Rudolf Fuchs: An Underestimated Cultural Intermediary and Social Critic in Times of Conflict

Abstract

Rudolf Fuchs (1890–1942) was an influential figure in Prague’s early 20th-century literary scene as well as an intermediary between German and Czech literature at a time of intense social and political transformation. This study places Fuchs’ work within the broader context of his period, underscoring his significant, yet often overlooked, contributions to cultural mediation. The methods employed in this study include a detailed examination of Fuchs’ literary output and translations, alongside an analysis of his correspondence with contemporaries, to trace the evolution of his thinking from an initial alignment with Expressionism to a strong commitment to socialism. The results highlight Fuchs’ role in enhancing intercultural understanding, revealing how his translations and personal ideologies shaped the literary landscape of German–Czech relations. The study asserts the enduring relevance of Fuchs’ endeavors, particularly in the modern European sociopolitical climate. It also yields insights into the management of cultural diversity and ideological conflicts, as well as the upholding of social values amidst political volatility.

1. Introduction

There is no question that Berlin, Prague, and Viennese Expressionism differed in their themes and styles. What particularly distinguished Prague Expressionism from that of Berlin and Vienna, however, was the fact that its authors stood between cultures grounded in multilingual society (Spector 2000). This was common to all the Prague writers, regardless of the different themes they addressed in their texts. Here, Max Brod increasingly emerged as the key figure: as a gifted networker, he held all the strands together. He facilitated contacts, exchanged texts, and invited authors to collaborate. Brod’s role as a mediator was intentional, and motivated by the potential he saw in the author’s concerned. Thus, in his well-known memoir “Der Prager Kreis” (The Prague Circle),1 Brod describes both a narrower and a broader circle, wherein he categorizes people according to his own judgment. This led to obdurate misunderstandings about the true complexity and size of the Prague Circle. In “Der Prager Kreis”, Brod only mentions Rudolf Fuchs (1890–1942) at length at one point. In this part, he describes the role of the early Fuchs in Expressionism, that of the mature Fuchs in socially critical literature, and that of the late Fuchs in London exile, but even here, he restricts his comments to a few lines (Brod 1966, p. 200).

Even though Brod appears to mention Fuchs merely in passing, he does something vital: he describes Rudolf Fuchs’ journey from Expressionism to his role as a translator of Bezruč,2 and to his later incarnation as a socialist author. Brod’s description reveals a rather remarkable evolution undergone by this writer and translator from Podiebrad3 during times of extreme social and political upheaval. This article aims to clarify which, if any, values in his work have withstood all these upheavals, including political and social unrest. It also asks whether there is a consistent leitmotif throughout Fuchs’ literary output, and if so, how it can be described. Historians and political scientists often draw parallels between the 1920s and the 2020s. Therefore, in a concluding summary, it is also pertinent to discuss what Fuchs might have to say to us today about the stability or instability of values in turbulent times.

2. Clarification of Biographical Data

First, it is important to clarify some biographical data, as previous confusions have contributed to the neglect of Rudolf Fuchs by researchers—especially to the west of the former Iron Curtain—and have fostered several myths4 surrounding his biography. The reason for this neglect may also be that the majority of his estate, consisting of six boxes, had been stored in two Prague archives and was only systematically reviewed, evaluated, and organized in the years before the pandemic by the contributor in preparation for this research. Furthermore, references to his authorship in contemporary prints and periodicals are so scattered that Fuchs appears only sporadically as an author and translator in his era. Only the systematic collection of bibliographic data reveals Fuchs’ enormous literary productivity, along with his role as a mediator through translation.

3. 1890–1900: Early Childhood in Podiebrad

Today, two statements by Fuchs can be traced to two points in his life. The first time Fuchs spoke about his origins was in 1925 in the Jewish monthly “Menorah”. It was here, alongside his poems “Der Chaluz”, “Brautwerbung”, “Enzian”, and “König Ahasver”, that a so-called biographical sketch appeared, which occupied more than one page (Fuchs 1925, pp. 153–54). The second time was during Fuchs’ London exile when the Czechoslovak Cultural Commission requested that he write an autobiography on the occasion of his 50th birthday in 1940 (Fuchs 1943, p. 5). The original of this autobiography is stored in the Prague National Archives5 and, a year after Fuchs’ death in a traffic accident, it was published by his friends and companions, Karel Kreibich,6 Guido Lagus,7 and Paul Reimann8 in the posthumous volume “Ein wissender Soldat” (Fuchs 1943, pp. 5–10). From this information, along with additional findings, Rudolf Fuchs’ biography can now be reconstructed in quite some detail. Fuchs writes thus about his early childhood memories:

Wenn ich mich tief, tief in meine Erinnerung zurückversenke, sehe ich mich in der kleinen Stadt an der Elbe, ein Kind, von meinen Eltern wie ein Augapfel behütet. Aber was immer ich sage, und wenn ich es auch ihnen zuliebe erzählen würde, es wäre, selbst wenn sie noch lebten, nicht ihre Wahrheit.

In der kleinen Stadt galt mein Vater als wohlhabend. Er war, als ich zur Welt kam, bereits bejahrt. Mich nannte er seinen Benjamin. Sein Wesen ward mir erst später klar, lange nach seinem Tode. Ich fühle, wie ich immer mehr sein Sohn werde. Damals hing ich weit mehr an meiner Mutter. Sie hatte außer mir kein Kind.

Meine Eltern sprachen miteinander deutsch, meine Mutter hat tschechisch nie ganz erlernt. Mir waren die Laute der deutschen Sprache vertraut, deutsch sprechen und schreiben konnte ich nicht. Trotzdem beschloss der Familienrat, daß ich eine deutsche Mittelschule [in Prag] besuchen sollte.

(When I delve deep, deep into my memory, I see myself in the small town on the Elbe, a child, guarded by my parents like the apple of their eye. But whatever I say, even if I said it for their sake and they were still alive, it would not be their truth).

In the small town, my father was considered wealthy. He was already of an advanced age when I was born. He called me his “Benjamin”.9 His nature only became clear to me much later, long after his death. I feel that I am increasingly becoming his son. At that time, I was much more attached to my mother. She had no other child besides me.

My parents spoke German with each other; my mother never fully learned Czech. The sounds of the German language were familiar to me, but I could not speak or write German. Nevertheless, the family council decided that I should attend a German secondary school [in Prague].

(Fuchs 1925, p. 153)10

Rudolf Fuchs was born on 5 March 1890, in Podiebrad (Czech: Poděbrady), which is located about 50 km (approximately 31.07 miles) from Prague on the upper reaches of the Elbe River. Before going any further, it is necessary to clarify the family circumstances. With the help of descendants and friends of his adoptive son, Heinrich Fuchs, and their genealogical research, it was possible to create a preliminary family tree of the closer relatives. According to this tree, Fuchs’ father (David Fuchs, 1826–1907) must have indeed been at an advanced age when he was born. Rudolf Fuchs was an only child in the strictest sense, as he mentions in his memoirs, but he evidently had five half-siblings from his father’s first family. How close the contact with his half-siblings was cannot be determined. Nevertheless, the fact remains that Fuchs was the only child of his mother, Regina Fuchs (née Katz, 1852–1917). On 17 February 1923, according to the marriage registry, Rudolf Fuchs married Loni Lapper-Strich (née Strich, 1895–1942) and adopted her son, Heinrich,11 whom she had brought into the marriage from her first marriage to Ernst Lapper.

