Anthems (10) -- Those Problematic German Anthems

Yes, I have vague memories of having been surprised, in a good way, by various national anthems I had previously known nothing about (India, Indonesia).  I remember feeling some anthems were distinctly “odd”, at least in the presentations I found on YouTube (Saudi Arabia, whose anthem I could never find the lyrics to; Iran, played against images of what I imagine to be Revolutionary Guards, armaments, and explosions).  And sometimes I was surprised by my non-reaction; I’d expected to somehow be impressed or stunned, and wasn’t, particularly (China, North Korea).

But several countries turned out to be much more interesting than I had anticipated.

Let’s start with Germany.

The lyrics of the German anthem, known to most of us as “Deutschland Über Alles,” was actually written, in 1841, as “Song of the Germans.”  At a time when German had disintegrated into hundreds of kingdoms, principalities, and duchies, it urged Germans to put “Germany Above Everything”—Germany first—rather than squabble on behalf of your own particular little (or large) fragment of Germany.

The music, on the other hand, comes from the famous Austrian composer Franz Joseph Haydn.

Austrian?  Yes.  Since the Austrians are ethnically and linguistically German; one of those kingdoms that Germany (or rather the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation) had dissolved into—though a rather luckier one; since, in driving the Turks back from the gates of Vienna, it had amassed its own empire of largely non-German peoples.  When Bismarck reconstituted Germany in 1871, he specifically excluded Austria.

Haydn’s tune became the anthem of the Austrian (later Austro-Hungarian) empire.  Meanwhile, the new German empire (like other nations we have discussed) did not really have an official anthem.  Unofficially, Germans might sing “The Watch on the Rhine”—famously presented in the film “Casablanca” before being drowned out by Frenchmen (and French women) singing “The Marseillaise”—or they might sing “Heil Dir im Siegerkranz” (to what seems the perpetually popular and apparently omnipresent—as we shall see!—English tune “God Save The King”).

After World War I—and the collapse of the German Empire as well as the Austro-Hungarian Empire—“The Song of the Germans,” sung now to Haydn’s melody (no longer used as the Austrian anthem—some Austrians were rather glad to be rid of it) became the anthem of the new German state.  With the rise of the Nazis fifteen years after The Great War, “Germany Above Everything” became known to the world as “Germany Over Everybody Else”—though in the Reich the custom was to sing only the first verse, then follow that up with the “Horst Wessel Song”—the anthem of the Nazi Party.

After World War II, what was a German to do?  The first stanza was clearly verboten; not only did it talk about “Germany Above All,” it mentioned various territory that supposedly constituted “Germany”—including non-German ethnic areas that had been lost.  The second stanza—invoking German “wine, women, and song” seemed comparatively trivial and a little bit sexist.

The Haydn tune was kept, along with the third stanza.  Known as the “Germany-Song,” it proclaims the ideals of “unity, justice, and freedom” for Germany:  The foundations of happiness.

There are lessons here:  Not to think of your country in terms of specific geographical boundaries (which can change); and to be mindful of how your national anthem might come across to others (Arrogant?  Sexist?).  There’s still the question, though, of using songs from other countries as your own (though, since borders change, and a song may come from a mixed background, let’s not be over-possessive).  In any case, we’ll see that several nations have shared one particular tune…

"Where Has He Been?"

With writers there is a question, always of “Writers’ Block.”  Everyone knows about that.  But there’s another, related, question:  What does the writer write about?  In order to write, a writer has to first experience—unless s/he’s going to simply write about the inability to write.

I admit it:  I’ve just been busy these last few months.  For some reason, starting in April, everything seemed to be happening for me all at once:  My day job, the writing club, my family—one thing after another.

What I can’t quite figure out, looking back, is how I ever managed things ten years ago.  At that point, I was facilitating four different groups:  South Bay Writers, Amnesty International Group 35, the South Bay Poly discussion group, and South Bay Circles (the local pagan ritual group).  How on earth did I ever manage to come up with agendas, recruit people to help out, and simply stay sane with all that activity?  I can remember earlier times when I also served on Unitarian church committees in Virginia or here in California; when I helped out with CUUPS (the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans), when I was a regional coordinator for Amnesty.  How did I ever sort everything out?  And I continue to be a legal minister/priest for the Covenant of the Goddess (although I’m not responsible for facilitating any meetings).

At this point I’m down to running the poly group—which involves just one meeting a month—and South Bay Writers.  But in two days—on July 1^st—my term as president of South Bay Writers ends.  And presumably I will have more time to…write?

But my point is, a writer shouldn’t really just sit around writing.  A writer should be doing something worth writing about.   A writer ought to be involved.  True, a writer can sit by her/himself all the time and write about the world around him/her—but is that interesting enough to be worthwhile?

I’m glad I’ve been involved in social groups.  I’m also glad to be reaching the point where I don’t feel obligated to run them all myself.  I’m looking forward to thinking a little more about…my writing.

Anthems (9) -- Afterword on that Greek National Anthem

After a few rounds of humming the Greek National Anthem (which, as I mentioned, I first heard around age ten), I realized, of a sudden, that it is written in 3/4 time.  This caught me off guard, as I tend to think of anthems as being marches (4/4 time).  One conceivably could dance a waltz to this anthem!  Yet it’s never struck me as being a waltz; I never thought of it as a waltz—and it took me roughly fifty years to realize it was in 3/4.  

