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UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI
April 23
03
_____________
, 20 _____
David James Prickett
I,______________________________________________,
hereby submit this as part of the requirements for the
degree of:
Doctorate of Philosophy (Ph.D.)
________________________________________________
in:
Germanic Languages and Literatures
________________________________________________
It is entitled:
"Body Crisis, Identity Crisis: Homosexuality and Aesthetics
________________________________________________
in Wilhelmine- and Weimar Germany"
________________________________________________
________________________________________________
________________________________________________
Approved by:
Dr. Katharina Gerstenberger
________________________
Dr. Todd Herzog
________________________
Dr. Klaus Mladek
________________________
Dr. Martin Wechselblatt
________________________
________________________
BODY CRISIS, IDENTITY CRISIS:
HOMOSEXUALITY AND AESTHETICS
IN WILHELMINE- AND WEIMAR GERMANY
A dissertation submitted to the
Division of Research and Advanced Studies
of the University of Cincinnati
in partial fulfillment of the
requirements for the degree of
DOCTORATE OF PHILOSOPHY (Ph.D.)
in the Department of German Studies
of the College of Arts and Sciences
2003
by
David James Prickett
B.A., University of Cincinnati, 1993
M.A., University of Cincinnati, 1999
Committee Chair: Dr. Katharina Gerstenberger
Abstract
The following study inquires into the emergence and development of homosexuality in
German medical, legal, and social discourses from the turn of the last century through the
Weimar Republic. Literary works, medical journals, homosexual journals, visual art, and film
from the turn of the last century to the early thirties reflect a growing “gender crisis”
throughout German society. Such primary media provide the data for this study. Of
particular interest are the works, theories, and the person of Magnus Hirschfeld, a physician
whose politics were social-democratic and who was of Jewish background.
Hirschfeld was himself homosexual, but never portrayed himself as such due to the
legal and political climate of his times. Having published extensive studies on homosexuality,
hermaphroditism (today’s “intersexual”), and transvestism, Magnus Hirschfeld was an
established sexologist in Wilhelmine Germany. In 1919, Hirschfeld founded the world’s first
Institute for Sexual Science in Berlin. This Institute was a site of research, consultation, and
therapy for those who sought enlightenment in sexual matters including birth control,
venereal disease, intersexuality, and homosexuality.
This project examines the dissemination and reception of Hirschfeld’s progressive
theories both inside and beyond the medical community—indeed, how homosexuals
themselves responded to Hirschfeld’s project of normality. This response, which I term the
“modernist homosexual aesthetic,” is the basis of my thesis. The “modernist homosexual
aesthetic,” an aesthetic, self-affirming expression of male homosexual identity, arises from
this period of gender crisis in Germany, and is that aesthetic force that not only defines but
is defined by the homosexual male body. I maintain that the media of photography,
literature, and popular journals disseminated this aesthetic among those who sought to
define themselves simultaneously outside normative gender roles and in a positive manner. I
Abstract
Body Crisis, Identity Crisis: Homosexuality and Aesthetics in Wilhelmine- and Weimar Germany
take care to examine the ambivalence surrounding the discourses that played a role in the
emergence of homosexuality during this period in Germany. Such discourses include (1)
medical pathology, (2) aesthetics, and (3) criminology. Finally, I maintain that these
discourses were not separate unto themselves; rather, the narrative, visual, and theoretical
construction of the homosexual relied on an interplay of said discourses.
Preface
The following study inquires into the emergence and development of homosexuality in
German medical, legal, and social discourses from the turn of the last century up through the
Weimar Republic. Of particular interest in this study are the works, theories, and indeed the
person of Magnus Hirschfeld, a physician whose politics were social-democratic and who
was of Jewish background. Hirschfeld was himself homosexual, but never portrayed himself
as such due to the legal and political climate of his times. Having published extensive studies
on homosexuality, hermaphroditism (today’s “intersexual”), and transvestism, Magnus
Hirschfeld was an established sexologist in Wilhelmine Germany. In 1919, Hirschfeld
founded the world’s first Institute for Sexual Science in Berlin. This Institute was a site of
research, consultation, and therapy for those who sought enlightenment in sexual matters
including birth control, venereal disease, intersexuality, and homosexuality.
Literary works, medical journals, homosexual journals, visual art, and film from the
turn of the last century to the early thirties reflect the growing “gender crisis” throughout
German society. Such primary media provide the data for this study. While I primarily
consider myself to be a Germanist, during the course of this project I have worn the hats of
the Historian, the Art Historian, and the Semiotician. In developing my own analytic
“voice,” I have relied on critical theory ranging from Barthes to Butler, from Foucault to
Freud, from Riviere to Theweleit. What is of interest to me is the method in which these
theoreticians analyze the subject’s position in a narrative. I in turn utilize this theoretical
method in my analysis of various narratives—be the narrative a text from Hirschfeld, a novel
from Klaus Mann, or an act-photo of the 1920s. In analyzing said media, I examine the
dissemination and reception of Hirschfeld’s progressive theories both inside and beyond the
medical community—indeed, how homosexuals themselves responded to Hirschfeld’s
project of normality.
This response, which I term the “modernist homosexual aesthetic,” is the basis of
my thesis. The “modernist homosexual aesthetic,” an aesthetic, self-affirming expression of
male homosexual identity, arises from this period of gender crisis in Germany, and is that
aesthetic force that not only defines but is defined by the homosexual male body. I maintain
that the media of photography, literature, and popular journals disseminated this aesthetic
among those who sought to define themselves simultaneously outside normative gender
roles and in a positive manner. I take care to examine the ambivalence surrounding the
discourses that played a role in the emergence of homosexuality during the period in
question. Such discourses include (1) medical pathology, (2) aesthetics, and (3) criminology.
Finally, I maintain that these separate discourses were not separate unto themselves; rather,
the narrative, visual, and theoretical construction of the homosexual during the period in
question relied on an interplay of said discourses.
As Foucault and others1 have established, homosexuality was primarily understood
as pathology until the turn of the last century. This model of homosexuality arose with the
gendering of the individual—or more specifically, the gendering of “man”—that began with
the mid-eighteenth century debate on masturbation. Around 1800, not only was the
“healthy” individual differentiated from the “sick” individual, but also the penis and the
vagina were defined as two autonomous genitalia (the vagina had been defined previously as
“the inverted penis”).2 Therefore, whereas “man” was once seen as an autonomous and
“gender-neutral” individual who was molded by “culture,” and “woman” was seen as
“gender” and as “fertile ground” for reproduction, “man” came to be understood as a
specifically gendered individual. Not only this, but “man” became the “norm” vis-à-vis the
construction of a decidedly deficient, “weibliche Geschlechtsidentität” (Mehlhorn 96).
By 1840, the “sick” or “deficient” nature of the homosexual biological male was
defined via his feminine nature as “die Figur des Weichlings” (Mehlhorn 108). Medical books
archived case studies and measured individuals along a bell-curve model of normality. Such
conceptions about those on the margins of the medical bell-curve were not only formed and
spread by language, but also by the new medium of photography. For contemporary
thinkers, the photograph provided unquestionable, visual proof of the external physical
stigmata of the social outsiders’ undesirable inherited traits. Like case studies and criminal
cases, photographs of individuals who exhibited similar traits were organized by type: the
prostitute, the pocket-picker, the homosexual.3 This new “visual discourse” contributed
greatly to medical and criminological discourses, which were understood only by the medical
and legal experts who constructed them.
Before 1900, the heterosexual, the homosexual, and the variations that existed in
between these polarities were defined purely in terms of a person’s sex and gender, terms
which were understood on a one-to-one basis: biological males were by definition
“masculine” in behavior and appearance, while biological females exhibited “feminine”
traits. In order to legitimize homosexuality, Hirschfeld had to find a category for
homosexuals somewhere within the schema of respectable heterosexuality; somewhere
among the masculine male and the feminine female.
Already in the 1860s and 1870s, the lawyer and outspoken homosexual Karl Heinrich
Ulrichs had published twelve booklets that comprised the series Forschungen über das Rätsel der
mannmännlichen Liebe (Herzer, Magnus 103). Ulrichs not only suggested that homosexuality
was a natural, inborn occurrence, but also conceived the figure of the Urning (Uranier,
Uranian), a “third sex” who was defined by a “spiritual hermaphroditism.” Ulrichs’s model
became the basis of Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory, which he published anonymously in
Sappho und Sokrates: Wie erklärt sich die Liebe der Männer und Frauen zu Personen des eigenen
Geschlechts (1896).
Magnus Hirschfeld believed that homosexuality certainly was not the norm, but that
it was a natural occurrence. As such, the German legal system could not legitimately
criminalize homosexuality. Hirschfeld’s work is born of an ethical impulse, as would be
evidenced by his Institute’s motto, per scientiam ad justitiam (through science to justice).
Hirschfeld does justice to gender and self-perception with his Third Sex Theory, which
recognizes “sex” and “gender” as autonomous, measurable terms. This important
differentiation between “sex” and “gender” allows for alternative gender structures, and thus
a person’s biological sex no longer determines his/her “appropriate” gender.
The basic premise of the theory is that human sexuality and sex drive can be
measured both qualitatively and quantitatively. Qualitatively, the sex drive can be defined as
“A” heterosexual, “B” homosexual, or “A + B or C” bisexual (9). Quantitatively, the sex
drive can be measured on a scale from one to ten. One to three denotes a “scheinbarer Mangel”
and frigidity; a “weak,” “feminine” drive. Four to seven on the scale denotes a “normal,”
“cool to very warm,” “adaptable” sex drive (9). “Wilde Gier,” “uncontrollable,” “strong,” and
“masculine” is a sex drive between eight and ten (9). Hirschfeld explains:
Wir würden demnach beispielsweise einen Mann, der nur für Frauen
empfinden kann, und zwar leidenschaftlich, unter A,9. eine Frau, die nur für
Frauen fühlt, und zwar nur diese nur kühl, unter B 4. zu rubrizieren haben.
Zwitter, die zu beiden Geschlechtern in mittlerem Grade neigen, hätten wir
mit A 5 + B 5. und solche, die dem anderen Geschlecht nur wenig, ihrem
eigenen in wilder Begierde zugethan sind, mit A, 3. + B. 9. zu bezeichnen.
Aus dieser Einteilung erhellt sich die u n e r m e ß l i c h e M a n n i g f a l t i g k e i t d e r G e s c h l e c h t s n e i g u n g e n. (10)
The above quote illustrates the two-sided nature of the Third Sex Theory. Although radical
in suggesting a wide “middle ground” between traditional heterosexual sex, orientation, and
gender, the Third Sex Theory was not exempt from contemporary “masculine” and
“feminine” gender constructs. Truly, it was not Hirschfeld’s intention to erase the “normal”
gender poles of “male” and “female”: a patriarchal gender discourse is the basis of
Hirschfeld’s reassessment of gender roles. As Judith Butler indicates, “[t]he presumption of a
binary gender system implicitly retains the belief in a mimetic relation of gender to sex
whereby gender mirrors sex or is otherwise restricted by it” (10).
The first chapter offers the reader an analysis of Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory via
visual examples in his 1906 study Geschlechts-Übergänge. In this work, Hirschfeld combines
photography and text to prove the existence of hermaphrodites in German society. Since
Hirschfeld is able to provide visual and textual “proof” of the existence of hermaphrodites,
he argues that the Law Code of 1900 must be amended to include persons of “indeterminate
sex” among “men” and “women” in order to secure the rights of those citizens. The
subversive structure of Hirschfeld’s photographic message is analogous to the interrogation
of the relation of sign to signified in Barthes’s essay, “The Photographic Message.” The sign
becomes performative: for Hirschfeld, it is not important that the photographed subject is a
man or a woman, but how the subject performs his/her gender. It is the materiality of the
gesture that is of interest to Hirschfeld, which he in turn enters into a catalogue. The subject
embodies various catalogues of gestures and performances, which are indexed and crossreferenced by scientists, sociologists, criminologists, and even artists.
Whereas the first chapter investigates individual testimonies of homosexuals as
reported by Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, the second chapter analyzes the beginnings of a selfdetermining homosexual identity in the photography, poetry, and prose of homosexual
journals such as Adolf Brand’s Der Eigene and Friedrich Radzuweit’s Die Insel. Based upon
the repetition and reproduction of gestures and poses in photography and the exchange of
these images among homosexual journals, I argue that the images in said journals comprise
an iconographic language. This “language,” expressed in poses and settings taken from the
art of Ancient Greece, lent homosexual photography an air of respectability, thus including
the homosexual aesthetic within accepted cultural tradition. To this end, I compare the
development of masculinity in homosexual visual art and mainstream visual art from the
androgynous ideal of the turn-of-the-century to the virile and “masculine” soldier figure in
the latter part of the 1920s.
Hirschfeld’s theories were still well-known and discussed in the Weimar Republic.
However, by the end of the twenties, models of homosexuality based on the Classical ideals
of male friendship and male beauty in contemporary homosexual journals such as Der Eigene
would supercede Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory. By the mid-twenties, the polarization of
genders was once again entrenched both in the homosexual and heterosexual spheres,
evidencing a reversal in hetero- and homosexual German society against Hirschfeldian
thought. This re-polarization was largely caused by Germany’s defeat in the First World War,
the return of impotent and/or disabled soldiers from the war front, and the resulting
exclusion of women in the workplace as men resumed their civilian lives. Around 1924, five
years after the end of the War, newly-erected war memorials celebrated the German soldier
as a hero. This myth of the German soldier as the “virile” man was important in “restoring”
not only traditional gender and sex roles in the German population, but also the “virility” of
the weakened German nation.
This soldier figure is the focus of the third chapter, which discusses accounts of
homosexuality and the German soldier. The focus also shifts from visual homosexual self-
representation to textual homosexual self-representation. Three texts, each of which
belonging to a different genre and period, are examined in this chapter. The first belongs to
the category of the Großstadt-Dokument: Magnus Hirschfeld’s Berlins Drittes Geschlecht (1904).4
Among accounts of homosexual night life and society in Berlin are reports of “virile”
soldiers and their “effeminate” homosexual partners. In his report, Hirschfeld erases the
erotic element of such relationships. In doing so, the soldier’s masculine gender remains
unquestioned, and his masculinity is defined via the effeminate nature of the homosexual,
who may or may not be a prostitute. Actual accounts of homosexual soldiers from the War
front that were published in 1915 and 1916 in special volumes of Hirschfeld’s Jahrbuch für
sexuelle Zwischenstufen comprise the second genre. Such reports undermine the masculine
Körperpanzer of the German soldier and suggest that one’s status as a soldier must not
necessarily be a measure of his virile masculinity. Finally, Bruno Vogel’s novel Alf (1929)
consists of several narrative levels, most important of which are the homosexual selfactualization of the protagonists Felix Braun and Alf Maartens and a deconstruction of the
masculine narrative of the Father vis-à-vis Felix’s self-determination as a homosexual. Of
interest in this study is the novel’s epistolary chapter, which is comprised of Felix’s and Alf’s
letters. These letters are written while Alf is at the Western Front. Based on parallels in the
dates and contents of the letters, it is my hypothesis that the reports in Hirschfeld’s Jahrbuch
inspire the narrative and the characters of Bruno Vogel’s novel.
Despite the self-actualization of a homosexual community in Germany both pre- and
post-World War I, §175 continued to marginalize the homosexual element as a type that was
both asocial and criminal:
§ 175 lautet: “Die widernatürliche Unzucht, welche zwischen Personen
männlichen Geschlechts, oder von Menschen mit Tieren begangen wird, ist
mit Gefängnis zu bestrafen, auch kann auf Verlust der bürgerlichen
Ehrenrechte erkannt werden” (“§ 175 gefallen!”)
Just the same, corrective discourses that were intended to keep such societal outsiders on the
margins of society were no longer accessible only to those in legal and medical professions.
As public interest in “popular science” grew, many of these societal outsiders began to learn
of these discourses and thus gained “knowledge” about themselves. The societal outsiders—
be they Hochstapler, prostitutes, homosexuals, or all of the above—knowingly performed
their prescribed roles and thereby undermined this knowledge through performative parody.
This would not only challenge the prevailing distinctions between the “respectable”
bourgeoisie and the societal outsiders, but also threatened the success of Hirschfeld’s
normalization of the homosexual vis-à-vis medical and legal discourses.
The final chapter presents the reader with a “topographical study” of
homosexuality—or of the homosexual topoi that also shaped the figure of the male
homosexual in Berlin from 1920-30. I base my investigation on passages from Klaus Mann’s
Der fromme Tanz (1925) and Friedrich Radszuweit’s Männer zu verkaufen (1930). As a point of
departure for my analysis, I have chosen Michel de Certau’s essay “Walking in the City” to
illustrate (1) how spaces are delineated in Weimar-era writings and (2) how homosexuals that
are portrayed in each text define themselves not so much by visual cues, but rather by the
places that they frequent. As de Certau writes, the City (here, Berlin) is that through which
“[. . .] the possibility of space and of a localization (a ‘not everything’) of the subject is
inaugurated” (109).
The fact that there was no single, united homosexual emancipation movement from
the nineteenth century to the early 1930s in Germany has been well-researched and welldocumented. The goal of this study is not to provide another empirical historical narrative,
but rather a sound analysis of the mechanisms and discourses to make such politics
possible—those discourses which, taken together, provide the basis for the (self-)
development of the homosexual in Germany between the publication of Hirschfeld’s Sappho
und Sokrates in 1896 and Radszuweit’s Männer zu verkaufen in 1931.
Further, it is not important that the German homosexual emancipation movement is
German, but rather that it is the first international homosexual movement. This cultural
memory can be shared by all who do not fall within the strict heterosexual norms that still
fashion many societal codes worldwide. In his Introduction to the reprint of Hirschfeld’s Die
Homosexualität des Mannes und Weibes (1914), scholar Erwin J. Haeberle mentions Hirschfeld’s
interest in the United States, his visit there in 1893, and the lectures and interviews that
Hirschfeld gave in 1930-31 in New York, Chicago, Detroit, Los Angeles, and San Francisco
(vii). As the gay rights movement took hold in the United States following the 1969
Stonewall uprising, the Americans “[. . .] stießen [. . .] unvermeidlich auf Hirschfeld und
entdeckten unter anderem, daß er schon 1897 in Berlin die erste “Gay Rights”-Organisation
gegründet hatte – das Wissenschaftlich-humanitäre Komitee” (Haeberle vii). It is therefore no
coincidence that James Steakley’s 1975 study The Homosexual Emancipation Movement in
Germany appeared when it did.5 At this time, solidarity among homosexuals not only made
homosexuality visible, but also demanded a (re)construction of a homosexual cultural
memory as a sort of legitimization of the movement. This shared memory was (and is) based
on one’s sexual orientation rather than on one’s nationality.
In the past decade there has been a resurgence of interest in Hirschfeld’s aesthetics
of ambiguous sex and gender. Having redefined gender discourse among Western
intellectuals, Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble (1990) stands as the primary example of a
reexamination of traditional fe/male roles. Among several references to Butler, Thomas
Meinecke’s 1998 novel Tomboy cites Hirschfeld and his theories. Meinecke’s characters
include a “compulsive heterosexual” woman, a “feminine” heterosexual male who collects
women’s purses, a bisexual female tennis player, a lesbian doctoral candidate, and her
intersex lover Angela/Angelo, who has subscribed to “the Catholic women’s magazine
Monika, because s/he ‘just wants to be a woman’” (dust sleeve). Anne Fausto-Sterling’s 2000
study, Sexing the Body is a medical-sociological study that strives to break down “Dueling
Duelisms” of “male” and “female” and champions the rights of intersexuals. She mentions
Hirschfeld as that German reformer and homosexual rights advocate, who “[. . .] considered
the male invert to be hermaphroditic in both mind and body” (288). As evidenced by the
above, gender performance and sexual (in)determination continue to provoke discussion and
defy societal conventions almost a century after the publication of Hirschfeld’s GeschlechtsÜbergänge.
In sum, this study should provide a model for the writing of new historical studies of
the period in question, as it concerns itself with multiple media and how the interplay of
these media transformed discourses involving homosexuality. It is my hope to provide the
reader a clear picture of the narrative, visual, and theoretical constructions of the
homosexual and the fascination/disgust that surrounds these—both from the respectable
bourgeoisie and also from the homosexual outsiders, to whom Hirschfeld’s work was largely
dedicated.
Acknowledgments
It was in Dr. Katharina Gerstenberger’s Jahrhundertwende seminar of Fall Quarter 1997 in the
Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures at the University of Cincinnati that I
first heard the name “Magnus Hirschfeld.” As a result of this seminar, two things became
clear: I knew that Magnus Hirschfeld would be a focus of my dissertation and that I wanted
Dr. Gerstenberger to be my Doktormutter. I would like to thank Dr. Gerstenberger for
agreeing to be my Doktormutter, for her continual support throughout my career as a graduate
student, and for her valuable guidance with this project. Even in 2002, relatively few faculty
on American campuses “dare” to discuss homosexuality, and I applaud her for her strong
and open support of Queer Studies within German Studies. I am also indebted to Drs. Todd
Herzog and Klaus Mladek of the Department of German Studies and Dr. Martin
Wechselblatt of the Department of English at the University of Cincinnati, who have served
not only as careful readers on my Committee, but also as crucial information sources
throughout the duration of this project. Dr. James Steakley (U of Wisconsin, Madison)
helped me get a good footing during initial stage of my project, and even provided me with a
copy of Hirschfeld’s film Anders als die Andern.
Through the generosity of the Taft Fund at the University of Cincinnati, a Taft
Grant (2001-02) not only provided the opportunity to spend a research/writing year in
Berlin, but also the chance to present portions of chapters 1 and 2 in Cambridge (UK) and
in Den Haag (Netherlands) respectively. Virginia Illy and Marita Grospitsch of the Berlin
German-American Women’s Club helped me to find lodging and to quickly situate myself in
Berlin.
My research year in Berlin was a successful one largely due to the Magnus Hirschfeld
Society: I worked closely with Ralf Dose, Dr. Rainer Herrn, Jens Dobler, Andreas Pretzel,
Andreas Seeck, and Harald Rimmele. Without their support and guidance, I would still be
searching for much of the first-hand material and the necessary documentation that support
my hypotheses. Dr. Rainer Herrn not only provided me with source material from his private
collection and office space in which to review this material at my leisure; he also offered
secondary materials referenced throughout this work as well as his own personal knowledge
of the source material.
In addition, I would like to thank Dr. Birgit Dahlke of the Humboldt Universität zu
Berlin not only for her helpful criticism and suggestions for source material, but also for
allowing me to present my findings in her seminar “Konstruktionen und Krise von
Männlichkeiten” (Wintersemester 2001-02). Drs. Bettina Mathes, Christina von Braun, and
Inge Stephan of the Humboldt U, Berlin, gave critical feedback on my project hypotheses as
well as important secondary materials. Deniz Güvenç, Dr. Jennifer Kelley-Thierman, Dr.
Brian Rose (Classics Department, U of Cincinnati), C. Isabelle St. Amand, and Dr. Richard
Schade (German Studies, U of Cincinnati) are also to be thanked for offering secondary
materials and/or for their critical input.
For his never-ending and unconditional love and support, I thank Sebastian
Pasdzior, to whom this work is dedicated.
Berlin, March 26, 2003
Notes to Preface
1
See MELHORN.
See LAQUEUR.
3 See SEKULA.
4
“One of the most ambitious and sustained efforts to account for the novel
premises of the industrial city was undertaken along the border of literature and sociology by
Hans Ostwald, whose edition of fifty pamphlet-sized Grossstadt-Dokumente between 1904 and
1908 ranks along side Charles Booth’s volumes on London and the collected works of the
Chicago School of Sociology. [. . .] the significance of the Grossstadt-Dokumente lies in the
diversity of the thirty-odd contributors he assembled” (FRITZSCHE 387).
5 HAEBERLE cites STEAKLEY’S Homosexual Emancipation as one of the “[. . .] erste,
bescheidene Publikationen in englischer Sprache [. . .]” that made Hirschfeld’s achievements
“[. . .] weiteren Kreisen bekannt und wirkten so auf Deutschland zurück” (vii).
2
1
Contents
List of Figures...............................................................................................................………... 2
Chapter 1
Magnus Hirschfeld and the Photographic (Re)Invention of the “Third Sex.”............... 4
Chapter 2
Against the “Uranian Petticoat”:
On Homosexual Aesthetics and Self-Fashioning................................................................ 38
Chapter 3
On War and Self-Determination:
Sexing and Gendering the German Soldier on the Home and War Fronts.................... 99
Chapter 4
“Tales from the City”:
Defining Identity via Homosexual topoi................................................................................. 170
Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………… 232
Works Cited................................................................................................................................. 241
2
List of Figures
Chapter 1
Fig. 1. “Gynandrie (sexus incertus).” (Tafel IX.)………………………………………… 13
Fig. 2. “Pseudohermaphroditismus masculinus bei überwiegen männlichem Habitus
(Error in sexu) [Friederike S.].” (Tafel III.).……...……………………….…… 19
Fig. 3. “Gynäkomastie.” (Tafel XI.)…………………………………………………… 25
Fig. 4. GLOEDEN, Two Youths on Seat. (ca. 1900)..…………………………………… 27
Fig. 5. Photographic subjects of Hirschfeld (Tafel XIX.).
Illustration: POTHS, Spring. (1905). ……………………………………..…… 28
Fig. 6. “The male, the Average Type male-female, and the female figure.”
(Tafel XVII.)………………………………………………………………... 30
Fig. 7. “Androtrichie (feminae barbatae).” (Tafel XIV.)………………………………….. 32
Chapter 2
Fig. 8. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Der Eigene 6 (1906): 151. ………………… 52
Fig. 9. Photographer Unknown. “Abb. 434, 435. Berlin 8626 [Dornauszieher].”
WIEGAND. …………………………………………………………….……. 54
Fig. 10. JAEGER. No Title. Die Insel 4.5 (1929): 20. …………………………………. 57
Fig. 11. “Lotte am Scheideweg.”............................................................................................. 59
Fig. 12. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Die Insel 4.4 (1929): 9. …………………. 62
Fig. 13. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Text: KEPPLINGER. ………………….… 65
Fig. 14. Photographer Unknown. “Sehnsucht.” Die Insel 3.1 (1928): 9. .…………….. 67
Fig. 15. Photographer Unknown. “Ballspiel.” Poem: SCHUBERTH. ....………………. 69
Fig. 16. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Poem: BONCOURT. ……………………. 71
Fig. 17. SCHNEIDER. “Donar.” ………………………………………………….….. 73
List of Figures …
Fig. 18. Photographer Unkown. No Title.
Die Insel 1.3 (1926): 9; Die Insel 3.11 (1928): 329. .................................................. 76
Fig. 19. BRAND. “Aus der Sammlung DEUTSCHE RASSE.
Aktstudie von Adolf Brand.” ................................................................................... 77
Fig. 20. BRAND. No Title. Der Eigene 10.4 (1920): 155. …………………….……..… 80
Fig. 21. “Wandervogel-Geschichten.”………………………………………………. 81
Fig. 22. BRAND. “Aus der Sammlung DEUTSCHE RASSE.
Kopfstudie von Adolf Brand.” ................................................................................. 83
Fig. 23. Photographer Unknown. No Title.
Der Eigene: Ein Blatt für männliche Kultur 11.11 (1927). Cover. ………………... 85
Fig. 24. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Die Insel 4.3 (1929): 5. ………………….. 86
Fig. 25. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Die Insel 1.2 (1926): 5. ………………….. 88
Fig. 26. Lutz. “Der Gefangene.” Die Insel. 2.7 (1927): 13; Die Insel 4.2 (1929): 5;
Die Insel 5.6 (1930): 21. ……………………………………………………... 89
Chapter 4
Fig. 27. Alexanderpalais—Bund für Menschenrecht. Advertisement. Die Insel 2.6
(1927): 30. …………………………………………………………………. 175
Fig. 28. “Zeichnung von W. Krain.” Rpt. in Hans Ostwald, Sittengeschichte der
Inflation: ein Kulturdokument aus den Jahren des Marksturzes. ……………………. 186
Fig. 29. “Zeichnung von W. Krain.” Rpt. in Hans Ostwald, Sittengeschichte der
Inflation: ein Kulturdokument aus den Jahren des Marksturzes. ……………………. 187
Fig. 30. Unsere Geschäftsstelle. Advertisement. Die Insel 2.7 (1927): 29. ……………. 193
Fig. 31. Photographer Unknown. “Männer zu verkaufen.” Die Insel Dez. (1930):
Cover. ………………………………………………………………………196
Fig. 32. Photographer Unknown. “Männer zu verkaufen.” Die Insel Jan. (1931):
Cover. ………………………………………………………………………197
3
4
Chapter 1
Magnus Hirschfeld and the Photographic (Re)Invention of the “Third Sex.”
Introduction: Gender, Sex, and Sexual Orientation in Degrees
On the cover of Dr. med. Magnus Hirschfeld’s Geschlechts-Übergänge (1906) are two fields of
text. The first—a quote from Leibniz—renders the mysterious title even more esoteric:
“Motto: Tout va par degrées dans la nature et rien par sauts.” In contrast, the second text at
the left of the cover promises the reader “[. . .] 83 Abbildungen und eine Bunttafel.”1 These
visual aids, among which are photographs, help the reader to better understand the
“degrees” rather than the “leaps” in which gender crossings reveal themselves in human
form. In this first chapter, these photographs are understood and analyzed as an intersection
of the political, gender, and aesthetic discourses that constitute early twentieth-century
German visual culture.
Photography is key to Hirschfeld’s analysis of sex and gender. The photograph acts
as testimony, as narrative, and as memory of those who stood at the periphery of patriarchal,
heterosexist German society. Whereas Krafft-Ebing and many of his contemporaries had
once classified such photographic subjects under the rubric of Psychopathia Sexualis, for
Hirschfeld, his photographic archive would represent merely a sub-category—a degree—of
natural human sexuality.2 Hirschfeld’s project is in essence a textual and visual construction
of the Third Sex. His construction is crucial in order to embody and empower these previously
unclassifiable
subjects
within
a
wider
cultural
context,
thus
developing
a
homosexual/hermaphroditic “subject.” However, as Judith Butler writes,
[o]n such a model, “culture” and “discourse” mire the subject, but do not
constitute the subject. This move to qualify and enmire the preexisting
subject has appeared necessary to establish a point of agency that is not fully
determined by that culture and discourse. And yet, this kind of reasoning falsely
presumes (a) agency can only be established through recourse to a
prediscursive “I,” even if that “I” is found in the midst of a discursive
5
convergence, and (b) that to be constituted by discourse is to be determined by
discourse, where determination forecloses the possibility of agency. (182)
From extensive research on the part of feminist scholars, it has already been determined that
Charcot’s photographic archive and Freud’s narratives reenacted past trauma of individual
patients visually and verbally, respectively. As medical experts who created their own medical
discourses, Charcot and Freud exercised a great degree of control over their respective
patients, “Josephine” and “Dora.” Although his work was dedicated to the well-being and
legal rights of his patients, Magnus Hirschfeld, as a medical doctor, was not completely
innocent of a “will to wisdom” that translates all too easily to a “will to power.” While I in
no way presume or propose that Hirschfeld’s study reveals a sinister side to the
“humanitarian physician,”3 I do believe that a critical analysis of the ambivalence
surrounding Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory and his doctor/patient relationships is in order.
Hirschfeld’s homosexuality also places him in an ambivalent position somewhere
between subject and object of study. This is not to say that Hirschfeld was deconstructing
gender roles with the aim of erasing the bipolar gender model of “male” and “female”—this
would be a postmodern assessment. Nevertheless, the interplay of word and text in
Hirschfeld’s study challenges the long-held medical notion that a healthy individual performs
gender solely according to his/her biological sex. Although certainly progressive in nature,
Geschlechts-Übergänge exemplifies how Hirschfeld’s theory erases the individual nature of both
visual and literal testimony. With the leveling of individual markers in case studies, the
subject of the individual testimony becomes the “type,” the micro study of an entire “class”
of people.
6
Queering Early Twentieth-Century German Visual Culture:
Magnus Hirschfeld’s “Photographic Message”
At the last turn of the century, medicine (particularly psychoanalysis) was, as Eric Santner
writes, “[. . .] in a state of emergency, meaning a state of emergence, of coming-into-being, as
well as one of crisis and endangerment” (24). The age of modernity and the rapid
technological advances which accompanied it gave rise to a sense of unease in Western
society. This unease often manifested itself in hysteria in both men and women, as well as in
nervous disorders such as “railway spine.”4 Although technology fostered rapid economic
growth that translated to national political power, it was the same rapidity that traumatized
the public and that threatened to undermine gender roles; most notably, the concept of
masculinity.5 George Mosse explains that “the traditional outsiders [the Jew, the Gypsy, the
homosexual, the asocial] [. . .] were joined by those who by rights should have been part of
the mainstream, otherwise respectable middle-class men who could not live up to the manly
ideal because in some manner they were considered sick or unmanly” (83).
Thus, at this time of emergence and crisis, the crucial defining boundary between the
societal Other and the respectable bourgeois male was in danger of collapsing. However, in
the case of the homosexual in Germany, legal discourse buttressed this boundary with
Paragraph 175, the law that outlawed male-male sexual relations. Those persons who (1)
could exercise power via German legal and/or medical discourse and (2) identified with the
German patriarchy firmly maintained the legitimacy of § 175. However, Magnus Hirschfeld
utilized medical discourse in an attempt to disprove § 175’s legitimacy and to legalize
homosexuality within legal discourse.
In the Foreword to Geschlechts-Übergänge, Hirschfeld simultaneously addresses and
defines his audience: “den ärztlichen Kollegen, den Juristen und dem gebildeten Publikum”
(3). Hirschfeld’s essay is tripartite in structure. The first section is an explanation of
7
Hirschfeld’s theory of sexual intermediaries. He bases this on other occurrences in nature,
thereby underscoring variance in sexual determination and orientation as natural (3). In the
second section, Hirschfeld presents case histories of a “female” and a “male” sexual
intermediary who have visited Hirschfeld’s clinic. The “male” sought Hirschfeld’s aid,
because “[. . .] er erfahren hatte, daß [Hirschfeld] Personen seiner Art, die er als ‘Lebewesen
letzter Klasse’ bezeichnete, besonders Interesse entgegenbrächte” (26).
It is the third and final section, however, that marks Hirschfeld’s highest priority:
“[. . .] einmal in zusammenhängender bildlicher Darstellung die Haupttypen der
Geschlechtsübergänge ad oculos zu demonstrieren” (4). He guarantees that the photographs
that comprise this section are for the most part the results of his own observation, and that
they will prove the existence of sexual intermediaries between the “normal” male and female
forms. For Hirschfeld, intermediaries of sexual orientation, sex, and gender are related. As
James Steakley explains,
[t]he theory of sexual intermediacy, as Hirschfeld emphasized repeatedly, was
not at all a theory in the strict sense of the word, but instead simply a type of
systematics that made it possible to order the multiplicity of individual cases.
To order the gradations between the sexes, he investigated sexual
differentiation along four lines: ‘I. the sex organs [hermaphroditism], II.
other bodily qualities [androgyny], III. the sexual drive [metatropism (per
Steakley, a term coined by Hirschfeld which “designated a reversal of the sex
drive in terms of gender, for example, in a heterosexual couple between a
dominant female and a passive male”), homosexuality, and bisexuality] IV.
other psychological qualities [transvestism]’” (“Per scientiam” 144).
Hirschfeld is a product of modernity who seizes upon the photograph as visual
verisimilitude. His medical degree, which legitimizes his knowledge of medical and legal
discourses, also legitimizes his visual observations. In medical photography, the gaze of the
doctor simultaneously validates and manages the camera, which in turn manages the
distribution of information. What this would mean for the visual conception and
8
representation of the homosexual at the dawn of the twentieth century will be discussed in
the following sections.
Rendering the Homosexual Visible: The Photograph as Political Testimony
The impetus behind Hirschfeld’s Geschlechts-Übergänge is to demonstrate the varied
manifestations of sex that can occur in the body and gender that can be performed according
to or against societal norms. Steakley writes that Hirschfeld “[. . .] intuitively grasped that the
universal legitimacy of heterosexuality was based on an unquestioning acceptance of sexual
dimorphism, and indeed that each individual’s development of a harmonious sexual and
gender identity took the body as its starting point” (“Per scientiam,” 141, emphasis mine).
Hirschfeld explains that “[a]lles was das Weib besitzt, hat – wenn auch in noch so kleinen
Resten – der Mann und von allen männlichen Eigenschaften sind beim Weibe zum
mindesten Spuren vorhanden [. . .]” (8). With this statement, Hirschfeld deconstructs the
conventional and unquestioned polarities of “man” and “woman,” thereby exposing the
performative nature of gender and allowing for “natural improvisations” of gender, sex, and
sexuality. For conservative thinkers, such statements merely reflected the degeneration of
society and were a danger to “masculinity.”
Hirschfeld sought to subvert such “unquestioning acceptance” not just for medical
reasons, but also for legal reasons. When discussing the “male” sexual intermediary, he
writes that
[d]ieses Beispiel ist besonders wichtig, weil es zeigt, wie voreilig es war, im
neue Bürgerlichen Gesetzbuche vom Jahre 1900 den Paragraphen über
Zwitter fortzulassen, mit der Begründung, es gäbe in Wirklichkeit keine
Personen zweifelhaften Geschlechts. (3)
Geschlechts-Übergänge offers Hirschfeld’s “medical colleagues, lawyers and educated public”
visual “proof”—based on medical and legal discourse—that this omission is indeed
9
unfounded. If such persons do indeed exist, it is only just that such persons be incorporated
in legal discourse.
Foucault’s Birth of the Clinic describes the role of the physician’s medical narrative and
trained eye when observing patients, and offers an interesting lens through which to analyze
Hirschfeld’s work. With its reliance on written and visual testimony of hermaphrodites and
homosexuals, it is possible that Foucault would categorize Gender-Crossings as an “[. . .]
effort to define a statutory form of correlation between the gaze and language” (112).
According to Foucault, to attempt to establish said correlation would pose a theoretical
problem in the physician’s analysis of the “disease:”
This problem was revealed in a technical difficulty that was very revealing of
the demands of clinical thinking: the picture. Is it possible to integrate into a
picture, that is, into a structure that is at the same time visible and legible,
spatial and verbal, that which is perceived on the body by the clinician’s eye,
and that which is heard by that same clinician in the essential language of
disease? (Birth 112).
This problem presents itself in Hirschfeld’s analysis of the “male” sexual intermediary.
Interestingly, no photographs of this subject were taken. Hirschfeld only offers the reader a
textual account of this baffling case: “that which is perceived on the body by [Hirschfeld’s]
eye” can not be expressed in a photograph. Hirschfeld writes that the patient
[. . .] war nicht wenig enttäuscht, als ich entgegen meinem Versprechen ihm
die Antwort schuldig bleiben mußte, ob er denn nun eigentlich ein Mann
oder ein Weib sei, ihm also wie er in der ihm eigentümlichen Art meinte, “auf
die Sektion vertröstete.” (32)
In this case, it seems that not even the camera could provide the doctor further insight into
the patient’s condition, and thus the subject was not photographed. Lacking a definable sex,
the patient remains an alienated Other in medical and legal discourse: a “type” whose
characteristics defy visual representation.
10
In lieu of a visual representation of the subject, Hirschfeld offers a detailed account
of the subject. Foucault explains that language is charged with a “dual function” in medical
analysis:
[. . .] by its value as precision, it establishes a correlation between each sector
of the visible and an expressible element that corresponds to it as accurately
as possible; but this expressible element operates, within its role as
description, a denominating function which, by its articulation upon a
constant, fixed vocabulary, authorizes comparison, generalization, and establishment
within a totality [e.g., Hirschfeld’s sex / gender / sexual orientation in degrees]
[. . .]. To describe is to follow the ordering of the manifestations, but it is also
to follow the intelligible sequence of their genesis; it is to see and to know at the
same time, because by saying what one sees, one integrates it spontaneously into knowledge;
it is also to learn to see, because it means giving the key of a language that masters the
visible” (Birth 113-14, emphasis mine).
Hirschfeld’s “legible” analysis therefore (1) establishes the “truth” of the existence of sexual
intermediaries, (2) establishes a record of “knowledge” about the sexual intermediary, and (3)
manages and disseminates such knowledge in a manner much like a camera. One could state
this from the doctor’s point of view: “I, the doctor, have seen and examined this patient, and
my state-sanctioned credentials as a doctor of medicine legitimize my findings. You, the
reader, see the “truth” through my writing, much as I have seen the ‘truth’ firsthand.”6 Therefore,
Hirschfeld’s “legible” description integrates the subject somewhere along the spectrum of
sexual intermediaries, despite Hirschfeld’s inability (or refusal?) not only to render a purely
visible representation of the subject, but also to determine whether the subject was actually a
man or a woman.
Despite ambiguous genitalia, the subject performs masculinity as understood by
societal norms. Indeed, the subject had been baptized as a boy (25). He bore a strong
resemblance to his mother, and his effeminate nature drew him to the company of girls. His
hermaphroditism was something of an “open secret” at an early age: “[Die Eltern] sowohl
wie die älteren Geschwister wußten von seiner zwitterhaften Beschaffenheit, vermieden es
11
aber, mit ihm darüber zu sprechen” (26). The visual knowledge of the family has been
repressed up to this point in time, when Hirschfeld records his visual encounter with this
patient. Yet the question begs to be asked: “Whose testimony are we reading?” Much like
Freud’s “reading” of Dora’s oral testimony, Hirschfeld’s “reading” of Franz K.’s body
testimony is an interpretation of a corporal “text”: the patient’s body. However, the patient’s
“legible” and/or “visible” testimony presents obstacles to the doctor: episodes of amnesia in
Dora’s case, or physical manifestations in Franz K.’s case which defy visible representation.
Exercising power via medical discourse, the doctor (Freud, Hirschfeld) can legitimately fill
these gaps in the narrative.
For example, not only is the subject’s gender and sex ambiguous, but so is his age:
“Das Auffallendste beim ersten Eindruck war, daß es fast unmöglich schien, über das Alter
der sich vorstellenden Person ein Urteil zu fällen. Man konnte ihn ebensogut für 17, wie für
40 Jahre halten” (26). In his day-to-day life as a book keeper, the subject keeps his age a
secret, “damit die Leute ihm nicht zum Heiraten zureden” (27). In order to find a place for
himself in a strictly gendered, patriarchal society, the subject must perform the role of the
respectable, heterosexual male. His reluctance to visit a doctor illustrates the performative
nature of his existence. Whereas the layperson might be fooled by his performance of a
“respectable” sex and gender, a clinical examination would expose both as ambiguous.
Basing Charcot’s mistrust of his patients’ hysteric episodes on their theatrical nature,
Didi-Huberman writes that “‘deceit [. . .] is an integral part of the classical theater, [. . .] to
recite that which is true via scenic means; that is, facts, lies and, deception in a bodily answer”
(16). Similarly, I propose that Hirschfeld often doubted the authenticity of the
hermaphroditic “performance.” Hirschfeld expresses his reservations as to the factual nature
of his hermaphroditic patients’ testimony: “[. . .] man [hat] Zwittern vielfach und wohl auch
12
nicht mit Unrecht den Vorwurf gemacht, die Angaben über ihr Leben, ihre Triebe und
Neigungen seien unzuverlässig [. . .]” (32-33).
A case similar to that of Franz K. is represented in text and picture in the third
section of Geschlechts-Übergänge. A “highly interesting” case study of a nineteen-year-old “[. . .]
‘jungen Manne’, der vor einigen Jahren viel in den homosexuellen Lokalen Berlins
verkehrte” is problematic for Hirschfeld: “Es war nicht möglich, diese Angaben auf ihre
Richtigkeit zu prüfen, da P. wenn auch nicht nachweislich lügenhaft, so doch sehr unklar
und zerfahren war” (Tafel IX und X.). This is hardly the “precise” and “accurate” language
of Foucault’s physician. On what does Hirschfeld base this subjective analysis? He mentions
that the young man regularly visited the Friedrichstraße at night,7 for which he was chased out
of Berlin as an “undesirable alien” (Tafel IX und X.). Hirschfeld had since lost track of the
young man. Hirschfeld’s narrative of the young man’s final examination further illustrates
this patient’s performative and/or deceptive nature. Due to a sudden, painful swelling of the
breast, the subject consulted Hirschfeld. According to Hirschfeld, the subject, “[i]m
Bestreben, sich noch interessanter zu machen, wie er war, behauptete er, es hätte die
angeschwollene Brust ‘viel Milch’ abgesondert” (Tafel IX und X.). Attempts to express milk
during the examination failed to produce a secretion of any kind, indicating to the reader that
the testimony of the young man was truly deceitful. The legible testimony of the young man,
largely narrated by Doctor Hirschfeld, is therefore questionable at best.
The visible testimony of photographs of the young man look more like studio
portraits than clinical photographs (see fig. 1). In the first photograph, the subject is welldressed and poses to the right with the hand resting on a chair. In the other three pictures,
the subject is naked and rests the hand on a bar that is mounted on the wall. The subject
stares defiantly at the camera in the full-frontal shot. The side- and rear-views are theatrically
Fig. 1. “Gynandrie (sexus incertus).” (Tafel IX.).
13
14
posed and are intended to illustrate the subject’s “weibliches Benehmen” and “weibliches
Becken bei im übrigen männlichen Figur” (Tafel IX und X.). A fifth picture shows a scar
from an operation incision. Hirschfeld’s caption underscores his guarded suspicion of the
patient’s testimony: “Patient gab an, daß ihm hier von einem Arzt ein Eierstock
herausgenommen sei, derselbe habe vor der Operation geglaubt, es läge eine Geschwulst
vor” (Tafel IX und X.). Hirschfeld’s skepticism of a relation between sign (scar) and signified
(the subject’s testimony) throws the validity of the case into doubt.
In contrast to his dismissal of this young man’s testimony, Hirschfeld defends Franz
K.’s statements based solely on Franz K.’s character, class, and education (33). Although the
subject is an Other in terms of sex, gender, and sexual orientation, Hirschfeld sees part of his
respectable Self in this bourgeois book keeper, who is “von sittlichem Ernst und großer
Ordnungsliebe [. . .] ein großer Verehrer von Bismarck” (30).8 Hirschfeld is also quick to
stress that “[e]s überwiegen die männlichen Charakterzüge. [. . .] Starke Affekterregbarkeit
ist nicht vorhanden; Thränen fließen fast nie; er kann dagegen leicht zornig werden” (30).
Indeed, Franz K. performs his masculine gender in accordance to societal standards of virile
masculinity; so well so that no one questions if indeed he is strictly of the male sex.
Whereas Hirschfeld chooses to discredit not only the legible, but also the visible
testimony of the young man in fig. 1 (Tafel IX und X.), Hirschfeld quite literally engenders
and affirms Franz K’s performance of masculinity. Although the genitalia refuse visual
definition, Hirschfeld creates a legible testimony based on the information that he gleans
from the subject’s secondary characteristics. In other words, despite physical evidence to the
contrary, Franz K. certainly acts like a man. He is also patriotic, loves order, and is
respectable—the definition of the ideal German petit bourgeois. Therefore, Franz K.
deserves legal protection just like any other law-abiding citizen.
15
Having deemed Franz K.’s gender to be masculine, and his sexual orientation to be
“weiblich passivisch” (30), it seems as if Hirschfeld has solved the riddle of Franz K. But
what of Franz K.’s sex? Hirschfeld cannot classify him as a man “wie die Behörden und
seine Umgebung annehmen” based on “der überwiegenden Anzahl weiblicher
Geschlechtscharaktere, dem Mangel männlicher Keimzellen und dem ausgesprochenen
weiblichen Geschlechtstrieb [. . .]” (31). Since Franz K. cannot be defined as a man, he also
cannot be classified as a homosexual man, as he categorizes himself (31). Since he has never
menstruated and exhibits male secondary characteristics, he cannot be a woman. He is not of
no sex, since he displays “Geschlechtsstigmata in großer Fülle” (31). Neither is he of two
sexes, because no reproductive cells are present in his genital secretions (31).
Hirschfeld ultimately declares that the subject is “weder Mann noch Weib” (33). It
would seem that Hirschfeld’s Übergangstheorie would “solve” this instance of “gender
trouble”: if the subject is neither man nor woman, then the subject must “be of” the Third
Sex. However, Hirschfeld’s resigned tone indicates, or anticipates, the frustration felt by him,
his patient, and his reader resulting from this diagnosis. “Neither man nor woman” is as
ambiguous as it is precise. Franz K.’s body is analogous to Luce Irigaray’s “woman”: both
“[. . .] constitute a paradox, if not a contradiction, within the discourse of identity itself”
(Butler 14). Hirschfeld still relies on conventional medical and gender discourse in order to
create a testimony for people of the Third Sex. From such a diagnosis, it would seem to the
reader that the “successful” performance of masculinity takes precedence to the ambiguous
body. If, like Irigaray’s “woman,” the hermaphroditic body “represent[s] the sex that cannot
be thought,” Hirschfeld’s “inclusive” Übergangstheorie is marked by a “linguistic absence and
opacity” (Butler 14).
16
The Photograph as Gendered Narration/Narration of Gender
When the camera is introduced to the doctor/patient relationship, the camera amplifies the
perception of the doctor’s gaze, which has predominantly been a male gaze. As the object of
the male clinical gaze, the patient assumes the passive role of a body of information:
symptoms, gestures, and other signs to be “read” by the doctor. Therefore, the medical
photograph is a gendered, male narration of the patient’s characteristics. This photographic
moment provides the opportunity for further analysis at a later date, either alone or in the
company of colleagues.
In the chapter “The Visible Invisible” of The Birth of the Clinic, Foucault discusses the
effect of “instrumental mediation outside the body.” Of particular interest is the
stethoscope, which “authorizes a withdrawal that measures the moral distance involved; the
prohibition of physical contact makes it possible to fix the virtual image of what is occurring
well below the visible area” (164). I propose that the camera operates in a similar manner in
Hirschfeld’s case studies, as it provides a critical distance with which the doctor sees beyond
the image: “for the hidden, the distance of shame is a projection screen. What one cannot see
is shown in the distance from what one must not see” (Foucault, Birth 164).
The photograph also narrates the performance of gender; of how people of
indeterminate sex choose and perform their gender. Such relationships between photograph,
narration, and gender issues present themselves in Hirschfeld’s case study of “Friederike S.,”
the “female” sexual intermediary featured in Geschlechts-Übergänge.
As Foucault writes, “nineteenth century medicine [. . .] was regulated more in
accordance with normality than with health” (Birth 35). In other words, in medical discourse,
the term “healthy” is a normative signifier. “Healthy” people are considered “normal,”
“respectable” citizens. Conversely, the undesirable Other is defined as “degenerate” or
17
“sick.” Hirschfeld takes great strides to stress the respectability of Friederike, her parents and
her family vis-à-vis their “normal” bodily conditions. The parents are defined as “[. . .]
gesund, nicht blutsverwandt [. . .] beide sind sittenstrenge, sehr fromme und biedere Leute”;
the siblings are married, thus performing a “normal” sexuality; and the children have always
been strong and healthy (19). In the family, there are no psychological illnesses, deformed
body development, fracture, wen, syphilis, alcoholism, tuberculosis; neither were there ever
any cases of suicide (19). Hirschfeld declares the family as “normal” when he states: “Eine
Belastung im degenerativen Sinne ist nicht nachweisbar” (19). The family has maintained
“normality” vis-à-vis their healthy bodily condition, and in doing so, remains a healthy cell of
society.
In her childhood, Friederike was healthy, but exhibited masculine character traits
such as “playing boys’ games” and “climbing trees.” However, she also learned “feminine”
activities such as needle-work (19). At the onset of puberty, her body began to develop as a
boy’s would: “die Brüste blieben völlig unverändert, Menses traten nicht ein, im 17. Jahr
veränderte sich die Stimme. Im Beginne der zwanziger Jahre kamen Barthaare an Oberlippe
und Kinn” (19). She also displayed a “masculine” love of smoking, and could consume large
amounts of alcohol (20). Hirschfeld describes Friederike S.’s sex drive as
[. . .] männlich aktivisch, die Stärke ihres Geschlechtstriebes groß, nach dem
Verkehr mit einer Frau fühlt sie sich erfrischt und gesundheitlich gefördert.
Sie war der Meinung, daß sie homosexuell veranlagt sei. Wenn die Gelegenheit zum
sexuellen Verkehr mit einem Weibe lange fehlte, griff sie zur
Selbstbefriedigung. (21 emphasis mine)
Like Franz K., Friederike S. has a uniform fetish and a strong desire to be a soldier. Unlike
Franz K., Friederike S. “besitzt einen Revolver und scharfe Patronen, schießt gern, [. . .]
auch hätte sie gern als Soldat gedient” (20). One might say that Friederike S.’s masculinity is
more “successful” than that of Franz K.: she performs more “like a man” than he. Most
18
telling of her predominately masculine sexual determination is her “virile” sex drive, as
demonstrated by frequent masturbation, “bis in die jetzige Zeit fortgesetzt” (20). Her penile
clitoris and Friederike S.’s “performances” of frequent masturbation, wet dreams, and
pleasure from sex with woman enjoy special attention in Hirschfeld’s narrative: “sie träumte,
daß sie ein Mädchen küßte und an sich drückte, wobei Erektionen der ‘Clitoris’ eintraten”
(21).
With respect to the penile clitoris, such dreams are largely heterosexual in nature. The
subject is well past the oedipal stage and should be consciously aware of difference between
male and female genitalia. In her attraction to woman, Friederike S. is fulfilling heterosexual
desire in terms of her sex. Although Friederike chooses to perform her gender as a woman
based on the assumption that she is a woman, Hirschfeld judges her to be more man than
woman. If Friederike were more man than woman, her desire to have intercourse with
women would not be proof of homo-, but rather heterosexual orientation.
It is at this point where the photograph becomes of great importance. The
photographs of Friederike S. pinpoint her performances of female gender and her
predominately male sex (see fig. 2). German scholar Walter Benjamin, who dealt with mass
culture and high culture in modernity, took an interest in the photograph’s visual exactitude.
He discusses this in his example of how one would record how people walk:
While it is possible to give an account of how people walk, if only in the
most inexact way, all the same we know nothing definite of the positions
involved in the fraction of the second when the step is taken. Photography,
however, with its time lapses, enlargements, etc. make such knowledge
possible. Through these methods one first learns of this optical unconsciousness,
just as one learns of the drives of the unconscious through psychoanalysis [. .
.]. (“Short History”, 203 emphasis mine)
19
Fig. 2. “Pseudohermaphroditismus masculinus bei überwiegen männlichem Habitus (Error in sexu)
[Friederike S.].” (Tafel III.)
20
Stated differently, details that the conscious eye might miss upon first examination would be
captured by the camera, which amplifies the senses much like Freud’s “Hörkappe” (ear
horn).9 The viewer would finally see information that has been repressed by the unconscious
eye; information which the viewer has always known without knowing. The tall, strong,
“virile” Friederike S. is indeed more man than woman. When presented with the
photographs, the viewer is apt to think: “She only acts like a woman; I knew her secret all
along.”
In the first photograph, Friederike is posed as a woman in her “normal” street
garments (see fig. 2). To the right of this photograph, she appears “in dem ihrer Natur mehr
entsprechenden, ihr auch sympathischeren Männeranzug, den sie aber in ihrem Leben nur
drei Mal entliehen und angelegt hat” (Tafel III und IV.). In the first picture, Friederike
avoids looking at the camera, yet in the second, her pose is confident, almost inviting the
camera’s eye. As in fig. 1, both photos resemble studio portraits rather than medical
photographs. If they were presented individually, the conscious eye might not see the
similarity—indeed the identical nature—of the subject in both pictures. However, as they are
placed side by side, the viewer (doctor, lawyer, educated public) can exercise his/her
“unconscious eye” for critical examination of the subject, who could pass for a woman as
well as a man.
Benjamin explains that “[a]ll the artistic preparations of the photographer and all the
design in the positioning of his model to the contrary, the viewer feels an irresistible
compulsion to seek the tiny spark of accident, the here and now” (“Short History” 202). The
viewer seeks such an “accident” in order to “see through” Friederike S.’s largely successful
performance of female gender. The photograph of Friederike presents the viewer with her
past by capturing the residuum, the present absence, the inaccessibility to represent
21
everything that has gone on in the subject’s life. The viewer also brings a piece of the
photographic subject’s futurity to the subject—something that the subject was not aware of
at the time of the photograph. In this instance, this “something” is the viewer’s present
knowledge that, due to her “masculine” gender and sex at the time the photograph was
taken, Friederike will never have found peace as long as she performed female gender in
society.
Beneath these two pictures are two pictures of Friederike in the nude. In the fullfrontal shot, Hirschfeld also appears in the photograph. Here, the photograph functions on
various levels. Hirschfeld’s presence accentuates Friederike’s height (“1.72 m”) and her
physical strength: Hirschfeld remarks that “mich selbst (85 Kilo) hob sie ziemlich leicht
empor” (22). In addition, Hirschfeld’s presence legitimizes the photograph as scientific
evidence and validates not only that this examination did take place, but also that Friederike
S. does exist. The viewer also now sees (in the sense of knowing) the doctor-patient
relationship: Hirschfeld, clothed, actively examines Friederike S., while she, naked and
masked stands upright, yet in a passive manner. The mask not only marks her ambiguous
identity, but also connotes shame felt by the photographic subject. The final photograph is a
rear shot, which illustrates Friederike’s “masculine” shoulders and pelvis. This invites
comparison by the reader to the rear shot of the effeminate nineteen-year-old man, which is
intended to illustrate his “feminine” body (see fig. 1).
Hirschfeld’s medical diagnosis—and the power vested in it—can be compared to
Freud’s diagnosis of his patient “Dora” in his Bruchstück einer Hysterie-Analyse. In order to
alleviate her hysteric symptoms, Dora must accept Freud’s narration of her testimony. The
case remained a fragment because Dora refused to do so and broke contact with Freud.
22
Hirschfeld never gives the exact reason why Friederike S. came to him, but she displayed
signs of depression and had thoughts of suicide due to her physical makeup:
Sie fühlte sich oft sehr unglücklich, litt an Lebensüberdruß, kaufte sich daher
einen Revolver, hat aber keinen Selbstmordversuch gemacht. Am liebsten
wäre sie “als Mann geboren”, angekämpft gegen ihre Natur hat sie nicht, weil
sie es für aussichtslos hielt. Trotz sehr religiöser Erziehung hat sie ihren
Glauben verloren, weil “in der Bibel steht, Ihr sollt Euch vermehren und sie
nicht an einen Gott glauben kann, der so unvollkommene Geschöpfe
geschaffen habe, wie sie eines sei.” (21-22).10
Hirschfeld pieces together a legible and visible narration based on the fragments of
Friederike S.’s testimony. Since medical examinations have found spermatozoa and have
thus proven her to be more man than woman, and since she has expressed a desire to be (or
perform as) a man, Hirschfeld suggests “ihre Metrik zu ändern und als Mann weiter zu
leben” (25). Although Friederike’s reaction is not as strong as Dora’s rejection of Freud’s
diagnosis, Friederike also refuses Hirschfeld’s advice. She does this for the simple reason
that “sie das mit dieser Umänderung verknüpfte Aufsehen scheute und fürchtete, die ihr
angenehm gewordene geschäftliche Stellung zu verlieren” (25). Having performed as a
woman in society for so long, to perform a gender more true to her nature would prove
socially disastrous for Friederike S.
The photograph is a temporal representation, a collapsing of past, present, and
future when “read” by the viewer. When the reader sees Friederike’s picture, she is not only
the person who had performed her gender as female, but she is the person who, due to
societal pressure, will have had to perform her gender as female. Hirschfeld’s references to
Friederike’s thoughts of suicide also indicates a subjunctive tense, a “what-might-have-been”
scenario in the viewer’s mind. With this in mind, the viewer also sees Friederike as the
person who would have committed suicide due to the difficulty of performing her “proven”
male gender and sex.
