Furtwängler, Part III, 2026 

This Week in Classical Music: February 1, 2026.  Furtwängler, Part III.  This is our third entry on Wilhelm Furtwängler, a great German conductor of the first half of the 20^th century. In the first two, we talked about Furtwängler’s career up to 1933 and Germany’s cultural milieu under the Nazis (here and here).  When the Nazis came to power in January of 1933, Furtwängler was the music director of the Berlin Philharmonic, Germany’s most prestigious music institution.  Furtwängler despised Hitler, which in part reflected their different class statuses: Furtwängler was from the professorial upper-middle class, while Hitler came from a poor and poorly educated Austrian family.  And while Furtwängler was a conservative, a German nationalist (especially in musical matters), and clearly not a philosemite, he strongly opposed the antisemitic policies of the Nazi state.  Furtwängler was in a difficult position; some opponents of the regime, like Thomas Mann, advised him to leave Germany, but Furtwängler, rightly or wrongly, felt that by staying, he upheld German music and culture.  He regretted this decision later.  He also wanted to protect the Jewish musicians of his orchestra, of which there were many.  And he did: he helped several prominent Jewish members of the Berlin Philharmonic and scores of other Jewish musicians and composers emigrate.  He intervened on behalf of many, not just musicians, when doing so was dangerous even for him (Goebbels directly warned him to stop).  There were other outward signs of his opposition to the regime: for example, not a single time did Furtwängler offer the Nazi salute, even when meeting Hitler in person, while that was how Karl Böhm started all his concerts. 

But Furtwängler had to walk a fine line, realizing that if, on occasion, he had to act against the wishes of the regime, he would have to cooperate with it at other times.   As we mentioned earlier, the top Nazi leaders were intimately involved in the music scene and regularly attended his concerts.  Furtwängler had to deal directly with both Hitler, the supreme leader (Führer) of Germany, and Goebbels, who was responsible for cultural life, at least as far as the Berlin Philharmonic was concerned (Rosenberg shared some responsibilities).  Furtwängler was the favorite of Hitler and Goebbels (Göring preferred the young Karajan).  Furtwängler’s relationship with Hitler was volatile; on several occasions, Hitler forbade Furtwängler from performing, only to rescind the ban months later.  And it was on Hitler’s orders that during the war, Furtwängler directed the Bayreuth Festival, the Führer’s favorite musical institution. 

Furtwängler tried to avoid playing special concerts on Hitler’s birthdays, but on at least one occasion, he couldn’t escape it.  He refused to display swastikas in the Philharmonic Hall, but couldn’t control it in other places.  When, following the demands of Nazi leaders, the Berlin Philharmonic performed in a factory in a concert that was supposed to raise the morale of the German people, the place was adorned with the symbols of the regime.  Some of these concerts were caught on newsreels.   

In 1933, when Goebbels established the Reichsmusikkammer that controlled much of the musical activity in the country, Furtwängler became the vice-president (Richard Strauss was the President).  He resigned a year later, during the “Hindemith Case,” when he wrote an article in defense of the composer and conducted several of his pieces; Hitler hated Hindemith’s music and removed Furtwängler from the Berlin Philharmonic.  The situation was resolved months later when Goebbels forced Furtwängler to declare that his statements about Hindemith were artistic and not political, and that Hitler was in charge of the cultural policy, which stated the obvious.  Goebbels made a public statement on Furtwängler’s behalf, who was then allowed to rejoin the Philharmonic.  

But more important than anything was Furtwängler’s mere presence in Germany, which seemed to legitimize Nazism.  Parallels with today are inescapable, even if the scale of evil is incomparable: Putin needs Gergiev and Netrebko; Hitler needed Furtwängler and Schwarzkopf (on the other hand, Gergiev is actively pro-Putin).  

Furtwängler knew several people involved in the 1944 attempt to assassinate Hitler and was close to being arrested when he fled to Switzerland in January of 1945.  After the war, prominent Germans underwent the denazification trials; Furtwängler’s took place in 1946.  We’ll return to that next week.  Here’s Furtwängler conducting the Berlin Philharmonic in Beethoven’s Symphony no. 4.  The recording was made live on June 30^th of 1943 in Alte Philharmonie Berlin; the hall was destroyed in an Allied bombing several months later. 

