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Justin Chen Der Prozess eines Berichtes In the tradition of Die Verwandlung and Forschungen eines Hundes, the main character of Kafka’s Ein Bericht für eine Akademie is an animal with human qualities—or perhaps a human-like spirit trapped within a set of animal features—or perhaps some combination of the two. This basic ambiguity, so strikingly evident in many of Kafka’s texts, results in a clash of ontologies that forces the reader to examine the very nature of humanity. In Die Verwandlung, Gregor’s transformation into an “ungeheurers Ungeziefer” does not occur overnight, contrary to the story’s startling first line. Instead, he grows into this new form throughout the course of the story and is ultimately rejected by his family because of it. Similarly, although the ape narrator of Ein Bericht für eine Akademie undergoes a miraculous transformation, the change does not occur overnight, but rather throughout the entire course of the story. The way in which the ape’s journey to selfhood and discovery is presented to the reader demonstrates many of the literary elements and devices that belong eminently to the Kafkaesque. The analogy between Die Verwandlung and Ein Bericht für eine Akademie is an instructive one, even beyond the similarity of their hybrid human-animal protagonists, because both stories also open with a catastrophic event that essentially galvanizes the text into existence. In the case of Die Verwandlung, of course, that event is the unexplained—and indeed, inexplicable—metamorphosis itself. In Gogol’s The Nose, a similarly mysterious and catastrophic event provides the initial impetus for the story, with a nose unexpectedly appearing in Ivan Yakovlevich’s morning loaf. While the opening of Ein Bericht für eine Akademie is not driven by a similarly fantastic occurrence, it does describe a catastrophic event in the life of the ape Rotpeter—in this case, the appearance of “die Jagdexpedition der Firma Hagenbeck” (Kafka 148). It is the ape’s brush with humankind in the form of animal poachers that catalyzes the events of the narrative. Yet as we learn from stories such as Der Prozess and Die Verwandlung, the Kafkaesque is not defined by events or a linear narrative structure, but rather by a process of coming to terms with an alternate ontology. In Der Prozess, K. must navigate between the familiar world of his office, where he is supremely confident in his own abilities, and the unfamiliar world of the Court, where he suddenly becomes completely defenseless simply because of the unknown rules of this vastly different paradigm. The story of Der Prozess itself, however, is not a sequence of events in which K. comes to understand the strange realm into which he has suddenly been inserted. Rather, it is an examination of K.’s various encounters with individual elements or representatives of the Court, with each episode being essentially interchangeable with the next. To generalize, the course of the story is not strictly linear, but instead presents a series of roughly equivalent events in succession. Similarly, Ein Bericht für eine Akademie primarily focuses on describing the ape’s acceptance of human characteristics rather than following a traditional narrative pathway. After the initial catastrophic event that causes the ape to be imprisoned, the reader observes his decision—conscious or not—to take on human characteristics and suppress his more bestial nature. The journey that he makes presents the reader with an interesting look at those areas in which the animal and human ontologies overlap, as well as certain areas in which animal nature almost seems superior in some ways. For instance, Kafka primarily characterizes the humans in the story by their ability to spit, smoke, and drink, activities that the ape mimics most assiduously, even forcing himself to drink the Schnapps, whose odor he cannot stand. Rotpeter also reveals, “Es war so leicht, die Leute nachzuahmen” (Kafka 152). The ironic inversion of the human-animal hierarchy is further strengthened when the ape says of his spitting tutorials, “der Unterschied war nur, dass ich mein Gesicht nachher reinleckte, sie ihres nicht“ (152). In this case, the ape seems almost more “civilized” than his human counterparts. Rotpeter explicitly points out the similarity between apes and humans when he informs the supposed readers of his report, “Ihr Affentum, meine Herren, soferne Sie etwas Derartiges hinter sich haben, kann Ihnen nicht ferner sein als mir das meine. An der Ferse aber kitzelt es jeden, der hier auf Erden geht: den kleinen Schimpansen wie den großen Achilles” (Kafka 148). This passage directs the reader to wonder how much evolutionary or cultural distance really separates humans from the lower primates, especially given the relative ease with which Rotpeter is able to learn to mimic his captors’ various vices. Rotpeter’s description of the breeze that “kitzelt” both “den kleinen Schimpansen wie den großen Achilles” suggests that the separation is not as great as one might otherwise suppose or indeed prefer. The journey upon which Rotpeter embarks upon which ties him to the protagonists of the other Kafkaesque stories mentioned above can be interpreted in several different ways. One possible explanation is that Rotpeter simply discovers that he admires humans and wants to model himself after them, resulting in a journey of ever more exact imitation. Such a conclusion seems to be borne out by his statement, “wohler und eingeschlossener fühlte ich mich in der Menschenwelt” (Kafka 147-8). Furthermore, Rotpeter feels a strong connection with his shipmates, as evidenced by the following description of the sailor who becomes his companion: “Er war mir nicht böse, er sah ein, daß wir auf der gleichen Seite gegen die Affennatur kämpften und daß ich den schwereren Teil hatte” (Kafka 125). This quote equates apes and humans in terms of their common ancestry, and suggests that humans are trying to distance themselves from their own „äffisches Vorleben“ just as much as the story’s ape-narrator himself is. According to this schema, Rotpeter’s escape from the cage is not just motivated by a desire for physical freedom, but more importantly, for a sort of behavioral imitation of humanity that will separate him from his primate ancestry and allow him to escape the bonds of evolutionary history. Another way to view the story as a journey is to assume that Rotpeter has developed a great disgust for his former life as an ape and that he attempts, through the diligent application of studied mimicry, to distance himself from that aspect of himself as much as possible. At the beginning of the story, he refers rather dismissively to his “äffisches Vorleben,” suggesting an aversion to speaking about his former state. Furthermore, there is the issue of the “rote Narbe, die mir den widerlichen, ganz und gar unzutreffenden, förmlich von einem Affen erfundenen Namen Rotpeter eingetragen hat” (Kafka 148). The ape’s dislike of this name and its attendant connotations of ape-hood seems to suggest a desire to escape his less “civilized“ peers. And finally, the story ends with his discussion of the “kleine halbdressierte Schimpansin“, whose “Irrsinn des verwirrten dressierten Tieres im Blick“ he finds that he cannot bear to witness (Kafka 154). Rotpeter’s relationship with this unfortunate creature is especially revealing of the dual impulses that are clearly still raging within him. While the chimpanzee fulfills his physical needs, he recognizes that she very much embodies the bestiality that he had hoped to escape. Thus, Rotpeter’s insistent desire to “escape” transcends a simple need to emerge from physical confinement aboard the ship, and indeed seems tied to a much more fundamental desire to find a way out of his own animal nature. Still another possibility—and the one that I find most interesting and consistent with the notion of the Kafkaesque—is that the ape’s journey simply reflects a necessary and inevitable set of reactions to the catastrophic event with which his story begins. Indeed, the story is imbued throughout with a strong sense of predetermination, as if each step of the ape’s life needed to follow from the last—almost like the whimsically theoretical cybernetics scenario described in Calvino’s How Much Shall We Bet? Describing his plight when he first found himself imprisoned in the cage, Rotpeter writes, “Ich hatte keinen Ausweg, mußte mir ihn aber verschaffen, denn ohne ihn konnte ich nicht leben” (Kafka 150). This simple observation, with its sense of logically forced action, very much seems to set the tone for the rest of the story, as Rotpeter makes decision after decision based solely on what he deems common sense. In reaction to his initial imprisonment on board the ship, Rotpeter concludes reasonably, “Affen gehören bei Hagenbeck an die Kistenwand—nun, so hörte ich auf, Affe zu sein” (Kafka 150). Further evidence of the absolute necessity of Rotpeter’s chosen escape route can be found in is his statement, “Ich wiederhole: es verlockte mich nicht, die Menschen nachzuahmen; ich ahmte nach, weil ich einen Ausweg suchte, aus keinem anderen Grund” (Kafka 153). This declaration in a sense invalidates the first possibility discussed above, that Rotpeter possesses some sort of inherent attraction for the human species and consciously patterns himself after his shipmates because of it, since it suggests that the imitation was merely a means of escape, not an ends in itself. Indeed, during his discussion of human freedom as exemplified by trapeze-acrobats in the circus, Rotpeter expresses a degree of condescension toward his human counterparts. “Auch das ist Menschenfreiheit,” he thinks to himself—“Selbstherrliche Bewegung” (Kafka 150). He goes on to state, “Kein Bau würde standhalten vor dem Gelächter des Affentums bei diesem