23
The Third Sex in German Cultural Memory: Hirschfeld’s Aesthetic Program
As evidenced by Friederike’s reluctance to perform her gender as a male, aesthetic tradition
played and continues to play a large role in the policing of state-sanctioned gender roles.11
The photographs in Geschlechts-Übergänge subvert commonly held notions of what constitutes
an aesthetically pleasing—or legal—gender performance. The concept of “normality,”
understood as “health” in nineteenth-century medical discourse, was also central to legal
discourse and bourgeois order. Any form of excess was seen as a danger; perfection and
monstrosity both threatened to undermine “normality.”
Here, shades of German Enlightenment thinking and Lessing’s Laokoon come into
play: “beauty is the highest rule” (53). Lessing explains the Master’s technique:
The Master works towards the highest beauty under the accepted
circumstances of bodily pain. The latter, in all of its distorting intensity, was
not to be connected with the former. He had to diminish that; he had to
soften the screaming to sighing, not because the screaming betrayed an
ignoble soul, but rather because it transformed the face in a loathsome
manner. Say that one forces open Laokoon’s mouth in one’s thoughts, and
judge that. Say one lets him scream, and see what happens. It was once an
image, which was infused with empathy, because it showed beauty and pain
simultaneously; now it has become an ugly, an abominable image, away from which one
gladly turns his face, because the sight of pain provokes aversion, an aversion which the
beauty of the suffering cannot transform into the sweet feeling of empathy.
(20, emphasis mine)
“The single moment” that was once captured by a sculpture or painting could now be
preserved by the photograph at the turn of the last century. All of these media maintain “an
unchanging permanence: therefore [the artist] must not render anything which cannot be
thought of as anything but transitory.” As Benjamin would suggest over a century later, the
(a)temporal nature of the photograph demystifies moments; it cannot refuse them. Like the
sculpture Laokoon, the photograph knots opposites, the subject’s futurity and past. What is
at stake is the viewer’s empathy for the subject. As in the case of Laokoon, Hirschfeld’s
24
photographic subjects must “show beauty and pain simultaneously” (Lessing 20) in order to
evoke empathy from Hirschfeld’s readers, i.e., his medical colleagues, lawyers, and the
educated public. I do not wish to suggest that Hirschfeld would have held images of the
hermaphrodite or of the bearded lady to be “beautiful.” Rather, he would have insisted that
as a natural occurrence, as a degree of sexual determination in nature, all degrees of sexual
determination should at least be included in progressive aesthetic, medical, and legal
discourses.12
Much in the same way that Roland Barthes reads the press photograph in his essay
“The Photographic Message,” the medical authority of Hirschfeld’s photographs is also
“underscored” by his captions. Barthes writes that the photograph and the caption are in
essence “the two structures of the message” (195). “[E]ach occupy their own defined spaces,
these being contiguous but not ‘homogenized,’ as they are for example in the rebus, which
fuses words and images in a single line of reading” (195). The photograph “profess[es] to be
a mechanical analogue of reality” by presenting the “perfect analogon” of the subject, and
therefore “is a message without a code; from which proposition an important corollary must
immediately be drawn: the photographic message is a continuous message” (196). Of course,
the photograph is more than this; it is not merely objective realism. It has “two messages: a
denoted message, which is the analogon itself, and a connoted message, which is the manner
in which the society to a certain extent communicates what it thinks of it” (197). It is the
duality of Hirschfeld’s photographic message (the denoted and the connoted messages) and
its power to evoke the reader’s empathy that are the focus of the next section.
The following examples illustrate how “the photograph allows the photographer
[Hirschfeld] to conceal elusively the preparation to which he subjects the scene to be
recorded” via “trick effects, pose, and objects” (200).
25
Fig. 3. “Gynäkomastie.” (Tafel XI.). Pose is exaggerated and objects have been added in order
to amplify the connoted message of “effeminate male” vis-à-vis the denoted message of
“young boy of 18 years with female breast development.”
26
Fig. 3 “zeigt einen Jüngling von 18 Jahren mit femininer Brustentwicklung” (Tafel XI und
XII.). The relaxed, indeed, passive pose and the limp grasp of the flower are performances
that society at large signifies as “effeminacy.” Why include the flower? According to Barthes,
“the interest [with objects] lies in the fact that the objects are accepted inducers of
associations of ideas (bookcase = intellectual) or, in a more obscure way, are veritable
symbols [. . .]” (201-02). Thus, the inclusion of the flower further connotes the message of
“effeminate male.”
If the connoted message is a cultural message, then it is based on a culture’s
historical tradition. The aesthetic ideal of the young male nude is a motif that was
rediscovered in German Classicism (most notably by Winckelmann) and that would inform
accepted aesthetic and political representations of the German state.13 There is a hidden
“danger” in these images, since such images carry homoerotic overtones. Slightly prior to the
publication of the “medical” photographs in Geschlechts-Übergange, the production and
distribuition of homoerotic photograpy began to flourish in Europe. Baron Wilhelm von
Gloeden, a nobleman in search of a fortune, established himself in Sicily and became a wellknown photographer in homosexual circles. As Emmanuel Cooper explains,
[h]is major output, and clearly what he most enjoyed doing, was of sexually
suggestive photographs of naked Sicilian youths. [. . .]. Older youths would
often be posed with younger ones; body contact, though circumspect, was
not avoided, and sex roles were implied by such means. (156)
In addition to strategically posing his models, Von Gloeden used classical props to
play on cultural memory: “a sword, an urn, a loosely arranged toga or leopard skin or a
wreath of leaves suggested an ancient content” (Cooper 156). These poses and objects are
evidenced in fig. 4. In a similar fashion to the eighteen-year-old’s pose in Hirschfeld’s
Geschlechts-Übergange (fig. 3), von Gloeden positions the younger of the two youths in a
passive, “effeminate” pose while holding a flower.
27
Fig. 4. Gloeden, Baron Wilhelm von. Two Youths on Seat. (ca. 1900) (as featured in Cooper
155). The figure seated to the left is posed in the same manner and with the same object as
the subject in fig. 3.
Fig. 5. The top two figures are photographic
subjects of Hirschfeld (Tafel XIX.).
Illustration: Poths, Karl Konrad. Frühling.
(1905) (as featured in Berlin Museum 78).
Drawn for the homosexual aesthetic journal
Der Eigene.
28
29
This interplay of “active” and “passive” male roles generates a homoerotic aura: the younger
youth is soliciting the gaze of the older youth, whose prominently exposed penis underscores
the latter’s desirable, “virile” masculinity.
The aesthetic ideal of the young effeminate male is also evidenced in fig. 5, which are
photographs of “Männer mit weiblichen Becken” (Tafel XIX.). The comparison between fig.
3 and the younger youth in fig. 4 can be extended to include the center figure in fig. 5, who is
again posed in a passive, “effeminate” manner and who also holds a flower. To the left of
this photograph is Spring, drawn by Karl Konrad Poths for the homosexual aesthetic
journal, Die Eigenen. This drawing appeared in the same year that Geschlechts-Übergänge was
published, and bears an uncanny resemblance to the photograph from Hirschfeld’s study. It
is difficult to differentiate between purely aesthetic representations, such as Von Gloeden’s
erotic photography and Poths’s sketch, and medical photography, such as Hirschfeld’s
photographic evidence of sexual determination in degrees. Does art imitate nature? Or
science? Or does science imitate art? These questions arise only because Hirschfeld, the
studio photographer, and the artist all rely on cultural memory of an aesthetic ideal in their
representations of homosexuals (homosexual males).
Syntax establishes a complimentary relationship between Hirschfeld’s photographs in
fig. 5. The photographs of the two “men with female hips” are placed next to one another in
such a manner to direct the subjects’ glances at one another. The once autonomous subjects
are now read as a totality, suggesting a “type.” Fig. 6 performs in a similar fashion as a visual
scale of sexual determination. The scale can be read from left to right, from “pure” male, to
the “average type (male-female),” to the “pure” female. Each representation could stand on
its own, representing various degrees of sexual determination. However, Hirschfeld chose
these photographs to create a sequence.
30
Fig. 6. The aesthetic ideals of all “three” sexes: “the male, the Average Type male-female,
and the female figure” (Tafel XVII.).
As Barthes explains, in a sequence of photographs, “the signifier of connotation is then no
longer to be found at the level of any one of the fragments of the sequence but at that—
what the linguists would call the suprasegmental level—of the concatenation”
(“Photographic Message” 203-04). Such a “connotation procedure” expands the denoted
message(s) of “male” and “female” and the connoted message(s) of natural opposites, Adam
and Eve, husband and wife, heterosexual procreation, and the like, to include the “average
type,” the “male-female.” The table acts as a triptych of sexual determination. It is not the
“male” or the “female,” but the Third Sex, who is represented as the “average type,”
stressing the “normality” of the male-female subject. The Third Sex is also the central and
largest image: a synthesis of pure masculinity and pure femininity; indeed, almost a higher
being.
31
The above outlines an ideal connoted message of Hirschfeld’s sequence of
photographs. However, there are several flaws. Despite the caption of “average type,” the
Third Sex still stands outside the culturally accepted, historical conception of “gender” and
“sex.” It is interesting to note that the “male” is photographed from the rear; perhaps it
might have been too great a risk to “expose” the “male’s” penis to comparison with that of
the “male-female.” The “male-female” is a mirror opposite of the “female,” which leads the
viewer’s unconscious eye to interpret the “male-female” as a reflection of the “female,” or
vice-versa. If this is the case, the “male-female” literally and figuratively stands between the
“male” and the “female,” leaving the “male” outside of the complementary relationship
between “male-female” and “woman.”
Finally, is there a “female-male,” and where would s/he fit in the visual scale?
Geschlechts-Übergänge does feature photos of “virile” women who were bearded or who had
“male hips” (see fig. 7). Why did Hirschfeld not include these in the Third Sex spectrum?
Initially, one might place the blame for the exclusion of the female-male with the patriarchal
structure evident not only in Hirschfeld’s theories, but also in his research methods. In an
empirical study on sexual orientation in 1903, [Hirschfeld] [. . .] did not carry out any such
statistical investigation on the sexual orientation of women. [. . .] In fact, Hirschfeld felt no
need to survey women, for he assumed, however naively, that his statistical findings on male
sexuality were equally valid for females” (Steakley, “Per scientiam” 147-48).
However, patriarchal structures alone are not to blame, since Hirschfeld dedicated
much of Geschlechts-Übergänge to the case of the “female-male” Friederike S. The reason for
the exclusion of the female-male within the connotation procedure of fig. 6 lies largely with
cultural aesthetics. Hirschfeld carefully selected the representative of the Third Sex in fig. 6
based upon accepted cultural norms.
Fig. 7. “Androtrichie (feminae barbatae).” (Tafel XIV.).
32
33
If the representative of the Third Sex were taken out of the gender sequence of
“man—average type—woman,” the photographic subject would more than likely be
interpreted to be a “man.” There is nothing “grotesque” about his person. In contrast, the
image of a bearded women would liken the grotesque scream of Lessing’s Laokoon: a fixed
moment that would repulse the viewer rather than evoke empathy on the part of the viewer
for the photographic subject.
Conclusion
The camera proved to be a vital tool for Hirschfeld as a medical doctor, as a political activist,
and as an aesthete. Defining his expectations of his readers and the goal of his work,
Hirschfeld believes
[. . .] daß es doch vorurteilslose Menschen genug gibt, die sehend einsehen, daß
es sich hier nicht um Aufstellung von Theorien, sondern lediglich um die
Hervorhebung nicht hinreichend beachteter Naturerscheinungen handelt. Wer
die Abbildungen nur als Kuriositäten und Raritäten betrachtet, verkennt meine
Absicht, die darin besteht, durch die stärkeren Grade die leichteren, durch das
“mehr” das oft so verkannte “weniger” begreiflich zu machen. (4-5)
This quote reminds the reader of the impulse behind Geschlechts-Übergänge: to prove that those
persons who had once been seen as “rarities” and “curiosities” are just as natural as the
average German citizen. Although Hirschfeld would indeed argue that such persons are the
exception to the norm, Geschlechts-Übergänge is a textual and visual normative message.
Hirschfeld’s “subversive” gender structure is in reality a program of normality, of bringing
those of “abnormal” gender performance, sex, and/or sexual orientation from the fringes of
society closer to the inclusive center of society.
Geschlechts-Übergänge was to literally and figuratively illustrate to Hirschfeld’s
contemporary audience of “medical colleagues, lawyers and educated public” that these
34
persons who had once been labeled as pathological, if not criminal, by Krafft-Ebing and his
medical colleagues were not only “natural,” but also “useful” German citizens. The
photograph is “visual proof” of sexual intermediaries; persons who existed between the
accepted polarities of “male” and “female.” These same citizens suffered unjustly due to
their natural condition. Not only did legal discourse discriminate against them, as in the case
of homosexual males and § 175; legal discourse excluded sexual intermediaries, who did not
exist according to said discourse. The visual testimony of people such as Friederike S.
translates to the legible testimony as narrated by her doctor, Magnus Hirschfeld. Hirschfeld’s
exercise of medical discourse, as authorized by his legal medical title, legitimizes her
testimony, as well as the textual testimony of Franz K. Via Hirschfeld’s textual and
photographic message, the grave omission in the 1900 German Civil Law Code is revealed,
and additional evidence is presented that addresses the injustice of § 175.
However, it must be noted that Hirschfeld’s visual message is carefully crafted so as
to win empathy from Hirschfeld’s audience—not to shock or repulse them. Images of
bearded women and hermaphrodites are “grotesque” in the sense that polar opposites of
sexual characteristics are combined in a single visual, bodily expression. Hirschfeld does not
“censor” such representations, as this would compromise his program of inclusion. Just the
same, such images are not candidates to represent Hirschfeld’s Third Sex in the gender
spectrum “man—average type—woman.” Instead, Hirschfeld chooses an image that would
appeal to the broader cultural aesthetic, and image that would, to cite Lessing, “[. . .]
transform into the sweet feeling of empathy” (20).
The issue of empathy is a major problem with Geschlechts-Übergänge. In this volume,
persons of “indeterminate gender” are presented alongside persons of “indeterminate sex.”
It is hard for the reader to differentiate between issues of biological sex, sexual orientation or
35
practice, and gender performances. Precisely for this reason, some male homosexuals would
reject Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory. Male homosexual groups such as Der Eigene, which was
led by Adolf Brand, did not identify with sexual intermediaries or transvestites, nor did they
seek empathy. Hirschfeld’s “homosexual” was for them a crippled abomination, and groups
such as Der Eigene would develop their own aesthetic program that would celebrate the noble
traditions of “male friendship” and “pedagogical Eros” from Greek antiquity.
36
Notes to Chapter 1
I began work on this chapter based on a tattered copy of Geschlechts-Übergänge that I
found in January 2001 via interlibrary loan in the United States. This partial copy contains
only 22 of 32 tables. It was not until late in my research year in Berlin that I reviewed the
complete copy of Geschlechts-Übergänge at the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Society, which has a total of
32 tables. These ten additional tables are organized under the following headings: “Androgyne
Frauen”; “Gynandromorphie, Gynoglottie”; “Umkehrung der Geschlechter”; “Mann oder Weib”;
“Hermaphroditen in der Kunst”; and finally, “Die konträre Sexualempfindung.” Two things become
apparent when the tables are reviewed in their entirety: first, that Hirschfeld does indeed link
a physical hermaphroditism with a “spiritual hermaphroditism”, namely homosexuality;
second, that Hirschfeld builds his argument on a cultural aesthetic tradition, as the plates in
“Hermaphroditism in Art” indicate.
2 KRAFFT-EBING was later swayed by Hirschfeld’s theories. See KRAFFT-EBING.
3 WOLFF dons Hirschfeld with this title in her biography.
4 In modernity, “mechanical force” is that traumatizing result of technological
advances that traumatizes and thereby emasculinates “man.” In 1920, FREUD compares
“railway spine” to trauma experienced by World War I veterans resulting from “mechanical
force”: “Nach schweren mechanischen Erschütterungen, Eisenbahnzusammenstößen und
anderen, mit Lebensgefahr verbundenen Unfällen ist seit langem ein Zustand beschrieben
worden, dem dann der Name ‘traumatische Neurose’ verblieben ist. Der schreckliche, eben
jetzt abgelaufene Krieg hat eine große Anzahl solcher Erkrankungen entstehen lassen und
wenigstens der Versuchung ein Ende gesetzt, sie auf organische Schädigung des
Nervensystems durch Entwicklung mechanischer Gewalt zurückzuführen” (“Jenseits” 9).
5 Although such disorders certainly bear weight on the concept of masculinity in turn
of the century Germany, a lengthy discussion of them would have no direct bearing on this
study. For a detailed explanation of the link between technology, nervous disorders,
degeneration, and masculinity, see MOSSE, Image, ch. 5.
6 FOUCAULT holds the “ideal of an exhaustive description” to be “[. . .] the
continuous correlation of an entirety—that is doubly—faithful description; in relation to its
object it must be, in effect, without any gap; and in language describing the object it must
allow no deviation. Descriptive rigour will be the result of precision of the statement and of
regularity in the designation” (Birth 113).
7 HERZER explains that a “[b]eliebtes Jagdrevier der Schwulen war die Passage Ecke
Friedrich- / Behrensstraße nach den Linden. Neben dem Panoptikum fanden sich hier auch
Läden mit erotischen Postkarten und Büchern, vor denen junge Stricher auf Kunden
warteten. John Henry Mackay beschreibt dieses Milieu in seinem Roman Der Puppenjunge.” (in
HIRSCHFELD, Berlins 20). Hirschfeld’s reference to this area in the case study of the nineteenyear-old subject relegates the subject to this degenerate milieu that lies beyond bourgeois
respectability. The relationship between respectability and “homosexual” topoi is discussed
in ch. 4.
8 See HERZER, Magnus 54-55.
9 FREUD describes the “Hörkappe” (ear horn) as that part of the “Ich” (Ego) and
“Es” (Id) system that “amplifies” and transfers repressed memory fragments from the
internal system Vbw to the external surface system W-Bw; in other words, an aid in making
the subconscious conscious (Das Ich und das Es 252).
1
37
The painful ambivalence that Friederike’s body and identity cause recalls
Foucault’s analysis of the nineteenth century French “female” hermaphrodite, “Herculine.”
BUTLER writes that “[p]erhaps because Herculine’s body is hermaphroditic, the struggle to
separate conceptually the description of h/er primary sexual characteristics from h/er gender
identity (h/er sense of h/er own gender which, by the way, is ever-shifting and far from
clear) and the directionality and objects of h/er desire is especially difficult. S/he herself
presumes at various points that h/er body is the cause of h/er gender confusion and h/er
transgressive pleasures, as if they were both result and manifestation of an essence which
somehow falls outside the natural/metaphysical order of things. But rather than understand
h/er anomalous body as the cause of h/er desire, h/er trouble, h/er affairs and confession,
we might read this body, here fully textualized, as a sign of an irresolvable ambivalence
produced by the juridical discourse on univocal sex. In the place of univocity, we fail to
discover multiplicity, as Foucault would have us do; instead, we confront a fatal ambivalence,
produced by the prohibitive law, which for all its effects of happy dispersal nevertheless
culminates in Herculine’s suicide” (126-27).
11 The legal discourse surrounding the performance of gender in Wilhelmine
Germany prompted Hirschfeld’s interest in his fourth category of sexual determination,
transvestism, which manifested “other psychological qualities” (STEAKLEY, “Per scientiam”
144). I discuss this in my essay “Like a Stone [. . .]”: “In 1910 Hirschfeld published Die
Transvestiten (Transvestites), a work based on scientific method which featured case studies,
analyses of these studies, and a discussion of the phenomenon of the transvestite. Hirschfeld
coined the term ‘transvestite’[. . .]. In the chapter “Transvestism and the Law,” Hirschfeld
cites cases from all over the world including cases in the United States and concludes that
“[c]rossdressing in ‘free’ England and America, too, even if it does not disturb the peace, is
considered disturbing the peace. There, in general, of course, only men are punished, while
women appearing as men come away with a reprimand or warning’” (44). Transvestism is
illegal because it is deceit, a masquerade: it is the unsanctioned gender performance by a
member of a particular sex. It stands apart of aesthetic and legal discourse; an aesthetic
misrepresentation of one’s self.
12 MOSSE refers to Winckelmann’s discussion of Laocoon not just as an aesthetic
ideal, but also with respect to an ideal masculinity. In Nationalism, he writes that “[. . .]
manliness symbolized the nation’s spiritual and material vitality. It called for strength of body
and mind, but not brute force—the individual’s energies had to be kept under control. The
quiet grandeur of Laocoon was the ideal” (23). In Image, MOSSE undertakes a more lengthy
discussion of Laocoon as the (Greek) standard of masculinity and of self-control, citing
Winckelmann’s famous metaphor of the ocean when describing Laocoon as the enunciation
of ancient Greek “edle Einfalt und stille Größe” (32).
13 See MOSSE, Image 29-39. The interplay of aesthetic, medical and legal discourses is
illustrated by MOSSE’s discussion of Lavater: “the Greeks exemplified the ideal of human
beauty, and such beauty, in turn, symbolized the proper moral posture. The Greeks, so Lavater
declared, echoing Winckelmann, were better and more beautiful than the present generation”
(25, emphasis mine).
10
38
Chapter 2
Against the “Uranian Petticoat”: On Homosexual Aesthetics and Self-Fashioning.
Self-Determination and Cultural Identity: Towards a Modernist Homosexual Aesthetic
The first chapter of this study examines the gendering of the homosexual male and female
according to medical and legal discourses. Of particular interest were the following: the
extent to which Magnus Hirschfeld practiced a “progressive medicine” towards the repeal of
§ 175, and the importance of photography in his medical and political program. Without
question, Hirschfeld was that protagonist of homosexual rights who employed medical
homosexual discourse in his efforts to decriminalize homosexuality.
Just the same, Hirschfeld’s work is ambivalent on many levels. In Hirschfeld’s works,
he consistently deals with “the homosexual” both as subject in personal testimony and as
object of his analyses. Although Hirschfeld was himself homosexual, he never made this fact
known.1 By distancing himself from the role of “the homosexual,” he thereby distanced
himself from the role of “the sick homosexual” or “the homosexual as object of medical
research.”2 Most importantly, he could present himself to his colleagues as well as to the
public at-large as a neutral, objective scientist; as someone who fought for the rights of the
discriminated and the criminalized, not as someone who himself was discriminated and
criminalized (Herrn, “Sexualwissenschaft” 320).
If Hirschfeld’s subject position is so uncertain, this begs the question: what was the
response of “the homosexual” to Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory? In preparation for this
study, the three major homosexual journals of this period were reviewed and representative
examples were selected. The publication dates of the journals Der Eigene, Die Freundschaft, and
Die Insel span from 1896 to 1933.3 Based on photographs and short stories from said
journals, this second chapter analyses the development of a “modernist homosexual
Against the “Uranian Petticoat”: On Homosexual Aesthetics and Self-Fashioning
39
aesthetic” in German homosexual journals before during, and after the First World War. The
“modernist homosexual aesthetic” should be understood as that aesthetic that (1) is
developed by the homosexual subject, (2) expresses homosexual self-determination, (3)
portrays homosexuality as natural, “normal,” and “aesthetically pleasing” (thereby “norming”
the homosexual), (4) is a “product” of modernity that emerges from the “crisis” of
masculinity, and (5) as such, is “disseminated” among homosexuals via homosexual journals,
homosexual literature, and homosexual film.
Comparing the societal exclusion of Jews and homosexuals, George Mosse explains
that “[. . .] one of the most important factors that drove homosexuals to seek integration
into society was present among Jews as well, namely, the internalization of one’s own
stereotype as it had been created by society and the urgent wish to escape from its shadow”
(Image 151-52). Therefore, the main issue at hand is to determine how the once “sick” object
of a foreign, scientific gaze defiantly expresses himself against those definitions set upon him
by the medical community This community includes the progressive Hirschfeld as well as
Hirschfeld’s opponents, who still see homosexuality as pathological behavior.4
The aesthetic of a Third Sex is based on an aesthetic ideal of the nineteenth century:
androgyny. This stemmed from a misogynist fear of the woman’s body as the site of desire:
if art was to transcend a degenerate reality, the subject matter must not be sexually arousing.
As art historian Bram Dijkstra writes, men and boys would become the new—and “safe”—
ideal of beauty, “[. . .] for how could man be sensuously tempted by man?” (198). He
continues to explain that by 1900
[a] new admiration developed for the special beauty of the male. Man, it was
now argued, with numerous quotations from Plato, had all the “soft,”
physical attractions of woman, plus the male’s exclusive capacity for
intellectual transcendence. The ephebe, the sensitive male adolescent, not
woman, was the true ideal of aesthetic beauty. (199-200).5
40
With his introduction of a multi-gendered aesthetic into scientific discourse via the Third Sex
Theory and his positive portrayal of sexuelle Zwischenstufen, Hirschfeld was adding fuel to the
chaotic fire that threatened (or in a positive sense, promised) to engulf traditional gender
performance at this time of gender crisis in Germany.6 Hirschfeld was indeed doing justice
to gender performance by allowing individuals to perform their gender not only according to
their sexual–, but also to their “gender orientation.” Die Freundschaft and Radszuweit’s Die
Insel are pro-Hirschfeld. There is a discernable difference between the gender constructions
portrayed in Die Freundschaft and in Die Insel, which stands aesthetically somewhere between
Der Eigene and Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory. For Die Gemeinschaft der Eigenen, Hirschfeld’s
portrayals of “masculine” women and “effeminate” men in works such as GeschlechtsÜbergänge and Berlins Drittes Geschlecht underscore the social stereotypes of homosexuals as
“perversions”—rather than “variations”—from the gender and sexual norm.7 Die
Gemeinschaft der Eigenen saw Hirschfeld’s Urning as a threat to “homosexual masculinity,” and
refused to be bound by Hirschfeld’s “Uranian petticoat.8 Instead, they counter Hirschfeld’s
theories with images of “healthy,” “masculine” homosexuals in picture and in word. 9
Rejecting the “Effeminate” Medical Model: The Körperpanzer of the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen
Adolf Brand’s elitist aesthetic circle of Gemeinschaft der Eigenen contributed largely to the
masculine aesthetic of “male friendship.” Their journal Der Eigene, as well as the journals Die
Freundschaft and Die Insel play an extremely important role for the development, maintenance,
and dissemination of such an aesthetic: an aesthetic anchored in Greek Classicism and also
steeped in Germanic mythology. Highly emotional (pathetisch) and largely German (Aryan)nationalistic,10 the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen incorporates “German” and/or “Greek” sujets in its
writing and in its photography. In that the journal based itself on such sophisticated artistic
41
traditions, Brand and the authors of Der Eigene believed that they would be protected from
the threat of censorship, which was certainly not the case.11 In addition, they also strove to
legitimize this modernist homosexual aesthetic among homosexuals and among the “less
cultivated” heterosexual population.12
Many scholars place Hirschfeld and Brand in two markedly different camps, since
their only common goal is the repeal of § 175. The physician Hirschfeld would be
understood as the “modernist” thinker in the liberal sense, as he bases his thinking on a
progressive, biological model of homosexuality. It is precisely this medical model of
homosexuality that Brand and Der Eigene reject, promoting instead the Greek ideal of
“pedagogical Eros” and the German tradition of Freundesliebe. However, to say that Der Eigene
shows no modernist traits at all would be a fallacy. The gendering of the male remains in
crisis both for hetero- and homosexual males and fluctuates greatly during the thirty years in
question in this chapter. Accordingly, the reader of the Der Eigene, Die Freundschaft, and Die
Insel notices a strong change in the visual representation of the modernist homosexual
aesthetic in the time before, during, and after the First World War. The ideal German
[homosexual] male of Der Eigene not only ages from a teenager to mid-twenties and above,
but also is portrayed as soldier, as proletarian: in short, as a product of his time, not as a
romantic ideal. By the early 1930s, the body of the ideal German homosexual male, like its
environs, becomes more “hardened.” Indeed, it represents modernism to its extreme, when
“Man” would become a strong, swift, and efficient “Machine.”
When discussing the homosexual male body in modernist terms—and in terms of
the modernist homosexual aesthetic—one must consider Theweleit’s concept of the
Körperpanzer. While Theweleit’s object of research is the Freicorps of the Third Reich, the
Körperpanzer model is helpful in understanding the “sum total” crisis of masculinity—
42
including hetero- and homosexual, and anything in between these polarities—with the rise of
modernism at the turn of the century. As early as Germany’s victory over France in 1871,
the ideal male is the strong male soldier, who is pure, hardened, and uniformed. The new
German empire defines itself vis-à-vis these strong young men; truly, it is suggested that
Germany’s victory over France as well as its very existence depends solely on such men.13
Theweleit suggests that the subconscious sexual drive acts as a Wunschmaschine, which must
either be acted upon or repressed. In order to protect the “masculine” and “pure” core of
the strong male from “woman”—the threatening, sexualized, “fluid” “Sumpf der
Männlichkeit”—the strong male must repress his sexual drive.14 In doing so, the male assumes
a Körperpanzer, a strong “body shield,” so that the contours of the male’s “pure” masculinity
would not be compromised.
Theweleit’s model is based on the assumption that the male is heterosexual and that
the object of the male’s gaze/desire is a woman. How would one reformulate Theweleit’s
thesis now, twenty-five years later, to include the possibility that the object of the male’s
gaze/desire were a man? Here, the subject’s sexual orientation is not important. What is important
is that the strong, pure male subject must “don” his Körperpanzer in order to maintain the
contours of his masculinity, and thereby maintain gender polarities. In addition, he must
repress sexual desires to protect himself and his Gemeinschaft (be it a Männerbund, a military
division, or the German State) from effeminate, “fluid,” “diseased,” “impure” infiltration.
This “infiltration” could either be female or male. From the mid-1920s to the 1930, it is
precisely this importance attributed to the male Körperpanzer and the danger of being seen as
a further threat to masculinity that bring an end to gender deconstruction and incorporates
“normal” masculinity in the modernist homosexual aesthetic. In fine: we see that it is not
43
sexualities, but gender performance that propel a gradual rejection of Hirschfeld’s progressive
Third Sex model.
More than “Just Art”: Homosexual Photography and the Dissemination of the Modernist Homosexual
Aesthetic
Before one can understand homosexual photography as art, one must understand what
“homosexual photography” is. In interdisciplinary studies, it has become common and
desirable to cross-analyze the common denominator of varying media, namely, the medium’s
narrative strategy. In this spirit, I base my definition of “homosexual photography” on
Marita Keilson-Lauritz’s definition of “homosexual literature” (188, 198). “Homosexual
photography” is to be understood in this study as (1) images produced by homosexuals with
sujets that have found a firm footing in homosexual visual memory, (2) images that would be
generally referred to as explicitly or subtly homoerotically connoted, and (3) images that
circulated among homosexuals largely in private collections and/or homosexual journals.
The purpose of such photography is to promote not only the ideal of male beauty in the age
of modernism, but also to include male-male love within modernism’s larger cultural
aesthetic.
As discussed in the first chapter, photography was embraced by physicians from
Charcot to Hirschfeld as “scientific documentation” of patients ranging from hysterics to
sexual intermediaries. From our postmodern standpoint, we realize that photographs are
anything but objective visual representations. In his article “Vision and Cognition,” scholar
Krzysztof Pomian reminds the reader of general theories of vision from antiquity: to know is
to see; vision is the ultimate model of both sensory and intellectual cognition. In his
discussion of indirect cognition vis-à-vis photography, Pomian suggests that the
viewer/subject’s cognition of the photographed object is distorted and estranged, not
44
enhanced. The viewer’s cognition is indirect—the image, the photograph is a result of
interaction between the camera and the photographed object. While photographs offer a
forum for reflection and discussion of the photographed object, this reflection and
discussion is decidedly subjective. Hirschfeld discusses this aspect of homosexual photography
for homosexuals in his 1913-14 study, Die Homosexualität des Mannes und Weibes:
Es gibt unter den homosexuellen Männern und Frauen sehr viele, die
bildliche Darstellungen des von ihnen geliebten Typus bei sich führen, vor
allem natürlich Bilder von Personen, deren Originale ihnen persönlich
bekannt sind oder nahe stehen. Brieftaschen homosexueller Männer und
Frauen, die keine Abbilder der ihnen anziehend erscheinenden Personen
enthalten, gehören zu den Seltenheiten. Vor einiger Zeit hatte ich einen aus §
175 angeklagten Menschen zu begutachten, dessen strafbarer Verkehr von
einem erpresserischen Wirt durch ein in die Tür gebohrtes Loch beobachtet
war. Während der Verhandlung fielen mir seine Manschettenknöpfe auf. Als
ich sie näher betrachtete, waren es auf kleinen Porzellantäfelchen angefertigte
Photographien seines mitangeklagten Freundes.
Besonders für Selbstanfertigung von Photographien in allen
möglichen Stellungen besitzen viele Homosexuelle eine wahre Leidenschaft,
bei einigen erstreckt sich diese Neigung namentlich auf Herstellung von
Aktphotographien; andere begnügen sich mit deren Besitz. Die von einigen
italienischen und deutschen Firmen, deren Eigentümer meist selbst
homosexuell sind, angefertigten männlichen Akte befinden sich in tausenden
Exemplaren in den Händen von Homosexuellen aller Erdteile. Dabei ist zu
bedenken, daß, so sehr der Besitz solcher Kollektionen für homosexuelle
Neigungen spricht – absolut beweisend ist er natürlich nicht – , keineswegs
durch ihn festgestellt wird, daß der Inhaber sich seiner Homosexualität
bewußt gewesen ist oder gar homosexuelle Akte ausgeführt hat. Ich hebe das
hervor, weil wiederholt die Beschlagnahme solcher Bilder in diesem Sinne
gedeutet wird. (67-68)
As Hirschfeld’s analysis indicates, photography is not only a subjective medium, but it is also
a political medium. Therefore, it almost goes without saying that the aesthetic surrounding
homosexual photography is highly political in nature. Keilson-Lauritz refers to Niklas
Luhmann’s schema of the interplay between science, politics, and the arts, which is
organized around the difference between “true” and “false”:
die medizinische Wissenschaft stellt die Ätiologie, Diagnostik und die
Therapiemöglichkeiten der ›angewandten‹ Medizin zur Verfügung,
45
die Politologie bzw. die Rechtswissenschaft leisten Vergleichbares für
die Systeme Politik und Recht,
Ethik und Ästhetik sind die zugehörigen Reflexionstheorien der
Systeme Moral und Kunst.
[. . .] Auf solche sozialen Funktionssysteme verweisen die oben erläuterten
Codierungen zum Teil, sie sind ihnen aber nicht eindeutig zuzuordnen, fast alle
scheinen an mehreren Systemen Anteil haben zu können. (223, emphasis mine).
According to this model, “art” is never free from political or from scientific classifications of
good or bad, true or false. As recently as 1990, conservative Christian aesthetics guided city
officials in Cincinnati, OH USA to label an exhibit of photographs by Robert Mapplethorpe
as “homosexual” and thereby “pornographic”—and thereby “illegal.” The exhibit was
banned and art director of the Cincinnati Contemporary Arts Center was arrested.15 Guided
by “modernist homosexual aesthetics,” homosexuals (and hetero-sympathizers) in Cincinnati
labeled the exhibit as “art” and the City’s actions as “unconstitutional.” This example also
illustrates the key role that aesthetics plays in the creation of a (sub)cultural identity and
memory. As Kennan Ferguson explains, “[. . .] aesthetics is valuable as a political focus:
Aesthetics foreground the reciprocity of relationships that is necessary for any politics interested
in the complementary aspects of identity” (ix, emphasis mine). With such issues in mind, this
example proves that postmodern aesthetics are still largely anchored in modernism, and
therefore the problematic interplay between medicine, politics, law, ethics, and aesthetics—
especially with regard to “homosexuality”—still begs for critical analysis.
The Politics and Aesthetics of the “German Body” and Its Influence on the Modernist Homosexual
Aesthetic
When discussing the development of the visual modernist homosexual aesthetic, one must
consider the larger contemporary context to which it belonged. The founding of the
Gemeinschaft der Eigenen, its journal Der Eigene, and Hirschfeld’s Jahrbuch für sexuelle
46
Zwischenstufen occurred at a time of crisis within the German “body politic”—in quite literal
terms. From the turn of the nineteenth to the twentieth century, the poor living conditions
and long work hours that accompanied rapid industrialization and urbanization moved some
German intellectuals to argue for a “return to nature.” The “German body”—both
individual and collective—was again the point of departure for such discourses that led to
such movements as the Wandervogel or the Freikörperkultur. These movements were seen as
corrective measures against a degeneration of the body through urban life, especially in
Berlin.16 This sentiment is strongly expressed in the top story of an issue of Nackt-Sport,
entitled “Unser Ziel!”
Wir Nacktsportler wollen erst einmal gründlich “nacktgehen” lernen, d. h.,
wir wollen erreichen, daß uns von Zeit zu Zeit Nacktsein, wie beispielsweise
Essen und Trinken, selbstverständliches Lebensbedürfnis wird. Dann erst
wird sich zeigen, welcher weitere Fehler zuerst abzulegen ist, welcher danach
usw., damit wir am Schluß der Reformation (lies Dressur): d e s M e n s c h s e i n s nicht nur würdig erscheinen, sondern in der Tat auch sind und
bleiben. (313)
In the same year that this statement was published (1925), the culture film Wege zur Kraft und
Schönheit was released. The suggestion of Greek and Roman body culture in the film was not
to be overlooked, neither by its proponents, nor by its critics—namely the Catholic Church.
In an issue of Licht-Land, the article “Über ‘Nacktkultrummel’ und dergleichen” offers a
reception of contemporary criticism on the film Wege zur Kraft und Schönheit. A certain Bishop
Schreiber of Meißen is quoted as having criticized the film, “ [. . .] ‘da dieser Film in seiner
Gesamtrichtung
eine
Verherrlichung
griechisch-römischer
Körperkultur
und
Schönheitspflege ist, der christlichen Auffassung unbedingt entgegensteht und darum von
uns abgelehnt wird . . .’” (166). Despite such criticism, the movement continued, and the
ideals of the Freikörperkultur were disseminated throughout Germany via film and periodicals,
which sometimes featured photographs. In his study Lichtkämpfer, Sonnenfreunde und wilde
47
Nackte, Hans Bergemann explains the importance of such photographs within the larger
nudism movement:
Der Aktfotografie kommt von Beginn an in den Publikationen der
Nacktkulturbewegung eine besondere Bedeutung zu. Sie soll das gewünschte
Bild einer ‘natürlichen’ Nacktheit der Menschen vermitteln und einen
‘keuschen Blick’ auf nackte Körper einüben helfen. Typische sind die
sogenannten ‘Schönheitsbilder’. Die Aufnahmen – fast ausschließlich
Frauenakte – werden zumeist in der freien Natur, an Seen, am Meer, in
idyllischen Gärten oder in Wald und Feld inszeniert. Hinweise auf die
technische Zivilisation bleiben selbst im Bildhintergrund ausgespart.
Nacktheit erscheint als Teil einer ‘reiner und unschuldigen Natur’. (11)
As discussed in the previous chapter, philosophers from Barthes to Benjamin have suggested
that photography imparts its own “language.”17 This photographic language transforms that
which cannot be expressed by words into an iconographic language. Through perpetually
repeated representation of sujets, topoi, themes, and “primal scenes” in the visual arts, a
cultural language emerges. The “linguistic turn” becomes a “pictorial turn,” allowing for an
interaction between image and observer.
When observing homosexual photographs in such homosexual journals as Der
Eigene, Die Freundschaft, and Die Insel, the visual, iconographic, cultural language allows the
observer to relate these photographs to a larger context or contexts. In other words, the
contemporary observer of the homosexual photographs in Der Eigene would have drawn
either consciously or subconsciously upon contemporary visual discourses such as those
involving Freikörperkultur, body politics, health issues, and sexuality. The educated observer
also would have consciously or subconsciously related homosexual photography to GrecoRoman body politics, body aesthetics, and sexuality. It is the ability of the male homosexual
to contextualize himself within “legitimate” aesthetic and political discourses that gives rise
to a self-awareness and self-worth, in short, legitimacy.
48
Such cultural language can allow for self-realization and thereby the development of
a community, as evidenced by Die Gemeinschaft der Eigenen. However, in “incorporating” those
ideal persons such as the strong, hyper-masculine, “German” male, others are automatically
excluded from said community. Those who are excluded include those “males” of
Hirschfeld’s “Third Sex,” the male homosexual, the effeminized male, and for some, Jews.18
These persons are not represented either visually or bodily within such organizations.
“[E]in ernst zu nehmendes Kunstblatt”:19 Artistic Form in Defense of Questionable Content
Magnus Hirschfeld’s visual representations of the homosexual were largely medical in nature.
In contrast, the photographs that were featured in homosexual journals such as Der Eigene,
Die Freundschaft, and Die Insel were part and parcel of the modernist homosexual aesthetic,
and served to emancipate and legitimize homosexuals, if not among the public at large, then
at least among the homosexuals themselves. This is not to say that Magnus Hirschfeld was
not seeking the same emancipation and legitimacy for homosexuals with his medical
pictures; however, Adolf Brand and other homosexuals who were opposed to Hirschfeld
saw these representations as demeaning. According to Adolf Brand, Brand and Hirschfeld
shared the struggle to repeal § 175, yet the means to the desired end were different. Whereas
Hirschfeld’s Wissenschaftlich-humanitäre Komitee fought with the “Waffen der Wissenschaft,”
Brand and Der Eigene utilized the “Waffen der Kunst” (as cited in Keilson-Laurtiz 61).
Initially, the aesthetic divide between Hirschfeld and Brand was not that great, in that
young men who bore a strong resemblance to Hirschfeld’s Third Sex were portrayed in Der
Eigene, Die Freundschaft and Die Insel. In keeping with contemporary tastes, early issues of Der
Eigene featured photographs of young ephebes. This visual experimentation with the Third
Sex and the opportunities it afforded men who desired men suggests that there was a general
acceptance among homosexuals of a plurality of masculinities. Yet by the mid to late 1920s,
49
a gender re-polarization was occurring in the public at large, as evidenced by the trend in
women’s fashion away from the “masculine” Bubikopf to the “feminine” Gretchenzopf. This
gender re-polarization was also reflected in homosexual photography. The prominent image
was that of the “masculine” homosexual, whose body was hardened through discipline and
exercise. Such images also fostered the ideal of Gemeinschaft among “masculine” and
“healthy” nude men engaging in outdoor group sports. Healthy bodies, natural environment,
male-male friendship: these “ideals” not only complemented each other, but also fulfilled
one another, since photographs expressed them as a singular visual statement. These
photographs enriched the cultural iconographical language, “proving” herewith not only that
male-male sexuality is a natural and healthy part of the human condition, but that it also can
be accepted and expressed as a legitimate, artistic moment.
It is important to note that the strategy to legitimize nude photography in the
homosexual sphere is largely identical to the controversy surrounding Aktstudien aimed at a
(male) heterosexual audience. Dr. Erich Wulffen, Ministerialdirector a. D., Dresden and author
of various Sittengeschichten–studies in the late 1920s and early 1930s, writes in his 1932 study
of heterosexual erotic photography that
[d]er Schritt, der von der Porträtaufnahme des Kindes, der Gattin oder
Liebsten zur Aktaufnahme führt, liegt nahe und ist menschlich begreiflich.
Denn die Aktaufnahme, die ohne Nebengedanken und Hinüberschielen zu
den Sphären der Obszönität gemacht wird, entspricht dem Wunsch, das Bild
des geliebten und darum schön erscheinenden Menschen oder auch in aller
Objektivität als ästhetisch schön erkannten Modells rein und unbeeinflußt durch jedes
fremde Beiwerk, also nackt, zu gewinnen und als dauernden Besitz zu
bewahren. (Ergänzungsband 5)
50
At the end of the work, there appears an order form for Die legitime Erotik that promises
“[d]en ethischen Zweck, den normalen Menschen über die Rechte seines Geschlechtslebens
aufzuklären, ihm Führer und Ratgeber zu sein” (Die legitime Erotik).20
To be sure, the law in Weimar Germany did not differentiate between heterosexual
and homosexual erotic literature. Paragraph 184—“Verbreitung unzüchtiger Schriften”—was
made law in 1871 and was reformed in 1900; in 1900 § 184a—“Gefährdung der Jugend durch
schamlose Schriften”—was introduced, which banned literature or images that were not
necessarily “indecent,” but which could possibly “grossly insult” the good taste of the
normal citizen (Dobler 87-88).21 With regard to homosexual literature, historian Jens Dobler
explains
[. . .] [d]ass der Begriff “Pornographie” in Bezug auf (homo-)erotische
Literatur selten (obwohl es ihn gab) Verwendung fand. Viel eher wurden die
damals gängigeren Begriffe “Schund- und Schmutzliteratur” oder
“unzüchtige Schriften” benutzt, die heute nicht mehr gebräuchlich sind. [. . .]
Den Begriff “unzüchtige Schriften” erläuterte der Polizeipraktiker
Reinhold Lehnert 1931: “Unzüchtig, ist eine Schrift, Abbildung oder
Darstellung, [wenn sie] geeignet ist, das Scham- und Sittlichkeitsgefühl in
geschlechtlicher Beziehung zu verletzen. Das normale, also das natürliche
Schamgefühl ist maßgebend, nicht die Auffassung eines überempfindlichen
Menschen” (85-86).
Just as the people’s “natural sense of shame” draws the boundary between “decent” (normal,
respectable) and “indecent” (base, degenerate) literature, so too does this sense of shame
shape aesthetic discourse of the time. This is evidenced by the contemporary critic Paul
Englisch’s definition of offensive, erotic, “gallant” literature: 22
Wir wollen den Begriff ‘galante Literatur’ nicht so weit fassen, und verstehen
darunter lediglich den Teil der erotischen Literatur, der unter Beiseitesetzung
jeglicher sinnlichen Empfindung dem Wunsche entsprungen ist, durch grelle,
aber kalte Geistesblicke, die das Gebiet der Erotik streifen, zur geselligen
Unterhaltung beizutragen oder einen gewünschten Eindruck zu erzielen. Das
gesunde und natürliche Empfinden wird ausgeschaltet, und die
Liebesbeziehung zweier Menschen gilt lediglich als anatomisches Objekt für
die Sezierkunst des nüchtern reflektierenden Verstandes” (4).
51
However, as Dobler asks: what was the natural sense of shame of the “normal” citizen in
Weimar Germany? When discussing German homosexual art not just in the Weimar period,
but also in the time before and during the First World War, homosexual media would be
excluded de facto from the realm of respectable art and literature based on the homosexual’s
marginal societal status.
In light of such censorship, homosexual photography drew its inspiration from the
cultural iconographic language in order to legitimize the modernist homosexual aesthetic.23
Not only content, which was often based on mythological figures from Germanic, GrecoRoman, or Judeo-Christian tradition, but also form, which included the Emblematik tradition
from the German Early Modern period were used time and again. It is this constant
repetition of such posing, images, words, and artistic forms that served to further ground the
modernist homosexual aesthetic in the larger context of the German cultural iconographic
language.
From the Third Sex to the Voll-Mann: Classical sujets
Many Aktstudien in Der Eigene, Die Freundschaft, and Die Insel can be traced back to sujets of
Classical Antiquity. The first example (fig. 8) appeared as an isolated picture; neither
photographer nor a title was given. This is the portrait of a young man in his early twenties.
His body is turned toward the camera, thus exposing his genitals to the gaze of the camera
and of the viewer. His dark hair, emphasized by the dark background, suggests a southern
European ethnicity. Although his face is hidden to some degree by shadows, the areas of the
body typically associated with sexuality (upper body, genitals, and thighs) are bathed in light,
an aesthetic representation of male sensuality.
This photograph incorporates several sujets into one artistic expression. The
predominant theme is that of the Dornauszieher, a motif that can be traced back to the
Fig. 8. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Der Eigene 6 (1906): 151.
52
53
Hellenistic age. A favorite subject in the plastic art of this period was children, who
symbolized a zest for life. Historian Margarete Bieber lists other favored motifs of the
period, which include “Pan teaching a winged young man (Eros?), and a pedagogue, bent by
age, teaching a young child” (104). These represent “[. . .] fine studies in the contrast of
grotesque old age and blooming youth” (104). Thus, the Dornauszieher is a scene of injury,
but more importantly, an injury as a result of youthful play. This motif is also related to the
motif of pedagogical Eros between older men and younger boys.
It is important to note that Bieber bases her research on that of Theodor Wiegand,
the most important Berlin anthropologist at the turn of the century. A small sculpture of the
Dornauszieher was featured in Wiegand’s 1904 excavation catalogue, Priene: Ergebnisse der
Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in den Jahren 1895-1898 (fig 9). This catalogue was published
in Berlin, and it would be safe to argue that those interested in the tradition of Greek
pedagogical Eros—namely the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen—would have taken a keen interest in
this catalogue from a recent excavation. The Dornauszieher marks not only a contemporary
interest in Greek tradition, but also the importance of German archaeology as a link for
contemporary aesthetes to this cultural tradition.
The object of the homosexual gaze (here, the Dornauszieher) becomes the object of
homosexual desire. Hirschfeld not only links homoeroticism with the homosexual aesthetic,
but he incorporates both into German Classicism:
Wenn G o e t h e einmal zur Erklärung der päderastischen Neigungen
W i n c k e l m a n n s ausführt, ‘daß die ästhetische Bewunderung bei ihm
zur sinnlichen Leidenschaft geworden ist’, so ist auch der große Weimaraner
hier dem so häufigen Trugschlusse unterlegen, in dem was Ursache ist, die
Wirkung zu sehen. Es wird hier eben wie so oft im Liebesleben S u b j e k t i v e s unbewußt o b j e k t i v i e r t. Eher darf man annehmen, daß
Winckelmanns urnisches Empfinden mitsprach, wenn er die antiken
Jünglingsstatuen eines Antinous und Hermes so viel höher stellte als die einer
Artemis und Aphrodite. Ein urnischer Kammerdiener schrieb mir einmal: ‘In
54
Fig 9. Photographer Unknown. “Abb. 434, 435. Berlin 8626 [Dornauszieher].” Wiegand,
Theodor. Priene: Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in den Jahren 1895-1898. Berlin:
G. Reimer, 1904.
einem Palais, wo ich diente, streichelte ich oft ungesehen über die
Schamgegend am belvederischen Apoll.’ (Hirschfeld, Homosexualität 66)24
Hirschfeld’s statement is both a scientific analysis and a historical study of the male
homosexual gaze. Winckelmann’s aesthetic analysis of ancient Greek male statues is not only
the genesis of German Classic aesthetics, but it is also a “Uranian” objectification of a living
or static male subject. As Robert Tobin has suggested, this very intersection of aesthetics and
sexuality constituted a “queer proto-identity” (23). Whether in the late eighteenth or early
twentieth century, this identity had its own set of signifiers, including “the love of Greece,
the desire for a good friend, [and] the absence of a wife” (22).
55
Figure 8 incorporates some of the aforementioned signifiers. While supporting
himself on the stump with his right hand, the model stands on the left leg and raises the
right leg, touching the right foot with the left hand. The pose is not heroic; rather, with the
body bent or folded forward, it expresses a sense of shame that one typically finds in plastic
representations of women.25 Resting his right hand on the stump, the union of model and
stump creates a physical and artistic totality. In this photograph, “nature” is
artificial/artistic—künstlich: the stump is plaster and the photograph is taken indoors. Not
only does this photograph express Classical aesthetics, but also traces of Romanticism: the
blasted stump suggests a sudden end to life, as in the case of a tree blasted by a bolt of
lightening. This interruption of life is reflected in the model’s pose and self-examination,
which suggest a weakened and vulnerable physical and psychological state.
This photograph exemplifies a juncture of Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory and the
modernist homosexual aesthetic. As already discussed, the sujets, pose, and setting fulfill the
aesthetic criteria of Adolf Brand and Der Eigene. However, although the model is not entirely
a “Durchschnittstypus,” he is by no means a “Voll-Mann.” The model’s body contours are soft;
his breasts slightly “female,” much like Hirschfeld’s “Durchschnittstypus” (ch. 1, fig. 6). These
features are even more pronounced in fig. 10, a photograph of a young man in his early
twenties that has been reworked by the photographer. The primary sexual characteristics—
the genitals and the breasts—have been “enhanced” so that it is difficult to determine if they
are male or female. The genitals have been scratched out and the space darkened in, leaving
nothing but a faint outline of what might be a penis and testes. The lower outlines of the
breasts have been penciled in, suggesting an “effeminate” roundness or “excess.” Bodily
features are out of proportion in terms of “normal” sex and gender: there is a “lack” where
56
there “should” be “substance” (the genitalia), and an “excess” where there “should” be
“restrained development” (the breasts).
The only part of the model’s body that has not been reworked is his face. Like the
model in fig. 8, the face and extremities are in the shadows, while the upper body, genitals,
and thighs are much lighter. The one concrete external prop against which the figure can be
defined—the spear—“dissolves” at both ends into the shadows. Even the feet are
transparent, as if the model were not bodenfest or lacking Beständigkeit. Despite the strong
body outline, the model’s body is transparent, suggesting an aura without form. It is precisely
this aura and the inversion of “representing the unseen” that makes this photograph so
intriguing. The “aura” radiates upwards from the feet and outwards from the figure. This
gives the impression that the shoulders are broader than they actually are in relation to the
hips, thus lending a degree of “masculinity” to the figure, and also adds an air of majesty to
the pose. This image, which appears more than twenty years after fig.8, is a positive portrayal
of the Third Sex.
However, such portrayals were few and far between. By the 1930s, gendering of the
“masculine” and “feminine” body had been restored to a pre-Hirschfeldian gender polarity
(cf. Preface 6). The predominant visual construction of the male homosexual body could be
compared to Hirschfeld’s “Voll-Mann,” a male that possessed no effeminate or
hermaphroditic primary sexual characteristics. The return to a “muscle cult” recalled the
Greco-Roman ideal of masculine beauty. The homosexual male body expressed a harmony
in form and in spirit: not only did the body of the male express an aesthetic harmony with its
proportionate features and strong, trained muscles, but its essence also expressed a will to
power vis-à-vis the male gaze and muscular tension. Truly, Nietzsche’s “Wille zur Kraft”
rendered the icon of strong male body as the signifier of the Wille zur Macht from the turn of
57
Fig. 10. Jaeger, Walter (Berlin). No Title. Die Insel 4.5 (1929): 20. This photograph had
already appeared one year prior in Die Insel 3.5 (1928): 139.
58
the century onward. Walter Hammer, author of Erzieher von Mannhaftigkeit (1913) portrayed
Nietzsche as the most notable proponent of “masculinity” and “health” of recent times:
Nietzsche [. . .] hat eine Art Vergöttlichung des Leibes gelehrt. Ich bin der Meinung, daß
man all unsere modernen Körperkulturbewegungen [. . .] mehr oder weniger auf
Nietzsche zurückrufen darf. Eine wesentliche Befruchtung durch ihn ist jedenfalls
unverkennbar. (qtd. in Linse 167)26
The modernist homosexual aesthetic did not develop independently from the larger cultural
context. Gender polarities and gender boundaries both within the hetero- and homosexual
population were embraced in order to restore order to the “gender trouble” often parodied
in the Weimar Republic (see fig. 11). The Hirschfeldian model made visible sexual
intermediaries, homosexuals, and persons of indeterminate sex, gender, and/or sexual
orientation. However, such images were not incorporated into the modernist [male]
homosexual aesthetic or the cultural iconographic language because they signified grotesque
perversions and curiosities for both hetero- and homosexuals.27
In 1931, Dr. Emil Schaeffer and Prof. Eugen Matthias published Der männliche Körper,
a catalogue of male nude Aktstudien.28 In the introduction to the catalogue, Dr. Schaeffer
offers history of the male nude from classical antiquity to modern times:
Wenn Heine ‘des Weibes Leib’ als ‘ein Gedicht’ bewundert, ‘das Gott, der
Herr, geschrieben’, so lässt sich der Körper des Mannes einer heroischen
Ballade vergleichen. Die Schönheit ihres Strophenbaues, ihre kunstvolle
Gliederung, die Gesetze ihrer wunderreichen Rhythmik, – dies alles zu
erklären bleibe dem Gelehrten vorbehalten, der die einzelnen Abbildungen
dieses Bandes würdigen soll; hier sei lediglich auf ein – im grossen historischen
Zusammenhange – noch niemals behandeltes Thema hingewiesen, auf die
Frage, ‘Was bedeutet jeweils dem Manne sein Körper?’ Gnade oder
Verhängnis, Geschenk einer Gottheit oder Versuchung des Teufels...? Bei
ihrer Beantwortung geht es um ethische Probleme und ästhetische zugleich,
die sich in ein paar Zeilen kaum hineinzwängen lassen. Der Weg ist weit und
oft in Dunkel gehüllt; nur wenige Lämpchen können hier angezündet
werden, um ihn notdürftig zu erhellen. (4)
59
Fig. 11. “Lotte am Scheideweg.” Simplicissimus 5 (1925): 79. Rpt. in Eldorado: Homosexuelle
Frauen und Männer in Berlin 1850-1950. Geschichte, Alltag und Kultur. (Berlin: Fröhlich &
Kaufmann, 1984): 135.
Schaeffer shrouds his thesis question—“Was bedeutet jeweils dem Manne sein Körper?”—
with problematic formulas of gender, ethics, and politics. From his mathematical ratios of
“woman : poem” and “man : ballad,” Schaeffer creates a “gendered aesthetic” that gives
priority to the male body: “woman : poem” < “man : ballad.” While the female body
incorporates poetic form, Schaeffer likens it to a “poem” that was “written” by God. In
contrast, Schaeffer’s suggestion of the “heroism” of the male body lends a selbstschöpferisch,
Promethean “will to power” to the male body. By suggesting that the male body and spirit is
auto-reproductive, the female element is again completely eliminated from the male and
60
relegated to the realm of that which is superfluous, the ornamental.29 It is no surprise, then,
that Schaeffer opens his discussion with a quote from Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra: “Es
ist mehr Vernunft in deinem Leibe, als in deiner besten Weisheit” (4).
What does the man’s body mean to man? The male body has been elevated from the
corporal to the ethereal; from mere signifier to a Kantian “idea.” It is simultaneously
“signifier” and “signified.” This idea is of course nothing new in 1931 in Germany. Schaeffer
traces the idea of the male body as “Heiligtum” and “Halbgott” from 510 B.C. in Sicily, to
Euripides and the ancient Greeks, to the Renaissance, to German Romanticism, and finally
to modernist Europe. If indeed Schaeffer’s study is the first to ask “What does the man’s
body mean to man?”, this would be indicative of the modernist fascination with the
possibilities of the human (or at least male) body.
This document can be read as a catalogue of hieroglyphics; of individual masculine
gestures, each expressing an “aesthetically pleasing” masculine enunciation, such as
“strength” or “movement,” or even psychological conditions such as “grief” or “joy.” For
each photograph, there was an accompanying text that served to “translate” the visual
message into words. Taken together, these gestures incorporate an iconographical language
of ideal masculine gender and body performance. I do not want to suggest that Schaeffer’s
publication inspired the modernist homosexual aesthetic; homosexual journals had been in
existence since the turn of the century. I do offer Schaeffer as evidence of (1) the repolarization of the genders by the late 1920s / early 1930s, (2) the glorification of the male
body, and (3) as a resumeé of the development of acceptable visual portrayals of masculinity
not only in the macro-cultural context, but also in the iconography of the modernist
homosexual aesthetic (and therewith a rejection of iconography of Hirschfeld’s Third Sex).
Truly, contemporary homosexual journals drew upon this iconography and published
61
pictures of men who not only looked masculine, but who also enunciated masculinity through
“masculine” poses. This not only legitimized the journal, but also male-male desire.
A prime example of this strategy is fig. 12. This photograph has been reprinted as in
the original: it occupies an entire page, is untitled, and no photographer is referenced. The
model is naked, but his genitals are protected from the viewer’s gaze. On the one hand, this
suggests that in order to retain the “purity” of male beauty, the signifier of the signified
(male beauty) should not be the male genitalia, but rather the entirety and unity of the male
body. The portrayal of a strong male body automatically connotes the image or idea of the
male genitalia. On the other hand, this pose might have been selected in order to circumvent
any possible censorship.30 The young man is in his early twenties, and the viewer’s gaze is
drawn to his dark hair and eyes. The gaze of the model is defiant, as if the model were daring
the viewer to fix his/her gaze upon the model, or as if the model were examining the viewer.
