Repressed Sexuality within Franz Kafka’s “The Judgment”
“The Judgment” is a short story that on the surface seems to inhabit an illogical and absurd world. Therein motivations seem odd, and the reactions of the characters are overblown in comparison to the situations presented to them, culminating in the Father’s dramatic outburst, ““I sentence you now to death by drowning!” pg 87.” However in my examination of the text itself, (and with a bit of background in German and in one instance a bit of lucky research into the original German), I came to understand the story as being about homosexuality and the repressed relationship between Georg and his friend in St. Petersburg.
There is definitely a sexual element to “The Judgment”; Kafka, I found out, in his, resounding final line uses the world Verkehr, which means either traffic or sexual intercourse, therefore the line which is translated as “At this moment the an unending stream of traffic was just going over the bridge. pg 88,” has a double-meaning and sexual connotation, reinforced by the fact that Kafka himself told his friend Max Brod that he pictured the final line as a “violent ejaculation.”
Accepting the sexual elements of the story, I looked at what could possibly be construed as subtle or suggestive of a difference kind of relationship than is directly stated in the text. The initial thing that caught my attention was the use of certain words, peculiar and betrayed. Peculiar, because, depending on the translation, was likely in the original German either eigentümlich or eigenartig, both of which, in my understanding of them, have vague but possible homosexual connotations, similar to queer in English, though not as strong. Peculiar occurs three times in the story, and a forth time as ‘peculiarities,’ betrayed occurs twice—conscientious repetitions that could hardly be ignored in such a carefully crafted, concise piece of writing.
This angry tirade immediately struck my attention and was what initially made me decide to try to evaluate this text in terms of a repressed homosexual relationship:
“Because she lifted up her skirts,” his father began to flute, “because she lifted her skirts like this, the nasty creature,” and mimicking her he lifted his shirt so high that one could see the scar on his thigh from his war wound, “because she lifted her skirts like this and this you made up to her, and in order to make free with her you have disgraced your mother’s memory, betrayed your friend, and stuck your father into bed to that he can’t move. But he can move, or can’t he?” Pg 85.
The word betrayed is used again immediately on the next page. The word ‘betrayed’ is a very strong word, and it doesn’t at first glance appear to make sense in the context that it is used. How does one reconcile the use of this word when the subject is merely the character, Georg’s relationship with a woman, Fraulein Brandenfeld, (a name modeled after that of Kafka’s real life girlfriend, with whom he was dissatisfied with at the time), that he has fallen in love with? Only then does the sudden realization occur, (as it did to me), that it does make sense within a context of Georg’s friend having been his former lover as a young man.
Returning back to the beginning of the story I found, as if a veil had been lifted, that the actions of Georg now made sense. His motivations became clear to me, and subtle hints then appeared in the text, such as at the end of his letter, when he writes, “There will be time to you more about her later, for today let me just say that I am very happy and as between you and me the only difference in our relationship is that instead of a quite ordinary kind of friend you will now have in me a happy friend. pg 80.” In this new light it now struck me as very defensive. Even prior to that he waits until the end of the later to say anything, and then tersely, in a rushed tone, starts by saying she came from faraway, and he (his friend), wouldn’t know her.
He concludes the letter by almost apologetically defending his fiancé saying that the friend will like her too when she writes to him. In a relationship between two ordinary friends this is all baffling, but as former lovers it begins to come together. Why when writing, to an old friend, about how one is getting married to a lovely girl would one feel pressed to write that there is no difference in one’s relationship to said friend? Even if his conscious mind has chosen to forget, or at the very least not acknowledge the relationship, he subconsciously takes on the role of asking for his acceptance and forgiveness for the marriage, which the friend, if his role was purely as a friend, should not be necessitated to give.
