The Rebellion of the Doomed: A Conversation with the Literary Translator Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana on the Remembrance Day of the Armenian Genocide (part two)

27 April, 2020

The first part of the interview.

Ilva Skulte: How is Werfel’s novel perceived in Armenia? In Austria, Germany, other countries?

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: This is an excellent question which relates to the recent discussion about the so-called “cultural appropriation” or, more precisely, how permissible it is.

You know, of course, that one of the most radical approaches demands that we write only about things we know inside and out. It would be ideal if we belonged to the culture in question and would have experienced everything we write about otherwise we can botch up everything. But Werfel, who wasn’t Armenian, describes events he didn’t participate in, events that had happened in faraway places he never visited. For such audacity Werfel was bitterly reproached by a fellow writer Armin Wegner, an eyewitness of Genocide, who like many modern writers was a staunch defender of the above-mentioned thesis – one may not write about things one hasn’t experienced because it is impossible to understand them in depth. Well, it is interesting to note that Armenians never found any fault with Werfel’s work. Partly because even the details in “Musa Dagh” seem so authentic that even professionals in the field of history, not to mention laymen, can hardly find any inaccuracies. In Armenia Werfel’s novel has achieved iconic status. It is not only testimony about Genocide but a very reliable, believable, and very powerful testimony. As for the German-speaking world, Werfel always has been and still remains a highly respected classic whose work still has its own devoted readership.

Ilva Skulte: Translation can be tricky if one has to deal with a text that describes a different culture at different times. What was your biggest challenge? I myself noticed the rather strange usage of the word ‘race’. I can imagine where it comes from but how do you think should the Latvian readers perceive ‘race’ or maybe ‘racism’ in the context of this particular novel?

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: Oh, these are problems and challenges I could speak about for hours! Translating literary works written, say, fifty or more years ago, one always has to solve one specific problem. Namely, how far can we go in modernizing the text? Of course, a certain degree of modernization is inevitable – every translation is an interpretation authored by a person who has a different cultural background and more often than not lives in another, different time. Nevertheless, there is also the line that we probably shouldn’t cross.

Recently, there was another discussion in the English-speaking world - about the newest translations of Russian classics. There are many admirers of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky whose alpha and omega were the excellent translations by Constance Garnett published from the end of the 19th to the first half of the 20th century. And they just couldn’t stomach the rather novel approach in the translations by Richard Pevear & Larissa Volokhonsky. As for my own humble endeavors, I tried to preserve the “fragrance of the epoch” which means I tried to keep intact terms and idioms characteristic for that epoch. One of such term is ‘race’. When Werfel was writing “Musa Dagh'' a substantial part of the world was half-crazed about everything related to ‘race’, ‘racial differences’, ‘racial improvement’ or eugenics, and so on. That is also the main reason why the Latvian readers of my translation will encounter such terms as ‘Armenian race’ or “warrior race’, dominant race’– even if they might sound slightly strange to the modern ear. ‘Race’ is, of course, only one example of words that in the course of time have acquired many semantic layers. There is e. g. such a nice little word as Führer. The English translator had a relatively easy time with it I think because the word ‘leader’ has the same neutral or even positive vibe as ‘Führer’ had before 1933. But the Latvian equivalent, i. e. ‘vadonis’ just like the German original has acquired quite a negative ring to it – now, what do we do with that? One can’t simply ignore the multiple semantic layers therefore a different word or words must be found to adequately express the nuances of Werfel’s original meaning. And that was only one of many more similar problems.

Ilva Skulte: One can’t help but notice parallels and associations with biblical themes. How did you tackle this particular problem in your translation? Was it important? The knowledge of the Bible might constitute an additional difference between the first readers of Werfel’s novel and his modern audience…

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: It was a very important problem. Because Werfel, of course, intentionally uses all those biblical associations, allusions and quotes as well as references to the Greek epos, Sufi tradition, and so on, so that the novel could acquire a monumental, mythical, timeless quality. Yes, the events described in it refer to a very concrete historical prototype but at the same time, Werfel’s narrative is multi-layered and has a deep symbolic meaning. Probably, even the first readers of “Musa Dagh” were not perfectly equipped to read and decipher such difficult text but you are right – in those times people were more knowledgeable in the Bible. Those Latvian readers who don’t feel quite at home with all things religious can consult the commentary section where I have tried to explain things which, to my mind, were especially important.

Ilva Skulte: Speaking about religion and the role which missionaries and other activists affiliated with this or that creed played in relief work for Armenians – how would you characterize it?

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: Werfel was fascinated by all religions, especially by Christianity. He was one of those who some time ago were referred to as seekers of God – in every religion, in every creed he saw something worthy, something existentially important.