Therefore, along with fulfilling the viewer’s voyeuristic urge, the photograph fulfills the
viewer’s desire to be observed, to be objectified by a strong, virile man. The “meeting of the gazes”
of model and viewer might also provide an opportunity for the viewer to see in himself
(assuming that the viewer is male) the male heroism as suggested by Schaeffer. In Der
männlichen Körper, co-author Prof. Eugen Matthias provides the following “textual
translation” of this particular visual instance of masculinity:
Das Ueberkreuzen der Beine, die natürliche Haltung der Arme und endlich
die Gegenwendung des Kopfes bewirken ein reizvolles Linienspiel. [. . .] Alles
in diesem Körper ist Wille, das innere Gespanntsein drängt den Körper nach vorn.
(11-12, emphasis mine)
In accordance with classical aesthetics, the model and his pose portray suspended animation—
or in terms of Schaeffer’s patriarchal, Nietzschean, (and also homoerotic) aesthetic, a tension
between “[. . .] Gnade oder Verhängnis, Geschenk einer Gottheit oder Versuchung des
Teufels [. . .]” (4).
Fig. 12. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Die Insel 4.4 (1929): 9.
62
63
Cultural Iconography, Homosexual Iconography
If the modernist homosexual aesthetic incorporated and reflected the ideal [homosexual]
male, it also incorporated and reflected his psyche and social condition. As in many other
artistic traditions, cultural myths and icons were incorporated into homosexual iconography
not only to express the “homosexual condition,” but also to legitimize it in a larger social
context. Photographs in Die Insel depict scenes from Judeo-Christian and Greco-Roman
myth. The context of these photographs was inherently duplicitous. The viewer would
initially understand the theme in its traditional cultural context. Upon further consideration,
the viewer (here I assume that the viewer is a homosexual male) would also “read” the
photograph as an illustration not only of [homo]masculinity but also of the contemporary
homosexual social condition. This condition was visually depicted by a victimized male, a
“bound” male, and/or a dying male. Important to note is that each aforementioned model
of the homosexual in society is not represented by a “sick” or “effeminate” male body, but
rather by a Voll-Mann.
Emblematik: Picture, Motto, and Text
The emblematic tradition began in the Early Modern Period as a means to express an ideal
both visually and textually. Comprised of three parts (picture, motto, and poem), each part
served to supplement the other and would be read together as a single utterance of a
particular ideal. For example, “Peace” would be represented as follows: A soldier’s helmet
would be pictured with bees swarming around it. The motto would read “Peace.” The
viewer would then understand that the picture was to represent “peace,” but would have
difficulty making a connection between picture and motto. The text would serve to explain
the picture and motto: In times of peace, armor lies forgotten, and life flourishes: the
industrious bees use the forgotten helmet as a hive in order to produce honey.31
64
I propose that this same strategy can be seen time and again in the homosexual
journals Der Eigene, Die Insel, and Die Freundschaft. The model’s pose expresses not only an
aesthetic but also a philosophical ideal via male youth and beauty. In addition, the use of
such homoerotic iconography in a legitimate artistic form such as the emblem would
safeguard the otherwise “artistic” journal from being categorized as pornography.32
Some emblems expressed the noble nature of the homosexual emancipation
movement. The “emblem” “Hobelspäne” (fig. 13) is not an emblem in the strict sense of the
term, but it employs an interplay between picture and text. The “ideal friend,” code for
“intimate” friend, is defined textually by the nine bullet points (“8.” has been omitted). The
language is that of a commandment: “Du sollst” (Thou shalt). these “ten” points are the ten
commandments for homosexuals. The homosexual is expected to yield his individual wishes
for his Artgenossen and for the whole, a critique of Eigennutz found so often in movements of
solidarity. Point 4 (nicht alles glauben, was “andere schwatzen”) could suggest resistance to societal
prejudices against homosexuals, or it could also suggest the danger of slander among
homosexuals. The fear of blackmail—from friends and foes alike—is expressed in Point 7
(keinen Artgenossen verleumden). This latter suggestion—the homosexual as blackmailer—is
discussed at length in ch. 4.
The photograph is a visual, masculine expression of the text that appears above the
photograph. In Der männliche Körper Schaeffer offers the following description of a similar
pose: “Entspannt ruht der Körper in einer nicht gewöhnlichen Gleichgewichtslage. Um sich
diese zu erhalten, muß er sich wie zu einer Kugel um den Gleichgewichtspunkt ballen” (15).
Describing the intertwined hands on the knee, Schaeffer writes: “Man beachtet das deutliche
Sich-Abheben der die Finger und Hand bewegenden Muskeln am linken Unterarm, sowie
die feine Sehnenführung vom Handgelenk zu den Fingern” (16).
65
Fig. 13. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Text: Kepplinger, Willi. “Hobelspäne.” Die Insel
1.4 (1926): 21.
66
Individually, the gestures can simultaneously be read as “relaxed” and “restful,” yet with
“inner tension”; “balanced” and “self-supporting” (or “-sustaining”). Taken together as one
enunciation, the sum total of gestures in this pose expresses the “ideal Friend.”
A more traditional example of Emblematik is that of “Sehnsucht” (fig. 14). The
frequency with which the themes Pathos and Sehnsucht appear in homosexual photography
and homosexual indicates the need for the homosexual to express—both visually and
textually—his “lonely fate” and his longing for a companion who would provide spiritual
completion.33 The model’s body is “masculine” in the traditional sense; his genitals are not
exposed to view, suggesting a sexual vulnerability. His pose is hardly heroic: “Ansprechende
Stellung. Schön ist die Plastik des Rückens. [. . .] Eine [. . .] Stellung, die aber die Arbeit der
Gesäß-, Rücken-, Schulter-, und Oberarmmuskeln wiedergibt” (Schaeffer 11). Together with
the muscular tension, the fact that the model cradles his own sunken head lends the
photograph a tragic beauty.
With sunken head and his back to the camera, the model could suggest “shame,”
“remorse,” or some other such sentiment.34 However, the caption (motto) connotes the
picture as “longing” (Sehnsucht). Schiller’s poem supplements this connotation. Both the
suggestion of Greek sculpture via the model’s graceful pose and the importance of German
Classicism via Schiller’s poem legitimize this homosexual emblem. Much like “Hobelspäne,”
the text suggests that the “individual” yield himself to the whole for the good of the whole.
Just as the sea and its current is made of many drops, so is the collective—and its productive
power—made up of many individuals. Thus, the longing of the homosexual for a
companion becomes his longing to belong to a whole.
Homosexual collectives did indeed exist, whether they were openly homosexual, as
in the case of Die Gemeinschaft der Eigenen and Bund für Menschenrecht, or “covertly”
Fig. 14. Photographer Unknown. “Sehnsucht.” Die Insel 3.1 (1928): 9.
67
68
homosexual, as in the case of the Wandervogel.35 The ideal of the Wandervogel movement is
paraphrased in the words of Hans Fritzsche:
Pfadfindertum ist Streben nach einem gestählten Leib
in Schönheit, Kraft und Gesundheit und einem festen Willen, der diesen Leib
beherrscht. (qtd. in Pretzel 81)
The emblem “Wandervogel” expresses Fritzsche’s ideals of beauty, strength, health, and a
strong will. Two male youths at play—“Ballspiel”—are photographed on an open field (fig.
15). Sehnsucht has been replaced with companionship—truly, the two bodies not only are in
contact, but they also mirror each other, creating a harmonious symmetrical unity. Even the
single pose suggests harmony and symmetry:
Dieses Motiv des rumpfgedrehten Streckens ist ein schönes Beispiel dafür,
wie die diagonalen Kräfte des Rumpfes sich zu einer spiraligen Kraftlinie
vereinigen und wie diese in den senkrecht geführten Muskellinien von
Becken, Bein und Fuß ihren gegenfixierenden Abschluß finden. (Schaeffer
11)
When taken together with the text underneath the photograph, the noble masculine gestures
and the ideals that they enunciate are undermined, inverted, and exposed as homoerotic.
Wolfgang Schuberth’s delicious parody of Fritzsche’s ideals feeds the voyeuristic drive of the
viewer and incorporates him in this eroticized Wandervogel fantasy. The uniform of the
Wandervogel—Lederhose and a loose tunic-style shirt—becomes a fetish for the viewer; a
signifier of “what lies beneath.” The Wandervogel’s tanned skin, red lips, and white teeth
indicate not only his beauty, but also his vitality and good health. The poem culminates in
the kiss—an exquisite moment of contact between viewer and object when erotic desire is
realized. This moment is mirrored in the photograph, which captures what would have been
a brief moment of contact between the two models if they were indeed “at play.”
The common thread that ties these emblems together is the ideal of friendship: a
friendship that embraces the ideal of the platonic Freundesliebe among male German
69
Fig. 15. Photographer Unknown. “Ballspiel.” Poem: Schuberth, Wolfgang. “Wandervogel.”
Die Insel 3.8 (1928): 253.
70
intellectuals in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, but one that also allows room for
erotic desire. Picture, motto, and text in the emblem “Die wahre Freundschaft” (fig. 16) create an
allegory of ideal (platonic) male-male friendship. This photograph is exemplary of the
contemporary debate regarding pedophilia’s place in the homosexual movement and the debate
among homosexuals regarding an appropriate age of consent. Many photographs from this time
portray males below eighteen years of age. The picture is of two male youths; one atop and one
in front of a stone wall. The element of stone could suggest the strength and security of the bond
that unites the two, or it could also represent the (potential) strength of their male bodies (cf. fig.
12). This is expressed vis-à-vis their body gestures and poses. The pose of the male youth atop
the wall is such so that his body enunciates a state of rest: “Der schlanke junge Mann [liegt]
entspannt und ausgeruht. Sein Körper ist wohl durchgebildet, aber nicht besonders
muskelkräftig” (Schaeffer 13). In contrast to the “softer” muscles of his peaceful friend atop the
wall, the pose of the model in front of the stone wall defines his muscles more sharply:
Man beachte zunächst die von der rechten Schulterhöhe zum Becken ziehende Linie. Es ist der breite Rückenmuskel, der sich so ruhig abhebt. Die unter
ihm liegenden Zacken sind die Ursprünge des vorderen Sägemuskels. Unter
diesen Zacken ballen sich die Muskelwülste der Bauchmuskeln. Herrlich
modelliert ist die Sehne des zweiköpfigen Oberschenkelmuskels [. . .].
(Schaeffer 12)
The interplay of the two poses creates a visual tension: the emblem translates this “visual
tension” into a “verbal tension,” which is resolved in the text. The caption or “motto”
underneath the photograph reads: “Die wahre Freundschaft.” This is also the title of the
accompanying poem by Danton Boncourt. The poem suggests that the true virtue of
friendship is the ability of friends to forgive one another. In “Hobelspäne” (fig. 13), Point 4
admonishes the reader not to listen to gossip about one’s friend that might compromise
one’s trust in his friend. “Die wahre Freundschaft” also expresses this threat to the ideal
friendship:
71
Höre niemals auf Geschwätz der Toren,
Höre niemals auf Geschrei der Narren,
Die von Treu und Eintracht schwätzen
Und sich nur an Streit und Haß ergötzen. (275)
This text articulates the photograph’s visual tension. The two friends are separated spatially
and their gaze is not fixed on one another—instead of unity, the models’ pose expresses
discord. The gaze is important in mending the rift in the friendship: 36
Fig. 16. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Poem: Boncourt, Danton. “Die wahre
Freundschaft.” Die Insel 3.9 (1928): 275.
72
Sieh’ dem reu’gen Freund tief in die Augen,
Laß ein schwaches Herz sich in dein starkes saugen,
Gib ihm Kraft aus deinen Kräften, [. . .]. (275)
Once “held” by each other’s gaze, the physical embrace serves to finally reunite the two:
Reiche ihm versöhnt die Freundeshände,
Und vereinet, versöhnet ohne Ende
Gegenseitig ziehet euch empor! (275)
The final lines of the poem are a repetition of the opening lines; a reminder that true
friendship cannot be found in an unforgiving heart.
Germanic Myth, German Male Youth, and Gemeinschaft
Beginning in the latter part of the 1920s, the modernist homosexual aesthetic not only
incorporated the gender re-polarization in society at large, but also the prevailing
nationalistic, racist, and militaristic overtones in contemporary German culture. As George
Mosse writes in The Image of Man, “[t]he masculine ideal had overcome the period of its
greatest challenge at the end of the nineteenth century, had been strengthened by the war,
and retained its dominance in the interwar years” (153). In their attempt to legitimize
homosexual photography and the journals in which it appeared, publishers of homosexual
journals not only employed an aesthetic based on Classical aesthetics and poetic form, but
also cultural myths (Judeo-Christian, Greco-Roman, Germanic). Such use of cultural myth in
homosexual photography not only reinforced a “masculine homosexual image,” but also
incorporated homosexuality into accepted cultural traditions.
Of particular interest is a photograph depicting the Germanic god Donar (fig. 17),
whose hammer is associated with virility.37 The model’s pose signifies potential energy:
Donar’s clap of thunder will accompany the lightening bolt. This potential energy can be
seen in the body’s tension and “contradictory” movements:
Fig. 17. Schneider, Ernst (Berlin). “Donar.” Die Insel 2.11 (1927): 3.
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[. . .] Die Haltung der Arme erhöht den Reiz der Stellung. (Schaeffer 12)
[. . .] Einem gespannten Bogen gleich zieht sich die Muskellinie des Körpers, vom
linken Ohr beginnend, mit dem Kopfnicker zur Brustbeinmitte, von hier mitten
durch den geraden Bauchmuskel zum Becken. Linke und rechte Körpersilhouette
wiederholen diese Bogenspannung, die [rechte] durch stärkere, aber entspannte
Beugung, die [linke] durch gestrecktes, strafferes Dehnen. (Schaeffer 13)
[. . .] Ein Bild der Gegensätze: Der rechte Arm ist in kraftvoller Spannung nach
hinten gewendet, der linke in natürlicher Entspannung vorwärts gehalten. Wuchtig
ballt sich der zweiköpfige Muskel des rechten Oberarmes, aber auch der rechte
Brustmuskel, der vordere Sägemuskel sind in die Spannung einbezogen. (Schaeffer
14)
The pose incorporates many masculine enunciations in order to capture Donar’s “potential
energy.” Via the thoroughly “masculine” pose, the model satisfies the criteria of the
modernist homosexual aesthetic. The backdrop in the photograph underscores the theatrics
of homosexual masculinity.
As in previous pictures, the masculine gestures and the masculine body enunciate the
masculine homosexual ideal fostered by Hirschfeld’s opponents. However, this photograph
exhibits the increasing importance of “Germanness” in the construction of the masculine
homosexual ideal. Adolf Brand and the authors of Der Eigene also attacked Hirschfeld
because he was Jewish.38 In doing so, Hirschfeld’s opponents not only rejected the Third Sex
Theory as a “model” for homosexuality. They created an indirect connection between
Hirschfeld’s Third Sex, the “sick homosexual,” progressive medicine, and Judaism, and
relegated them all to the category of “the Other.”
As early as 1903, the co-founders of the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen, “die eine FidusZeichnung als eine Art ‘Logo’ übernimmt: einen nackten Fidus-Knaben, der etwas schwingt,
was zwischen einer Friedenspalme und einer überdimensionalen Gänsefeder die Mitte hält“
(Keilson-Lauritz 66).39 By the mid-1920s, the iconography of the Freikörperkultur movement
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had imbedded itself in homosexual photography. Certainly, Hirschfeld supported such
Lebensreformbewegungen and was himself a Monist, but as his opponents saw it, Hirschfeld had
relegated Ideal Friendship to the medical examination room. Brand and Die Gemeinschaft der
Eigenen saw it as their duty to free the homosexual from the doctor’s gaze and to (re)unite
male friendship with natural surroundings.
Such “Fidus-imagery” became a common image that appeared not only in Der Eigene,
but also in Die Insel. In such photographs, the model assumes the pose of Fidus’s Betender
Knabe in praise of the sun (fig. 18). The model is photographed atop a ridge or mountain so
that his person looms large over the broad landscape in the background. His arms are
outstretched; he stands tall and holds his face to the sky. In contrast to the more
androgynous portrayals of the betender Knabe, the model faces the viewer, exposing his
genitals to the gaze of the viewer. The model represents the ideal German [homosexual]
male youth: a part of nature, in command of nature, healthy, strong, and masculine.
The importance of “German nature” cannot be underestimated in the construction
of the modernist homosexual aesthetic. By “German nature,” I mean both the literal and
figurative sense: “German nature” as in flora and fauna native to Germany, and “German
nature” as in a deutsche Innerlichkeit, a deutsche Seele. In German-nationalist homosexual
photographs, that which makes a male homosexual a German male homosexual is his spatial
relation to nature, and the degree to which his person exudes his deutsche Innerlichkeit.40 Such
was Adolf Brand’s aesthetic program in his special collection Deutsche Rasse, a collection of
photographs that guaranteed the viewer images of young German men in the setting of
German nature. In fig. 19, the scale is the inverse of that in fig. 18.
76
Fig. 18. Photographer Unkown. No Title. Die Insel 1.3 (1926): 9. (Also appears in Die Insel
3.11 (1928): 329.)
77
Fig. 19. Brand, Adolf. “Aus der Sammlung DEUTSCHE RASSE. Aktstudie von Adolf
Brand.” Der Eigene 10.7 (1924): 357.
78
In fig. 19, the male is dwarfed by the grandeur of the trees that surround him. Embracing the
Birch tree (commonly found in Germany from the Lüneburger Heide north to the Baltic States
and Scandinavia), the young man and his pose reflect the innocence and naiveté of the
landscape.41 The inverted scale (model < landscape) suggests a Waldeinsamkeit from German
Romanticism. Such visual statements were not only masculine, but “Germanic,” and were
expressed verbally in such conservative nationalist texts as Walter Flex’s Der Wanderer
zwischen Zwei Welten (1917). At one point in the story, the narrator and his friend Ernst
Wurche, a World War I Führer figure, rest at the edge of the a canal:
[W]ir gingen tief in die federnde Sumpfwiese hinein, warfen die staubigen
Kleider von uns und ließen uns von den kühlen, guten Wellen treiben.
Dann lagen wir lange in dem reinlichen Gras und ließen uns von
Wind und Sonne trocknen. Als letzter sprang der Wandervogel [Wurche] aus
den Wellen. Der Frühling war ganz wach und klang von Sonne und
Vogelstimmen. Der junge Mensch, der auf uns zuschritt, war von diesem
Frühling trunken. Mit rückgeneigtem Haupte ließ er die Maisonne ganz über
sich hinfluten, er hielt ihr stille und stand mit frei ausgebreiteten Armen und
geöffneten Händen da. Seine Lippen schlossen sich zu Goethes inbrünstigen
Versen auf, die ihm frei und leicht von den Lippen sprangen, als habe er die
ewigen Worte eben gefunden, die die Sonne in ihn hinein und über Herz und
Lippen aus ihm herausströmte:
“Wie im Morgenglanze
Du rings mich anglühst,
Frühling, Geliebter! [. . .]”
Feucht von den Wassern und von Sonne und Jugend über und über
glänzend stand der Zwanzigjährige in seiner schlanken Reinheit da, und die
Worte des Ganymed kamen ihm schlicht und schön und mit fast
schmerzlichen hellen Sehnsucht von den Lippen. (31-32).
Flex’s language betrays a hidden, repressed sensuality behind the guise of a platonic
friendship. The narrator and Wurche are brought together not only by military duty—the
narrator admires Wurche’s body, and indirectly likens Wurche to Fidus’s Betender Knabe. In
addition, the narrator sees in Wurche’s body the qualities of a Führer (20) coupled with
masculine beauty. Truly, these qualities are not separate, but synonymous. What is especially
79
interesting about this passage is that Flex unites the qualities of two opposing homosocial
groups—the pacifist Wandervogel and the military—in the persona of the narrator’s friend,
who was once a Wandervogel and who is now a German soldier. The reader then connects
these two groups not by their ideology, but by their homosocial character as
well as by their German character.
Homosocial Spaces, Homosexual Fetish, and Homosexual Desire: From German Wandervogel to
Soldier-Fantasies
The Wandervogel movement and its relation to the larger Lebensreformbewegungen have already
been discussed in previous sections. When discussing the “Wandervogel” poem, I suggested
that the uniform was a fetish for the viewer of what “lies beneath.” As a fetish, the uniform
of the Wandervogel and of the Freicorps signifies that which “lies beneath,” namely, a healthy,
“masculine” body that meets the aesthetic criteria of “masculine enunciation.” Therefore,
photographs of Wandervogel and Freicorps in uniform serve to fulfill the viewer’s uniform
fetish, while at the same time portraying German Wandervogel and Freicorps in a respectable
manner.
Adolf Brand’s photograph of three Wandervogel members (fig. 20) does just this. On
the one hand, the photograph captures the naiveté of the Wandervogel youth, their close
relation to the German natural environment and their friendship unify them. While these
elements are suggested through their relaxed pose, the three youths are defined by their
uniforms. In this photograph, the Wandervogel uniforms signify the individual elements in the
photograph: German male youth, German male beauty, German nature, the German ideal of
Freundesliebe in a Männerbund. In Der Eigene, this photograph stands alone: there is neither
caption nor text. The same photograph appears in Die Insel, but is framed by WandervogelGeschichten (fig. 21).
80
Fig. 20. Brand, Adolf. No Title. Der Eigene 10.4 (1920): 155.
L. Omen’s short story “Am Lagerfeuer” expresses in word the connoted message in
Brand’s Wandervogel picture, namely homoeroticism within the Wandervogel. Omen offers the
reader a textual translation of the visual image of German male youth and beauty:
Seine schönen, edlen Züge wurden hell beleuchtet von dem flackerndem
Scheine des Feuers. Das rötliche Licht, das seine kraftvolle Gestalt
überflutete, stand in wirkungsvollem Gegensatz zu der dunklen Farbe seiner
Augen und seines Haares, das ihm in leichter Locke bis über die Stirne fiel.
(105)
Fig. 21. “Wandervogel-Geschichten.” Die Freundschaft 6.5 (1924): 105.
81
82
In addition, the text reinforces the connoted message that German nature and Männerbunde
provide the ideal realm for male homosexual desire:
Und wir standen auf, gingen hinaus . . . hinaus in die sternenklare
Mondscheinnacht . . [sic] bis wir das Dorf weit hinter uns hatten und nur
endlose, stille Heide uns umgab. [. . .] “Glaube mir, Wolf, ich liebe Dich,
liebe Dich in aufrichtigster, treuester, reinster Liebe und Freundschaft. . . ”
Ich schwieg. Sekundenlang trafen seine schwarzen Augen meinen Blick . . .
fest umfingen ihn meine Arme . . . . (105)
In this passage, the ellipses serve as Leerstellen, if not as fetishes, for the reader. These
ellipses not only indicate the possibility of, but also mirror the reader’s voyeuristic desire for
sexual contact between the youths.
In addition to photographs from the Wandervogel, photographs of soldier figures
played an important role not only in the re-gendering of the homosexual male towards a
more masculine image, but also in securing his place more firmly within the scope of “things
German.”42 In this chapter, three variations of gender performance vis-à-vis the soldier
figure will be analyzed in order of each photograph’s publication date: (1) the soldier as ideal
German male beauty, (2) the soldier as Stahlfigur, and (3) the soldier as gender parody.
The majority of the photographs in Adolf Brand’s photographic collection
“DEUTSCHE RASSE” were of naked youths in natural settings. In such photographs, the
“German body,” “German nature,” and “male-male desire” become equal, interchangeable
signifiers of the modernist homosexual aesthetic. An especially interesting photograph from
this collection portrays a young German male wearing a Stahlhelm (fig. 22). As mentioned in
the previous chapter, Barthes has explained that “the interest [with objects] lies in the fact
that the objects are accepted inducers of associations of ideas (bookcase = intellectual)”
(201-02). While the flower held by an effeminate male further connotes the message of
“effeminate male,” the Stahlhelm worn by a masculine male connotes a vast number of
associations, least of which are a steel-will (rationality), steel-body (impenetrable body), and
83
Fig. 22. Brand, Adolf. “Aus der Sammlung DEUTSCHE RASSE. Kopfstudie von Adolf
Brand.” Der Eigene 10.3 (1924): 131.
84
uniformity (soldier as projection of national ideals; soldier as “one” among “many”). These
associations are “desirable” characteristics of the “masculine male” in modernism, and thus
the Stahlhelm connotes not only the masculinity, but also the model’s “Germanness.”
This figure could be the visual representation of Walter Flex’s hero-figure Wurche,
who was at once Wandervogel and soldier; Biblical prophet and Übermensch. The juxtaposition
of the model’s dreamy gaze and his casual pose with the Stahlhelm expresses these paradoxes
in a visual manner. The homosexual fetish of the uniform and homosexual soldier fantasies
reached an apex in the late twenties. The cover page of the eleventh issue of the eleventh
volume of Der Eigene (1927) indicates this (fig. 23). Where photographs of unclad male
youths once adorned the cover of Der Eigene, the photograph of the German soldier has now
triumphed. The boundary between model and Stahlhelm has “dissolved”—the Stahlhelm is part
of the model; the two become a singular visual expression. The subject’s penetrating gaze expresses his
“iron will”; this gaze examines the viewer and reverses the role of subject / object. The
cover page could also be compared to an emblem, in the sense that the visual message of the
soldier has redefined the textual message of Der Eigene: “Ein Blatt für männliche Kultur.”
First, (homosexual) masculine fantasy has incorporated Germany’s militaristic
fantasy; second, the German, militaristic, “steeled” construction of the modernist
homosexual aesthetic has completely eliminated any traces of “effeminacy” or of
“indeterminate gender.” However, such “hyper-masculine” photographs at the end of the
1920s did not completely bring an end to the portrayal of the Third Sex. In a photograph
that can either be considered to be a parody of the “hyper-masculine” soldier or a portrayal
of the “effeminate” homosexual, the Puppenjunge-type is portrayed with make-up and a
Stahlhelm (fig. 24).43
85
Fig. 23. Photographer Unknown. No Title. Der Eigene: Ein Blatt für männliche Kultur 11.11
(1927). Cover.
86
The figure is a visual “contradiction in terms”: taken together, the model’s make-up,
coquettish glance, and androgynous body and pose negate all “masculine” connotations that
one would usually associate with the Stahlhelm.
87
Grief and Defeat: Pietà-Motif, Der gefesselte Homosexuelle
In the latter part of the 1920s (most specifically in 1929, see ch. 3), the German nation began
to reflect on the First World War. It mourned not only those soldiers who had died, but also
the fact that these soldiers—despite claims by those such as Jünger—had basically died in
vain. The War only contributed to the crisis of masculinity in modernity: not only was the
“virility” of the masculine model—the German soldier—“shot down” in his defeat on the
battlefield, but his defeat was responsible for Germany’s “emasculation” in the Treaty of
Versailles. It was not only through the figure of the soldier—but also though the mourning
of his and Germany’s defeat—that the homosexual integrated himself into a predominately
heterosexual discourse.
Much like the in traditional Pietà, in fig. 25, the (homosexual) male body is an
allegory of this grief and defeat. A young man is grief-stricken at the sight of his dead friend.
There are two landscapes in this image. The first is the wide expanse behind the two figures,
reinforcing the great magnitude of the event. The second is comprised of the two young
male bodies. Like a sacrifice on an altar, the body of dead youth lies atop a jagged rock. The
pose of his friend mirrors “upward” the limp limbs of his dead friend.44 The viewer shares
the same subject position as the mourning friend: the friend (and the Nation) is projected
onto the body of the fallen youth. It is important that the “sacrifice” is a beautiful young
male: the Nation’s potential has been squandered senselessly, and the “Nation” looks on in
The viewer’s gaze is drawn to the center of the image: the (covered) genitalia of the dead
youth; the shrouded, dead “member”; the “death” of masculinity. From the genitalia, the
viewer’s gaze follows the contours of the friend’s upper body, joining the friend’s gaze at the
apex of this bodily landscape.
88
A triangular visual construct has been achieved; the bottom corners of which are the dead
friend’s genitalia and the dead friend’s face, which is directed away from his own genitalia
and from his friend. What is more, these two “corners” are interchangeable: what the friend
(and the viewer) mourns is the passing of the friend’s camaraderie, virility, and masculinity.
These virtues are represented by the young and healthy male body; the signifier of which are
the male genitalia.
While a homoerotic theme is fairly obvious in images such as fig. 25, images such as
fig. 26 not only allegorize grief and defeat, but they also eroticize such themes by placing
them within the context of sadomasochism. The image in fig. 26 was a common enunciation
of the late 1920s iconographic language: it appeared at least three times between 1927-30 in
Friedrich Radszuweit’s Die Insel. Once again, it is the (homosexual) male body that is the site
89
of grief and defeat. At first glance, the image imparts grace. The model is, as Matthias
suggests, “[. . .] völlig entspannt. Bildnerisch schön wirkt die linke Rückenhälfte durch den
langen Rückenmuskel und die Schultermuskeln” (Schaeffer 14). While this is true, the
model’s bound foot “induces associations of ideas” (Barthes 201-02) such as “defeat,”
“prisoner,” even “criminal.” In a contemporary heterosexual cultural context, the male
viewer might be able to relate himself to the model as a “fallen” soldier and to the image
itself, which imparts the German shame from its defeat in the First World War. For the male
homosexual viewer, not only might he be able to relate to the grief, defeat, and shame
expressed by the model’s pose in a larger cultural context, but also in the context of the
homosexual as outsider: as someone “bound” both by his orientation and by the law.
Fig. 26. Lutz. “Der Gefangene.” Die Insel. 2.7 (1927): 13. Also appeared in Die Insel 4.2
(1929): 5; Die Insel 5.6 (1930): 21.
90
Conclusion
Just as there was no single homosexual emancipation movement in the first third of the
twentieth century in Germany, one single “image” of the homosexual did not exist. Indeed,
differing aesthetics were largely responsible for the development of the individual
homosexual emancipation movements. The visual portrayal of Hirschfeld’s “Third Sex”
largely resembled the nineteenth century aesthetic ideal of the androgynous ephebe.
Opponents of the medical model of homosexuality (namely Adolf Brand and the Gemeinschaft
der Eigenen) initially accepted the androgynous ephebe as an aesthetic ideal. However, these
opponents were concerned with the crisis of masculinity not just within homosexual circles,
but also within German culture at large. While Hirschfeld sought inclusion of persons of
ambiguous sex, gender, and sexual orientation, Brand saw such persons as further threats to
the integrity of the masculine ideal.
The general rejection of the aesthetics of Hirschfeld’s Third Sex manifested itself
gradually before, during, and after the First World War. This “rejection” can be traced in
visual representations in homosexual journals such as Brand’s Der Eigene, but also in
Radszuweit’s Die Insel, as well as Die Freundschaft. Images of young boys, often with
“associative objects” such as flowers or ribbons in their hair that had circulated among
homosexuals immediately before and after 1900 would gradually be replaced by images of
young men. The bodies became increasingly steeled; the models and the backgrounds
increasingly “German.” An insistence on “masculine” images was coupled with a
nationalistic impulse, as if to prove that homosexuals were not dangerous social outsiders,
but healthy, masculine, German men. Only as such could homosexuals hope to find inclusion
within society as “useful” citizens. For Brand and his followers, Hirschfeld’s Berlins Drittes
91
Geschlecht was nothing more than proof to the heterosexual populace that homosexuals were
effeminate objects of pity.
As evidenced by the artist Fidus’s involvement in the Gemeinschaft der Eigene, the
Lebensreformbewegungen of the turn of the century and the nudist movement in Germany (that
continued well beyond the 1930s) largely influenced the visual construction and
understanding of “[homosexual] masculine beauty.” In contrast to Hirschfeld’s homosexual
photography in his Geschlechts-Übergänge, the homosexual object of photography was removed
from the doctor’s examination room and placed in natural settings. The new subject position
of the homosexual—or in Brand’s terminology, the “male friend”—not only detracted from
the conception of homosexuality as illness, but also emphasized the argument that
homosexuality is a natural occurrence. The dissemination of such “positive” imagery in
homosexual journals contributed to the self-determination of the homosexual. Photographs
in male homosexual journals use poses and gestures that were generally accepted as
“masculine” and “aesthetically pleasing.” Publications such as Der männliche Körper catalogue
culturally accepted (i.e., accepted in both heterosexual and homosexual cultures) enunciations
of masculinity that would be referred to and employed time and again in a cultural
iconographic language.
In the Weimar Republic, both hetero- and homosexual photography was subject to
censorship under § 184 and § 184a. Therefore, it was not only important to legitimize
homosexuality within the general public, but also in the eyes of the law. Male homosexual
journals incorporated artistic traditions such as Emblematik not only to legitimize their
publication as art, but also to aesthetically express the ideals of the homosexual movement.
In the wake of the First World War, homosexuals incorporated imagery of grief and defeat
in their photography to create imagery that would further include them within a general—
92
and respectable—aesthetic. For these reasons, Hirschfeld’s Third Sex model faced many
challenges not only from respectable heterosexual society, but also from homosexual
aesthetic circles as well.
93
Notes to Chapter 2
1
See HERZER, Magnus 140.
For Hirschfeld, the homosexual was not “sick,” but not “healthy” either. HERRN
explains: “Bei der Wandlung von der ‘Psychopathia sexualis’ zur Sexualwissenschaft um die
Jahrhundertwende lockerten sich auch die pathologisierenden Dogmen. Einige
Sexualwissenschaftler und Psychiater, wie Havelock Ellis und Paul Näcke begannen,
zunächst zaghaft, die Bewertung der Homosexualität als Krankheit zu hinterfragen. Jedoch
war Hirschfeld der erste, der mit seinem Kollegen Ernst Burchard 1903 den Zusammenhang
von Homosexualität mit Krankhaftigkeit und Degeneriertheit empirisch untersuchte.
Hirschfeld stellte fest: ‘Die Homosexualität ist weder Krankheit noch Entartung, noch
Laster noch Verbrechen, sondern stellt ein Stück der Naturordnung dar.’ Dennoch war die
Lösung von den alten Zuschreibungen unvollständig. Hirschfeld beschrieb mit den
Theoremen der zeitgenössischen Psychiatrie, die wesentlich von der Degenerationstheorie
bestimmt waren, Homosexualität als einen von der Natur eingerichteten Schutz der
Menschheit vor Degeneration, weil sich Homosexuelle nicht fortpflanzten. Geschickt leitete
er daraus sein Plädoyer gegen die Heirat Homosexueller ab, die andere Psychiater, wie
Schrenk-Notzing, als therapeutisches Mittel zur Heterosexualisierung der Homosexuellen
empfohlen hatten. Und obwohl Hirschfeld die Krankheitsthese der Homosexualität
bekämpfte, konnte er sich nicht entschließen, sie als Gesundheit hinzustellen. Sie blieb in
seinen Beschreibungen keine ‘Krankheit im gewöhnlichen Sinne’, eine evolutionäre
‘angeborene Mißbildung’, die er zuerst mit der Hasenscharte (Sappho und Sokrates, 1897)
später mit der Farbenblindheit (Die Homosexualität des Mannes und Weibes, 1914) verglich”
(“Sexualität” 322-23).
3
Der Eigene, the journal of the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen, was the oldest homosexual
journal and was published sporadically by Adolf Brand between 1896-1933. As for Die
Freundschaft and Die Insel, BAUMGARDT explains that “[e]rst die Weimarer Republik mit ihrer
demokratischen Verfassung und einem liberaleren Klima ermöglichte es den
Homosexuellen, sich in einer Massenorganisation zusammenzuschließen. Eine Vielfalt
homosexueller Zeitschriften entstand in diesem liberalen Klima. Die wichtigsten waren: Die
Freundschaft, die zwischen 1923 und 1926 als Informationsblatt des WhK [Wissenschaftlichhumanitäre Komitee] herauskam und 1919 von Karl Schultz als Wochenblatt für Aufklärung
und geistige Hebung der idealen Freundschaft gegründet worden war. Die Blätter für Menschenrecht,
Das Freundschaftsblatt, Die Freundin und das Unterhaltungsmagazin Die Insel erschienen im
Friedrich-Radszuweit-Verlag in Potsdam” (38). From 1923-25 (vol. 1-3), Die Insel was
published by Friedrich Radszuweit as Die Insel: Wochenschrift für Aufklärung und Unterhaltung.
From 1926-33 (vol. 1-8), it appeared as Die Insel: Das Magazin der Ehelosen und Einsamen,
published by Friedrich Radszuweit and his partner, Martin-Butzko-Radszuweit. Production
ceased in March of 1933.
4
Due to time restrictions, the study is limited to male homosexual journals. Lesbian
journals of the time such as Die Freundin and Garçonne certainly deserve further research along
these lines. For information on these publications, see VOGEL and SCHLIERKAMP.
5
As examples of this androgynous ideal, DIJKSTRA cites “Paul Peel (1861-1892), ‘A
Venetian Bather’ (1889)” (201), “Herbert Draper (1864-1920), ‘The Youth of Ulysses’
(1895)” (201), and the German “Heinrich Friedrich Heine (b. 1869), ‘Spring’ (ca. 1899)”
(202).
2
6
94
Again, one must be careful when evaluating Hirschfeld’s evaluation of gender
performance. HERRN explains that in Hirschfeld’s Sexualpathologie, the “[. . .] i-Typ der
metotropen Frau wird ‘die neue Frau’ kategorisiert und pathologisiert” (“Personal”).
7
“Brand macht [. . .] Hirschfelds Erfolgsbuch Berlins drittes Geschlecht (1904) für das
schiefe Bild verantwortlich, daß [sic] in der Öffentlichkeit vom Homosexuellen entstanden
sei. Er wirft Hirschfeld die ‘behaglich breite Schilderung des ödesten Kneipen- und
Kaschemmenlebens’ vor und sieht darin eine ‘Karikatur der Freundesliebe’ und eine ‘ebenso
unwissenschaftliche wie sensationslüsterne Propaganda’” (KEILSON-LAURITZ 101).
According to Brand, Hirschfeld “[. . .] schilt sie [sic] ‘Tanten, Tölen und politische Trottel’,
‘nur darauf aus, ihre sexuelle Habgier zu befriedigen, wie eine Hure jeden Tag bei einem
Andern im Bett zu liegen, um Dritten gegenüber damit renommieren zu können’. Für sie
führe man ‘verständigerweise […] keinen Kulturkampf’” (KEILSON-LAURITZ 212-13).
8
Original quote in KUPFFER.
9
As KEILSON-LAURITZ explains, in the texts (and as I will discuss, in the
photography) that one finds in Der Eigene, there is a coupling of masculine stereotypes and
aesthetically positive connotations: “Da ist viel von ‘Beherrschung’, ‘Meisterschaft’ (vor
allem der Form), ‘Ernst’, ‘Prägnanz’, ‘Gestaltung’, die Rede. Im Eigenen der zwanziger Jahre
steigert sich das in der Rede von ‘Spannung’, ‘Kraft’ und ‘zwingendem’ Ausdruck zu
‘zeitgemäßer’ ‘neuer Sachlichkeit’ einerseits und ‘herber Reinheit’ und ‘neuem Glauben’
andererseits. Bei Waldecke [one of Der Eigene’s most prominent writers and outspoken critic
of Hirschfeld] findet sich eine Vorliebe für das ‘Erhabene’ und für ‘seelische Wucht’ und
eine Absage an Verschleierungen und Weinerlichkeit” (257).
10
Der Eigene portrayed “aesthetically pleasing” men from South America (e.g. Rio de
Janeiro) and from Persia, but Jews would not find a home here. Here, HERRN urges caution:
“Der Jude war keine differente Kategorie, sondern jene, die als Jude fremd gelabelt werden,
definierten sich als Deutsche” (Personal). However, the following excerpt from MOSSE
supports my statement: “The use of racism to gain respectability was a constant theme of the
first homosexual journal in Germany, Der Eigene (The Personalist), published by Adolf Brand
between 1896 and 1931. Boasting only a few thousand readers up to the First World War, its
monthly circulation soared to about 150,000 during the Weimar Republic. Even before the
paper published a supplement called Rasse und Schönheit (Race and Beauty) in 1926, Germanic
themes had informed much of its fiction, as well as images of naked boys and young men
photographed against a background of Germanic nature. One poem, written by Brand
himself and entitled ‘The Superman,’ praised manliness, condemned femininity, and toyed
with anti-Semitism, apparently because of the poet’s quarrel with Magnus Hirschfeld, a rival
for leadership of the homosexual rights movement” (Nationalism 42).
11
Der Eigene was censored many times, and after being censored in 1903, the
readership of Der Eigene became a closed society in order to avoid further censure (KEILSONLAURITZ 95). Brand was jailed in Berlin-Tegel for two months in 1905 (99) and for almost
eight months in 1907-08 (108). When he was yet again attacked by the censors, Brand began
collecting testimonies from his readers, who confirmed the artistic quality and inoffensive nature of
his photographs (116).
12
Among other terminology used to describe its cause including “Freundesliebe,”
“Homoerotik,” “Paidophilia,” and “pädagogischer Eros,” the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen also
described their cause as the love “die der große Haufe noch nicht versteht” (as cited in
KEILSON-LAURITZ 237).
13
95
Under causes of the crisis of masculinity in the late nineteenth century to 1900,
MOSSE includes “[. . .] labor unrest, the rise of the socialist movement, prolonged economic
crises, and new technologies that once more seemed to speed up time itself [. . .]. Other
factors must be taken into consideration as well: the fear of depopulation, strong in most
western and central European nations, and especially in France following the defeat by
Germany in 1871” (Image 79).
14 See THEWELEIT 2, “Sumpf,” 497-501.
15
“Art vs. obscenity made for great live drama in Cincinnati 10 years ago, when
Dennis Barrie and the Contemporary Arts Center were indicted for pandering obscenity
hours after the opening of the photography exhibit, Robert Mapplethorpe: The Perfect Moment.
“[. . .] Jonathan Katz is a man who knows what it’s like to be at ground zero. He was a
graduate student at Kent State University 30 years ago when shots fired on campus anti-war
protesters were heard around the world. Now executive director of the National Assembly
of State Arts Agencies in Washington, D.C., Mr. Katz likens the Mapplethorpe obscenity
trial to Kent State in terms of its being ‘a catalytic incident’” (“MAPPLETHORPE”).
16
For more information about the FKK in Germany from the turn of the century to
the present, see BERGEMANN. See also BUCHHOLZ, LATOCHA, PECKMANN, WOLBERT, AND
STERNWEILER.
17
I have employed BOEHM’s thesis as a basis of explanation for a “photographic
language.”
18
Of interest is the parallel construction of the homosexual and of the Jew as the
“effeminate man.” MOSSE writes: “Jews were also, if to a lesser degree, associated with
homosexuals and eventually as perpetual wanderers with the Gypsies as well. The
physiognomy of the Jew was, in turn, closely related to that of the physiognomy of the
insane and habitual criminals [. . .]. The outsider in general was locked into place by the
ideals of beauty and manliness, and the choice of how he could be represented was therefore
limited, as any comparison of modern illustrations, especially caricature, shows” (Image 66).
19
Refers to testimony given by Max Dessoir and Georg Groddeck in 1905 in defense
of Adolf Brand, Edwin Bab, and Der Eigene. See KEILSON-LAURITZ 99.
20 For more information on Wulffen, see LEISTNER.
21
For a discussion of these laws within a broader social context, see DOBLER.
22
“Im allgemeinen versteht man unter ‘galant sein’ die feine Lebensart der
Franzosen, ihr savoir vivre, das decorum der Lateiner. Je größeres Verbreitung aber die
galante Poesie erfuhr, um so mehr wandelt sich die Bedeutung des Wortes, und man
verstand schließlich darunter Berichte von Liebesaffären bekannter Persönlichkeiten,
unsaubere Liebesgeschichten, kurzum die erotische Literatur im allgemeinen” (ENGLISCH 4).
A search for background information on Englisch yielded no results; however, it
seems that Englisch was a respected German literary critic of the 1920s who concerned
himself with Sittengeschichten. For example, Englisch worked with other specialists, including
Wulffen, on the 4-volume 1931 Bilder-Lexikon: Kulturgeschichte. Literatur und Kunst.
Sexualwissenschaft. Ergänzungsband.
23
Based on contemporary critical accounts of said journals, it seems to be the case
that regardless of theme or form the homosexual aesthetic was largely considered “smut.”
Critic ENGLISCH classifies these journals as “[. . .] Skandalblätter, die das Feld der niederen
Erotik beackern. Ich nenne hier nur die ‘Neuesten Nachrichten’, “Der freie Mensch’ (jetzt
eingegangen), ‘Der Pranger’ (eingegangen), die ‘Freie Presse’, ‘Die Freundschaft,
Wochenschrift für Aufklärung und geistige Hebung der Freundschaft’ (homosexuell), ‘Neue
96
Pikanterien’ (erloschen), [. . .] ‘Der Galgen’ (eingegangen) Die meisten dieser Blättchen
lassen dem Schmutz liebevolle Pflege angedeihen. [. . .] Mit der zunehmende Konsolidierung
Deutschlands schritt aber der Staatsanwalt ganz energisch gegen die Auswüchse ein, und den
Winkelblättchen wurde ihr unsauberes Handwerk dermaßen erschwert, daß sie es entweder
vorzogen, ihr Erscheinen einzustellen oder ihren redaktionellen und Inseratenteil so
gründlich zu sichten, daß das Interesse für sie bei der speziell dafür eingestellten Leserschar
zu versiegen beginnt” (275-76).
24
HIRSCHFELD continues: “Die Art wie die Homosexuellen ihre Umgebung
gestalten, hat für die Besonderheit ihrer sexuellen Eigenart und Geschmacksrichtung oft
etwas ungemein Charakteristisches [!].
Abgesehen davon, daß Zimmereinrichtung und Wandschmuck besonders bei
femininen Urningen oft das Zarte, Weichliche, bisweilen auch das Exzentrische ihrer
Persönlichkeit verraten, sind es die gleichen, sich häufig wiederholenden Kunstwerke, denen
wir in den Wohnungen von Homosexuellen vielfach begegnen. Zu solchen bevorzugsten
Kunstwerken gehören von Bildern unter anderen: der heilige Sebastian in den verschiedensten Darstellungen der italienischen Blütezeit, der ‘blue boy’ von G a i n s b o r o u g h, v a n
D y k s Knabengestalten, der Karton ‘Badende Soldaten’ von M i c h e l a n g e l o, Tiroler
Burschen von D e f r e g g e r, und die zur Schwemme reitenden Offiziere eines
schwedischen Malers; von Skulpturen: d e r D o r n z i e h e r, der Adorant, der Hermes
des P r a x i t e l e s, M i c h e l a n g e l o s Jünglings- und Männergestalten, wie seine
‘Sklaven’, der Speerwerfer des P o l y k l e t, von neueren M e u n i e r und R o d i n s
Arbeitertypen und manche andere. Es ist natürlich nicht zulässig, aus vereinzelten
Kunstwerken dieser Art Schlüsse ziehen zu wollen; nur wenn sich zahlreiche Darstellungen
ähnlichen Genres häufen, wenn man nach der intimen Art der Placierung rein dekorative
Absichten oder den bloßen Zweck des Sammelns von Kunstgegenständen möglichst
ausschließen kann, gewinnt i m Z u s a m m e n h a n g m i t a n d e r e n M o m e n t e n
diese Erscheinung eine diagnostische Bedeutung” (Homosexualität 66).
25
I would like to thank Dr. Bettina MATHES for offering this observation.
26
Discussing Köhler’s Zarathustra’s Secret: The Interior Life of Friedrich Nietzsche (1989)
and Safranski’s Nietzsche: A Philosophical Biography (2002), ROTHSTEIN addresses the topic
Nietzsche’s rumored homosexuality: “Nietzsche’s homosexuality is never really more than a
hypothesis, [. . .] [b]ut [. . .] it is consistent with Nietzsche’s philosophical mythology, which
is in part the tale of a Paradise lost that must be regained. Nietzsche’s Eden is the world of
the ancient Greeks in which Dionysian passion was as highly valued as Apollonian
detachment.” He also cites Nietzsche, who writes that “‘[t]he degree and kind of a man’s
sexuality reach up into the ultimate pinnacle of his spirit.’” It is striking that Nietzsche’s
rumored homosexuality is based not only on his “feminine nature,” but on the central role
of ancient Greek mythology in his works.
27
As far as bisexuality is concerned, the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen understood it to be
the norm, and that male-male eros was a natural expression of male sexuality. As KEILSONLAURITZ explains, “Versucht man die Positionen vom Homosexualitätskonzept her zu
beschreiben, so läßt sich verallgemeinernd sagen, daß das Jahrbuch von einer angeborenen
homosexuellem Konstitution einer Minderheit ausgeht, während Der Eigene das Recht auf
Selbstbestimmung eines jeden – bisexuell gedachten – Individuums und damit das Recht auf
eine auch sinnlich-körperliche Beziehung eines Mannes zum Mann bzw. zum Jüngling
betont” (142).
28
97
SCHAEFFER was apparently a respected art historian, who by 1931 already had a
long career behind him. In his 1926 Handbuch, MOLL cites SCHAEFFER’s Die Frau in der
venezianischen Malerei (1899). Schaeffer was not a homosexual and should not be incorporated
in homosexual aesthetic discourse (HERRN “Personal”). It is for this reason that I utilize
Schaeffer in this study: to illustrate how “mainstream,” “respectable” iconography of the
male nude was incorporated into the modernist homosexual aesthetic.
29
In early modernism (Jugendstil), the “ornamental” represented an “Entqualifizierung,”
a “Verflachung” of the third and fourth dimensions into one simultaneous occurrence,
springing outside the boundaries of the traditional Bildraumes of time and space. The
ornamental represents a crisis in modernism in that its indefinite repetition (Wiederholungsgeste)
deteriorates boundaries (Wegfall des Rahmens) (OEHLSCHLÄGER). In terms of gender in
modernism, I would interpret the “ornamental” as “the female,” or that which is fluid, that
without boundaries, that which threatens to “seep into” the “pure, male” sphere (where a
compromise of visual Rahmen could be interpreted as an infiltration of the male Körperpanzer).
30
Experts such as Hirschfeld and Krafft-Ebing received reports from male
homosexuals of such visual “omissions” and the sexual frustration they experienced because
of such omissions. In his Psychopathia Sexualis, Krafft-Ebing includes one such report: “‘Nur
selten hatte ich Gelegenheit zur Befriedigung meine sexuellen Neigungen. Dafür schwelgte
ich im Anblick von Bildern und Statuen männlicher Körper und konnte mich nicht
enthalten, geliebte Statuen abzuküssen. Ein Hauptärgernis waren mir die Feigenblätter auf
deren Genitalien’” (KRAFFT-EBING: Psychopathia Sexualis. Stuttgart, 1891: 147; cited in
STERNWEILER 75).
31
The emblem that I have discussed is from ALCIATUS. For more information on
Emblematik, see HENKEL.
32
In the case of Der Eigene, KEILSON-LAURITZ reports that “In der
Zusammenstellung der Jahrgänge schlägt sich das im Anteil primär literarischer Texte nieder:
zwischen 25 % und 50 % der Beiträge sind Gedichte. Abgesehen von Anleihen aus dem
Kanon (von Anakreon bis Whitman, darunter das provozierende Schiller-Gedicht, Emanuel
Geibel, Hölderlin, Michelangelo, Mörike, Baudelaire, Swinburne, Verlaine), die knapp 10 %
des Poesie-Anteils ausmachen, handelt es sich zum größten Teil um zeitgenössische
Versuche, der eigenen Neigung poetisch Ausdruck zu verleihen” (159). In addition,
KEILSON-LAURITZ offers a different analysis of the importance of poetic form in
homosexual journals: “[G]edichtet wird größtenteils nicht um der literarischen Form willen,
sondern mit Hilfe der literarischen Form. Die Tendenz zu Gelegenheitsgedicht und
Gebrauchslyrik spiegelt sich in der Vielzahl der bestimmten Personen, oft jüngeren
Freunden, zugeeigneten Gedichte” (160).
33
Pathos and Sehnsucht remain important literary motifs/signifiers of the “homosexual
condition” in post-§ 175 Germany. Although today’s male homosexual in Germany might be
sexually emancipated, in gay literature he is still gripped with fear at the thought of not
having a companion—either to provide him security (see SOLLORZ) and/or to stand by him
if he is living with AIDS (see WIRZ).
34
“Eine Geste des Verbeugens, evtl. des Schmerzes. ‘Der Schmerzensmann’ ist
Jesus” (HERRN “Personal”).
35
For an analysis of the Wandervogel as a product of the Lebensreformbewegung, see
PRETZEL. For information on Blüher and his concept of the “schwuler Wandervogel,” see:
HERZER, “Ithypallische Kulte [. . .].”
36
98
The meeting of the eyes is not only a cultural cliché—but also a contemporary
homosexual cliché—for the union of two people’s minds and souls. This is evidenced in
MACKAY’s “Morgen” (set to music by STRAUSS): “Stumm werden wir uns in die Augen
schauen, / Und auf uns sinkt des Glückes stummes Schweigen.”
37
“Der Schlag seines Hammers erweckte die Fruchtbarkeit der Geschöpfe u. der
Erde” (“DONAR”). Further examples of Judeo-Christian and Greco-Roman myth in
homosexual photography include “Kain und Abel” (Schneider, Ernst (Berlin). Die Insel 2.10
(1927): 13) and “Der gefesselte Prometheus” (Schneider, Ernst (Berlin). Die Insel 2.10 (1927):
9). A complete discussion of these photographs in the context of cultural myth and
homosexual photography will be undertaken in a later project.
38
In contrast to Freud, Hirschfeld maintained that the fact that he was a Jew made
no bearing on his research and Third Sex theory. Nonetheless, today’s researchers correlate
the fears in 1920s Germany of the erosion of gender poles and of the erosion of the
“difference” between “German” and “Jew”: “Die Angst vor der Verwischung der Grenzen
zwischen Mann und Frau stehe in diese rassistisch-sexualwissentschaftlichen Exkurs [von
Otto Hausser, Anfang 30er Jahre] für die ‘Angst vor der Verwischung der Grenzen zwischen
Juden und Deutschen’, erklärte die an der Humboldt-Universität lehrende
Kulturwissenschaftlerin Christina von Braun in einem Vortrag an der HU über die Frage: ‘Ist
die Sexualwissenschaft eine ‘jüdische Wissenschaft’?’” (HEITHOFF 28).
39
“Die dritte Säule der spezifischen Lebensreform war die Nacktkultur, die Bewegung
der Nudisten, die von Johannes Guttzeit, Heinrich Pudor, den Malern Karl Wilhelm
Diefenbach und Hugo Höppener, genannt Fidus [emphasis mine], und anderen in den 1890er
Jahren ins Leben gerufen wurde. Sie vereinigte gesundheitliche Anliegen mit
gesellschaftlichen Zielen. Von vegetarischen und naturheilkundlichen Lebensweisen
ausgehend, propagierte sie Konzeption der Körperkultur und der Gymnastik in freier Natur
sowie des Licht-Luftbades, die eine Veredelung von Leib und Seele hin zu einem
‘Vollmenschentum’ bewirken sollten. Andererseits ging es der Nacktkulturbewegung um
eine Befreiung der Zivilisationsmenschen aus den Fesseln einer prüden und scheinheiligen
Sexualmoral, die in der Nacktheit nicht den Ausdruck des Natürlichem, sondern des
Sündhaften sehen wollte. Die Nudisten waren dagegen davon überzeugt, daß die
Nacktkultur den Geschlechtstrieb in seine natürlichen Schranken weise, daß sie die sexuelle
Überreizung verhindere und dem Menschen zu einem von der Natur geregelten
Sexualempfinden verhelfe.” (KRABBE 28).
40
See MEYER.
41
I would like to thank HERRN for offering this observation.
42
JÜNGER combines German nationalism, the figure of the German soldier, and war
as a male rite of passage: “Um so glänzender hebt sich aus diesem Hintergrunde der wahre
Mann, der unscheinbare, echte, vom Geist getriebene Krieger, der seine Pflicht tat, am
letzten Tag wie am ersten. [. . .] Der Krieg ist der Vater aller Dinge. Kameraden, euer Wert
ist unvergänglich [. . .]” (viii).
43
In another photograph that appears in the same issue of Die Insel, the same model
is photographed “[. . .] with a steel helmet and resting sabre—like a WW I memorial. Die
Insel, 1929” (HERRN, 100 Jahre; see also cover of same). The figure of the “Pup(p)enjunge” is
examined in ch. 4. See ch. 4, endnote 37.
44
MATTHIAS provides a purely aesthetic “reading” of this pose: “Ein entspannter
Körper. Die Muskeln sind ohne jede innere Aktion. Prachtvoll der Gleichzug der Linien, der
durch die beiden Silhouetten und die Körpermittellinie entsteht” (SCHAEFFER 13).
99
Chapter 3
On War and Self-Determination:
Sexing and Gendering the German Soldier on the Home and War Fronts
“Die Gründe, welche den Soldaten zum Verkehr mit Homosexuellen veranlassen...”:
The Figure of the Soldier in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht (1904)
As photographs from Der Eigene and Die Insel indicate, the figure of the soldier had become
that unquestioned role model for German men at a time of body and identity crisis. In light
of new theoretical developments in sexology, the soldier was a buoy in which the flood of
alternative gender performances threatened to erase the clear boundary between “man” and
“woman.” It was therefore crucial to preserve the soldier’s “pure” masculinity: not only was
the soldier to serve as the masculine signifier, but he was also to remain the signifier of a
“healthy” and strong German nation. There followed a tug-of-war between the soldier’s
masculine gender and his male sex: the soldier was to signify masculinity, but at the same
time, he was to subjugate his sex drive in service to the Nation. If this were the case, then
the “healthy,” masculine soldier was an empty signifier: he signified not a virile male sex, but
rather the subjugation of the same. However, the soldier had to somehow satisfy his male sex
drive. In a homosocial atmosphere like the military, it remained a matter of the utmost
priority to safeguard the soldier from degenerate influences, namely homosexuality.
The matter of homosexuality and the military would become a thorny one in
Germany with the Eulenberg Affair from 1907-09.1 However, the topic had already been
under discussion when Hirschfeld made it a theme in his Großstadtdokument, Berlins Drittes
Geschlecht (1904). Meant to be an enlightening study for the bourgeoisie on the homosexual
“outsiders” of Berlin, Berlins Drittes Geschlecht offers the reader a literary tour of homosexual
Berlin. Among bars, private homes, and decadent balls, Hirschfeld includes a lengthy
discussion about affairs between soldiers and (effeminate) homosexuals in Berlin.2 By
100
bringing up this issue, Hirschfeld acknowledges the crisis surrounding the soldier figure as a
construct of masculinity. However, just as Hirschfeld puts the figure of the soldier in
question, he simultaneously safeguards the integrity of the soldier, differentiating between
“soldier” and “homosexual.” One justification for this might be to calm fears of propagating
homosexuality among the public at large via the distribution of his book:
Man hat gelegentlich die Befürchtung ausgesprochen, es könnte durch
populäre Schriften für die Homosexualität selbst “Propaganda” gemacht
werden. So sehr eine gerechte Beurteilung der Homosexuellen angestrebt
werden muß, so wenig wäre dieses zu billigen. Die Gefahr liegt aber nicht
vor. (Hirschfeld, Berlins 10)
According to Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory, all men and all women exhibit both male and
female traits. The “normal” man and the “normal” woman are drawn together in order to
seek out the sex in them that had regressed. The male side of virile homosexual men, or
rather, “männliche Seelenzwitter, Männer mit Neigung zu beiden Geschlechtern” (Sappho 14)
is greater, and therefore such men seek effeminate homosexuals with a larger percentage of
female characteristics: “mannliebende Männer, Urninger (Uranier)” (Sappho 15). As long as
the “male” seeks the “female” and vice-versa, this homosexuality is not pathological. Virile
males seeking the same, or effeminate males seeking the same would be pathological.
