Trauma as Witnessing in MAUS

Trauma as Witnessing in Art Spiegelman’s Maus

         When considering the relationship between narrative, history, and the Holocaust, it seems that more questions than answers arise. In her excerpt from Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis and History, Shoshana Felman attempts to examine the link between history and narrative. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel states that the term history refers to “the narration of what happened” (qtd. in Felman 262); thus, history can be seen as depending on one’s personal experience or witnessing of an event. In other words, history and narrative are closely related. While questioning history’s objectivity, Louis Mink discusses the need for one to have a historical perspective in order to explain history (qtd. in Felman 262-3). A historical perspective involves knowing an event’s “consequences as well as its antecedents,” which Mink calls the “narrative sequence” (qtd. in Felman 263). Based on this belief, it may be hypothesized that, since narrative sequence and conclusions are dependent on an individual’s interpretation of the antecedents and the outcome, history is capable of being as subjective as narrative.

         Felman proposes that the relationship between history and narrative may be dependent itself upon history, in particular after the Holocaust. Felman questions whether modern literature can “historically bear witness” (263) on the Holocaust, and wonders if contemporary history has altered the link between history and narrative. Even Elie Wiesel, author of a very compelling Holocaust survival story, states that “there is no such thing as literature of the Holocaust” (qtd. in Felman 263). Felman asserts that because of the transformation that one undergoes following a traumatic experience, the event can only speak “through the medium of that crisis” (264). As a result, there can be no witnesses of the Holocaust, because the testimonies of the survivors, or eyewitnesses, are tainted by the trauma they have experienced and consequently by the fallibility of human memory. While I agree with Felman’s idea that the relationship between narrative and history has been changed because of the Holocaust, I must add that narrative can make witnessing possible. Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel Maus demonstrates that, through the impact of the Holocaust on several characters, the individual and collective emotional effects of the Holocaust are pervasive over time and severe in nature. Thus, the lives—or transformation of the lives—of the characters in this historical narrative serve as testaments to the historical event. The purpose of this paper is to first examine Felman’s question of the changes in the link between narrative and history, and secondly, to demonstrate both the progression of trauma over time and the ability of narrative to serve as a witness to the Holocaust on account of this trauma.

         In relation to Mink’s idea of “narrative sequence,” the after-effects of trauma on multiple generations of people may be seen as a “consequence” of the Holocaust, which is necessary to understand in order to develop a historical perspective surrounding the Holocaust (qtd. in Felman 263). If, as Mink affirms, “[t]he significant conclusions . . . are represented by the narrative order itself” (qtd. in Felman 263), it seems an impossibility that conclusions can be fully made when the story, or the effects, are still ongoing. Moreover, this inability to fully connect history to narration reinforces Felman’s belief that that Holocaust has indeed changed the relationship between history and narrative. With Spiegelman’s focus on personal stories, the readers are able to see the consequences through Vladek’s, and therefore Art’s, trauma.

         Felman states that the Nazis created a system in which no one “could step outside of the coercively totalitarian and dehumanizing frame of reference in which the event was taking place, and provide an independent frame of reference through which the event could be observed” (80). Thus, there could be no witnesses, because there were no outside viewers; no one was involved who was not biased in their own participation of the events. (Felman 80-81). Felman also declares that one’s inability to be a witness to their own life “is perhaps the true meaning of annihilation, for when one’s history is abolished, one’s identity ceases to exist as well (82). Because of the harsh brutality and rampant effects of the Holocaust, it is true that the memories of many survivors may be incapable of remembering incidents exactly as they occurred, and that the survivors cannot look at the events in an unbiased way. Because of this, no, narrative cannot be used to look at history in a simple sequential pattern. However, the creation of this immense trauma in contemporary history makes is possible to convey truth about the severity and reality of what did happen. While memory lapses or false memories are sure to happen, it is the collection of personal histories and traumas that creates the overall body of knowledge that is considered history.

         Spiegelman addresses some of these issues of memory in Maus. When Vladek is telling Art about marching through the gates at Auschwitz, Art asks about the orchestra that is said to have played there. However, Vladek asserts that he “remember[s] only marching, not orchestras . . . how could it be there an orchestra?” (Spiegelman 2:54). Art maintains that “it’s very well documented” that an orchestra played at the gates, but still Vladek insists that he “heard only guards shouting” (Spiegelman 2:54). Here we see Spiegelman creating narrative despite history. While he initially includes an illustration of the orchestra in the first frame of page 54, he hides it behind the crowd of marching mice when Vladek states that he has no recollection of the orchestra. Spiegelman is telling his father’s personal story, but also honouring the collective memory of many Holocaust survivors who claim that there was an orchestra at the gates. Victoria A. Elmwood states that Spiegelman is “explain[ing] and validat[ing] both stories to a relatively equal degree” and “creating a space in which both accounts seem valid” (699). I agree with Elmwood’s statement—including the orchestra fully in one frame and hiding it in another allows for the acceptance of personal narrative and history. In response to Felman’s question of whether “contemporary narrative [can] historically bear witness” (263), this example demonstrates that despite Vladek’s false memory, narrative can bear witness to the actual event, because of Spiegelman’s inclusion of what may be considered common knowledge about the Holocaust. This strengthens the idea that the collective memory of many survivors may bear witness and be considered history.

