Schlögel, Karl

Karl Schlögel

Today, the historian and successful writer Karl Schlögel is snapping up one award after the other: in January 2005 the Lessing Prize, named in honour of the great German poet, in 2004 - among others - the Sigmund Freud Prize for scientific prose of the German Academy for Language and Literature. 'To be a historian means being able to describe and write history,' says Schlögel. His abilities are most ably demonstrated in his book entitled Petersburg. Das Laboratorium der Moderne 1909 –1921 (2nd edition, 2002) and his collection of essays Die Mitte liegt ostwärts. Europa im Übergang (2002).

In the humanities world, Schlögel has always been an exception to the rule even before his career began. A professor of Eastern European history at the European University Viadrina in Frankfurt/Oder, prior to his first appointment to Konstanz University in 1990 aged 42 Schlögel had never been a member of the scientific faculty at any university. Since completing his PhD in 1982 on the workers' opposition in the Soviet Union before the death of Stalin (1953) Schlögel had worked for many years as a 'freelance writer and scientist'. He wrote articles on the (to him) unmistakable downfall of the Soviet empire for virtually all major German daily and weekly newspapers and published several books, including his Petersburg monograph. The Eastern European historian Dietrich Geyer from Tübingen, a leading representative in the subject, praised it as the 'best' book available on Petersburg, describing it as 'fresh and headstrong' and 'of linguistic and intellectual brilliance'. Looking back at his freelance life in the 1980s, Schlögel says, 'I made a good living. To me, it was open to debate whether to remain a freelance writer and scholar or teach at a university.'

Naturally, his first appointment to Konstanz was not without its difficulties, as the then Dean, Dieter Groh, recalls. There were 'the usual reservations concerning new staff from outside academia.' Yet in Konstanz fortune favoured the brave, in this case Schlögel. An application to a Berlin university that he submitted almost at the same time was not as successful. As one of the members of the Berlin selection committee explains, 'The transition from a PhD thesis that was linguistically and conceptually rather dry to the effusive pop-science style favoured in later works was a source of irritation for many of us.' Any traces of irritation, however, had practically disappeared by the time Schlögel was called to Frankfurt/Oder four years later.

The historian was no prodigy. After leaving school he went straight to university but completed his PhD only at 34. Indeed, in the 1970s Schlögel strived to make history himself rather than write about it. By his own admittance (and confirmed by some literary sources) he was a 'Berlin Maoist' who actively engaged in preparing the Proletariat for his historical mission. This was the goal of many intellectually overenthusiastic students at the time, including Bernd Ziesemer, today editor-in-chief of Germany's leading economic newspaper Handelsblatt.

The attempted revolution, of course, failed. Since then Schlögel, also a sociology graduate, no longer sees 'large collectives' (classes, social strata) as historical entities except in connection with major historic shifts, specific circumstances and local settings. Im Raume lesen wir die Zeit ('We perceive time as in space') is the title of Schlögel's 2003 classic methodological work. This perspective is closely connected to the very real developments and changes that have taken place in the former Eastern bloc since the end of the Soviet era, which are regional in character.

With other successful persons there is often curiousity about their so-called formative years. In Schlögel's case, it makes more sense to ask about formative places. These appear highly contradictory: Before Berlin in the 1970s - a seemingly revolutionary environment - there were the Christian boarding schools in Bavaria. For a talented boy willing to escape the intellectual limitations of a farming village in the 50s and 60s, boarding school was practically the only option.

'Each age has its own biographies,' says Schlögel, 'they do not repeat themselves.' In other words, his is not a replicable recipe for success. If anything, his approach may be. Schlögel seeks to discover in science what previously touched him in his personal life, for instance the subject of forced migration and displacement. 'To me (as a child), strangers represented the wide world, a connection to the outside.' More specifically, these included women from the big cities who smoked cigarettes, painted their nails and used lipstick. These novelties before one's very own eyes Schlögel calls 'inspiring', absorbing - experiences that hold someone like him in their grip for quite some time.