Hirschfeld’s argument is based on patriarchal gender roles of the day and strongly supports
them. The virile male is virile because of his relationship with the effeminate male. By taking
the soldier figure as the virile counterpart to effeminate Berliner homosexuals, Hirschfeld
thereby sexes the soldier, exposing not only the soldier’s “male” object of desire, but more
importantly, the soldier’s sexual drive itself.3
The ideal soldier was to merely signify masculinity. His body and his uniform, which
was again a signifier of the soldier’s masculinity, both belonged to the State. For the ideal
soldier, there was no division of public and private life: there was only his service to the
101
state; his duty as a public servant. However, meetings with homosexuals take the soldier out
of his military context and afford the soldier a forbidden private sphere in which the soldier
can satisfy his male sex drive.
Hirschfeld does not clearly define the exact relationship between soldiers and
homosexuals in Berlin; however, “soldiers” are never referred to as “homosexuals.”
Hirschfeld always distinguishes between “soldiers” and the “homosexuals” with whom the
soldiers fraternize:
Besondere Berücksichtigung verdienen unter den Berliner Urningslokalen die
“Soldatenkneipen”, welche, meist in der Nähe der Kasernen gelegen, in den
Stunden von Feierabend bis zum Zapfenstreich am besuchtesten sind. Um
diese Zeit sieht man in diesen Wirtschaften meist gegen 50 Soldaten, darunter
auch Unteroffiziere, die hingekommen sind, um sich einen Homosexuellen
zu suchen, der sie freihält, und selten kehrt jemand in die Kaserne zurück,
ohne das Gewünschte gefunden zu haben. (Berlins 90)
In this passage, “soldier bars” are presented as places that serve as meeting points for
soldiers and homosexuals. One is either the subject or the object of sexual pursuit. In
Hirschfeld’s depiction of the subject/object relationship, the subject is always the soldier; the
homosexual always the object of the soldier’s sex drive. Such bars are also forbidden places,
not just because homosexuals and soldiers “interact.” More importantly, such interaction
marks a break of the soldier’s obedience, a reversion of the soldier’s sex drive to its original
function, a retreat of the soldier from the public to the private sphere. According to
Theweleit, a retreat such as that mentioned by Hirschfeld is a forbidden luxury in the life of
the soldier:
Der Tag hat keine Lücken. Um auch nur Sekunden zu schinden für
Tätigkeiten, die nicht Dienst sind, muß man ein Meister geworden sein in der
Absolvierung des Geforderten. Alles ist geplant und alles ist öffentlich. Es
gibt keinen Ort, wohin ein Rückzug möglich wäre. Die Toilettentüren lassen
den Blick auf Kopf und Füße des Sitzenden frei. Die Hosen haben keine
Taschen. (2, 168)
102
According to Hirschfeld’s report, when locations where soldiers and homosexuals interact
are discovered, they are immediately forbidden by military officials. Such measures are an
attempt to discipline and subvert the soldier’s sexual drive, to strip him of any individuality.
However, as Hirschfeld writes, such attempts are not successful: “Es tun sich dann stets bald
wieder ein oder zwei, auch mehrere ähnliche Lokale in derselben Gegend auf” (Hirschfeld,
Berlins 90). Thus, as long as there are “soldier bars,” there always exists the possibility for
soldiers and homosexuals to interact. Hirschfeld describes the interior of one such bar:
Würde ein Normalsexueller derartige Lokale betreten, er würde sich vielleicht
wundern, daß dort so viele fein gekleidete Herren mit Soldaten sitzen, im
übrigen aber wohl kaum jemals etwas Anstößiges finden. Die hier bei
Bockwurst mit Salat und Bier geschlossenen Freundschaften zwischen
Homosexuellen und Soldaten halten oft über die ganze Dienstzeit, nicht
selten darüber hinaus vor. So mancher Urning erhält, wenn der Soldat schon
längst als verheirateter Bauer fern von seiner geliebten Garnison Berlin in
heimatliches Gauen das Land bestellt, “Frischgeschlachtetes” als Zeichen
freundlichen Gedenkens. (Berlins 92)
Even for a “normal” person, the situation would appear “strangely normal” in a soldier bar.
Instead of finding anything offensive, the visitor would witness soldier and homosexual
“breaking bread” together, forging not sexual but gastronomical ties. This quote smacks of
camaraderie, a “legitimate” bond between men, especially among soldiers.4 In order to
normalize the homosexual in a bourgeois context, both the homosexual and the soldier are
de-eroticized in this depiction of their friendship. After his service has ended, the “healthy”
soldier returns to his farm, from which he sends meat (his “kill”) to his degenerate
homosexual friend in the city.
As much as Hirschfeld strives to separate the “soldier” from the “homosexual,” he
grants that visual cues alone are not safe markers by which to categorize men either as
“normal” or as “deviants”:
Aber selbst für den, der viele typische Eigenschaften urnischer Menschen
kennt, bleiben doch sehr viele verborgen, sei es, weil ihnen, was nicht selten
103
vorkommt, tatsächlich bemerkbare Anzeichen fehlen, indem sie sich den
Normalen in allen Gewohnheiten anpassen und ihre Neigungen wohlweislich
zu verheimlichen wissen. Die meisten legen viel wert darauf, daß “man ihnen
nichts anmerkt” (Berlins 15).
Despite Hirschfeld’s best efforts, the categories “soldier” and “homosexual” sometimes blur.
In a passage describing typical nicknames among homosexuals in Berlin, Hirschfeld makes
mention of the “Soldatentanten” (soldier queens),
[. . .] welche vielfach ihre Spitznamen nach denjenigen Truppenteilen
bekommen, für die sie sich besonders interessieren; so gibt es eine
“Ulanenjuste”, eine “Dragonerbraut”, eine “Kürassieranna”, eine
“Kanoniersche”, ja sogar eine “Schießschulsche”, der seinen Namen davon
führt, weil er mit Vorliebe die Wirtschaften in der Umgegend der
Schießschule aufsucht. (Berlins 87)
Once again, it is not so much an individual’s class or exterior characteristics by which one is
judged to be a homosexual, but rather, the determining factor is often where one frequents.
The homosexual stands somewhere between object of pity, compassionate caretaker,
and object of exchange among soldiers—truly, the classical role assigned to women vis-à-vis
the soldier.5 Hirschfeld reports that “[e]s kommt sogar vor, daß sich diese Verhältnisse auf
die nachfolgenden Brüder übertragen; so kenne ich einen Fall, wo ein Homosexueller
nacheinander mit drei Brüdern verkehrte, die bei den Kürassieren standen” (Berlins 92).
Thomas Kühne writes that “Mann-Sein bedeutet Abgrenzung – gegen Frauen und
Weiblichkeit,
aber
auch
gegen
Männer
und
anders
gestaltetes
Mann-Sein”
(“Männergeschichte” 22). Indeed, Hirschfeld defines the soldier ex negativo via the
homosexual who is a caretaker, who belongs to the private sphere, and who gladly does
“women’s work” for the “soldier-man.” Revolutionary is Hirschfeld’s openness with which
he portrays homosexual relationships in Berlin—conservative is not only his insistence on
shrouding such relationships with traditional heterosexual gender roles, but also his
“privileging” the soldier with the “masculine” role.6 The relationship between “soldier” and
104
“homosexual” in Hirschfeld’s report could be seen as a union of public and private spheres,
of masculine and feminine partners—in short, as the “normal” bourgeois gender construct
of the day:
Gewöhnlich kommt der Soldat, wenn der Dienst zu Ende, in die Wohnung
seines Freundes, der ihm bereits sein Lieblingsessen eigenhändig gekocht hat,
dessen gewaltige Mengen hastig verschlungen werden. Dann nimmt der junge
Krieger in gesundheitsstrotzender Breite auf dem Sofa Platz, während der
Urning, bescheiden auf einem Stuhle sitzend, ihm die mitgebrachte zerrissene
Wäsche flickt oder die Weihnachtspantoffeln stickt, mit denen jener
eigentlich überrascht werden sollte, die aber zu verheimlichen, die
Beherrschungskraft des glücklichen Liebhabers um ein Beträchtliches
übersteigt. (Berlins 92-93)
Hirschfeld inserts a healthy dose of irony into this passage: his tone makes the situation at
once extremely foreign and extremely familiar. Certainly, the passage is about two males in a
domestic setting, but the two play their roles just as a happy heterosexual couple would.
Spheres are strictly divided and gendered. The soldier returns from his service to the private
sphere of the homosexual. The soldier’s masculinity is highlighted by a healthy appetite; the
homosexual’s femininity is proven by his prowess in the kitchen. Body language speaks
louder than words—the young “warrior” sits in a “masculine” manner with legs spread on
the sofa. The homosexual sits “bescheiden”—poised—on a chair next to his soldier, mending
the soldier’s laundry. The slippers that the homosexual is knitting for the soldier signify the
homosexual’s desire to include the soldier in the private sphere; an attempt on the part of
the homosexual to domesticate the soldier.
The intersection of the public and private spheres is a temporary one, as the soldier
cannot stay with the homosexual:
Währenddem werden alle die kleinen Einzelheiten des königlichen Dienstes
besprochen; was der “Alte” (Hauptmann) beim Appell gesagt hat, was
morgen für Dienst ist, wann man auf Wache muß und ob man ihn nicht am
nächsten Tage irgendwo vorbeimarschieren sehen könnte. Schließlich geleitet
man ihn bis in die Nähe der Kaserne, nicht ohne vorher die Feldflasche mit
Rotspon gefüllt und die Butterstullen eingepackt zu haben. (Berlins 93)
105
Like the location of the “soldier bars,” the intersection of private and public spheres, of the
soldier’s and homosexual’s lives, can be traced topographically: “just near the barracks.” Like
the slippers, the red wine and the butter sandwiches signify the transfer of the private
(homosexual) into the public (soldier) sphere, of the warmth and comfort that is denied the
soldier.7
There are also those rare occasions where the homosexual is party to the public life
of the soldier. However, the homosexual must perform a role in order to gain entry and
acceptance in the soldier’s sphere. He must mask himself to avoid drawing attention to
himself, to the fact that “he does not belong.”8
Ein noch größerer Feiertag aber ist das “Kaisersgeburtstagskompagnievergnügen”. Da geht der Homosexuelle als “Cousin” mit seinem Freunde hin.
In rührender Glückseligkeit tanzt er mit dem Mädchen, mit welchem gerade
zuvor sein Soldat getanzt hat, er hat keine Ahnung, wie sie aussieht, denn er
hat nur auf ihn gesehen und während er das Mädchen umfaßt hielt, nur an
ihn gedacht. Womöglich spricht auch der Hauptmann mit ihm als Cousin
seines Gefreiten oder Unteroffiziers. Es kann sich aber auch ereignen, daß
der Homosexuelle zu seinem Leidwesen diesem Festtage fernbleiben muß,
wenn er nämlich einige Tage zuvor mit einem der anwesenden Offiziere
irgendwo an demselben Diner teilgenommen hat. (Berlins 93-94)
As the soldier’s “cousin,” the homosexual wears the mask of heterosexuality, thereby
“norming” himself, “sharing” a female dance partner with “his” soldier and reducing her to
an object of exchange among men. However, the homosexual’s mask wears thin. First, his
affections are not directed toward his female dance partner, but rather to “his” soldier.
Second, his mask becomes transparent—or at least suspect—if the homosexual “cousin”
accompanies the soldier to too many engagements. Therefore, his access to the soldier’s
public sphere remains very limited, and the homosexual is forced to wait in his private
sphere for “his” soldier.
If, according to Hirschfeld’s account, the “soldier” is not a “homosexual,” and if
these relationships are not of a sexual nature, what is the impetus for the “soldier” to seek
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out the “homosexual,” at least in Berlin? The answer can be defined vis-à-vis gendered
spheres of influence:
Die Gründe, welche den Soldaten zum Verkehr mit Homosexuellen
veranlassen, liegen nahe; es ist einmal der Wunsch, sich das Leben in der
Großstadt etwas komfortabler zu gestalten, besseres Essen, mehr Getränke,
Zigarren und Vergnügungen (Tanzboden, Theater etc.) zu haben; dazu
kommt, daß er – der oft sehr bildungsbedürftige Landwirt, Handwerker oder
Arbeiter – im Verkehr mit dem Homosexuellen geistig zu profitieren hofft,
dieser gibt ihm gute Bücher, spricht mit ihm über die Zeitereignisse, geht mit
ihm ins Museum, zeigt ihm, was sich schickt und was er nicht tun soll; das oft
drollige, komische Wesen des Urnings trägt auch zu seiner Erheiterung bei;
wenn sein Freund ihm abends Couplets vorsingt oder ihm gar, mit dem
Lampenschirm als Kapotte und einer Schürze weiblich zurecht gestutzt,
etwas vortanzt, amüsiert er sich in seiner Naivität über alle Maßen. (Berlins 9495)
Hirschfeld’s portrayal of the homosexual is two-sided. One the one hand, the homosexual is
portrayed as that benevolent force, the “Strom mütterlichen Empfindens” (Theweleit 1: 176), that
is denied the soldier in the Berlin barracks. Not only this, but the homosexual provides
access to high culture in Berlin, the “city mouse” that contributes to the Bildung of the
otherwise simple-minded “country mouse” that is the soldier. On the other hand, the
homosexual is portrayed as a grotesquely comic figure, not only with respect to his “being,”
but also with respect to his parody of feminine costume and dance. His performance
becomes grotesque in that the lampshade hat and feminine apron is in effect a self-parody of
his rather “female” gender—a Rivierean “masquerade,” a desire on the part of the
homosexual to access “masculinity” (see endnote 8).
Just when it seems that Hirschfeld will completely circumvent the issue of sexual
relations between “soldier” and “homosexual,” he offers additional reasons for the soldier’s
interaction with the homosexual: “Weitere Momente sind der Mangel an Geld oder an
Mädchen, die den Soldaten nichts kosten, die Furcht vor den beim Militär sehr übel
akkreditierten Geschlechtskrankheiten und die gute Absicht, der daheim bleibenden Braut
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treu zu bleiben, der man beim Abschied die Treue geschworen und die in jedem
‘Schreibebrief’ ängstlich an diesen Schwur gemahnt” (Berlins 96). In short, the soldier’s
resources for sexual release are limited. While camaraderie allows for protection from higher
authorities as well as from outsiders, a transfer of accepted homosocial to forbidden
homosexual interaction among comrades would result in the exclusion of the soldier. Money
that could pay for prostitutes, or “girls” who would willingly give themselves to the soldiers
are both hard to come by.
Then there is the question of sexually transmitted diseases that often plague the
soldier while in the army. Like disease, women who live in symbiosis with the army, with
war, are seen as an unavoidable “evil,” if not a necessary one.9 As limited in number as they
may be, such women are often blamed for the spread of syphilis and gonorrhea.10 The
“homosexual” gives the “soldier” two favorable options. Not only do homosexuals offer
soldiers common comforts (if not certain luxuries) while the soldier is in Berlin, but they also
provide a sexual outlet beyond the military realm, both in terms of person and topography.
Hirschfeld does acknowledge that “military trade,” or male prostitution, exists:
In der Nähe der geschilderten Kneipen befindet sich vielfach auch der
“militärische Strich”, auf dem die Soldaten einzeln oder in Paaren gehend
Annäherung an Homosexuelle suchen. [. . .] Es gibt etwa ein halbes Dutzend
Stellen, auf denen die Soldaten nach Einbruch der Dämmerung in
bestimmter Absicht auf- und abgehen. Wie die Lokale, wechseln auch die
“Striche” ziemlich häufig, so ist erst neuerdings ein vielbegangener Weg, das
Planufer, den Soldaten verboten worden. (Berlins 97)
However, Hirschfeld is careful to protect the respectability of the “good homosexual” by
separating that figure from the “male prostitute.” To be sure, it is often the homosexual who
is the victim of blackmail by male prostitutes:
Prostitution und Verbrechertum gehen Hand in Hand; Diebstähle und
Einbrüche,
Erpressungen
und
Nötigungen,
Fälschungen
und
Unterschlagungen, Gewalttätigkeiten jeder Art, kurz alle möglichen
Verbrechen wider die Person und das Eigentum sind bei dem größten Teil
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der männlichen Prostituierten an der Tagesordnung, und besonders
gefährlich ist es, daß diese Delikte von den verängstigten Homosexuellen in
den meisten Fällen nicht zur Anzeige gebracht werden. (Hirschfeld, Berlins
123)
The “good homosexual” is a respectable “partner” for the soldier, and the homosexual’s social
“outsider status” combined with his good economic status makes him an ideal “partner” for
the soldier. The soldier does not have to fear exclusion from his comrades, nor disease from
prostitutes (male or female) as a result of sexual relations with the respectable homosexual,
who is free from venereal disease. Most importantly, the soldier is not betraying his female
partner at home by having sex with a homosexual—the homosexual is not an object of
desire, but rather an object of convenience. Neither does the sexual act make the soldier a
homosexual—the two roles are strictly divided, both in terms of gender as well as in terms
of sexuality.
Hirschfeld never clearly states that the relationship between homosexual and soldier
is sexual in nature. Indeed, how does one offer a respectable literary representation of
homosexuality, when homosexual acts are subject to prosecution under § 175? Hirschfeld is
quick to separate “soldier prostitution” from “normal” prostitution in order to protect both
the soldier and the homosexual from additional legal scrutiny:
Die gebräuchliche Bezeichnung “Soldatenprostitution” entspricht übrigens
dem sonstigen Begriff der Prostitution nicht, da es sich ja bei den Soldaten
keineswegs “um eine berufs- oder gewerbsmäßige Hingabe des Körpers”
handelt. Ich möchte hier der weit verbreiteten Ansicht entgegentreten, als ob
dem Verkehr zwischen Soldaten und Homosexuellen gewöhnlich Akte zu
Grunde liegen, die an und für sich strafbar sind. Kommt es zu
geschlechtlichen Handlungen, was durchaus nicht immer der Fall ist, so
bestehen diese fast stets in Erregungen durch Umarmen, Aneinanderpressen
und Berühren der Körperteile, wie dies überhaupt die Regel ist. Die
Vorstellung, der Homosexuelle, namentlich auch der weiblicher geartete, sei
Päderast in des Wortes üblichem Sinn, ist eine vollkommen irrtümliche.
(Berlins 98)
109
To say that Hirschfeld’s definition of “soldier prostitution” is ambivalent would be mild—he
simultaneously constructs and deconstructs the erotic element of soldier-homosexual
relationships in a single passage. “Soldier prostitution” is—and is not—a form of
prostitution. These relations are—and are not—homosexual in nature. In addition, sexual
relations—if they ever occur—really are not “sexual” in nature. In other words, no illegal
acts occur between soldier and homosexual. Hirschfeld not only sexes and de-sexes the
soldier, but the homosexual as well.
In this passage, Hirschfeld acknowledges relationships—whatever nature these may
be—between the soldier and the homosexual. However, he knows that by sexing the soldier,
he is treading on thin ice. In order to safeguard the soldier, the homosexual, and himself
from legal scrutiny, he makes certain that the reader understands that the reasons that the
soldier fraternizes with the homosexual stem not (merely) from sexual needs, but rather
from an innocent longing for compassion and comfort. The homosexual is therefore a
respectable citizen, because in contributing to the well-being and education of the soldier, he
is also contributing to the good of the Nation. Paul Näcke confirms this in his article “Ein
Besuch bei den Homosexuellen in Berlin mit Bemerkungen über Homosexualität” (1904):
Alles in allem genommen, habe ich die Überzeugung gewonnen, daß es sich
bei den Homosexuellen um keine die Gesellschaft schädigenden Elemente
handelt, im Gegenteil, daß, wenn diese vielen, infolge ihrer unrichtigen
Beurteilung niedergetretenen und gescheiterten Existenzen der Gesellschaft
erhalten blieben, dies nicht nur für die Urninge selbst, sondern auch für die
Gesamtheit ein entschiedener Vorteil wäre. (190)
Stories from the Front in the Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen (1915-16)
With Germany’s involvement in World War I, it became more important than ever for
Hirschfeld to portray the homosexual as a benevolent and patriotic citizen; to erase the
notion that the homosexual outsider was degenerate and a latent internal threat.11 Not only
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did the male homosexual grace the home front with his generous spirit; his involvement at
the battle front both as a comrade and as a fighter became an additional case for the repeal
of § 175. For Hirschfeld and the Scientific Humanitarian Committee, it was clear that the
struggle against § 175 would have to wait until the war had ended. Hirschfeld quotes his
contemporary Albert Moll, who stated that homosexuality did not fit with the Staatsidee; that
in this time of war “[. . .] vor allem die Staatsidee gekräftigt werde: ihr müsse sich alles
unterordnen und deshalb hätten die Homosexuellen weniger denn je Aussicht auf Erfüllung
ihrer Forderungen” (Vierteljahrsberichte Apr. 1915: 33). With this in mind, Hirschfeld clearly
defines the purpose of the “Wissenschaftlich-humanitären Komitee zur Kriegszeit”:
So wichtig uns unsere Arbeit in Friedenszeiten schien, so notwendig es ist, sie
nach dem Kriege wiederaufzunehmen und auch jetzt dafür zu sorgen, daß sie
nicht unter den Trümmern dieser einzigartigen Zerstörung und Vernichtung
mit begraben wird, so sehr verliert sie doch an Bedeutung, wenn wir sie
messen an der Trauer, dem Elend und all dem Jammer, von dem nun schon
lange unser Erdteil widerhallt.(Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3: 103)
Therefore, during wartime, all Germans—liberal and conservative, homosexual and
heterosexual—would band together and disregard the ideological, indeed, corporal
boundaries that divided them. Individual suffering would be overlooked for the good of the
whole, to which homosexuals belonged, even if only as outsiders:
Gewiß, auch die urnisch gearteten Menschen stehen in einem Kampf, in dem
sie Recht und Freiheit, ihre Ehre und Existenz verteidigen; auch sie führen
einen Feldzug gegen Verleumdung und Bosheit, aber jetzt verstummt ihr
Leid und ihre Klage, denn jetzt gehen ganze Völker, gehen Millionen von
Menschen aufeinander los, von denen keiner dem anderen etwas Böses getan,
nur weil die kurzsichtige Beschränktheit weniger es so für gut befunden hat.
[. . .] Bis [der Krieg vorbei ist] muß jede Frage, auch die homosexuelle, unter
dem Gesichtswinkel des Krieges oder im Zusammenhang mit diesem
betrachtet werden. Hält sie auch dieser Betrachtung stand, mit anderen
Worten: ist der Homosexuelle auch im Kriege wie im Frieden kein
antisozialer Faktor, sondern einer, der dem Ganzen nutzt und dient, so hat er
auch hierdurch bewiesen, daß sein Gerechtigkeitsanspruch begründet ist.
(Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3: 103-04)
111
The war provides Hirschfeld and the homosexuals a new opportunity—or method—with
which to legitimize themselves. In order to be able to be patriotic, one cannot be an
Outsider; one must belong to the whole. The struggle against § 175 would indeed
continue—if not indirectly—through the patriotic service of the German homosexual.
Thus, it is in this manner in which Hirschfeld continues his work through wartime.
Much like in his Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, in these volumes of the Jahrbuch für sexuelle
Zwischenstufen homosexuals tell their own stories in letters that they write to Hirschfeld, or in
letters that had been passed on to him. The exchange of letters is not only an intimate form
of communication, but also a democratizing form of communication that erases the doctorpatient relationship still evident in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht. Hirschfeld explains:
[. . .] da es unsere Leser begreiflicherweise verlangt, in dieser Zeitvor [sic]
allem zu hören, wie das Ereignis des Krieges sich in der Seele und im Leben
der Homosexuellen widerspiegelt, und wie es die Probleme beeinflußt, denen
diese Zeitschrift im besonderen gewidmet ist.
Dabei beschränken wir uns darauf, ganz objektiv die uns zugehenden
Briefe für sich sprechen zu lassen. Sprechen Sie zu Gunsten ihrer Schreiber, so
ist das keineswegs, wie ein alter Gegner unsers W.-h. Komitees wieder einmal
behauptet, eine “Verherrlichung der Homosexuellen sogar im Kriege”. Ist
das, was der Herr Gegner hier als Tadel ausspricht, bei unvoreingenommener
Betrachtung nicht vielmehr das Gegenteil? (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.3: 99)
These letters, in which the “homosexual” is portrayed/portrays himself as active on the
home and on the war fronts, can be categorized according to the different constructs of the
hybrid “homosexual soldier” that they enunciate. I suggest that each category could be
considered a “genre” in and of itself, as not only the style and the audience, but also the
patchwork of discourses varies according to construct. The first genre is made up of letters
from soldiers who had been incarcerated due to § 175 and their attempt for reinstatement in
the military. The letters of the officer who was dismissed because of his love for a cadet
comprise the second genre. The third consists of letters that portray Kameradschaft through a
homosexual lens. Letters from or about soldiers who suffer from weak nerves characterize
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the fourth genre, and the final genre are letters from the beloved soldier to the caretaker at
home.12 A female reader writes:
(15.VII.1915) Der Kriegsbericht hat einen tiefen Eindruck auf mich gemacht.
Ich muß das graue Heft immer wieder zur Hand nehmen und bin voll des
Mitleidens und Miterlebens. [. . .] In diesen Briefen ist ein Zug, den sie
gemeinsam haben; auch jedem klingt der feste treue Wille, alles für das
Vaterland einzusetzen, und jeder zeugt von einem reinen und tiefen
Empfinden. [. . .] Denn in Briefen tritt der Homosexuelle den Lesern als
Mensch gegenüber; sie lernen ihn in seinen intimen Seelenregungen kennen,
wie innig er für seinen Freund fühlt, wie groß und aufrichtig seine Hingabe
an das Vaterland ist, kurzum, er tritt ihnen menschlich nahe.
(Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3: 105)
The First “Genre”: “Den Heldentod sterben zu dürfen”
Letters that fall under this category—Throngesuche—are written by those soldiers who, having
lost their important offices in the army due to a violation of § 175, now attempt to clear their
name and regain their honor by enlisting in the war as a simple volunteer. Hirschfeld does
not offer an exact number of cases, but only speaks of “eine ganze Anzahl” and “so
manchen früheren Offizieren und gedienten Soldaten” (“Rundschreiben” 1-2). The
following example is that of a former officer who, after having no response to three previous
requests to be reenlisted, writes to Hirschfeld:
Am 6. Dezember 1914 reichte ich dann unter Darlegung aller Verhältnisse
ein viertes Throngesuch an Seine Majestät ein und bat abermals um
Einstellung als Kriegsfreiwilliger. In diesem Throngesuch heißt es u. a.:
“Meine und meines Vaters an Eure Majestät gerichtete unterthänigste Bitte
ging dahin, Euer Majestät möchten die große Gnade haben, mir während der
mobilen Zeit durch Wiederanstellung im Heere, wo und in welcher Stellung
immer es sei, im jetzigen großen Kampfe gegen des Vaterlandes Feinde
Gelegenheit zu geben, um meine durch die gerichtliche Strafe bereits
gesühnte Schuld voll und ganz zu tilgen, sei es mit meinem Blut oder Leben.
Sollte ich aus dem Kriege durch Gottes gnädige Fügung unversehrt
zurückkehren, so will ich ohne Murren des Königs Rock wieder vertauschen
mit dem Gewand des Bürgers. [. . .]” Auf dieses Throngesuch habe ich bis
heute (Ende März 1915) keinerlei Antwort erhalten. (Vierteljahrsberichte Apr.
1915: 8)
113
In this excerpt, the former officer tries to disentangle himself from a web of legal discourse:
his offense is not simply a matter of civilian law with regard to § 175, but also of military law.
Had the former officer been convicted as a civilian, he would have faced a jail sentence. In
the military, the former officer is removed from military life with a dishonorable discharge.
The author presents himself first and foremost as a soldier, and the Throngesuch acts as his
“confession” to the Kaiser himself. His “sin” of homosexual activity not only marks him as a
criminal, but also strips him of his “soldierly honor” and office within the military. The
officer knows that within the military, his “sin” is far too great to ever be forgiven. In what
seems like a selfless act of patriotism, the former officer’s plea to be reinstated in the
military—if only for the duration of the War—is his only chance to clear his name; to
“wash” his “sins” away with his blood that he “sacrifices” for the Fatherland or for the
Kaiser, the Fatherland incarnate. Yet his plea goes unanswered, and the officer remains, in
terms of honor, a fallen soldier. In keeping with the trope of Theweleit’s military “Machine,”
if one part is found to be faulty or different from the rest, that part is rejected from the
Whole and reduced to the status of the Outsider.13 This is enunciated by a soldier who
defines his relationship as a homosexual with the State:
“Am meisten Schwierigkeiten machte mir die immer wieder vor mich
hintretende Frage: gehöre ich dem Staate überhaupt an? – Und immer wieder
mußte ich sagen: nein. Sobald der Staat wüßte, daß ich bin so wie ich bin,
betrachtete er mich als einen Schandfleck seines Staatengebildes, und nun wo
dieser Staat bedroht ist, soll ich mich da drängen, an der Erhaltung dieses
Staates, welcher mir in seiner Kurzsichtigkeit jede Daseinsberechtigung
abspricht, mitzuarbeiten und mit meinem Blut, mit meiner Gesundheit das
Wohl dieses Staates zu erhalten suchen? Nichts gab mir auf diese bangen
Fragen Antwort. Jetzt kann ich mir selbst eine Antwort geben, und die heißt:
meine Pflicht ruft mich nicht in den Dienst meines Staates, aber die Pflicht
ruft mich zu dem Kampfe der Menschheit im allgemein.” (Vierteljahrsberichte
16.1: 37)
The soldier-homosexual is someone who is aware of his status as a Sünder and/or as Schande
for his unit; a de-facto dual-identity as soldier and as homosexual. As strong as both
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identities are, the two cannot be reconciled in the public sphere. The first soldier is not able
to realize this fact, believing instead that his prison sentence and additional service on the
battlefield might serve to “clear his name” and restore his honor, thereby making possible
his reinstatement in the military. In contrast, the second soldier realizes that his
homosexuality and his soldierly duty cannot be reconciled; on the contrary: to wear the mask
of the soldier is to wear the mask of heterosexuality. Although all young men have been
called to sacrifice themselves for their State in times of war, the secularization of the
Christian tradition of Christ’s sacrifice of body and blood in the Occident had largely been
eroticized and ascribed to the female body in modernity.14 By ascribing “self-sacrifice” to the
homosexual, this could be read as an additional feminization of the homosexual. In such
letters, therefore, the homosexual—whether consciously of subconsciously—includes the
shame, sin, and loss of honor from legal and military discourse in his (self-)depiction of the
soldier-homosexual.
The Second “Genre”: “Wenn die Rede auf homosexuelle Angelegenheiten kommt”
Other letters, addressed to Hirschfeld, describe the doomed love story between an Officer
and Cadet. Not only does the author describe the love story in fullest detail; he also tells his
story “via” or in connection with his status as Officer. Thus, the patriarchal order that
defines many heterosexual relationships can be found in such Officer/Cadet relationships,
where “male” and “female” and “active” and “passive” roles are played out according to
rank and age.
Such is the relationship between the letter’s author, the dismissed “Officer U.” (also
called “Baby” by his company and Major) and his beloved “Karl.” Officer U. places much
emphasis on his role as a soldier, and although he does not deny his love for Karl, he takes
great strides to put their love in the best possible light: “Ihnen, Herr Doktor, kann ich ruhig
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eingestehen, wir haben uns auch sexuell betätigt. Aber nur sehr, sehr selten und in ganz
zarter, ästhetischer, niemals strafbarerer Form” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 14). His “confession”
might at first seem ambivalent; however, his insistence that their sexual activity was
“aesthetic” calls forth the strategy of the “modernist homosexual aesthetic.” This aesthetic
“used” by homosexuals is, as I argue, a method of legitimization. Aestheticism is “positive”
politics; it generates, reproduces, and transmits a message of legitimacy. In contrast,
“disgust” is offensive: that which gives pain or unpleasant sensations, that which is unhealthy
and must be eliminated from the individual or the collective body. An “aesthetic”
homosexual love, therefore, would indeed be “practiced” very seldom, would be tender, and
would not include the criminal form of Päderastie, the contemporary term for anal
intercourse.15 In other words, their “aesthetic” love was legitimate, and Hirschfeld’s inclusion
of this statement in the Vierteljahrsberichten
is a conscious act to further legitimize
homosexuality in society.
However, the public sphere—especially the military sphere—was not ready for any
form of homosexuality, “aesthetic” or otherwise. In order to be a soldier, the mask of
heterosexuality still had to be worn. As previously mentioned, this mask sometimes wore
thin, and other soldiers might be able to see beyond the mask in spite of—or because of—
the mask. Such was the case with “Baby” and Karl, when both had been transferred to
“Fliegerstation O.” The Major remarks that
“[. . .] dem Baby [Officer U.] scheint’s bei uns zu gefallen – oder kann er sich
von dem Vizebaby (Karls Beinamen) nicht trennen?’ Auch der Adjutant, ein
junger Jurist, machte sehr nachdenkliche Augen; – man las ordentlich den
§ 175 R.St.G.B. von seiner Stirn. [. . .] Doch ich ließ mich dadurch nicht
einschüchtern.” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 14)
One wonders if Officer U.’s mask was wearing thin, or if he was suffering from a guilty
conscience. Or if, in military terms, he simply had been successfully “disciplined” à la
116
Foucault and Theweleit: Officer U. needs no “punishment” from higher ranks to know that
homosexual behavior is punishable behavior—he disciplines himself via the Major’s
“innocent” remark and from the reflective look of the young lawyer, the Law incorporate. In
defiance of the young lawyer and § 175, Officer U. continues his relationship with Karl.
However, Officer U. continues to wear the soldierly mask, the mask of heterosexuality when
in contact with other officers, regardless of rank.16
Hirschfeld seizes upon this fact in his portrayal of the homosexual soldier. Just as he
strictly divides “homosexual” and “soldier” in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, so too is Hirschfeld
careful to portray the “homosexual soldier” in World War I first and foremost as soldier, who
knows that as a soldier, it is part of his duty (to himself, his comrades, the State) that he wear
the soldierly mask, which I also interpret as the mask of heterosexuality. One could (or
should) go even further and say that this mask is the “norming” mask. Indeed, this
mechanism of norming the homosexual fits Hirschfeld’s strategy of “moving” the
homosexual from the realm of the Outsider to a part of the respectable whole along the
societal bell-curve.
It is not only the homosexual who wears the mask in the military; rather, all soldiers,
as part of the military “Machine,” wear this mask in order to perform their role as soldier.
Karl and Officer U. lived together in Officer U.’s quarters. Early one morning while the two
were in bed, there came a knock at the door. Officer U. instinctively said “come in” and with
that, he and Karl were “unmasked,” exposed as homosexuals. They were discovered by a
certain young “Leutnant M.” Officer U. literally allowed his private sphere (his bedroom) to
be penetrated by his public sphere (the military in the form of the lieutenant). What is
interesting is the performance of this young lieutenant when he and Officer U. went into the
sitting room, a sort of overlap between private and public spheres: “Dabei beobachtete ich
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ihn ganz scharf – nein, er war vollständig gleichmütig, er hatte ‘nichts gemerkt’. Oder er war
ein vortrefflicher Schauspieler” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 15).That he was. Officer U. would be
discharged soon thereafter due to a “neuropathischen Erkrankung” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1:
16).
As in the case of the Throngesuch in the first section, Officer U.—although unmasked
and rejected by the military “Machine”—remains a soldier in his own mind. However,
Officer U. does not reject “Uranian love,” nor does he consider it a sin or a disgrace:
Wenn ich sagen wollte, es täte mir nicht leid, daß ich den Königsrock
ausziehen mußte, so müßte ich lügen. Dazu bin ich zuviel Soldat gewesen.
Aber ich bin auch nicht unglücklich oder gar verzweifelt deswegen. [. . .] Ich
werde mir die Überzeugung doch nicht nehmen lassen, daß Urningsliebe
mindestens ebenso heilig und rein, edel und gut ist wie jede heterosexuelle
Neigung! (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 16)
Officer U. is willing to wear the soldierly mask and perform in accordance with militarysanctioned external appearances in a public sphere. However, he not only demands the right
to have his own private sphere—his own sexuality—but he also demands that it be
recognized as equal to heterosexuality. This marks a big step in the self-consciousness and
self-image of the homosexual soldier. By publishing such statements, Hirschfeld is able to
take the next step in reconciling military life with homosexuality and to portray not
“soldiers” and “homosexuals” as subject and object, but also “homosexual soldiers.” These
are soldiers who on the one hand are able to wear the public mask of heterosexuality as a
means of “self-discipline,” and who on the other hand increasingly demand the individual
right for a private, homosexual sphere.
Officer U.’s partner Karl was killed in battle. Like the story of the soldier and the
Throngesuch, it was Officer U.’s greatest wish to return to the military, which he does as a
volunteer: “Sie können sich kaum vorstellen, wie froh, glücklich und stolz ich bin, wieder
Soldat zu sein, auch wenn nur Kriegsfreiwilliger” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 16).
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Genre Three: “Menschen, die man lieben muß”: “Kameradschaft” and the Homosexual Soldier
If the “homosexual soldier” did exist, then how successful was his performance among
comrades in the field? Once again, Hirschfeld uses the letters from the field as evidence for
the successful integration of the homosexual into the military world—this despite their more
“sensitive” constitution:
Vornehmlich sind es folgende seelische Eigenschaften, die uns in den
Kriegsbriefen unserer feldgrauen Homosexuellen fast immer wieder
entgegentreten. Stark ausgeprägter Gemeinschaftssinn und inniges
Kameradschaftsgefühl auf der einen, dabei tiefer Schmerz über die grausame
Tatsache des Krieges, dem die Blüte aller Nationen zum Opfer fällt, auf der
anderen Seite des weiteren treue Liebe und aufopferungsbereite Hingabe
zum Vaterland, verbunden mit dem großen Kummer, daß dieses von seinen
urnischen Söhnen nichts wissen will, welche die gemeinsame Heimatscholle
doch ebenso tapfer verteidigen wie ihre von Geburt und Natur glücklicher
veranlagten Kameraden. Das sind so die hervorstehenden Empfindungen,
die, ganz unabhängig von einander in den Zuschriften der Homosexuellen
ihren Ausdruck finden. (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 16)
When I first read this passage, I found Hirschfeld’s argumentation to be yet again
ambivalent. These “homosexuals in uniform” were on the one hand good soldiers, yet on
the other hand, it seemed that Hirschfeld was again presenting the homosexual’s sexuality as
a handicap in contrast to those with a heterosexual orientation. Yet a closer reading of the
passage with the Third Sex Theory in mind supercedes dichotomies of “good” and “bad,”
“desirable” and “undesirable,” and “male” and “female.” Hirschfeld does not portray the
homosexual soldier as an extreme—on the contrary. As the Third Sex Theory dictates, the
homosexual [soldier] is the mean between male and female polarities. Hirschfeld offers the
possibility of a new soldier: a soldier that not only is true to his comrades who are
countrymen, but who, regardless of nationality, suffers and sacrifices himself for the War; a
soldier who, out of love and obedience for his Fatherland, represses his fear of rejection by
his Fatherland and instead fights for it. It is perhaps for these reasons that “[h]omosexuelle
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Soldaten sind, ohne daß man ihre Eigenart erkennt, gewöhnlich bei Kameraden und
Vorgesetzten beliebt, ebenso homosexuelle Vorgesetzte bei den Mannschaften”
(Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 53). A volunteer soldier writes from Flanders that homosexual
soldiers are “[a]lles hübsche Menschenkinder, ernst und doch fröhlich, tapfer und doch nicht
ruhmredig, dienstbereit und kameradschaftlich, Menschen, die man lieben muß”
(Vierteljahrsberichte 16.1: 18).
Kameradschaft (camaraderie): this “glue” of homosocial bonds has been analyzed by
academics ranging from George Mosse and Klaus Theweleit in the seventies and eighties to
Berlin academics Ulrike Brunotte, Birgit Dahlke, and Andreas Pretzel in recent years. The
role that Kameradschaft plays in homosocial groups—be they Wandervogel or military units—
has been analyzed by said thinkers largely in terms of gender constructs: in terms of “protecting”
the Körperpanzer of the State and of the soldier: a virile, “masculine” nationalism, per Mosse; a
soldier who exhibits a masculinity that cannot be permeated by “feminine,” “fluid” dangers,
per Theweleit. Citing Hans Blüher, the first theoretician of the Wandervogel movement, Ulrike
Brunotte writes: “Blüher sprach als einer der ersten die tabuierte Wahrheit aus, das auch
mann-männliche Beziehungen und damit letztlich alle Bildungen des Staates (!) eine
libidinöse Basis haben. Im mann-männlichen Eros, der für Blüher nach platonischem
Vorbild mit einer ‘kosmisch-geistigen’ Qualität ausgezeichnet ist, konzentriere sich
überhaupt das ‘schöpferische Prinzip’ höherer Kulturentwicklung” (19). Thomas Kühne
adds: “Für das Verhältnis von Männlichkeit, Militär und Krieg in Deutschland hatte
Kameradschaft freilich deswegen eine besondere Bedeutung, weil diese ideologisch zunächst
relativ unverfängliche militärische Kategorie im Züge des Ersten Weltkrieges auf die
Zivilgesellschaft übertragen wurde und im staats-, gesellschafts- und geschlechterpolitischen
Diskurs eine eminente Wirkungsmacht entfaltete” (“. . . aus diesem Krieg” 176).
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While I certainly agree that Kameradschaft channels homosexual desire within the
homosocial networks of the military “Machine,” I believe that Kameradschaft should also be
examined in terms of aesthetics. How are intimate—if not sexual—male-male relationships to
be represented so that they produce in the reader empathy and not disgust? If this aesthetic
were a form of “positive” politics as I suggested earlier, then Kameradschaft should be
interpreted not only in terms of gender, but also in terms of aesthetics as another facet of the
soldierly mask worn by the homosexual.17 Much as his contemporaries did with homosexual
photography (see ch. 2), Hirschfeld also calls on Greek aesthetic tradition, portraying
homosexual relationships among soldiers as “heroic”: “Wie in den Zeiten antiken
Heldentums finden sich auch unter den Helden der Gegenwart Freundespaare, die, wie sie
vorher im Frieden treu zueinander standen, jetzt im Getümmel der Schlacht ihren
Freundschaftsbund besiegelt haben” (Vierteljahrsberichte Apr. 1915: 11). Hirschfeld is quick to
add, however, that unlike the fame enjoyed by male couples among heroes of old (such as
the Thebians), German soldiers who love each other must keep this fact to themselves. He
closes the passage by reminding the reader: “Und doch ist ‘die Liebesgenossenschaft’, die
Richard Wagner in seinem ‘Kunstwerk der Zukunft’ so enthusiastisch preist, ‘als Helferin in
der Schlacht’ nach ‘unverbrüchlichsten, naturnotwendigsten Seelengesetzen’ noch
keineswegs ausgestorben” (Vierteljahrsberichte Apr. 1915: 11). Much like the relationship
between Marinetti’s Futurist aesthetics and the concept of World War I as a Wagnerian
Gesamtkunstwerk, the modernist homosexual aesthetic played an important role in the
performance of Kameradschaft on the field.18
“Liebesgenossenschaft,” “Freundschaftsbund” (16)—“Kameradenliebe.” Hirschfeld
uses these terms interchangeably, weaving soldierly tradition, Classical Antiquity, and
aesthetics together to form a positive picture of the homosexual on the war front:
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Wie wohl in allen früheren Kriegen, ist auch in diesem der Kameradenliebe ein
weiter Spielraum gegeben. Das geht aus vielen mündlichen, schriftlichen und
gedruckten Berichten hervor. Dabei lassen sich drei Formen intimer
Kameradschaft voneinander unterscheiden: die bewußt erotische, die unbewußt
erotische und unerotische Kameradschaft. In ihren äußeren Kundgebungen sind
diese drei Gruppen sehr schwer von einander zu unterscheiden. Da ein
starker Geist der Zusammengehörigkeit fast alle draußen beseelt, und einer
auf den andern angewiesen ist, geselliger Frauenverkehr fast stets und
geschlechtlicher Vielfalt fehlt, fallen innige Männerbünde bei weitem nicht so
ins Auge wie daheim. (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 84)
By separating conscious, unconscious, and Platonic forms of camaraderie, it is as if
Hirschfeld were “queering” the soldierly mask and including all three forms of camaraderie
as acceptable, indeed, traditional forms of male-male relations on the war front. Certainly not
all comrades had sexual relations, and certainly some of those who did have sexual relations
did so merely out of sexual need than out of same-sex desire. Yet, Hirschfeld makes clear
that yes, there were also those relationships that were not just erotic, but also true love
relationships between male soldiers, “as there had been in all previous wars.”
To illustrate this point, Hirschfeld includes an example of “bewußt urnischer
Kameradenliebe” (conscious Uranian camaraderie) via an exchange of letters. The first, dated
April 24, 1915, is from an officer who has successfully enlisted his boyfriend as his orderly:
“[. . .] Sie können sich denken, daß wir beide hocherfreut waren, als meinem
Antrag stattgegeben wurde. So ist denn seit Ostern unser Wunsch erfüllt. Die
vordem sich Treue schwuren, sind bereit, jetzt als Offizier und Bursche auch
weiterhin zu bewähren und, wenn’s sein muß, mit dem Tode zu besiegeln.
Hoffentlich ist es uns vergönnt, recht bald die heimatlichen Fluren
wiederzuschauen.” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 84)
This passage enunciates not only just how easily the homosexual dons the soldierly mask,
but also how easily the homosexual relationship “that might be more easily noticed at home”
masks itself—consciously—with “conscious Uranian camaraderie.” Their oath to each other
takes on the aspect of the soldierly oath to one’s comrades and to one’s country. Just the
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same, it is rather unlikely that the two were very open with their “Uranian camaraderie”
based on Officer U.’s account.
Hirschfeld publishes a second letter dated June 3, 1915, in which the officer reports
that his boyfriend had been wounded but was now recovering well, and that the two were
doing fine. However, their story ends sadly. Hirschfeld reprints the officer’s obituary that
had been written by his boyfriend:
“Am 22. September starb in Chauny an den Folgen einer schweren
Verwundung mein geliebter Hauptmann und Kompagniechef Paul E. Es war
mir vergönnt, bis zur letzten Stunde bei ihm sein zu können. Nie werde ich
die treue Fürsorge vergessen, die mein Hauptmann stets für mich hatte. Sein
treuer Bursche Fritz F.” (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 84)
This obituary, although intimate, is not written with the same openness as the officer’s letters
to Hirschfeld. Here, the relationship between the two remains a soldierly relationship
between an officer and his devoted Bursche.
However, there are published accounts in which the “conscious Uranian
camaraderie” is presented for exactly what it is: an intimate, erotic relationship between two
male soldiers. Hirschfeld includes a report from the April 18, 1915 edition of the Kölnische
Zeitung:
“Man weiß: Dieses ist der modernste Krieg, der je geführt wurde. Aber
inmitten dieser letzten Kriegstechnik und Schlachtenweise werden antike
Sagen lebendig. Griechischer Geist weht durch Schützengraben in Rußland,
durch belgische Forts. Und Gestalten des Altertums schälen sich aus feldgrauen Uniformen. In unserer Kompagnie gab es zwei Freunde. Sie waren es
erst im Schützengraben geworden, zwei junge Kriegsfreiwillige, der eine ein
schon berühmter Geiger, der andere ein Student. Wundervoll war es, diese
Freundschaft mit zu erleben, die aus Blut, Gefahr und Entbehrung aufblühte.
Wie selten mußten diese Seelen sein, die solcher Zusammengehörigkeit fähig,
zu solchem Aufschwung beflügelt waren! Ich habe mitangesehen, welche
Heldenprobe diese Jünglingsliebe bestand. In einer stürmischen Nacht
wurden wir in unserm Graben überfallen. [. . .] Wir waren überrumpelt, und
die Granaten säten Schmerzen, Blut, Tod. Da sah ich wie dem Geiger die
Arme fortgerissen wurden. [ . . .] Sein Freund, der Student, stürzte zu ihm,
und die beiden sahen sich an. Einen Augenblick. Dann küßten sie sich, und
im nächsten hatte der Student den anderen ins Herz geschossen. [. . .] Dann
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sprang er aus dem Graben und fiel sofort. Acht Kugeln haben wir später an
seinem jungen Leib gezählt. Die Freunde kamen zusammen in ein Grab. Da
warten sie auf Homer. . . .” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2: 85-86)
Much like Ernst Jünger’s In Stahlgewittern, this soldier’s report makes war an aesthetic
experience. First, in its modernity and technology, this War likens a choreographed
performance, in which technological devices act as stage props and the soldiers as tragic
heroes. Second, this performance awakens legends and erotic camaraderie from Ancient
Greece—the author ties this War and its effects into the canon belli, to the revered war stories
of Ancient Greece. Finally, war is that mechanized, modern experience of nature in which
grenades are the “seeds” of “pain, blood, and death,” and in which [Uranian] camaraderie
“blooms forth” from “blood, danger, and want.” As in no other war that had come before,
this War “cultivates” camaraderie in its garden of woe. Not only does the author idealize this
War, but he also idealizes camaraderie—indeed, conscious Uranian camaraderie—by likening a
“heroic” friendship that he witnessed to that of two Grecian warriors. After first sealing their
union with a kiss, there is a theatrical grand pause (Zäsur): “Einen Augenblick.” The younger
soldier ends his comrade’s suffering with a shot to the heart and thereupon gives himself
freely to Death by jumping into enemy fire. With the author’s reference to Homer, not only
is the link between this camaraderie and Ancient Greece strengthened, but this camaraderie,
like these other legends, becomes eternal; truly, it becomes a work of art.
Indeed, this friendship exhibits the same “noble simplicity and silent greatness” as
those male-male friendships in Greek legends, namely that of Patroclus and Achilles. The
“friendship” between the two became an esteemed signifier of ideal Freundesliebe not only
between two men, but also between two soldiers. If one looks under “Kameradschafts-Ehen”
(“camaraderie-marriages”) in the subject index of Hirschfeld’s Homosexualität des Mannes und
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des Weibes and under “Patroklos” (“Patroclus”) in the index of names, one is referred to the
same quotation of historian F. G. Welcker:
Wir finden in dieser Erzählung die uralte Form der Liebeswerbung durch den
Raub [of Ganymede], wie er uns auf homosexuellen Gebiet später in Kreta
wieder begegnet. Deutlicher als diese nur kurzen Erwähnungen spricht für
das Vorkommen, ja für die Hochschätzung gleichgeschlechtlicher Liebe in
der Zeit des Entstehens der homerischen Dichtungen (9. bis 8. Jahrhundert
v. Chr.) die Schilderung des Verhältnisses zwischen A c h i l l e u s und
P a t r o k l o s. Zwar hat der Dichter sentimentale Schilderungen ihres
Liebesbundes durchweg vermieden, auch sind die beiden keineswegs als
einseitig homosexuell Fühlende dargestellt. [. . .] Aber doch bildet für ein
Drittel des ganzen Werkes, vom 16.-24. Buche, das Verhältnis zwischen den
beiden so sehr den Angelpunkt der ganzen Handlung, daß man mit H. Licht
den Schlußteil der I l i a s einen Hymnus auf die Männerfreundschaft nennen
darf. (747)
Discussing the “attische Sittencodex,” Hirschfeld makes clear that there were different
categories of male-male love. These categories ranged from the noble “Eromenoi” between
“den freiwillig und nur aus Zuneigung sich Hingebenden,” which the State did not condemn,
to the categories of “Hetairoi und Pornoi,” which were forms of prostitution that the State
forbade (Homosexualität 769). A contemporary scholar of Hirschfeld writes that the
relationship between Achilles and Patroclus was to be understood as “Eromenoi,” because
“so sei es für den Eromenos auch rühmlich, auf unverdorbene Weise geliebt zu werden. [. . .]
Denn wenn auch Homer das Verhältnis zwischen A c h i l l u s und P a t r o k l o s nicht
direckt Liebe nenne, so gehe doch aus allem deutlich hervor, daß der Eros die Wurzel ihrer
Freundschaft gewesen sei” (qtd. in Hirschfeld, Homosexualität 770).
This signifier of true love between soldiers would also find its place in the
homosexual aesthetic as the signifier of ideal male-male love, as evidenced in a passage from
the short story “Das Plauderstündchen”:
“Wie seltsam, daß wir aus dem Altertum soviele berühmte Freundespaare
kennen. Kastor und Pollux, Orestes und Pylades, Harmodius und
Aristogiton, Alexander und Perdiccas und — — —”
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“Achilles und Patroklos, von denen uns Homer erzählt” unterbrach
Kurt den Freund.
“Liest Du immer noch so viel im Homer, Ernesto?” fragte er nach
einer Pause.
“Es vergeht kein Tag, an dem ich ihn nicht zur Hande nehme”, war
die Antwort. “Homer ist wie die Natur. So oft man ihn durcheilt, man
entdeckt immer neue Schönheiten in seinen Gedichten. [. . .] Seine Götter
werden mir immer teurer und vertrauter. [. . .] [S]o oft ich den alten Homer
zur Hand nehme, denke ich mit Dankbarkeit und Liebe an jenen Mann, in
dessen Nähe ich so schöne, fruchtbringende Stunden verlebt habe.”
“Und wer von diesen Menschen Homers ist Dir am liebsten?” fragte
Kurt.
“Achill,” entgegnete Ernesto schnell. “Ich beneide ihn. Nicht weil er
Homer als Sänger seiner Tapferkeit gefunden hat, nein, weil er einen
Patroklos Freund nennen durfte.”
[. . .] “Und möchtest Du nicht selbst ein Achill sein? Fragte Kurt leise,
fast unbewußt. [. . .]”
“O nein, tönte Ernestos Stimme wie aus weiter Ferne an sein Ohr,
“ich könnte kein Achill sein. Höchstens ein Patroklos. Ein Achill müßte
aussehen — — —,” stockende näherte er sich dem Freunde, sodaß sein
Atem sein Gesicht umspielte.
“Wie müßte er aussehen?” Kurts Stimme bebte, als er diese Worte
sprach.
“Wie Du!”
Das brach den Bann!
Denn hingerissen von der Gewalt des Augenblickes bedeckte Ernesto
seine Augen mit den Händen und barg seinen schönen Kopf an der Brust
des Freundes, der ihn mit einem unterdrückten Jubelrufe an sich zog und
umarmte. (Fuchs 348-49).
Achilles and Patroclus signified almost a holy unity that was sought by many lonely
homosexual males, both in times of peace and in times of war. On the war front, such
friendships were not only recognized for their special nature, but also respected by some of
the heterosexual comrades.
Genre Four: “Stark feminine Komponente”—“Die Zurückgebliebenen”
Despite the Third Sex Theory and a tripartite definition of camaraderie that legitimizes
same-sex relationships on the war and home fronts, it cannot be overlooked that
Hirschfeld’s Third Sex model relied on the gender polarities of “male” and “female.” While
on the one hand, this Theory was emancipative with its “both [. . .] and [. . .]” logic, it also
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propagated the concept of “neither [. . .] nor [. . .]”—this led to a further exclusion of the
[effeminate] homosexual as an anomaly. This was especially the case for those male
homosexuals who were “too feminine” or for those female homosexuals who were “too
masculine.” In one letter, a homosexual soldier assures Hirschfeld that “weibisch bin ich also
keinesfalls” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3: 115). Even for Hirschfeld and for the soldiers,
“feminine” males would be a threat not only to the military Machine, but to themselves as
well:19
Allerdings soll nicht verschwiegen werden, daß gerade unter den femininen,
sensitiveren Homosexuellen sich nicht wenige befinden, deren zartes
Nervensystem sich dem Ernstfall nicht völlig gewachsen zeigt. Wir haben
mehr als einen gesehen, der unter den Schrecken sausender Granaten und
beim Anblick der Leichenhaufen von Freund und Feind, wenn auch
vorübergehend, so doch für geraume Zeit das seelische Gleichgewicht verlor.
For Hirschfeld, the effeminate homosexual’s “handicap” of a “sensitive nervous system”
is—like the homosexual’s sexuality itself—an inborn quality. As such, it prevents the
effeminate homosexual from successfully serving on the field. The following account that
had been sent to Hirschfeld serves as an example:
“Der arme R. N. weilt eben hier. Tragisches Geschick! Der sehr weiblichweichherzige Mensch kam in die Lage, einen Kosaken, den er v e r w u n d e t hatte, auf höheren Befehl [. . .] erschießen zu müssen. [. . .] In der
ersten Zeit glaubte R.N., das Schreckliche überwinden zu können; als aber
etwas Ruhe im Dienst eintrat, wurde er gemütskrank. Weinkrämpfe – nachts
Schreikrämpfe. Mußte in eine Lazarett-Abteilung für Nervenkranke. [. . .] Er
hat jetzt noch Erholungsurlaub erhalten, wird aber wahrscheinlich ganz aus
dem Militärdienst entlassen werden. Der Stabsarzt bezeichnet seinen jetzigen
Zustand als schwere Hysterie.[. . .]” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3 118-19)
Whereas most physicians spoke of Trauma when diagnosing soldiers who had severe
psychological consequences from serving in war,20 Hirschfeld diagnoses this soldier’s
condition as the feminine trauma of hysteria. When considering the climate of the times, it
becomes clearer as to why Hirschfeld might be so preoccupied with the dangers of a male’s
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“sensitive nervous system” (i.e., feminine constitution) on the battlefield. Thomas Kühne
writes:
Der Zulauf der Pfadfinderorganisationen (die aus männlichen Kindern
“echte” Männer zu machen versprachen), die Attraktivität des Footballs und
Baseballs, die Idolfunktion Theodore Roosevelts, das Come-Back des
Cowboys als männlicher Leitfigur, nicht zuletzt die begeisterte Teilnahme am
Ersten Weltkrieg in eben dieser Zeit wurden als Ausdruck der Furcht vor der
und “Verweichlichung” der Kultur gedeutet
“Verweiblichung”
(“Männergeschichte” 11).
Taken in the greater, international cultural context of the period before and during World
War I, Hirschfeld is one among many who are trying to safeguard the ideal of masculinity.
While maintaining the contours of masculinity, Hirschfeld his best to include the
homosexual within its boundaries. In order to legitimize homosexuals, Hirschfeld must
utilize socially sanctioned gender constructs. In doing so, it is as if he were taking two steps
forward and one step back: homosexual soldiers are brave, their intimate relationships on the
field are born out of “blood and pain,” in a word, they are masculine; homosexuals who
remain on the home front are, due to their effeminate nature, incapable of fighting on the
field. Not only does Hirschfeld differentiate between masculine and feminine homosexuals
according to accepted gender constructs; he also assigns homosexuals to accepted gendered
spheres. The masculine homosexual’s sphere is the public sphere in which he successfully
wears his soldierly mask or mask of masculinity. The effeminate homosexual’s sphere—as in
Berlins Drittes Geschlecht—is the female sphere, i.e., the private sphere of the home. Again,
Hirschfeld sub-categorizes homosexuals according to their (in)ability to serve:
Wir haben allerdings bereits früher darauf aufmerksam gemacht, daß gewisse
Elemente unter den Homosexuellen zum aktiven Kriegesdienst weniger
geeignet sind oder unfreiwillig in Fortfall kommen. Es sind dies die stark
femininen Urninge, unter ihnen besonders die transvestitischen – wenngleich
auch diese keineswegs vollzählig – , zweitens diejenigen, bei denen, sei es
infolge, sei es in Kongruenz mit ihrer Sexualanlage, schwerer neuro- oder
psychopatische Störungen vorhanden sind [. . .]. Die dritte Gruppe sind
diejenigen, die sehr gern dienen würden, auf deren Dienste man aber, weil
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ihre Homosexualität früher einmal gerichtskundig oder sonst unliebsam
bekannt geworden ist, Verzicht leistet. (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 52)
The three variations of the homosexual range from the homosexual whose gender
performance is completely feminine (a “spiritual” feminine orientation), to the homosexual
whose biological determination is feminine (“weak nerves”), to the homosexual who is set
apart from heterosexuals by their violation of § 175. Thus, there are varying gender
constructions to which individual homosexuals are assigned—largely due to political reasons.