Anblick” (Kafka 150). Clearly, then, the ape does not blindly imitate humanity, but understands its shortcomings and follies. The reader must accept that Rotpeter’s actions are indeed motivated by a fervent desire to “escape” rather than an unthinking admiration. Similarly, the notion that the ape’s actions are forced by his circumstances also seems to contradict the second possible interpretation outlined above, that the events of the story reflect Rotpeter’s disgust for his own “äffisches Vorleben.” His multiple references to instances in which primates are in certain regards superior to their human counterparts make it seems somewhat unlikely that he has totally rejected his own animal background in favor of the more “civilized” paradigm. Rotpeter later states, “Meine Richtung allerdings war mir ein für allemal gegeben” (Kafka 153), again suggesting a certain lack of choice or agency on his part. One final example of this sense of inevitability is Rotpeter’s description of his decision to work on the variety stage: “Als ich in Hamburg dem ersten Dresseur übergeben wurde, erkannte ich bald die zwei Möglichkeiten, die mir offenstanden: Zoologischer Garten oder Varieté. Ich zögerte nicht. Ich sagte mir: setzte alle Kraft an, um ins Varieté zu kommen; das ist der Ausweg; Zoologischer Garten ist nur ein neuer Gitterkäfig; kommst du in ihn, bist du verloren” (Kafka 154). Again, Rotpeter professes that his primary motivation is the pressing need he feels to find a way out, and it is this need that drives all of decision-making. It is also interesting to note that Rotpeter only sees two options here, when in fact it would seem that having finally emerged from physical bondage he would immediately look for other means of escape from human society. Like K. in Der Prozess, Rotpeter does not question the situation with which he is presented, but instead accepts the notion that he must work entirely within that schema. This unquestioning resignation will be discussed in further detail below. One final example of the ape’s feeling that he is being forced into performing certain actions comes at the story’s end, when he reemphasizes, “Ich hatte keinen anderen Weg, immer vorausgesetzt, daß nicht die Freiheit zu wählen war” (Kafka 154). The overriding sense in all of these quotes is one of inevitability and almost predestination. The reason that this interpretation of the ape’s journey is so appealing is that it very much embodies the Kafkaesque technique of basing a story almost entirely on descriptions of a process of discovery which is instigated by an initial catastrophic event. Der Prozess begins with the mysterious declaration, “Jemand musste Josef K. verleumdet haben, denn ohne dass er etwas Böses getan hätte, wurde er eines Morgens verhaftet.” The clash of ontologies is immediately evident within this catastrophic event. Even after an earnest attempt to recall any transgressions he may have committed recently, K. feels innocent of any wrongdoing—yet by the end of the story, he is executed like a common criminal in a stone quarry. The rules of the Court bear no relation to the rules of ordinary life, and it is this tension—bridged of course by the fantastic narrative figure of K. who very much speaks from the point of view of an outsider to the System—that provides the actual structure for the story. Along the way, K. exhibits precious little ability to act with any sort of independent agency, instead finding himself inexplicably drawn to or repulsed by certain elements of the Court and discovering that this bizarre judicial system, whose existence he previously had never suspected, in actual fact permeates virtually every aspect of his life. Similarly, Ein Bericht an eine Akademie presents a clash of ontologies—human and animal—and suggests that the process of negotiating between the two represents a sort of escape. Yet like Der Prozess’s K., Rotpeter never really comes to any sort of definitive conclusion. The ending of the story has a sense of an ongoing narrative: “Im übrigen will ich keines Menschen Urteil, ich will nur Kenntnisse verbreiten, ich berichte nur, auch Ihnen, hohe Herren von der Akademie, habe ich nur berichtet” (Kafka 155). This repetition of the phrase “Ich habe nur berichtet” again implies a loss of agency, as though the ape were only a neutral bystander presenting the facts rather than, as is actually the case, the central actor in the story. Rotpeter’s attempts to understand the new ontology into which he has been thrust do not represent anything like a linear progression. This nonlinear narrative structure is reminiscent of K.’s various encounters with the Court, which, as discussed above, also do not necessarily have to be read in a specific order within the text. Indeed, the seemingly chronological framework of both Der Prozess and Ein Bericht an Eine Akademie is purely a practical necessity. As Stanley Fish has observed in his book Surprised by Sin, “the reading