It is naive to think that symbolism is unnecessary: we use it every day, subconsciously; when we speak, when we make a plan, when we relive our memories and when we dream. From the tiniest village to the vastest international corporation, people need symbols to help them to perceive the world as much as to perceive themselves. To take an obvious topical example of this, young people’s demonstrations to save the planet from disaster are highly symbolic.
Our readers will not be unaware of the European flag, in which most EU citizens recognise their own reflections. It is highly symptomatic that these flags are being waved in huge numbers, not so much over the Twenty-Seven as by populations who wish to join the EU (as we have seen in Ukraine) or to stay in it (the United Kingdom). The 12 golden stars against a blue background can also be seen on banners of all shapes and sizes, on people’s chests, baseball caps, worn as a cape and even painted onto faces with stage make-up. But would it be so wrong to see more of the same flags flying over the Continent in the run-up to its shared elections, given that the importance of their outcome is beyond question?
Admittedly, there are one or two structural issues with the Council of Europe, but it very quickly grasped how to walk the tightrope between politics and culture. It was the Council of Europe which in 1953 adopted the flag, followed in 1972 by the Anthem of Europe. The European Union ended up appropriating these for itself, to which it added a motto (‘United in Diversity’), which, it so happens, everybody understands.
The constitutional treaty devoted its article I-8 to the ‘Symbols of the European Union’: the above three, plus the euro and Europe Day on 9 May. To keep the British and their ‘poodles’ happy when the Lisbon treaty was being negotiated, the article was dropped (see EUROPE 8578/4); even the Luxembourg Prime Minister at the time, who is normally a more reasonable man, described the symbols as “somewhat ridiculous”. A declaration was appended to the treaty in which 16 member states confirmed their commitment to the symbols; under President Macron, France has since joined the group.
Let us take a closer look at the Anthem of Europe (Ode to Joy). All patriotic and revolutionary songs have music and words. There are words to the national anthems of all EU countries but Spain, which has an ancient military march (Marcha Real). It was used until the days of the second republic (1931-1937) before being restored by Franco, and is now firmly re-established.
The Anthem of Europe has no words, yet words to the Anthem of Europe exist. So, what happened to them?
The eminent German poet and philosopher Friedrich von Schiller was, in a nutshell, an egalitarian romantic. In 1785, he wrote a great poem, which caught the attention of Ludwig van Beethoven in 1792. It became Beethoven’s ambition to set the poem to music one day. He used the first 36 verses of a version rewritten by its author in 1803. Beethoven’s 9th Symphony was written in 1823-4, long after Schiller’s death (1805), which takes nothing away from this historic fact: the fourth, choral, movement has two writers, the poet and the musician. This is confirmed in the discography that came later, which contains the Schiller text. Nor did Ludwig ever downplay his debt to Friedrich. It is the alchemy of both inspirations that produced the beauty and evocative powers of Ode to Joy, making the 9th a universally admired cultural masterpiece.
In 1972, following the decision of the Council of Europe, members of the Commission of the European Communities decided that the poem was not ‘specifically European’. I think I may say that it is quite clear why: the two institutions basically joined forces to ensure that the European anthem would be purely instrumental. The reference interpretation is the von Karajan version. Exit Schiller stage left. The European Council of Milan (1985) adopted a wordless anthem for the future EU.
What, then, are these wildly inappropriate lyrics? The section of the poem that corresponds to the melody played as the European anthem is this: ‘Joy, beautiful Spark of the Gods / Daughter of Elysium! /We enter drunk with fire, / Heavenly One, your shrine! / Your magic binds together / What Custom strictly parted. / All Men become Brothers / Where your gentle Wing rests’.
