In this blog post, we explore how the concept of “world literature” (Weltliteratur), as revealed through a hypothetical interview with Goethe, and the diversity of form and content inherent in ‘Faust’ offer insights into today’s cultural exchange and reader engagement.

Greetings and First Impressions

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Hello, Sir. I am delighted and truly honored to meet you in person. It seems like quite a long journey from the afterlife to this land of Korea, so thank you for coming all this way for the interview. I express my gratitude on behalf of all the readers here. Technically, I should be the one visiting you in the afterlife, but I’m not quite ready to go there just yet.
Goethe_ (laughing) I didn’t go there willingly either. But everything here is truly chaotic, dazzling, and noisy. It stands in stark contrast to the dim, ashen world of the afterlife, where shadowy figures move as if swaying in gloomy silence. Perhaps because I’ve come straight from the stillness of the cemetery into the clamor of life, I feel a bit dizzy. Yet I don’t simply dislike this clamor. In fact, I might even feel a greater sense of joy. After all, all my works have emerged from this very clamor of life.

A Question on the Essence of Literature

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe—you are a leading German author and, alongside Shakespeare, Cervantes, and Hugo, one of the great masters representing Western literature. To you, what is literature, and what significance does it hold?
Goethe—That is a very difficult question. Depending on the era, the place, and the person, various definitions of literature have been proposed—and will continue to be—endlessly. Perhaps the sum of all these perspectives is the definition of literature. However, since this process will continue endlessly, it seems we will have to wait forever for the ultimate answer to the question, “What is literature?” To borrow the language of philosophers, might we say that the “impossibility of an absolute conceptual definition” is the very nature of literature?
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ That seems like a very roundabout and cautious answer!
Goethe_ Yet no matter how diverse and ambiguous the views on literature may be, one fact is certain. Literature—and this is my conviction and hope—must be the shared heritage of all people in the world. No matter what language a literary work is written in, it does not belong exclusively to the speakers of that language. Literature must transcend the level of national or ethnic literature and emerge as world literature. It is precisely from this perspective that I have consistently emphasized “World Literature (Weltliteratur).” The “World Literature” I speak of absolutely does not refer to so-called world-class literature—that is, great works.

The Balance Between World Literature and National Identity

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ If we emphasize the universal nature of literary works, won’t the unique characteristics of a nation and of the author themselves be neglected? Isn’t every literary work an original and unique entity that can never be replicated?
Goethe_ Of course it is. The “world literature” I envision certainly aims at the universal humanity of all humankind, but this does not mean suppressing or eradicating the unique nature of individual nations and authors. It is a somewhat complex issue, but let me explain. My concept of “world literature” has two distinct objectives. The first is mutual exchange. Literature is a form of intellectual culture. Therefore, just like other forms of culture, literature can develop and enrich itself through interaction with different cultures. If a culture isolates itself in an attempt to preserve its own “purity” or unique nature, the result is bound to be very negative.
It’s just like how inbreeding in living organisms accelerates the decline of a species. It’s only natural that the cultures of the indigenous peoples living on isolated South Pacific islands—discovered by 18th-century explorers—remained at a primitive level. Nevertheless, it is truly regrettable that the chauvinistic antics of narrow-minded nationalists—who insist on and cling to the “purity” of their cultural “bloodline”—are rampant everywhere, both then and now.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ I understand your point perfectly. Given that such claims still resonate with many people today, it seems the world has not yet been sufficiently “enlightened.” It is also a major problem that there are forces that stoke these nationalistic sentiments—naive if you will, or ignorant if you prefer—for their own purposes. But how do you think other cultures should be embraced? It’s certainly not a simple matter.
Goethe_ That’s right; it’s not a simple matter. Above all, it is crucial to ensure that blindly following other cultures does not result in the eradication of one’s own unique culture. Blind imitation is just as dangerous a form of acceptance as blind exclusion. We must make other cultures “our own.” In other words, we must accept other elements strictly on the foundation of our own culture, selectively adopting what we lack or do not possess to make our own culture more complete. In this way, our “improved” indigenous culture can, in turn, contribute to the improvement of other cultures. If we have nothing unique to offer that other cultures lack, how can we contribute to their improvement? I believe that cultures can develop by exchanging ideas and influences with one another in this way. This is precisely why I have emphasized that true world literature must be rooted in national literature. One culture must never be allowed to crush another. Otherwise, the world will gradually lose its diversity and head down the path of uniformity. A world where one encounters only the same culture everywhere—the very thought is horrifying.