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Wilhelm Furtwängler, Part II, 2026

This Week in Classical Music: January 26, 2026.  Furtwängler, Part II.  Last week, we wrote about Wilhelm Furtwängler, a great German conductor of the first half of the 20^th century. We’ll continue here.  As we mentioned, by 1933, when the Nazis came to power, Furtwängler was acknowledged as the leading German conductor, even though his competition was incredibly strong: Otto Klemperer, Bruno Walter, Hans Knappertsbusch, Erich Kleiber, Karl Böhm, George Szell, Eugen Jochum, and, eventually, Herbert von Karajan.  And then there was Richard Strauss, acknowledged as the greatest German composer of the era; he was also a conductor, but belonged to a different category. 

Klemperer, Szell, and Walter were Jewish.  Klemperer emigrated to the US early in 1933; Szell also left Germany in 1933: he worked in Europe till 1939, and as the war broke out, he moved to the US.  Walter, the oldest in the group, Mahler’s assistant and friend, was banned from Germany, worked in Austria till the Anschluss, and then also moved to the US.  Of those who stayed in Germany, two were supporters of the Nazi regime, and one was a member of the Nazi party.  The supporters were Knappertsbusch and Böhm, who started every concert with a Hitler salute; the Nazi party member was Karajan (he joined the party not once but twice, but that’s for another entry). 

Furtwängler was different.  Coming from an upper-middle-class family, he was a nationalist, a firm believer in the superiority of German culture, especially German music, and, rather likely, as many of his class, a casual antisemite.  But he despised Hitler, in his eyes an uncultured upstart, “hissing street peddler,” as he called him, in private, of course.  And he abhorred the antisemitic policies of the Nazi regime.  These policies affected him directly, as many musicians of “his” Berlin Philharmonic were Jewish. 

The attitudes and cultural policies of the Nazi leaders were far from uniform.  Many of the regime leaders, including Hitler himself, loved music, thought it important, and, regarding key figures, often made personnel decisions themselves.  At the same time, heads of different fiefs had their own favorites.  Goebbels, as the Reich Minister of Propaganda, was a key person in setting cultural policies, while Alfred Rosenberg, who led the Militant League for German Culture and was probably the most virulent antisemite of them all, vied for the same role and, for a while, was very influential.  Both had their own favorites.  Other key leaders were also involved: Hermann Göring, in his role as Prime Minister of Prussia, was in charge of the Berlin State Opera, as Berlin was the capital of Prussia, while Goebbels had to settle for the Deutsche Oper, a far less prestigious theater.  Hitler himself was enamored with the music of Richard Wagner, and his favorite cultural institution was the Bayreuth Festival, where the theater, the Festspielhaus, was designed by Wagner himself, and where his operas were staged.  

In this rather chaotic environment, if one was top in his field (whether a composer, an artist, or a poet) and was a supporter of the regime, he (and sometimes she, as was the case with pianist Elly Ney) was pretty much guaranteed backing and assistance from the state.  There were exceptions: Hans Knappertsbusch, an ultra-nationalist, was personally disliked by Hitler, and his career went nowhere.  If one was exceptionally good but not an active supporter of the regime, one could still have a big career, especially if the artist was favored by a leader; Furtwängler is a prime example.  An ardent but talentless Nazi wouldn’t get any support.  And being Jewish made it hell.   

Furtwängler occupied a very unique position: both Hitler and Goebbels valued him, even though they knew that he wasn’t a follower, and acknowledged him as the greatest German conductor.  Furtwängler was in charge of Germany’s most important musical institution, the Berlin Philharmonic, and, as the Nazi leaders saw it, bestowed prestige on their regime. 

We’ll finish our take on Furtwängler next week; in the meantime, here’s Bruckner’s Symphony No. 4 in E-flat major, "Romantic." In this live 1951 recording, Wilhelm Furtwängler conducts the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. 

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