Gehen, ging, gegangen: contemporary, modern, or stuck in the past?
A reflection of Jenny Erpenbeck’s 2015 novel.
The Merriam Webster dictionary defines contemporary to be “happening, existing, living, or coming into being during the same period of time.”
The summer of 2015 will be remembered across the world for the influx of thousands and thousands of refugees to Europe, mainly, though certainly not solely, from Syria. Jenny Erpenbeck’s novel Gehen, ging, gegangen [Go, Went, Gone], touches on the plight of the refugees and their dire situation with a political touch. Her novel is extremely timely, as it was published at the height of the European refugee crisis.
The novel tells the story of Richard, a retired Berlin classics professor, who becomes intrigued by the Oranienplatz refugee protest camp. He initially approaches the refugee crisis as a new research project, methodically searching for secondary literature, composing questionnaires, and conducting interviews with asylum seekers, but eventually, he begins to develop friendships with some of them. Throughout the novel, Richard, who fled from the approaching Red Army with his mother as a baby and then lived in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) until reunification, notices similarities between the traumatic experiences of the Oranienplatz protesters and the trauma in his personal history, German collective history, and ancient and medieval literature.
In a conversation about contemporary connections and asylum seekers, Europe Now shared an article where ideas about the parallels between Erpenbeck’s novel and asylum seekers circa 2015 were questioned. While Gehen, ging, gegangen covers different aspects and angles of refugee lives, its main relevance to contemporary debates about refugees can be seen in many passages throughout the novel.
“They are here because you were there.”
One interesting example was a scene where Richard begins his research of European colonial history. This initially helps him understand the current relationship between Europe and Africa grows out of ruthless colonial exploitation and slavery. The narrator tells the reader that Richard has a globe where Zambia is labeled “German East Africa.” This realization shows Richard that the borders in Africa are straight lines that indicate the division of European colonies. Colonies that still deal with economic exploitation.
Chunjie Zhang, associate professor of German at UC Davis, explains that “European countries should recognize their historical and present responsibilities for the African refugees who have lost their home.” Continuing to argue that “they are here because you were there.” Taking her view on this passage and situation, empathy alone toward the refuge is never going to be enough. The way we continue to see instances of people learning about colonialism still today, (i.e. the Queen dying and all of Britain's colonies wanting freedom), shows that the simple act of educating is not enough. Whether we are learning from the mistakes of WWI, WWII, etc. there is always going to be something unresolved from history that makes this idea contemporary for someone.
While it is clear that this novel is extremely relevant to 2015, perhaps more so than many readers realized. There is the question, who is this story for? The novel has largely been received as one meant to educate the German public about the (then) current “refugee crisis” in Europe. Many American sources believe this is a genius and insightful work, while German readers pose a more negative stance.
From an American reader's perspective, Erpenbeck’s sympathies with the refugees and against the legalistic and bureaucratic approach of the German and EU authorities are also clear. However, though the focus is on the refugees, Erpenbeck has tried not to write just a political plea for the refugees to be heard as individuals and not, as she puts it, just as legal cases.
From a German perspective, this novel was written for readers outside of German, if not Europe. Der Spiegel writes that “Richard remained stuck in colonial thought patterns to the very end, describing the refugees as “foreigners” or “black-skinned.” To paraphrase Kant, he does not deal with the refugees out of a moral obligation, but because he benefits from them. Because in the end he only looks for ‘answers to his questions’ in severely traumatized people — as the publisher puts it.”
Another German review throws Erpenbeck under the bus, because she “blames ‘politics,’ and — think about that! — ‘the law.’” Yet, this in itself is still extremely relatable. Passing blame on the government or politics is something people have done in the past and will continue to do.
“‘Politics’ and ‘the law’ did not somehow descend on the German people from the heavens above, Germans (all of them) do carry responsibility for their government and regulations. Especially an author [Erpenbeck] who writes about Hitler in the same book should be well aware of that. She should also be aware of the fact that a democracy is lost without the rule of law, and that the question must be which laws we want, but we hear nothing about that from Erpenbeck. Instead, she insinuates that ‘politicians’ and ‘the law’ are somehow out to get the refugees.” -Meike’s Reviews
Both see the novel differently but can connect the notion of its “contemporary-ism” across the board.
I understand the criticism of Erpenbeck’s novel from both perspectives, but I also was intrigued by Erpenbeck’s pedagogical intention of relating the refugees to colonial history, East German history, and contemporary German society. The contemporary connections through Richard’s personal history, German collective history, and classical literature, as well as politics, is one that was highly relatable to 2015. Yet, in many regards can still be contemporary today and we are seeing similar migration patterns and refugee movements take place. In this respect, Erpenbeck’s novel may be considered stuck in the past, while it relates to a non-German reader, but I stand by the idea that Gehen, ging, gegangen was and now is contemporary.