4. 1902: Attendance at the Nikolanderschule, Lodging with the Thieberger Family

Rudolf Fuchs moved from Podiebrad to Prague between the ages of 10 and 1212 in order to attend the German secondary school mentioned in his autobiography, despite an initially poor knowledge of German. Fuchs grew up initially speaking only Czech in Podiebrad. This was not unusual, as Czech was often spoken outside of Prague. In general, Bohemia and Moravia were linguistically heterogeneous at that time. The language that was learned as a child and later preferred as an adult depended on social and family background. According to Fuchs himself, he only learned German after moving to Prague. However, according to Johannes Urzidil, Fuchs belonged to the exceptional contemporaries who could express themselves in both Czech and German with native-like proficiency.

Dichterisch war er [Rudolf Fuchs] für Kafka sicherlich interessanter als etwa der aus Prag stammende Dramatiker des Expressionismus Paul Kornfeld oder der in Brünn geborene Romancier und Essayist Ernst Weiss, beide zu ihrer Zeit weitbekannte und hochgeschätzte Autoren, beide—ebenso wie Fuchs—meine nahen Freunde. […]

Fuchs nun war als literarische Erscheinung besonders auch wegen des sozialen Aspektes seiner Veröffentlichungen bemerkenswert. Er war ein Fall von vollendeter Zweisprachigkeit und hätte ebensogut als tschechischer wie als deutscher Autor gelten können, verlegte aber sein schöpferisches Schwergewicht auf die deutsche Seite seines Wesens. Seine Art von Zweisprachigkeit war eine Seltenheit, […]. Es gab in Prag einige literarische Erscheinungen dieser Art, z. B. Otto Pick oder Paul Eisner, die beide—ebenso wie Fuchs—zu übersetzerischen Vermittlerrollen gleichsam von Natur prädestiniert schienen […].

(Poetically, he [Rudolf Fuchs] was certainly more interesting to Kafka than, for example, the Expressionist playwright from Prague, Paul Kornfeld, or the novelist and essayist born in Brünn, Ernst Weiss, both of whom were well-known and highly esteemed authors of their time, and both—like Fuchs—close friends of mine. […])

Fuchs, however, was particularly remarkable as a literary figure due to the social aspect of his publications. He was a case of complete bilingualism and could have been considered just as much a Czech as a German author, but he shifted the focus of his creative work to the German side of his being. His kind of bilingualism was a rarity, […]. There were some literary figures of this kind in Prague, for example, Otto Pick or Paul Eisner, both of whom—like Fuchs—seemed almost naturally destined for the role of linguistic mediators […].

(Urzidil 2004, pp. 124–25)13

According to the research of Jürgen Serke and Pravoslav Kneidl, the secondary school Fuchs mentions was located in Nikolandergasse (today Mikulandská 5/134)14 and was also attended by Rainer Maria Rilke (Serke 1987, p. 249), who was 15 years his senior, as well as Egon Erwin Kisch (Kneidl 2003, p. 207), who was five years his senior. For a long time, there was disagreement over whether Serke’s and Kneidl’s information could be verified with regard to these early years. This point of contention can now be definitively resolved through the research conducted for this article, as it was possible to examine an original copy of “Die Nikolander Realschule in Prag 1833–1933”, which was published by Ernst Pollak on behalf of the “Festschriften-Ausschuss” (commemorative committee). It was the commemorative publication for the hundredth anniversary of the Nikolanderschule in the Prague City Library, and the cover design and typesetting were completed by Hugo Steiner-Prag.15 Fuchs appears among the names of the so-called “Redaktions-Komitee” (editorial committee), contributing the poems “Leuchtturmwächter”, “Buchhalter Jirman”, and “Jahreszeiten” to the volume (Pollak 1933, pp. 157–59). According to the short biography provided there, Fuchs began attending the school in 1902 (at the age of 12) and completed it in 1908 (Pollak 1933, p. 142). Fuchs’ second autobiography, written for his 50th birthday while in exile in London, followed in 1940, as mentioned earlier.

In Prag war es für mich nicht leicht. Die deutsche Sprache machte mir Schwierigkeiten. Zum Glück war ich bei einer kunstsinnigen Familie untergebracht. Der Hausherr las uns Heinrich Heine vor, sein Sohn, mit mir etwa gleichaltrig, hatte dichterisches Talent.

(It was not easy for me in Prague. The German language posed difficulties for me. Fortunately, my lodgings were with an art-loving family. The head of the household would read us Heinrich Heine, and his son, who was about my age, had a talent for poetry).

(Fuchs 1943, p. 5)16

According to research by Klaus Johann and Vera Scheiders, the “art-loving family” appears to have been the family of Gertrude Urzidil—specifically, the Thiebergers (Schneider and Johann 2010, p. 326). The similarly aged son must therefore have been Friedrich Thieberger, who was born on 12 November 1888, in Goltsch-Jenikau (today Golčův Jeníkov). He later became a philosopher of religion, a Judaist, and a publicist, and was also Franz Kafka’s Hebrew teacher.17 This brief outline of Fuchs’ early years shows that he was able to establish and maintain contacts with German-speaking Prague intellectuals from an early age, both through his private surroundings (staying with the Thieberger family) and his educational environment (Nikolanderschule). This was despite the fact that his family was no longer as affluent as that of his classmates because:

Mein Vater war 2 Jahre zuvor [vor seiner Maturita] in Podebrad gestorben, meine Mutter nur karg versorgt,…

(My father had died in Podebrad two years earlier [before Fuchs’ matriculation exam18], my mother was only meagerly provided for,…)

(Fuchs 1943, p. 6) (see Note 16 above)

After taking the matriculation exam, Fuchs attended the Abiturientenkurs (graduate course) at the Deutschen Handelsakademie (German Academy of Commerce) in Prague, worked for an unspecified period in an export house in Berlin, and then returned to Prague, where he faced a “Beamten- und Angestelltendasein, mit allen seinen Plagen und geringen Sicherheiten“ (a life as a civil servant and employee, with all its plights and limited security, (Fuchs 1943, p. 6)) (Ibid.), as Fuchs describes it in his autobiography.