As historian Thomas Kühne explains, “Geschlecht ist eine politische Kategorie nicht nur
durch den hierarchischen Gegensatz zwischen Männern und Frauen, sondern auch durch die
konfliktträchtige Rivalität verschiedener Männlichkeits- (oder auch: Weiblichkeits-)
Vorstellungen – in einer Zeit, in einer Gesellschaft, in einem Mann” (“Männergeschichte”
19).
Accordingly, Hirschfeld’s roles are divided: First, Hirschfeld is that medical physician
who argues for the recognition of feminine homosexuals (both in “spirit” and in biological
nature) who, although pathological, are a natural occurrence. As discussed in the first
chapter, Hirschfeld argues that such persons must be recognized by the law and cannot be
declared criminal due to their “natural” hermaphroditic composition. Second, he is that
medical physician who offers and legitimizes credible testimony of homosexuals who are
made of such manly stuff, but who are restricted from military service due to § 175. Both
arguments serve to illustrate the fallacy that is § 175. He continues to say that
[. . .] die Homosexuellen körperlich meist sehr gesund und wohlgestaltet sind.
Homosexuelle Krüppel oder mit chronischen Gebrechen behafteten sind
ungemein selten, auch äußeren Schädigungen sind sie wegen einer gewissen
Behutsamkeit im zivilen Leben weniger ausgesetzt, so daß alles in allem der
Prozentsatz
der
Diensttauglichen
unter
Homosexuellen
und
Nichthomosexuellen gleich sein dürfte. (Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 53)
129
Hirschfeld argues that homosexual men—just like heterosexual men—tend to be healthy. He
very consciously includes this normative statement to support his argument that homosexuals
are indeed valuable citizens in the German Reich.
We have heard of and from those homosexual soldiers who have served on the
front—but what of those who, due to a “feminine nature” or “weak nerves,” are not “able”
to serve? Hirschfeld describes the varying reactions of homosexuals to the war:
Im übrigen waren die Empfindungen, mit denen sich die Uranier in den
Dienst des Vaterlandes stellten, sehr verschieden. [. . .] Da kamen die
Begeisterten, von Kampfesfreude und innerer Gehobenheit völlig
Berauschten, die Pflichteifrigen und Pflichttreuen, die Hilfsbereiten, die
unentwegt Kriegzuversichtlichen, aber auch die Versorgten und Verzagten
fehlten nicht, deren stark feminine Komponente oder nervöse Konstitution
sich den strengen Anforderung der Manneszucht nicht gewachsen glaubte,
die fürchteten zu versagen, wenn es hieß, dem Engländer oder dem
Franzosen das Bajonett ins jugendliche Herz zu bohren. (Vierteljahrsberichte
15.2: 60)
The collective homosexual sentiment is pro-war; these individuals are portrayed as a whole that
wants to serve the Fatherland. This same statement stresses the homosexual’s patriotism that
is a component of their bourgeois respectability. However, this “collective” is comprised of
two gendered spheres. Those homosexuals, who are enthusiastic, who are intoxicated by the
desire to serve, who know their sense of duty and honor, are the otherwise ideal soldiers for
the Reich, were it not for the Reich’s intolerance of homosexuality (signified by § 175). In
spite of their homosexuality, these homosexuals are otherwise “normal”—here, not only
healthy, but masculine. In contrast, those homosexuals who, due to their biological and
cultural “construction” and who exhibit “strong feminine components” or a “nervous
constitution” not only comprise the feminine sphere, but also are not suitable for combat.
Despite a progressive Third Sex Theory, these homosexuals are “too feminine.” This
feminine component equals an abnormal component—which, in medical and sociological
terms of the day, translates to a nervous, unhealthy orientation. This impulse to
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subcategorize such individuals comes not only from external forces; it is also an internal,
self-disciplining force. These homosexuals know of themselves that they are not “man
enough” to fulfill the “soldierly duty” of plunging a bayonet into enemy soldiers.21
Hirschfeld includes a letter from a Uranier (Uranian) as an example of those who
“[. . .] darunter leiden, daß sie nicht mit hinausziehen dürfen [. . .]” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3:
117):
(3. IX. 1915.) “Mit recht großem Interesse habe ich Ihren Vierteljahrsbericht
gelesen, in welchem ich auch mehrere Gedichte unserer tapferen Feldgrauen
fand. Wie Ihnen ja bekannt ist, habe auch ich einst zwei Jahre beim InfantrieRegiment Nr. 48 in Cüstrin gedient. Leider ist es mir nicht vergönnt, mit ins
Feld hinauszuziehen, denn ich habe infolge unglücklicher homosexueller
Liebe einen Selbstmordversuch verübt; eine Revolverkugel durchschlug
meine linke Brust, und ich lag hoffnungslos darnieder, wurde dann, als ich
körperlich wiederhergestellt war, einer Nervenheilanstalt überwiesen und
infolge meines Leidens in den Listen des Heeres gestrichen.”
Although it is not clear if this soldier exhibits “strong feminine traits,” it is clear that he
belongs to the “feminine” sphere, and that he arrived there for two reasons. Originally, the
soldier was part of the military “Machine” in Regiment 48. First, the soldier loses his
soldierly honor by disgracing himself—and his regiment—with his attempted suicide.
Indeed, the behavior of this male is abnormal and unhealthy—in “gendered” terms,
feminine—and this must be corrected. After the body is healed, then the psyche must be
healed, and the soldier finds himself in a mental institution—the second “means” by which
the soldier is relegated to the feminine sphere. By tracing his case backwards, it can be
established post facto that this suicide attempt was not only the result of an ill-fated
homosexual relationship, but also the result of a nervous—i.e., feminine—constitution. He is
quite literally eliminated from the military “Machine”; his name is stricken from the list of
soldiers in the regiment.
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In this letter the soldier requests Hirschfeld to publish a poem that he has written in
dedication of his former “Lion Regiment,” Regiment 48. With this request, the soldier also
addresses the exclusion of homosexuals—within the military and within the Fatherland—
due to § 175, “[. . .] denn auch in mir, dem Daheimgebliebenen, wühlt ein Tatendrang, und
da ich nicht mitkämpfen kann, will ich mich auf diese Weise dem Vaterlande dankbar
erweisen und tue dies in der festen Hoffnung, daß unser Vaterland nach dem Kriege auch
die homosexuellen Männer schützen wird [. . .]” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3: 116). In the second
stanza, he describes his situation as “one who has stayed home”:
Ich bin daheim geblieben, weil Leib und Seele krank,
Und doch, wie gerne kämpft’ ich für Ehr’ und Vaterland;
Statt dessen muß ich hocken im Hause, wo’s so bang,
Doch meine kranke Seele erfreut stets der Gesang:
Das ist mein stolzes, kühnes, [das wohl jeder kennt,
Das sind die Achtundvierziger, das Löwenregiment]. (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.3:
117)
The soldier’s sense of honor and patriotism are not diminished. This (self-)portrayal reduces
the soldier to an object of pity, sick and excluded not only due to his homosexuality, but also
due to his feminine, weak nerves. This exclusion of the “nervous” soldier—both from
external and internal forces—causes the soldier to feel shame due to his “effeminate”
condition.
The aforementioned soldier is not the only one who experiences this shame; in an
earlier issue of the Vierteljahrsberichte, Hirschfeld had included another such letter. The shame
of the author, Rudolf Horn, is part of the collective shame that is brought about by one’s
biological nature as a homosexual and one’s outsider status due to § 175. Horn expresses this
in his poem “Die Zurückgebliebenen”:
Geduldig warten wir wochenlang,
Daß man uns einberufe.
Wir hören der Glocken frohlockenden Klang,
Wir hören der jungen Krieger Gesang
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Und den klappernden Schall der Hufe –
Und warten!
Unsere Brüder bluteten längst schon im Feld
Aus tausend bitteren Wunden!
Manch Knabe ward im Kriege zum Held!
Manch Grab ward im fremden Lande bestellt –
Für Tapfre, die heimgefunden!
Wir warten!
Kaum wagen wir auf die Straße zu gehen,
Uns drückt es wie Schmach und Schande. –
Verwunderte Augen nach uns sehn.
Und würden unseren Mann doch stehn
Wie die andern im Feindeslande.
Wir warten! (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2: 61)
Here we see the gendering both of the soldier who fights on the field and of the civilian—
homo- or heterosexual male—who remains at home. This gendering is again based on
private and public spheres; however, these spheres not only are denoted by “home” and
“professional” lives as in peacetime, but also by domestic and foreign (enemy) territory. The
first stanza enunciates the author’s frustration at not being able—or permitted—to serve.
The narrative voice is not the standard “ich,” but the collective “wir”: “we,” the Others, those
who have stayed in the feminine sphere of Home. Forced to simply “wait” passively at
home, these Zurückgebliebenen hear their brothers’—the soldiers’—cry from afar, from the
masculine sphere of foreign territory, the war front. The author takes care to stress the
Others’ collective desire to go out and fight and to become “real men”: indeed, war is a
masculine rite of passage—“[m]anch Knabe ward im Kriege zum Held!” Because it has been
determined by persons including Hirschfeld that those who have stayed home are unable to
withstand “den strengen Anforderung der Manneszucht” (cf. p. 128), this passage to manhood is
denied to them simply due to a “gendered topography.”
Not only are these men restricted from the masculine sphere of the war front, but
they are also restricted to the home within civilian society. In this time of war, their mere
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presence on the street (traditionally the masculine sphere in peace time) marks them as
Outsiders. If real men have “long laid bleeding on the field,” these men on the home front
are not “real men,” are not normal, and who, due to their location, cannot even mask
themselves with the mask of masculinity. As a man who has remained behind on the home
front, Herr Horn and others like him do not even dare to be seen in public. They feel the
pressure of public disgrace—again, an external disciplinary force—that reminds them that as
men in wartime, they should be elsewhere—“like the others in enemy territory.” However,
Herr Horn soon finds himself among the “real men”: “Gar nicht lange hat der Verfasser
warten müssen, dann ist auch er hinausgezogen und befindet sich auf dem östlichen
Kampfplatz” (Hirschfeld, Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2: 61).
Genre Five: “Möge uns bald ein gesundes Wiedersehen in der Heimat beschieden sein”
In many cases, those male homosexuals who remained behind on the home front had a
partner who had gone off to war. Linking the two individuals as well as the “masculine” and
“feminine” spheres of war and home fronts were letters. Hirschfeld’s inclusion of such
letters not only served as accounts from day-to-day life for homosexuals at the home and
war fronts. These letters also normalized such male-male relationships. Such men might
represent the Third Sex, but even as such, their “image” is constructed according to the
accepted gender polarity of the time. In addition, Hirschfeld presents such letters in the
fashion of an epistolary novel, keeping his commentary to a minimum and allowing the
letters to “speak” for themselves. In one exchange of letters, the man who remains at home
writes Hirschfeld and encloses two letters from his friend on the front. The author describes
the effect that § 175 has had on their relationship:
“Wir haben uns innig geliebt, ja fast gegenseitig verehrt, der eine um des
andern vermeintlicher Vollkommenheit wegen. Wir haben uns niemals auch
nur geküßt, und dennoch habe ich das bestimmte Gefühl, nie in meinem
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Leben tiefer geliebt worden zu sein als von diesem meinem Freunde. [. . .] Er
hat noch niemals in seinem Leben geschlechtlichen Verkehr gehabt. Normal
zu lieben, widerstand seiner Natur und seiner Natur zu folgen, brachte er mit
seiner Auffassung, welche er bisher von diesem Naturtriebe hatte, ohne das
Gefühl ein Unrecht zu begehen, nicht über sich. So hatte er sich unter
harten, sehr harten Kämpfen überwunden zur Askese.” (Vierteljahrsberichte
15.2: 66)
The author describes this homosexual relationship in terms of a Platonic Freundschaft that
was common among men of letters in German Classicism and German Romanticism. On
the one hand, this friendship is described in aesthetic terms: the two friends have an intimate
bond and admire each other for their individual Vollkommenheit (completion), almost as if the
two men were individual works of art. This Freundschaft remains “pure,” as there has been no
physical contact—the two have not even kissed. Adding to the “purity” of the relationship is
the fact that the author’s friend is still a virgin. On the other hand, the author identifies this
relationship—or at least his friend—as something other than normal. To love a woman, is
against the friend’s nature. This statement is in keeping with Hirschfeld’s theory that
homosexuality might not be normal in society, but it is certainly a natural occurrence. The
friend—in his intimate, albeit Platonic relationship with the author—is only acting upon his
natural drive. Although the relationship is but a kiss away from being a criminal offense, the
friend, despite some initial struggle, does not have the feeling that he is committing an
offense—in contrast to what § 175 would state. The author continues to say that the two
had known each other for three years, and that one year ago, he “‘[. . .] den Wert einer
solchen reinen Liebe voll erkannt, und in diesem Sinne ist er seit einem Jahre mein einzigster
Freund’” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2: 66). However, the relationship would soon be in jeopardy:
“‘Vier Monate vor dem Kriege entfremdeten wir uns durch ein Mißverständnis, wodurch
unserer gegenseitigen absoluten Hochachtung der Boden genommen wurde. Dieses
Mißverständnis klärte sich zu Beginn des Krieges auf, und somit näherten wir uns erst im
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Kriege einander wieder” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2: 66-67). The two would reconcile and come
closer through the act of writing: letters would become the bridge that would close the gap
between homosexuals on the masculine, war front and the feminine, home front. Not only
letters, but packages from loved ones as well as from strangers were sent to the homosexual
soldier as a surrogate “Strom mütterlichen Empfindens” (Theweleit 1: 176; cf. p. 108) usually
denied the soldier. One soldier describes the letters received from his friend on the home
front:
“(20. IV. 1915.) [. . .] Schon Deine endlich eingetroffenen Briefe machten
mich sehr anders als die letzten Tage. Ich feierte das Ereignis mit einer
großen Konserve und einem Fläschchen Cognac, und zum Dank für die
hintereinander gekommenen Briefe sollst Du noch einen Bogen Besuch
bekommen. M e r k w ü r d i g, w a s s o e i n S t ü c k P a p i e r d e n
M e n s c h e n ä n d e r n k a n n . Dreimal, viermal las ich Deine Briefe
und ich könnte sie immer wieder lesen. Dir geht es ‘halbwegs’; Kopf hoch,
wir müssen, müssen durchhalten. [. . .] Schreibe mir, wann immer Du willst;
weißt Du doch, wie glücklich Deine Briefe machen.” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2:
70)
Truly, these letters between the soldier and his friend serve as “visits” with one another. The
letter signifies not only the author’s feelings and impressions of the soldier, but also the
author himself.
In an earlier letter, another soldier remarks that letters—and language itself—are
inadequate vessels to contain his feelings about the war; however, letters do provide that
unique opportunity for the two to come together:
(23. II. 15.) “Ich erhielt Dein liebes Paket und danke Dir für Deine Zeilen. [. .
.] Kein Mensch kann meine Gefühle und die gewaltigen Eindrücke, die der
Krieg hervorruft, mit mir teilen. Wie gern würde ich sie Dir mitteilen, aber
sei versichert, man kann sie nicht in Worte fassen. Wir beide sind nicht
gewohnt, unsern Gefühlen durch Worte Ausdruck zu geben, wir empfinden
gemeinsam, und das bildet den Wert unserer Freundschaft. [. . .] Du bist mir
nicht fremd, sondern nahe. So sehe ich beim Schreiben dieses Briefes Dich
im Geiste, und es ist mir, als ob ich mit Dir spreche.” (Vierteljahrsberichte 15.2:
72)
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Hirschfeld’s elegant layout of such intimate letters adds to the “respectable aesthetics” of
such relationships. Such love letters were part of an established literary tradition that was not
only born out of war, but also was common to many wars.22
1929 was the ten-year anniversary of the end of World War I, and as such,
remembrance of the war played a large part in artistic and literary production in Germany (cf
Wiesner). This remembrance shaped creative production and therewith the modernist
homosexual aesthetic among homosexual artistic circles, as discussed in ch. 2 in connection
with photographs in the homosexual journals Der Eigene and Die Insel. The motifs mentioned
above—including reconciled loves, thankfulness for packages from home, longing for one’s
beloved, and the homosexual’s ambivalent stance to the Fatherland due to § 175—are
themes that would be taken up in Bruno Vogel’s 1929 novel, Alf.
“Freiwillig gemeldet in diese Hölle von Flandern!”:
“War” and “Self-Determination” in Bruno Vogel’s Epistolary Novel Alf (1929)
The name “Bruno Vogel” might not be familiar for many Germanists, but for historians
who have concerned themselves with Magnus Hirschfeld and the homosexual subculture of
the Weimar Republic, this name ranks among the likes of Robert Musil, Ernst Toller, and
Klaus Mann.23 Vogel lived from 1898 to 1987, having emigrated to London after World War
II. Bruno Vogel is unique in that he not only was active within the elitist male artistic circle
of Der Eigene—but was also a member of the board of directors of the WhK (Wissenschaftlichhumanitäres Komitee) (Scientific-Humanitarian Committee) from 1929 to 1931. From 1897 to
1929, Hirschfeld had headed this Committee; the same Committee that published the
Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen. In addition to the pacifist novels that made him famous in
the homosexual subculture, Vogel wrote extensively as a reviewer for both Brand’s Der
Eigene and Hirschfeld’s Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen.24 Vogel and his works—most
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notably the novel Alf—mark an intersection of homosexual aesthetic and political traditions
of the time (as discussed in ch. 2) that were shaped largely by Brand and Hirschfeld
respectively.
Although it is actually the final chapter of the novel that is the focus of this study, a
discussion of the literary strategies (levels) with which the initial chapters operate is
necessary. This should provide further insight into contemporary issues regarding male
sexuality, father-son (generational) conflict, and masculinity itself. Like the narrative of the
novel, the general issue of “Mann-Sein” is described by Thomas Kühne as “ [. . .] nicht nur
in diachroner Perspektive fragil, sondern auch in synchroner Hinsicht. Leitbilder von
Männlichkeit stehen in einem mehr oder weniger starken, latenten oder manifesten
Spannungsverhältnis zur subjektiven Erfahrung des Mann-Seins, zur männlichen Identität,
zur sozialen Praxis, zur Produktion und Reproduktion von Geschlechterbeziehungen
Like Father, Like Son?: Alf as Familienroman
A superficial reading of Bruno Vogel’s Alf might tempt the reader to label the work as a
piece of trivial literature that offers an interesting homosexual twist. The novel is divided
into subsections, each with its own title. Vogel begins the story with “Begegnung,” the
encounter of Felix Braun and Alf Maartens, which actually occurs later in the story. In
“Felix,”25 the reader is introduced to the main character, Felix Braun, who is a misfit and an
unwanted child raised in a troubled family. The literary moment of conception literally
begins with Felix’s (unwanted) moment of conception:
Wie sehr viele Menschen verdankte auch Felix sein Leben den leider noch
bestehenden technischen Unzulänglichkeiten eines in erster Linie
Ceylongummi verarbeitenden Industriezweigs.
138
“Verdammt noch einmal!” knurrte der Vater nervös, als er den
winzigen Riß feststellen mußte, und die Mutter flüsterte geängstigt: “Um
Gottes willen, Willy, es wird doch nichts passiert sein!?”
Es war aber etwas passiert.
Und sie fanden niemanden, der ihnen geholfen hätte. (21)
Herr Braun is a distant, violent figure whose job as Gerichtsaktuar eventually takes his family
from Dresden to Leipzig. Frau Braun, née Hruby, was “[. . .] nicht nur arm wie eine
Kirchenmaus aus dem Sprichwort, sondern obendrein noch eine Tschechische” (21). Her
relationship to her son is ambivalent at best: often chastising Felix when he is a child, she
later cries often, calling her son a “failure” and “distant.” Not only does Felix not get along
with this younger sisters Ilse and Erika—“[. . .] mit [ihnen] hat Felix sich nie vertragen” (5758)—the two sisters never speak within the text. Childhood relationships with his Czech
friend Václav and playground bully Kurt were marked with tears of longing on the one hand
(39) and “erotische Wucht” (61) on the other.
In “Es,” such suggestions of Felix’s homosexuality are interwoven with a typical
teenage sexual maturation story from Felix’s years at the Gymnasium in Dresden: as a young
boy, he had learned the story of the stork from his mother, here he learns the truth about
heterosexual intercourse at school from a fellow male student who “did it”; after first
torturing himself with a moral abstinence from masturbation after it is condemned by the
Religion teacher at the Gymnasium, he then learns from Herr Brugkhein, an enlightened
neighbor and father of classmate Jan,26 that masturbation does not cause blindness and is
practiced by virtually everyone. “Felix schrie fast: ‘A l l e g e s u n d e n M e n s c h e n ?!?’
– –” (111). Felix’s source of modern sexual education is cut off when his father commands:
“Zu den Leuten gehst du nicht! [. . .] Ich wünsche das nicht, und du gehst nicht hin, basta.
Und laß dich nicht erwischen, daß du hinter meinem Rücken hingehst [. . .]!” (118). Shortly
thereafter, the Braun family moves to Leipzig.
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The chapter “Alf” begins where “Begegnung” had left off: during Felix’s first day at
the Gymnasium in Leipzig. Felix Braun is assigned to sit next to Alf Maartens in class:
Felix gefiel es auch besser hier als in Dresden. Er saß neben Alf Maartens.
Oft berührten ihre Knie einander.
Sehr schöne Hände hatte Alf.
Und seine Augen waren gut. Wie Musik in der Dämmerung.
Zusammen mit Alf war alles viel leichter. Auch die Schule. (132)
It does not take long for the friends’ intimate relationship to become sexual. One evening
Alf’s parents go to the movies and leave the two alone in the house. In Alf’s room, their
attention strays from their homework to each other:
“Alf, was ist eigentlich Liebe…”
Alf antwortete bald:
“Ach, das ist ganz einfach: Liebe ist der Wille, dem anderen Gutes zu tun.”
Scheu, ganz sacht streichelte Felix seinem Alf übers Haar.
Alf Maartens sagte:
“Du, ich hab dich lieb.”
Und er packte Felix und küßte ihn auf den Mund . . . . . .
Gewaltiges Erleben tiefster phallischer Lust! (153)
Felix Braun and Alf Maartens live in a state of bliss and the two are not to be separated. This
changes in “Das Netz,” when Felix comes across “etwas Juristisches” (163) in a second-hand
book store:
Eine Broschüre in grünem Umschlag geriet ihm in die Hände, in fetten
Lettern stand darauf: § 175.
Das war etwas Juristisches – Paragraphen waren ihm so zuwider,
schon, weil sein Vater immer damit zu tun hatte – Felix wollte gerade die
Schwarte aus der Hand legen . . .
. . . da sah der Antiquar von seinem Pult, wo er schrieb, auf.
Und sagte, “Das ist nichts für Sie.” (162-63)
The adult’s remark only made the “forbidden” pamphlet all the more interesting for the
teenage boy:
Aber natürlich interessierte ihn nun kein Buch des ganzen Ladens so sehr wie
jenes grüne Heft: Da war wieder einmal etwas nichts für ihn! Keine Angst, er
würde sehr bald wissen, was da wieder dahintersteckte.
140
Er suchte sich ein riesiges Lexikon, schmuggelte die grüne Broschüre
hinein und las.
Las, daß Alf und er Sittlichkeitsverbrecher waren. Daß ein Paragraph
175 des Reichsstrafgesetzbuchs ihre Liebe zueinander mit Gefängnis bis zu
fünf Jahren bedrohte. (163-64)
Although Alf is waiting for Felix at the school, Felix never arrives. Well past midnight,
Felix’s angry father awaits Felix as Felix returns home:
Doch wie er oben mit gezücktem Rohrstock vor seinem Sohn stand, um ihm
eine Portion ‘gerechte Strafe’ zu verabreichen, und ihn ansah, da legte er den
Stock wieder weg und fragte: “Was ist denn mit dir los? Bist du krank?”
Felix gab keine Antwort.
“Ist dir was passiert? Was siehst du mich denn so an? Bist du krank?
So rede doch, Junge!”
“Schlag doch, Vater!” sagte Felix.
Hilflos und unentschieden sah ihn der Vater ein paar Sekunden an, er
machte ein matte Bewegung mit der Hand, als wollte er seinem Jungen lieb
über den Kopf streichen – aber dann ging er aus dem Zimmer. (165)
Herr Braun’s repeated question, “Bist du krank?” recalls the societal “diagnosis” of Felix’s
love for Alf, and his helplessness in the face of the situation exposes the fragile, uncertain
nature not just of Herr Braun’s masculinity, but of masculinity in general. As the story line
develops, so does the novel’s complexity. Vogel not only tells the story of one boy’s coming
of age—he also does this in the greater cultural context of the time. Vogel portrays the
contemporary interest in (and lack of) effective birth control (the torn condom), the debate
over abortion vis-à-vis § 218 when the Brauns had “no one to help them” with the unwanted
pregnancy, the naïve and hypocritical morality of parents and school teachers when it comes
to sex education á la Wedekind some thirty years earlier,27 the real threat of § 175 to
homosexuals, and the crisis of sexuality and masculinity before, during, and after World War
I in Germany as discussed by Hirschfeld and his contemporaries. Keilson-Lauritz writes that
“[r]und um den kleinen Roman ‘Alf’ von Bruno Vogel arrangiert Kurt Hiller Anfang 1930
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[die erwähnte] Diskussion und erteilt ein Lob im Hinblick auf den ‘Radikalismus der
Sexualphilosophie’ und den ganz explizit so genannten ‘erotisch-politischen Gehalt’” (237).28
From the beginning of the novel through to Felix’s awful epiphany regarding § 175,
the novel functions on two levels. It is the story of the coming-of-age of Felix Braun in the
context of the pre-World War I German bourgeois family. Freud offers the following
analysis of this familial context:
Unter den sexuellen Phantasien der Pubertät ragen einige hervor, welche
durch allgemeinstes Vorkommen und weitgehende Unabhängigkeit vom
Erleben des Einzelnen ausgezeichnet sind. So die Phantasien von der
Belauschung des elterlichen Geschlechtsverkehrs, von der frühen
Verführung durch geliebte Personen, von der Kastrationsdrohung, die
Mutterleibsphantasien, deren Inhalt Verweilen und selbst Erlebnisse im
Mutterleib sind, und der sogenannten ‘Familienroman’, in welchem der
Heranwachsende auf den Unterschied seiner Einstellung zu den Eltern jetzt
und in der Kindheit reagiert. (“Drei Abhandlungen” 127, footnote 2).
I would suggest that Alf by and large fits the psychological definition of the “family novel,”
also called the “family romance” by Elisabeth Bronfen, where the parents’ sexuality in effect
sexes the family and determines the sexual development and self-construction of the
individual family members. Truly, the section “Felix” is literally and figuratively “sexed” by
Herr and Frau Braun, who have just had sexual intercourse when the section opens. Felix as
a “result” of this sexual act—determined by the father to be “unwanted”—will be a motif
that signifies Felix not just as an unwanted son, but also as a son with an unwanted sexuality.
Alf not only fits the psychological definition of the Familienroman, but also Walter Erhart’s
literary definition of the Familienroman as
[. . .] ein Ensemble unterschiedlicher Familiengeschichten [. . .], und die
Praxis der Männlichkeit definiert sich ebenso an der spezifischen Form, wie
sie in der Kontinuität von Familien, an der Grenze von Privatheit und
Öffentlichkeit, zwischen Eltern und Kindern, Männern und Frauen, Vätern
und Söhnen jeweils neu ausgehandelt und konstruiert wird. (9)
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Alf belongs to those contemporary literary and sociological works such as the Jahrbuch für
sexuelle Zwischenstufen that are culturally critical of families, of the interaction of family
members, and how patriarchal sexuality determines this interaction. How do families produce
men? How is masculinity conceived, constructed, passed on from father to son? From man to
man? From soldier to soldier?
“Das Netz” at Home and at War: Alf as “männliches Narrativ”
These questions lead us to the second literary level on which the novel functions. Alf is not
just a “Männlichkeitsnarrativ” in the sense of a narrative concerning a young male’s coming-ofage, but it also exhibits a “männliches Narrativ”—a narrative that is itself patriarchal,
authoritarian, “masculine.”29 Via the father figure of Herr Braun, Vogel constructs a doublesided father-son relationship. First, there is the psychological father-son struggle that
represents a greater generational struggle at the time of World War I. Just as Herr Braun is
the “voice” of authority in the private sphere that disciplines his son Felix, Herr Braun—in his
position as Gerichtsaktuar—is that patriarchal “voice” of authority in the public sphere that trains
Felix Braun to discipline himself. Both parents shelter Felix from the “truth” about sex, but
it is Herr Braun who literally and figuratively stands in the way of Felix’s sex education.
When his mother screams while giving birth to sister Ilse behind the locked bedroom door,
Felix panics and screams for help: “[. . .] – nach einer Weile kam der Vater herein: ‘Dummer
Flegel! Hältst du’s Maul!’ und verabreichte ihm eine Ohrfeige – schloß die Tür hinter sich
wieder zu – Was machen sie bloß mit seiner Mutter! [. . .]’” (55). The door to the “truth”—
the parents’ bedroom, the “sexed space” of the apartment—remains closed to Felix.
Despite Herr Braun’s attempt to discipline his son, Felix is educated by others and
educates himself in sexual matters. These not only include masturbation and heterosexual
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intercourse, as with “normal” boys, but also homosexuality. It is at this point that the State’s
law—“etwas Juristisches”—the father’s public realm—“convenes” to discipline Felix’s
“errant” sexuality:
In der Morgendämmerung schlich Felix ins Wohnzimmer, suchte auf dem
Buchgestell des Vaters – da war es: Strafgesetzbuch für das Deutsche Reich.
“. . . ist mit Gefängnis zu bestrafen; auch kann auf Verlust der
bürgerlichen Ehrenrechte erkannt werden.”
Das war Wirklichkeit. Kein Schwindel wie damals mit der Onanie.
Ein letztes, kleines Fünkchen Hoffnung, kaum aufgeglommen, schon
war es erloschen. (167).
“Das Netz” (“The Net”) is in effect a corrective, normative network of a Freudian Gesetz des
Vaters and of the actual law of the State. The ellipsis at the start of the second paragraph
signifies the unspeakable nature of the crime defined by § 175, namely male-male intercourse
(cf. endnote 44). By noon of the next day, Felix “disciplines” himself and Alf with his
decision:
Er wird verzichten, er wird nicht wieder schuld werden, daß sein lieber Alf
ein Sittlichkeitsverbrechen begeht. Und nie sollte Alf erfahren, was sie getan
hatten: Alf sollte nicht eine solche Nacht erleben müssen. Fortan sollte nur
noch das Schweigen zwischen ihnen beiden sein. Liebe ist der Wille, dem
anderen Gutes zu tun. (168)
For weeks, Alf fought in vain for Felix’s love. Germany was at war, and suddenly,
[. . .] war eines Morgens Maartens’ Platz leer. Nach dem Gebet sagte der
Bietsch: “Also, unser lieber Maartens hat sich freiwillig für das Vaterland
gemeldet. Ihr solltet euch ein Beispiel an ihm nehmen” (170).
One day, the class receives a letter from Alf from the front, and Bietsch gives the card to
Felix. Shortly thereafter, Felix anonymously sends Alf “sein erstes Feldpostpaket” (173) with
money that Felix earns by doing his classmates’ homework. In April 1915, Alf turns
seventeen, and Felix sends him a birthday package with the following message: “Alles Gute,
lieber Alf! Dein Felix” (175). Some days later, Felix receives his first letter from Alf, which
had been included with a letter to Alf’s parents. Feigning a headache, Felix insists that he not
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be disturbed: “Er [. . .] ging in sein Zimmer, riegelte ab” (176). Locking the door signifies a
conscious act of defining boundaries and control—not only does he lock out unwanted
family members, but he also creates a private sphere in which he communicates with Alf.
Other than Felix and Alf, only the reader has access to this sphere. This letter marks the
beginning of an intimate correspondence between Alf and Felix that comprises the epistolary
chapter, “Die Briefe.”
The Homosexual Narrative: “Die Briefe”
While there is no concrete proof that Bruno Vogel read the letters that had been published
in the 1915-16 volumes of Hirschfeld’s Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen, Vogel’s work as a
reviewer for the Jahrbuch and his later service on the Committee’s board of directors make
this a very real possibility. The letters in “Die Briefe” are strikingly similar to those in the
Jahrbuch: the correspondences not only began in the same year; they also deal with the same
motifs mentioned in the previous section—reconciled love, thankfulness for packages from
home, longing for one’s beloved, and the homosexuals’ ambivalence to the Fatherland due
to § 175. Indeed, these fictional letters stand apart from the rest of the novel, free from any
commentary from the narrator, and more importantly, free from any “corrective,”
“normative” impulses such as the will of the Father or a “masculine,” authoritarian
narrative.30 As Hirschfeld had allowed the letters in the Jahrbuch to “speak for themselves,”
so too does Vogel—or the narrator—allow Alf’s and Felix’s fictional letters to do the same.
The letters not only determine the narrative, they are the narrative. The letters are not only
free from external “corrective” discourses; they free themselves—in an emancipatory, selfdetermining, self-confirming manner, forming what I term a “homosexual narrative.”31 KeilsonLauritz cites reviews of Alf from Der Eigene, one of which states: “‘Von diesem Buch kann
nur wie von etwas Lebendigem gesprochen werden’” (qtd. on 209). She continues:
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Im Unterschied zu früheren Rezensionen, in denen “Roman” und “Leben”
gegeneinander abgesetzt und ausgespielt wurden, ist hier nicht nur –
produktionsästhetisch – der autobiographische Aspekt angesprochen,
sondern – rezeptionsästhetisch – eine “lebendige” Beziehung zwischen
Text/Buch und Leser unterstellt, wobei der Rezensent als stellvertretender
Leser eine Art Treuegelöbnis ablegt. (209-10)
This “Rezeptionsästhetik” of the letters in the novel is a defining factor of the “homosexual
narrative,” and is part and parcel of the greater “modernist homosexual aesthetic” as
discussed in ch. 2. Vogel taps into the experiences of male homosexuals who had served—or
who had loved someone who had served—in World War I. His novel Alf belongs to those
works published in 1929, such as Remarque’s Im Westen Nichts Neues, which commemorate
the experiences of soldiers on the front in World War I. Not only does Vogel integrate war
stories that so many had experienced themselves, but he also weaves into these stories a
homosexual love story. The horrors of war that Alf reports in his letters to Felix eventually
move Felix to join the underground on the home front against Germany’s efforts on the war
front(s)—and against § 175. Vogel’s portrayal of Felix as a resistance fighter on the home
front dismantles Hirschfeld’s gendered spheres of an active, masculine “war front” and
passive, feminine “home front.” In doing so, Vogel negates the idea that pacifism is passive
(and effeminate), calling upon all readers, regardless of gender, to be actively pacifist against
the injustice of war and the injustice of § 175. In the narrative, it is Felix who responds to
this call; he is the ideal activist, because his action stems from an inner impulse. The
“rezeptionsästhetisch” style in which Alf is written transforms what otherwise would be a simple
pedagogical fable with a moral into a moment of self-realization on the part of the reader of
his/her latent inner call for action.
In his first letter to Felix, Alf’s first concern is to understand why Felix had turned
away from him. Tragically, Felix’s attempt to save himself and Alf from becoming criminals
led Alf to volunteer for the army:
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Ich habe ja damals annehmen müssen, müssen, daß du mich nicht mehr lieb
hast, daß du einen anderen Menschen hast, furchtbare Tage waren das,
immer und immer wieder das kalte, grausame „Laß mich!“ – ich konnte das
einfach nicht mehr ertragen, neben dir sitzen, wie wenn wir uns ganz fremd
wären! Kein Mensch kann so eine Quälerei aushalten! Und da habe ich mich
– freiwillig gemeldet! (180)
For Alf, the War is an exploitation of the youth on the part of parents and teachers. In an
angry tone, Alf parodies the heroic myth of the war front: “Verflucht die elenden
Arschpauker auf unserer Penne, die uns so begeistert erzählen konnten vom frischfröhlichen Heldentod auf der Walstatt – dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori – ja,
verdammt süß und ehrenvoll ist es, für diesen Schwindel zu verrecken!” (181). In the letter
dated April 24, 1915, he writes:
So schön einfach hatte man sich das vorgestellt: An einem Sommertag stürmt
man über ein Feld, das Gewehr in der Rechten, durch den Kugelregen, die
Feinde fliehen nach dem Walde zu – die Kameraden schreien Hurra! – und
dann ein Reißen in der Brust, man stürzt, Blut, ein letzter Gedanke, die
Lippen formen noch einmal eines Menschen Namen – und vorbei ist alle
Qual und Sehnsucht. - - So glatt geht das aber nicht immer: Man kann zum Beispiel auch blind
geschossen werden.
Oder es zerfetzt einem das Gesicht zu einer Fratze, daß man nicht
mehr in den Spiegel sehen kann. (183)
This passage makes clear the danger of the glorification or the “aesthetics” of war. The first
paragraph is reminiscent of the soldier’s account from the Vierteljahrsberichte 16.2: 85-86 (p.
124-25), with a “shower of bullets,” the aesthetic bond of camaraderie, and a wellchoreographed death scene. Yet Alf makes clear that not all performances run so smoothly;
that sometimes a soldier must sometimes survive such wounds and wear them as physical
traumata.32
Read as an anti-war novel, Alf presents two young men who, in their open criticism
of the war, rebel against the older generation of teachers and parents. This new generation
was often referred to as a generation of idealists. However, Alf’s anti-war idealism does not
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match the pro-war idealism expressed in most war letters of the day—neither in those
published by Hirschfeld in 1914 and 1915, nor in other contemporary collections.33
In his introduction to Kriegsbriefe deutscher Studenten (1915), Prof. Philipp Witkop
presents a sample letter in which the author’s company is described as possessing
“Idealismus, Pflichteifer, Heldenmut, Begeisterung [. . .]” (5). The same soldier-author
continues to write that the men in his company are “[. . .] reine, uneigennützige Idealisten,
steht bei uns über all dies die Idee des ‘Heiligen und gerechten Krieges’, des Volkskriegs” (5).
Witkop describes that difference between letters printed in the paper and those that he has
edited lies therein,
[. . .] wie nicht nur das Sachliche, das sich schließlich erschöpft und
wiederholt, sich in ihnen darstellt, wie das Seelische, Geistige, Persönliche
neben ihm behauptet und ausspricht. Das ist die Lektüre, die keineswegs als
Zeitvertrieb erscheint, die den einzelnen zu den Quellen und Tiefen seiner
Weltanschauung immer wieder erneuernd zurückführt. (5)
The “Weltanschauung” of the soldiers’ in this collection is basically an aesthetic view of the
war; it is literally a Kulturkampf. Reading Jean Paul (5), Goethe (6, 8,), and Liliencron (5), the
soldier-authors describe their war experience through the lens of high literature:
“Mit besonderer Sorgfalt, ja Liebe hüte ich mein kleines LiliencronBändchen! [. . .] Auf einsamer Wacht, den Revolver schußbereit am Koppel,
allein mit meinen, die ferne Heimat und die Lieben suchenden Gedanken,
kam oft sein Geist zu mir und hielt mit mir Zwiesprache. Die Klänge des
Hohenfriedbergers brausten durch die Lüfte, und über mir durch die Kronen
des nahen Wäldchens ging ein Sausen. Näher und näher kam es durch die
Nacht. Die Sterne funkeln. Stumm lauern die treuen Geschütze auf den
Feind.” (Kriegsbriefe deutscher Studenten 5)
In contrast to these letters, Alf’s voice is defiant, dismissing any aestheticism of war as a
gross lie. In a letter to Felix dated May 7, 1915, he calls the literature available at the front:
Entweder patriotischer Mist oder Literatur, die von den Sternen schwatzt.
[. . .] Mir sind die Sterne heute so schnuppe, so unsäglich wurst. Ueberlassen
[sic] wir sie ruhig den Generationen nach uns. Wir haben Wichtigeres zu tun.
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Also, ich meine mit Literatur, die von den Sternen schwatzt, Bücher,
die sich mit Dingen und Fragen befassen, die uns gar nichts angehen. Alles
Schwindel, was sie uns hier anbieten! –
Ich brauche aber etwas zum Denken. Was einem in diesem
zermürbenden, stumpfen Einerlei anregt, Spannungen gibt. (225)
It is the homosexual narrative in Alf’s letters—and in the novel itself—that differentiate
them from other war stories of the time. With this emancipative homosexual narrative,
Vogel suggests that the “Weltanschauung” of the homosexual soldier might be more than
blind obedience to elders or blind faith in culture. Instead, Alf, the homosexual soldier—
already self-realized due to his outsider status on the home front—questions his roles as a
soldier on the war front and as a persecuted citizen on the home front. For Vogel, if nothing
else, the War should be seen as an opportunity for societal change and individual
emancipation; active pacifism during wartime should induce critical thought.
Self-Determination and Differing Subject Positions in the Homosexual Narrative
Felix’s letter to Alf on April 29 marks the beginning of his personal emancipation and
transformation.34 This first letter is marked with fear: fear of having lost Alf—“Zu spät! Zu
spät! Zu spät! (187); fear of imprisonment according to § 175—“Sexuelle Handlungen
zwischen Personen männlichen Geschlechts werden mit Gefängnis bestraft!!! Unsere
herrlichen Stunden – das waren Sittlichkeitsverbrechen gewesen!” (188); and fear of further
isolation—“[. . .] da fällt mir ein Satz ein, den ich mal gelesen hatte: Je suis l’immensément
perdu – ich bin der unendlich verlorene – und ich muß immer an diesen Satz denken . . .”
(189). Vogel’s initial portrayal of Felix parallels Hirschfeld’s gendered spheres of the
masculine war and effeminate home fronts, rendering Felix as a classically “effeminate”
homosexual. Felix waits at home for Alf; from time to time he sends Alf a package, much as
many on the home front report in Hirschfeld’s Vierteljahrsberichte.
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On May 2, Alf offers a simple response to Felix’s fears: “Du hast mich lieb, ich hab
dich lieb – Mensch, das ist doch kein Problem!” (204). And Alf goes further: “Du fragst
immer nach den anderen, was die dazu sagen werden. Du mußt lernen, zu dir selber Ja zu
sagen. Zu tun, was d u für gut und richtig hältst” (205). This statement sparks the impulse
of self-emancipation. The letters in “Die Briefe” will come to serve not only for Alf and
Felix, but also for the reader in a receptive-aesthetic manner (Keilson-Lauritz) as the impulse
for self-determination and emancipation.35 Alf writes: “Um einen Satz aus unserem EinjährigFreiwilligenunterricht zu gebrauchen: Du läßt die Gesetze deines Handelns vom Feind
diktieren!” (205). By “enemy”, Vogel meant more than just the enemy on the war front, but
the “enemy” supporters of § 175 on the home front as well:
[. . .] Von Schuld hat zwischen uns beiden gar nicht die Rede zu sein. Schuld
sind die, die das Netz gesponnen haben, in das wir geraten sind! Mit denen
werden wir abrechnen müssen. Sie sollen nicht in alle Ewigkeit ungestört ihr
infames Werk weitertreiben! (206)
With this statement, Alf turns the tables on the question of guilt. No longer do Alf and Felix
see themselves as guilty and perverse, but, to quote von Praunheim, “the situation in which
the homosexual is in is perverse.”36 As in the journals Der Eigene, Die Insel, and Die
Freundschaft, the modernist homosexual aesthetic is not an attempt to seek respectability
among heterosexuals, but it is a positive political force from homosexuals for homosexuals
that requires action on the part of the reader/observer—or at least that aids the homosexual
in the process of his self-determination. Alf states his new conviction on May 3, 1915:
[. . .] darum habe ich dir gestern die vielleicht ein bißchen grob klingenden
Sätze geschrieben, daß du mehr Willen, mehr Energie aufbringen mußt –
wir können mitkämpfen gegen Bosheit und Dummh e i t, m i t h e l f e n , d a ß a n d e r e M e n s c h e n n i c h t, w i e
w i r b e i d e, a u s U n w i s s e n h e i t s o S ch w e r e s d u r ch m a ch e n m ü s s en. Erkenntnisse sind nur dann zu spät, wenn man nicht
mehr die Energie hat, sie durchzusetzen. (207)
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If this had been an actual correspondence and Vogel had edited these letters, he—as
Hirschfeld often did—could have chosen to highlight powerful passages in order to more
strongly engage the reader. The “wir” in this highlighted passage refers not only to Felix and
Alf, not only to reader. The “wir” is a collective voice that no longer wants for emancipation
from § 175, but that says, “we can” emancipate ourselves.
In his Kriegsbriefe deutscher Studenten, Witkop includes examples of students who cite
German literary greats in order to instill themselves with the “German spirit,” thereby
rejuvenating and inspiring themselves before going to battle. In Alf, Alf carries a small
collection of Friedrich Nietzsche’s works: “Manches habe ich nicht verstanden, manches hat
mir auch sehr mißfallen, vieles hat mir ganz neue Ausblicke gegeben. Immer hat mich das
Bändchen zum Denken gezwungen, und es hat mir viel Kraft gegeben” (209). Unlike the
actual soldiers who read seeking the “German spirit,” Alf reads in a receptive-aesthetic
fashion: he reads Nietzsche in order to help him with his self-determination not as a German
soldier, but as a homosexual.37 Including two quotes in his letter to Felix, he concludes:
“Standhalten! Sich nicht unterkriegen lassen! Wir haben noch Aufgaben vor uns!” (211).
In order to survive not just the war and enemy soldiers, but his comrades as well, it is
still necessary that Alf continue to wear the soldierly mask: “Wie ich die ersten Wochen
haußen [sic] war, da war ich auch manchmal am Zusammenbrechen. Dir kann ich das ja
sagen – anderen Menschen, das habe ich gelernt, zeige ich nie, wenn ich schwach bin” (209).
Despite his critical thinking, Alf knows that he cannot show any signs of weakness such as
weak nerves. Such signifiers of “effeminacy” on the front will isolate him further from his
comrades. 38 Alf admits that his nerves are failing him: “Und dann sind auch meine Nerven
ziemlich zermürbt und es fällt mir nicht leicht, mich zu konzentrieren” (211).
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Alf’s preoccupation with his nerves recalls Hirschfeld’s description of those
effeminate German homosexuals who might panic in battle when they must bayonet enemy
English or French soldiers (cf. p. 128). Alf is “man enough” to fight the enemy, but he is
traumatized by the experience:
Tagelang beunruhigte mich irgend etwas. Es war so, als ob ich etwas
vergessen hätte, was ich aber unbedingt wissen mußte, und es will und will
mir nicht einfallen. [. . .] Ich höre jemanden sagen: „Mensch, ist das harte
[sic]! Hier muß doch enne [sic] Falte im Bettlaken sein!“ – da hab ich’s: Wie
ich dem Belgier das Bajonett in den Leib stieß, zuckten zwischen seinen
Augenbrauen zwei tiefe Falten. (228)
As much as he is haunted by having killed a man, the fact that he killed the man based only
on his nationality haunts him even more.39 Suggesting that Felix could have been born just as
well a Frenchman as a German, Alf writes, “Ich versuchte, mir vorzustellen, wie ich dir ein
Bajonett in den Leib stoße. Wie du mich ansehen würdest” (229). It is almost as if the
correspondence is a transfer of Alf’s trauma from the war front to Felix. Felix begins to
dream of Alf killing hundreds of soldiers with a bayonet until finally, Felix witnesses Alf
being bayoneted.
But why, if “[d]ieses ist der modernste Krieg, der je geführt wurde” (cf. p. 124), is the
weapon a bayonet? Why not mines, grenades, or machine guns?40 In his lecture “Die
Symbolik im Traum,” Freud writes that in dreams
[. . .] das männliche Glied [. . .] findet symbolischen Ersatz erstens durch
Dinge, die ihm in der Form ähnlich, also lang und hochragend sind, wie:
Stöcke, Schirme, Stangen, Bäume und dgl. Ferner durch Gegenstände, die die
Eigenschaft des In-den-Körper-Eindringens und Verletzens mit dem
Bezeichneten gemein haben, also spitzige Waffen jeder Art, Messer, Dolche,
Lanzen; Säbel, aber ebenso durch Schießwaffen: Gewehre, Pistolen und den
durch seine Form so sehr dazu tauglichen Revolver. In den ängstlichen
Träumen der Mädchen spielt die Verfolgung durch einen Mann mit einem
Messer oder eine Schußwaffe eine große Rolle. (156)
If, in the words of Ernst Jünger, combat is the best moment in the career of a soldier, “[. . .]
gesteigerte Männlichkeit zu beweisen” (14), then knowing how to “handle one’s weapon”
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certainly would be proof of a soldier’s masculinity, regardless if he is homo- or heterosexual
or at home or on the battle field.41 On the war front, handling the bayonet is part of the
soldierly performance. If the performance is successful, the soldier sports a healthy
masculinity (and a healthy sexuality). If, as in the case published by Hirschfeld, one cannot
handle his bayonet, then the soldier is not a man, is impotent (Freud), and effeminate by
nature (Hirschfeld).
The ideal soldier, as Theweleit has discussed, is disciplined to transfer his individual
sexual drive to the collective effort of the military “Machine.” Alf, despite his anti-war
thinking, proves himself as a soldier and as masculine vis-à-vis his skill with his bayonet.
Following this Freudian logic, Alf’s fantasy of bayoneting Felix, as well as Felix’s nightmares
of Alf bayoneting hundreds of soldiers before finally being bayoneted himself, could signify
a transfer—or a repression—of their sexual desire. For Felix on the home front, his dreams
could represent sexual jealously or fear of impotence—or effeminacy.
Felix’s letter from May 15, 1915 digresses from the horrors of war to provocative
rhetoric on how power is exercised in modernity. In a very didactic manner, Felix first asks
the question, “Warum besteht dieses Gesetz [§ 175]? Wir taten niemandem etwas Böses!”
(241). He then proceeds to answer his own question with a short history of § 175. Ultimate
blame for the Paragraph seems to lie in the hands of a woman—then Empress Augusta—a
misogynist suggestion that a woman’s religious convictions “put an end” to erotic
friendships between men during the Gründerzeit and beyond.42
However, Felix largely blames the teachers at the Gymnasium for instilling in the
students a false sense of respect for institutions that play a crucial role in the exchange of
power, but in effect are “empty signifiers”:
Man hat vor W o r t e n Angst und Respekt gehabt, weil man nicht wußte,
welche Wirklichkeiten dahinter stecken.
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Alles bloß schöne, große, aber hohle Worte: Das Gesetz; das
Vaterland; die christliche Kultur; der süße und ehrenvolle Tod auf der
Walstatt, das beste, das die Erzieher für einen wollen, die Keuschheit. . .ach,
man könnte seitenlang solche Ideale aufzählen! (244-45).
In a remarkably modern and equally self-determining fashion, Vogel does not simply leave
an analysis of the characters to the reader. Alf and Felix analyze themselves and those like
them (which, in the majority of the cases, would include the reader) by consulting Freud’s
and Hirschfeld’s texts, thereby independently deconstructing “the net” in which they are
“trapped.” Herr Tullig, a sympathetic teacher, brings Felix some journals that feature a series
on “Sexualität und Religion,” in which an article by Freud appears. (331)43 With the help of
this text, Felix explains to Alf (and to the reader)—almost fifty years before Foucault’s
History of Sexuality—what it means to repress one’s sexual drive, why sex is supposedly a sin,
and how differing discourses (here, theology) are interlaced to form “the net”:
Man erklärte nämlich den Geschlechtstrieb, geschlechtliche Handlungen für
“Sünde”, dagegen die Verdrängung (“Keuschheit”) für gut und Gott
wohlgefällig. [. . .] Die Sündhafterklärung der Sexualität erfolgte aus der
Erkenntnis, daß sie das einfachste und geeignete Mittel ist, a l l e n
Menschen, auch den besten, das Gefühl der Schlechtigkeit, der Reue und
somit der P r i e s t e r b e d ü r f t i g k e i t beizubringen. Die Kirche
braucht Menschen, die sich für schuldbewußt, elend, schwach, schlecht
verworfen halten, die von Unruhe, Reue und Qualen erfüllt sind. (332-33)
Felix continues: “Die Zerknirschung des sexuellen Schuldgefühls macht auch das reinste
Gemüt des harmlosesten Menschen der Kirche gegenüber gefügig. (Nach Magnus
Hirschfeld)” (334).
Vogel’s citations of Freud and Hirschfeld in “Die Briefe” stiffens the narrative’s
tone. However, one could also argue that these additions convey the Zeitgeist in Berlin in
1929: a year that marks the ten-year anniversary of the end of World War I, a year that marks
the height of Neue Sachlichkeit in German literature with Alfred Döblin’s Berlin Alexanderplatz;
a year in which intellectuals and authors were seeking answers or a purpose for the War and
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questioning “the net” in which not only homosexuals, but almost everyone seemed to be
trapped. Although in 1929, Hirschfeld’s leadership in the homosexual emancipation
movement was nearing its end,44 sexology—and more importantly, psychology—had
established themselves as credible sciences that would provide necessary “proof” for the
further self-determination of homosexual men and for other members of society (most
notably hetero- and homosexual women) as well.
“Abschied” and its Consequences
Despite Felix’s underground efforts against the War and a plan à la Romeo and Juliet that
would have secured Alf’s return due to “illness” caused by a medication, Alf would never
return alive. In one of his final letters to Felix, Alf writes of the teachers at the Gymnasium,
“Sie wußten doch uns so wohl zu belehren: ‘Davon verstehst Du nichts, und wenn man von
Dingen nichts versteht, dann hält man hübsch wohlweislich den Mund.’” (298). He
continues, citing from the school’s journal that had been sent to him:
Zu lesen: “Und doch gibt es nichts Größeres und Erhabeneres, nichts
Schöneres als den Tod auf dem Schlachtfeld, den Heldentod fürs Vaterland.
Die edlen Grundzüge, die der Geist in den irdischen Stoff geprägt hat, sie
treten hervor, und auf der reinen Stirn webt es wie Siegesglanz . . . .” (299)
As mentioned earlier, terms such as “Tod auf dem Schlachtfeld” and “Vaterland” had
become empty signifiers for Alf, Felix, and perhaps even for the reader. Alf is peppered
throughout by Vogel’s irony, and the manner in which the schoolboys Alf and Felix cite the
words of their teachers is no exception. As if the prior citation were a foreshadowing of his
death, it is clear that the character Alf recognizes his place within the military “Machine,” but
is still able to write critically of the “Machine” and the “Menschenmaterial” (297) to which
he has been reduced. Although Alf has learned this too late, he has at least realized how
155
power is exchanged and surrendered: both as a soldier to his commander’s will, and as a
homosexual to the legal status quo in Germany.
“Abschied,” the final section of the novel, begins with a Monday service in the
school auditorium. Religion teacher Gondeliusz, whom Alf and Felix had criticized heavily in
their correspondence as a hypocrite, delivers a short memorial at the podium. His speech is
merely a slight variation of that which he had written in the school journal and which Alf
had quoted in his letter to Felix. Gondeliusz’s use of “empty signifiers” in his speech
confirms that Alf’s and Felix’s criticisms are warranted:
“Wieder hat unsere Schule einen weiteren herben Verlust zu beklagen, von
dem wir heute früh Kenntnis erhielten.
Es hat Gott, dem Herrn, gefallen, den Vizefeldwebel der Reserve Alf
Maartens den ehrenvollen Tod fürs Vaterland finden zu lassen. Wir verlieren
in Maartens einen feinempfindenen, idealgesinnten Menschen; für alles Gute
und Schöne begeistert, reich an edlen Interessen, dabei schlicht und
bescheiden in seinem Wesen, berechtigte er zu den schönsten Hoffnungen.
Ein junger deutscher Held – war er doch erst weniges über 16 Jahre alt, als er
als Kriegsfreiwilliger aus der Untersekunda zu der Fahne eilte – der, was ihm
groß und heilig war, mit seinem Blut besiegelte, ist er eingegangen zur ewigen
Herrlichkeit.” (343-44)
“Durch seine Schuld!”: Guilt and the Masculine Narrative
Upon hearing the news of Alf’s death, Felix feigns a nosebleed and leaves the auditorium
while asking himself, “. . . Es hat Gott gefallen – es hat Gott gefallen – ob es ihm sehr
gefallen hat?. . .” (344). The relationship between Alf and Felix had to have been an open
secret at the Gymnasium: although Alf and Felix complained about teachers such as Bietsch
and Gondeliusz, others (like the aforementioned Tullig) were sympathetic to the boys,
despite the fact that the two never disclose the intimate nature of their friendship. Upon
seeing Felix, the Greek (!) teacher Herr Hein allows Felix to leave school early and adds,
“Seien Sie stark, Felix Braun!” (345), thereby recognizing the importance of Alf’s and Felix’s
relationship. The characters of Alf and Felix illustrate that the process of self-determination
156
must come from an inner impulse. In addition, Hein’s statement illustrates the importance of
external recognition and support of homosexuals, and that such recognition need not take
the form of pity of another’s homosexual orientation.
Felix returns home to the family “net,” where the imperative “männliche Narrative”
continues to function. Vogel skillfully interweaves the commanding “voice of the Father”
with Christian dogma as the Braun family sits down for lunch: “‘Beim Mittagessen
kommandierte Herr Braun, wie üblich: “Felix! Beten!’” Yet, due to his relationship and
correspondence with Alf, Felix no longer surrenders his voice—the homosexual narrative—
to the masculine narrative: “‘Nein, ich bete nicht.’” (345). His father rebuts:
“Was!? Du betest nicht?! Du bist wohl verrückt geworden? ”
Ruhig sah Felix seinen Vater an: “Im Gegenteil, Vater. – Ich bete
nicht. ”
Der erkannte, oder fühlte, daß er hier einem Willen gegenüberstand,
an dem die Autorität zerbrechen mußte.
Er verzichtete auf den Kampf: “Ilse, dann betest du von jetzt ab.”
(345-46)
In this passage, the pre-War Expressionist Father-Son conflict takes on greater meaning than
just a generational conflict:45 Felix takes the ultimate step in his self-determination, rejecting
all forms of masculine narratives, be they clerical, legal, or familial in nature. Truly, in this
patriarchy, all three are tied together in the “voice of the Father.” In rebuking the “voice of
the father,” Felix rejects the patriarchy’s diagnosis of “crazy” and quietly—but firmly—
demands recognition of his self-determination. This moment marks a literary “coming out,”
where the masculine narrative (“voice of the father”) is rejected—by the author, by his
characters, and by the readers—in favor of a homosexual narrative.
Having set the boundaries of his father’s influence, Felix returns to his room—the
homosexual topos in the literary floor plan—after having visited Alf’s parents. Despite the
157
father-son struggle earlier that day, Frau Braun does not recognize the boundaries that her
son has established in her home:
Frau Braun kam ins Zimmer: “Es ist schon bald zwölf und du brennst immer
noch Licht. Geh ins Bette, du machst doch keine Schularbeiten mehr! Wer
soll denn die Gasrechnung bezahlen! Was machst du denn da eigentlich?!”
“Ich lese die Briefe, die mir Alf aus dem Feld geschrieben hat. Alf
Maartens ist tot. Geh bitte hinaus.” (348)
In order to draw attention to Felix’s newly won autonomy and his newly developed rational
voice, Frau Braun’s speech is written in a stereotypically “hysteric” tone (marked by her
repeated exclamations), while Felix responds in a short, “controlled” manner. Rational,
controlled—via Felix’s language, Vogel grants Felix a degree of masculinity. In contrast to the
authoritarian “masculine narrative” of the father, Felix’s homosexual narrative is a midpoint—
a “third” sex/voice—between the stereotypes of authoritarian, imperative “masculine” and
hysteric, exclamatory “feminine” narratives. It is through his correspondence with Alf that
Felix has access to his new voice. To signify this, Vogel ends the novel when Felix takes the
same oath as Alf once had: “Dann schrieb er unter Alfs letzten Brief: ‘Ich will mitkämpfen
gegen Bosheit und Dummheit, mithelfen, daß andere Menschen nicht, wie wir beide, aus
Unwissenheit so Schweres durchmachen müssen. Das verspreche ich dir, Alf” (349).
