There were intense talks about which form the West German state would take during the Berlin blockade. Witness the form it did take.
There was a "parliamentary council" and a "basic law." In effect, a democratic proceeding that was carfeul not to correct the mistakes of Wiemar. A democracy that "always had the courage to destroy all those who set out to destroy it."
Such faith based democracy reminds me of a Soviet state. There were to be no more Enabling Acts, undemocratic parties could be banned, and so forth...
Clauses outlawing "rabble rousing" "antidemocratic propoganda" and "warmongering" nullifies any property/civil/workers rights. Pressure to integrate in the European communtiy alleviated the problems of this temporary government. Perhaps it was not the Weimar Republic, but Europe, which yielded popular support in the 1930's.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Fraternizing With The Enemy
After coming home defeated and changed by the trauma and horror of war, it seems German men could not even enjoy the simple solace of their woman's embrace. Instead, they saw many of their countrywomen fraternizing with occupation troops. Biddiscombe outlines reactions to this in Dangerous Liasons, which range from indifference to extremity. Anti-fraternization campaigns took off in Germany, targeted centrally against American troops, and leading also to the strange trend of German men cutting the hair of women who had liasons with occupying soldiers.
Biddiscomb's intentions here are important- "The fact that young men intimidated women in various countries is not an argument in favor of sociobiological determinism, as if bullying women is an act grounded in the natural order of things. Whether male aggressiveness is a universal attribute is an issue hotly debated, but even if it is, the counterclaim is that culture is predominant, in the sense that it liberates human behavior from biological determinants. In immediate post-Nazi Germany and Austria, however, cultural inhibitors were even more absent than in other societies, given the fact that young men had just been subjected to a steady propoganda diet glorifying violence, Aryanism, militarism, and a raw code of patriarchal 'manliness.'"
It does not take a leap of the imagination to understand some of these German soldiers. They had just lost a war, only to see the men who had been shooting at them enjoying their countrywomen. After being so subjected to ideas of Nazi militance and superiority, their shame must have been overwhelming. The only people they could exercise rage against, however, were their women. This is a great example of litost- that great Czech word with no English equivalent. It is a "state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery, a state of feeling miserable and humiliated. Litost awakens a desire for revenge, a desire to strike back at the cause of one’s misery and humiliation."
The idea of women as war spoils is such an anachronism it's hardly worth mentioning- Helen of Troy here takes the guise of Helga of Berlin. But for many of these women, there was economic impetus to fraternization. It was survival. The rage their brothers and fathers endured can be seen as some of the last vestiges in common, domestic Nazism, before the doctrine extended to fringe racist organizations.
Biddiscomb's intentions here are important- "The fact that young men intimidated women in various countries is not an argument in favor of sociobiological determinism, as if bullying women is an act grounded in the natural order of things. Whether male aggressiveness is a universal attribute is an issue hotly debated, but even if it is, the counterclaim is that culture is predominant, in the sense that it liberates human behavior from biological determinants. In immediate post-Nazi Germany and Austria, however, cultural inhibitors were even more absent than in other societies, given the fact that young men had just been subjected to a steady propoganda diet glorifying violence, Aryanism, militarism, and a raw code of patriarchal 'manliness.'"
It does not take a leap of the imagination to understand some of these German soldiers. They had just lost a war, only to see the men who had been shooting at them enjoying their countrywomen. After being so subjected to ideas of Nazi militance and superiority, their shame must have been overwhelming. The only people they could exercise rage against, however, were their women. This is a great example of litost- that great Czech word with no English equivalent. It is a "state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery, a state of feeling miserable and humiliated. Litost awakens a desire for revenge, a desire to strike back at the cause of one’s misery and humiliation."
The idea of women as war spoils is such an anachronism it's hardly worth mentioning- Helen of Troy here takes the guise of Helga of Berlin. But for many of these women, there was economic impetus to fraternization. It was survival. The rage their brothers and fathers endured can be seen as some of the last vestiges in common, domestic Nazism, before the doctrine extended to fringe racist organizations.
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Third Reich Climbs and Clasps
The texts this week, Fritzsche's final pages and "The Hitler Myth," were quite complimentary. While Fritzsche addresses two popular misconceptions about Hitler's rise, Versailles and the Depression, Ian Kershaw addresses the misconceptions that the Fuhrer and his ministers put forth by design. Kershaw's attention to the myth that generated appeal goes well with Fritzsche's explanation of voter appeal. Their arguments facilitate an assessment of the Third Reich as a populist movement that evolved into a cult of personality.