5. 1912–1914: Political Attitude in Context of Intercultural Mediation Behavior

Despite the afore-mentioned challenges, Rudolf Fuchs was highly productive as a poet and translator of Czech poetry into German, appearing in numerous Expressionist journals,19 as the bibliography compiled for the period 1912–1914 in Appendix A of this paper shows. During this time, Fuchs published his own poetry in well-known Expressionist publications such as “Der Brenner” (Fuchs 1913a, p. 589), “Saturn” (Fuchs 1913c, no. 7, p. 201; Fuchs 1913d, no. 10, pp. 277–78; Fuchs 1914a, no. 2, pp. 63–64; Fuchs 1914f, no. 5/6, pp. 156–57), “Die weißen Blätter” (Fuchs 1914b, no. 11/12, pp. 1244–46; Fuchs 1914d, no. 11/12, p. 1245; Fuchs 1914e, no. 11/12, p. 1246), (and also later in “Die schöne Rarität” (Fuchs 1917e, Issue 2, p. 24; 1917d, Issue 3, p. 52; 1917a, Issue 6, p. 116), “Die Botschaft” (Fuchs 1920c, “Ein Lied”, p. 94; 1920b, “Die Wiedertaufe”, pp. 94–95; 1920e, “Hinrichtung”, p. 96; 1920g, “Meines ist…”, pp. 97–98; 1920f, “Im Dunkeln”, pp. 98–99; 1920a, “Aller Tage Abend”, pp. 99–100; 1920d, “Emigranten”, pp. 100–1; 1920h, “Meine Väter”, p. 101), “Der Friede” (Fuchs 1918d, vol. 1, No. 4, p. 91; 1918c, vol. 2, No. 30, pp. 91–92; 1918a, vol. 2, No. 34, pp. 188–89; 1918b, vol. 2, No. 38, p. 285), “Das jüdische Prag” (Fuchs 1917g, “Zwei Gedichte”, p. 21; 1917b, “Benjamins Kriegslied”, p. 21; 1917f, “Mensch selbst”, p. 21; 1917c, “Der Sündenfall”, pp. 34–35), “Der Feuerreiter” (Fuchs 1922, vol. 1, No. 2, p. 78; 1923, vol. 2, No. 3, p. 82; 1924f, vol. 3, No. 2, pp. 53–54; 1924a, vol. 3, No. 2, p. 53), “Deutsche Dichter aus Prag” (Fuchs 1919f, “Schreiber”, pp. 105–7; 1919a, “Abend”, pp. 107–8; 1919c, “Die Wiedertaufe”, pp. 108–9; 1919e, “Novalis”, pp. 109–10; 1919b, “Der Zweikampf”, p. 110) and the anthology “Verse der Lebenden—Deutsche Lyrik seit 1910” (Fuchs 1924e, “Die Mutter”, pp. 73–74; 1924b, “Begegnung”, pp. 74–76; 1924d, “Die Fahrt”, p. 76; and 1924c, “Der Mond”, pp. 76–77). Hence, Fuchs was neither a marginal literary figure, nor can his work be reduced solely to his translation activities.

In addition to poems that addressed biblical-Jewish themes (e.g., “Benjamins Karawane”,20 1916 (Fuchs 1916a, p. 277)), his early Expressionist poems already criticized industrialization and its consequences (e.g., in “Abend”, 1913 (Fuchs 1913a, p. 589)), as was typical of Expressionism; however, they were far less radical than Georg Heym’s scathing critique of early capitalist conditions in the city, which he poetically expressed in “Der Gott der Stadt” (“The God of the City”) in 1910. What Fuchs lacked in radicalism, he compensated for through his selection of Czech poetry to translate into German, especially in his debut translation of poems by the Moravian-Silesian national poet, Petr Bezruč, published in the “Herder-Blätter” in 1912 (Bezruč 1912a).21 In 1913, when Fuchs was just 23 years old, his first collection of poems, “Der Meteor” (Fuchs 1913b), was published. In contrast to these early poems by Fuchs, Bezruč’s radicalism was not limited to mere criticism of industrialization but was a harsh critique of capitalism, directed against what the Czechs saw as Austrian oppression, as this excerpt from the poem “Ostrau” illustrates:

Ein stummes Jahrhundert im Schachte verlebt

bei Kohle auf schwarzen Geleisen;

im fleischlosen Arme der Muskel strebt

gestrafft und verhärtet zu Eisen.

[…]

Ihr alle in Schlesien, hebt euch heran,

ob Peter, ob Paul ihr geheißen,

einjeder befehlige tausend Mann,

die Brust bepanzert mit Eisen!

Ihr alle in Schlesien, seid auf der Hut,

ihr Herren des tiefen Bereiches:

einst hüllt sich die Stunde in Feuer und glut,

einst dämmert der Tag des Vergleiches!

(Bezruč 1916, translated by Rudolf Fuchs, pp. 19–20)22

This poem describes the harsh, grueling life of a worker who has spent a silent century in a coal mine. His body has hardened from the heavy labor, and coal has marked him outwardly—dust covers his eyelids, his lips have faded, and coal colors his hair and eyebrows. The bread he eats at work is permeated with coal, and his life is filled with toil.

Despite the hardships, the worker felt the power of the hammer and showed how serious he was about his struggle. He calls upon his fellow workers in Silesia to rise up and stand against the lords of the mines. The poem hints that one day, a time of reckoning will come, a day when the oppressed will fight back and seek justice for the wrongs done to them. The poem ends with a warning to the lords of the deep domains (“tiefer Bereich”/Austria) to stay vigilant, as the hour of reckoning is approaching.

In contrast, at that time, Fuchs’ own poetry, like that of many of his contemporaries, still prominently featured the emphatic exclamation, “Oh, Mensch”, expressing the existential crisis and deep discomfort of humans with their alienation, isolation, and the social and ethical upheavals of their time as a common reference point. This is expressed, among other things, in the poem “Romanze vom Betrug der Welt” (Romance of the Deception of the World), which traverses the themes of the transience of life, illusion and deception, existential questions and uncertainty, nature and the cosmos, and the longing for stability and comfort, as illustrated by this excerpt:

Sturm war durch die Welt gefahren

und wir schauern spät und klein.

Vor den Füßen—in den Haaren –

flackernd Baum und Raum und Wein –

Sturm!

[…]

Mich läßt hier nichts allein.

Nun wieder ist es meiner Lampe Schein,

der milde sich, wie Mutterhände walten,

mir über meiner Stirne Gram und Falten

verwehen läßt und mein Gesicht erhellt.

Die treue flammte schon zu meinen Kindeszeiten,

mit einem Licht, das heut nicht mehr gelingt.

Verloren ruft es mir, wie meine Amme singt,

ich halt dabei das Bett ihr aufbereiten …

Wo blieb er sich? Wer trägt mich durch die Welt?!

(“Romanze vom Betrug der Welt”. (Fuchs 1916b, p. 350))23

In this poem, the lyrical speaker describes the experience of a stormy, chaotic state sweeping through the world, leaving him in a state of unrest and uncertainty. The natural forces, symbolized by the storm, permeate the surroundings, causing everything around the speaker to flicker and tremble. These are typical Expressionist images. Despite this external turmoil, the speaker finds a moment of peace and comfort in the light of a lamp, which reminds him of maternal care and his childhood. This lamp, which has been shining since his early years, provides him with solace and brightens his face as he feels lost and searches for support in an unstable world. The poem’s conclusion emphasizes loneliness and the need for guidance and support in turbulent times.

However, the idea that had been germinating in Fuchs, as in many of his contemporaries since his school days in Nikolandergasse, was the desire to overcome the old monarchical structures (especially the power structures emanating from Vienna), and to articulate opposition to militarism and early industrial conditions. This dissatisfaction grew between 1914 and 1918, and Fuchs summed up this period as follows:

Aber ich lernte das Leben kennen, sah, wie es in der Industrie und im Handel zuging, erfuhr am eigenen Leibe die Ausnuetzung und sozialen Ungerechtigkeiten, beobachtete, wie es anderen erging, und nahm von Jahr zu Jahr immer leidenschaftlicher an dem Kampf gegen die soziale und nationale Unterdrückung teil. Der Krieg [1914–1918] hatte mir vollends die Augen geöffnet.

