In popular culture, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is often celebrated as a near-mythical figure, a genius whose music transcends time and borders. Yet, if we turn our gaze towards a different side of history, we find a more complex and less flattering legacy entwined with political manipulation and propaganda. Rather than the eternal “beloved of the gods,” Mozart’s image was exploited by regimes with questionable motives, most notably during the Nazi era.

After World War II, attempts were made by the Allied forces to cleanse German culture of its Nazi influences, a process known as “denazification.” Yet, despite the focus on prominent figures like Richard Wagner, Mozart’s association with the Nazi regime was largely overlooked. Throughout the Third Reich, Mozart’s music was manipulated to fit Nazi ideology, portraying him as a symbol of Aryan cultural superiority. Publications from the period were reissued, propaganda-ridden prefaces were left largely untouched, and revisions were minimal.

Heinrich Damisch, a fervent Nazi supporter and former director of the Wiener Mozart-Gemeinde, was central to this manipulation. Damisch not only contributed to anti-Semitic rhetoric but also continued to be celebrated in post-war Austria with high honours, despite his troubling legacy. His vile anti-Semitic views were ignored, and he was even honoured with the prestigious Gold Medal for services to the Austrian Republic in the late 1950s. This troubling complicity cast a long shadow on the legacy of Mozart and his association with the Salzburg Festival, a cultural institution deeply intertwined with Nazism.

Perhaps one of the most egregious examples of this tainted legacy is the film Wen die Götter lieben (Whom the Gods Love), commissioned by Joseph Goebbels in 1942. The film presented a heavily sanitised and distorted version of Mozart’s life, where figures such as Lorenzo Da Ponte, the Jewish librettist of The Marriage of Figaro, were erased, replaced by the Aryan Franz Süssmayr. This rewriting of history to fit Nazi ideology illustrates the extent to which Mozart’s image was co-opted to serve the regime’s goals.

Yet, after the war, this darker chapter of Mozart’s legacy was largely forgotten, overshadowed by the romanticised narrative of his “universal genius.” The uncomfortable truth about how his music and image were exploited was swept under the rug. Mozart remains, for many, a beacon of musical purity, while the shadows of history tell a far more disturbing tale.

In popular culture, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is often celebrated as a near-mythical figure, a genius whose music transcends time and borders. Yet, if we turn our gaze towards a different side of history, we find a more complex and less flattering legacy entwined with political manipulation and propaganda. Rather than the eternal “beloved of the gods,” Mozart’s image was exploited by regimes with questionable motives, most notably during the Nazi era.

After World War II, attempts were made by the Allied forces to cleanse German culture of its Nazi influences, a process known as “denazification.” Yet, despite the focus on prominent figures like Richard Wagner, Mozart’s association with the Nazi regime was largely overlooked. Throughout the Third Reich, Mozart’s music was manipulated to fit Nazi ideology, portraying him as a symbol of Aryan cultural superiority. Publications from the period were reissued, propaganda-ridden prefaces were left largely untouched, and revisions were minimal.

Heinrich Damisch, a fervent Nazi supporter and former director of the Wiener Mozart-Gemeinde, was central to this manipulation. Damisch not only contributed to anti-Semitic rhetoric but also continued to be celebrated in post-war Austria with high honours, despite his troubling legacy. His vile anti-Semitic views were ignored, and he was even honoured with the prestigious Gold Medal for services to the Austrian Republic in the late 1950s. This troubling complicity cast a long shadow on the legacy of Mozart and his association with the Salzburg Festival, a cultural institution deeply intertwined with Nazism.

Perhaps one of the most egregious examples of this tainted legacy is the film Wen die Götter lieben (Whom the Gods Love), commissioned by Joseph Goebbels in 1942. The film presented a heavily sanitised and distorted version of Mozart’s life, where figures such as Lorenzo Da Ponte, the Jewish librettist of The Marriage of Figaro, were erased, replaced by the Aryan Franz Süssmayr. This rewriting of history to fit Nazi ideology illustrates the extent to which Mozart’s image was co-opted to serve the regime’s goals.

Yet, after the war, this darker chapter of Mozart’s legacy was largely forgotten, overshadowed by the romanticised narrative of his “universal genius.” The uncomfortable truth about how his music and image were exploited was swept under the rug. Mozart remains, for many, a beacon of musical purity, while the shadows of history tell a far more disturbing tale.