 

Frankly, I don’t think it is a waltz; it’s just a tune written in 3/4 time.  A waltz is not just a melody written in threes; it has to have the feel of the dance called The Waltz.  It has to glide in the proper way.

I thought about this some part of a day, then a suspicion hit me:  The Greek National Anthem is a dance, but not a waltz.  Rather, played at the appropriate tempo (perhaps just slightly faster than its usual pace), it would make a very fine hambo.  It has the distinct rhythmic feel of a hambo.

This was another jolt; though not without its humor:  The hambo is a dance from Scandinavia (glancing now at Wikipedia, I see that the hambo itself may be related to the Polish mazurka.  I’ll have to meditate on that for a while!).

So the music of the Greek National anthem is not quite so straightforward as I’d always imagined.  It’s a beautiful tune; I always knew that; but also probably danceable; and surprisingly international as well—rather appropriate for a country we often call the Cradle of Western Civilization!

Anthems (8) -- Three from the Balkans

Someone online mentioned that the Romanian national anthem was “the best” – so I decided to give it a listen.  I was surprised by what I found.  It sticks in my mind much more than many of the other anthems I’ve listened to.  I suppose that is a “plus” – at the very least, the Romanian national anthem is “memorable.”

 

Except that…I can’t persuade myself to actually like it.  I find it a little creepy.  I apologize (to my Romanian colleagues) for that, since I understand that it is a venerable old anthem, predating the Communist era.

Of course, it could just be the recording I found on YouTube:  Very macho-sounding men singing about Romans rising again to greatness, bringing back the glory of Trajan.  Somehow, I think of that film, 300, and people yelling “This is Sparta!”

Whereas…  I expected to like the Hungarian national anthem.  I’ve known the title for nearly forty years, since the time when I was engaged to an ethnic Hungarian-American.  I’d never actually heard the anthem, so I thought “Now, at last!”

I’m not sure what I expected it to sound like.  Maybe I thought it would sound something like the Hungarian dances I’ve danced for these several decades.  But it sounds like a hymn—which is okay, except that it is a slow, classical-music hymn; on the whole (perhaps) not very interesting—however much meaning and emotion it may call forth for Hungarians.  This hymn also predates the Communist era; in fact predates the revolutions of 1848.  But it’s slow and tranquil, not (to my mind) stirring, full of national pathos, guilt, and penance.

The Greek national anthem, I now realize, I have known almost as long as my own American national anthem.  That’s because, when I was nine or ten, my mother joined a book club where my family was sent, monthly, a book, recording and slides about a different country.  This was about the time I learned “The Star-Spangled Banner.”  However, from the book/recording/slides devoted to Greece, I also learned the Greek national anthem—just the music, not the words.  I didn’t know what it was; I didn’t know it was the national anthem.  I actually only confirmed that last week.  But there it is—as familiar to me as—well, myself.  I’ve been humming this song since I was nine.  It seems perfectly natural to me.  So I’m biased; I can’t be neutral about the song.  Which says something about it, I suppose.  It’s an ode to Freedom—but it’s the music I love.

Anthems (7) – Latin Interlude

My original interest in anthems came about because of my love of the Russian anthems, my history with the German/Austrian anthems, and my discovery of the wide-spread distribution of God Save the Queen (more of which later).  I’ve discussed the Russian anthems and I’m holding the other business for the end.  Pending the end, I wanted to get an idea of what else was out there, lurking in places I usually don’t inhabit.  Thus this temporary interlude.

I’ve always felt that white United States folks have been raised to neglect Latin America, so I went off to explore those national anthems.  I came back only with preliminary impressions.

I quickly explored Mexico, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile—and Puerto Rico.  What I remember is mostly Brazil.  I have a friend there, and I’d listened to the anthem before.  The others I’ve heard only once even now—and Venezuela disconnected half-way through.  I remember the Mexican anthem seemed rather bellicose—but that’s from my U.S. perspective (more of that later).  But Brazil I was actually on the verge of learning.

The Brazilian anthem struck me the first time (and later on) as a Verdi opera.   Sources tell me that the style is actually more that of a Rossini opera.  Someone online commented that “it’s so much fun to sing!”  And it probably is.  I just haven’t attempted to learn the words yet—I don’t know the vocabulary, and I’d have to learn how to run all the vowels together.  It’s a future project.

For reference, I also listened to the anthems from Spain and Portugal—and Italy (someone had said it was the prettiest); I’m left with a general sense that they sound “Latin”; they generally don’t sound like Verdi operas, and yet…somehow they remind me of Italian opera—and is that really so surprising?

I guess I’m only half surprised.  It’s Brazil I remember, which does sound like 1830s Italian opera—and in fact the anthem was written around that time, so why shouldn’t it?

I explored other world regions too—more of that shortly.  I intend to return to many of the places I’ve only glanced at; you really do find surprises out there.  I found myself rather touched by what I found in Puerto Rico—though perhaps that was because the singer reminded me of a girlfriend.  (And which “anthem,” actually, was she singing?  Puerto Rico is a commonwealth within the United States.  I think after her I stumbled onto a Puerto Rican revolutionary song!)

Yes, I’ve found many surprises.  Stay tuned.