(But I got to know life, saw what it was like in industry and commerce, experienced first-hand the exploitation and social injustices, observed how others fared, and from year to year became more and more passionate about the fight against social injustice and national oppression. The war [1914–1918] completely opened my eyes).

(Fuchs 1943, p. 6) (see Note 13 above)

The profound impact of World War I on Rudolf Fuchs is evident not only in his autobiographical statements but also in the gradual evolution of his work as a translator. Fuchs’ pre-war interest in the socially revolutionary Czech national poet Petr Bezruč grew significantly during the war, as can be observed in a clear shift in his approach to translation, reflecting his increasing engagement with themes of social justice24 and a focus on Czech–German mediation. These themes would later also shape his own poems, novels, and plays. Indeed, Fuchs increasingly focused on Bezruč, whose work he published in German translation in 1916 under the title “Schlesische Lieder”.25 Thus, Fuchs’ early interest in Bezruč, evident before 1912, evolved into a deeper engagement during and after the war. This was not only an expression of his opposition to the Austro-Hungarian monarchy and militarism but also part of a larger goal: to introduce German-speaking readers to the rich culture of the Czechs. He continued this effort in 1926 (Fuchs 1926) when he published a collection of classic Czech poets26 under the title “Ein Erntekranz. Aus hundert Jahren tschechischer Dichtung” (A Harvest Wreath of 100 Years of Czech Poetry) in German translation. The volume contains texts by Karel Jaromír Erben (1811–1870), František Ladislav Čelakovský (1799–1852), Jan Neruda (1834–1891), Jaroslav Vrchlický (1853–1912), Antonín Sova (1864–1928), Otokar Březina (1868–1929), Karel Hlaváček (1874–1898), Karel Toman (1877–1946), Stanislav Karel Neumann (1875–1947), Fráňa Šrámek (1877–1952), Otokar Theer (1880–1917), Otokar Fischer (1883–1938), Petr Křička (1884–1949), Jaroslav Durych (1886–1962), Josef Hora (1891–1945), Jiří Wolker (1900–1924), and again Petr Bezruč (1867–1958).

6. 1914–1918: Influence of Political Thinking on Intercultural Mediation

Fuchs’ description of his experiences during World War I, which reads so easily, entails an intense personal experience with the Austrian legal system. In 1916, Fuchs sent a batch of translations of Bezruč’s poems to Franz Pfemfert, the editor of “Die Aktion”, in Berlin-Wilmersdorf (Seehase 1987, p. 180; and Binder 1991, pp. 20–21), but it was intercepted by the Austrian military censorship. Fuchs was subsequently interrogated by the political police and later drafted into military service in Nagy Kanyzca, Croatia. During his time in the army, he reportedly (Fuchs 1943, p. 7) read from the proof sheets of his translations of Bezruč’s “Silesian Songs”, which were being prepared for publication. This translated volume, featuring poems by Bezruč and a passionate foreword by Franz Werfel, was published during World War I. It fiercely opposed the militaristic-monarchical zeitgeist and, not least of all, the rule of Austria-Hungary:

Unser Herz fühlt connational mit allen Unterdrückten aller Völker. Unser Geist haßt die Macht = und Selbstbewusststeinsform aller Völker. […] Die Macht wird immer den Geist hassen müssen, wie er sie haßt, denn die beste Macht selbst hat die Pflicht, an einer erreichten Ordnung festzuhalten und sie zu bewahren, während der Geist jedes irdische Reich auslöschen muß.

(Our heart feels itself co-national with all the oppressed of all nations. Our spirit hates the form that power and self-awareness takes in all peoples. […] Power must always hate the spirit, as the spirit hates power, because even the best power has the duty to maintain and preserve an established order, while the spirit must extinguish every earthly realm).

Werfel in (Bezruč 1916, pp. VI–VII) (see Note 13 above)

The rebellion against this “established order” is most clearly seen in the poem “Ostrau”, which was printed in this collection of poems. The criticism expressed therein towards the Austrian authorities is, however, still restrained compared to the 1937 translation (Bezruč 1937, p. 114), which is phrased much more radically than the 1916 (Bezruč 1916, p. 19) translation. The reason for this was presumably the ongoing state of war in which Austria-Hungary found itself in 1916 and the fact that Bohemia and Moravia were integral parts of the Habsburg Empire at the time, making open criticism of Vienna politically risky. By 1937, however, Fuchs was living in the Czechoslovak Republic, where Prague served as the capital of an independent state, allowing him the freedom to express himself more openly.

7. Historical Background: Czech National Revival

Like many of his contemporaries, Fuchs probably found his political home early on in rebelling against materialism and industrialization, war and militarism, and bourgeois morality. He seems to have quickly recognized a connection between the early industrial conditions, particularly in the coal region around Ostrau (Czech: Ostrava), and the imbalance of power between the Imperial capital and the Vienna-ruled northern crown lands (“Cisleithania”). Fuchs’ birth in 1890 coincided with the end of a political emancipation process known today as the “Czech National Revival”.27 In 1897, the Austrian Prime Minister Kasimir Felix Badeni (1895–1897),28 aiming for an “Austro-Czech Compromise”, issued a Nationalities Ordinance that required all political communities in Bohemia and Moravia to be administered bilingually. This ordinance was repealed in 1899 (Mommsen 2007, pp. 111–18). The “Moravian Compromise” of 1905 was also short-lived (Fasora 2006). The Bohemian Diet was dissolved by the imperial patent of 26 July 1913 (Hoensch 1997). That Fuchs not only connected with the Czech language, which he had absorbed natively as a child, but also with the Czech people and their culture, is evident both in his autobiography (“Im [ersten] Weltkrieg gehörten meine Sympathien den Tschechen und ihrem Befreiungskampf”./In the [first] World War, my sympathies lay with the Czechs and their struggle for liberation (see Note 16 above). (Fuchs 1943, p. 7)) and through his choice of Czech poetry. He translated this poetry into German from his earliest youth, as the short biography proves, which was printed in the anniversary volume of the Nikolander School and refers to Fuchs’ first translation work, the “Písně Otroka” (“Songs of a Slave”) by Svatopluk Čech (1846–1908) (Pollak 1933, pp. 142–43). With Fuchs’ selection of Czech poetry to translate into German, he aligned himself with the tradition of his ancestors, who understood the National Revival in the 18th and 19th centuries as a reaction to Germanizing policies and aimed to strengthen Czech literature and national identity to achieve parity with German culture. The crucial difference with Fuchs was in his role as a cultural intermediary: Fuchs wanted to introduce Czech poets to Germans in Germany (Topoľská 1978, p. 15).

