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Psychiatry, Cinema and Urban Youth in Early Twentieth-Century Germany

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HISTORY
Editor: Elizabeth Lunbeck, PhD
Psychiatry, Cinema, and Urban Youth
in Early-Twentieth-Century Germany
Andreas Killen, PhD
At least since the middle of the nineteenth century, modern Western societies have been repeatedly convulsed by
moral panics concerning the reading and filmgoing habits
of working-class adolescents, whose consumption of popular
novels, films, and comic books has often been seen as a cause
of juvenile delinquency and other forms of maladjustment.
Baudelaire was among the first to note the paradox that
those who most enthusiastically praised the free market in
goods were often those who deplored most strenuously the
free market in ideas. The emergence of the mass media at the
beginning of the twentieth century sharpened the concerns
about popular culture and gave the contradiction noted by
Baudelaire a form that has endured to the present day, culminating in the contemporary debate about the relation between video games and violence. This article, which explores
the role played by psychiatrists in the early-twentiethcentury discourse in Germany about “trash films,” documents a key chapter in the history of this ongoing debate.
On May 12, 1920, less than two years after censorship had
been suspended in Germany, the National Assembly passed
the Reich Motion Picture Law. Its passage gave the Weimar
Republic, the fragile state that governed Germany from 1918
to 1933, the power to deny distribution permits to films
deemed objectionable on moral grounds. As would be made
explicit with the passage in 1926 of the Law to Protect Youth
from Trash and Filthy Writings, censorship efforts during
this period were aimed at shielding German youth from
so-called Schund (trash). War and revolution were widely
perceived as having undermined the moral and social standards of the young, which were further endangered by what
Correspondence: Prof. Andreas Killen, History Department, City
College of New York, CUNY, Convent Ave. at 138th St., New York,
NY 10031. Email: akillen@ccny.cuny.edu
Harv Rev Psychiatry 2006;14:38–43.
c 2006 President and Fellows of Harvard College
DOI: 10.1080/10673220500519672
38
one participant in the debate over Schund referred to as
the “continuous bombardment of detective and adventure
films.”1
If the campaign against trash was frequently conducted
in terms that evoked the wartime experience, the consequences of this “bombardment,” like those of the war, were
seen by many experts as particularly bad for the mental
and nervous constitution. As the interior minister2 wrote
to the Reich Health Office in 1925, popular films, which
worked with “excitement, surprise, and suspense,” excited
adolescents pathologically, particularly those already nervous. This way of framing the problem of Schund—which
found remarkably broad resonance in Weimar society—
echoed a psychiatric discourse whose contribution to the
debate has hitherto been underanalyzed. In this article I
look at the psychiatric thematization of cinematic Schund
and relate it to the broader history of what the scholar
Detlev Peukert3 has called the “social politics of the soul”
(Sozialpolitik der Seele) that raged around youth during the
Weimar period.
The culture war against trash films in Germany had its
roots in the prewar era. Generally associated with material
of morally questionable or depraved subject matter, trash
made up a loosely defined category that included any film
that contained sensationalized depictions of sexuality or
vice. It was particularly what one contemporary sociologist4
called “the extraordinary stimuli of erotic and crime films”
that aroused middle-class outrage and that fanned fears for
the well-being of a film audience that, as this same author
documented, came largely from the lower and lower-middle
classes.
From its inception, the campaign against Schund revolved around an audience identified as uniquely vulnerable to the dangers of modern urban life. This audience was
dominated by working-class adolescents, a group discovered
by social reformers around 1900 and constructed as an “at
risk” population right from the beginning. The problems facing these youth included a catalogue of modern social ills:
the weakening of the family, juvenile delinquency, prostitution, and so on.5,6 The advent of the modern mass media
Harv Rev Psychiatry
Volume 14, Number 1
around 1900, which occurred more or less simultaneously
with the emergence of the so-called youth question, opened
a new front for reformers.7 Like other perceived workingclass vices such as alcoholism, popular cinema became the
site of a struggle over cultural authority.8 By 1910 statistics
suggested that many adolescents spent a shockingly high
percentage of their time in the cinematographs that began
appearing in German cities after 1905.9 There they were
exposed to the stock fare of an industry rapidly expanding to meet the demands of its new audience: short silent
films with rudimentary narratives based on sensationalist scenarios—white slavery, spectacular crimes, or dreadful accidents—that reformers condemned as depraved and
offensive to middle-class standards of taste.
