Emotional Distance Upheld by Brecht

Berthold Brecht’s deliberate strategy to create an emotional distance between the actors and the audience stands in stark contrast to traditional theatrical techniques aimed at eliciting sympathy and aligns poorly with the principles of theatrical realism. Brecht's distancing effect is achieved through a range of disconcerting elements that disrupt any passive emotional engagement the viewer might have: the self-awareness of the actors, heightened absurdity, deliberate paradoxes, and jarring contradictions. Additionally, Brecht intertwines humor and drama in a way that can be provocative. While these techniques may hold intrinsic value, they serve as a constant reminder that the performance is merely that—a performance. This performance combines various theatrical elements reminiscent of vaudeville, including slapstick, songs, and witty exchanges, all of which create a stark contrast to the harrowing narrative of a destitute family enduring the horrors of one of Central Europe’s most catastrophic wars.

Brecht's epic theater can be interpreted as a response to the German landscape of the 1940s, a period marred by poverty, destruction, tragedy, and relentless propaganda. By the time of the 1948 premiere of *Mother Courage and Her Children* in East Berlin, audiences were likely all too familiar with the grim realities of war, the universal suffering it incurs, and the brutal implications of militant nationalism. Consequently, *Mother Courage* neither patronizes nor preaches to its viewers. Instead, it prioritizes action and serves as a platform for serious reflection.

Emotional Engagement vs. Alienation

However, if Brecht's ambitious alienation techniques fail to evoke sympathy, they provoke critical inquiries. Does Brecht, through both his script and staging directives, genuinely manage to suppress emotional responses to the all-too-familiar and plausible story of a relentless woman losing her children in a European bloodbath? Is the emotional distance from Mother Courage a reflection of her supposed culpability—do we not feel for her because she "deserves" her fate? Or is this conclusion about her complicity only reached through the lens of epic theater? If so, does the fundamental tragedy of a character making poor choices and suffering significant loss not still evoke pity? Despite the distancing effect, is *Mother Courage* not at its core a narrative with a traditional plot structure to which audiences can still relate? Furthermore, could Brecht have applied this framework to more recent atrocities, such as the Holocaust?

It seems essential to the function of *Mother Courage* that its events are set in the distant past. However, the alienation technique aims to transcend emotional responses, and if it proves ineffective in addressing the Holocaust, this suggests certain limitations to its capabilities. Despite her flaws, the raw tragedy and cruel ironies of Mother Courage’s life may indeed be too powerful to be obscured. Even if the alienation effect could leave an audience with blank expressions and dry eyes, contemplating Mother Courage’s situation should naturally evoke strong feelings of sympathy.

The Duality of Mother Courage

In one sense, Mother Courage is sympathetic because she suffers a profound misfortune stemming from what can essentially be seen as a wrong decision or poor speculation. From a self-preservation standpoint, she navigates the danger of avoiding or subverting the war versus the risk of following it and profiting from it. Both choices entail significant risks and potential rewards. The war threatens to devastate Mother Courage’s family, potentially leaving them in greater poverty, while also offering opportunities for profit and improved circumstances. Conversely, avoiding the conflict could offer little chance for survival in a harsh economy, yet would protect the family from the war's immediate dangers.

The play’s resolution suggests that by benefiting from the war and profiting from its corruption and atrocities—both directly and indirectly—Mother Courage becomes complicit in the war's negative consequences. She assumes a share of responsibility for specific wartime events and the continuation of the broader conflict, from which she profits. For instance, she exploits her son Eilif's cruel murder in Scene 2, only to reprimand him for not surrendering. In Scene 8, when peace threatens her business, she expresses relief but is deeply disappointed over a poor speculation: "I'm glad about the peace even though I'm ruined" (84). Following a rebuke from the Chaplain, she retorts, "Remember what one fox said to another that was caught in a trap? 'If you stay there, you're just asking for trouble'" (86), accusing him of hypocrisy while indicating her entrapment in a war for which she refuses to accept responsibility. Yet, by the end of this same scene, she sings about her wagon supplying a war that demands human involvement: "If it's to last, this war needs you!" (94).