The Results of Cultural Exchange and Tolerance

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ You’re referring to cultural communication based on mutual exchange, free from cultural isolationism or the eradication of other cultures through cultural aggression.
Goethe_ That’s correct. And through such communication, people also learn to tolerate and respect cultures that are different from their own. This is the second goal of “world literature” as I see it. If we can become tolerant of things different from ourselves, many conflicts will be resolved, and the world will become much more peaceful. Of course, I do not believe that this alone will bring peace to the entire world. However, at the very least, war will become far less brutal, and the victors will not fall into the arrogant presumption of superiority that drives them to destroy the culture of the vanquished entirely.

The Diversity Revealed in “Faust”

Goethe: Of course. In “Faust,” I incorporated countless elements that were not my own and not German. That is why I referred to it as “the work of a collective bearing the name Goethe.” First, from a formal perspective, I employed nearly every form of verse that appeared in European literature, from Greek classical tragedy through the 19th century. Prose also makes up a small part of the play, and the prose poem form was one that the writers of the ‘Sturm und Drang’ movement in my youth frequently employed. The same is true of the content. The “Celestial Overture,” particularly the wager between God and the Devil over Faust’s soul, mimics the structure of the biblical Book of Job. In the “Night” scene of Part 1 of the tragedy, I incorporated Ophelia’s song from Act 4, Scene 5 of Shakespeare’s tragedy ‘Hamlet’. These are merely a few small examples.
I incorporated into ‘Faust’—sometimes directly, sometimes in a modified form—literary images, symbols, allegories, metaphors, archetypal characters, rhetorical devices, motifs, and so on, used by various authors across different eras. Plagiarism, you say? Not at all! As I mentioned earlier, literary works are the common heritage of humanity.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: When diverse and disparate forms and contents are intermingled, a work can become chaotic. How did you overcome this? Wasn’t mediating between different individual elements and achieving harmony and balance among them—thereby forging the work into a unified whole—the very ideal and guiding principle of German Classicism, the literary movement in which you were active? Is there some kind of guiding principle you can think of for bringing together disparate parts into a single whole?
Goethe: Absolutely not. As I have emphasized many times before, there is certainly no single unifying ideology running through my ‘Faust’. I would say that the coexistence of elements that are heterogeneous—whether in form or content—and in many cases contradictory and antithetical to one another, or rather, the conflict and tension between them, constitutes the fundamental structure and framework of my ‘Faust’.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ But won’t that make the work too obscure and confuse readers? What conclusions can readers possibly draw? They’ll be left to their own devices without the author’s guidance!
Goethe_ That is precisely the point. The reader of ‘Faust’—though this may sound a bit presumptuous—must transcend their usual reading habits. When diverse elements are intermingled and structures of contradiction and conflict overlap, it is entirely up to the reader to interpret what the author has not explicitly stated. In other words, my ‘Faust’ is a work that is only half-finished. It is the reader’s responsibility to complete the remaining part. Therefore, every reader can be considered a co-author of my ‘Faust’. The ‘Faust’ completed by readers will be as diverse as the number of readers themselves. It is precisely for this reason that I have said ‘Faust’ will lead people to observe it repeatedly, like an immeasurable and unsolvable problem. Uniformity is the antithesis of my ‘Faust’, both in the structure of the work and in its reception.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Why must it be that way? Do you take pleasure in looking down from above at readers wracking their brains and groaning in frustration?
Goethe_ (laughing) Not at all. To aid understanding, let me first explain the “diversity” I emphasized from a historical perspective. Heterogeneous diversity is a product of modern Europe. Of course, there were diverse elements in medieval Europe as well, but that diversity was superficial. If you delve just a little deeper, you’ll see that Christian doctrine lay at the foundation of it all. In other words, medieval Europe was a unified and homogeneous community governed by an absolute order of one God, one religion, and one truth. The fact that the Christian order was absolute meant that no other system outside of it was tolerated. Within such a community, people led relatively comfortable lives with little conflict. There was no need to wander in search of a truer truth, nor to struggle to distinguish between good and evil. All they had to do was follow the established rules and act only within that framework; answers to everything were already provided. For example, the universe and humanity were God’s creations, and the Earth was the center of the universe—concepts like these.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ That’s right. It was a thoroughly theocentric order. Humans were creatures and servants of God, and thus had almost no autonomous will or freedom of choice.