In this stanza, Beethoven took the liberty of making a ‘minor’ correction to the original text. Schiller actually wrote: ‘Was der Mode Schwert geteilt /Bettler werden Fürstenbrüder’ (What Custom’s sword has divided / Beggars become Princes’ brothers). Beethoven took the idea and made it more universal: ‘Was die Mode streng geteilt / Alle Menschen werden Brüder’. In both cases, Joy overcomes class barriers or, in today’s parlance, bridges the gulf between the people and the elite. But the musician’s adjustment of the words, which show his humanist genius, would endow the work with a new, ineffable dimension.
That is what the choir achieves: men and women, symbolising all human voices brought together. Like a huge community singing about what matters. The best orchestra in the world cannot reproduce this effect on its own. I invite you to listen to the final movement of the 9th again. In response to the orchestra’s masterful cue, the soloist’s voice rings out, unveiling the theme. Then, at around the seven-minute mark, the full choir suddenly enters the scene, almost insurgently, taking up the sung theme – the ‘Anthem of Europe’ – but with maximum scale, fervour and sheer power. The choir itself explodes with joy at the key message of the Ode, ‘All Men become Brothers’, sharing this joy with the audience. You have to hear it to understand it.
In this way, the choir is fulfilling the mandate conferred by Beethoven, originated by Schiller. What is actually happening at that point? A triumph of the Enlightenment? At the apogee of the work, the singing brings about an unparalleled merger between a shared aesthetic paroxysm and a formal, explicitly egalitarian, humanist and internationalist ethical declaration. It is precisely this incomparable achievement, made sublime by words and voices, that continues to touch audiences. The message, internalised, made into the inner compass of the masses, can save lives: yes! In this way, the piece is ageless. This unapologetic romanticism announces the modern times in which we live, the world of which we dream: a brotherly form of globalisation with a human face.
There is no artifice in the fact that the moral and musical transcendence of the 9th spoke to the hearts and minds of the pioneers of European unification, as it has to millions of other people. If an anthem was needed, you can see why they picked this one.
There is one apparent paradox. The Ode to Joy is not about Europe or its states, let alone its institutions. Making this an argument to get rid of the words misses the point completely, to an almost criminal extent. It is precisely in the Ode interpreted in its entirety – words and music – that we can see the essence of European cultural identity. Joy. Joy that elevates, making the ‘immortal residence of heroes’ accessible to all. The joy of any artist, of any creator, in his or her work. Joy that overcomes personal and social divisions and creates a sense of fraternity that goes on spreading. Like a joyful subversion that cannot fail to succeed.
A purely orchestral interpretation of the European anthem produces nothing of the kind. It does not inspire its audience to sing as one; it does not allow the expression of humanity to be amplified by the physical body of each member of the choir and transmitted to each member of the audience. It is, in short, official rather than popular. It is to be listened to indoors, in a nice comfy armchair, which seems to vindicate Nietzsche: ‘A sedentary life is the real sin against the Holy Spirit. Only those thoughts that come by walking have any value’. (Monnet, it is said, agreed wholeheartedly).
Is it a coincidence? A community on its feet, singing, gets its message across. All anthems, revolutionary or national, are designed for liberation in vocal form. The Italian national anthem, ‘Il Canto degli Italiani’ (Song of the Italians), is an explicit reminder of this. ‘Frigid Europe’ (Élie Barnavi) does not sing. There is something wrong with this picture.
At this point, someone will usually (and fallaciously) invoke the linguistic argument (‘it’s the German that’s the problem, you see what I mean’ etc.). But translations of the text exist and can be adapted to the music; and if they don’t quite work, there are battalions of highly qualified translators in the European public services would find it a Joy to go to work on this, to give them a break from reports on the terrible drought.
The words to Ode to Joy contrast starkly with the poetic, bucolic or warlike lyrics, of dubious quality, of the various national anthems. They were never meant to create patriots ready to lay down their lives for their country or to venerate a monarch. They were not written in praise of the European Union. They implicitly remind us what this Union was created for and what still needs to be done to make the world a slightly better place.
Let us put an end to this shameful censorship, which astonishes many. Let’s give the Anthem of Europe its words back.
Renaud Denuit