Nevertheless, Mother Courage's participation has no real impact on the war's progression. The actions of generals and monarchs like Tilly and Gustavus Adolphus overshadow the violent, drunken, and corrupt lower participants in the war. The political landscape and central religious conflict appear intractable and distant. Despite the Cook and Mother Courage discussing the underlying profiteering and class struggles represented by the war in Scene 3, resignation is the prevailing attitude. They view their decision to engage with the war as purely personal, not as consequential actors in the conflict.

Complicity and Agency

Mother Courage’s switch of allegiance upon capture by Catholic forces further highlights her inconsequentiality. She professes no serious loyalty to either side, acting as a neutral participant willing to align with whichever side serves her interests. She recognizes that "the defeats and victories of the fellows at the top aren't always defeats and victories for the fellows at the bottom" (52), positioning herself at odds with both factions in the war.

Mother Courage describes herself as a prisoner to the Catholics, like "lice in fur" (52), suggesting that despite providing them with a necessary canteen, she feels like a parasite contributing nothing to the war. How complicit could she be in the atrocities committed by either side? In Scene 4, she learns to capitulate; in the next scene, she must choose between her self-interest and helping the wounded peasants. Her haggling over Swiss Cheese’s life is yet another self-inflicted wound driven by conflicting interests aimed at protecting her children while balancing their needs for safety and sustenance. The realization that she has made a mistake in bargaining for Swiss Cheese indicates her flawed judgment based on insufficient information. However, her willingness to bargain signifies her comfort with such dealings, suggesting that she is all too adept at navigating this capitalist environment.

The Cost of Survival

Mother Courage can be seen as a low-tier analogue to the looting soldiers and the social elites driving the conflict, all seeking profit in the chaos of total war. Unlike the kings, she is compelled to labor tirelessly to support her family. Courage is effectively forced into a socio-economic system where shrewdness and selfishness are prerequisites for survival. She believes she has no option to rebel against war or poverty, lamenting: "Too many seek a bed to sleep in: / Each ditch is taken, and each cave / And he who digs a hole to creep in, / Finds he has dug an early grave" (82). In *The Song of the Great Capitulation*, she expresses, "Two children round your neck, and the price of bread and what all!" adding, "They had me just where they wanted me" (68). Her agency is severely limited, particularly due to her gender.

When Kattrin sacrifices herself, she reverses Mother Courage’s calculations. If Courage overvalues her children against her own survival and the lives of others, Kattrin corrects the moral scale. Kattrin's ultimate duty can be interpreted as an absolution of her mother: an act of kindness in the service of peace, while Courage's actions serve war. Despite the weight of these events, Mother Courage remains steadfast in her ways, calling out to the sound of war drums: “Hey! Take me with you!” (111). While she is a victim of her lack of agency, she also suffers from a mentality that prevents her from changing course, even when aware of the surrounding sickness. Although Kattrin stands as a hero, it does not necessarily render her mother villainous. While Mother Courage cannot be exonerated, her story can be understood. Regardless of the function of the play, Courage's life is fundamentally a human tale of struggle and resilience, which naturally elicits sympathy.

Ultimately, whether the alienation effect succeeds in *Mother Courage* may hinge on personal perspective. Those who relate to the situation may find it profoundly sad due to empathy, while others might be stirred by the frightening implications of the narrative, leading to sympathy for Courage and her children based on the selfish fear of facing a similar fate. Does the play incite action? Fifty years after the second staging of *Mother Courage*, East Germany began its slow, uneasy transition to capitalism. The final haunting image of an indomitable Mother Courage pulling her cart, oblivious to her son’s grave, is, in my view, far sadder than any tragic permutations presented by Shakespeare. I am inclined to believe that no technique or convention employed in staging this play—no matter how offensive, absurd, or damning—could overshadow the raw emotion and sympathy evoked by Mother Courage’s plight.

References

• Brecht, Bertolt. *Mother Courage and Her Children*. Grove Press, 1961.
• Willett, John. *Brecht on Theatre: The Development of an Aesthetic*. Hill and Wang, 1964.
• Benjamin, Walter. "The Author as Producer." In *Understanding Brecht*, translated by Anna Bostock, 1973.