at liberation. Wild frenzy is sometimes a necessary part of the theme. All too often, however, these works laden with emotions hide the work of consciousness: you may be satisfied with the achieved effects, which are sometimes thrilling, but in the end nothing changes. 

While they necessarily belong to any picture of society, outbursts of sex and violence that feature oppression, coercion, intimidation, and brutality can have their absolute dramatic function. But they must be explained in terms of where the roots of such reactions lie and what they are supposed to achieve. If this is not done, then sex and violence become ends in themselves, that is, mere entertainment. But, if a dramatic scene manages to represent cruelty, savagery, and obsession as primitive and desperate forces that, under different conditions, may be used for positive ends, then it should perhaps be considered a “cleansing process.” Personally, though, I prefer the Brechtian approach of denying catharsis.

In this age of fascist human extermination and of terrorist crimes committed by US imperialism, it is more important for us in theatre and in all artistic work to always let reason prevail. We must never abandon ourselves to blind and fatalistic currents of thought. For every plot to which we give form, we must rather think of its direct applicability to the political struggle. That is, without needing to be propagandistic, we must keep in mind that our work should help clarify our circumstances and not further obscure them.

The extent to which we also use aspects of dreams, the irrational, and utopia is for each to decide—I do not want to deny any of these things. Again, most essential is the overall approach of the creator, and the degree to which he puts his activity at the disposal of forces seeking the social and political transformation of the world.

Kürbiskern: Everyone is always talking about the concept of “target audiences.” Do you consider it necessary or even possible to write for a defined target audience?

PW: Since theatre work is a universal science, certain target audiences have the nature of research experiments. Like agitprop theatre after the October Revolution, or like the troupes that visited the front in Vietnam and performed the latest short plays in the foxholes, our group theatres perform in poor parts of town, in factories, in schools, etc. They are extraordinarily useful, not only for sparking discussions and calling people to action, but also for preparing a reawakening of theatre as a popular medium. Many performances of my plays Song of the Lusitanian Bogey (1967), Mockinpott (1963/68), and Night with Guests (1963) took place outside the usual theatres, for example in sports arenas, open plazas, libraries, town halls, or prisons.

Kürbiskern: The Federal Republic of Germany still has state-subsidized theatres. What possibilities does this offer you for progressive theatre productions?

PW: The relationship between a socialist playwright and a bourgeois theatre can only be ambivalent. My theatre work though is not directed exclusively at the institutions of capitalist countries: almost all my plays reach an audience in socialist countries too. Regarding cooperation with bourgeois theatres, however, the main concern today of all progressive theatre workers is the renewal of the production apparatus, that is, its transformation from a rigid authoritarian model into a democratic unit. All serious theatre forces can attest to how difficult this is. Because a generally conservative city administration, or at least one that is fearful and politically dependent, will, of course, oppose any radicalism coming from the stage. In bourgeois society, theatres operating as cells of exhortation, direct influence, awakening, or mobilization can only be seen as dangerous.

What I mean is that it would be unrealistic to expect an institution that absorbs so much tax-payer money to get automatic approval for fighting against all the old shit openly. In bourgeois theatre houses, one has to work covertly, cunningly, and with extraordinary patience. The objection that a socialist author should stay away from bourgeois theatres is completely false. People have often objected to my work in this way, especially anarchist groups but also extremely dogmatic groups that want to condemn all cultural institutions of bourgeois society. If you can pull it off, I think it is better to force onto these stages a play with a politically progressive theme, even while knowing that there have to be some compromises.  

The main thing is that most bourgeois theatres still currently lack an ensemble that, given enough time and training, could do the preparatory research needed for the performance. In my experience, the best potentials go unrealized. Directors, set designers, and actors often sense how much they are victims of an industry. They know that they cannot fully realize their own plans and notions. In the best moments there arises something like the solidarity felt occasionally by workers in an occupied factory. But under pressure from the reactionary external situation, success is always fleeting; one must always begin again from scratch.

One constantly hears the call for a new audience or a new public. This corresponds of course to the exposed situation in which the progressive theatre forces find themselves. But can this problem be solved at all by the theatre? Do we not need a basic pedagogical and social reorientation before we can start overcoming the rotten prejudice that art belongs only to educated people, rich people, privileged people, and intellectuals? Do we not first need to radically renew politics before the theatre can be renewed?

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For me, theatre is only a limited bastion within a broader political front. Sometimes individual actions can succeed there, at least in providing suggestions to the audience. Frequently, we do not see those people in the theatre whom our writing chiefly addresses. We write for the people in a scientific age, yet we are aware that the violence, cheating, and plundering of labour power is still so great that most people lack the energy for a confrontation with works of art.

What this amounts to is that the theatre—like the university, the school, the library, and the museum—must be constantly hounded as an institution. We cannot stop working to push through new ways to shape and present plays, as well as new ways to organize collective labour within the ensemble. That is how we expand our audience. Our activity can be effective only if we see it in relation to political work. 

The great value of target audiences is that they allow us to give immediate dramatic expression to current political issues: here the theatre functions as a forum for direct enlightenment, be it in a dispute over wages, in issues brought up during a strike, in discussions about housing conditions, in connection with street actions, in an appeal to join a protest, etc. For their part, the large established theatres can place local problems within a bigger picture and draw out values that outlive the demands of a particular present situation. 

So, one should not make a qualitative distinction between these two forms of theatre: the tasks of both forms—on the one hand, the mobile theatre that fiercely confronts external events, and on the other hand, the fixed and closed room that is visited by spectators—are of equal value and importance. They complement each other, just as in visual art drawing complements painting. And while these various techniques in drama are related internally to each other, all cultural activity by people who want to change society is related closely to political circumstances. 

Theatre alone cannot change society. Used correctly, however, it can strengthen tendencies that give rise to broad movements in the population. By means of provocation, vivid synopsis, and accentuation of isolated phenomena, theatre can become a weapon in a cultural totality that raises consciousness, educates, and facilitates organization for the struggle to overthrow class society.

Kürbiskern: What role does mainstream criticism in the national press and television play for theatregoing and for the author?

PW: Criticism here has the same task as progressive theatre work. Some critics support efforts at creating a new theatre as a harbinger of a new society. Many others who are jaded, tired, and arrogant take a neutral stance. Critics should participate much more in practical theatre work to learn about the conditions in which performances are made. Surely, they would then give a positive account of the numerous efforts to change the whole cultural apparatus. What usually happens instead is that they prefer their own vain superiority, thinking they know better.

As for mass media in print and television, this huge and consolidated instrument of reactionary power poses the greatest obstacle to the educational work of engaged art. Here too one must distinguish between individual countries: once again I want to contrast the conditions in Sweden with those in the Federal Republic of Germany. Suffice it to say that the Swedish media openly and consistently denounced the crimes of US imperialism in Indochina, whereas the news media and government in West Germany obviously defended the policies of the US administration.

The purpose of mass media is to sedate and deceive the population from dawn till dusk. Overcoming this obstacle requires an effort that can only yield results if it successfully links together all cells of resistance.

Stockholm, 30 January 1973

Translated by Terence Renaud