Conclusion: The Third Sex and the Soldier
Based on historical and fictional narratives, the preceding discussion yields a more definitive
look at how Hirschfeld’s Third Sex Theory shaped the collective imagination of the German
soldier figure in the Wilhelmine, World War I, and Weimar eras. As a symbol of the Nation’s
virility, the German soldier had to be safeguarded against effeminate influences. Faced with a
growing number of nervous disorders, it was feared that all segments of the population
would be “effeminized” in modernity’s crisis of masculinity. Sociological and medical studies
into the question of these nervous disorders served to homogenize the male/female
158
polarities rather than reinforce the wall that divided masculine and feminine, “healthy” and
“sick,” respectable and degenerate. Both the soldier’s body and that which he signified
became objects of medical, sociological, and literary interest.
In Hirschfeld’s Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, the homosexual acts as the foil to the soldier:
by the strong contrast of the homosexual’s effeminacy, the “virile masculinity” of the soldier
is underscored. The actual point of interest is the homosexual’s respectable relationship to
the soldier, which, like the book itself, should emphasize the general respectable nature of
the homosexual German citizen. Gender is performed not only via stereotypical “masculine”
or “effeminate” body language, but also via topography. While the soldier belongs entirely to
the masculine public sphere and is denied any comfort of the effeminate private sphere, just
the opposite is true for the effeminate homosexual. When in public, the homosexual masks
himself as heterosexual, careful not to draw attention to himself. Relationships between
soldiers and homosexuals provide each group access to both gendered spheres.
However, in comparison with the masculine soldier, Hirschfeld’s Third Sex is not
androgynous, but remains noticeably effeminate, lacking any masculine qualities. The
theoretically infinite, indeed, individual gender possibilities that the Third Sex presents in
Sappho und Sokrates face real limitations in practice in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht. Given the
contemporary crisis of masculinity within society (especially within the military) as well as the
lack of “androgynous” vocabulary, it is understandable that Hirschfeld rely on the polarities
of “masculine” and “feminine” when portraying the soldier and the homosexual in the
Wilhelmine era. Of note is Hirschfeld’s use of irony to create distance between the reader
and the homosexual subject, allowing for a more objective interpretation of the homosexual
vis-à-vis the soldier.
159
With Germany’s entry into the war, political and ideological differences among
Germans “collapsed.” This held true for Hirschfeld and the WhK, whose Vierteljahrsberichte
from 1915-16 was dedicated not to homosexual emancipation per se, but to an accurate
portrayal of the role that homosexuals played on both the home- and war fronts. In contrast
to the pre-War era, gender polarities of “masculine” soldier and “effeminate” homosexual
break down at the front, allowing for a Third Sex in the military: the homosexual soldier.
The soldierly mask worn by homosexuals at the front conveys a healthy masculinity.
The letters written to Hirschfeld—and his publication of them—prove that Theweleit’s
monolithic portrayal of the steeled soldier is more a reinforcement of masculine military
stereotypes than critical analysis of them. Hirschfeld’s Third Sex theory and the homosexual
letters from the front carve out a place for those who do not necessarily fit into the military
“Machine,” as Theweleit would later define it.
The soldierly mask is worn by all men, hetero- and homosexual alike. However, the
mask as a “possibility” for the advancement of homosexuals in society is also a norming
agent. As evidenced by those who are not allowed to serve in the military due to a past
conviction under § 175, the homosexual must wear the mask in order to be considered
“healthy” and useful to the Fatherland. Even if it were known among comrades that a
soldier were of the Third Sex, this soldier had to exhibit considerably more “masculine” than
“feminine” traits in order to be accepted. Although by World War I the “homosexual
soldier” is now a possibility, the effeminate homosexual with his weak nerves remains
pathological; a danger to himself and to others on the front, as Hirschfeld himself suggests.
Germany’s defeat in 1919 further fed the crisis of masculinity. German soldiers
returned home not only defeated, but often with a loss of limbs, loss of sexual function,
and/or nervous disorders such as Kriegsneurose. The War had not produced heroes from these
160
young men; rather, it had traumatized and “effeminized” them. The “Lost Generation”
turned to psychology and sexology not just to understand the War, but to understand
themselves. However, by 1929, many of their questions remained unanswered. A total
economic collapse following a brief economic recovery in 1924-25 left Germans hopeless.
Literary works of the time echo the frustration and grief that still reigned in Germany ten
years after the War, examining family psychology, generational conflicts, and the role of the
German soldier in wartime. While Döblin’s protagonist Franz Biberkopf in Berlin
Alexanderplatz is confronted with the issue of homosexual rights, Bruno Vogel’s lesserknown Alf presents the aforementioned issues through a homosexual lens, via the world of
Felix Braun and Alf Maartens.
In Alf, Vogel expands on Hirschfeld’s work in the 1915-16 Vierteljahrsberichte, creating
a literary space not only for the “homosexual soldier” Alf and his boyfriend Felix, but also
for the reader. Like “homosexual photography” and the larger modernist homosexual
aesthetic, the reader-response, receptive aesthetics of the letters in Alf translates receptive
aesthetics into self-determination. Stated otherwise, the letters in Alf—like the letters in
Hirschfeld’s Vierteljahrsberichten—communicate an urgency for change for homosexuals on
the part of homosexuals, regardless if at war or at home. Not only the story, but also the
narrative itself indicate this. The father/son conflict in Alf culminates not in the death of the
father and the authoritarian masculine narrative, but with the self-determination of the son
and the “homosexual narrative.” In addition to his influence on the visual homosexual
aesthetic, the soldier and his letters from the war front largely inspired a modernist
homosexual narrative.
161
Notes to Chapter 3
1
For a thorough account of the Eulenberg Affair, see STEAKLEY, “Iconography.”
This section of Berlins Drittes Geschlecht was reprinted as the chapter “Soldaten- und
Halbprostitution” in OSTWALD’s Großstadtdokument, Männliche Prostitution im kaiserlichen Berlin
(1906). Although Ostwald acknowledges the existence of prostitution among soldiers and
homosexuals, Ostwald stresses that the “soldier” cannot be confused with the
“homosexual”: “Mit unserm Militärwesen, das den Soldaten auf eine ganz tiefe, fast auf die
tiefste Lebenshaltung hinunterdrückt – ihn, der oft schon draußen im bürgerlichen Leben
eine ganz behagliche Lebensstufe mit seiner Hände oder seines Kopfes Arbeit sich errungen
hatte, haben wir eine höchst häßliche Erscheinung großgezogen. Die Soldatenprostitution. Ja, sie verdient
mit dem abscheulichen Namen belegt zu werden, diese widerwärtige Erscheinung, daß junge,
kräftige Leute sich in dem bunten Rock feil halten, der sonst als ein Rock der Ehre angesehen wird. Da
kann es gar keine Beschönigung geben. Wenn Homosexuelle und solche, die ihnen nahestehen,
meinen, bei den Soldaten handle es sich nicht um eine berufs- und gewerbsmäßige Hingabe des Körpers, so
muß das energisch bestritten werden. Und zwar kann es mit den eigenen Worten Dr. Hirschfelds bestritten
werden” (85, emphasis mine).
3 Brand had blamed Hirschfeld for the “sexing” of homosexuals. See BRAND,
“Homosexualität.”
4
Truly, under the National Socialists, a de-eroticized “Kameraderie” would become the
glue of homosocial organizations. Even wives would be referred to as “Kameradin” in an
attempt to bring together the German people under the banner of “Kameraderie”:
“Kameradschaft strukturiert – [. . .] die soziale Praxis des Soldatenlebens in der Friedensund erst recht in der Kriegszeit, und dies nicht nur in Deutschland, sondern auch in anderen
Ländern, und nicht erst im Zweiten Weltkrieg, sondern auch schon vorher, zumindest seit
dem Anbruch der Moderne” (KÜHNE, “. . . aus diesem Krieg” 176).
5
This widely accepted historical construction of gender is supported by KÜHNE: “Zu
den als naturgegeben gedachten Wesensmerkmalen der Männlichkeit zählen seit dem
Anbruch der Moderne im späten 18. Jahrhundert unter anderem Willenskraft, Tapferkeit,
Zielstrebigkeit, Selbständigkeit, Gewaltbereitschaft, Kompromißlosigkeit, Verstand. Zu den
ebenso verstandenen Wesensmerkmalen der Frau zählt jeweils das Gegenteil: Schwäche,
Bescheidenheit,
Wankelmut,
Abhängigkeit,
Güte,
Nachgiebigkeit,
Gefühl”
6
This is a point of debate among me and some of my colleagues. Some would find
this argumentation unsound, as “Hirschfeld is a product of his time” and could only operate
with gender constructs that were understandable not only to the public at large, but also that
were understandable to him. An additional criticism of this logic is that Hirschfeld’s agenda
never was to subvert gender roles or to “expose” gender as a performance. I have thought
considerably about such arguments, and I do agree to a certain extent. The Third Sex theory
is based on a bipolar “man”-“woman” scale. However, I find it striking that in the same
moment that Hirschfeld defends “alternative” sexual relationships, he buttresses his defense
with deeply entrenched gender structures. This thinking still reigns today, as exemplified by
the typical embarrassing question (recently posed to me): “Which one of you is the woman?”
with respect to gay male couples and “Which one of you is the man?” with respect to lesbian
couples.
7
“Das ‘Bündel aus Muskeln, Haut und Blut und Knochen und Sehnen’, das ist der
Ort, wo die Gefühle sein dürfen, nicht irgendwo anders. Jede Drillaktion ist wie ein Hinweis
darauf und jede ist danach strukturiert, ebenso wie die Strafaktionen. Nichts bleibt
2
162
undeutliches Gefühl, Wunsch, alles wird verwandelt in deutliche Wahrnehmung: der
Wunsch nach Körperwärme in die Wahrnehmung der Hitze des Körperschmerzes, der
Wunsch nach Berührung in die Wahrnehmung des Peitschenhiebes.
Und nach und nach akzeptiert der Körper die Schmerzeingriffe an seiner Peripherie
als Antwort auf sein Lustbegehren, Er nimmt sie als Befriedigungen. Er wird dem
Lustprinzip abspenstig gemacht, umgedrillt, reorganisiert zu einem Leib, den das
‘Schmerzprinzip’ beherrscht: schön ist, was weh tut . . . ” (THEWELEIT 1: 175).
8
In structuring her argument that “[. . .] women who wish for masculinity may put
on a mask of womanliness to avert anxiety and the retribution feared from men” (128),
RIVIERE references Ferenczi’s “The Nosology of Male Homosexuality” (1918): “The
difference between homosexual and heterosexual development results from differences in
the degree of anxiety, with the corresponding effect this has on development. Ferenczi
pointed out a similar reaction in behavior, namely, that homosexual men exaggerate their
heterosexuality as a “defense” against their homosexuality” (128, emphasis mine). I argue that
Hirschfeld equates heterosexuality with the public sphere and homosexuality with the private
sphere, and in order to gain entry into the public sphere (a “wish for masculinity” á la
Riviere), the homosexual must “wear the mask” of heterosexuality.
9
The topic of women and war has a long literary tradition: Brecht’s Mutter Courage
and Grimmelhausen’s Courage come to mind. The importance of prostitutes on the front in
order to prevent “latent” homosexuality from spreading (like disease) among the soldiers is a
theme in Toller’s Masse Mensch.
10
See THEWELEIT 2: 22-23.
11
HIRSCHFELD cites from the Nov. 2 1914 edition of “Die Welt am Montag”: “[. . .]
Ueber die Ursachen des Kriegsausbruchs liegen sich die Diplomaten der verschiedenen
Länder heftig in den Haaren. Und von den Bedrohern und Neidern des deutschen Aufstiegs
will’s keiner gewesen sein. Jetzt nun ist ihnen aber sogar bei uns im Lande ein frommer
Helfer erstanden, der uns die Schuld am Kriege unter die Nase reibt. Vor uns liegt das
Träktatchen eines Pastors Ernst Modersohn in Bad Blankenburg. Der Mann ruft dem
deutschen Volk zu: ‘Noch halten viele sich für unschuldig. Noch suchen viele die Schuld an
diesem Kriege in Rußland oder in Frankreich oder in London. Nein, w i r haben diesen Krieg
verschuldet, wir mit unserer Sünde!’ Und er belegt seine Behauptungen denn auch gleich mit einer
Liste unserer schlimmsten Sünden. An erster Stelle prangt da die Bewegung zwecks Aufhebung des §
175; an zweiter Stelle stehen ‘die schrecklichen Maßnahmen, die getroffen werden, um
Kindersegen zu verhüten’” (Vierteljahrsbericht Apr. 1915: 16-17, emphasis mine). The third
grievous sin was the prevailing “liberal” theology of Oberkirchenrat Pastor Modersohn that
tolerated the prior two “sins.”
Such moral rhetoric regarding homosexuality and war is not limited to this place and
time. U.S. Evangelist Jerry Falwell was quick to make the same argument in 2001, suggesting
that the 9/11 terrorist attacks were a punishment from God for the homosexual activity and
abortion that is “tolerated” in the United States. “‘I put all the blame legally and morally on
the actions of the terrorist,’ [Falwell] said. But he said that America’s ‘secular and antiChristian environment left us open to our Lord’s [decision] not to protect. When a nation
deserts God and expels God from the culture . . . the result is not good’”(HARRIS).
12 In total there are 99 letters in the 1915 and 1916 volumes of the Jahrbuch. Of these,
I would assign 18 to the first, 6 to the second, 11 to the third, 15 to the fourth, and 13 to the
fifth genre. The remaining letters are either death notices or notices that a soldier is missing
(9), letters that portray a typical war experience (20), or letters from readers (7).
13
163
In Männerphantasien 1 (1977), THEWELEIT’s classic study of male homosocial
networks within the German military, the reader is faced with many questions regarding the
construction not just of “man,” but of “the soldier.” According to Theweleit, just as men are
not born as “men,” one does not simply “become” a soldier. In both cases, the body must be
disciplined into obedience, and a conscious border must be drawn between the male body
and “all things feminine.” This is done on two levels. First, one’s individuality is erased as
one becomes “a part of the Machine” – the military machine. Sexual desire is transferred via
physical punishment to desire for pain; if this is achieved, the individual is accepted into the
whole: “Er wird selbst zum Teilchen der Maschine – so saust sie nicht mehr über ihn hin. Im
Moment, wo sie ihm nicht mehr äußerlich ist, er nicht mehr ihr Opfer, beginnt sie, ihn zu
schützen” (1: 172).
Secondly, the body of the soldier is objectified, segmented, and recast “in formation”
with one’s military company to create a new totality. Theweleit explains that “Das Bein des
Einzelnen hängt funktionell mehr mit dem Bein des Nebenmanns zusammen, als mit dem
Rumpf, an dem es sitzt. Dadurch entstehen innerhalb der Maschine neue Ganzheitsleiber,
die nicht mit einzelnen Leibern identisch sind” (1: 179). Important in the construction of the
soldier is not that the soldier is “masculine” or exhibits a “virile drive”—quite the opposite.
The ideal soldier is de-eroticized: his sexual drive is subjugated and transformed to the
production not only of the military Machine, but of the Nation.
14
VON BRAUN discusses this phenomenon: “[. . .] Klaus Theweleit has shown in
many examples—biographic as well as fictional—how fundamental the topos of the ‘female
sacrifice’ is for the concept of creativity and the artistic work in both the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries. However, what has thereby escaped Theweleit—and Elisabeth Bronfen
as well—is the fact that here it has to do with a specific Christian heritage, in which—in a
secularization shift—the self-sacrifice of the Savior is transformed into a self-sacrifice of the
woman, which is done out of love. The Christian sacrament, according to Jochen Hörisch, is
thereby ‘feminized’ and ‘eroticized.’ ‘In an odd concurrence, Goethe, Novalis, and de Sade
transcribe the story of the sacrifice of a godly son into the story of the sacrifice of women.’
This tradition supposedly remained a determining factor for many works of art in
modernity” (“Avant-Garde” 11).
15
In a “reverse-norming” fashion, NÄCKE addresses anal sex among homosexuals in
his 1904 article: “Die niederen Naturen ergeben sich vielleicht mehr der Päderastie [dem
Anal-Verkehr], im ganzen vielleicht nur bis 6 – 8% aller Homosexuellen, wie [in Merzbachs
“Homosexualität und Beruf.” Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen (1902): 187] angegeben wird.
Aber vergessen wir nicht, daß selbst der häßliche Akt per anum an sich kaum unästhetischer
ist, als der per vaginam!” (174).
16
For others, “self-discipline” meant just that: repressing any sexual urges. On
August 14, 1915, a soldier writes Hirschfeld: “[. . .] Ich tue still meine volle Pflicht und finde
mich in die gegebene Situation mit Würde. Irgendwelche sexuelle Regungen liegen mir völlig
fern. Die Strapazen drücken alles nieder. Es geht aber allen so. Auch hier im Felde, wenn die
Rede einmal auf homosexuelle Angelegenheiten kommt – und sie ist schon ein paar Mal
darauf gekommen – , kläre ich mit nötiger Vorsicht und Takt auf. Das ist das Gute, was
meine Strafe seiner Zeit gewirkt hat: völlige Freiheit in bezug auf meine Gedanken, kein
Versteckspiel, keine Komödie, Offenheit und Wahrhaftigkeit; dieser Gedanke und dieses
freie Gefühl ist erhebend und wirkt Wunder. [. . .] Nicht das äußere Kleid macht mich zum
gewöhnlichen Soldaten, der ich ja nun bin, sondern die innere Überzeugung, an der Stelle zu
stehen, wohin meine vaterländische Pflicht ruft” (Vierteljahrsbericht 15.3: 110-11).
17
164
Taken further, I would include with aesthetics cultural rituals that positively subvert
otherwise “base” drives. BLÜHER writes: “Freut man sich, etwa im Falle Wandervogel, auf
die Seite des Triebes, der als Lustprämie von der Idee mißbraucht wird, also auf die Seite der
invertierten Sexualität, so kann die ‘Sache’, also der gesamte gedankliche Inhalt der
Wandervogelidee nur als Rationalisierung dieses Triebes gelten. Diese gelingt nun niemals
vollständig, sondern es bleibt ein Rest, und er ist es, den man zu spüren bekommt, wenn man
in solche Männerbünde wirklich eindringt, d. h. bis in ihre männlichen Gesellschaften. Da
sich jener Rest nicht ganz versachlichen kann, zeigt er sich entweder als deutlich spürbare
Erotik oder als in transformierter Form als Zeremoniell. Und dies ist es, was die ‘Eigeweihten’,
die ‘Echten’ als das ‘eigentliche’ Wesen, ja sogar als den ‘Geist’ dieser Männerbünde
bezeichnen” (204).
18
BENJAMIN would write in 1930: “Es ist mehr als ein Kuriosum, es ist ein Symptom,
daß eine Schrift von 1930 [von Ernst Jünger] , die es mit ‘Krieg und Kriegern’ zu tun hat, an
all dem vorbeigeht. Symptom derselben knabenhaften Verschwärmtheit, die in einen Kultus,
eine Apotheose des Krieges mündet, als deren Verkünder hier vor allem von Schramm und
Günther auftreten. Diese neue Kriegstheorie, der ihre Herkunft aus der rabiatesten
Dekadenz an der Stirne geschrieben steht, ist nichts anderes als eine hemmungslose
Übertragung der Thesen des L’Art pour L’Art auf den Krieg” (240).
19
Published parallel to “Aus der Kriegszeit” in the 1915 and 1916 volumes of
Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen, “Frauen als Soldaten im Weltkriege” presents accounts of
women—on both sides—who fought either “openly” as women, or under the guise of being
a man. The purpose of these collections is to argue for the right of women to be active in
the army. Therefore, for Hirschfeld, it was not the “feminine” per se that is a “threat” to the
military “Machine”; “healthy” women are feminine, and “masculine” women—although
pathological—would, due to their masculinity, be suitable for service in the army. It is the
effeminate male—whose pathology is his femininity—who is not suitable for military service.
20
In his Sittengeschichte des Weltkrieges, HIRSCHFELD notes that “[w]ährend des Krieges
wurden über die Frage der Kriegsneurosen erbitterte Diskussionen geführt, deren
Nachklänge vielfach noch heute nicht verstummt sind. Jedermann kennt den Typus der
sogenannten Kriegszitterer oder Schüttler, lebendiger Dokumente der ‘großen Zeit’. Sie
bilden eine Gruppe der Kriegsneurotiker. Sie waren im Ersten Weltkriege massenhaft zu
sehen [. . .]” (348, 357).
21
Although not suitable for military duty, Hirschfeld suggests that such homosexuals,
due to their feminine nature, are better suited to serve as nurses with the Red Cross on the field.
Said homosexuals “[. . .] folgen damit instinktiv dem Beruf, dem, wie uns die Geschichte der
Homosexualität lehrt, Uranier namentlich bei Naturvölkern vielfach im Kriege oblagen”
(Vierteljahrsbericht Apr. 1915: 9-10).
22
Letters of this kind have always been of great interest to historians and deserve
further research for their literary qualities. At the time of World War I and shortly thereafter,
collections of letters of German students who had gone to war were often collected and
published. See WITKOP, Kriegsbriefe deutscher Studenten and Kriegsbriefe gefallener Studenten. Erotic
letters dating from World War II between a German soldier on the field and his wife at
home were on display in 2001 at the Sex [. . .] exhibit (see SEX). In any event, Hirschfeld
writes that many correspondences ended sadly upon the death of the soldier on the field:
“Trauerbotschaften, daß der Krieg die innigsten Freundschaften trennt und der
Schlachtentod den Freund vom Herzen des Freundes reißt, empfangen wir zahlreich”
(Vierteljahrsbericht 16.4: 164).
23
165
“Im Eigenen, der vom erstem Jahrgang an Gedichte und vom zweiten Jahrgang an
erzählende Prosa veröffentlichte, erhielt Literaturkritik im engeren Sinne früh einen festen
Platz. Schon im ersten Jahrgang taucht der Name der langjährigen Rezensionsrubrik ‘Bücher
und Menschen’ auf. Rezensiert wurde im Laufe der Jahre u. a. Dehmel, Bierbaum, Brecht,
Trakl und Hille, Holz, Schlaf, Mackay und Musil, Frank Thieß, Ernst Toller, Klaus Mann
und Bruno Vogel” (KEILSON-LAURITZ 167).
24
JONES provides further information about Bruno Vogel and an analysis of Alf in
his dissertation “The ‘Third Sex’ [. . .],” 648-69. “‘n’”
KEILSON-LAURITZ categorizes the works of writers such as Bruno Vogel as “schwule
Klassiker” within the accepted German literary canon: “Als subkulturelle ‘schwule Klassiker’
bezeichne ich Texte, die in der schwulen Subkultur – und nur dort – die Rolle eines ‘Klassikers’ spielen.
Der Umstand, daß die folgende Auswahl sich auf deutschsprachige Texte beschränkt, kann
als Hinweis darauf gelesen werden, daß im subkulturellen Bereich die nationalen Grenzen
sich deutlicher manifestieren, wobei die mangelhafte Verfügbarkeit von Übersetzungen eine
wichtige Rolle spielt. Zum Teil handelt es sich um historisch kurzlebige Texte, die immer wieder neu in
das Bewußtsein der schwulen Leserschaft gehoben werden (müssen). Als ‘schwule Klassiker’ in diesem
Sinne lassen sich ‘Die Bücher der namenlosen Liebe’ von Sagitta/Mackay und die pazifistischaufklärerischen Texte von Bruno Vogel (seinerseits Rezensent in den Mitteilungen wie auch im Eigenen)
bezeichnen” (198, emphasis mine).
KEILSON-LAURITZ provides following bibliography for reviews by Bruno Vogel:
“Bringt uns wirklich der Klapperstorch? (Eros 177, S. 106 f.). Zur Indizierung von zwei Schriften
von Max Hodann. Das Problem (Eros 2/3, S. 23). Wo zwei sich lieben – wo ist da ein Problem?
Tragödie (Eros 2/5, S. 58-60). Über Bildungschancen. Rezensiert u. a. EWERS, [Roman
Fundvogel (1928)], GIDE [‘Stirb und werde’ (Stuttgart 1930). Mitteilungen 27 (1930), S. 267 f.];
MEYER-ECKART [‘Die Gemme. Novellen’ (Jena). Mitteilungen 26 (1929/1930), S. 244 f.],
LAMPEL [“Verrantene Junigen [sic] ’ (Frankfurt am Main). Mitteilungen 29 (1929/1930), S.
244 f.], RAUSCH, SIEMSEN [‘Verbotene Liebe. Briefe eines Unbekannten’ (Berlin [1927]).
Mitteilungen 7 (1927), S. 56.], Walther VICTOR[‘ Einer von Berlin’ (Berlin 1930). Der Eigene
13 (1931) 3, S. 92.], WESTON, WINDER” (473).
25
“Felix” is of course Latin for “loyalty,” a quality of a true comrade.
26
JONES comments that the relationship between Jan and Brugkhein is homosexual
in nature: “Although Vogel never labels their relationship as such, he provides indications of
its homosexual nature within the text and the careful reader can draw his own conclusion.”
(“The ‘Third Sex’” 658). Jones bases this reading largely on a comment made by “ [. . .] eine
häßliche Hallelujah-Hexe aus dem Hinterhaus [. . .], daß Jan gar nicht der Sohn von dem
Brugkhein sei.” (VOGEL 106). The strongly negative reaction of Felix’s father to his visiting
these neighbors (118) also supports Jones’s reading.
27
Alf is particularly reminiscent of Wedekind’s Frühlings Erwachen not only in Vogel’s
portrayal of the parents’ clumsy attempts to “protect” their children from their own
sexuality, but also in Vogel’s portrayal of the teachers at the Gymnasium, who are basically
figures of ridicule: “Das Personal der Obertertia B – ‘Personal’ war die bei den Schülern
übliche Bezeichnung für Lehrkörper – bestand aus den folgenden Herren: Klassenlehrer war
der Bietsch, ein feiges Sadistchen. Er gehört zu den dümmsten Menschen, denen Felix je in
seinem Leben begegnete. Seine größte Seligkeit war, Schüler bei etwas zu erwischen und zu
bestrafen [. . .]” (132-33). After learning that masturbation is not unhealthy, Felix ends his
self-torture and therewith improves his performance at school. The director of the school
congratulates Herr Braun, while both agree that Felix is “ein komischer Kerl” (116). The
166
narrator criticizes the adults’ behavior: “Auf die beachtlich naheliegende Idee, sich selber
komisch zu finden, kamen die beiden Herren nicht. Doch auf so vernünftige Ideen kommen
Erziehungsberechtigte im allgemeinen nur sehr selten” (116-17). As an additional project, I
intend to analyze Bruno Vogel’s Alf in terms of Bildungsliteratur of the time, including works
by Rainer Maria Rilke, Heinrich Mann, Frank Wedekind, and Robert Musil. See MIX.
28
“Der Jurist und Schriftsteller Kurt Hiller (* 17. August 1885 in Berlin, † 1.
Oktober 1972 in Hamburg) gehörte von 1908 an bis zu Hirschfelds Emigration zu dessen
engen Vertrauten und Mitarbeitern, ohne jedoch manche Vorbehalte gegen Hirschfelds
Sexualtheorie aufzugeben [. . .]” (HERZER, Magnus 256).
29
I would like to thank DR. BIRGIT DAHLKE and the members of the
Literaturwissenschaftliches Kolloquium zur Männlichkeitsforschung (SoSe 2002, Humboldt University,
Berlin), who offered a forum in which to discuss and more clearly define such terms as
“Männlichkeitsnarrativ” and “männliches Narrativ” as discussed by ERHART.
30
KEILSON-LAURITZ remarks that “[i]n den Mitteilungen des WhK findet sich der
Trend zur Männlichkeit vor allem bei Bruno Vogel, der wie [Numa] Praetorius [the main
reviewer of the Journal] Klarheit und Eindeutigkeit bevorzugt, zugleich aber auch ‘herbe
Strenge’ und ‘Gemessenheit’; alles, was ‘undeutlich von Eros und Hellas murmelt’ [. . .], was
‘müde’ ist und ‘matt’, wird samt den ‘Mätzchen’ der ‘Literaturmännchen’ [. . .] erbarmungslos
abgeschrieben” (258). Praetorius did not consider Alf to be a work of Naturalism, “[. . .]
womit er inhaltlich die Darstellung von Homosexualität als Laster verbunden sieht [. . .].
Dem stellt er als Ideal die ‘ruhige Zeichnung eines Urnings’ [. . .] gegenüber, d. h. einen
unaufgeregten und wo nicht liebevollen, so doch auch nicht feindseligen Realismus und
einen letztlich eher an klassischen Vorbildern als an der Romantik orientierten idealen
Literaturtyp” (246). ‘n’
31
“ [. . .] Positiv wertet [Numa] Praetorius ‘durchgeführte Handlung’, ‘Einheit in der
Motivation’, ‘Geschlossenheit des Aufbaus’, ‘harmonische Komposition’. Er besteht auf
‘Abgerundet’-Sein, ‘Klarheit des Gedankens’ und ‘Prägnanz’, preist Sprache und Darstellung
als ‘schlicht’, ‘klar und einfach’, ‘concis’, ‘präcis’, ‘wohllautend’, ‘harmonisch’, ‘klassisch
schön’; dabei sind positive Wertungen wie ‘sicherer Strich’, ‘sorgfältig und fein gezeichnet’,
‘vollendeter Stil’, ‘feinfarbig’, ‘einfach-ruhige Zeichnung’ auffällig der bildenden Kunst entnommen.
Das könnte man für Praetorius‘ individuellen Kunstgeschmack halten, fände sich nicht die
Forderung nach Klarheit und Deutlichkeit auch bei fast allen übrigen Rezensenten, selbst bei
so unterschiedlichen wie Peter Hamecher und Bruno Vogel” (KEILSON-LAURITZ 247,
emphasis mine). The aforementioned statements support my thesis of a “modernist
homosexual aesthetic,” which I largely discuss and define in ch. 2. “Positive” (and I would
add, self-determining) visual (ch. 2) and literary (ch. 3) representations of male homosexuals by
male homosexuals not only share these aesthetic qualities, but they also define and shape one
another as well.
32
In Sittengeschichte des Weltkrieges HIRSCHFELD and co-editor GASPAR dedicate a
chapter to “Die Verwundeten und Kranken”: “Viereinhalb Jahre lang mahlte und malmte die
Kriegsmaschine, unaufhörlich nach Futter aus lebendem Menschenfleische verlangend. Die
in ihre unbarmherzigen Räder gerieten, wurden getötet, verkrüppelt oder vollkommen
zermürbt. Nur wenigen war es vergönnt, eine Zeitlang im Stahlbad zu nehmen. Auch an
diesen Kriegsopfern darf eine Sittengeschichte des Weltkrieges nicht vorbeigehen, da das
Problem der Kriegsverstümmelungen und Kriegsbeschädigungen, wie es im nächsten gezeigt
werden soll, vielfach mit Fragen des Sexuallebens verwoben ist” (341). Of greatest interest to
the sexologists were “[. . .] Hodenschüsse, sodann auch Rückenmarksverletzungen, die
167
naturgemäß mit einem völligen Ausfall der Geschlechtsfunktionen einhergehen“ (341). See
Sittengeschichte 341-66.
33
Writing in the same year as Alf was published, WENIGER analyses the fallacy of one
true “front generation” and war story: “[Die] politische Frage, seit dem Kriege unaufhörlich
erörtert, heute im Jahre 1929 noch einmal entscheidend gestellt, geht um das ‘Eingreifen der
Frontgeneration’ in die politischen und geistigen Geschicke der Nation. [. . .] Es ist nun aber
nicht sicher, ob es in diesem Sinne eine Frontgeneration und eine geschlossene
Stellungnahme der Front zu den Aufgaben des Tages gibt, die wirklich eindeutig ist” (3).
Regarding the mass of war literature that had appeared in the ten years following the war
ranging from Remarque to Jünger, he writes: “Das Ergebnis ist, daß in der Breite eine ‘fausse
reconnaissance’ vorhanden ist, der gegenüber man fragen muß, ob es überhaupt eine echte
Erinnerung an den Krieg gibt und wie man zu dieser gelangen kann” (5).
34
Felix’s letter is also openly anti-Semitic; he writes Alf that “[a]usgerechnet aus
Jerusalem hat man einen neuen Klassen-‘Kameraden’ importiert [. . .]” (201). Felix
consciously marks the new classmate as the ultimate outsider in order to protect himself
from further isolation. The quotation marks surrounding “comrade” stresses Felix’s ironic
tone, and his suggestion that the classmate was “imported” stresses the assumption that the
classmate does not belong in Germany. The classmates nickname the student “‘Kamerad
Habakuk aus Jehuscholajim’” (202), and Felix states that the classmate is a cheat, swindler,
and hypocrite (202). This passage deserves further research in order to determine why Bruno
Vogel chose to include it, and if his relationship with Magnus Hirschfeld had any relation to
this decision.
35
Based on the reviews of Alf in the various contemporary homosexual journals,
readers of the time—especially younger readers—certainly took note of this strong
emancipative tone: “Während ‘Ein Gulasch’ [von Bruno Vogel] im Umkreis des Eigenen
keinen Niederschlag fand, wurde Vogels kleiner Roman ‘Alf’ (1929) nicht nur in den WhKMitteilungen verschiedentlich angezeigt [. . .], sondern auch im Eigenen einer DoppelRezension gewürdigt. Zumindest die erste dieser Rezensionen [. . .] entstammt der jungen
Generation und preist den Autor, weil er ‘uns Jungen sein Versprechen gehalten’ habe. Für
diese Generation (oder doch für diesen Rezensenten) ist die Spannung zwischen ‘Dichtung’
und ‘Kampf’, wie sie die Auseinandersetzung von Praetorius mit der von Hanns Fuchs
propagierten ‘Kampfliteratur’ [. . .] geprägt hatte, nicht mehr relevant: Dichter sein ‘heißt
[. . .] auch Kämpfer sein’. ‘Und’, schließt der Rezensent, ‘nur solche Dichter [will sagen:
Kämpfer] sind wirklich die ehrlichen Gefährten der Jugend in ihrem Ringen um eine neue
bessere Welt’” (KEILSON-LAURITZ 209).
36
Albeit from a late modernist perspective, Rosa von Praunheim enunciates this
sentiment in 1971 (§ 175 had been repealed only two years prior) when commenting on his
1970 film Nicht der Homosexuelle ist pervers, sondern die Situation, in der er lebt : “‘Im besten Fall
kann man heute schwul sein, wenn man nett und angepaßt ist. Wir haben aber das
verdammte Recht darauf, die Lebensformen zu verwirklichen, die uns gerecht werden. Wir
wollen keinen verlogenen Anpassungsfilm machen’” (qtd. in PFLAUM 64-65).
37
HIRSCHFELD avails himself of German Classical literature to stress the
senselessness of war: “Möchte man nicht, wenn man täglich hört, liest und sieht, wie dieser
grausame Vernichtungskrieg, Trauer und Schrecken verbreitend, Leben, Güter und Werte
zerstört, mit Schiller (Braut von Messina, III, 5) ausrufen: ‘Was sind Hoffnungen, was sind
Entwürfe / Die der Mensch, der vergängliche, baut? / Heute umarmt ihr euch als Brüder, /
168
Einig gestimmt mit Herzen und Munde, / Diese Sonne, die jetzo nieder / Geht, sie leuchtete
eurem Bunde! / Und jetzt liegst du, dem Staube vermählt, / Von des Brudermords Händen
entseelt, / In dem Busen die gräßliche Wunde! / Was sind Hoffnungen, was sind Entwürfe,
/ Die der Mensch, der flüchtige Sohn der Stunde, / Aufbaut auf dem betrüglichen
Grunde?’” (Vierteljahrsberichte Apr. 1915: 27-28).
38
JÜNGER simultaneously admits and recants that he exhibited weak nerves, or, as I
would suggest, “effeminacy”: “Ich will offen gestehen, daß mich meine Nerven restlos im
Stiche ließen. Nur fort, weiter, weiter! Rücksichtslos rannte ich alles über den Haufen. Ich
bin kein Freund des Euphemismus: Nervenzusammenbruch. Ich hatte ganz einfach Angst,
blasse, sinnlose Angst. Ich habe später noch oft kopfschüttelnd an jene Momente
zurückgedacht” (15).
39
Vogel’s portrayal of Alf mourning the death of his “enemy” makes Alf—to the
sympathetic reader—more noble than the average [heterosexual] soldier. In his
“Zeitgemäßes über Krieg und Tod,” FREUD writes: “Das erste und bedeutsamste Verbot des
erwachsenen Gewissens lautete: Du sollst nicht töten. Es war als Reaktion gegen die hinter
der Trauer versteckte Haßbefriedigung am geliebten Toten gewonnen worden und wurde
allmählich auf den ungeliebten Fremden und endlich auch auf den Feind ausgedehnt. An
letzterer Stelle wird es vom Kulturmenschen nicht mehr verspürt. Wenn das wilde Ringen
dieses Krieges seine Entscheidung gefunden hat, wird jeder der siegreichen Kämpfer froh in
sein Heim zurückkehren, zu seinem Weibe und Kindern, unverweilt und ungestört durch
Gedanken an die Feinde, die er im Nahkampfe oder durch die fernwirkende Waffe getötet
hat” (349).
40
From In Stahlgewittern: “Die Minen krachen ganz anders, viel aufregender als die
Granaten. Sie haben überhaupt so etwas Reißendes, Hinterlistiges, etwas von persönlicher
Gehässigkeit. Es sind heimtückische Wesen” (JÜNGER, 22). This is but one of many
references to grenades and mines in In Stahlgewittern: JÜNGER personifies and presents these
weapons more like characters in a screenplay.
41
Freud and his colleagues did not differentiate between “Friedens- und
Kriegsneurosen” (FERENCZI 19). Among others, FERENCZI asked himself, “[. . .] ob man
nach diesen Erfahrungen bei Kriegsneurosen die psychoanalytischen Anschauungsweise
nicht auch bei der Erklärung der uns vom Frieden her bekannten, gewöhnlichen Neurosen
und Psychosen verwerten kann. Die Spezifizität des Kriegstraumas wird ja einstimmig
geleugnet [. . .]” (19).
42
Felix provides the following history of § 175: “Als nach dem Krieg von 1870/71
für das Deutsche Reich ein neues Strafgesetzbuch geschaffen wurde, forderte der damalige
Justizminister Leonhardt von den Aerzten [sic] Rudolf Virchow und B. v. Langenbeck ein
Gutachten darüber, ob irgendwelche Gründe beständen, sexuelle Handlungen zwischen
geschlechtsreifen Personen männlichen Geschlechts zu bestrafen. Die abgegebenen
Gutachten sprachen sich entschieden gegen jede Bestrafung aus, daraufhin strich der
Justizminister den betreffenden Paragraphen. Die Kaiserin aber, die an religiösem Wahnsinn
litt, wünschte, daß homosexuelle Handlungen bestraft würden, weil der Apostel Paulus sich
einmal abfällig darüber geäußert hatte! Sie steckte sich hinter den Kultusminister v. Mühler,
der als Dichter des Lieds ‘Grad aus dem Wirthaus komm ich heraus’ bekannt ist. Dieser Poet
des Suffs, dem es ein ‘bedenkliches Wagstück schien, nüchtern zu sein’, setzte den § 175
durch! So kommen Gesetze zustande!!” (242-43).
43
This is more than likely FREUD, “Die Verdrängung.”
44
169
I have already mentioned that Hirschfeld stepped down as chairperson of the WhK
in 1929, the same year that Bruno Vogel became a member. The reason for this had to do
with a failed petition in the Reichstag (see ch. 4, p. 177). Just the same, Vogel’s citation of
Hirschfeld shows that by 1929, Hirschfeld had become an established and yet often disputed
part of the German homosexual literary canon and culture.
45
The Expressionist father-son conflict and the son’s subsequent self-determination
as the “Neuer Mensch” often presupposed the death of the father, as in Sorge’s Der Bettler.
Here, it is more important in the process of male [homosexual] self-determination that Herr
Braun recognizes Felix’s autonomy and that Herr Braun simply “withdraws” from the
conflict. After all, Herr Braun had suspected “the worse” of Alf and of Felix. Shortly after
Alf and Felix fall in love, Herr Braun says to Frau Braun: “Ich kann mir nicht helfn [sic], mir
kommt das manchmal so vor, als wenn mit dem Maartens und unserm Jung ooch . . .” (155).
The ellipsis signify the “unspeakable”: a homosexual relationship. If his son were
homosexual and therefore not masculine, that could pose a “threat” to Herr Braun’s own
masculinity—something with which Herr Braun could not live: “Jedenfalls, das kann ich dir
sagen: Wenn ich einmal erfahren würde, daß da mit dem Felix und dem Maartens was los ist
– ich bringe mich um! . . .” (155-56).
170
Chapter 4
“Tales from the City”: Defining Identity via Homosexual topoi.
Berlin 1919: The Changing Role of the Großstadt in the Self-Determination of the Male Homosexual
Whereas Berlin had served as a relatively safe oasis for German homosexuals before 1914,
post-World War I Berlin would become a defining “topographical moment” for homosexual
self-determination. As evidenced by Hirschfeld’s Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, the homosexual is
not only defined by his orientation and gender performance, as in the case of the
“effeminate” homosexual and the “masculine” soldier, but also, the sphere to which one is
assigned. The private domestic sphere, traditionally the domain of the woman, is the sphere
of the homosexual. The public sphere remains the sphere of the “masculine” male, as in the
traditional patriarchal gender structure. However, as indicated in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht,
there were also those spaces (topoi) outside of the home where homosexuals gathered and
gradually developed their own subculture. This was already the case before the First World
War. In the post-War period, male and female homosexuals made the best of the political
and economic instability in order to develop their own space and culture in the new liberal
climate. These topoi, namely Berlin and its homosexual spaces, and their role in developing
homosexual identities via a modernist homosexual aesthetic are the focus of this chapter.
In 1919, three major events occurred in Berlin that would move respectable
homosexuals a step closer to the mainstream, “normal” center of heterosexual society. The
first of these events was the premiere of Anders als die Andern “[. . .] on the afternoon of
Saturday, 24 May 1919, at the Apollo-Theater in Berlin after an introductory address by
Hirschfeld” (Steakley, “Cinema” 188). Anders als die Andern was, in keeping with Hirschfeld’s
scientific and political programs, a film meant to enlighten persons of “normal sexual
orientation” about the plight of the homosexual under § 175. The film tells the story of Paul
Defining Identity via Homosexual topoi
171
Körner (played by Conrad Veidt), a respectable, renowned violinist. After an incident with
blackmailer Franz Bollek (played by Reinhold Schünzel) leads to the unveiling of Körner’s
homosexuality, his exclusion from social and professional circles, and the ruin of his career,
Körner takes his own life. Truly, one of Hirschfeld’s strongest arguments against § 175 was
that it “protected” blackmailers:
[E]s ist nicht die Homosexualität, sondern die Strafbarkeit irgend welcher
Betätigung, welche diesen Erpressern das Gewerbe möglich macht. Der
Paragraph 175 war nicht mehr und nicht weniger als der gesetzliche
Berufsschutz für Erpresser geworden, und es hat sich gezeigt, daß mit der
prinzipiell mildern Behandlung auch das Erpressertum zurückgegangen ist”
(Hirschfeld, Geschlecht 320-21).
Hirschfeld had addressed this issue in 1904 in his book Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, but via the
medium of film, Anders als die Andern provided larger audiences with an actual picture of the
Third Sex. Today’s critics offer varying interpretations of the portrayal of the Third Sex,
debating if the hero or the villain represented the Third Sex. In response to these competing
analyses, Steakley poses the following question:
Is it begging the question to propose that both characters – villain and victim
alike – may be seen as sexual intermediaries, whose contrary temperaments
serve precisely to confound unitary notions of ‘the’ homosexual? [. . .]
[S]exual intermediacy is portrayed most vividly not by the film’s dance scenes
depicting anonymous members of the third sex. It is noteworthy that it was
not the image of either Körner or Bollek but the first of these dance scenes
which precipitated a riot in one Berlin cinema in 1919 [. . .]. (“Cinema” 195).
It is not my intent to provide a detailed analysis of Anders als die Andern,1 but to merely point
out the importance of the film within the greater visual realization of the Third Sex and in its
emancipation.2 In contrast to photographic journals such as Die Insel, Die Freundschaft, and
Der Eigene, Anders als die Andern was directed at a much larger—and largely heterosexual—
audience. That such images of the Third Sex provoked a riot (and were quickly censored)
points to the revolutionary nature of this film, which Steakley cites as “[. . .] arguably the first
feature film with an explicitly homosexual theme made anywhere in the world” (“Cinema”
172
181). The film also stimulated the visual imagination of both hetero- and homosexuals with
images of the “good” homosexual and the “bad” homosexual, portrayed here as a
blackmailer.
Almost exactly two months after the premiere of Anders als die Andern, the Institut für
Sexualwissenschaft opened on July 6, 1919 at In den Zelten Nr. 9a and 10 in Berlin-Tiergarten.
This event was the realization of Hirschfeld’s dream, expressed in his motto “per scientiam ad
justitiam.” Hirschfeld described this in a retrospective that appeared in the first issue of Die
Aufklärung in 1929:
Denn wie der Geburtstag eines Menschen schon die zweite Etappe seiner
Entwicklung darstellt, der die Zeugung und das vorgeburtliche Leben der
Frucht vorgegangen sind, so ist der 6. Juli 1919 auch nur der Tag, an dem
sich eine Idee verwirklichte, die sich schon lange vorher, nämlich 1896, in
meinen Tagebuchaufzeichnung findet, in einer Zeit also, in der die
Sexualwissenschaft noch nicht einmal als Name bekannt war. (qtd. in Herrn,
“Einleitung” 2)
Scholars including Rainer Herrn and James Steakley have stressed the optimism that the
post-War period instilled in Hirschfeld. With the November Revolution and the rise of a
socialist Russia, Hirschfeld felt that the idea of a socialist Germany would soon be a reality.
For Hirschfeld, a German Republic would mean recognition and integration of sexology into
society via the Institute. The Institute was a “child of the Revolution” on two levels. On the
one hand, the November Revolution made it possible for Hirschfeld to purchase the
Institute building which was once property of the royalty:
Aber noch in anderem Sinne möchte ich das Institut ein Kind der Revolution
nennen, und zwar ein Kind der großen geistigen Revolution, die bereits
einige Jahrzehnte vor dem 9. November 1918 begann und auch sicherlich
noch einige Jahrzehnte währen wird, bis sie als abgeschlossen angesehen
werden kann. (qtd. in Herrn, “Einleitung” 2)
Of interest here is that the Institute established a scientific [medical] topos that was dedicated
largely to the advancement of homosexuals, intersexuals, and other persons who had been
173
marginalized due to their sex, their sexual orientation, or their alternative gender
performance. Further, researchers who were civil servants (mostly professors of psychiatry
and forensic medicine who also researched human sexuality) worked in the Institute.
(Herzer, Magnus 203) Although this was more the exception to the rule in the field of
sexology and in the Institute, the presence of civil servants denotes State recognition of the
Institute, albeit to a limited degree. In terms of discourse and topography, the Institute was
that topos in Germany that marked the intersection of progressive legal and medical discourses
on homosexuality, both serving to emancipate and provide legal protection for the
homosexual.3
Hirschfeld was not the only homosexual rights advocate who was encouraged by the
November Revolution. Starting in late September 1919, the Berliner Freundschaftsbund e.V. was
founded. This group was different from the WhK and the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen in that its
members were not scholars or aesthetes, but rather middle- and lower class workers.4 In
1920, this group joined other such associations in Hamburg, Frankfurt, and Stuttgart to form
the Deutschen Freundschaftsverband (DFV). Eight associations met at the first Verbandstag in
early March 1921 in Kassel (Baumgardt 38). Manfred Baumgardt sees the impetus for the
rapid establishment of these homosexual organizations “[. . .] einerseits in der Politisierung
durch die Novemberrevolution, andererseits waren es die enttäuschten Hoffnungen auf eine
rasche Beseitigung des § 175 sowie das Wiederaufleben der Zensur (z.B. Verbot des Films
‘Anders als die Andern’)” (39). At the second Verbandstag of the DFV in Hamburg in April
1922, the DFV renamed itself as the Bund für Menschenrecht e.V. (BfM) and defined its
demands and goals:
1. Kampf für die Abschaffung des Paragraphen. 2. Kampf gegen die
gesellschaftliche Ächtung der Homoeroten. 3. Kampf gegen Erpresser und
Ausbeuter. 4. Vollständiger kostenloser Rechtsbeistand. (qtd. in Baumgardt
39).
174
References to such organizations in popular literature of the time indicate that not only
homosexuals, but also the larger Berlin community took notice of such groups. Out of
curiosity, Franz Biberkopf visits a meeting of one such group in Döblin’s Berlin
Alexanderplatz:
“Und dann haben wir hier die Frauenliebe und die Freundschaft, und die
quatschen nicht, die kämpfen. Jawoll, für Menschenrechte.” “Wo fehlt’s
denen denn?” “Paragraph 175, wenn dus noch nicht weißt.” Ist heute grade
ein Vortrag in der Landesberger Straße, Alexanderpalais, da könnte Franz
was hören über das Unrecht, das einer Million Menschen täglich in
Deutschland geschieht. [. . .] Was soll ich eigentlich da, geh ich wirklich hin,
ob das ein Geschäft mit sonen Zeitschriften ist. Die schwulen Buben: das
packt er mir nu auf, das soll ich nach Hause tragen und lesen. Leid können
einem ja die Jungs tun, aber eigentlich gehen sie mir nichts an. (76)
Indeed, such advertisements for the meetings of the BfM appear in homosexual journals (fig.
1). Like Hirschfeld and the WhK, the main goal of the BfM was the repeal of § 175. Not only
this, but the BfM—like Hirschfeld and the WhK—included an end to blackmailers in the
struggle against § 175. In a further step toward self-determination and inclusion within
society, homosexuals chose to define their respectability vis-à-vis the illegal behavior of a
sub-group of the homosexual subculture, namely those male prostitutes who were
blackmailers. Now not only gender performance would define a homosexual’s respectability
within society at large, but one’s class and the places that one frequented would define
his/her respectability within the homosexual subculture. The successful self-determination
of the “respectable” homosexual would only occur at the expense of the “fallen”
homosexual.
Excursus: Hirschfeld’s Third Sex—Subject to Morality, Law, or Science?
After the initial euphoria surrounding the events in 1919, Hirschfeld’s optimism for change
began to fade. In 1926, Hirschfeld had a disappointing visit in Russia, during which
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Fig. 27. Alexanderpalais—Bund für Menschenrecht. Advertisement. Die Insel 2.6 (1927): 30.
176
Hirschfeld realized that a socialist Russia did not mean a more socially progressive Russia—
especially in terms of homosexuality (Herzer, Magnus 83). In 1929, the Strafrechtsausschuss of
the Reichstag recommended a reform of the German Homosexuellenstrafrecht that did not take
the form of what Hirschfeld had demanded in his petition, but rather a simultaneously
relaxed and strengthened that which the law had once stated (Herzer, Magnus 147).5: Herzer
explains:
So sollte zwar der schwule Sex zwischen Männern, die älter als 21 Jahren
waren, künftig straffrei sein, doch beschloss man einen § 297, der völlig neue
Straftatbestände schuf und “Gefängnis nicht unter 6 Monaten” für “schwere
Unzucht zwischen Männern” vorsah. Damit sollte künftig homosexuelle
Prostitution, Sex mit einem “männlichen Minderjährigen” und “Missbrauch”
von Abhängigen im Dienst- und Arbeitsverhältnis als neue Verbrechen
definiert werden. Ferner war vorgesehen, nicht mehr nur “beischlafähnliche
Handlungen”, sondern auch die von Gesetz und Rechtsprechung bisher
ignorierte gegenseitige Onanie und sogar leidenschaftliche Küsse als
“schwere Unzucht” zu bestrafen, wenn einer der beteiligten Männer jünger
als 21 Jahre war. (Magnus 147).
In his 1930 study Geschlecht und Verbrechen,6 Hirschfeld laments this reactionary
recommendation of the Strafrechtsausschuss. The second section of Geschlecht und Verbrechen,
entitled “Die modernen Sexualdelikte im Kampf mit der Strafrechtsgestaltung,” begins with the
following words:
Wir leben in einem Zeitalter der Sexualaufklärung. Vor zwanzig Jahren noch
galt es als anrüchig, sich wissenschaftlich mit sexuellen Dingen zu befassen
und auch die ernsthaftesten Forschungsschriften wurden unerbittlich selbst
in wissenschaftlichen Bibliotheken sekretiert. Auf die Strafrechtsgestaltung
hatte, da wir keine neuen und ganz modernen Strafrechtskodifikationen
besitzen, sich die neue Wissenschaft naturgemäß noch nicht ausgewirkt.
(183)
Hirschfeld sharply criticizes the proposed code. He parodies it as if it only proves to the
world the extent to which Germans are so sexually immoral: existing laws must be
reinforced with even more laws in order to keep the German populace “[. . .] noch in
Schranken einer gewissen Wohlanständigkeit [. . .]” (183). Had the lawmakers only worked
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together with experts in the field of sexual science (namely Hirschfeld), it would have been
obvious that additional laws—let alone the existing laws—were not only superfluous but
unfounded. “Über die Natürlichkeit oder Unnatürlichkeit zu entscheiden, ist nicht Sache des
Rechts und nicht Sache der Kirche, sondern einzig und allein Sache der Wissenschaft”
(Hirschfeld, Geschlecht 313).
In light of this event in 1929, it is clear to Hirschfeld that after thirty years of work, his
scientific-political agenda has failed. He does not place the blame for this with the sexual
scientists, but rather with the Germans’ inability to separate “moral” from “scientific” issues:
Unzweifelhaft ist der Rahmen der Sexualdelikte auf der einen Seite zu weit
(Lustmord, Notzucht), auf der anderen zu eng gefaßt worden, weil man die
Kriminalistik und im Strafrechte bisher geschlechtliche Dinge so gut wie
immer traditionell als verpönt betrachtete und jede Forschung darin ablehnte.
Das Sexualstrafrecht w a r und i s t noch rein dogmatisch.
Einbrüche, welche medizinische Erkenntniswissenschaft in die praktische
Rechtsgestaltung gemacht hat, haben bis jetzt noch nicht zur
Dogmenänderung geführt, sondern erst ein unerquickliches Kampfstudium
herbeigeführt, das zu einer eminenten Rechtsunsicherheit geführt hat.
(Geschlecht 185)
If the church—and therefore society—determines that homosexual acts between men were
immoral and thus illegal, what exactly is the position of the sexologists, as represented by
Hirschfeld? Almost twenty-five years after the publication of Geschlechts-Übergänge (see ch. 1),
Hirschfeld still maintains that the Third Sex is natural, but not normal:
Wir sind weit davon entfernt, die Homosexualität als einen normalen und
glücklichen Zustand zu erklären und sehen kein Glück darin, ihn auch noch
dadurch zu vermehren, daß wir die Homosexuellen zur Fortpflanzung
zwingen, indem wir sie vor der Wahl stellen: entweder heirate oder werde
Karmeliter. Und wenn du nicht Karmeliter sein willst, dann werde
Zuchthäusler. Woher nehmen wir die rechtlichen Grundlagen dazu?
(Geschlecht 310).
As he has done for thirty years, Hirschfeld argues that the State cannot penalize a person
solely on his/her psycho-physiological makeup. Here, Hirschfeld takes his case a step
further, suggesting that by criminalizing same-sex behavior and sanctioning marriage only
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between man and woman, the State and the Church are responsible for the “propagation” of
homosexuality. It would seem to the reader that Hirschfeld suggests that one’s sexual
orientation were one’s own business, and should certainly not be subject to legal and
theological discourses:
Es wäre vollkommen irrig, anzunehmen, daß, wenn man Homosexuelle
durch Sexualsperre in die Ehe hineinjagen würde, sie dort geheilt würden, im
Gegenteil, die Eugenik muß fordern, daß Homosexuelle ihre Veranlagung
nicht zu vererben suchen sollen. Man kann sie aber auch nicht prinzipiell
asexualisieren und ihnen die Berechtigung als Sexualwesen benehmen,
sondern muß suchen, ihren Verkehr in unschädliche Bahnen zu leiten.
(Geschlecht 320).
If homosexuality were not a legal or theological issue, it most certainly is a medical issue: not
just a question of sexology, but also—and perhaps more importantly—a question of
eugenics. Although the homosexual and his/her sex drive are offensive, much like “Lepröse
in ihre[n] Isolationssiedlungen” (313) and “die Krüppel” (320), if entrusted to the hands of
Medicine and Science, s/he could do no harm to society at large:
Ich halte es aber auch durchaus für möglich, daß die Homosexualität
zurückgehen wird, wenn das Sexualleben des Volkes auf Grund unserer
modernen wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnisse reformiert und die
Individualsexualität mehr respektiert wird. Wenn das sexuelle
Selbstbestimmungsrecht sich von der Kirchensklaverei des Askesedogmas
freigemacht und nach biologisch-eugenischen Grundsätzen ausgelebt wird.
(Geschlecht 313)
Therefore, in an ideal German society, even if the homosexual were emancipated from
church dogma and from the moral standards of the bourgeoisie, s/he would remain subject
to his/her “emancipator”: the science of sexology. However, as evidenced by novels such as
Bruno Vogel’s Alf, it is questionable that by 1929 homosexuals are compelled to accept the
norm. Rather, as individuals and within organizations, homosexuals criticize not only the
norm, but also those discourses that should serve to “norm” homosexuals. Just the same, as
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Hirschfeld was writing Geschlecht und Verbrechen, it was clear to him that homosexuality would
belong to the domain of the Church and State for some time to come:
Die Entwurfsschwangerschaft dauert bereits drei Jahrzehnte und es hat, so
wie die Dinge heute stehen, nicht den Anschein, daß ein modernes Strafrecht
unter M i t a r b e i t der Sexualwissenschaft zustande kommen werde. (183)
Performative Parody: Homosexuality vs. Respectability in Weimar Germany
Wer an die Jahre der Inflation zurückdenkt, hat das tolle Bild eines höllischen
Karnevals vor Augen: Plünderungen und Krawalle, Demonstrationen und
Zusammenstöße, Schiebungen und Schleichhandel, quälender Hunger und
wüste Schlemmerei, rasche Verarmung und jähes Reichwerden, ausschweifende Tanzwut, schreckliches Kinderelend, Nackttänze, Valutazauber,
Hamstern von Sachwerten, Vergnügungstaumel.... (7)
This passage from Hans Ostwald’s Sittengeschichte der Inflation illustrates the bourgeois
“concern” for the societal outsiders. However, this “concern” is double-sided. On the one
hand, this was an empathetic concern, an interest for those estranged from society through
no fault of their own; concern for those who, due to low or no income, or due to
“illegitimate” professions and/or lifestyles, did not enjoy the same sense of economic, legal,
or political security as did the respectable bourgeoisie. On the other hand, this concern was
an uneasiness, an anxiety about the disintegrating social, economic, and political distinctions
between the respectable bourgeoisie and the societal outsiders.
Weimar Germany has been referred to as the “laboratory of modernity,” and it was
here that the process of modernization occurred more uncompromisingly and rapidly than in
any other Western country. This rapid change only fed the breakdown of Foucauldian
“mechanisms of distinction.” The method of differentiating the respectable from the
outsider vis-à-vis the “type,” which had been fostered by such people as Lombroso in Italy,
Bertillon and Quetelet in France, and Galton and Farnham in England, began to falter. Not
only was it hard to differentiate between sensational and factual, expert claims, but police
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archives were becoming simply too massive to be organized and used effectively.7 In
addition, psychology’s privatization of trauma (e.g., Freud’s Bruchstück einer Hysterie-Analyse)
introduced the question of (in)sanity into criminological discourse. This not only erased the
idea of the villain (e.g., the murderer Beckert’s defense in Fritz Lang’s M: “Will nicht...muß!
