About Schmidt
When I first came to Germany many years ago, nobody outside Bavaria trusted his father or grandfather. Certainly, there was no question of asking an old man for advice. The 1968 generation was of course, not specific to Germany ; in America , it was World War Two and Korea veterans who planned the military campaigns in Vietnam and effectively sent young, mainly working class and black Americans to their death. In Britain , the complacency of the older generation had wrecked our international competitiveness. So, no, we didn’t want to hear what old people had to say.
Now the pendulum has swung and there is an exaggerated respect, in Germany at least, for the supposed wisdom of 80 and 90 year olds. No other country, with the possible exception of Japan , celebrates Senioren-genius quite as thoroughly. Study Sandra Maischberger’s talk show partners: it is like a guest- list from the crypt. Hans-Jochen Vogel (84) and Heiner Geissler (80) addressing the political state of the nation; Norbert Blüm (75) on pensions, Arnulf Baring (78) on everything; Ingrid van Bergen (79) on Tierliebe; Otto Pfister (72) on the Weltmeisterschaft; Wolfgang Völz (79) as an expert on alcohol abuse. When I watch the talk show I half expect a nurse to walk on half way through, handing out pills and changing bed-pans. Lisa Fitz appeared the other day and it almost came as a relief (she claims to be 58): the much-needed voice of youth.
I want to be fair about this: the Opa -Quote finde ich gut. It is right that old people are on television and not just banished to radio or the columns of the Rheinische Merkur. But this reversal of the 1968 ethic has gone too far. Fine, the Schlag-den-Raab generation needs to be exposed to people with authority and experience. If they don’t read books, they can at least listen for a few minutes to a wise man. That was probably the idea behind Giovanni di Lorenzo’s “Auf eine Zigarette mit Helmut Schmidt”: instead of the dangers of passive smoking, a little bit of passive knowledge. The formula of the Lorenzo-Schmidt dialogue stays the same – some biographical revelation(Lorenzo: Ist tägliches Duschen dann in Ihren Augen Verschwendung?” Schmidt: „Mir genügt ein Bad in der Woche.“) coupled with 30 seconds weltpolitischem wisdom (Schmidt O-Ton: „Ein heute neugekauftes Auto kann man dann nicht essen”), and already the Marlboro-Methol is ausgeraucht. A joint with Helmut Schmidt would probably yield more.
Now I am a great admirer of di Lorenzo and not just because he is the Verleger of this newspaper, but I fail to understand the fascination with Schmidt. As a young man I was in the London audience when he tried to explain the new dangers of Soviet missiles to the Strategic Studies Institute and as a Financial Times correspondent in Bonn I was invited to his concerts in the Kanzlerbungalow; I admired his fierce intelligence, his impatience with bureaucrats, his crisis management. But he lacked charm, over-rated his intelligence and made many clumsy misjudgements. He was not a great Chancellor but now he is being styled as one. More, the cult of Helmut is endowing him with almost supernatural qualities: Helmut der Retter im Not. Partly, I suppose it is the cigarette smoking (Lorenzo: Haben Sie nie versucht, das Rauchen ganz einzustellen? Schmidt: Nee. Ich bin doch nicht verrückt.). Anyone who so thoroughly defies political correctness that he chain-smokes on television, must be fearless and a truth-teller. Flawed logic, of course. And partly there is the sense, cultivated by both di Lorenzo and Maischberger, that one should squeeze as much out of the old generation as possible because soon they will die and their knowledge will disappear. In this sense, Helmut Schmidt’s smoking is part of a complicated metaphor: each cigarette is treated as possibly the last to be smoked before the firing squad arrives.
None of this should be sufficient however to raise this ex-chancellor to the Sainthood. When he had power, he was interesting ; shortly after leaving power, he had useful things to say. Now, he is just a grumpy old man, with a selective memory. There are moments, as in the old days, when he exhibits a dry wit but nothing really that goes beyond the funereal WM contributions of Günter Netzer. The views and the knowledge of pensioners are important but they do not have to be packaged in this way. Frankly I would rather that young people just visit their grandmother more often and ask them questions. That surely must yield better conversations than the following:
Lorenzo: Haben Sie genug Liebe in Ihrem Leben?
Schmidt: Ich beklage mich nicht.
Lorenzo: Hätten Sie mehr lieben können?
Schmidt: Das ist mir tatsächlich zu persönlich.
Lorenzo: Sie haben aber sicher das ganz große Glück erfahren,
ein erfülltes Leben gelebt zu haben.
Schmidt: Mag so sein.
Watching these veterans trying to edge back into the 21st century media world is increasingly like stumbling onto the stage of a Samuel Beckett or a Harold Pinter play; the pauses and omissions are often more significant than the words. Leave Helmut Schmidt (and Marcel Reich-Ranicki and all the others) in peace; let them find calm solace beyond the television cameras and the bestseller lists. Old people, the Greek philosophers taught us, can enrich our understanding of the present day if they have discovered and can communicate universal values. What are these values? How to deal with the loss of loved ones. How to keep your nerve in a crisis. How to retain dignity when your body is betraying you .These, not Schmidt’s self-censored version of the NATO-Doppelbeschluss, are the kind of lessons we can learn from the older generation. We just need to ask the right questions, and switch the tape recorder off.