Goethe_ However, after the Renaissance—and especially with the emergence of Enlightenment critical philosophy in the 18th century—this theocentric order collapsed, giving rise to humanism, an era in which humans proclaimed themselves to be their own masters. The “death of God” brought about the collapse of Christianity’s absolute doctrines and the pan-European order, and Europe lost its communal homogeneity. Where a vast, unified homogeneity crumbles, countless heterogeneous fragments are bound to scatter. Modern Europe has, in a sense, lost the homogeneity of the Middle Ages and gained diversity in its place. In ‘Faust’, I sought to express modern heterogeneous diversity by bringing together forms from different eras and disparate modes of thought. On the one hand, the formal and thematic diversity inherent in my ‘Faust’ is the product of an attempt to transcend national literature and move toward world literature; on the other hand, it is an expression of the “modern” era, which has lost its homogeneity.
Goethe—Moreover, these two cannot be considered in isolation. Just as “world literature” is fundamentally premised on peaceful coexistence with other cultures, the diverse, contradictory, and sometimes hostile ideologies and ideas of the modern era must ultimately strive for coexistence and mutual complementarity. If the “relative” truths that emerged after the destruction of the “absolute” truth of Christianity fail to acknowledge their own relativity, instead elevating themselves to the status of absolutes and attempting to forcibly subjugate other truths, the result will be catastrophic. This inevitably leads to the dictatorship of exclusive and dogmatic ideologies and the dogmatization of ideology. It would be truly tragic if human beings, having barely broken free from slavery to become masters, were to once again blindly follow some ideology and become its slaves. Such signs were already visible—and indeed manifested—at the dawn of the era in which I lived. Witnessing unrestrained behavior that pursues the unlimited in a world that has lost its absoluteness was a deeply distressing experience for me, and the protagonist of my play, Faust, embodies precisely this type of character.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ So that is why ‘Faust’ is a tragedy. In that case, could you give me some specific examples of the conflicting diversities within the work? In my view, the two diametrically opposed characters, Faust and Mephistopheles, seem to be the most representative examples.
Goethe_ One could view it that way. In fact, both characters exemplify archetypes of modern humanity. Let’s start with Faust. Above all, he is a “free man.” Since the established Christian order has collapsed, there is nothing to bind or restrict his consciousness and desires. As the epitome of thoroughgoing humanism, he regards himself as the “master.” As a “master,” he obeys no one’s commands and values only his own free will. The collapse of the traditional order simultaneously signifies that the boundaries of humanity’s prescribed sphere of existence have vanished. Therefore, Faust refuses to acknowledge any limits and constantly seeks to expand his self. He strives to reach the source of truth while simultaneously seeking to satisfy all his instinctual desires. In short, he seeks to achieve everything and harbors a desire to become an omniscient and omnipotent being, like a god. In this process, he accepts no limits or restrictions whatsoever. Since his ultimate goal is something a human can never achieve, he is a man who knows no satisfaction. Unable to rest on any achievement, he remains perpetually hungry, charging toward ever-higher goals. That is why, in his wager with Mephistopheles over his soul, he sets the condition that if he ever becomes satisfied at any moment, ceases his actions, and says, “Stay! You are so beautiful,” then Mephistopheles may take his life.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ One could say he always aspires to something higher and thus lives in hope for the future.
Goethe_ That is correct. If hope is a longing for something in the future that does not yet exist, then Faust’s way of life is the thorough realization of the “principle of hope.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Then the devil Mephistopheles represents the “principle of despair.”
Goethe_ That is correct. Mephistopheles’ nature is one of distrust and skepticism toward everything. In this sense, he can be described as a being who has pushed the critical spirit of the Enlightenment to its extreme. However, when skepticism and distrust reach their limits, the very meaning of existence vanishes. He has adopted as his rule of life the pessimistic conviction—as one philosopher put it—that “truth stripped of its veil can never be truth.” That is why he has a natural talent for exposing hypocritical pretense and ideological falsehoods. This is precisely why he never believes in Faust’s “spiritual” and “pure” love for Gretchen, dismissing it as a mere disguise for bestial desire. In short, he is, in a sense, a “spirit of negation.” It is difficult for this devil to find meaning in anything.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ However, this demon is also a thoroughgoing realist and rationalist.
Goethe_ It’s the same line of thought. Since he does not acknowledge any transcendent or universal order, his world is limited to the metaphysical—that is, the real realm of matter and phenomena. Because he dismisses moral order and values as hypocrisy, he experiences no moral doubts or pangs of conscience. Therefore, his actions are driven strictly by the principles of efficiency and utility, and his rationality is an instrumental rationality that excludes moral reflection on ends and means.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ What is the outcome of this negation? If this is the case, it seems that Mephistopheles’ negation will not lead to any affirmation. Is it possible to conceive of a kind of “dialectic of negation”?