Conservatives generally responded by making demands
for censorship and the closing of theaters. Pedagogues and
clergymen active in the anti-Schund campaign deplored the
cinema both as a public space that encouraged licentious social contacts and as a highly commercialized medium that
trafficked in subject matter injurious to public morality.10
Moreover, they took it for granted that trash films incited
their youthful charges to bad behavior, turning young innocents into delinquents and criminals. To such charges, more
progressive critics responded with the countercharge that
conservatives were attacking not the causes, but the symptoms, of juvenile delinquency. While advocating regulation of
the film industry, reformers frequently also sought to advocate films with a message of moral uplift or with educational
content.
If much of the discourse about the cinema had a decidedly
reactionary, antimodern cast, it could also take a more modulated approach.11 By 1912 a Film Censorship Office had
been created in Berlin, empowered to impose cuts or bans
on films that transgressed accepted standards of decency. At
the same time, through the Reich Health Office, the German
state also began collecting a wide variety of materials documenting both the educational benefits of scientific films and
the perceived health risks associated with commercial cinema. Medical scientists welcomed film as an instrument of
scientific research and public enlightenment, while also expressing concerns about the effects of popular films on the
health of adolescents. They sought to introduce into the public debate (which was often conducted in almost hysterical
tones of moral and aesthetic outrage) a more objective set of
criteria—that is, to frame the problem less as a moral issue
than as a branch of mental hygiene, in which the cinema
itself might conceivably have a role to play.
This medicalization of the discourse about Schund
seems to have struck a chord that reverberated across
the political spectrum. The leading socialist publication
Vorwärts (Forwards),12 for instance, carried a review of one
doctor’s article suggesting that the “excitements” of the popular film scenario, coupled with the rapid succession of the
Killen
39
images, engendered a more “intense viewing experience”
than customary and thus posed a danger to the eye and
nerves. After noting that recent studies had analyzed the
filmic image with great precision, he offered, as his own contribution to this scientific question, the results of an experiment conducted on several viewers that seemed to confirm
these apprehensions. The article concluded with a warning
that parents shield their children from such dangers. Similar concerns were echoed repeatedly in the pages of Vorwärts
and other left-wing publications.13,14 Conservatives attacked
Schund on moral-aesthetic grounds, while socialists characterized Schund as a symptom of capitalist mass culture; yet
both increasingly shared a medicalized discourse about its
effects on youth.
The influence of this discourse is clearly seen in the work
of Albert Hellwig,15 Germany’s leading expert on cinema law.
Hellwig was chiefly concerned with the connection between
filmic representations of vice and the criminal impulses of
audience members. While he shared the conservative view
that such representations incited audiences to criminal behavior, he also recognized that the empirical basis for the
assumed causal connection between Schund and criminality
remained weak: “I regret nothing more,” he lamented, “than
that it remains so extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible, to obtain exact proofs of the bad effects of the criminal
Schundfilm.”16
Posed in this way, the problem to which Hellwig referred
was a scientific, and specifically a psychological, one that
required the analysis of medical experts. It is therefore not
surprising that he relied heavily on medical terminology to
help make the case against Schund, arguing that such films
heightened distractibility and nervousness, leading to anxious dreams and sleeplessness, even hallucinations.17 These
effects were especially likely to occur among adolescents,
who were more susceptible to the “nervous shocks” associated with the trash film. But Hellwig also went further,
arguing that crime films had a “decided effect on juvenile
criminality,”18 a fact that could be deduced from “general
psychological principles.” He claimed that criminal psychologists had conclusively shown that such films clouded the
sense of reality, strengthened antisocial instincts, and glorified crime.
