On Goethe

How the German author has influenced the modern world and why he deserves more recognition.

In der Kunst ist das Beste gut genug.

An interesting question to pose to any foreign-born person that one encounters is to ask which historical figure they would prefer their civilization to be remembered by. Some nationalities have heroes that already hold that honor: Churchill and De Gaulle are widely respected for their roles in the Second World War. Gandhi's peaceful resistance to an occupying force has become a model for revolution worldwide. The German people, on the other hand, have not been quite as lucky with who they may want and who represents them on the international stage. I would expect most of them to hold Johann Wolfgang von Goethe up as the jewel of their nation, save for an aberrational gap in the mid-20th century. And yet, as much as the German government has attempted to elevate him,¹ little progress has been made to escape the stain that Hitler has left on their history. In order to help them with this task, I have decided to use my time this week to cover some of his renowned works.

One of the longer debates in the history of moral philosophy is whether it is wise to live a life of virtue at the expense of one’s pocketbook. None deny that vice is a more monetarily profitable venture, but does the extra luxury that comes from that wealth outweigh the theoretical benefits of goodness? Truth be told, Socrates’ arguments as cataloged in Book 2 of Plato’s Republic² never truly sold me on the idea that living a “just” life is profitable because of some potential reward in the afterlife. The subtexts in both Faust and The Sorrows of Young Werther show a stronger negative example of two prosperous people, through wealth for the former and through intelligence for the latter, who prevent themselves from finding happiness as a consequence of their own vicious nature.