Guilt/Anger
The second theme that we chose to explore in all of the poems is guilt. Survivor’s guilt, second-generation guilt, and the guilt of those who were separated from the Holocaust, either by living abroad in America or Israel is prevalent in much writing and testimony that we studied this term. The Glatstein poems that I chose exhibit guilt in a transformed version, that of anger. Glatstein’s guilt and anger is different from the guilt exhibited in Kovner’s poetry. Glatstein did not experience first hand the Holocaust, nor did he continue to live in Poland during the difficult pre-war times. However, he did visit his family in 1934 and felt (and saw signs of) what was yet to come. The guilt he brought back to America with him was merged with impotence and frustration at not being able to act to assist his family, or his people in any way. His anger at his own country, America for not assisting as much as he thought necessary is demonstrated clearly in his very famous poem “Good Night, World”. His anger at the western world is tremendous and shines through in this poem that was written in 1938. His ability to prophesize the return of the Jews to the ghetto for the Jewish people was considered miraculous – and frightening.
When Glatstein exhibited the anger at western civilization, which he did vehemently in “Good Night, World”, it was not only revolutionary in the sense of a way of dealing with his guilt and frustration; it was a major turning point in his poetic career. Before the 1930’s Glatstein and the rest of his In Zikh contingency of Yiddish poets had insisted that his nature as a Jewish poet lay only in the fact of his Jewish religion and his use of Yiddish for writing.[1] In the 1920’s and early 1930’s Glatstein’s poetry centered on universal subjects of sexuality, love, loneliness, and confusion about his transient place in the world, particularly as an immigrant. However, after returning from his trip to Poland he took a complete turn in his writing. He pronounced the good of the East European Jewish way of life and renounced the western corruption. He also began to write in exactly the manner he had once claimed to be against – he began to write messages of social and political persuasion. Mainly, Glatstein began to focus on the plight of Jews in Europe, and after the Holocaust, his poetry would focus on this subject even more.
In “Good Night, World” Glatstein proposes a return to Jewish life through the metaphor of the Jewish ghetto. He is not explicitly proclaiming a return to the geographical entity of the ghetto, but instead a return to a natural rather than mechanical world – a world of Jewish ideas and commandments. Glatstein’s insistence upon this return is among negative accusations he pours on the “flabby democracies” and “Jesusmarxists” which he has found himself among in the modern western country to which he is a part. His wish for the Jewish people is compounded by the inability to make the wish come true and he feels guilt about his sheltered life in America, which is a country that is in the process of betraying his people.
Glatstein clearly expresses his anger at the world, “great stinking world”, by slamming the gate and returning, of his own accord, to the Jewish ghetto. He emphasizes that it is his own choice to return to the ghetto, which is an eerie and ironic allusion when we imagine the forceful locking in of the Jews in the ghettos created during the Holocaust. However, as stated above, the ghetto Glatstein has created is a figurative, not literal ghetto. Glatstein wants to show clearly to his audience that he is rejecting the western, non-Jewish life, and he slams the gate in anger instead of simple closing it. The act of slamming is in order to gain attention. This need for attention towards his actions may be a direct result of the guilt he feels for ever leaving that ghetto and walking through the gate into the “great stinking world”.
Glatstein’s anger continues as he name-calls the Prussians and the Poles, clearly announcing that they are Jew-killers. He condescendingly refers to the “flabby democracies, with your cold/Sympathy compresses” and direct allusions to America and Britain come first to mind. The structural split onto two different lines between flabby democracies and the cold sympathy compresses allows for two slightly different interpretations. It is obvious Glatstein has no respect for these large, wealthy, democracies that do nothing to stop the ensuing tragedies and are only generous with their sympathy instead of their actions. In addition, however, the sympathy itself compresses and contracts. Glatstein is questioning the intentions of these democracies and their true hopes that the Jewish people survive. His anger also disrupts his trust in his own adopted country. This is similar to Kovner’s description of a folded sail in a storm, which could easily be used and perhaps would be helpful but instead the sail stays folded -- a conscious decision has been made not to use it.