Faust and Nihilism

Goethe_ It is impossible. Since he believes that everything that exists will eventually perish and that nothing can possess lasting value, no action holds any meaning for him. After all, whatever is achieved through action will eventually perish. Therefore, nothing that exists possesses any meaning. The conclusion of this line of thought would be a bottomless sense of nihilism and despair. And despair, as one philosopher put it, is “the sickness unto death.”

Gretchen and the Small-Town Idyll

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Let us return to Faust and hear about the tragic love between him and Gretchen. Wasn’t it Faust’s endless desire for self-realization that prevented him from staying by Gretchen’s side—and thus led to her tragic downfall?
Goethe: That’s right. Gretchen’s world—the petty-bourgeois idyll—must have seemed like a cozy refuge to someone like Faust, who could never settle anywhere and had to endlessly break through boundaries. You might call it an oasis appearing to a weary traveler in the desert. This is precisely why Faust was so drawn to Gretchen.
Goethe: This idyllic world can be likened to a family ruled by a strict yet warm-hearted father—a household that, though not wealthy, is abundant and neatly organized, maintaining strict order centered on the father while remaining harmonious. However, in such a patriarchal society, the authority of the patriarch—that is, the adults who lead this society—is absolute. The reason Gretchen and her mother follow the pastor’s words without the slightest doubt is that the pastor and the church, as the “patriarchs” of this society, possess authority that cannot be defied.
Goethe_ For the authority of the “patriarch” to be absolute in this way, there must be absolute faith in him. Doubt and skepticism are therefore the greatest enemies and destructive forces in this society. That is why the common trait of all patriarchal societies is the simple-minded consciousness of their members. To put it positively, they must consist of members who are as innocent as children incapable of doubt; to put it negatively, they lack critical consciousness—in other words, they have a low level of consciousness. Since these members uncritically follow the patriarchal order, such a society cannot experience conflict. Everything is peaceful, stable, and unchanging. In short, it is a pastoral idyll—and the tranquility of the grave.

Dynamism vs. Stagnation

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: If a society is stable and unchanging, doesn’t that mean it lacks dynamism? Isn’t a society without movement a stagnant society?
Goethe_ That’s right. It is a thoroughly static society. This is precisely what conflicts with Faust’s nature—which endlessly unfolds the will of the self through ceaseless action and the breaking of boundaries. If he were bound by his love for Gretchen, it would be a denial of his own nature.

Helene and Aesthetic Ecstasy

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Then why did the union between Faust and Helene end in catastrophe? In my view, Helene is a symbol of absolute “beauty.” Does the fact that their union was broken mean that the world of beauty symbolized by Helene, too, cannot accommodate Faust’s dynamic nature?
Goethe_ That is correct. The aesthetic union with Helen is, in essence, a suspension of all action. However, its nature differs from Gretchen’s petty-bourgeois idyll. Gretchen’s idyll is, so to speak, a suspension of time—that is, a halt to the development and progression of history.
Goethe_ But aesthetic union is—to borrow a term from psychologists—a form of artistic ecstasy. At the moment of union, everything about their existence is concentrated in their “here” and “now.” In other words, they experience an extremely exalted presence as all the possibilities inherent in their existence unfold fully.
Goethe_ This exalted presence is free from the past. No matter what their past deeds may have been—whether happy or unhappy, moral or sinful—they have no influence whatsoever on their presence in the moment of union. It is also free from the future. Anxiety or fear about the future, as well as expectations or hopes, hold no meaning in this moment. Life in this moment is so full, beautiful, and complete that it is an end in itself, and nothing else matters at all.