Another key difference between Fuchs and his literary contemporaries, such as Kafka, Brod, or Johannes Urzidil, was his embrace of Communism. According to research by Jürgen Serke (1987, p. 253), Fuchs’ future brother-in-law, Josef Strich, was significantly involved in this development. Serke’s interviews with contemporaries and his documentation of eyewitness accounts are supported by a letter Fuchs wrote to Strich, dated 27 July 1921, which contains the following passage:

Und nun zu Ihnen, lieber Freund und Genosse Strich! […] Ihre gute Meinung ist mir ein Ansporn mich ernst zu nehmen, wenn es gilt. Sie fragen mich, ob Sie mich zu den Ihren rechnen können. Wenn Sie von den Schwächen und Schlacken absehen wollen, die einen Teil von mir bilden, dann in Gottes Namen bin ich Ihr Genosse. Ich erkenne die kapitalistische Weltordnung als der Übel größtes, ich unterwerfe mich mit Selbstverständlichkeit dem Geist der neuen Organisation (Diktatur), deren Macht ich keineswegs schwinden sehe, und ich lobe den Kampf. […].

Gestern hatte Macek seinen großen Tag. Unter den Führern der kommunistischen Turner, etwa 50,000 an der Zahl, schritt er barhaupt, am schönsten Sonntag=Mittag durch die Straßen, und ich lüge Ihnen nicht: der Mann sah heilig aus.

(And now to you, dear friend and comrade Strich! […] Your good opinion is an incentive for me to take myself seriously when it matters. You ask me if you can count me among yours. If you can overlook the weaknesses and dross that form part of me, then in God’s name, I am your comrade. I recognize the capitalist world order as the greatest of evils, I naturally submit to the spirit of the new organization (dictatorship), whose power I do not see waning, and I praise the struggle. […].

Yesterday was Macek’s big day. Among the leaders of the communist gymnasts, about 50,000 in number, he walked bareheaded, on the most beautiful Sunday noon through the streets, and I am not lying to you: the man looked saintly.

(Fuchs 1985, pp. 333–34) and verified in the Museum of Czech Literature Prague, Box 2, Item Number: LA 139/70/0016).29

As Serke aptly described in his biography of Fuchs, the latter sought his homeland in his origins and found it in Communism (Serke 1987, p. 247). More specifically, by 1921, Fuchs saw the resolution of the national conflicts and social struggles of his time in the formation of class consciousness and a socialist world peace based on international understanding. According to Serke’s research, although he criticized the socialist movement in conversation with Erich Fried (1921–1988) during his exile in London,30 Fuchs was never tired of publishing, engaging in politics, and working on the creation and publication of a “Deutscher Almanach aus der Čechoslovakei”. (German almanac from Czechoslovakia).31 However, due to his untimely death this work never appeared. The almanac and the reasons for the selection of contributors have already been recently discussed in detail in an article in the journal “Brünner Beiträge zur Germanistik und Nordistik” (Kountouroyanis 2023, pp. 47–68), along with the conflict-laden correspondence with Johannes Urzidil, who had sent him a text entitled “Überlieferung und Zukunft des böhmischen Menschen” (Ibid., pp. 57–59) (“Lore and Future of the Bohemian Man”) for the almanac from his exile in New York City, but which did not fit, in Fuchs’ opinion, into the overall concept of the almanac. The selection of contributors for the Almanach likely reflects Fuchs’ commitment to fostering intercultural dialog and social critique, aligning with his broader vision of solidarity and justice central to his embrace of Communism”.

8. Network Correspondence in the Context of Political Thinking and Intercultural Mediation

Though Rudolf Fuchs’ commitment to Communism may have seemed like a sudden and unanchored shift to previous scholars, archival research now demonstrates how his political thinking and intercultural mediation efforts were closely intertwined, as evidenced by his extensive correspondence with contemporaries from diverse ideological backgrounds. These letters, preserved in Fuchs’ estate, reveal the breadth of his network, which included prominent literary and political figures of his time, such as:

Petr Bezruč (1867–1858), Max Brod (1884–1968), Otokar Březina (1868–1929), Oscar Walter Cisek (1897–1966), Karl Čapek (1890–1938), Josef Čapek (1887–1945), Richard Dehmel (1863–1920), Jaroslav Durych (1886–1962), Otokar Fischer (1883–1938), Willy Haas (1891–1973), Gerhard Hauptmann (1862–1946), Hugo von Hofmannsthal (1874–1929), Rudolf Illový (1881–1943), Franz Kafka (1883–1924), Paul Kornfeld (1899–1942), J. S. Machar (1864–1942), Josef Mühlberger (1903–1985), Otto Pick (1887–1940), Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926), Hugo Salus (1866–1929), Johannes Urzidil (1896–1970), Will Vesper (1882–1962), Hans Watzlik (1879–1948), Franz Werfel (1890–1945), Kurt Wolff (1887–1963), Petr Zenkl (1884–1975), and Stefan Zweig (1881–1942).

This list is by no means exhaustive. An extended one, along with the professional and artistic activities of the correspondents, is included in Appendix B of this paper. It was based on the correspondence found in the first box at the Archive of the Museum of Czech Literature (earlier known as the National Literature Memorial—PNP32) in Prague. It, too, cannot be regarded as complete, as it is likely that some items were lost due to the war. Furthermore, part of the estate is in the private possession of Fuchs’ descendants and has not yet been academically processed.

From this short inventory emerges, among other things, the fact that Rudolf Fuchs corresponded with Hans Watzlik, a Sudeten German who later became a member of the NSDAP (See Baur 2006, pp. 21–37). Watzlik was an individual who could be described as extremely far-right by today’s standards. However, the correspondence with Watzlik reveals that Fuchs introduced him to the poems of Bezruč and other Czech classics33 and probably intended to build a bridge with the Sudeten Germans through his German translations. With these translations, Fuchs aimed to build a connection with the Sudeten Germans through literature, hoping that they would align with his broader ideals of intercultural dialog. However, as is now known, Watzlik was among Hitler’s most loyal cultural figures. Nevertheless, there were not only far-right Sudeten Germans but also left-wing Sudeten Germans, whom Fuchs later encountered again during his exile in London. This point will be revisited at the end of this article when Rudolf Fuchs’ final years in London exile are discussed.

Another estate held in the City Archive of Hanover (Germany) reveals that Fuchs also maintained a correspondence with the Professor of Philosophy at the then University of Hannover, Theodor Lessing. Theodor Lessing was an independent, critical thinker and an outspoken opponent of nationalist-conservative movements. He had published his famous “Hindenburg Portrait” (Lessing 1925, p. 3) in the “Prager Tagblatt”, in which he ironically criticized the then Reich President Paul von Hindenburg. In 1933, Lessing, who was Jewish, had to flee to the Czech town of Marienbad (today Mariánské Lázně), where he was murdered by Sudeten German nationalists (See Marwedel 2024). The letter from 24 February 1931,34 from Rudolf Fuchs to Theodor Lessing proves that Fuchs also handed over books of Czech classics in German translation (by Fuchs) to Lessing for review. These two references show that Fuchs corresponded with very different contemporaries and presented his translation work to them in the spirit of intercultural mediation. As can also be seen from Appendix B, Fuchs corresponded in a bilingual environment. Sometimes, his contemporaries wrote to him in German, and other times in Czech. It can be assumed that most Czechs spoke German at that time. However, not everyone mastered both German and Czech at the same native level, which is why many contemporaries preferred one of the other for correspondence. A number of authors mastered both languages at a native level, and they included Fuchs.