         The scene with the orchestra can also be looked at as a variant of a story—Vladek’s version, Art’s version, and what is considered the historical truth. Barbara Hernstein Smith discusses the idea of versions of narratives. In the case of Maus, the Holocaust can be seen as “the first or basic level,” or the “deep structure,” while the narrative created by Spiegelman is “the narrative discourse itself, where the basic story is actualized, realized, expressed, or manifested in some form” (Hernstein Smith 139). An event such as the Holocaust, which is considered a historical event that has been shaped by a collective of eyewitness reports, is the “basic story” (Hernstein Smith 139). Individually, each survivor’s personal account can be considered a version, which may be “a modified retelling” or “from a particular perspective” (Hernstein Smith 139). In Maus, what the readers see is almost a twice-removed version, because the story is first distorted by Vladek’s trauma and memory, and then filtered through Art’s perspective. But even within Maus as a version representing the Holocaust, the readers see versions of incidents, such as Vladek’s and Art’s differing beliefs surrounding the orchestra. These contradictory beliefs do distance narrative from history, in that the readers of the narrative cannot know to what extent the material that they are reading is true. I would say, in agreement with Felman, that “the mode of operation of [the] mutual claims (from history to narrative and from narrative to history)” is absolutely “subject to history” (Felman 263).

         In addition to versions, the relationship between history and narrative can be looked at in regards to the effects of trauma on one’s memory. While examining these effects, David B. Pillemer finds that the reliability of one’s memory of traumatic experiences is dependent on whether or not they suffered from post traumatic stress disorder following the incident. In the case of Vladek, the readers are unaware of what happened to him following the Holocaust. Pillemer states that “[s]urvivors usually have ready access to vivid memories, and investigators have been able to confirm many of the historical details contained in their accounts” (142). However, those who are “highly symptomatic [of PTSD] at the time of recall may exaggerate the original trauma and the severity of their reaction to it, whereas mentally healthy survivors may show a reverse bias and downplay the severity of the initial insult” (Pillemer 142). So, the issue of Vladek’s memory in Maus in problematic, since his state of mind following his release is unknown and also because much time has passed from the time he was released to the time he tells his story to Art. The effects of trauma on survivors, whether it causes them to overstate or understate their distress, does affect the reliability of that person as a witness; thus, an individual’s narration of the events does change the actual history of the event.

         While Spiegelman’s Maus tells a fascinating narrative of his father’s strength and resourcefulness during the Holocaust, he also tells, in a more discreet way, the story of his personal struggles as the son of a Holocaust survivor. Through other characters, but specifically through Art, the readers can see the ongoing repercussions of the effectual trauma experienced by Holocaust survivors. Within the first few pages of Maus, two things are readily apparent. First, that Vladek’s personality has been largely shaped by his experience as a Holocaust survivor; and second, that this transformation is affecting the dynamics of his and Artie’s relationship. While Vladek does ask the young Artie why he is crying, he also immediately insists that Artie “hold better on the wood” (Spiegelman 1:6) in order to help his father to saw a piece of wood; Vladek does not give Artie his full and immediate attention. Moreover, it is not the fact that Artie is left behind by his friends that shocks Vladek, but the fact that Artie considers these boys his friends in the first place. Instead of comforting his anguished son, Vladek turns the conversation towards himself, outdoing Artie’s concern by comparing it to his own experience of being locked with others “together in a room with no food for a week” (Spiegelman 1:6). Because of Vladek’s trauma, his son’s experience with his friends seems minor, and understandably so. However, Vladek’s continuous belittling of Art’s problems is a clear effect of Vladek’s trauma, which in turn affects Art in a way that causes him to create his own trauma.

