Rainer hated the disorder of the Weimar Republic. He hated the corrupt and mediocre politicians, its unions in the hands of bolshevism, the Jewish financiers and that cloudy absence of identity, that obscene cosmopolitanism. One had to return to the soil and blood, he said. And whenever he talked of the contaminated cities, of overcrowding, of the plague, of inauthenticity, of the space where being was forgotten and men gave themselves over to luxury of lower entities, the modes of money and sex, one word, the word that signaled a city, left his mouth with the violence of a gob of spit: Berlin.[Next]
I did not know Berlin.
Rainer took me and he did not avoid saying that the trip would be to the depths of Hell. No one knew -- and this had been so for two years -- of Hannah. He knew, and he told me, that the Professor had "discarded her", casting her off to study with Jaspers. Circumstances that had caused, for my friend, an unexpected suffering: not seeing her again. Just once, chewing his words with anger, he confessed he'd have to look for her. That, he said, "that Jew" would not escape him. At the time it did not surprise me, the callous more than indifferent way with which Rainer said "that Jew". The absence or the fleeing or the abandonment of Hannah detonated in him a suffocated inner presence: his anti-Semitism. He hated, like all his comrades in the SA, the Jews. I did not share that hate.
Labels: The Shadow of Heidegger