Fuchs was certainly aware of his potential as a mediator between cultures, and he wanted to utilize it. The question is, with what intention did he do this at various stages of his life? Initially, Fuchs doubtless found his ideas reflected in the common agenda of Expressionism, which was shared by his contemporaries in Berlin and Vienna. According to research by Lucy Topoľská, however, Fuchs’ mediation was not aimed at the Germans in Bohemia and Moravia or the later First Czechoslovak Republic. He assumed their familiarity with the Czech-language poets he introduced (Topoľská 1978, p. 15). Instead, the translations were meant for Germans in the German Empire and the subsequent Weimar Republic. However, it should be mentioned that current research shows that Hans Watzlik lamented his own poor knowledge of the Czech language, and therefore of Czech literature, to Fuchs.35 Jennifer A. Taylor suggests that Fuchs undertook the Bezruč translations as an act of international understanding (Taylor 1992, pp. 168–69). According to Taylor, this suggests that Fuchs sought to bridge cultural divides by making Czech literary works accessible to a German-speaking audience, fostering mutual appreciation and dialog between the two cultures.

In summary, it can be stated that Fuchs primarily carried out his translation work for an audience in Germany, specifically within the German Empire and later the Weimar Republic. His aim was not only to make Czech poetry known but also to foster a deeper understanding of the cultural and social concerns of the Czech people. It was likely that Fuchs’ conviction that literature could serve as a tool to overcome nationalistic boundaries and promote social justice. The decision to publish with publishers, such as Kurt Wolff in Leipzig, was certainly also driven by pragmatic considerations: the publishing landscape and copyright laws in Germany offered him better opportunities to disseminate his translations. However, it is important to emphasize that the publication of the “Silesian Songs” in 191636 with Kurt Wolff was facilitated by Max Brod, indicating that Fuchs was part of a broader network of German-speaking intellectuals who thought and worked beyond the borders of Czechoslovakia. Given his socialist inclinations and his engagement during the interwar period, it can be inferred that Fuchs saw his translation work not only as a cultural endeavor but also as a political mission. His choice of authors like Petr Bezruč shows that he deliberately selected voices advocating for social justice and national self-determination. It appears that Fuchs intended not only to convey literature but also to communicate political messages that reflected his own socialist convictions. Thus, it can be concluded that Fuchs aimed to introduce Czech literature in Germany, not only to build cultural bridges but also to bring the social and political realities of the Czech people to a German audience. His focus was more on a broader, intellectual readership in Germany rather than on the German-speaking minorities within Czechoslovakia itself.

Be that as it may, one observes, from 1921/1922 onward, a shift to the left in Fuchs’ attitude and mediation pattern. This coincides precisely with the period of Fuchs’ interaction with his future brother-in-law, Josef Strich, mentioned above. Therefore, this investigation seeks to determine how Fuchs’ political thinking influenced his intercultural mediation. To delve deeper into this issue, additional historical facts must be considered that shed light on Fuchs’ political stance in the context of his intercultural mediation pattern.

9. Cultural Intermediary, Social Critic, or Communist?

The occasionally cited reference that claims Fuchs had been a member of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (KSČ)37 since its founding in 1921,38 likely stems from an undocumented entry in the “Lexikon sozialistischer deutscher Literatur” (Diersen et al. 1963, p. 182), published in 1963 in East Germany. In the poetry collection “VZKAZ” (The Message), published posthumously in Prague in 1950, the editors claimed (without evidence) that Fuchs did not become a member of the KSČ until the 1930s (Fuchs 1950, p. 8). Paul Reimann, one of the three editors of the posthumous volume “Ein wissender Soldat” (Fuchs 1943), wished to confirm as an eyewitness in 1961 that Fuchs was a member of the KSČ (Reimann 1961, p. 175). N. M. Matuzova39 seems to have uncritically adopted the entry from the 1963 East German literary lexicon in 1971, without specifying this further (Matuzova 1971, p. 98). Lucy Topoľská dedicates a brief page in her dissertation to this issue and views Fuchs’ alleged party membership as contentious and not clearly proven (Topoľská 1978, pp. 23–24). West German Studies scholar Hartmut Binder40 critically views the investigations by East German Lecturer of Czech and Slovak Literature Ilse Seehase regarding Fuchs’ alleged “understanding of revolution” (Seehase 1987, pp. 181, 183) in his 1919 poetry collection “Karawane” (Fuchs 1919d). In 1992, Jennifer A. Taylor attributes Fuchs only to the “left wing of Social Democracy” (Taylor 1992, p. 168).

To date, the extent to which Rudolf Fuchs was interpreted in terms of Communism by literary scholars in East Germany and Czechoslovakia after 1945 has hardly been the subject of research. A thorough re-examination is urgently needed, as numerous errors have crept into the research literature on Fuchs, both before and after 1989.41 Thus, in such literature, the classification of Rudolf Fuchs ranges from a bridge-builder between cultures, through the “left wing of Social Democracy”, to a (so far only attested) member of the KSČ. Research into membership cards of former KSČ members contained in the archives is still pending.42

10. Rudolf Fuchs’ Collaboration with Ervín Schulhoff

It is noteworthy that in 1932, the composer and pianist Ervín Schulhoff (1894–1942) set “The Communist Manifesto” to music as Opus 82 in the form of a cantata. In 1961, the piano transcription of Schulhoff’s 1932 composition, previously thought to have been lost, was published in Prague. According to the preface of the oratorio, Schulhoff approached Fuchs, who had written the libretto (Schulhoff 1961, p. 10). This is entirely plausible, considering that Fuchs and Schulhoff lived in Prague at the same time, and Fuchs had certainly collaborated with Rudolf Thomas on the libretto for Hans Krása’s opera, “Verlobung im Traum” (Engagement in a Dream).43 Additionally, more scores with librettos edited by Fuchs can be found in the Prague National Archive in Prague-Chodov, including Schulhoff’s “Drahtbinder” and “Das Lied” as well as op. 20 and “Dva mužské sbory—na slova P. Bezruče a J. Wolkerа” by Vilém Petrželka.44 And, moreover, a song cycle by Schulhoff, including the piece “Plumenau/Plumlov” (Schulhoff 2017), and featuring adaptations by Fuchs, was published in 2017. All this suggests that Fuchs collaborated extensively with Schulhoff.

11. Fuchs’ Development of Narrative Strategies

In light of the above information, it is not an exaggeration to state that there was a shift in Fuchs’ ideological stance from that of an Expressionist bridge-builder to that of a member of the left fringe of socialist internationalism.45 In other words, the initial criticism of the conditions of industrialization during the early phase of Expressionism led Fuchs, over time, against the backdrop of evolving political and social conditions, to increasingly focus on socialist ideals and their dissemination. This can partly be explained by the fact that in the 1930s, many intellectuals and artists, especially those with socialist or communist sympathies, had an idealized view of the Soviet Union and saw it as a counterbalance to the rising fascism in Europe and, particularly in Germany, and thus focused on positive aspects such as the promotion of the arts and official support for equality and emancipation. This becomes clear when looking at Fuchs’ lecture at the Bert Brecht-Klub in February 1936 and his article in “Internationale Literatur”.46 In the lecture, he attests to Russia’s “political health” (Fuchs 1936, p. 8), and its enabling of the production of great literature while German writers and poets were either in exile or concentration camps.47 Two years later, in 1938, Fuchs placed Franz Kafka in a socialist context in a book review of Max Brod’s Kafka biography and lamented the lack of a “socialist interpretation [that] has not yet been attempted” (Fuchs 1938, p. 118). Fuchs also sought in vain a focus on the October Revolution of 1917 in Brod’s Kafka biography (Ibid., p. 118). Further insight into Fuchs’ perspective on the developments of his time can be gleaned from the compilation of texts for the “Deutscher Almanach aus der Czechoslovakei”, on which Fuchs was still working until his sudden death in London. In this work, he attempted to trace the history of his homeland from the revolutionary year of 1848 (Moritz Hartmann: “Wiener Oktober 1848” (Kountouroyanis 2023, p. 63)) to the present (Rudolf Fuchs: “In unseren Dörfern”48).