experience takes place in time, that is, we necessarily read one word after another” (Fish 23). Yet one gets the sense that if it were possible to produce a more synchronic account, Kafka would willingly choose that method of narration over the more linear technique that he is ultimately forced to use but which implies a hierarchy of events that he does not actually intend. If we acknowledge that the structure of the Kafkaesque story is incidental, and that each episode which occurs is essentially interchangeable with the next, then we should also accept that the ape’s journey really does concern only his forced response to a set of externally imposed events, and not a conscious decision either to mimic humans or to escape his animal past. In other words, the process in question is one of accommodation, not of events. Another important Kafkaesque link between this story and Der Prozess, and one that relates to the sense of helplessness or inevitability discussed above, is the central character’s unquestioning acceptance of the events that befall him. Just as K. never argues with any of the other characters in Der Prozess about specific facts regarding the Court despite the seemingly illogical nature of many of the regulations, Rotpeter never attempts to lash out at his captors, and he never seems to feel a need to rebel against the human society that he eventually joins. This complacency is even more striking in light of his obvious distaste or condescension for certain aspects of human society, as discussed above. The same sense of fatality that characterizes Rotpeter’s adaptive process therefore also manifests itself in this wholesale acceptance of the new ontology. Yet despite Rotpeter’s apparent readiness to adopt human characteristics and society, it is evident that he, like Gregor in Die Verwandlung, is never fully able to complete the metamorphosis. Indeed, it is precisely in those areas of partial or incomplete ontological overlap that the story derives its most interesting features. For instance, when discussing his decision not to try to escape but instead to adopt human characteristics, Rotpeter states, “Ich kann natürlich das damals affenmäßig Gefühlte heute nur mit Menschenworten nachzeichnen und verzeichne es infolgedessen, aber wenn ich auch die alte Affenwahrheit nicht mehr erreichen kann, wenigstens in der Richtung meiner Schilderung liegt sie, daran ist kein Zweifel” (Kafka 149-50). This statement reveals Rotpeter’s frustration regarding the difficulty of translating from one ontology to another, and it suggests that at a certain level, the two forms of life simply cannot be equated. Rotpeter further emphasizes this theme of the incompatibility of the human and ape ontologies when he explains his decision not to attempt to escape from his cage, a move that he calculates would lead to certain death. “Ich rechnete nicht so menschlich, aber unter dem Einfluß meiner Umgebung verhielt ich mich so, wie wenn ich gerechnet hätte” (Kafka 151). Rotpeter’s suggestion that the logical reasoning he exhibited while on board the ship is a “human” characteristic implies that even as an ape, he was subconsciously possessed of such advanced decision-making faculties. The question then, of course, is whether the reasoning abilities in question truly do belong only to the humans species, or whether they simply reflect an innate animal characteristic. Further, when describing the process by which he learned to mimic humans, Rotepter admits that at times, “Die Affennatur raste, sich überkugelnd, aus mir hinaus und weg, so daß mein erster Lehrer selbst davon fast äffisch wurde, bald den Unterricht aufgeben und in eine Heilanstalt gebracht warden mußte” (Kafka 154). Here we see that the narrator possesses no control over his own “Affennatur” and must watch as it sometimes even overpowers his teachers. The line between the human and primate ontologies is once again blurred. Thus, the Kafkaesque structure of this story emphasizes the often disturbingly close relationship between man and ape. Naturally, then, the reader must find himself wondering whether the ape’s own attempts to escape reflect some sort of intrinsic need on the part of all humans to find an “Ausweg.” After all, in Gogol’s The Overcoat and in Kafka’s Der Prozess and Die Verwandlung, among others, there is a sense in which the entire human race is implicated in the events that take place. By refusing to name the precise department with which his story concerns itself, citing a desire to “avoid any unpleasantness” (Gogol 305), the narrator of The Overcoat in fact implicates all departments and creates a far more accusatory tone than otherwise would have existed. Similarly, in a striking moment at the end of Der Prozess, K. imagines he sees a human figure stretching its arms out to him, and he wonders, “Was it just one person? Was it everyone? Was there still help?” (Kafka The Trial, 230). This generalizing series of