If Schund could not be directly linked to criminal behavior, then it could be adduced as being, at the very least,
a trigger of the antisocial impulses that many proletarian adolescents allegedly harbored within themselves. This
way of framing the problem—in terms of trash’s threat to
the normative socialization of a self already potentially at
risk—reflected the recasting of the debate about Schund in
a medical idiom. The term most often invoked in describing such a conditional link was “psychopathic constitution.”
This diagnosis had figured prominently in psychiatric discourse since the turn of the century, when it was adopted
Harv Rev Psychiatry
40
Killen
by university doctors like Emil Kraepelin of Munich and
Theodor Ziehen, head of the psychiatric clinic at Berlin’s
Charité Hospital, as part of an effort to simplify and streamline the field of psychiatric diagnosis. In much the same
way as the term “degeneration” for an earlier generation
of psychiatrists, it served as a catchall term linking insanity, sexual deviance, and criminality under one rubric. As
defined by Ziehen’s student Helenefriedericke Stelzner19 in
1911, psychopathic constitution was a classification sharply
differentiated from the normal, on the one hand, and the
mentally ill, on the other. Stelzner worked as a school doctor and as an expert witness for Berlin’s juvenile delinquent
court, where her work brought her into contact with many
“at risk” groups. She described these youths, who came from
working-class backgrounds, as inhabitants of the boundary
area between mental health and illness—individuals who,
alongside their socially useful qualities, also carried within
themselves the (partly hereditary) stigma of a predisposition
to crime, vagabondage, and aversion to work. They could become valuable members of society or, without medical intervention, parasites, even dangers to society.20–22
Insofar as it identified its bearer as a potential delinquent
or criminal, the diagnosis of psychopathic constitution became a staple of the anti-Schund campaign. The discursive
coupling of psychopathy and Schund provided legitimacy to
calls for greater intervention. Where pedagogues had initially sought to shelter juveniles, whom they assumed to be
morally pure, from the corrupting influences of the urban
milieu, psychiatrists now introduced a new conception, at
once more modern and more expansive, of the juvenile audience as at risk both from a host of cultural triggers and
from its own (hereditarily programmed) impulses. Robert
Gaupp,23 professor of psychiatry at Tübingen, warned that
the “cruel mistreatment of slaves,” “whippings,” and “persecution of Christians” depicted in some popular films could
arouse sexual perversions in psychopaths; he cited innumerable reports of filmic depictions of vice inducing youth
to commit crimes. Similarly, Stelzner argued that psychopathic children were easily agitated by the cinema and were
stimulated to try to imitate what they saw on screen. Such
adolescents, she continued, needed to be protected against
their own deviant impulses before society found it necessary
to take steps to protect itself by confining them.
These essentially prophylactic aims found broad resonance in the rulings of the Film Censorship Office.
Hellwig15 cited the case of the film Ein Blick in die Zukunft
(A Glimpse into the Future, 1911), which included an imaginary war of the future with an eerily prescient scenario of
an airship bombing a large city before being shot out of the
sky. The censor had prohibited children under seven years
old from attending the film; such scenes would be likely
to cause “extreme mental agitation and serious nervous
disorders” among psychologically abnormal children. In a
January/February 2006
lawsuit brought by the film distributor protesting this ruling, Ziehen submitted an opinion supporting the prohibition,
stating that the aggressive scenes would undoubtedly have
harmful effects on the fantasy life of psychopathic children.
The outbreak of war was greeted by the members of
Germany’s cinema-reform movement as an opportunity
to realize their aims: “May [the war],” wrote one reformer, “purify our public life as a thunderstorm does the
atmosphere.”24 Yet the war did little to justify these hopes,
as the public’s appetite for trash showed no signs of abating.
