71. On the Problem of the Journalist and Critic
On the occasion of the death of Emil Schiff on January 23, 1899
A personality of great significance for the present was taken from us by death a few days ago. Emil Schiff, who died on January 23, was not a creative artist or scholar, nor a productive nature. He did not fertilize any area of intellectual life with new ideas. Everything he wrote was mere reporting; most of it was pure daily fiction. He was a journalist. But when one says this about Emil Schiff, one must remember Goethe's words: Consider the what, consider the how. He was like an embodied protest against contemporary journalism. What would journalism be like if we had many like him! A generally prevailing view of the present cannot separate the concept of the journalist from that of superficiality. Who would deny this view a certain justification? How was Emil Schiff, on the other hand! Every feuilleton he wrote reeked of thoroughness. Many a scholar who writes about a remote topic that is easy to master because of its one-sidedness could take this or that newspaper article by Schiff as a model.
The journalist writes for the day. Whoever does this must understand the day. But the day, the "today" is the result of all human cultural work. And in the smallest daily phenomenon, things can come to light that can only be judged on the broadest basis of a very general education. Imagine a journalist who wants to write in a dignified manner on the occasion of Helmholtz's, du Bois-Reymond's or Treitschke's death! It is certainly less difficult to write about the rodent brain for the most learned journal.
It is said that in our time a certain versatility cannot be combined with thoroughness. The richness of what we need to know in individual fields today if we want to be "thorough" cannot be combined with the universal mastery of the intellectual content of our time. If this were true, it would also be the view that the writer of the day must be superficial. Emil Schiff is living proof to the contrary of this assertion. How did he become this counter-evidence?
You only need to put a few facts together to answer this question. Emil Schiff studied law from the age of nineteen; then he became a journalist. In his twenty-ninth year, he began studying higher mathematics and analytical mechanics, and in his thirty-second year, medicine. In his thirty-seventh he was able to write a doctoral dissertation on "Cabanis", one of the most versatile people of the last century. Schiff's friends tell him that in the last days of his life he occupied himself with English and Roman history, and that Cervantes was to be seen at the bedside of the dying man. So it would not be a wrong judgment to say that the indefatigable man still incorporated much into the broad scope of his knowledge that cannot be documented.
It would certainly be incorrect to claim that Schiff only endeavored so diligently to develop his knowledge in all directions in order to become a perfect journalist. For him, an all-round education was a personal necessity. Not knowing something seemed to unsettle his universal mind. But it is precisely such people who belong in journalism. Nothing is too good for this profession. And even if one has to say that a person with such a thirst for knowledge should have become the ideal of a scholar, one should not regret that he became a journalist. Because a large part of our educated world merely appropriates the daily literature, it needs personalities such as Emil Schiff was.
Only through characters of his kind is it possible to eliminate the much-discussed damage to journalism. Human knowledge forms a self-contained whole. One can at best be a specialist and dispense with general education. One must then compile purely factual information about Byron's influence on German literature; or report what one has seen with one's eyes about the reproduction of mosses. But it is impossible to report on a political phenomenon or a scientific discovery to one's contemporaries if one does not know how to integrate it into the entire cultural fabric of the present on the basis of a comprehensive education. Most of our journalists are unable to do this. Unfortunately, the lack of such an ability is also noticed far too little. Much more fortunate than the Schiffs are those who know how to display a vain erudition in a paradoxical way. The journalist can be as one-sided, indeed as ignorant as possible, if only he is "amusing". Yes, amusing! You can't really disagree with that. But it just depends for whom amusing. For those who have a serious need to participate in the cultural life of the present, or for those who want to fill the time left over from their professional activities with meaningless jokes. Today, the pamphleteer is regarded more as a knowledgeable, discerning reporter. Article writers who have picked up a few phrases from the agrarians' catechism and know how to dress them up with a few stylistic flourishes from a superficial reading of Nietzsche are held in the highest esteem. The one-sided, superficial and paradoxical dominate the writers of the day. Emil Schiff was the opposite of all this. He was an objective journalist. He had the conscience so necessary to the reporter. And he was able to fulfill what this conscience dictated to him, because he worked incessantly on perfecting his ability to judge.
One can be of the opinion that no one should write as a playwright about a play who does not know at least the basics of Darwinism, and that no one should write about Prince Bismarck who does not understand the essentials of sociology. Emil Schiff fulfilled such strict conditions. He combined the precision of a scholar with the wide-ranging interests of a newspaper writer. The mere phrase was completely alien to him.
It will probably not be easy for productive natures to fulfill the journalistic profession as perfectly as Schiff did. They will be too preoccupied with training their own to appropriate the foreign to such an extensive extent. Schiff was able to report on others and other things in such a unique way because his own never bothered him.
All talk of reform within certain living and cultural conditions is worthless if one does not recognize that such reform must be based on perfect human selection. We know today that man cannot be developed against his nature. Those who speak of education and believe that there are general principles according to which human nature can be molded understand nothing of modern scientific achievements. We can do nothing more than bring out the natural endowments in a person. And we must create conditions under which those people who are particularly suited to any sphere of life can also place themselves in it. An occupational class will be best provided for when the natural conditions are such as to lead into it those people who, according to their nature, are best suited to it.
In order to create such conditions, however, there must be recognition and appreciation of the personalities who possess such suitability. The requirements placed on certain professions are based on this recognition and appreciation. And these requirements correspond exactly to what is called demand in the field of economics. Supply will always be based on this demand. If the readers of our newspapers ask for chatterboxes, they will be offered Kerrs; if they ask for well-educated, conscientious writers, they will be offered Schiffs. This is an iron law in the intellectual development of mankind. Therefore, such exemplary, unique personalities as Emil Schiff was must not be carelessly passed by.
Every readership has the journalists it deserves. Emil Schiff was only intended for a select group. That's not exactly flattering for our time, because this man was basically ignored. In many circles, his articles were probably no more appreciated than those of a random typesetter with a scant knowledge of literary history. Few people during his lifetime knew the value of this man.