Will nicht...muß!”), but also denies identification of the type solely on visual cues. Finally,
corrective discourses intended to keep societal outsiders on the margins of society were no
longer accessible only to those in the legal and medical professions. As the outsiders slowly
gained “knowledge” about themselves, they further undermined the reliability of the
criminological “type” system by consciously performing these assigned roles. Such
performative parody stood in sharp contrast to Hirschfeld’s goal of normalization for
homosexuals through medical discourse, and jeopardized Hirschfeld’s model of the
“respectable homosexual.”
The topoi of the “Other” Homosexual in Weimar Berlin
“Wir haben so schöne Beine / ob niemand uns mitnehmen mag?
Wir sind doch so alleine – den ganzen langen Tag.
Wir schliefen in warmen Betten / Und träumten von Wollust und Mord,
Wir wohnten in kleinen Städten – / Es trieb uns fort –
Jetzt gehen wir den Strich entlang / Mit einem roten Schal –
Wir gehen – wir gehen den Strich entlang /
Und uns ist alles egal – ” (Mann, Der fromme Tanz 72)
Berlin not only remained Germany’s capital—it remained the seat of German homosexual
culture. For some, Berlin was a paradise. For others such as Hans Ostwald, Berlin, with its
riots, visible eroticism, emancipated hetero- and homosexual women, jazz, cocaine, and
numerous other thrills, had become a Moloch, a danger to the healthy German Volk.
However, despite the social excesses,
[. . .] wir erkannten, daß die große Masse des deutschen Volkes intakt
geblieben war. Sie war immer fleißig und ordentlich gewesen und geblieben.
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Der kleine brave Mann, der Briefträger und der Lokomotivführer, die
Näherin und die Waschfrau hatten ebenso wie die anderen Stände immer
ihre Pflicht erfüllt. Die Ärzte hatten die Kranken behandelt, die Gelehrten
hatten die Wissenschaft weiter getrieben, die Erfinder hatten ihre Ideen
gefördert und verwirklicht. (Sittengeschichte 8)
Ostwald offers the reader a bell-curve analysis of Weimar society. He directs his vehement
criticism at the outsiders of German society in the hope that “alle Verantwortlichen alles
daran setzen werden, daß unser deutsches Volk vor einem solchen Fieber bewahrt bleibt”
(9). However, Ostwald admits that these outsiders are not only the marginalized, but they are
the exception to the societal norm. As was the case with Ostwald, today’s cultural
imagination continues to exoticize and eroticize the Weimar era.
For the vast majority of those who experienced Weimar Germany, life was not
glamorous or exciting, but monotonous. As Stephan Zweig wrote in 1925, normalization in
the form of modernization was forcing everything to become
[. . .] more uniform in its outward manifestations, everything labeled into a
uniform cultural schema. The characteristic habits of individual people are
being worn away, [. . .] more and more the fine aroma of the particular in
cultures is evaporating, their colorful foliage being stripped with everincreasing speed, rendering the steel-grey pistons of mechanical operation, of
the modern world machine, visible beneath the cracked interior. (397)
Perhaps as a result of this day-to-day monotony, sociologists, doctors, and even writers took
it upon themselves to turn their attention to those who did not fall within societal norms,
and to look into the fantasies, fears, and desires of societal outsiders. Tales of crime and
adventure in the city dominated the Weimar literary scene.
Perhaps the best literary example of this genre is Klaus Mann’s Der fromme Tanz. This
novel marks an intersection of an ideal homosexual aesthetic and homosexual narrative that
is shaped largely by the topos of Berlin. This is the case not just for the novel’s contents, but
for its development as well: in December 1925, Klaus Mann published an “Abschnitt aus
einem Entwicklungsroman” in Der Eigene. Although Der fromme Tanz has not received the
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same amount of critical attention as in Alfred Döblin’s celebrated novel of Berlin, the City is
also very much a character in Mann’s “Abenteuerbuch einer Jugend.”8 As Michel de Certeau
writes in “Walking in the City,” “if in discourse the city serves as a totalizing and almost
mythical landmark for socioeconomic and political strategies, urban life increasingly permits
the re-emergence of the element that the urbanistic project excluded” (95). Leaving his
disapproving father, his sister, and Ursula, his female companion, behind in Munich,
Andreas moves to Berlin. Berlin—“the City”—is the spatial entity where Andreas Magnus
comes into his own as an artist, and, indeed, as a homosexual.
While being driven to his quarters, Andreas receives his first impressions of Berlin:
“[. . .] draußen glitt mit Bogenlampen und flimmernden Lichtreklamen die Stadt vorbei. Die
Stadt hatte nicht acht auf den, der da allein im Wagen saß” (46). Having just arrived in
Berlin, Andreas is a complete outsider, a point on the periphery of the societal bell-curve.
Andreas finds himself in this position as he lacks experience in Berlin. This experience
translates a memory of the City, through which, according to Certeau, “the possibility of
space and of a localization (a ‘not everything’) of the subject is inaugurated” (109). Andreas
does not have access to the “discourse” of the City; he is not “in dialogue” with Berlin.
Because of this, Andreas soon finds himself homeless and penniless, until he meets Fräulein
Franziska in a café, who says, “Ich erkenne gleich alle, die fremd sind in dieser Stadt” (55).
She immediately takes him under her wing, and it is through Franziska that Andreas—still
marginalized as a homosexual—finds his way in the homosexual subculture of Berlin.9
Although Andreas slowly finds a circle of friends in Berlin, he is still at odds with the
City. “Berlin war groß” (76) is his first thought in the fifth chapter. Berlin’s immense scale—
both spatial and textual—is hard for Andreas to comprehend, and it prevents him from
understanding how his personal story fits in to this urban text. Here one is reminded of
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Certeau, who writes of the “pleasure of ‘seeing the whole,’ of looking down on, totalizing the
most immoderate of human texts,” the City (92). Certeau explains the drive for this
knowledge as “the exaltation of a scopic and gnostic drive: the fiction of knowledge is
related to this lust to be a viewpoint and nothing more” (92). He continues:
Must one finally fall back into the dark space where crowds move back and
forth, crowds that, though visible from on high, are themselves unable to see
down below? [. . .] The ordinary practitioners of the city live ‘down below,’
below the thresholds at which visibility begins. They walk—an elementary
form of the experience of the city; they are walkers, Wandersmänner, whose
bodies follow the thicks and thins of an urban ‘text’ they write without being
able to read it. (93)
Via a “chorus of idle footsteps” à la Certeau (97), Andreas’ idle footsteps not only “give
shape to spaces and weave places together” (97), but they also create a text in which Andreas
seeks to understand his relationship with the multitude of Berliners:
Er ging nur darin umher und schaute—weil doch so viele Menschen da
lebten und sich mühten und sich zu vollenden trachteten—solche, die täglich
und immer wieder ihr kleines Werk taten und im guten Fleiße ihr Genüge
fanden und solche, die sich extravagant bemühten, im Ehrgeiz
Außerordentliches, ja Entscheidendes zu vollbringen dachten, verzweifelt
rednerisch oder verbissen stumm umhergingen und wahrscheinlich eines
Tages die armen Waffen dennoch strecken mußten. Oder solche wiederum,
die sich schon ganz hatten fallen gelassen—vielleicht sogar ohne vorher
gekämpft zu haben—und die man die “Verlorenen” nannte. Andreas kam
mit so vielen ja in Berührung. [. . .] Er sprach mit ihnen, er sah sie sich an, er
suchte aus ihnen klug zu werden. (76-77)
Like Ostwald’s differentiation of the healthy German Volk from the degenerate type and his
declaration that the former has triumphed over the latter, Mann’s passage also neatly
categorizes the Berliners. First, there are those who represent the healthy German Volk.
Each has successfully written his/her individual “text;” each has his/her daily routine. Then
there are those who might be considered to be Hochstapler; those who scheme in order to get
rich. Finally there are those who were “lost cases;” those who might never have been
integrated into society. One should note that Andreas attempts to speak with all types of
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people in order “to become wise,” or perhaps to learn to which category of person he
belongs. Is there a place for the homosexual in Weimar Berlin?
Indeed, there are many locales, such as the real-life Paradiesgärtlein and the fictional
Pfütze in Der fromme Tanz. Yet these places—both real and fictional—come alive at night. As
large as Berlin was by day, at night “[. . .] steigerte sie sich gleichsam selbst zu einem
flammenden Riesentraum, der plötzlich, durch den hohen, unbarmherzigen Willen eines
Gottes, Blut und leidensfähige Wirklichkeit werden mußte” (78). The image of city as Moloch
is evoked at precisely the point when Mann takes the reader on a tour of homosexual night
life in Berlin. As Certeau writes, “The act of walking is to the urban system what the speech
act is to language or to the statements uttered” (97). With its establishment of a “here” and
“there,” “[w]alking, which alternately follows a path and has followers, creates a mobile
organicity in the environment, a series of phatic topoi” (Certeau 99). Andreas’s “pedestrian
speech act”—the tour of the homosexual night life in Berlin—not only is an enunciation of
his identity as a homosexual, but also indicates that he is in dialogue with the City.10
The homosexual bar is the site within the city where the homosexual is a doubleoutsider of society. First, the homosexual is an outsider in terms of his/her orientation
and/or gender performance. As Andreas and his friends enter the first bar, they are greeted
by the bartender “mit damenhaftem Charme” (79), “weißlich-fett und stark parfümiert” (79).
It is hard to tell if the feminine nature of the male homosexuals in the bar is innate or merely
performative:
Die jungen Herren stießen hohe Jubeltöne aus, wenn so alte Bekannte wie
Andreas, Paul und Franziska das Lokal betraten, sie machten kleine,
schleudernde Bewegungen mit der Hand, als würfen sie den lieben Gästen
Blumen oder Seidenbällchen entgegen, sie riefen: ‘Du Sonnenschein! Ach
seht doch, die drei charmanten Schwestern!’—und schüttelten sich tänzerisch
auf den hohen, unbequemen Barstühlen, die sie zum Kauern benutzten. (79)
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In the second bar, Paradiesgärtlein, more gender-bending is afoot. Andreas sees his favorite
female impersonator, “Rosenblättchen,” who is “immer charmant wie eine Operettendiva”
(81). But in the Paradiesgärtlein, the homosexual is not only a societal outsider in terms of
sexual orientation, but also in terms of the law. Hustlers dance as Boris, a lonely lost case
“[. . .] nahm, halb der Wand zugewendet, eilig eine jener kleinen weißen Prisen, die so
appetitlich wirkten wie Schnupftabak, die kühl in der Nase waren wie Pfefferminz—und am
Ende so seltsame Folgen zeitigten” (81).11
The friends then go to a bar that literally is at the city limits, “[. . .] zum Fluß
hinunter, wo die Gaslaternen trüber flammten” (81). The outward movement from both the
city’s center as well as from “normal” bourgeois respectability continues as the night goes
on. This gradation of perversion is not only spatial, but also temporal. At two or three
o’clock in the morning, only the societal outsiders—the homosexual, the prostitute, the
gambler, the criminal (and some fit under more than one category)—are on the street. The
third bar, Sankt-Margaretenkeller, is an underground bar, both literally and figuratively. The
mythos of the underground bar and the celebration of the descent into debauchery prevailed
not only in the sociological reports of those like Ostwald and literary narratives of those like
Klaus Mann—it also fed the visual imagination, as evidenced by the drawings of W. Krain
(see fig. 2 and 3).
Although the friends were greeted warmly, the atmosphere here was heavier, the air
“[. . .] so dicht, daß es fast schwer fiel, sie einzuatmen” (82). This statement is repeated later
in the passage (82), as if to indicate that the goings-on in the bar were simply too much to
take in. Paulchen, the effeminate homosexual of the triumvirate, throws himself gladly into
the tumult and dances with a black man.
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Fig. 28. “Zeichnung von W. Krain.” Rpt. in Hans Ostwald, Sittengeschichte der Inflation: ein
Kulturdokument aus den Jahren des Marksturzes. (Berlin: Neufeld & Henius, 1931) n.p.
187
Fig. 29. “Zeichnung von W. Krain.” Rpt. in Hans Ostwald, Sittengeschichte der Inflation: ein
Kulturdokument aus den Jahren des Marksturzes. (Berlin: Neufeld & Henius, 1931) 138. The scene
takes place well past midnight. Note male homosexual couple right of center.
The description of the black homosexual and his animal sexuality is in keeping with the
exotic fear/fantasy of the black male which prevailed in Weimar Germany:12
[. . .] Paulchen tanzte schon in der Mitte des Raumes mit dem Neger, der den
großen Wollkopf, ganz hingegeben der Bewegung, barbarisch-schwärmerisch
zurücklegte und seinem schmalen Partner das große Gesicht mit dem blutrot
aufgeworfenen Mund hinhielt, als sei es zum Kusse. (82)
The reader encounters another instance of typing: “der Neger;” who is further marginalized
by the societal outsiders. By the end of the passage, the nameless black man had disappeared
somewhere with Paulchen (83). The mystery surrounding their absence is an open secret: the
two have left for a sexual encounter.
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Back at the Pfütze, a strange man with “fiery eyes” approaches Andreas, and tells him:
“Ich bin ganz durch Zufall in diesem Lokal. [. . .] Ein Bekannter hat mich dazu verleitet und
studienhalber war es mir interessant” (85). After having a close look at Andreas, the man
decides that Andreas does not belong in that bar. According to the man, Andreas has
reduced himself in his performance
[. . .] zum Narren damit vor einer Gesellschaft von Schiebern und
Schädlingen an der Kultur. Kein Mensch nimmt Sie ernst. Man spottet über
Sie, als ob Sie auf eine Liaison, auf einen kleinen erotischen Nebenverdienst
erpicht [. . .]. (85)
As if he were a soothsayer, the man knows that Andreas is not really a cabaret performer,
but a gifted artist. However, even if Andreas were to apply himself to his craft as he should,
the man predicts that “[. . .] an Ihrer Situation hätte sich deshalb nichts verändert: Sie blieben
der Narr, das nicht-ernst-genommene Spielzeug einer satten, unnützen Bourgeoisie und
müßten mit ihr zugrunde gehen” (85-86).
The political tone of the man’s speech slowly takes on shades of eroticism, as the
man explains that he is the leader of a band of young men. “Sie arbeiten tags in Fabriken
oder auf Bauplätzen. Uns verbindet alle untereinander Freundschaft und Liebe, die jene
Bourgeoisie, die wir hassen, vielleicht als unsittlich bezeichnen würde” (86). Aside from its
social milieu and revolutionary attitude, this male homosexual organization resembles Die
Gemeinschaft der Eigenen in its praise of male beauty and strength (see ch. 2). Indeed, it was
precisely this passage that had been published as “Abschnitt aus einem Entwicklungsroman”
in Der Eigene. Andreas politely refuses to join the group: “Aber plötzlich entgegnete Andreas
und begriff es selbst nicht warum— : ‘Ich kann nicht’” (87). For critic Stefan Zynda, this
passage is autobiographical, because such was the case for young “[. . .] Klaus Mann, der
sich zu schwach fühlt, um Erotik und Politik miteinander zu verbinden” (51).13
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In contrast to Hirschfeld’s representation of the “good,” respectable homosexual
object who was preyed upon by the “bad,” criminal element, Mann’s portrayal is much more
tempered. In terms of literary symbolism and topography, Mann employs the common
polarity of the “pure” small town and the “corrupt” big city. In terms of homosexuality and
topography, the “corrupt” big city is not only the site of decadent homosexuality. It is also
that spatial entity in which polarities of “good” and “bad” collapse; in which homosexuality
and homosexuals, criminality and criminals can be measured both quantitatively and
qualitatively against the respectable norm.
“Danger Zones”: Defining and Differentiating between “Homosexuality” and “Criminal Behavior.”
[S]o tritt im Strafgesetzentwurf auch noch die Kontroverse auf, daß der
Begriff [“gewerbsmäßiger Unzucht”] für etwas Erlaubtes gebraucht wird:
§ 373 (382 A. E.) ‘Gemeinschädliches Verhalten bei Ausübung der Unzucht’.
In diesem Paragraphen wird die grundsätzliche Erlaubtheit der
gewerbsmäßigen Unzucht e contrario festgestellt: Wer gewohnheitsmäßig
zum Erwerbe Unzucht treibt usw. usw., hat bestimmte gefährliche Zonen zu
meiden . . . .” (Hirschfeld, Geschlecht 317-18)
Male prostitutes and their blackmail of homosexuals continued to be a threat to Hirschfeld’s
model of respectable homosexuality throughout the Weimar period. In order to legalize
homosexuality in Germany, Hirschfeld and his colleagues had to make clear the distinction
between homosexuals who were “victims” of § 175 and those “homosexual” perpetrators
who profited from § 175. He does so by using the same basic argument of the film Anders als
die Andern: “Es liegt [den männlichen Prostituierten] nur daran, ihr Opfer als eine ständige
Analrente [sic!] in die Hand zu bekommen. Sie saugen es unter dem Schatten des
Staatsanwaltes aus bis zum Ruin oder Selbstmord.” (Geschlecht 320)
Because it reduces the male body to an object of exchange, Hirschfeld rejects male
prostitution as “die ‘widerliche Homosexualität’” (Geschlecht 320-21). “Criminal topography”
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becomes internalized: just as there are zones of criminal activity in the City, so too are there
zones in/on the male body that are an illegal object of desire and a site of illegal sexual activity:
Das bisherige Recht verstand unter widernatürlicher Unzucht zwischen
Männern nur die Einführung des Penis in den Anus des Andern. Die
Widernatürlichkeit lag darin in der Wahl des Weges, indem der Anus nicht zu
den Sexual-, sondern zu den Ausscheidungsorganen gehört. [. . .] Es geht
damit keineswegs hervor, daß der männliche After ein Rechtsschutzobjekt
sei. Trotzdem wird die ‘beischlafsähnliche Handlung’ bestraft. Auch die
Einwilligung des Pädizierten ertötet das Delikt nicht, vielmehr ist das Delikt
Offizialdelikt. Warum, das ist eigentlich niemals recht klar geworden.
(Hirschfeld, Geschlecht 306).
In short, Hirschfeld claims that the male anus should not be subject to legal “protection,” as
is the case under § 175. The topography of the male homosexual body, which is already
qualified by medical discourse vis-à-vis male-male anal intercourse is further regulated via
legal discourse. Not the body part itself, not even the “mechanics” of anal intercourse is
“illegal.” It is not even the “use” of the penis in anal intercourse between men—but the
“misuse” of the male anus in anal intercourse between men that is 1) offensive to bourgeois
respectability and 2) must be corrected or prevented.14
Considering Hirschfeld’s thirty year struggle against § 175, one wonders why this is
“not clear.” If the virile male is the symbol of the powerful State, then the individual male
body surrenders its individual sexuality to the collective “virility” of the State (Theweleit). To
“misuse” or “abuse” the individual male body via anal penetration not only compromises the
collective power of the State, but also challenges State control of the male body; in
particular, the State control of the male anus.
When he discusses male prostitution and homosexuality, Hirschfeld divides the two
into “offender” and “victim” respectively. Certainly many homosexuals did suffer at the
hands of prostitutes who blackmailed them.15 : Yet in an attempt to win empathy for the
“victimized” homosexual, Hirschfeld strips the homosexual of any autonomy and
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responsibility for his encounter with the male prostitute. It is as if the homosexual is in no
way accountable for his dealings with male prostitutes:
Diese männliche Prostitution, wie ich im Gegensatz zur Homosexualität
nennen möchte, ist nur Hingabe gegen Geld und ohne Emotion. Sie drängt
den Homosexuellen förmlich, Akte an ihr zu begehen, welche unter die
Strafdrohung fallen, und für sie selber sexuell vollkommen indifferent sind.
(Geschlecht 320)
Despite the visible and politically active homosexual subculture in Weimar Berlin, legal
discourse continued to criminalize, theological discourse continued to condemn, and medical
discourse continued to “diagnose” homosexual behavior and those places where
homosexuals met. “The homosexual,” his orientation, and his urban topoi were still subject to
and part of these discourses, which would continue to inform the homosexual’s selfknowledge, self-image, and aesthetic. Friedrich Radszuweit’s 1931 novel Männer zu verkaufen
is perhaps the best contemporary example of the homosexual response to this “net” of
discourses.
Berlin as Topos of “Emancipation Culture”: Friedrich Radszuweit, Trivialliteratur, and the Homosexual
Aesthetic
Friedrich Radszuweit (1876-1932) would become the first chairperson of the BfM in 1922.
His influence among homosexuals circles was strengthened in the fact that he was also the
most important publisher of homosexual journals. (Baumgardt 38). Radszuweit was
important in shaping the modernist homosexual aesthetic via the distribution of
“homosexual photography” (as discussed in ch. 2). A shameless self-publicist, Radszuweit
once advertised a contest in one of his journals to determine who was the “most popular
personality in the homosexual emancipation movement”: Magnus Hirschfeld, Adolf Brand,
or Friedrich Radszuweit. By a slight margin, Radszuweit “won” the contest; Hirschfeld came
second, and Brand came third.16 Radszuweit’s lover Martin Butzko not only contributed to
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Die Freundschaft, but upon Radszuweit’s death, Butzko took Radszuweit’s name and
continued to run the businesses. This lasted for only a few months; the Nazis closed the
business and placed Martin Radszuweit in a concentration camp (Jones 619-20).
In Weimar Berlin, Friedrich Radszuweit not only provided homosexuals with an
additional impulse of emancipation—but he also provided a visible, public topos specifically
for Berlin homosexuals with the Friedrich-Radszuweit-Verlag – Buchhandlung Perhaps the first
homosexual bookstore in Germany, ads for the bookstore in Radszuweit’s journals bore the
headline “Unsere Geschäftsstelle.”17 After the reader is invited to visit “our” store, s/he goes on
to read that
Sie erhalten bei uns die führenden homoerotischen Zeitschriften, wie
Freundschaftsblatt, Blätter für Menschenrecht, Freundin, die Insel usw.,
Aktphotos, Vergrößerungen und sämtliche homoerotischen Bücher, von
denen wir als die meistgelesensten nur erwähnen [. . .]. (“Friedrich
Radszuweit”)
Titles range from Klaus Mann’s Vor dem Leben to E. Magrodskaja’s Kreuzweg der Leidenschaft.
While later Germanists such as Marita Keilson-Lauritz would acknowledge a “schwule
Ästhetik” and a “homosexuelle Literatur” and grant at least Klaus Mann’s work the status of
“schwule Klassiker” within the German literary canon, many contemporary mainstream
critics were not willing to take even this step. In his 1927 study “Geschichte der erotischen
Literatur,” critic Paul Englisch criticizes much of post-World War I German literature, first
because it caters to the “niederen Instinkten” of the public:
[. . .] und da die Allgemeinkultur seit Jahren und besonders seit dem
‘glorreichen Weltkrieg’ in erschreckenden Niedergang begriffen ist, wurde die
Erotik bald eine Sache der Berechnung und Konjunktur, so daß Otto
Weininger mit Recht von einer ‘Coituskultur’ sprechen konnte” (266).
Englisch’s packed statement recalls the legal, economic, and medical discourses that
simultaneously shape and confine the modernist homosexual aesthetic, the literature that is
born from it, and the places in which such literature is circulated and sold.
Fig. 30. Unsere Geschäftsstelle. Advertisement. Die Insel 2.7 (1927): 29.
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With the further development of the homosexual culture, not only did these media help
disseminate this aesthetic, be it via artistic media such as photography, literature, or film; be
it within homosexual clubs, be it via prostitutes. These media also created a consumer subculture; a market whose target audience was the middle-class homosexual.
“The Erotic” as a consumer good was certainly nothing new in modernity, but the
methods with which it was sold were. Despite struggles with official censorship, modern
printing technology sped reproduction and distribution of “questionable” literature.18 With
respect to Weimar trivial literature, Englisch describes the questionable methods of
publishers to “entice and trap” their readers. In his section entitled “Schund-, Schauerromane
und Kitschliteratur,” Englisch writes:
Zuweilen ist der Titel das einzig Anreizende an dem ganzen Schmöker und
der Inhalt so harmlos und langweilig wie möglich. [. . .] Die meisten dieser
Elaborate locken bereits durch aufreizende Titel: ‘Fräulein Sünde’, ‘Sylvias
Liebesleben’, ‘Die rote Wanda’, ‘Der Weg zum Laster’, ‘Schamlose Seelen’,
‘Das Liebesnest am Gänsemarkte’, ‘Der heilige Wollüstling’ usw. (273)
Such is the case with Radszuweit’s Männer zu verkaufen: Ein Wirklichkeitsroman aus der Welt der
männlichen Erpresser und Prostituierten.19 What the title hints at—tales of homosexual sex—
would be served to the reader in an indeed “harmless and boring” manner. If the title alone
did not pique the interest of the male homosexual reader, then the covers of the December
1930 and January 1931 issues of Radszuweit’s Die Insel certainly would. The cover of the
December 1930 issue features the photograph of three young men, ages 17 to 19. Standing
with folded arms and naked to the lower waist (where the photograph ends), the three smile
coyly at the reader, coaxing the reader to “buy them.” Under the photo is the “motto”—here
the book’s title: “Männer zu verkaufen. Näheres siehe Seite 31 ‘Die Insel’” (Männer 5.12). The
pose of the three young men is not a “Classic” pose and the young men are not classic
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beauties. However, they fulfill the fantasy of the street hustler for the contemporary male
homosexual reader (see fig. 5).
If the December 1930 cover had not been enough to entice the reader into buying
the novel, the January 1931 cover pulled all stops. A photo montage from “[. . .] dem soeben
erschienenen Buch Männer zu verkaufen” (Männer 6.1) offered more men for sale in equally
suggestive poses with equally coy eyes. The three men from the December 1930 cover are
shown hunched together in the top left corner; a young man in a reclining, relaxed pose flirts
with the reader in the bottom left corner; the top right corner features a young man with
head in hand, as if he were waiting for someone; in the bottom right corner, a young man
looks down shyly to his right, and the reader’s gaze is not drawn to the youth’s face, but to
his “perfect” upper body. All men are topless: the naked upper body is shown down to the
pelvis, not only indicating that the entire body is naked, but drawing the lower body into the
imagination (see fig. 6). In Englisch’s literary analysis of such Kitschliteratur, he calls this
strategy what it is: a Freudian fetish:
Man ist in der gesitteten Gesellschaft stillschweigend übereingekommen,
Dinge, die das Geschlechtsleben in der Sprache auch nur streifen, in einem
dichten Schleier zu hüllen und von ihnen, wenn man durchaus nicht darum
herum kommt, in euphemistischen Umschreibungen zu sprechen, wohl in
dem Bewußtsein, daß das Negligé und Retroussé größere Reizwirkungen
auszulösen imstande ist als das Ding in seiner unbedeckten Blöße. (267)
The same analysis could apply for the cover pages of Die Insel (one of which was the cover of
the book); here the reader’s fetish for the naked upper body feeds his desire for the genitals
and buttocks. In any event, any nudity and sexual arousal end with the novel’s cover page.
As if a manifesto both of the “four points” of the BfM and of Hirschfeld’s scientific-political
program, Männer zu verkaufen is that tragedy that is § 175: shame and scandal based on
homosexual orientation, prostitution, and blackmail.
Fig. 31. Photographer Unknown. “Männer zu verkaufen.” Die Insel Dez. (1930): Cover.
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Fig. 32. Photographer Unknown. “Männer zu verkaufen.” Die Insel Jan. (1931): Cover.
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The homosexual, the blackmailer, their class, their home, and the places they each frequent
define each other mutually, thereby dividing the “good” from the “bad” and the “losers” and
the “winners” under § 175.
Männer zu verkaufen was without a doubt a commercial success. According to James
Jones, “[t]his work found what was for the time an enormous response among its intended
audience of homosexual males. The first two editions sold out within six weeks of the book’s
publication. [. . .]” (620).20 Radszuweit writes to his readers:
Ich habe [. . .] in diesem Buch keine Fantasie verarbeitet, sondern aus meinen
Erfahrungen, die ich in meinem Leben gesammelt habe, die wahren
Lebensschicksale verschiedener Menschen aufgezeichnet. Nachdenken wird
mancher darüber, aus welchen Ursachen heraus derartige Verhältnisse
entstehen können.
Nachdenken – alles verstehen – alles verzeihen – und dann helfend
eingreifen, ist der Zweck dieses Buches. (Vorwort)
In Defense of the Respectable Homosexual and his Environs: Baron von Rotberg
The story opens as Erich Lammers, the 26-year-old private teacher to the von Rotberg
family, returns to the von Rotberg home after a walk. He is greeted curtly by the servant,
whose strange behavior prompts Lammers to rush to his room. There he finds the door
wide open:
Der Hausherr, Baron von Rotberg, lang und dürr wie eine vertrocknete
Tanne, mit der viel zu großen Nase und den kleinen wässerigen Augen, stand
neben der Hausherrin, die einer Walküre glich, kneifend und fluchend auf
dem Teppich kniete und den Koffer des Hauslehrers durchsuchte. (9)
Lammers demands to know what is going on. Frau von Rotberg announces that a crime had
just taken place: Frau von Rotberg’s costly gemstone ring had been stolen and no one was to
leave the house until the thief had been caught. Further, Frau von Rotberg believed that
Lammers was the thief. Outraged, Lammers demands to be dismissed immediately.
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From the outset of the story, the von Rotberg house—although a house of
nobility—is the scene of criminal activity. Nothing is what it seems; the household is in
disarray in more ways than one. Gender roles are malapropos: the man of the house is a
weak, sniveling, passive creature, while the woman of the house—described as a Walküre—
“invades” the private sphere of the teacher.21 Moreover, it is neither the theft of the ring that
is the true crime, nor is Lammers the criminal. Baron von Rotberg later goes to Lammers’s
room, confesses that he had stolen the ring, and presents it to Lammers. Lammers “[. . .]
schaute Rotberg mit einem durchdringenden Blick an und da sah er zum erstenmal, nicht
nur das häßliche Gesicht Rotbergs, sondern auch den Leidenszug, der dieses Gesicht
entstellte“ (14).
Weak nerves, “ugliness,” an aura of suffering, effeminacy: what Lammers might not
be able to piece together, the educated reader certainly could. Jones argues that Männer zu
verkaufen is undoubtedly a Weimar novel about homosexuality because “[t]he most obvious
point of difference between this novel and those earlier works is the complete absence of the
physician. Medical viewpoints remain completely silent. Baron Rotberg strongly, even
sternly, defends his sexual preference when Erich Lammers at first seems to join in the
prejudice against it” (627). I would state this differently. The character of “The Doctor”
might be absent from the story, but medical (and legal) discourse is still present.
Radszuweit’s gendering of Baron Rotberg, and Rotberg’s insistence that his homosexuality is
inborn and therefore “natural” recall Hirschfeld’s Third Sex theory. What makes this novel a
Weimar novel about homosexuality is that it is not the Doctor who diagnoses the
homosexual, but the homosexual who diagnoses himself. In the process of selfdetermination, the respectable homosexual has “successfully” internalized those discourses:
compare Radszuweit’s “Rotberg” to Klaus Mann’s “Paulchen” and/or “Niels.”
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Indeed, Rotberg is of the Third Sex, as he explains to Lammers in his “Enthüllung”
(17). When explaining his motivation for stealing the ring, Rotberg not only confesses the
crime of theft, but also of homosexuality. While in Berlin, Herr von Rotberg had fallen in
love with “Helmut Hintze,” a handsome and charming 22-year-old waiter who worked at the
hotel where Rotberg was staying. Helmut’s love was reciprocal—or so it seemed to Rotberg
when he left Berlin. After already having sent large sums of money to Helmut for “doctor
bills,” Rotberg received a letter from an “Emmy Kohlrausch,” who demanded “[. . .] sofort
zweitausend Mark [. . .] zu senden, und zwar als Beihilfe für Arzt und Arzneikosten, die für
Helmut Hintze infolge seiner Erkrankung, an der [Rotberg] angeblich allein die Schuld trage,
entstanden seien” (18). Rotberg made his way back to Berlin to look into the matter:
Sie, Herr Lammers, werden sich kaum meine grenzenlose Überraschung
vorstellen können, als ich in einem der vornehmsten Villenviertel Berlins die
luxuriös ausgestattete Wohnung dieser Kohlrausch betrat und Helmut mit
noch acht anderen jungen Leuten gesund und munter bei einem fröhlichen
Zechgelage vorfand. [. . .] Als Helmut mich sah, stand er auf, kam auf mich
zugetorkelt und lallte mit heiserer Stimme. ‘Ah, sieh da, mein Grauchen ist
gekommen, mein Goldfüchslein bringt mir die zweitausend Mark selbst” (1819).
Rotberg, an honest, respectable homosexual from a smaller city (that is never named), has
fallen into the trap of the male prostitute and blackmailer in the big city of corruption, Berlin.
However, the blackmailer and the prostitute are not one and the same, and the gendering of
both are also “askew.” Helmut Hintze, the male prostitute, works for his pimp, Emmy
Kohlrausch.22 She not only makes money from Hintze’s (and others) prostitution, but also
from the subsequent blackmail of the homosexual male customers. Despite the threat of
blackmail, Rotberg leaves and goes to the police, where he, pretending to be a potential
employer of Hintze, requests to see Hintze’s record. Hintze had not been convicted of any
crimes, and Rotberg’s emotions are torn:
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In dem einen Ohr hörte ich eine Stimme, die mir zurief: Helmut ist ein
Verbrecher, wende dich ab von ihm, sonst kommst du in den Abgrund. Im
anderen Ohr war mir, als flüsterte es: Helmut ist in seinem jugendlichen
Leichtsinn gestrauchelt. Durch fadenscheinige Schmeicheleien falscher
Kavaliere, die ihn nur für eine Nacht haben wollten, eitel und eigensüchtig
gemacht, ist er zum gewerbsmäßigen Prostituierten herabgesunken. Hilf ihm!
Durch deine Liebe und Güte wird er wieder ein brauchbarer Mensch der
Gesellschaft werden. (21)
Rotberg’s assumptions will prove to be only partially correct. As Hirschfeld wrote in
Geschlecht und Verbrechen, the State controls the crime of male prostitution by making clear to
the (potential) offenders that they had certain “danger zones” to avoid, zones in which the
offenders would be apprehended and prosecuted if they were caught. Helmut is a criminal
and belongs to that social and spatial topos of male prostitution; if Rotberg continues to deal
with Helmut, he too will soon find himself in the spatial, social, and legal “Abgrund” of
Berlin. However, Rotberg’s goodwill is misinformed and misguided because he does not
know Helmut Hintze’s true “nature.”
Rotberg later learns that Hintze had twice served a couple of months in prison for
blackmail. As his most recent letter (the reason for Rotberg’s “theft”) indicates, these prison
sentences have not reformed Hintze:
‘Wenn Du mir nicht das Geld, oder einen Wertgegenstand, den ich leicht zu
Geld machen kann, bis zu dem festgesetzten Termin schickst, dann erfährt
Deine Frau und die ganze Nachbarschaft, daß Du ein 175er bist. Ob Du
dann noch weiterhin der geachtete Baron von Rotberg sein wirst, ist eine
andere Frage. . . . Es steht Dir frei, mich wegen Erpressung anzuzeigen, aber
glaube mir, mir können ein paar Monate Gefängnis mehr oder weniger nichts
schaden, da ich ja doch schon ein Verbrecher bin – während Dein Ruf und
Dein Ruin, der sich auf Deinen Sohn übertragen wird, erst dann folgt, wenn
ich aus der Schule plaudere . . . .’ (23)
The prison is perhaps the most obvious shared topos of “the homosexual” and “the
blackmailer”: despite scientific arguments to the contrary (Hirschfeld), the two are both
criminal types in legal discourse. Accordingly, their “legal” topos in the city is the prison.23
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Although physical characteristics alone no longer aid the State in apprehending these
criminals, when they are “unmasked,” both live mostly undisturbed in their respective urban
topos. Both “homosexual” and “blackmailer” are free to circulate wherever they wish to.
However, if they step into those “danger zones” where they could be easily identified and
apprehended, both must wear a “norming” mask, a “mask” of respectability. However, as
Hirschfeld and many others (including the fictional Helmut Hintze) have suggested, the
homosexual is at the mercy of the blackmailer. Indeed, blackmail is defined as “[t]he
extortion of money or something of value from a person by the threat of exposure of something
criminal or discreditable” (“Blackmail”). The male homosexual risks exposure if he does not pay
the blackmailer; if he brings charges against the blackmailer, he exposes himself.
Rotberg sees no other option than to send Hintze the ring, lest Hintze “unmasks”
Rotberg as a homosexual. Lammers refuses to allow Rotberg to send the ring to Hintze,
mostly out of self-interest: “Der Verdacht, daß einer Ihrer Angestellten ein Dieb sei, darf
nicht weiter aufrecht erhalten werden, wenn der Baron von Rotberg ein Ehrenmann bleiben
will” (23). As a suspect for the theft of the ring, Lammers too has been drawn into the realm
of Rotberg’s homosexuality and Hintze’s blackmail. After the ring “mysteriously” resurfaces,
Lammers is free to leave.
Rethinking all that Rotberg had told him, Lammers realizes that “[n]ur vom
Hörensagen kannte er die häßlichen Ausdrücke, die die meisten Menschen sinnlos auf
diejenigen anwenden, die das gleiche Geschlecht lieben” (27). Further, he remembers that he
too had been betrayed and deeply hurt by someone he loved. A woman who intended to
marry Lammers suddenly married another man who was of much better means. In a
blatantly pedagogical moment of epiphany, Lammers realizes that homosexual love does
exist, but yet cannot equate it with heterosexual love:
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Keiner versteht euch, keiner, weil eure Liebe so rätselhaft erscheint. Und
doch muß wohl auch in eurer Liebe dieselbe Glut lodern, wie bei uns, denn
sonst wäre solche Hilfe, wie Rotberg sie dem Hintze angedeihen ließ,
unmöglich. Wie klein und erbärmlich sind wir Menschen doch in unserer
Anschauung. Wir vermögen immer nur das zu fassen, was uns selbst
bedrückt und quält, und achten nicht auf die Seelenart der ‘Anderen’, die alles
mit sich allein austragen müssen. (28)
This moment of epiphany is also a moment of self-realization: Lammers can sympathize
with Rotberg, whom Lammers resolves to help. The next morning, Lammers tells Rotberg
his plan: Lammers will travel to Berlin in Rotberg’s stead and meet with the blackmailer
Helmut Hintze. In order to confront the blackmailer, Lammers requests Hintze’s letters to
Rotberg. Precisely as Rotberg hands the letters to Lammers, Frau von Rotberg intercedes.
She is outraged and demands the letters.
Letters are merely those tangible “open secrets” between addresser and addressee,
and this is no exception in Männer zu verkaufen. The reader is led to believe that Frau von
Rotberg is suspicious of the relationship between Rotberg and Lammers: “’So habe ich doch
richtig vermutet,’ rief sie in zynischem Ton, ‘daß der saubere Herr Hauslehrer dem
willensschwachen Baron von Rotberg etwas abnötigt, was man später gegen mich ausnutzen
kann!’” (31). The gendering of this scene only underscores the Baron’s effeminate nature. It
is as if Lammers were the “masculine courtier” securing the secret love letters from the
“effeminate,” “weak willed” Baron. The Baroness “plays the part” of the “masculine,”
“jealous husband” who surprises the two “lovers” (cf. endnote 20). However, as with the
“theft” of the ring, here is not all as it would seem. The Baroness does have an interest in the
letters, but for a completely different reason. She believes that the letters are the secret premarital correspondence between her and the Baron (which the Baron had since destroyed).
After reassuring his wife, who leaves the room, Rotberg explains the background of his
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marriage to the Baroness. In this moment, Rotberg becomes that homosexual (as described
by Hirschfeld) who is forced into heterosexual marriage against his will.
True to her abrupt, “masculine” nature, the Baroness had demanded that Rotberg
marry her. Rotberg declined, only to learn from his parents that the Baroness’s father, Graf
Kaiserlink, had taken over his father’s mortgage and debts from gambling. Kaiserlink had
done this on one condition: that their children one day marry. Rotberg describes his
confusion:
“In jener Nacht habe ich einen Kampf mit meinen Empfindungen geführt,
wie wohl selten ein Mensch. Rastlos und ratlos wanderte ich stundenlang im
Park umher. Meine Kindespflicht den Eltern gegenüber hielt ich für heilig,
meine inneren Gefühle, mein ganzes Empfinden bäumte sich aber dagegen
auf, daß ich einer Frau angehören sollte. Jahrelang hatte ich im stillen [sic]
gehofft und mich danach gesehnt, einen Freund mein eigen zu nennen, und
nun sollte das anders werden. Ein Weib, ein Weib, sollte ich mir nehmen, um
an ihrer Seite mein Leben zu verbringen. Ein Grauen, ja, ein Ekel erfaßte
mich bei dem Gedanken, daß ich vielleicht Leib an Leib mit einer Frau in
einem gemeinsamen Schlafzimmer verbringen sollte. Ich kann nicht, sagte
ich mir immer wieder. Es ist eine Sünde gegen meine Natur, wenn ich
heirate. Es ist ein Verrat an dem Weibe, das ich an mich kette. Lieber auf und
davon. Arbeiten und kämpfen ums tägliche Brot, nur frei sein, frei in meiner
Liebe zum gleichen Geschlecht.” (38)
That night Rotberg had decided to reveal his true orientation to his parents the next morning
at breakfast; however,
“[a]ls ich aber das eingefallene Gesicht meines Vaters sah, bekam ich Mitleid
mit dem gebrochenen Manne und schwieg. Ich schaute zur Mutter hinüber,
auch sie schien in dieser Nacht um Jahre gealtert zu sein. Gram und Kummer
spiegelten sich in ihrem Gesicht wider.” (39)
Rotberg then reverses his decision and agrees to marry.24 Although the marriage is not a seen
as a “cure” for Rotberg’s homosexuality (as is the case with many of Hirschfeld’s patients), it
is that necessary mask of heterosexuality that he must wear in order to be a respectable male.
In terms of Hirschfeldian eugenics, the secret correspondence between Rotberg and the
Baroness proves the harmlessness of this marriage between homo- and heterosexual. For the
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Baroness, this is simply a marriage of convenience: the Baroness is pregnant and the father
has abandoned her. Therefore, not only is the “risk” of passing on the inborn trait of
homosexuality not present in this marriage, but this marriage is also a must in order for the
Baroness to protect her respectability. Truly, the respectability of three parties—of Rotberg’s
parents, of Rotberg, and of the Baroness—hinges on this marriage. As “man and wife,”
Rotberg and the Baroness are not excluded from the social and spatial topoi of aristocratic
society. But at what price? In Geschlecht und Verbrechen, Hirschfeld writes:
Bis jetzt hat die Wissenschaft erkennen müssen, daß die bisherige rechtliche
Regelung des Sexuallebens die Menschen zu Millionen in krankhafte und
biologisch widersinnige Zustände gebracht hat. Daß das zerrüttete
Sexualleben eine Folge der jahrhundertelangen Mißhandlung des
Geschlechtstriebes durch die kirchliche Dogma und dessen staatliche
Rechtsnormierung geworden ist.
Ein sexuell verkrüppeltes Volk hat keine Zukunft. Es werden
nutzbare Energien im Kampfe mit der Sexualität und ihren Entartungen
verpufft. (184-85)
“Helmut Hintze”: The Unmasking—The Uncanny
Lammers arrives in Berlin, finds a hotel, and reads over Hintze’s letters. In the ten years that
Rotberg had dealt with Hintze, Rotberg had paid him over 42,000 Marks. Wondering how
such a thing could happen, Lammers asks himself who is guilty: Rotberg or Hintze. It is no
wonder why Lammers is a teacher by profession, for in answering his own question, he
thereby “educates” the reader:
Der Schuldige? so philosophiert Lammers, ist allein die Dummheit. Die
Dummheit all derjenigen, die unter dem Deckmantel der Moral den § 175
unseres Strafgesetzbuches aufrecht erhalten. Die Dummheit und
Voreingenommenheit der Volksmasse, und dazu gehören auch die
Gebildeten, die die gleichgeschlechtlichliebenden Menschen als minderwertig
und verachtenswert betrachten. Wer hat denn ein Recht, sich in die
Bettgeheimnisse anderer Menschen einzumischen? Etwa der Staat? Der Staat
hätte eigentlich die Pflicht, seine Bürger vor solchen Tragödien zu schützen,
wie Baron Rotberg sie erlebt hat. (55)
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Lammers’s arguments echo those of Hirschfeld’s in Geschlecht und Verbrechen almost word for
word:
Die Freiheit sexueller Lebensäußerungen soll nur in dem absoluten Rechte
des andern, des Nächsten, ihre Grenzen haben. [. . .]
Deshalb muß als fester Grundsatz des modernen Strafrechtes
gefordert werden:
D e m W o l l e n d e n g e s c h i e h t k e i n U n r e c h t.
Die Sexualität ist eine privatrechtliche Funktion und gehört in keiner
ihrer Phasen dem Staate.
Die Wissenschaft muß jede Regelung von Lebensäußerungen
zurückweisen, die mit diesen Grundsätzen im Widerspruch steht. Sie muß
aber auch immer und immer wieder auf die Gefahr hinweisen, in welche eine
kurzsichtige und fossile Rechtsgestaltung der Sexualität den Staat in ihren
Auswirkungen bringt. (184-85).
Lammers vows to bring Hintze to justice. He makes his way from his hotel to Hintze’s home
in the Keibelstraße, near Alexanderplatz. This is the topos of lower-class Berlin, and therefore
of lower-class prostitutes.25 Lammers is assumed to be a homosexual, based merely on the
fact that he is where he is. Leading Lammers to Hintze’s bedroom, a woman tells him the
“ground rules”:
“Hat mein Mann Sie nicht erst um 10 Uhr herbestellt?” fragte sie. “Vor 10
Uhr pflegt er niemand zu empfangen; aber schließlich wird er ja wissen, was
er mit Ihnen vereinbart hat, wenn Sie so früh kommen. Noch eins, ich dulde
nicht, daß Sie länger als eine Stunde mit meinem Mann zusammenbleiben. Er
hat schließlich auch noch Verpflichtungen gegen mich. Ich bin seine Frau
und verlange mein Recht” (56).
This quotation marks another interesting reversal of gender roles: Hintze is the (assumed)
object of desire, while the woman is the agent of exchange.
Alone in the room, Lammers faces Hintze, who lies in bed with his back to
Lammers. In his attempt to unmask the blackmailer, Lammers unwittingly uncovers a family
secret. Helmut Hintze turns to face Lammers: he is none other than Lammers’s long-lost
brother, Herbert. Lammers gives Herbert his address at the hotel and demands that Herbert
meet him there. Upon exiting Herbert’s room, Lammers is forced to pay the woman for
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“services rendered” by “Helmut Hintze”: “Det könnte Ihnen so passen, vor naß huren [sic],
nee mein Lieber, vielleicht wo anders, aber nicht bei Hintzens, da heest es Pinke, Pinke” (59).
Lammers is shocked—“als ob er eine Statue aus Stein wäre” (58)—that his brother is
a male prostitute, but his shock does not stem from this alone. The encounter is an uncanny
moment. For Lammers, this is another instance of self-realization: homosexuality and male
prostitution are not foreign elements; they are a part of the family. In his definition of the
Uncanny, Freud explains that
[. . .] dies Unheimliche ist wirklich nichts Neues oder Fremdes, sondern
etwas dem Seelenleben von alters her Vertrautes, das ihm nur durch den
Prozeß der Verdrängung entfremdet worden ist: Die Beziehung auf die
Verdrängung erhellt uns jetzt auch die S c h e l l i n g s c h e Definition, das
Unheimliche sei etwas, was im Verborgenen hätte bleiben sollen und
hervorgetreten ist. (“Unheimliche” 254).
What once seemed so unfamiliar for Lammers suddenly becomes all too familiar. In an attempt
to collect his thoughts, Lammers aimlessly wanders the streets, trying to come to terms with
the figurative and literal collision of the topoi of homosexuality, male prostitution, and the
family (the respectable bourgeoisie). This proves to be too much for him; he must return to
neutral ground: “Ich will heim, nach meinem Hotel, sprach er leise vor sich hin” (59-60).
Shortly thereafter, an intoxicated Herbert meets Lammers at the hotel. Lammers tries
to piece together the reason why Herbert had left home: “Wollte ich von den Eltern
Aufschluß haben, weshalb du nicht nach Hause kommen durftest, erhielt ich stets die
Antwort: ‘Herbert ist für uns tot, eine Aussprache über ihn ist unnötig’” (61).
Excursus: “Das männliche Narrativ,” Father/Son Conflicts, and Banishment from Respectable topoi
Herbert explains to Lammers how things had come to pass: sent by his father against his will
to the university in Berlin, a struggling Herbert begs his father to allow him to quit. Pastor
Lammers, the father, will hear nothing of this.
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Herbert dreams of being a simple waiter. He stops attending university and finds a
job in one of the best coffeehouses in Berlin; Pastor Lammers continues to send Herbert
money for school. A woman named Grete—the German “Eve,” if you will—steals Herbert’s
heart and he soon becomes a father. It is Herbert’s plan to write his father, ask for
permission to marry Grete, and, like the Prodigal Son, request his inheritance in advance in
order to open a restaurant of his own. As fate would have it, a conference brings Pastor
Lammers to Berlin, who, with his colleagues, goes to the restaurant where Herbert works.
After learning the truth about Herbert’s life in Berlin, Pastor Lammers is furious. He meets
Herbert at his apartment the next day and refuses to allow Herbert to marry the
“Proletarierdirne” (66). After Herbert reminds his father that a pastor should love and
forgive, Pastor Lammers is enraged:
“Mein Sohn Herbert ist in diesem Augenblick gestorben, wann er beerdigt
wird, weiß ich noch nicht. Ich aber sowie die Mutter werden zur Beerdigung
nicht kommen. Kein Stein, kein Baum, kein Kreuz und kein Hügel sollen
jemals Kunde davon geben, wo Herbert beerdigt wurde. Er möge in Frieden
wandeln, aber im Andenken seiner Eltern ist er unbarmherzig ein für allemal
ausgelöscht.” (66)
Like Herr Braun in Alf, Pastor Lammers is the literary instance of the männliches Narrativ: the
authoritative, masculine voice of the patriarchy that legitimizes, corrects, or rejects the object
of its speech. It is precisely these voices, or these discourses, that Hirschfeld (the Scientist,
the Doctor) opposes with respect to homosexuality and the law in Geschlecht und Verbrechen.
In Totem und Tabu, Freud explains the connection between the emergence of the patriarchal
family from religion:
Mit der Einsetzung der Vatergottheiten wandelte sich die vaterlose
Gesellschaft allmählich in die patriarchalisch geordnete um. Die Familie war
eine Wiederherstellung der einstigen Urhorde und gab den Vätern auch ein
großes Stück ihrer früheren Rechte wieder. Es gab jetzt wieder Väter. Aber
die sozialen Errungenschaften des Brüderclan waren nicht aufgegeben
worden, und der faktische Abstand der neuen Familienväter vom
unumschränkten Urvater der Horde war groß genug, um die Fortdauer des
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religiösen Bedürfnisses, die Erhaltung der ungestillten Vatersehnsucht, zu
versichern. (180)
The “literary topoi” of the Father are primarily legal and theological discourses; this came to be
only because society willed it out of a “religious yearning” for the Father. It is therefore no
coincidence that Lammers’s father is a “man of God”; Pastor Lammers’s narrative is at once
the voice of the law and the moral voice of “God.” With the authority vested in his “voice,”
Pastor Lammers proclaims the “death” of the wayward son, “damning” him to those topoi
which lie beyond the borders of respectable bourgeois society. Viewed via this lens, Männer
zu verkaufen, like Alf, fits the definition of Familienroman, and in its impulse for emancipation,
the novel challenges the authority of the männliches Narrativ.
To be sure, Pastor Lammers’s rejection of Herbert banishes Herbert to the
underworld of Berlin. Having been disowned by his father, Grete and her parents turn their
back on Herbert: “Mittellos und ohne Obdach stand ich auf der Straße” (67).
Social Networking: Where Male Prostitutes, Blackmailers, and (Respectable) Homosexuals Meet
Much like Franziska rescues Andreas from the streets of Berlin in Klaus Mann’s Der Fromme
Tanz, Emmy Kohlrausch was to be Herbert’s “salvation” within the Berlin underworld of
Männer zu verkaufen. From the beginning of their encounter, Herbert was nothing but an
object to Emmy. At her apartment, she makes an advance. Herbert tells Lammers that
“[e]inen Augenblick erfaßte mich etwas wie Ekel und Grauen vor diesem perversen,
alternden Weibe, das mich als ihr Werkzeug benutzen wollte” (68). Just the same, Herbert
decides that he must make the best of this “financial opportunity.” Although Herbert lives
with Emmy for a couple of weeks, he quickly learns that he has no control over the
situation: Emmy finds another young lover and tells Herbert of her plans for him:
210
‘Du bist ein hübscher Mensch,’ sagte sie, ‘und ich möchte etwas aus dir
machen, damit du viel Geld verdienst und doch nicht arbeiten brauchst. Es
gibt Männer, die Hunderte zahlen, wenn sie dich für eine Nacht haben
könnten.’ (69)
Herbert only laughs in response, and Emmy realizes that he does not know what she means.
She portrays homosexuality as a money-making opportunity for young men like Herbert:
‘Wenn du auf der Straße spazieren gehst und an gewissen Stellen, zum
Beispiel vor einem Kaufhaus am Wittenbergplatz, länger als nötig
herumstehst, wirst du bald einen finden, der dich anlacht und dich zu einer
Tasse Kaffee einladet. Das übrige [sic] findet sich von selbst.’ (69)
Emily can be compared to that person in Certeau’s article whose position from “above”
allows her the “pleasure of ‘seeing the whole,’ of looking down on, totalizing the most
immoderate of human texts,” the City (92). Her unique subject position gives her the
economic knowledge of how topoi of male homosexuals and male prostitutes are tied
together—of the “here” and “there,” of the “market” of buyer and seller.26 With her
knowledge, Herbert will learn how to “make his way” and find economic success in the male
homosexual subculture.
Herbert finds this all hard to believe, but “mehr aus Neugier als um Geld zu
verdienen” (70), he heads to the Tauentzienstraße at Wittenbergplatz. The Tauentzienstraße is a
collective homosexual topographical memory that incorporates an emerging homosexual
identity, homosexual subculture, and homosexual activity. Since it is laden with such
iconographic importance, many homosexual writers in the Weimar period directly reference
the Tauentzienstraße.27 In any event, here Herbert has his first “Freier.” It is not the sexual
experience that disgusts him, but the realization that he is a verlorener Sohn:
Das Geld brannte mir wie Feuer in der Hand. ‘Pfui Teufel,’ sagte ich mir,
‘Herbert Lammers, der Sohn eines Pastors, verkauft seinen Körper, er geht
als männliche Dirne einem Gewerbe nach, vor dem man Abscheu haben
muß. (70)
211
When he returns to Emmy, he tells her that he cannot turn another trick solely because it
would bring shame on the family name. Emmy provides a simple solution: with new
personal identification papers, Herbert Lammers would mask himself as Helmut Hintze.
With this mask, Herbert is not only guaranteed access to the topoi of male prostitution, but
his true identity shall remain “pure.” When Emmy threatens Herbert that she would contact
his parents if he does not give her his earnings, the soon-to-be blackmailer Herbert is
himself a victim of blackmail. The mask of Helmut Hintze is responsible for any crimes
committed: once the mask is removed, Herbert Lammers becomes an innocent victim.
In addition, the reader learns that Herbert/Helmut “[. . .] Männer doch nicht lieben
konnte, sondern ihnen nur meinen Körper ohne jedes Gefühl verkaufte” (74). Having
“come out” as a hetero- or bisexual male prostitute,28 Herbert fits the profile of Hirschfeld’s
“male prostitute type”: “Das homosexuelle Verbrechertum ist an sich meist nicht
homosexuell, sondern günstigstenfalls nur bisexuell, aber es macht sich die Veranlagung zu
Erwerbszwecken dienstbar und benutzt das Gesetz zur Erpressung auf homosexueller
Grundlage [. . .]” (Geschlecht 320).
“[. . .] besser als alles Erzählen ist ein Selbsterleben”29 In Dialogue with the Homosexual
Subcultures
Erich Lammers’s fascination with the homosexual subculture grows with every question that
he asks his brother. These questions are of course placed on behalf of the reader: that
Lammers, who knew nothing about homosexuality but unfound rumors would suddenly
champion homosexual emancipation, is highly unlikely. In Geschlecht und Verbrechen,
Hirschfeld measures society’s interest in homosexual emancipation and § 175 against its
interest in § 218 (outlawing abortion): “Weniger als die Abtreibung ist die Homosexualität
jedermanns Angelegenheit, weil dort jeder in den Fall kommen kann, indes hier jeder weiß,
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wie weit ihm eine Bestrafung drohen kann oder nicht. Deswegen stehen die ‘Normalen’ dem
Problem indifferent gegenüber, weil sie ja nicht in den Geruch kommen möchten, daß sie
auch ‘anders als die andern’ seien” (308).
Herbert proves to be a reliable source of information, and the dialogue is in essence a
notice for “respectable” homosexual topoi and publications in Berlin:
“Es soll im Deutschen Reich annähernd zwei Millionen solcher Menschen
geben. Aber selbst, wenn diese Zahl zu hoch gegriffen wäre, so sind es
Hunderttausende, die dieser Liebe huldigen. Das geht schon daraus hervor,
daß diese Leute eine festgefügte Organisation haben, die sich ‘Bund für
Menschenrecht, E. [sic] V.’ nennt. Ferner muß man die in großen Auflagen
erscheinenden Zeitschriften kennen, die ausschließlich die Interessen dieser
Männer vertreten und die in allen Städten bei jedem Zeitschriftenhändler zu
haben sind, um sich ein Bild von der großen Zahl der
gleichgeschlechtlichliebenden Männer machen zu können. Es erscheint aber
auch noch eine Wochenschrift, die ausschließlich die Interessen der
gleichgeschlechtlichliebenden Frauen wahrnimmt. Alle diese Blätter und
ebenso der Bund bekämpfen die gewerbsmäßige Prostitution und das
Erpressertum in der schärfsten Weise. Der Bund hat sogar ein großes Netz
von Ortsgruppen über das ganze Reich organisiert, die über die Erpresser
eine sogenannte schwarze Liste führen. Daran siehst du, wie ernst, ja, man
möchte fast sagen, wie heilig diesen Menschen ihre Liebe ist.” (76-77).
Considering how in the underworld—as a male prostitute and blackmailer—Herbert had so
terribly manipulated Rotberg, Herbert’s detailed account of the BfM and its publications
portrays Herbert as a champion of homosexual rights. Such inconsistent character
development and circumstantial events in the plot render Männer zu verkaufen as trivial
literature.
Lammers takes note of Herbert’s newly found “compassion” and expresses his
interest in seeing the homosexual subculture first-hand. However, he wants to be certain of
Herbert’s reclamation. Herbert assures his brother that he has nothing more to do with
Emmy, that the woman with whom he lives is not his wife, and that he wants to be
reconciled with his father. However, Herbert takes pleasure in his final performance as the
criminal: “‘[I]ch will noch einmal in deiner Gegenwart meine Rolle als Helmut Hintze
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spielen.’ — — —” (79). During Herbert’s “performance,” Lammers is to call Herbert
“Helmut Hintze” and to deny knowing him should there be trouble with the law.
Lammers and “Helmut” begin their bar tour at nine in the evening. Lammers asks
why Herbert insists on being so careful; if the bars are indeed that dangerous. Herbert
replies:
“Ja und nein, [. . .] es kommt manchmal vor, daß die Polizei in diesen
Lokalen Razzia abhält. Da kann ein unbedachtes Wort mitunter viel schaden.
Nur aus diesen Gründen ist Vorsicht geboten” (80).