12. On the Reception of Fuchs After 1945

Whether Fuchs would have decided to return to Czechoslovakia after the war can only be surmised. In his article, using Louis Fürnberg (1909–1957)49 as an example, Jan Gerber points to the significant transformation of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, which systematically pushed Jewish comrades out of key positions after 9 May 1945 (Gerber 2018, p. 198), replacing them with what they considered clearly identifiable and more reliable Czechs (Ibid., p. 194) to achieve a homogenization of party and population. Ultimately, the skills of Jewish Party members, such as their bilingualism and ability to mediate between German and Czech culture, were no longer necessary, and even suspect (Ibid., p. 195). This pressure reached its peak in the Slánský trials of 1952.50 Ernst Sommer, whose text “Austreibung” Fuchs selected for the “Deutscher Almanach aus der Czechoslovakei”, attempted to return to Czechoslovakia in 1946/47. However, he did not succeed, returned to London, acquired British citizenship, and remained there until his death.51 Looking at the fates of Louis Fürnberg, F. C. Weiskopf,52 and Ernst Sommer, it can be assumed that Rudolf Fuchs could have been among the accused during the Slánský trials had he returned to Czechoslovakia.

Be that as it may, Czechoslovakia did take an interest in Fuchs’ poems after the war in order to instrumentalize him for its own purposes. This assumption is evidenced by the previously mentioned collection of poems, titled “VZKAZ” (The Message), which contained poems by Fuchs in Czech translation and was posthumously published in Prague in 1950. According to the imprint, these poems were translated from German into Czech by Pavel Eisner (1889–1958),53 Valter Feldstein (1911–1970),54 and Josef Falka55. The dust jacket describes Fuchs as an anti-fascist writer and a “revolutionary fighter of the working class” recommended to Czechoslovak youth:

Poprvé je česky vydán výbor z díla básníka a překladatele, který si získal významné zásluhy o rozvoj pokrokové literatury v Československu, R. Fuchse. R. Fuchs představuje spolu s E. E. Kischem, F. C. Weiskopfem, L. Fürnbergem a L. Winderem hrstku německých antifašistických spisovatelů z Čech, kteří v době poroby českého národa hitlerovským fašistickým imperialismem zachovali svou věrnost dělnické třídě a podporovali osvobozenecký boj českého národa. […] Básně R. Fuchse, revolučního bojovníka dělnické třídy, jsou svým jasným třídním zaměřením pro mladou generaci, vyrůstající v lidově-demokratickém Československu, hlubokým poučením na cestě vývoje nové socialistické kultury.

(For the first time, a selection from the works of the poet and translator R. Fuchs, who made significant contributions to the development of progressive literature56 in Czechoslovakia, is being published in Czech. Together with E.E. Kisch, F.C. Weiskopf, L. Fürnberg, and L. Winder, R. Fuchs represents a handful of German anti-fascist writers from Bohemia who, during the time of the enslavement of the Czech nation by Hitler’s fascist imperialism, maintained their loyalty to the working class and supported the liberation struggle of the Czech nation. […] The poems of R. Fuchs, a revolutionary fighter of the working class, provide profound instruction with their clear class orientation for the young generation growing up in the people’s democracy of Czechoslovakia, on the path to developing a new socialist culture).

(Fuchs 1950, pp. 7, 11) (see Note 16 above)

It is remarkable that in this context a document was found in the private estate of the Fox family, dated 23 February 1951. This indicates that the Prague Československá divadelní a literární jednatelství (Czechoslovak Theatrical and Literary Agency) actively tried to locate Fuchs’ heirs in Britain in order to offer Fuchs’ adopted son, Heinrich Fuchs, a royalty contract for a collection of poems with the title “VZKAZ” that was published in an edition of 3000 copies in Prague. The documents included this royalty contract and a letter of offer. It seems to have been an attempt by the communist state apparatus to recruit sympathetic writers or supporters, similar to the mass efforts that were occurring in East Germany at the same time (Niederhut 2011). Apparently, Fuchs’ poems and his biography were suitable for propaganda purposes in the ČSR and later the ČSSR.

In 1971 in the Ukrainian SSR, Nadiya Mykhaylivna Matuzova cemented Fuchs’ status as a “socialist writer” and (unsubstantiated) member of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, while in 1978, in the ČSSR, Lucy Topoľská, in her remarkable doctoral thesis, paid less attention to Fuchs’ political orientation, instead highlighting the complexity of Fuchs’ creative work. In 1984 at Charles University Prague57, Zdeňka Faifrová once again attributed him to the “progressive wing” in her extensive thesis “Rudolf Fuchs and [the] Czech Culture”. According to Faifrová, Fuchs’ socialist consciousness had evolved from “[…] an initially unconscious socialist sentiment, through feelings of disillusionment […] to the final realization of the necessity of struggle and to a socialist worldview”.58

With Ilse Seehase’s publication of the “Prager Aposteluhr” in 1985 and her essay in “Zeitschrift für Germanistik” (Journal of German Studies) in 1987, Fuchs’ “Karawane” of 1919 (Fuchs 1919d) was interpreted in the context of socialism in the GDR59 (East Germany), suggesting that Fuchs had reached “a new understanding of revolution”60 and that had led him to the side of the proletariat during the “December uprising of the Prague proletariat”.61 In the FRG62 (West Germany), Hartmut Binder (Binder 1991, pp. 18–23) and, more importantly, Jürgen Serke (Serke 1987, pp. 246–57), introduced Fuchs to a West German audience as a translator, poet, and mediator between cultures. Serke’s work, which includes the extensive portrait of Fuchs, was published in Czech in Prague in 2001 and in Japanese in Tokyo in 2018.

As evident from the preceding lines, Rudolf Fuchs was primarily perceived as a socialist writer east of the Iron Curtain. However, in the West, Hartmut Binder emphasized the complexity of Fuchs’ work and his role within a network of authors in the 1920s. Additionally, Jürgen Serke highlighted Fuchs’ role as a translator and mediator between German and Czech culture and noted his sympathies for the socialist idea.