         Elmwood describes Art’s constructed trauma as “secondary witnessing,” which refers to the “psychological difficulties that result for the second generation [of Holocaust survivors] from the stresses of realities that they have only experienced indirectly” (696). In this way, Art’s secondary witnessing can be seen as a testament to the Holocaust. In a study on secondary witnessing conducted by Felman, the effects of watching first-person Holocaust testimonials were observed (qtd. in Elmwood 693). It was found that these students “experienced shock, displayed hyperbolic speech patterns . . . and felt distinct orientation as a result of watching these testimonials” (Elmwood 693), which demonstrates the seriousness of second-hand witnessing.

         Art’s trauma is extended to the pain he feels as a result of the suicide of his mother, Anja. Art’s guilt is explored in “Prisoner on the Hell Planet,” wherein he addresses the incident for the first and only time in Maus. Though the readers do not get to hear Anja’s personal story, it can be assumed that her suicide is largely a result of trauma and pain related to the Holocaust. What Art feels following his mother’s death is guilt, which is depicted by the striped prison jumpsuit that he wears throughout “Prisoner on the Hell Planet.” Art also states outright that “the guilt was overwhelming,” (Spiegelman 1:102), and that many family friends thought that Anja’s suicide was largely his fault (1:103). Elmwood asserts that “Spiegelman chooses not to recreate his mother outside of Vladek’s narrative, with the exception of ‘Prisoner on the Hell Planet,’ because his memory of her is disabled by the trauma of her suicide” (708). If this is the case, then the trauma that Art is feeling as a result of his mother’s death is not similar to the trauma of secondary witnessing that he experiences with his father. Rather, it is his own, personal and traumatic consequence of the Holocaust. Again, Spiegelman’s narrative proves to bear witness on the widespread impact of the Holocaust, and also demonstrates the changes that trauma inflicts upon the link between history and narrative.

         In Maus, the complex relationship between Vladek and Mala also allows for readers to understand the consequences of the Holocaust as they progress over time. It seems that Vladek never stops missing Anja, and frequently compares Mala to Anja. When frustrated with Mala, Vladek tells Art that “if Anja could be alive now, it would be everything different with [him],” and that “Mala makes [him] crazy” (Spiegelman 1:67). Vladek’s sorrow over the loss of Anja, as well as his complaints about Mala’s apparent greed and lack of care for him, allow for the readers to feel sympathetic towards Vladek. However, those feelings are readily changed and complicated when Mala shares her side of the story. She also states that “[Vladek] drives [her] crazy,” and that “he’s more attached to things than to people” (Spiegelman 1:93). The readers become aware of Vladek’s unfairness to Mala through the means of his need for a highly organized and immaculate home and his control over her spending. Despite the fact that both Mala and Vladek are aged Holocaust survivors, the trauma that they have experienced is still ongoing—it affects them in a way that contributes to each others’ pain.

         Through Spiegelman’s historically based graphic narrative Maus, readers are able to comprehend a broad spectrum of issues that have risen following the Holocaust. This mass genocide left survivors who were highly traumatized following the event, and though much time has passed, this trauma carries on and continues to affect other people—whether they were directly involved in the events or affected by the means of secondary witnessing. Maus reveals the ways in which Art is affected by his father’s trauma, as well as his mother’s. In the case of Anja’s suicide, it becomes apparent that firsthand trauma can still be created twenty-three years after the end of the Holocaust. Additionally, pain and trauma is still evident in elderly people who have long since been freed from captivity. For these reasons, history and narrative can no longer be considered contiguous. Additionally, the impact of trauma as demonstrated through several characters in Maus proves to be a testimony to the Holocaust. Narrative bears witness on the event by revealing these effects to the readers. While their lives have been transformed, it is this transformation that proves the impact to be significant, and this impact which speaks to the truth of the event.

Works Cited

Elmwood, Victoria A. “’Happy, Happy Ever After’: The Transformation of Trauma Between the Generations in Art Spiegelman’s Maus: A Survivor’s Tale.” Biography: An Interdisciplinary Quarterly 27 (2004): 691-720.

Felman, Shoshana. “Testimony: Crises of Witnessing in Literature, Psychoanalysis, and History.” The Narrative Reader. Ed. Martin McQuillan. New York: Routledge, 2000. 262-265.

Felman, Shoshana and Dori Laub.  Class handout (Dr. Tracy Kulba, English 219).  March 30,
2010. University of Alberta.

Hernstein Smith, Barbara. “Narrative Versions, Narrative Theories.” The Narrative Reader. Ed. Martin McQuillan. New York: Routledge, 2000. 138-144.

Pillemer, David B. “Can the Psychology of Memory Enrich Historical Analysis of Trauma?” History & Memory 16 (2004): 140-154.

Spiegelman, Art. Maus: A Survivor’s Tale. 2 vols. New York: Pantheon Books, 1986.