Herbert’s answer is ambivalent: his remark that the bars are and are not dangerous translates
to the fact that the bars are and are not legal. As in Klaus Mann’s Der fromme Tanz, such bars
are sites of criminal activity. However, these sites are only dangerous (for one’s
respectability) if one is caught by police. Radszuweit’s description of homosexual topoi lies
somewhere between Hirschfeld’s “factual” documentary of Berlin’s “respectable”
homosexuals in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht and the decadent underground homosexual bars with
the “societal double-outsiders” (male prostitutes, transvestites, cocaine drug users) in Mann’s
Der fromme Tanz.
As James Jones has noted, “Herbert’s—and Radzuweit’s—intent is to show the good
and the bad side of homosexual life” (623), and adds that the tour presents the reader with
“[. . .] the variety of homosexualities that exist” (628). While I do agree with this, I would add
that it is precisely at this moment where Hirschfeld’s voice can be heard. In order to portray
clearly what respectable homosexuality and those respectable topoi are, Hirschfeld and
Radszuweit must also present the “bad” side of homosexual life. However, the issue at hand
is much larger than “good” vs. “bad” homosexuality and does not have to do with
“innocent” and “guilty.” All homosexuals—“good” and “bad”—are indeed criminals in the
eyes of Weimar law. Therefore, in Hirschfeldian legal discourse, it is about those
214
homosexuals who are “wrongly accused” and those who are “justly accused.” Hirschfeld
bases this argument on medical discourse. “True” homosexuals who, due to an innate
quality, are “honestly” attracted to those of the same sex and are thus “wrongly accused.”
“False” homosexuals are not homosexual, but as Hirschfeld writes, “bisexual at best” and
use their sexual drive for financial gain; thus, they are “justly accused” (Geschlecht 320). 30 This
is the reason that Radszuweit “[. . .] condemns those [homosexual relationships] that are
based on money, but [. . .] portrays in glowing terms those which conform to the standards
of bourgeois respectability” (Jones 628): the first are not only not respectable, but they are
also not “homosexual.”
As if he “knows without knowing,” it is also in this way that Lammers differentiates
the “wrongly accused” and “true” homosexuals from the “justly accused” and “false”
homosexuals. The first bar, where mostly the latter are present, is not a respectable site:
Frech forderten sie Zigaretten und Bier. Setzten sich genau wie die
weiblichen Huren auf den Schoß der Männer und begannen mit
Liebkosungen. Gemeine Witze wurden laut erzählt, schweinische Zote rief
man von Tisch zu Tisch zu. Eine einzige Atmosphäre der Sexualität
herrschte in diesem Raum. (81)
“Weißt du, Helmut Hintze,” sagte er, “die Liebe dieser Burschen kommt mir
vor wie das brünstige Werben einer Hirschkuh. Die Männer, die für solche
Liebe noch bezahlen, sind doch wohl nicht wert, daß man sie bemitleidet.”
(83)
In contrast, the second bar that the Lammers brothers visit is a site of respectable, “true”
homosexuality:
“Weißt du, Helmut, unter diesen Menschen fühlt man sich auch als
Normalempfinder wohl. Dieses dezente Benehmen, diese ruhige Art im
Umgang miteinander; diese lachenden Gesichter, ob jung, ob alt, alle haben
etwas Freundschaftliches, man kann ruhig sagen, Familiäres, an sich. Alle
betrachten sich scheinbar als eine große Familie, die vom Schicksal
zusammengefügt, unlösbar miteinander verbunden ist.” (85)
“Ja, hier sind ja auch viele Freundespaare, die seit Jahrzehnten miteinander
verbunden sind,” erwiderte Helmut [!]. “Sieh dort in jener Ecke die beiden
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alten Männer, sie sind in diesen Kreisen sehr bekannt, und auch in unsern [!]
Kreisen spricht man mit Achtung von diesen beiden, die vor kurzer Zeit ihr
vierzigjähriges Freundschaftsjubiläum gefeiert haben. [. . .] Ganz besonders
stolz sind sie auf ihre gegenseitige Treue, die sich ein Leben lang gehalten
haben.” (86)
The visit to the third bar—a transvestite bar—serves mainly to embarrass Lammers. He is
immediately attracted to “[. . .] jene schmächtige Blonde an der Bar” (89)—until he learns
that “she” is a “he.” Today’s Judith Butler would cite such an experience as proof that
gender is not skin deep, but merely performance. Radszuweit’s negative, even spiteful
portrayal of the transvestites is purely aesthetic and not based on “scientific fact”—even
though he indirectly cites Hirschfeld as a source. For Radszuweit, the transvestites are
offensive simply because most heterosexuals equate homosexuality with effeminacy and
transvestism with homosexuality, thereby further separating homosexuality from
masculinity.31 “Helmut” explains that:
“die meisten Freier haben diese Biester unter den normalen Männern,
besonders wenn diese angetrunken sind. Auch ich bin vor Jahren einmal auf
so ein Stücke reingefallen und deshalb hasse und verachte ich diese
männlichen Dirnen im Frauenkleid. Die Mehrzahl dieser Kreaturen hat mit
der gleichgeschlechtlichen Liebe gar nichts zu tun. Sie empfinden völlig
normal, sind zum Teil verheiratet und haben Familie. Ihre Sucht geht
lediglich dahin, Weiberkleidung zu tragen. Ob das nun eine Veranlagung oder
eine fixe Idee ist, kann ich dir nicht sagen, da mußt du dir schon mal ein
Buch kaufen und selber nachlesen. Es gibt da eins, das heißt ‘Das 3.
Geschlecht’ – Die Transvestiten.” (92-93)
When entering the fourth bar, the Lammers are hit with such a horrible draft, “[. . .] so
stickig und rauchig, daß Erich Lammers unwillkürlich den Atem hielt” (93). The poor air
recalls the atmosphere of the bars in Der fromme Tanz (cf. p. 187) and signifies the offensive
nature of the bar’s clients, who are young male prostitutes and old men. One old man
defends his peers, saying that many men only take an interest in the well-being of these boys
who are between 14 and 17 years old. “Gewiß sind viele dieser Jungen verdorben und nicht
mehr zu retten, aber viele wären auch froh, wenn sie Arbeit und Obdach finden würden”
216
(95). The scene is so sentimental that it becomes kitsch: after singing a sad song from a film,
a “Friedhofsruhe” (95) lingers in the bar while some boys lay their head on the table and cry.
Truly, for many boys this is a “dead” end. Lammers realizes this and he himself takes a
“pedagogical interest” in two boys, telling them to meet him and Helmut at the Siegessäule the
next day. Whether Lammers’s involvement is realistic or not, the fact that he takes such a
personal interest in the lives of all homosexuals indicates the influence that such homosexual
topoi exert.
The tour ends in a bar whose patrons represent that “healthy masculinity” that is
prized in late Weimar male homosexual circles. Although the men sometimes jokingly refer
to each other with women’s names, Helmut explains that “[d]iese Männer hier lieben nur
reife Männer mit Bärte [sic], möglichst über dreißig Jahre, bis zum Greisenalter” (99)
Secondary male characteristics (e. g. the beard) are “proof” of virility. In addition, these men
are of the middle class or are well-situated workers: all working tax payers, as Lammers
notes. These are not just respectable homosexuals, but they are respectable men in every
sense of the contemporary gender construct. In addition, in this as in the other bars, the
collective respectability of the bar’s patrons determines the respectability of each individual
patron who visits the bar. Helmut’s “closing words” to the tour underscore this point:
“[. . .] Ich wollte dir nur die Verschiedenheit in dieser ganzen Materie zeigen,
damit du den Unterschied zwischen den guten und den schlechten
Gleichgeschlechtlichliebenden kennenlernst. Die Lokale, die wir heute
besucht haben, gaben dir ein Bild, daß es auch in diesen Kreisen
hochanständige und ehrbare Männer gibt. Ebenso aber auch Abschaum und
Auswurf wie im normalen Lager.” (99)
Separating the Wheat from the Chaff: Sexological Morality or Moral Sexology?
As the story progresses, it resembles more a morality play than a modern tale of the big city.
Lammers’s tour of homosexual Berlin will continue on the following evening. Helmut tells
217
Lammers that he will show Lammers “[. . .] alle Hauptplätze und Straßen [. . .], wo der
gewerbsmäßige männliche Strich sich aufhält. Wenn du das gesehen hast, dann wird dir auch
zum Bewußtsein kommen, wie die Erpressungen erstehen” (100). Helmut simultaneously
describes these topoi as sites of “false” homosexuality and criminal activity. The first thing the
brothers do that morning is meet the two boys whom Lammers promised to help.
At the Siegessäule, 19-year-old Karl Wieberneit and his 17-year-old “colleague” Heini
wait for the Lammers brothers. The speech of each indicates different education levels,
classes, and backgrounds. In superficial terms, Karl represents the “good” homosexual, who,
through no fault of his own, has ended up on the streets in Berlin. Heini represents the
“bad” homosexual, born and raised in the streets of Berlin, and for whom the streets are a
“preferred” home. Karl is willing to take any work, even if it means leaving Berlin, but Heini,
whose girlfriend Anni is herself a prostitute, is reluctant to leave Anni in a lurch with her
alcoholic father.32 In disgust, Karl says: “Du willst also das Leben weiterführen, das doch
schließlich dahin geht, daß man ein Verbrecher wird?” (103). To this, Heini responds:
“Verbrecher hin, Verbrecher her, meenste denn, det du besser bist als icke, wenn du beim
Bauer arbeetest und ick auf de Pupe gehe? Ich kann och als Strichjunge ehrlich bleiben”
(103).
The Lammers brothers arrive and Erich explains that the job “[. . .] ist draußen in der
Provinz, auf einem großen Gut. [. . .] Vor allem aber hast du gute Verpflegung und eine
anständige Schlafkammer” (104). Upon hearing this, Heini turns and returns to the streets.
Karl gladly accepts the job. The three sit down on a bench, and Karl tells his life story. True
to Hirschfeld’s differentiation of the “true” homosexual from the “false” homosexual, Karl
is of homosexual orientation. For this reason alone, respectable society (school, family)
rejected Karl, and, through no fault of his own, the streets become Karl’s home. Now, with
218
Erich’s help, Karl, the “true” homosexual, can escape the criminal world of the street and
turn back to the idyllic and respectable province: a Bekehrung (repentance) in every sense of
the word.
The second tour takes the Lammers brothers and Karl to those topoi in the
homosexual subculture that distinguish between “true” and “false” homosexuals, thus aiding
Lammers and the reader in the “moral” task of separating the wheat from the chaff. The
first stop is the Tauentzienstraße, where not homosexual men, but female dominas wait for
potential “Opfer” (111). They are “offensive” in their masculinity; their tight clothing, high
boots, and bridle that they carry are “[. . .] Reizmittel für perverse, krankhafte Männer, deren
Gefühle vollständig erloschen sind. Die Weiber sind wie die Bestien [. . .]. Umsonst machen
sie natürlich nichts, jede Handbewegung muß bezahlt werden” (110-11).
The next stop is Wittenbergplatz, where grotesquely effeminate male prostitutes seek
customers. Their effeminacy offends Lammers, whose moral judgement recalls das männliche
Narrativ of the Father: “Diese Menschen können doch nur Mißachtung hervorrufen” (111).
As if citing Jesus, Helmut answers, “Die sind sich ihres Tuns nicht bewußt” (111).33
However, nothing could be further from the truth: Wittenbergplatz is the site of “false”
homosexuality, and these young men are consciously performing effeminacy for profit:
“Der größte Teil dieser Burschen ist gar nicht gleichgeschlechtlich veranlagt,
sondern vollständig normal. Sie geben sich nur so feminin, um einen Freier
zu finden. In eingeweihten Kreisen werden sie nur mit dem Ausdruck ‘Arme
Irre’ bezeichnet.” (111-12)
The three then head to the Tiergarten, a homosexual topos that to this day remains that
topographical nexus of homosexual identity, activity, and literary imagination in Berlin. At
this site, the homosexual—regardless of class or background—discards any mask he might
normally have to wear in “respectable society.” On the Pupenalle [sic] “[. . .] ist alles neutral”
(113).34 On a literary level, the narrative softens its moral tone accordingly. The men here
219
who “[. . .] nur .rein körperlichen Anschluß suchen” (115) are, as Lammers notes from their
horn-rimmed spectacles (!), not only from the upper class, but are men of power, who do
not dare to be seen in homosexual bars. In the natural surroundings of the Tiergarten, these
men are often easy prey for “false” homosexuals.35 These male prostitutes either rob them in
the park or wait to blackmail them: “Zuerst wird gebettelt, und wenn das nicht hilft, wird mit
Drohungen vorgegangen. Hunderte, man kann ruhig sagen, Tausende solcher Männer
befinden sich in Erpesserhänden. Gerade die, die alles ängstlich verbergen, sind ihre Opfer”
(116). As Hirschfeld has stated, § 175 serves only to protect the “false” homosexuals while
the lives of “true” homosexuals—still lacking a respectable identity in the eyes of the law—
are ruined.
Leaving the Pupenallee [sic] behind, the three make their way to the Prinzessinnensteg, a
site of “respectable male prostitution,” as it were. Although Helmut calls this a
Prostituiertenstraße, sex for money is out of the question here. Hirschfeld writes about those
“true” homosexuals who are forced or who force themselves into heterosexual marriage in
order to “cure” their homosexuality. The Prinzessinnensteg is their topos: married middle-class
homosexuals meet here “[. . .] nicht um Geld zu verdienen, sondern um einen ‘Partner aus
Liebe’ zu finden” (118). In addition to the Prinzessinnensteg, there are also the grüne Diele in
northeast Berlin and the Feuerwehrwiese in east Berlin where “[. . .] sehr oft Freundschaften
von Gleichgeschlechtlichliebenden geschlossen [werden], die jahrelang zusammenbleiben”
(118). Although “respectable working men” meet here, the respectability of these sites is
ambivalent; a halfway-station somewhere along the way from bourgeois respectablilty and
homosexual self-negation to homosexual self-determination.
As in Klaus Mann’s Der fromme Tanz, both “true” and “false” homosexuals meet well
past respectable social hours. It is already 2:30 in the morning when the three head to the
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“Lagerstätte der Ärmsten” (118) near Alexanderplatz. Although Karl warns Lammers not to
be to quick to judge, the poverty of the poorest societal outsiders strongly offends
Lammers’s bourgeois respectability:
“Hier scheint es mir, als ob der Auswurf der Prostitution sich zu einem
Stelldichein zusammengefunden hat. Diese aufgedunsenen Gesichter der
älteren Männer, denen man schon von weitem den übermäßigen
Alkoholgenuß ansieht, diese jungen, ausgemergelten Burschen, die aussehen,
als ob sie nur von Zigaretten und Wasser leben, dazu alle zerlumpt und
schmutzig bis zum Ekel, wirken abstoßend.” (119)
After a run-in with “Frau Hintze,” the three make their way to the “Pensionat für ideale
Junggesellen” (122). Asking the owner if they could take a look at how the homeless live, the
owner’s response stresses the elite subject position of the three (and of contemporary
sociologists, such as Ostwald): “Ich habe hier kein Museum, das zu besichtigen ist” (123).
However, a small sum guarantees entrance, and via Lammers and Karl, the reader is
“witness” to the social injustices brought about by § 175. The owner becomes Radszuweit’s
mouthpiece. He repeats much of what has been stated earlier about male prostitution, but
here it is suggested that the male prostitutes—the “false” homosexuals—are also “victims”
of society:
“Eine Hilfsaktion für diese hier ist nicht so wichtig, wie eine Hilfsaktion zur
Umformung unserer Gesellschaftsordnung, deren Opfer, [sic] zum größten
Teil diese Menschen sind. Sie werden doch wissen, daß fast neunzig Prozent
aller männlichen Prostituierten vollständig normal empfinden, also nicht mit
der gleichgeschlechtlichen Veranlagung gar nichts zu tun haben. – Viele
dieser Burschen und Männer haben Widerwillen, ja sogar Abscheu und Ekel
für jeden gleichgeschlechtlichen Verkehr und trotzdem verkaufen sie ihren
Körper, weil sie bittere Not und Elend dazu zwingen.” (125-26)
While Hirschfeld’s main interest in Geschlecht und Verbrechen is to isolate “false”
homosexuality / male prostitution from “true,” respectable homosexuality, Radszuweit takes
the argument a step further. While he is critical of the male prostitutes, he also recognizes
that the economic situation in 1931 in Berlin is largely to “blame” for this problem. This
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really was a prevalent social issue, as shown by the protagonist “Max” in Walter Schönstedt’s
1933 novel Motiv unbekannt: “Auch bei Max war der Hunger stärker als der Ekel. Als er im
Mai 1932 auf den Strich ging, gab es in Berlin 10 000 gezählte Strichjungens” (49).
Versöhnung: Deconstructing the “Männliche Narrative”
Having “saved” brother Herbert and the young homosexual Karl from the Moloch that is
Berlin, Lammers brings both to the pastoral setting of Schamin, the Lammers’ hometown.
The morality play is almost at an end; after ten years the prodigal son has returned to the
father—and to Rotberg—to beg for forgiveness.36
Lammers first introduces Kurt to his parents. Feigning a bad cough, Lammers is
“unable” to clearly pronounce Herbert’s name, thus keeping Herbert’s true identity a secret.
“[. . .] In salbungsvollem Ton,” Pastor Lammers welcomes the guests with the words: “Möge
euch, der leider nur auf einige Tage in meinem Hause berechnete Aufenthalt, Ruhe und
Frieden bringen. Im Namen unseres allverzeihenden Gottes heiße ich euch in meinem
Hause willkommen” (128). Pastor Lammers’s voice is that of the Father, both as theological
discourse/the voice of God and also as that männliches Narrativ of “the father,” the patriarch
in the modern family. His voice is vested with the authority not only to “condemn” and
isolate those outsiders in the family and in society, but also to “forgive” them, thereby
“granting” inclusion in the collective respectable family.
In contrast to Vogel’s Alf, the subject position of the homosexual in Radszuweit’s
Männer zu verkaufen does not allow for a rejection or overthrow of the männliches Narrativ, but
rather relies on Versöhnung, or reconciliation with it. In that Herbert seeks forgiveness not
only from Pastor Lammers but also from Baron von Rotberg, Radszuweit divides the role of
“the father” between Pastor Lammers and Rotberg. If for no other reason than his nobility,
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Rotberg belongs to respectable society. His sexual respectability is underscored by the fact
that he is a “true homosexual”; further, his primary interest in Herbert/Helmut was
Helmut’s well-being. After learning from Erich that Helmut Hinzte was not homosexual,
Rotberg says:
“[T]rotzdem hätte ich Helmut Hintze gern geholfen, auch wenn er meine
Liebe nicht erwidern konnte. Ich wollte ihm ja nicht aus Eigennutz helfen,
sondern weil ich ihn liebte, und meine Liebe danach drängte, ihm Gutes zu
tun” (139-40)
As in Alf, it is at the dinner table—a definitive topos of “family”—where the father/son
conflict comes to a head. After saying grace, Pastor Lammers asks the name of Erich’s
friend, the response being “Herbert Lammers.” Whereas the mother embraces Herbert,
[d]em Pastor glitt das Glas aus der zitternden Hand. Leichenblässe überzog
sein Gesicht. Er schloß die Augen und lehnte sich stöhnend in seinen Stuhl
zurück. (130)
This challenge to Pastor Lammers’s authority almost brings about the “death” of “the
father” and his authoritarian narrative. Just the same, when the others leave the table, Pastor
Lammers declares once again to Erich:
Du als zukünftiger Geistlicher achtest nicht den Willen deines Vaters. Ich
habe dir gesagt, Herbert ist tot. Wenn ich dir auch den Grund verschwieg,
weshalb ich ihn nicht mehr als Sohn anerkenne, so bist du doch verpflichtet,
meine Maßnahmen zu befolgen. (131)
Warding off his father who comes at him with balled fists, Lammers repeats the greeting that
his father had spoken “[i]m Namen des allverzeihenden Gottes” (131). Lammers shows his
father that he too has access to theological discourse. Pastor Lammers orders his son to be
quiet. When Lammers continues and calls his father a hypocrite, his father commands him
again: “Schweig, [. . .] oder ich lasse euch alle drei mit den Hunden sofort vom Hof hetzen!”
(132).
223
Pastor Lammers’s attempt to retain moral and patriarchal authority within his family backfires.
Undermining Pastor Lammers’s authority with “moral” blackmail, Lammers says to him:
Alle Welt soll wissen, daß sein von ihm verstoßener Sohn Herbert unter
falschem Namen zehn Jahre in Berlin sich als männliche Dirne prostituierte.
Alle Welt soll wissen, daß der Sohn des Pastors Lammers ein Erpresser auf
Grund des Paragraphen 175 war. Ob dieser Pastor dann noch ein ehrenvolles
Begräbnis haben wird, bleibe dahingestellt. Ich habe hier nichts mehr zu
vollbringen und verlasse mit den beiden andern sofort das Haus. (133)
Pastor Lammers tells his wife to go to his son and to tell him to stay. When she enters the
room, all three men are crying, which makes her cry. However, Erich insists that she not cry,
since Herbert has been “saved.” He not only honors his given name as a label of
respectability, but his alter ego “Helmut Hintze” has been left behind in Berlin:
Nicht weinen, Mütterchen, alles wird noch gut werden. Herbert hat den
Namen Lammers zu schätzen gewußt. Er ist dem Sumpf der Großstadt
entronnen und wird nie wieder dorthin zurückkehren. Auch der Vater wird
noch zur Vernunft kommen. (134)
Indeed, after talking with “his God,” Pastor Lammers forgives Herbert.
The next day, Herbert, Erich, and Pastor Lammers go to Rotberg. Rotberg is now a
widower; the Baroness’s last “tantrum” was the cause of a deadly stroke. The Baroness’s son
is so happy to see Erich, that upon brushing the boy’s cheek,
[d]a schlang diese junge Menschenseele plötzlich beide Arme um Erichs Hals
und küßte ihn. Baron Rotberg nickte mit dem Kopf, als ob er sagen wollte,
Jürgen ist mir seelenverwandt, trotzdem ich nicht sein Vater bin. (137-38)
Erich remains alone with the Baron, and tells the Baron that “Helmut Hintze ist tot und
niemand weiß wo er ruht” (139). The blackmailer Helmut Hintze is unmasked as Lammers's
brother, Herbert. After this coming-out of sorts, Herbert and Pastor Lammers are called in.
Seeing Herbert, Rotberg takes his hands, gives him a fatherly kiss on the forehead, and says:
“Ich habe Dich immer geliebt, meine Liebe ist rein und ohne Eigennutz. Ich
weiß jetzt, daß du anders empfindest als ich und meine Liebe nicht so erwidern
konntest wie es zwischen zwei gleichgeschlechtlich Veranlagten der Fall sein
soll, aber dennoch werde ich dich lieben, solange ich lebe, ohne daß ich von dir
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Gegenliebe erwarte. Nun ist alles vergessen, was hinter uns liegt. [. . .] Wenn es
dir gut geht, werde ich immer glücklich und zufrieden sein.” (141)
It is perhaps the moral of this morality play that the love of the Father/father should be so
great and forgiving as that of Baron von Rotberg. Erich was relieved that there had not been
such as scene as in his father’s house, and
Pastor Lammers hatte innerlich tief bewegt der Szene zugeschaut. Wie groß
und erhaben, wie edel muß doch das Empfinden dieses Mannes sein, dachte
er und schämte sich seiner Handlungen, die er als Vater an seinem Kinde
begangen hatte. (141-42).
Versöhnung has been achieved; not only between Pastor Lammers and Herbert and Rotberg
and Herbert. Perhaps more importantly in the context of Männer zu verkaufen, there is
Versöhnung between Pastor Lammers, the voice of the männliches Narrativ, of theological
discourse, and Baron von Rotberg, the “respectable” homosexual, the voice of a
“respectable homosexual narrative.” Criminal elements such as Helmut Hintze and male
prostitutes and their respective topoi are left behind by Herbert and Karl respectively, who
pledge to live a more “moral” life in a more rural Germany.
Conclusion: Not Clothes Make the Homosexual, but Where He Lays His Hat
In terms of a homosexual identity, topography is perhaps a larger factor than one’s actual
sexual orientation. Since the time of Friedrich the Great, Berlin has been a “homosexual
topos.” In positive terms, Berlin is that homosexual place in space and in time where
homosexual emancipation blossomed forth in Hirschfeld’s sexology, homosexual literature,
and groups that fought for civil rights. Seen negatively, Berlin is that “Sodom and
Gomorrah” where a post-World War I moral and political vacuum allowed for the
“uncontrolled growth” of homosexuality. Homosexuality was that social scourge that
marked the criminal intersection of pathology, drug addiction, and male prostitution. When
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examining contemporary medical texts such as those of Hirschfeld, sociological texts such as
those of Ostwald, and contemporary literary works such as those of Klaus Mann and
Friedrich Radszuweit, it becomes clear that Weimar homosexuality encompassed both of the
above spheres. Although contemporary texts might be written in terms of “respectable” vs.
“degenerate,” it is the job of today’s Germanist to eliminate (or at least not to add) any moral
qualifications to Weimar homosexuality. Instead, today’s Germanist should strive to
incorporate all texts in order to construct a picture that is as complete as possible.
Three events in 1919 that are crucial in establishing Berlin’s status as the center of
homosexual emancipation during the Weimar period frame this chapter’s discussion: the
premiere of Hirschfeld’s and Oswald’s film Anders als die Andern, the opening of Hirschfeld’s
Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, and the foundation of the Berliner Freundesbund e. V., a
homosexual organization that, with other German homosexual organizations, would later
become the pan-German homosexual organization Bund für Menschenrecht (BfM). Friedrich
Radszuweit, publisher and author, would lead this organization until his death in 1932. It has
been and can be argued that these three events are marked by the revolutionary character of
the November Revolution in Germany. Inspired by this revolutionary spirit, leaders of the
homosexual emancipation movement believed that the repeal of § 175 would soon follow.
However, just the opposite would be the case. Not only would Anders als die Andern
be censored in 1920, but the “Gesetz zur Bewahrung der Jugend vor Schund- und
Schmutzliteratur” (§ 184) (see ch. 2) would threaten the autonomy of the modernist
homosexual aesthetic. More important in the scope of this chapter, the introduction of a
larger list of offenses based on male-male contact sharpened § 175. These social/cultural
events left homosexuals of all classes—from Hirschfeld and his scientific/medical circle, to
Brand’s esoteric aesthetic circle, to Radszuweit’s middle- and lower-class homosexual
226
audience—questioning their status and their self-determination vis-à-vis the law. For
Hirschfeld, it was clear that homosexuality was not an issue of concern of the State, but of
science and medicine. (The eugenic discussion of homosexuality extends the scope of this
study, but such a study should be undertaken.)
If homosexual aesthetes such as Kurt Hiller still sought the homosexual novel in
191437, the search would continue in 1925 when Klaus Mann wrote Der fromme Tanz. Largely
rejecting Hirschfeld and the WhK, Klaus Mann’s post World-War I disillusionment colors his
literary portrayal of the Lost Generation. As much as the Third Sex Theory defines sexually
ambiguous characters such as “Paulchen,” the characters’ homosexuality in Der fromme Tanz
are defined more so by the places that they frequent. These homosexual topoi lie both
figuratively and literally far from the respectable norm. Open late at night, often poorly lit,
and sometimes literally underground, the homosexual bars in Der fromme Tanz are those sites
of vice that not only contradict Hirschfeld’s portrayal of respectable homosexual locales, but
also confirm the fears of “respectable” bourgeois society as enunciated in Hans Ostwald’s
Sittengeschichte der Inflation. The homosexual social status as outsider is only strengthened when
linked with criminal activity, be it “cocaineism” or male prostitution. True to the title of
Certeau’s article, “Walking in the City” not only determines the subject’s relationship to
his/her environs, but also creates a subject identity. The “tour” of the homosexual bars
define the subject position of the protagonist Andreas via a “pedestrian speech act.”
However, Andreas’s “path” in the Berlin underworld is not clear to him: he remains lost in
the Verwirrungen of the time and never achieves self-determination.
Although very convinced of his own importance within the homosexual movement,
Radszuweit never took away from Hirschfeld’s scientific contributions to the movement.
Radszuweit published Hirschfeld’s Third Sex theory and other writings in Die Freundschaft in
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more reader-friendly language. In disseminating “medical” knowledge of the homosexual
object of study, Radszuweit furthered the shift of the homosexual’s “object” position to that
of the self-determining “subject.” As is the case in Hirschfeld’s Geschlecht und Verbrechen,
Radszuweit’s Männer zu verkaufen does that which Mann had not set out to do: differentiate
the “true” from the “false” homosexual vis-à-vis homosexual topoi such as homosexual bars
and “cruising areas.” Although Hirschfeld argues that sexuality is not a moral but a scientific
matter, male prostitutes become his moral scapegoat in defining the respectability of “true”
homosexuals. “True” homosexuals are homosexual by nature; “false” homosexuals
“perform” homosexuality—regardless if prostitution, or blackmail, or both—for profit.
Männer zu verkaufen, which begins as a crime novel and ends as a morality play, is
nothing more than a string of unmaskings—or “Enthüllungen.” Baron von Rotberg is not the
patriarch of the household, but the timid homosexual; Baroness von Rotberg is not a woman
of honor, but had a child out of wedlock; “Helmut Hintze” is neither a blackmailer nor a
homosexual, but rather “Herbert Lammers,” the “heterosexual” son of the respectable
Pastor Lammers. Despite its many references to § 175, Männer zu verkaufen does not promote
homosexual emancipation, but homosexual conformity. Similar to Hirschfeld’s literary
strategy in Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, the respectable topoi of the “true” homosexual are a
reflection of his respectability. Conversely, the criminal element—the “false” homosexuals
that prostitute themselves—are portrayed in the musty bars, dark streets, and in the Tierpark
by night. Topography is essential not only in establishing the respectability of the “true”
homosexuals. It is also important in divorcing any reference of criminality from homosexual
identity, therefore allowing for a normalization of “respectable” homosexuals. Although this
never completely came to pass, the normalization of the respectable homosexual is achieved
only when other social outsiders are further ostracized from the norm.
228
Notes to Chapter 4
1
Among the various critical analyses of Anders als die Andern, STEAKLEY, “Cinema,”
is arguably the most detailed study of the film, providing the background of the homosexual
emancipation movement, Hirschfeld’s roles in the movement and in the film, and, true to
the article’s title, how such films were affected by censorship in the Weimar period.
KUZNIAR, Queer German Cinema, derives many arguments and quotations (one of the same
has been cited in this study) from STEAKLEY, “Cinema.” KUZNIAR takes her discussion
further, providing a thorough account of sexuality, gender, and aesthetics in Weimar cinema
and how Anders. fits therein. HERRN, “Darstellung des Arztes,” describes the role of the
“doctor” in Weimar Sexualaufklärungsfilmen. The discussion is based on Anders and Steinachs
Forschungen (Berlin: UFA, 1922).
2
In 1927, ENGLISCH would include Hirschfeld’s film in his study of the Geschichte der
erotischen Literatur: “Schließlich sei noch der Film erwähnt, der ja nichts als eine anschauliche
Erzählung in Bildern. In frischer Erinnerung werden noch die sogenannten
‘Aufklärungsfilme’ sein, die unter der Ägide von Magnus Hirschfeld ins Leben gerufen
wurde, um über die Gefahren des Geschlechtslebens Aufschluß zu geben. Allein der an sich
gute Gedanke wurde bald in sein Gegenteil verkehrt. Anstatt zu warnen, machten die
Flimfabrikanten ein Geschäft daraus, indem sie diese Films mit Pikanterien würzten, so daß
man viel eher von ‘Verführungsfilms’ sprechen konnte” (279).
3
For a detailed history of the Institute, its personnel, and its programs, see: BERLIN
MUSEUM, HERZER, Magnus; INSTITUTE. ISHERWOOD’s colorful retrospective of life in Berlin
in the 1920s (this of course includes the Institute) lies somewhere between literature and
documentary.
4
“Inhaltlich legte der Bund auf die wissenschaftliche Argumentation keinen so
großen Wert wie das WhK. Trotzdem wurde die Theorie der ‘konstitutionellen Anlage’ der
Homosexuellen in Aufklärungsschriften des BfM verbreitet. Seine Vertreter betonten immer
die rechtliche Seite, nämlich, daß homosexuelle Handlungen nicht in die Rechte Dritter
eingreifen würden” (BAUMGARDT 40).
5
Earlier in the passage, HERZER comments: “Bald stellte sich aber heraus, dass
infolge der zunehmenden Zerrüttung der parlamentarischen und ökonomischen Verhältnisse
der Reichstag gar nicht mehr fähig war, den Beschlüssen der Strafrechtsausschusses
Gesetzeskraft zu verleihen” (Magnus 147).
6
Hirschfeld worked as a “co-author” on this book; it is argued that his name appears
in this work only to legitimize it in the legal and medical communities. HIRSCHFELD
Sexualität und Kriminalität is a more proper source and will be consulted in later stages of this
project.
7
See SEKULA.
8
It should be mentioned that in its tone and theme, Der fromme Tanz was, like Vogel’s
Alf, an enunciation of the younger generation’s “confusion” resulting from World War I,
their criticism of the older generation, and a portrayal of homosexual persons. In the Vorwort,
MANN writes: “Kein Buch vielleicht hat es nötiger, am Anfang gleich um Entschuldigung zu
bitten, um seine Wirrnis willen, als eines, das aus unserer Jugend kommt, von unserer Jugend
handelt, und nichts sein, nichts bedeuten möchte, als Ausdruck, Darstellung und Geständnis
dieser Jugend, ihrer Not, ihrer Verwirrung – und ihrer hohen Hoffnung vielleicht.
‘Ich werde mich zahlreichen Vorwürfen aussetzen’, heißt der erste Satz eines
erschütternden Romans, den ein Siebzehnjähriger drüben in Frankreich schrieb: ‘Aber was
kann ich dafür? Ist es meine Schuld, daß ich einige Monate vor der Kriegserklärung zwölf
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Jahre alt war? Zweifellos waren die Verwirrungen, die diese außergewöhnliche Zeit für mich
mit sich brachte, so, wie man ist sonst niemals in diesem Alter empfindet. Ich bin nicht der
einzige.’ – Das schrieb Raymond Radiguet, dem es bestimmt war, mit zwanzig Jahren zu
sterben” (7).
9
It is interesting that Andreas gains access to the discourse—or language—of the
city from a woman. Here, gender roles have been (inadvertently?) reversed. This point
deserves further consideration.
10
That the references in Der fromme Tanz—from the father/son “genius” conflict to
the aforementioned pub crawl—are autobiographical, is not to be denied. Writing to Erich
Ebermayer from Munich, “15.1.26,” MANN notes: “Ich bleibe wahrscheinlich noch bis zum
23. hier und breche dann zu meiner ‘Tournée’ auf und ab Mitte Februar werde ich dann in
Berlin sein. Du mußt dann einmal herüber kommen, wir müssen das ‘Paradiesgärtlein’ und
den ‘Sankt-Margareten-Keller’ besuchen” (Briefe 29).
11
For contemporary social critics, cocaineism (Kokainismus) was a symptom of
Weimar decadence; a symbol of a pleasure-seeking consumer culture that threatened the
“healthy” core of German society. The character of Boris in Der fromme Tanz shows that
sometimes homosexuality and cocaineism go hand in hand. OSTWALD portrays cocaineism
as an effeminate sickness fuelled by rich male foreigners: “Die Blasse hielt ihre feine
schlanke Hand mit den polierten Nägeln hin und sagte heißhungrig und gebieterisch: ‘Ko . .
.’” (Sittengeschichte 121). SCHLEICH’S representation equates cocaineism with a longing for the
fast-paced life of Weimar. While warning his readers of cocaine addiction, SCHLEICH—like
MANN—is empathetic to these addicts: “Can one really hold it against those afflicted with
toil and burdens, the failed and the broken, the hopeless pariahs of this earth, if they fall
victim to this nirvana? Let them seek here and perhaps find a kind of beautiful death, a
euthanasia, let them commit suicide on the path of pleasure” (723).
12
The fantasy of the black individual’s eroticism and exoticism (e.g. fear/fantasy of
French colonial African soldiers in the Saarland) and the commodification thereof in Weimar
Germany is an interesting topic that extends the scope of this study. Cf. THEWELEIT 1: “Die
Gräfin von Schloß Sythen: Die weiße Krankenschwester.”
13
MANN held a similar mistrust for Hirschfeld’s Wissenschaftlich-humanitäre Komitee
(WhK). Writing to Erich Eberhard, MANN not only suggests that the two must not only
make a tour of Berlin night life upon Eberhard’s arrival in Berlin: “[. . .] wir müssen [. . .]
auch Professor Hirschfeld die männliche Rechte schütteln. Daß dieser übrigens mich allen
Ernstes aufgefordert hat, einen Vortrag über ‘die Rolle der Erotik in der modernen Literatur’
zu halten, ist auch nicht ohne” (Briefe 29-30). Klaus Mann made similar remarks in a letter to
his sister Erika (see ZYNDA 45).
14
HIRSCHFELD claims that it is not the male anus, but the “Fruchtbarkeitschance”
that is subject to legal protection. Yet this does not explain why male-male anal intercourse is
a criminal offense, while male-female anal intercourse is only a civil offense and possible
grounds for a woman to request a divorce (Geschlecht 307). Hirschfeld suggests “[. . .] daß die
Deutschen eigentlich gar nicht wissen, warum sie die homosexuelle Betätigung strafen
wollen” (308).
15
Exact figures are neither available in OSTWALD, Männliche; nor in HIRSCHFELD,
Berlins; nor in HIRSCHFELD, Geschlecht.
16
See “UNSERE RUNDFRAGE” and “DAS ERGEBNIS.”
17
The exact address reads “Berlin S 14, Neue Jakobstraße 9. Tel.: Moritzplatz 169 45.
[I]st mit allen Straßenbahnen, die den Spittelmarkt, den Moritzplatz oder die Köpenicker
230
Straße berühren, zu erreichen. 2 Minuten vom Untergrundbahnhof Inselbrücke [today’s
“Mitte”]” (“UNSERE GESCHÄFTSSTELLE”).
18
Der Eigene was meant for only a small circle, and the number that was printed was
strictly controlled. However, what is new is that whereas once only group members were
allowed access to these journals, most of these journals were now easily accessible both at
homosexual and at mainstream bookstores/newsstands.
19
Other Radszuweit titles include “Freunde Novelle (vergriffen)” and “Paul Titzkis
Lebensweg,” which has the characteristics of a Naturalist novel: “Tagebuchblätter eines mit dem
Makel der Blutschande behafteten Menschen sind der Hauptinhalt der Schrift. Daneben finden
wir Leidensschilderungen des Landarbeiterproletariats, die dem Leben entnommen sind. Der
Alkohol zeigt seine Wirkung. Andere sexuelle Dinge werden berührt. Der Schreiber des
Tagebuches verübt schließlich Selbstmord. Ein ernstes Buch” (RADSZUWEIT 143).
20
“Zwei Auflagen / Männer zu verkaufen / Roman von Friedrich Radszuweit /
restlos vergriffen! Am 15. Februar erscheint die 3. Auflage / Bestellungen werden vornotiert
und können erst denn ausgeführt werden. / Martin Radszuweit-Verlag” (“ZWEI AUFLAGEN”).
21 According to Hirschfeld, the “heterosexual” make-up of the Rotberg couple is
marked by “metatropism”: a feminine husband and a masculine wife.
22
“Kohlrausch” > “Kohle” (money, cocaine) + “Rausch” (intoxication, ecstasy): I
suggest that this is a sprechender Name.
23
HIRSCHFELD argues that the prison is not an institution for reform, but “[. . .] daß
das Gefängnis für sexuell Labile und Psychopathen eine Zucht- und Brutanstalt für
Weiterzüchtung von Perversitäten und Perversionen darstellt, und daß Gefängnis und
Zuchthaus Hochschulen der gleichgeschlechtlichen ‘Unzucht’ darstellen, und daß man das,
was man züchtigen will, bewußt nur züchtet” (Geschlecht 321).
24
Granted, Rotberg was not forced to marry, yet what were his alternatives? It would
have meant that he must leave the “respectable” topos—and therewith, his respectability—of
his parents’ home and enter that homosexual topos of the Großstadt, where he could live with
his male partner. This is even more problematic in the fact that, like Schnitzler’s Fräulein Else,
the child has been “sold” as a sexual object to save the parents’ good name. Truly, Else’s
relationship to Dorsday differs from that between Rotberg and Baroness in that Else was of
a younger generation than Dorsday, and Dorsday had no intent of marrying Else. However,
both Else and Rotberg have been reduced to an object of exchange—a role typically
reserved for the woman.
25
Cf. the description of east Berliners Ludwig and Willi by west Berliners in
HAFFNER: “Was wollen schließlich die paar Bettler bedeuten? Die gehören doch gar nicht in
diese Gegend. Die sind doch aus dem anderen Berlin, aus irgendeinem muffigen Keller oder
dem Quergebäude irgendeines dreckigen Hofes gekommen, um hier zu betteln. Das andere
Berlin ... [. . .] Und Jungens wie sie sieht man hier auch fast gar nicht. Und wenn, dann gehen
sie hier auf den Strich” (19).
26
A comparison of these descriptions with those in MORECK will be undertaken in a
later project.
27
Examples include HAFFNER: “Ludwig und Willi tippeln durch die Menschen- und
Lichtfluten der Tauentzienstraße” (19) and MANN: “Inzwischen war dann der kleine
brünette Herr im Smoking drüben im Tanzbassin erschienen, übertrieben jubelnder Beifall
begrüßte ihn, er stemmte den Arm anmutsvoll in die Hüfte und sang sein Liedchen: ‘Willst
du einen Freier haben, mußt du auf Tauentzien traben— — ’ Und die Strichjungen traten
den Takt dazu mit den Lackschuhen” (Fromme Tanz 81).
28
231
JONES labels the Lammers brothers as “two heterosexual men” (623); however,
based on Erich’s “humanitarian” interest in the homosexual subculture and Herbert’s
homosexual experiences (nowhere does Herbert state that the homosexual act itself
produces feelings of disgust), I would not be so quick to isolate the two completely from
homosexuality.
29
RADSZUWEIT 78.
30
In Berlins, HIRSCHFELD uses exactly this terminology (“true”/”false”) when
discussing male prostitution. However, at that time he did not separate “the homosexual”
from “the male prostitute”: “Die männlichen Prostituierten zerfallen in zwei Gruppen, in
solche, die normalgeschlechtlich und in solche, die ‘echt’, d. h. selbst homosexuell sind”
(119). Hirschfeld does goes on to (de)qualify these male homosexual prostitutes as “[. .
.]stark feminin, und einige gehen auch gelegentlich in Weiberkleidern aus, was jedoch in den
Kreisen der weibliche Prostituierten übel vermerkt wird” (120).
31
The photography in Radszuweit’s journals of the late twenties and early thirties
also reflect a trend away from any effeminate traits and instead a predominance of
“hypermasculine” homosexuals. See ch. 2.
32
An educated reader who is familiar with Hirschfeld’s work, would immediately
realize that this boy is not a “bad” homosexual—but a “false” homosexual. Already in 1904,
HIRSCHFELD writes of heterosexual couples who prostitute themselves: “Unter den Berliner
Prostituierten kommen vielfach eigentümliche Paarungen vor. So tun sich normale
männliche Prostituierte, die sogenannten Pupenluden, nicht selten mit normalen weiblichen
Prostituierten zu gemeinsamer ‘Arbeit’ zusammen [. . .]” (Berlins 120).
33
Cf. Die Bibel, Lukas 23.34: “Jesus aber sprach: Vater, vergib ihnen; denn sie wissen
nicht, was sie tun!”
34
In his discussion of the “widerliche Homosexualität,” HIRSCHFELD includes
“Karikaturen eines Homosexuellen auf dem Puppenstrich” and a “Homosexuelle Karikatur
auf Puppenprostitution” (Geschlecht 321). “Pup(p)enjunge,” “Pup(p)enstrich,” and
“Pup(p)enallee” stem from “Pupe der oder die; -n, -n (ugs. abschätzig für: Homosexueller;
berlin. auch für: abgestandenes, verdorbenes Weißbier)” (“Pupe”).
35
Some passages in RADSZUWEIT WERE more than likely gleaned from HIRSCHFELD
Berlins. An example is when Helmut tells Erich and Kurt about how homosexuals choose
their in the dark of the Tiergarten: “Waren zwei miteinander handelseinig, so gingen sie bis
zur nächsten Laterne, um sich noch einmal im Licht zu beschauen [. . .]. Einige waren so
frech, daß sie ein Streichholz ansteckten, dem Jungen befahlen die Mütze abzunehmen und
ihm ins Gesicht leuchteten” (RADSZUWEIT 114). Cf. HIRSCHFELD Berlins, where he describes
the “‘keß und jemeene,’” one of two homosexual Strich areas in the Tiergarten: “Hier ist jener
alten halbrunden Tiergartenbänke, auf der in den Stunden vor Mitternacht an dreißig
Prostituierte und Obdachlose dicht nebeneinander sitzen[. . .]. Sie nennen diese Bank die
‘Kunstausstellung’. Dann und wann kommt ein Mann, steckt ein Wachsstreichholz an und
leuchtet die Reihe ab” (118).
36 ERHART recognizes the importance of the prodigal son myth in the development
of “das männliche Narrativ.” In his Preface, he writes: “Aus Söhnen sollen Männer werden,
und sie sollen es bleiben: Diese Gebrauchsanleitung zur Herstellung geschlechtlicher
Identität bildet kein zeitloses Rezept, sondern wird historisch jeweils neu und anders gefüllt
– und vor allem neu erzählt” (20).
37
See HILLER.
232
Conclusion
This study inquires into the development and use of aesthetic strategies towards a male
homosexual self-determination in Wilhelmine and Weimar Germany. This period marks a
time of body crisis in Germany. In the context of this study, “body” is to be understood in
its variety of meanings: the collective German body politic, the individual’s body, and the
identity that is connected to his/her body. First and foremost, this term is to be understood
as the physical body: that object of medical study that has been qualified and categorized
through the discourses of medicine and criminology.
The body is the starting point when determining a societal norm. If a body is
“healthy” and exhibits those primary and secondary sexual characteristics either of a male or
of a woman, it is of a “normal” sex. It then follows that a normal, healthy male dresses as a
man, and desires a woman, while the normal, healthy female dresses as a woman, and desires
a man. Such gender and sexual performance is required of a person in order for him/her to
be recognized as a respectable citizen within a State. At the turn of the last century, Western
doctors became preoccupied with those persons whose bodies, gender, and/or sexual
performance defied normative medical and legal description. The debate between biology
and environment that had informed criminology’s definition of “the” criminal extended to
the realm of sex and gender with respect to defining the normal or the degenerate body.
Feminist scholars have examined this debate in connection with the female body.
The role of doctors such as Charcot and Freud in the sexing of the female body, “female”
illnesses such as hysteria, and even the sexing of the bourgeois family via the Mother are
issues that frame such scholarly work. These studies have provided an analysis not only of
the narrative strategies in the field of medicine, but also of the narrative strategies of the
medical “objects,” namely the patients. While much historical work has been done on the
Conclusion: Body Crisis, Identity Crisis
233
figure of Magnus Hirschfeld, his circle of peers, and their writings, a similar analysis of the
narrative strategies of their patients is still lacking. This study is an attempt to help fill this
gap that remains in literary analysis of German sexological works from the first third of the
twentieth century. As the female psyche is the focus of Freudian analysis with regard to
women and hysteria, it is the body that is of interest for sexologists in the same period, and
the body is qualified and categorized according to sex, sexual orientation, and gender. The
work of Magnus Hirschfeld is emancipative in that it confirms the existence of persons who
are neither “male” nor “female”: the “either/or” binary gives way to a more inclusive
“and/or” spectrum of sex, gender, and sexual orientation.
While the Third Sex Theory marks a tremendous first step for the emancipation of
the body from a strict binary code, it too introduces limits for the self-realization of the
homosexual, the intersexual, and/or the transvestite. While the Third Sex Theory
acknowledges that persons who find themselves somewhere along this spectrum of sex,
sexual orientation and gender are “natural occurrences,” there is still the insistence that the
binaries of “male” and “female” are the desired norms. And whereas the object of study
might no longer be the object of scorn, s/he still remains the object of medical and legal
discourse. In their desire to escape the confines of normative discourse, homosexual men
and women slowly began to employ strategies in order to establish their own parameters of
identity. However, just as medical and legal discourse was the language of an elite few, the
discourse of a fledgling circle of male aesthetes interested in ancient Greek tradition and the
ideal of Freundesliebe was almost as exclusive. With the 1919 revolution and the Weimar
period, a schwul-identity that was accessible to the “common” homosexual began to develop.
Many questions regarding the modernist homosexual aesthetic remain to be
answered. There are many homosexual short stories, novels, journals, and other such first-
234
hand materials that have been carefully catalogued, but a analysis of the narrative strategies at
work in these media remains to be undertaken. The photographs discussed in this study are
but a small sampling of the amount of material available for analysis. In addition to the issue
of aesthetics, the medium of photography itself and the possibilities/problems that
accompanied its development must also be analyzed with respect to a homosexual aesthetic.
Walter Benjamin’s essay Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit is an
analysis of how technology had changed the nature of art and its role in society from the
turn of the century to the 1930s. While Benjamin was interested if works of art ever did
possess “aura” or whether “aura” was ascribed to them, further analyses should address the
following related questions: How did technology that produced mass media and homosexual
photography disseminate the modernist homosexual aesthetic, thereby creating “a”
(sub)cultural identity and memory? How did the interplay between medicine, politics, law,
ethics, and aesthetics affect the distribution of homosexual photography? Had there been a
“homosexual aura,” and did photography alter this conception?
This study only offers an analysis of the narrative strategies and aesthetic program of
homosexual men in Wilhelmine and Weimar Germany. As is well known, a strong lesbian
community existed in Weimar Berlin with its own nightlife, its own literature, its own
photography, art, and journals. I did not discuss these not because I presume that lesbian
narrative strategies are based on or are the same as those strategies of the homosexual male.
On the contrary, it was time restrictions and sheer mass of material that forced my
concentration solely on the male modernist homosexual aesthetic. Although it was authored
by a male doctor, it had initially been my intent to include an analysis of Döblin’s Die beiden
Freundinnen (1924) in the fourth chapter. However, I found that Radszuweit’s Männer zu
verkaufen was better suited than Die beiden Freundinnen (1924) for a “topographical” study. In a
235
future study, I would like to compare this portrayal of lesbians to self-portrayals by lesbians to
determine which textual and visual strategies lesbians used as a means of self-realization.
In this study, the focus is the position of the male homosexual within Wilhelmine
and Weimar society, whether it be the homosexual’s subject or object position in
photography or in texts, the homosexual’s standing in civilian or in military society, or the
topographical space within the City where the homosexual belongs. Although in theory the
Third Sex was equal to the “male” and “female,” in practice, heterosexual markers of sex,
gender, and orientation remained the desired norm of bourgeois respectability. These
markers were a buttress against the pressure of societal change that threatened the
patriarchy. Therefore, the “norm” of the Third Sex was portrayed by their protagonists in
accordance with bourgeois respectability. In order to legitimize homosexuality, Hirschfeld
differentiated between “good” or “true” respectable homosexuals and “bad” or “false”
homosexuals. In doing so, Hirschfeld unwittingly sought inclusion for “respectable” persons
at the expense of those outsiders who, again, based on their position (in society, in the City,
etc.) remained the sick or criminal societal Other.
The homosexual body is a site of questions involving homosexuality and alternative
male gender performance, and it is sometimes difficult to determine if the body defines or is
defined by medical, political, and/or
legal discourses. The Doctor’s diagnoses of
“abnormal” and “sick,” the Legislature’s 1900 reform of the Law Code and § 175, and the
Court’s enforcement of these laws determined the homosexual’s outsider status. With the
introduction of medical photography, there was at once “visual proof” that the polarities of
“male” and “female” gender are culturally determined, while one’s sex and sexual orientation
are biologically determined. While such progressive discourse liberates the body from
patriarchal standards, the body remains the object of study, and its attributes continue to be
236
not only described, but also prescribed. The object is still required to perform his/her gender
based upon the primary sexual characteristics of his/her body. If a person’s sexual
characteristics are predominately male, then the subject is to perform in society as a man.
Only then can “he” lead a “normal” life, as illustrated by Hirschfeld’s case study of
“Friederike S.,” discussed in the first chapter.
It was during this period of emergence and crisis that the homosexual’s position
began to shift from merely the object of medical, political, and legal discourses to that of a
self-affirming subject. Some male homosexuals rejected the restrictions assigned to them by
medicine, politics, and law, and developed their own identity via an aesthetic of the male body.
Not unlike the cultural iconography of the “virile” German Reich, the male body was
celebrated in male homosexual journals. These journals offered poetry, prose, and
photographs in praise of both male-male love and the healthy male body. Sujets from Greek
Classicism, Germanic myth, and German culture determined not only the setting of these
works, but also the form and/or pose in each. The utilization of such sujets incorporated the
homosexual body and identity within the larger (and accepted) cultural aesthetic, thus
legitimizing the male body within the context of male-male love. It is the body that is the
signifier of homosexuality; in this case, a “healthy” or “positive” homosexuality.
Homosexual aesthetes “freed” the homosexual body from the context of the examination
room in medical photography. Instead of seeking the “accidental spark” that the medical
photograph might reveal about the medical homosexual object, the male homosexual viewer
celebrates, indeed, identifies himself with the photographic subject. He is no longer the object
of medical study or criminal codes; he has become the subject and object of beauty and
desire.
237
As discussed in the first two chapters, the crisis at the turn of the century
surrounding long-established gender constructs and performances was part and parcel of the
economic and social change that was occurring in the Western world. However such shifts in
gender constructs retained their own “special dynamic” independent of economic and social
changes (Kühne “Männergeschichte” 11). The German soldier in the first part of the
twentieth century embodied one such “crisis of masculinity.” For instance, if the ideal soldier
is de-eroticized, how does one present the topic of “the soldier” and “homosexuality”
without compromising the contours of the male soldier, the boundaries that separate him
from other men, both hetero- and homosexual?
The de-eroticized male body—or more specifically, the body of the male soldier—
became the focus of the German Reich as it entered the First World War. A healthy male
soldier is a virile male; his virility and strength is the signifier of the virility and strength of
the Nation. In his pre-WWI account of “homosexuals” and “soldiers” in Berlins Drittes
Geschlecht, Hirschfeld utilizes patriarchal (read: “respectable”) gender roles in order not to
compromise the soldier’s masculinity, which is a signifier of the Nation’s “strength” and
“virility.” In addition to the strongly gendered spheres of the masculine soldier and the
effeminate homosexual, body language as gender performance is for Hirschfeld the defining
difference between the two. Relationships between “soldier” and “homosexual” are not
(necessarily) erotic in nature; they are relationships of convenience. The homosexual is not
the soldier’s object of desire, but rather the outlet for his desire, and the homosexual object
is portrayed as that kindly person who sacrifices his own desires for a stronger, more mutual
relationship for the well-being of the soldier. This “service,” as Hirschfeld argues, proves the
“usefulness” of the male homosexual for the well-being of the Nation.
238
Only with the crisis of the First World War was it possible for the emergence of the
“homosexual soldier.” Although a pacifist, Hirschfeld saw the War as an opportunity to
demonstrate the “usefulness” of homosexuals on both the home- and war fronts. In the
private letters that are reprinted in Hirschfeld’s Vierteljahrsberichte from 1915-16, the same
phenomenon occurs as with homosexual photography: the male homosexual reader
recognizes himself or his beloved in the letters; he is able to define his own identity vis-à-vis
these letters. The homosexual soldier—although again often “different from the others”—is
portrayed as a valued person in a military company, as a brave hero, as a comfort to others
on the front. Although all homosexuals are portrayed as useful in the war efforts, patriarchal
gender constructs in Hirschfeld’s notes differentiate between the masculine homosexual
soldier on the front and the effeminate homosexual soldier who, due solely to his effeminate
nature, has either served well as a nurse or has had hysteric episodes following battle.
Despite the “gendered interference” of Hirschfeld’s comments, these letters embody
the homosexual wartime experience on the field and at home. They are the textual corpus of
the homosexual subject; it is as if these letters have their own voice. It is no coincidence,
then, that letters play a significant role in Bruno Vogel’s “homosexual war novel,” Alf. It is
not only important that letters appear in the novel, but also at what point at which the novel
becomes an epistolary novel. In the sections of the novel prior to “Die Briefe,” the
protagonist Felix struggles to find his own voice, his own narrative: the aggressive
“masculine narratives” of Herr Braun the Father and of Herr Braun the Lawyer (§ 175)
determine Felix’s outsider role both in the family and in society. Just the same, Felix slowly
gains knowledge about himself (his sexuality, his “criminal nature”) from others, but remains
an object of the “net” of patriarchal discourses. In “Die Briefe,” all other narratives are
excluded except for the “homosexual narrative”: the letters are that “textual space” in which
239
Felix’s and Alf’s shared subject position allows for the self-actualization of both. Only the
reader—not even the narrative voice—has access to this “textual space.” This desired space
might mirror the contemporary male homosexual’s desired reality, and would further the
self-actualization of the homosexual reader. Much as homosexual photography disseminates
the visual homosexual aesthetic, so does homosexual literature disseminate a model of a
homosexual narrative that even overcomes the “voice of the Father” in the end.
It is this patriarchal “voice” that relegates homosexuals to the outskirts of respectable
society, both in terms of one’s social standing and in terms of where one frequents in the
City. Like the body of the male homosexual, the topography of the Großstadt Berlin in the
Weimar Republic is politicized, criminalized, sexed, and gendered—especially those parts of
town in which “respectable people” fantasize about but to which they dare not go. Yet just
as these parts of the City are shunned by respectable society, these same neighborhoods are
celebrated, explored, lived by those societal outsiders.
Klaus Mann’s Der fromme Tanz—“a novel for the new generation”—captures the
Verwirrung der Jugend in these “forbidden spaces” of post-WWI Berlin. In the Weimar
Republic, Berlin is that “homosexual topos” where one could perform his/her gender without
regard to his/her sex, and where one could perform his/her homosexuality with some
degree of freedom. It is from the authoritarian topos of the father to this “homosexual topos”
that protagonist Andreas Magnus flees at the outset of the novel. Although Berlin is
described as “sick” and “cold,” it is in Berlin where Andreas attempts self-actualization via a
Certeauian “pedestrian speech act”: Andreas finds his “voice,” his “homosexual narrative”
via the homosexual topoi of Berlin. Just the same, it is hard to determine if Andreas fully
achieves self-realization, or if self-realization is even possible for the new generation
(regardless of one’s sexuality, sex, or gender) in this post-WWI vacuum.
240
The standard division of Berlin topoi into of “respectable” and “degenerate” spaces is
challenged in Männer zu verkaufen, a Trivialroman by Friedrich Radszuweit. The “agenda” of
this novel is not too unlike that of Hirschfeld’s Berlins Drittes Geschlecht, which had appeared
twenty-seven years earlier. In order to separate “respectable” homosexuals from
“degenerate” homosexuals, persons and topoi are defined in a similar binary fashion: the
“true” homosexuals must be differentiated from the “false” homosexuals. However, the
“true” homosexual is portrayed as a passive, helpless victim of blackmail—not as a selfactualized individual. The respectability and honor of the “true” homosexual von Rotberg is
defined by the “false” homosexuality of his blackmailer, “Helmut Hintze.” Not only is
Hintze’s homosexuality false, but also his identity: he is in fact the disowned brother of Eric
Lammers, the private teacher of von Rotberg’s son. A tour of Berlin homosexual nightlife
not only helps discern between the “good” and “bad” homosexual, but also between the
“true” and “false” homosexual. By the end of the novel, all parties are reconciled, and all
have left Berlin behind.
Truly, only with the crisis of a monolithic masculinity in the first three decades of the
twentieth century in Germany was the emergence of the homosexual subject possible. The
Third Sex Theory of Magnus Hirschfeld may not have found resonance among all male
homosexuals, but in challenging the role of the modern male, Hirschfeld made it possible for
the individual male homosexual and the homosexual community an to achieve selfactualization. This homosexual subject not only expressed himself as an autonomous agent,
but defined himself via a modernist homosexual aesthetic in picture and in word.
241
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