“Reflexionen zum Rundfunk,” GS, 2.3, 1506–7. Translated by Jonathan Lutes.
Written in 1930 or 1931, no later than November 1931. Unpublished during Benjamin’s lifetime.
CHAPTER 41. Theater and Radio
On the Mutual Supervision of Their Educational Roles
“Theater and Radio”: an unbiased consideration of these two institutions does not necessarily evoke a sense of harmony. The competitive relationship here is not quite as fierce as between radio and the concert hall. Yet one knows too much of the ever-expanding activities of radio and the ever-deepening crisis in the theater to even begin to imagine a collaboration between the two. Such a collaboration nevertheless exists, and has existed for quite some time. To the extent that it has occurred, it has only been of a pedagogic nature. Southwest German Radio recently initiated such a collaboration, and with considerable enthusiasm. The station’s artistic director, Ernst Schoen, was one of the first to turn his attention to the works recently put forward for discussion by Bert Brecht and his literary and musical colleagues. It is no accident that while these works—Der Lindberghflug, Das Badener Lehrstück, Der Jasager, Der Neinsager, etc. — are unequivocally pedagogical, they also constitute a bridge between theater and radio in a wholly original way.1 The basis for these programs soon proved viable. Similarly structured serial programs, such as Elisabeth Hauptmann’s “Ford,” were soon broadcast on school radio, while issues confronted in daily life — the upbringing and education of children, techniques for professional success, marriage difficulties — were casuistically addressed through examples and counterexamples.2 The Frankfurt radio station (together with that in Berlin) provided the impetus for such “listening models,” written by Walter Benjamin and Wolf Zucker.3 The breadth of these activities allows for a closer look at the principles of this work, while simultaneously preventing it from being misunderstood.
Such a scrutiny must not cause us to overlook the obvious issue at hand: technology. It would behoove us to leave all sensitivities aside and to state the matter outright: the radio, in relation to the theater, represents not only the newer, but also the more exposed technology. It cannot yet harken back to a classical epoch, as can the theater; the masses that embrace it are much larger; and finally and above all, the material elements on which its equipment is based, and the intellectual elements on which its programs are based, are closely intertwined to the benefit of the listeners. For its part, what does the theater have to offer? The use of a living medium, nothing more. Perhaps the crisis facing the theater stems from no question more important than this: What does the use of a living person contribute to the theater? In response, two starkly contrasting notions arise — one reactionary and one progressive.
The first sees itself in no way obliged to take notice of the crisis. From its perspective, the harmony of the whole is and remains unclouded, with man as its representative. It regards him as being at the peak of his powers, as the lord of creation, as a personage (even in the case of a mere wage-earner). His realm is the culture of today, over which he reigns in the name of “humanity.” This proud, self-assured theater, which takes as little heed of its own crisis as it does that of the world; this haut-bourgeois theater (whose most celebrated magnate, however, has recently stepped down) — whether now proceeding with plebeian dramas in the new style, or with Offenbachian libretti, it always perceives itself as a “symbol,” a “totality,” a “total work of art.”
We are characterizing the theater of education and of distraction — so contradictory in appearance, yet merely complementary phenomena within the saturated stratum for which all things become stimuli. But in vain does this theater seek to compete with the attraction of million-mark films, replete with complicated machinery and massive crowds of extras; in vain does its repertoire encompass all epochs and all corners of the world, while broadcasting and cinema, with a much smaller apparatus, have room in their studios for ancient Chinese drama along with new forays into Surrealism. Competing with the technology available to radio and cinema is pointless.
But the ensuing controversy is hardly pointless. Above all, this is what is expected from progressive theater. Brecht, the first to theorize it, calls this theater “epic.” Epic Theater is thoroughly sober, especially regarding technology. This is not the place to expound on the theory of Epic Theater, much less to demonstrate how the development and structure of Gestus amount to nothing but a retro-transformation of the methods of montage so critical to broadcasting and film — from a technological undertaking to a human one. Suffice it to say that the principle of Epic Theater, like that of montage, is based on interruption. Only here, interruption acts not as a stimulus, but as a pedagogical tool. It brings the action to a temporary halt, forcing the audience to take a critical position toward the proceedings and the actor to take a critical position toward his role.
Epic Theater pits drama’s laboratory against drama’s total work of art. It draws in a new way upon theater’s reliable old prospect — the exposure of those present. Its experiments revolve around man in the present crisis, man eliminated by radio and cinema, man, to put it somewhat drastically, as the fifth wheel of technology. This diminished, neutralized humanity is subjected to certain ordeals and evaluative tests. Consequently, events are alterable not at their climaxes, not through virtue and resolve, but only in their strictly habitual processes, through reason and practice. To construct from the smallest elements of behavior what Aristotelian dramatic theory refers to as “action”: that is the meaning of Epic Theater.
Epic Theater confronts conventional theater by replacing culture with training, and distraction with groupings. Concerning the latter, anyone who follows the changes in radio will be familiar with the recent efforts to more narrowly define listener blocs in terms of social class, interests, and milieu. Similarly, Epic Theater is attempting to cultivate a group of interested parties, who, independent of criticism and advertising, are keen to see their own concerns, including political ones, realized in a series of actions (in the above sense) by a consummately trained ensemble. Notably, this development has led to older dramas undergoing major transformations (Eduard II; Dreigroschenoper) while newer ones have been subjected to a kind of controversial treatment (Jasager, Neinsager);4 this may shed light on what is meant by replacing culture (of knowledge) with training (of judgment). Radio is particularly bound to take advantage of established cultural goods, which it does best through adaptations that not only correspond with technology, but also comply with the demands of an audience that is a contemporary of its technology. Only thus will the apparatus remain free from the halo of a “gigantic educational enterprise” (as Schoen puts it),5 scaled back to a format fit for humans.