„In times of betrayal / the landscapes are beautiful.“

Two lines by Heiner Müller, read in spring 2025

Fortepan / Konok Tamás id

Among the sentences that, once read, never left my head, are these two lines from a poem written by the East German playwright Heiner Müller in 1958:

“In der Zeit des Verrats / Sind die Landschaften schön.“

“In times of betrayal / the landscapes are beautiful.“

Philologists read them as a kernel of Müller's late work, which addresses the bloody failure of revolutions set against the enduring allure of utopias. It’s open to many interpretations: a secret police informant delighting in the splendor of spring, a torturer who enjoys classical music. Over the years, I’ve stopped trying to interpret Müller’s verses correctly. Like any good poem, it touches me on an emotional level that transcends the literal meaning. I carry it with me like a cyanide capsule, something to fall back on in an emergency. Something enduring, because it harbors no illusions.

“In times of betrayal / the landscapes are beautiful.“

A few days ago, Müller’s lines crossed my mind again. The leading power of the Western world is betraying its ideals while the spring blossoms couldn't be more magnificent. I was strolling down Berlin’s pre-summer Kurfürstendamm, observing the carefree passersby, their small, harmless vanities. A boulevard of the spared – for now. The music I was listening to (WOLFRAM: Roshi) made the whole scene seem to unfold in slow motion, like a film using this technique to foreshadow an ominous turn of events.

“In times of betrayal / the landscapes are beautiful.“

Is it pathetic that I, blessed with lifelong privilege, worry about loss just because the protecting power is no longer willing to do the dirty work, and the global tides are turning against me and my tribe? Maybe. But this isn't about me or some policy I don't like; it's about abandoning shared convictions, a social contract with freedom at its core, allowing for a life without fear, a generous, lighthearted existence.

“In times of betrayal / the landscapes are beautiful.“

Are the landscapes beautiful ONLY in times of betrayal? Especially beautiful then, because nothing else is? Perversely beautiful? Is it in the moment of impending loss that we become aware of their fragile beauty, a solace previously taken all too much for granted?

And what makes the landscapes beautiful? Do they convey something about a more perfect world? Is it because they are untouched by humanity?

“In times of betrayal / the landscapes are beautiful.“

It’s outrageous that those who betray our fundamental values can enjoy the beauty of landscapes, too. Müller's verses confront this intolerability. There's no way I would have remembered his sentences if he'd resolved that dissonance.