Even 35 years after the Velvet Revolution, Czech literary scholars note that the academic discourse about Rudolf Fuchs still poses challenges. Discussions with Czech practitioners of German Studies reveal that the political labeling of Fuchs as a Communist during the communist era continues to complicate scholarly engagement with his work for Czech academics even today. In fact, Fuchs was categorized according to the official party doctrine in the ČSR/ČSSR from 1950 to 1989, and his role as a mediator in the context of a pluricultural society, which had shared the same territory for centuries (Spector 2000), was neglected. Monographs focused on Fuchs’ work as a lyricist, dramatist, and, above all, translator while ignoring the multicultural space of Prague, Bohemia, and Moravia, since this perspective did not correlate with the prevailing understanding63 of a proletarian class identity during Communism. Similarly, the extensive correspondence, which mainly housed in the literary archive of the Museum of Czech Literature (formerly PNP Prague-Strahov),64 remained largely unexamined. Ilse Seehase did transcribe significant segments of Fuchs’ correspondence and publish them in the “Prager Aposteluhr”. There is, nevertheless, a lack of systematic scholarly processing of his letters. Such a study could, in particular, unravel the complex cultural connections between Berlin, Prague, and Vienna during the interwar period.

13. The Complexity of Mediation: Rudolf Fuchs and the Sudeten German Exile Movement

Fuchs’ commitment to mediation and his focus on social criticism undoubtedly represent constants that persisted despite the turbulent times in which he lived. The way in which Fuchs mediated these values, both in his own works and through his selection of translation texts, and how these values were conveyed within their specific time and space, could be the subject of future literary-historical studies, which this essay aims to inspire.

Fuchs’ efforts to build bridges with the Sudeten Germans in exile during World War II reveal more about him, extending beyond the oft-repeated label of a ‘socialist writer’—used in the GDR, ČSSR, and Ukrainian SSR, as well as adopted in some encyclopedias—which often overshadowed his broader complexity. Fuchs’ connection to the Sudeten German refugees could be substantiated by another historical puzzle piece. In March 1941, Josef Zinner (1894–1961) was appointed chairman of the exile organization “German Social Democratic Labour Party of the Czechoslovak Republic/Foreign Group”. The organization initially had 176 members (Hardt et al. 1979, p. 246). As early as 6 November 1940, the twice-a-month magazine “Sozialistische Nachrichten—News-Letter, published by the German Social Democratic Labour Party in the Czechoslovakian Republic” was first published in London (Ibid.). Among its contributors was the Sudeten German communist Gustav Beuer (1893–1947) (Ibid.). The Zinner group worked closely with the Sudeten German communists in Great Britain. In 1942, a “Einheitsausschuß sudetendeutscher Antifaschisten” (Hardt et al. 1979, p. 247) (Unified Committee of Sudeten German Anti-Fascists) was formed. From 1942 to 1945, this committee published the journal “Einheit. Sudeten German Anti-fascist Fortnightly” (Ibid.). Rudolf Fuchs apparently had contact with contributors to this publication, as the posthumous volume “Ein wissender Soldat” was published in 1943 by the “Verlag der Einheit”, edited by his close friends Karl Kreibich, Guido Lagus, and Paul Reimann. This publication highlights the important role of ”Die Einheit”, not only as a publishing house with significant resources and organizational capacity that enabled the publication of Fuchs’ posthumous volume, but also as a central institution within the Sudeten German communist exile network in London. While the volume “Ein wissender Soldat” is relatively well-known in scholarly circles, the role of ”Die Einheit” and its connections to this exile community have thus far been largely overlooked. By addressing this gap, this paper sheds light on the previously unexamined significance of ‘Die Einheit’ in supporting and disseminating the work of exiled intellectuals like Fuchs. In the family estate, there is also correspondence with the adopted son Heinrich Fuchs regarding this volume. It is also noteworthy that in issue No. 9, 1943, an article by Karl Kneschke (1898–1959) about a planned “Rudolf Fuchs House” in London can be found, which was intended to be a “home” for the Sudeten German refugees in London. Here, Kneschke wrote:

Das Haus wird den Namen “Rudolf Fuchs Haus” tragen, den Namen des böhmischen Dichters, des Mittlers zwischen den Völkern unserer Heimat, des demokratischen und fortschrittlichen Mannes, der selbst ein Flüchtling aus Böhmen, vor mehr als einem Jahr in London im Blackout den Tod fand.

(The house will bear the name “Rudolf Fuchs House”, the name of the Bohemian poet, the mediator between the peoples of our homeland, the democratic and progressive man, who himself, a refugee from Bohemia, met his death in London during the blackout over a year ago).

(Kneschke 1943, p. 12) (see Note 13 above)

Kneschke regarded Fuchs once again as a “progressive man” in the sense of socialism, but also emphasized Fuchs’ role as a mediator between the peoples of his homeland. This dual emphasis in Kneschke’s description—Fuchs as both a “progressive man” and a “mediator between the peoples of our homeland”—portrays Fuchs as a figure whose work bridged ideological and ethnic divides. The planned “Rudolf Fuchs House” further illustrates how Kneschke positioned Fuchs’ legacy as not only advancing socialist ideals but also fostering unity within a fractured exile community.

14. Conclusions

From today’s perspective, Fuchs’ socially critical mediation can offer deep insights into the dynamics of cultural and ideological values under conditions of political volatility. This is particularly relevant for a continent characterized by an extremely heterogeneous political landscape with 47 countries and numerous ethnic minorities (including Sorbs, Roma, Sinti, Basques, Catalans, etc.). The comparisons historians65 draw between the 1920s and the 2020s further highlight that the concerns of Rudolf Fuchs and his contemporaries remain instructive for the current generation, especially in light of the political developments of the past decade.

Fuchs’ commitment to fostering understanding between German and Czech communities was deeply influenced by his political convictions, but it was not merely an exercise in political mediation. His efforts to translate and publish Czech classics, as well as to introduce German and Czech writers with a commitment to social critique to a broader audience, were driven by a belief in the power of literature to bridge cultural divides and promote social justice, especially in times of crisis.

At the core of Fuchs’ work are three primary values: social justice, a commitment to intercultural understanding, and a critique of oppression in all its forms. His translations of Czech poetry, such as the socially critical works of Petr Bezruč, exemplify his dedication to amplifying marginalized voices and bridging divides. His own texts, characterized by existential reflection and a quest for stability amidst chaos, also highlight his deep engagement with socialist ideals. Furthermore, his collaborations with anti-fascist movements and his efforts to introduce German and Czech writers, particularly those focused on social critique, to broader audiences reflect his enduring belief in the literature as a tool for societal transformation.

In light of the current socio-political landscape of 2024, characterized by rising nationalism, political polarization, and the marginalization of minority voices, Fuchs’ efforts hold renewed significance. Yet, we must acknowledge that the world we live in today is fundamentally different. The number of people who read books has decreased significantly. Platforms like X and TikTok have compressed communication into mere seconds, favoring speed over depth, and allowing hate speech and misinformation to proliferate unchecked. In such an environment, the reflective spaces that Fuchs once created through his translation work and his own literature are rapidly disappearing.

What Fuchs might have to say to us today is precisely this: the loss of these islands of reflection and depth poses a grave risk. Without the time and space for thoughtful dialog, the potential for conflicts to spiral out of control—exacerbated by the immediacy of digital media—is greater than ever before. Fuchs’ legacy reminds us that, in a world that prioritizes instant reactions over considered responses, we desperately need spaces for deliberate, meaningful communication. Perhaps, if we take anything from Fuchs’ life and work, it is the realization that the art of mediation, of bridging divides through thoughtful engagement, is more critical now than ever.