questions suddenly pulls the rest of the world into K.’s plight. Along these lines, Bericht an einer Akademie also contains a strong sense of implication, causing the reader to wonder what exactly it is that separates him or her from the animal world. The references to a common ancestry, the extraordinarily grotesque behavior of the sailors aboard the ship, and the relative ease with which the ape is able to please his captors with his own mimicry, all suggest that the relationship is not as distant as we might like it to be. If the link is real, then the next question is whether we as humans ought to be attempting to escape something as well. Perhaps our every action is a form of ape-like performance, and therefore a version of escape. But what does the rather mysterious ending to the story tell the reader about performance as it pertains to the human condition? One way to interpret the ending to Rotpeter’s journey is that he finally finds his “Ausweg” through his creation of the text itself. The very report that he produces for the academy is a manifestation of Rotpeter’s escape, not just from the cage in which he was physically confined, but from his own ignorance and bestiality. Writing is, after all, an essentially performative function, since the author—in this case Rotpeter—retains sole control over the choice of which details should be included in the narrative. Furthermore, with an ich-Erzähler, it is never clear where the truth actually lies, and it is this control over representation that constitutes the narrator’s most important power. Perhaps, then, the story actually concerns Rotpeter’s escape from his condition as a powerless object. His newfound performative role allows him to take on the powers of the author, giving him the ability to narrate and report rather than simply be observed by others. In other words, he escapes the third-person to enter the first. If the essence of humanity is an implied ability to narrate, to tell a story on one’s own terms, it then appears that “acting human” is an essentially performative task, carried out by both primates and humans alike. Yet the ape’s original purpose in writing this report for the academy was to describe his “äffisches Vorleben,” not his current performative existence. And interestingly enough, this is the one topic that he chooses not to discuss. In a report that he dedicates to describing a physical escape from imprisonment as well as a mental escape from animalhood, and in a written format that implies a literary escape from object to subject, it seems like an omission that he would not address the bestial condition from which he originally emerged. Here again is precisely that deliberate and yet inexplicable avoidance of the facts that was discussed earlier with regards to both Rotpeter and K. Rather than confront the precise details of the story’s genesis, both of these characters focus their narratives on the gradual process of adapting to the changes in their lives following catastrophe. Yet the notion that the ape has effected any sort of real or lasting escape is negated by the extremely passive tone of the story’s last lines: “Ich berichte nur, auch Ihnen, hohe Herren von der Akademie, habe ich nur berichtet.” With this decrescendo of a conclusion, Rotpeter effectively negates any sort of agency he might have acquired during the course of the story. Interestingly, the same sense of powerlessness that pervades these lines is also evident in the ending of Der Prozess, in which K. has one last brief moment of mental rebellion, but ultimately succumbs completely to the bizarre justice of the Court. Ultimately, Ein Bericht für eine Akademie demonstrates the Kafkaesque idea that literature does not make a particular statement, but rather creates a way for the reader to arrive at such a conclusion through a process of discovery that parallels that of the main character. As was the case in other short stories by Kafka examined in this essay, the story itself is not a traditional plot-based linear narrative, but instead revolves around this notion of the journey. In the words of Deleuze and Guattari, Die Verwandlung concerns the “paths of escape of the orphaned becoming-animal,” i.e. Gregor (Deleuze and Guattari 14). In an interesting inversion, Ein Bericht für eine Akademie seems to concern the paths of escape of the orphaned “becoming-human” in the character of Rotpeter. It is in this deterritorialized zone between the human and animal ontologies that the Kafkaesque thrives.
Sources Cited Kafka, Franz. Sämtliche Erzählungen (Ed. Paul Raabe). Frankfurt: Fischer Bücherei. 1970. Kafka, Franz. Edited and Translated by Breon Mitchell. The Trial. New York: Schocken Books. 1998. Fish, Stanley. “Yet Never Saw.” Surprised by Sin. Berkeley: University of California Press. 1971. Gogol, Nikolai. “The Nose.” The Complete Tales of Nikolai Gogol: Volume II (Ed. Leonard J. Kent). University of Chicago Press: Chicago. |