The Clash Between Illusion and Reality

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ This aesthetic ecstasy would, then, be a perfect target for criticism by moralists or those with a sense of mission regarding the progress of history. Just as recent avant-garde art theories or aesthetic modernism, which pursued something similar, were accused of being “decadent.” But doesn’t the fact that this absolute presence lies outside the flow of history imply that it exists beyond historical reality? Isn’t it a “fantasy” that escapes reality, rather than “reality” itself?
Goethe_ That is correct. It is possible only in the realm of fantasy, or of “pure art” that is free from all reality. The “Arcadian idyll” where Faust and Helen lived together is solely a product of fantasy. This idyll may be perfect and free, but because it is unreal, it is bound to shatter upon encountering reality.
Goethe_ This is precisely why Oiphorion—the son of Faust and Helen and a symbol of pure art—plummets to his death the moment he attempts to intervene in reality. Therefore, just like Gretchen’s petty-bourgeois idyll, the Arcadian idyll cannot serve as a permanent home for Faust, a man of action. The idyll is the negation of action.

Critique of the Land of Paradise and Utopia

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Let us now return to the story of Faust’s final utopian fantasy. It seems to me that the community Faust seeks to establish in this “land of paradise” is sufficiently worthy to serve as the goal of humanity’s historical development. Is it not possible here for everyone to work “together,” enjoy the fruits of that labor “together,” and live free lives without oppression, exploitation, or class discrimination—lives in which no one is alienated?
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Moreover, this paradise is not a literal “utopia” where everything is simply given; rather, it is by nature a “healthy” life in which utopian perfection must be constantly cultivated, thereby eliminating any risk of succumbing to indulgence or idleness. Didn’t you also emphasize this, Professor? That it is not “the completed,” or “what has already been done,” but “that which is being completed”—that is, “the process of becoming”—that is truly valuable. Then why did you, using various literary devices, render this dream of paradise “suspicious”? For example, Faust’s vision was triggered by the sound of laborers’ pickaxes; he thought the sound signaled workers laboring to build paradise. In reality, it was the sound of them digging his own grave. It is a bitter irony and a cynical satire.
Goethe_ Let me explain the reason. Above all, it’s because I believed that this dream of paradise—that is, this hope for a “future” utopia—must not become an absolute ideal that reigns over “present” human beings. When any ideal or ideology is deified as an absolute goal to be pursued, we must sacrifice everything for it. At first glance, sacrificing the present for the hope of the future might seem noble and worthwhile.
Goethe_ But let’s think about this a little more deeply. No matter how noble an ideal may be, it must ultimately be for the sake of humanity. However, if the realization of an ideal “for the sake of humanity” demands the “sacrifice of humanity,” this is a reversal of the means and the end. During my lifetime, in the midst of the French Revolution, I experienced this reversal all too painfully. In the name of realizing the noble revolutionary ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity, they deployed the guillotine—a horrific instrument of murder.
Goethe: Faust, too, ruthlessly exploits and oppresses the “present-day” workers in order to realize his “future” ideals.
He also brutally murders an elderly couple—who simply refused to sell their home and land—because he deemed them an obstacle to his enterprise. All of this stemmed from his conviction that his ideals were sacred and must be pursued “absolutely.” Had he been able to maintain even a slight critical distance from his own ideals, such blind pursuit could have been avoided.
Goethe: This is precisely why I have viewed Faust’s dream of building an ideal community critically from various perspectives. His plan must be “relativized” as just one of the many ideal goals humanity can have. It must not be “absolutized” as the “sole” goal.

Whose Role Is the Conclusion?

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ So, Professor, you have portrayed Faust’s “supreme moment” as appearing to Mephistopheles as a “trivial and empty moment.”
Goethe_ That’s right. And as I mentioned earlier, it is up to the readers to draw their own conclusion from this tension between the “supreme moment” and the “trivial and empty moment”—or, in other words, between the “blind pursuit of an absolutized ideal” and the “abyss of despair and nihilism.”

Conclusion

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ Thank you very much for taking the time to speak with me. I hope you never lose your bright and cheerful nature, even in the land of darkness.