Glatstein’s anger with the modern “electro-impudent world” is so intense that he is willing to return to the “hunchbacked” Jewish life of the Middle Ages. Glatstein recognizes the problems of the Jewish ghetto with its “warped streets” and intensity of study combined with poverty and exclusion. However, even with these recognitions he chooses a life of “deep-deep meaning, to duty, to what is right” (28) over the life he possesses now, the life of freedom. Glatstein proclaims “I disown/my liberation”. (30-31) Writing to a Jewish American audience this must have been quite a brave claim to make. Freedom and the ability to practice religion freely and in public was (and still is) a marked and respected American tradition, and the main reason for the pull to America by many immigrants such as the Jews. To denounce his liberation in the desire to return to an ancient Jewish “ghetto” emphasizes his complete revulsion with the world in which he is a part. The anger comes to a head in this line.
The created word “Jesusmarxists” was discussed extensively as a part of this poem.[2] Glatstein has combined the great competing western ideologies into one word, and rejects them brusquely in one fell swoop. He does not even waste two separate words on their rejection. “Take back your Jesusmarxists, choke on their arrogance./Croak on a drop of our baptized blood.” (32-33) The reference to “croaking on Jewish blood” refers to the blood of those Jews who converted and were thus baptized. These lines reveal the direction of Glatstein’s anger. Glatstein’s writing in Yiddish in 1938 meant that his audience was in all probability fully Jewish. For Glatstein to be writing in English at this time would have had the possibility of being very instigative. Though his poems could have been translated, publishing in English would have meant a potentially diverse audience. Directly after these two lines the anger subsides somewhat and Glatstein writes “And though He tarries, I have hope;/day in, day out, my expectation grows.” (34-35) This hope is that God will intervene, that though God is being slow at making his presence felt, there is yet still time for him to do so.
The positive reliance and trust in God that ends this poem written in 1938 is in direct contrast to the poem “Without Jews” written in 1946. “Without Jews” admonishes God for disappearing, and informs God that without the Jewish people, a Jewish God does not exist. This is very strong and changed language from the end of “Good Night, World”. Glatstein’s survivor’s guilt has been transformed into supreme anger, which is now directed at God, instead of human civilization. Glatstein explains directly to God that the Jewish people have existed by praising God and have attempted to exist in his likeness. Glatstein continues to exclaim that “shattered Jewish skulls/shards of the divine” (13-14) were God’s “light-bearing vessels,/Your tangibles/Your portents of miracle!” (16-18). Through the Jewish people, the Jewish God could be exulted. However, once Jewish heads all disappear, then there is no one to exult the God, what will become of Him? “Now count these heads/by the millions of these dead” (19-20) writes Glatstein, and almost directly addresses God to do the counting. He compares the stranger Jew in every land and town who throughout history has exulted and proclaimed the name of the Jewish God and yet after the Holocaust, Glatstein questions whether this is still a possibility. Glatstein compares the Holocaust to all the history of Jewish suffering and surmises that perhaps this is the worst yet.
At the end of the first stanza he writes, “Soon Your Reign will close./Where Jews sowed,/a scorched waste.” (24-25) This absolute statement of the end of the Jewish God is quite shocking. Glatstein, writing in Yiddish, which signifies his natural Jewishness, is telling his Jewish, Yiddish speaking audience that God has truly forsaken his people and will no longer be the blinding light of the Jewish faith. The poem, written in 1946, may have been a direct and emotional explosion after the worst of the information was revealed to Jewish Americans. However, even still, these lines are troubling and discomforting. Glatstein’s seemingly concrete statement falls into a category which we discussed in class regarding what limits, if any, exist for the artist who represents the Holocaust but was not him/herself a direct victim. Would those who died agree with Glatstein telling God that His reign will soon end?
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