In “Musa Dagh” there are episodes devoted to lengthy discussions about this or that religious teaching, its advantages and disadvantages, and its place in the modern world. And, yes, religious humanism was definitely one of Werfel’s ideals. In his novel, we meet two Protestant pastors, one priest of Armenian Apostolic church, two important representatives of Sufi tradition as well as the righteous from the people, e.g. a Turkmen who is a devout Muslim. Nevertheless, premature conclusions should be avoided. E. g. Gabriel Bagradyan, one of the main characters in “Musa Dagh”, whose life has unmistakable parallels with that of Moses, is not particularly interested in the mystical side of religion even if he is very dexterous in employing its ideological qualities. I would say that for Werfel the emphasis lies on ‘humanism’, not ‘religion’. There is an episode in “Musa Dagh” where the face of “absolute godlessness” is revealed – and this face doesn’t belong to a godless person in the customary sense of the word, it belongs to a mass murderer who knows no empathy, no compassion, and no mercy.

Ilva Skulte: Would you agree that the sheer monumentality of the novel betrays the author’s ambition to create a symbolic narrative, a myth, or maybe a dithyramb – something that could serve as a nationally uplifting force? The characters, on the other hand, are drawn very carefully, they are psychologically nuanced and therefore somehow discordant with the logic of the epic genre. How would you characterize the main goal of the author?

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: Well, everything here is very much ambivalent I am afraid. First of all, I think that any flag-waving is ironically frowned upon by Werfel and that only in the best case. Mostly, he fervently condemns jingoism which more often than not serves as some kind of tattered theatrical background of very real atrocities.Let us take as an example just one episode of “Musa Dagh.” The German pastor Lepsius comes to Constantinople hoping to appeal to the highest authorities on behalf of the deported Armenians. It goes without saying that his appeal is not heard favorably. He is told in no uncertain terms that inconvenient minorities amply deserve everything that might happen to them. And at the same time the city of Constantinople rapturously celebrates some national jubilee – it is a barbarically resplendent background to all the deportations, massacres and atrocities going on in the inland provinces.If we try to interpret “Musa Dagh” as some kind of heroic or epic narrative then we must admit that it is a rather unusual example of the genre. It is possible to look for parallels with Homer’s Iliad but then one can’t help but see that the author’s attention is focused on the besieged Troy and Troyans, not the heroic Achaeans. I would say that “Musa Dagh” is a story about involuntary heroes, a chronicle of the rebellion of the doomed. There is something else, too. It is true that Werfel’s novel has some very solemn and tragically beautiful episodes but as many more deal with monotonous everyday life which lacks any traces of heroism. The combination of timeless tragedy and everyday drudgery, to my mind, is very characteristic for, e.g. Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” but one can hardly find that particular feature in the classic epic poems.

Ilva Skulte: The characters of the novel suddenly find themselves on the crossroads of history. They hesitate, they wait and then they part ways taking separate paths. It seems a rather strange choice in our globalized world. How would you interpret it?

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: I would say that it is a very modern appeal: we should respect the choice of others. In one of the most important episodes of “Musa Dagh,” the majority of Armenian villagers decide to fight for their lives while some of them decide to obey the deportation orders issued by the authorities. Some young hotheads mock those who comply with the orders but the wise priest Ter-Haigasun indignantly forbids any mockery. I think this episode is very significant. It is wrong to think that at some decisive moment anybody, a person or a group, can have all the right answers and therefore the moral right to condemn others. Nobody can divine what the future holds. People are desperately searching for answers and often there is no guarantee that the right answer has been found. And that is exactly why mutual respect and acceptance of different choices are necessary prerequisites of civilized co-existence, especially in times of crisis. With one important caveat – one’s choice should not imperil the lives or well-being of others.

Ilva Skulte: Is there anything else you would like to emphasize – perhaps some important message for the “Musa Dagh” readers in Latvia (not Germany, Austria, Russia, etc.)?

Ilze Paegle-Mkrtčjana: I think that the readers in Latvia who have very recently started to reflect on the historic trauma of their own country, nation, or family shouldn’t forget that there are other countries and other peoples that have had very similar experiences. There are Armenians and Jews, of course, but also Russians, Ukrainians as well as people in China, Cambodia and Rwanda… Unfortunately, this list could go on and on because the 20th century didn’t hesitate in providing traumatic experience to nations, groups and individuals… And I firmly believe that we should read, think and speak about these tragedies regardless of how difficult and emotionally taxing it is. It could help us understand how similar we are and how similar can be our behavior in this or that situation.

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