During the war, moreover, the future depicted in Blick in
die Zukunft became reality; the film’s sensationalistic representation of air warfare, which the censor had described
as an absurdity, became a grim fact of existence. Germans
emerged from the war stricken by a new sense that the production of risk in modern society had overtaken the production of wealth promised by the nineteenth-century gospel of
progress.25 Among other indicators, the war lent currency
to the diagnosis of psychopathic constitution, which psychiatrists depicted as rampant among war neurotics and the
leaders of the postwar revolution.26 Similarly, the high levels of juvenile crime observed during the war were chalked
up to psychopaths.27
At the outset of the Weimar Republic, the cinema became
invested with many of the hopes and anxieties aroused by
the new political dispensation. Medical scientists embraced
the medium’s potential for helping construct a rationally ordered society that would replace the one left in ruins by
the war. They showered the Health Office with information
on a wide variety of educational films, ranging from topics
like alcoholism and accident prevention to the treatment of
soldiers with brain injuries.28–31 These films became part
of a broad program of mental hygiene for the masses, one
that—in the form of the so-called Aufklärungsfilm (enlightenment film)—received considerable sanction from a state
that had finally abandoned its initial suspicion toward the
new medium for an appreciation of the cinema’s unrivaled
power as a tool for mobilizing and directing the collective
energies of the German masses.32
At the same time, experts continued to warn of the dangers of trash and to advocate the passage of a new national
censorship law.33 Amid a general perception that the postwar world was awash in Schund and that the defeated nation
was in the throes of a moral crisis, such calls found a wide
audience.34,35 The inflationary value of the category Schund
meant that even an Aufklärungsfilm, when concerned with
controversial topics like homosexuality or venereal disease,
could be labeled a form of Schund.36 The period immediately
following the war’s end, during which censorship laws were
suspended, ended abruptly with the passage of the Motion
Picture Law in 1920.37
This law strove to reconcile two seemingly incompatible aims: adherence (at least in spirit) to the Weimar
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Volume 14, Number 1
Constitution, which abolished censorship, and the widely
felt need for moral regeneration. The law did so by defining the risks associated with film spectatorship in terms of
effects and not content. If it was determined that a film
would “endanger public order or safety,” “injure religious
sensitivities,” or “have a morally brutalizing or immoral effect,” a distribution permit would be denied. These criteria
for defining a film’s effects could be interpreted in exceedingly broad ways, as was spelled out by Hellwig.38 He characterized as potentially brutalizing any scenes that depicted
“accidents, cruelty to animals, suicide, etc.,”39 and as having
immoral effect any sexual material embarrassing to female
viewers.
Such censorship sought, above all, to prevent the undesirable social and psychological effects associated with
film spectatorship. These effects remained, however, highly
speculative—the more so as increasing importance was attached to the concept of “indirect effect.” This tendency reflected the influence of a specific, highly normative psychological discourse about film reception that tied it to a host of
contemporary concerns, including juvenile crime and mental
illness.40 German psychiatrists wove elaborate variations on
the theme of the cinema’s dangers to the developing mind,
and in so doing tied the campaign against trash to concerns
about specific social groups, especially youth, who were now
more than ever identified as an imperiled national resource
in need of protection. Again, this discourse won wide consent. A 1920 article in the socialist publication Vorwärts
on medical views about the dangers of the cinema cited a
certain Dr. Scharpf,41 according to whom sensationalistic
films often led to hysterical fits among war neurotics, in
some cases actually producing neurosis. The cinema’s “suggestive effect” exercised a powerful hypnotic influence over
its audience: “For adolescent psychopaths,” argued Scharpf,
“the cinema provided a schooling in crime,” while its “coarse,
sensual eroticism” corrupted popular morality by “inciting a
boundless lasciviousness.”