When Georg is confronted by his father he immediately confesses, apologetically, that he had not wanted to tell his “friend” about his engagement at all, ““Out of consideration for him, that was the only reason,” pg 82.” Consideration is again an odd choice of word, particular in the context. Within this passage, and Georg’s statements immediately following it, reinforce a tone of denial, and cautious defensiveness in his speech. Add to that that the reader is told, “Yet Georg preferred to write about things like these rather than confess that he himself had got engaged a month ago[…] pg 79.” Confess is a word we use to talk about admitting guilt, something we’ve done wrong, to say that we’ve stolen from someone, or cheated on our spouse. As a word choice it is hopelessly out of place between two normal friends, and in context of informing this friend that he has been married.
His father’s reaction, in this case, could be seen as senility, as confusion, or it could be seen as an attempt to pressure Georg into admitting the truth. ““But it’s nothing, it’s worse than nothing, if you don’t tell me the whole truth. I don’t want to stir up matters than shouldn’t be mentioned here.” pg 82.” A short while afterwards Georg tells his father: ““I remember that you used not to like him very much. At least twice I kept you from seeing him, although he was actually sitting with me in my room. I could quite well understand your dislike of him, my friend has his peculiarities.” pg 83.”
Here is an admission that he hid his relationship with his friend from his father, with his only excuse being the suggestion that his friend had his peculiarities, a suggestion that, by the very word and the situation in which it is used, subtly connotes homosexuality. And indeed his father soon lashes at Georg, accusingly, ““He would have been a son after my own heart. That’s why you’ve been playing him false all these years? Why else? Do you think I haven’t been sorry for him?” pg 85.” Reading that the second time the thought occurred to me that in marriage the husband is the son-in-law of the partner’s parents, and the statement then transformed into a subtle, but potent reinforcement of Georg’s homosexual relationship with his friend.
He then has a longing thought, bemoaning the friend now that his father has chipped away the barriers he has placed in his head and brought to him the image of that friend sitting in a forlorn warehouse in Russia, “Why did he have to go so far away! pg 85.” Shortly afterwards, on the bottom of the next page, Georg’s father threatens him in the lead up to his death sentence, ““Just take your bride on your arm and try getting in my way! I’ll sweep her from your very side, you don’t know how!” pg 86.”
In essence, the father gleefully raises the possibility of blackmail, seeking to place his son back under his control, saying, basically, that he has the information to ruin him should he so wish. However the Father character in the story serves not as an unscrupulous self-serving businessman, but rather the judge, the prosecutor, and the jury, the decider of what is true and the moral compass. When he says, ““An innocent child, yes, that you were, truly, but still more truly have you been a devilish human being!” pg 87,” he is accusing Georg of having been untrue to himself and having hurt the person he truly loved in the process.
It is then, sexual guilt that drives him out of the room, down the stairs, over the street, and over the rails into the waters below, going along with the closing sentence that Kafka envisioned as a “violent ejaculation.” It explains why he chooses to carry out that sentence—the sudden realization of what he has done, and the remembrance of his true feelings are an explosive, sexually charged feeling, and in a flurry of hopelessness—in recognition of a society that could never accept him and of his own destruction of his relationship—he throws himself off of the bridge.
He is drowning figuratively and literally by “The Judgment’s” conclusion, and it serves as Kafka’s discussion of an illogical world, driven by its own limitations and the difficulty of expressing one’s true self, (in Kafka’s case it was his frustration with his inability to pursue a career in his writing), within it. Georg is a figure who has repressed his own feelings and sexuality to blend in with it, to become the figure he feels he is expected to be by those around him and to take up the mantle of businessman. He is even getting married and has constructed an elaborate set of excuses and reasons for his actions, and only subconsciously reveals his true motives and feelings.
The consistent and conscientious use of language in ways that directly suggest a sexual relationship, and the interactions between Georg and his father, form a concrete argument for the story as one which explores the repressed sexuality of its main character, brought to the fore by his father, the judge who here is the decider of truth, and the prosecutor who attempts to extract what the truth is. What this is a metaphor for is a topic for another discussion, but it is an undeniable aspect of the short story in my mind, and absolutely key to understanding both it, and Kafka’s intentions and emotions in writing it.
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