Scharpf ’s warnings were widely echoed in the medical
and popular press. Many conservatives argued that the new
law did not go far enough. A representative of the Catholic
party argued for strengthening it on the grounds that an
“indirect share of the responsibility for the increase in venereal diseases and crime belongs to motion pictures.”5 To allow Schund to be distributed, wrote one provincial official
to the interior minister, was tantamount to permitting “the
systematic cultivation of a generation into criminality.”34,42
Even those experts who exercised caution in connecting film
and crime felt that at the very least, the potential existence of such a connection necessitated stricter regulation
of the industry. Though it might not be possible to establish
a causal nexus, it nevertheless remained possible to weave
a culturally resonant narrative of youth imperiled around
the topos of Schund.
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41
In this charged climate, the Interior Ministry, which oversaw film censorship, fielded constant demands from the
German states to strengthen the Motion Picture Law. Critics enumerated a litany of complaints concerning cinema’s
bad influence on the health and mental development of children of tender age. Such complaints were not without justification, wrote the interior minister to the Health Office
in 1925, citing the views of medical experts that premature filmgoing endangered the health of the nerves.2 The
cinema harmed the unformed sensibilities of youth by giving them, instead of a more exact view of reality, a false
picture. If neurologists warned against showing even educational films to immature audiences, such concerns were
immeasurably heightened with popular films, whose power
over young minds was depicted as near total: “The number of
nervous children nowadays is quite shocking. The filmic experience often follows them into their dreams, exciting them
pathologically, robbing them of their sleep, and making them
oversensitive to all sense impressions.”
The increasingly shrill tenor of the discourse about the
relation between youth and film must be seen in the context of intensifying debate over the rehabilitative potential
of youth welfare. The Reich Youth Welfare Law of 1922,
which proclaimed the child’s right to a good upbringing,
represented a victory for progressives. Yet by lowering the
threshold of intervention in the lives of youth, it also put
more power in the hands of the state and its experts in dealing with those deemed incorrigible. Between 1920 and 1927,
58 homes and clinics for psychopathic children were established in Germany, and claims circulated that there were
over 400,000 psychopaths in state facilities.43,44 If the 1922
law sought to strike a balance between protecting the interest of those at risk and the interest of society in defending
itself from antisocial youth, this balance remained precarious. By the mid-1920s, following a new upsurge of juvenile
crime during the hyperinflation of that period, efforts to rehabilitate delinquents were being abandoned in favor of an
emphasis on segregating youth with inherited mental disorders. Those identified as psychopaths became defined as burdens on the state and stigmatized as incurables. Meanwhile,
zealous child welfare reformers defined ever greater areas
of preventive intervention and monitoring. By 1926, the line
between protecting and policing “at risk” youth had become
increasingly blurred. That year the Law to Protect Youth
from Trash and Filth Writings was passed with the support
of the Catholic party and the right-wing German National
People’s Party, which argued that the lower classes needed
the law to protect them. Advocates of the law rested their
case largely on the supposed correlation between Schund
and criminal behavior.
This tendency toward greater intervention, along with its
justification by the threat of psychopathology, closely mirrored the psychiatrists’ agenda. Constructing the mind of
Harv Rev Psychiatry
42
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the youthful psychopath as that of a potential delinquent or
criminal—and backed by statistics from reformatories—the
psychiatrists helped turn the causal nexus between Schund
and crime from a matter of speculation into a version of reality that far outweighed all arguments to the contrary. In
so doing they both extended the range of potential victims of
Schund and helped enlist broad sectors of Weimar society in
the war against it. Though socialists worried that the 1926
law would be used for political purposes, they appear in other
respects to have substantially accepted the medicalization
and pathologization of the film audience.24,37 Thus, while it
is possible to view the thematization of Schund as a form of
symbolic class war by means of which the German middle
classes sought to control lower-class morality, the archives
tell a somewhat different story. What is striking, instead,
is that concerns about trash seem to have transcended political differences and to have been shared across the ideological spectrum. More than anything else, this consensus
attests to the singular success of the psychiatrists in establishing theirs as the dominant idiom within the debate about
youth—and by implication, German society as whole—being
imperiled by Schund.
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