The parades of January 30, 1933 that left reporters and even Goebbels himself awe-struck indicate the popular deification already at work. The torch procession, especially as described by the onlooking French ambassador, forbodingly evokes imagery more akin to a black mass than a political triumph. Hitler used tactics that find their roots in the Hindenburg elections of 1925 to gain such sweeping mobilization. Here, the right learned how to get fired up- i.e. paramilitary organizations, meetings, youth alliances, and rallies- but they would fail to find umbrella representation until the Nazi alternative. After this ground-up movement made its mark on the Reichstagh, a top-down initiative would be necessary.
This meant a deified Hitler. In an actualization of Hobbe's Leviathan, the troubles of the Weimar Republic seemed to leave a general craving for stern, single-minded leadership. The portrait of Hitler was infallible: a selfless personification of national unity, an economic miracle-worker, the fair yet ruthless bringer of justice at home and abroad, a moderate/traditionalist, and a military genius all wrapped into one. This ideal was the people's and the party's, and alienated who it could easily afford to- elites and political enemies (not to mention those condemned citizenry).
What strikes me most about the Hitler myth hearkens back to my Catch-22 blog post, wherein the unifying power of hatred was pondered. Fritzsche is convincing in his assessment that the Nazis won power, not through hate and fear-mongering, but domestic promise. Once in, however, could Hitler have forged such strong bonds among the German populace without condemning social impurities, without the rhetoric of racial inferiorty? The Nazis were seen as bringing a better way of life to the largest amount of Germans, and did. But the nation was so divided that only the harshest commonalities would suffice, human sacrifice among them.
Kershaw also reminds me of my thoughts of the structure of myth itself as a historiographical accomplice. Hitler's "underlings" knew the key to the popular heart was this God image, a guise which ultimately revealed (take your pick)- Shiva, Satan, Lord Voldemort...
The parades of January 30, 1933 that left reporters and even Goebbels himself awe-struck indicate the popular deification already at work. The torch procession, especially as described by the onlooking French ambassador, forbodingly evokes imagery more akin to a black mass than a political triumph. Hitler used tactics that find their roots in the Hindenburg elections of 1925 to gain such sweeping mobilization. Here, the right learned how to get fired up- i.e. paramilitary organizations, meetings, youth alliances, and rallies- but they would fail to find umbrella representation until the Nazi alternative. After this ground-up movement made its mark on the Reichstagh, a top-down initiative would be necessary.
This meant a deified Hitler. In an actualization of Hobbe's Leviathan, the troubles of the Weimar Republic seemed to leave a general craving for stern, single-minded leadership. The portrait of Hitler was infallible: a selfless personification of national unity, an economic miracle-worker, the fair yet ruthless bringer of justice at home and abroad, a moderate/traditionalist, and a military genius all wrapped into one. This ideal was the people's and the party's, and alienated who it could easily afford to- elites and political enemies (not to mention those condemned citizenry).
What strikes me most about the Hitler myth hearkens back to my Catch-22 blog post, wherein the unifying power of hatred was pondered. Fritzsche is convincing in his assessment that the Nazis won power, not through hate and fear-mongering, but domestic promise. Once in, however, could Hitler have forged such strong bonds among the German populace without condemning social impurities, without the rhetoric of racial inferiorty? The Nazis were seen as bringing a better way of life to the largest amount of Germans, and did. But the nation was so divided that only the harshest commonalities would suffice, human sacrifice among them.
Kershaw also reminds me of my thoughts of the structure of myth itself as a historiographical accomplice. Hitler's "underlings" knew the key to the popular heart was this God image, a guise which ultimately revealed (take your pick)- Shiva, Satan, Lord Voldemort...
Friday, October 9, 2009
Free To Be Nazis
Broadly, Peter Fritzsche's argument in Germans Into Nazis is that Hitler's regime was brought about by a process of democratization. The August Days of 1914 and the revolution in 1918 are presented as the key turning points before 1933. The evidence is solid, but this does not make Fritzsche's argument any less counter-intuitive. Nazis epitomize fascism, and fascism is associated with a power seizure from above. Germans Into Nazis makes what turns out to be a bold claim, as the title all but suggests- Germans weren't brainwashed into accepting the Third Reich, they transformed themselves.
Fritzche's argument has historical precedent outside of Germany. The Nazis themselves only occurred once, but people seizing government control (again- democratization) has led to authoritarian (in this case totalitarian) regimes pretty often. One sees this in many different forms: Napolean is to the French Revolution as Stalin is to the Russian Revolution as Mao is to the Chinese Revolution. Furthermore, democracies in Italy, Brazil, and India all fell to tyranny in the 20th century. So Weimar Germany provided the perfect conditions for Hitler to exercise power, a mere addendum to a pre-existing precedent.
The danger in suggesting such a broad historical trend is the multiplicity of counter-examples. But how many are there? Populist movements have certainly been known to lead to functional democracies, but these begin to look like more of an exception than a rule. The American Revolution certainly never ushered in a totalitarian order. Denmark and Switzerland also boast long traditions of democratic stability. Am I missing any? Aincient Greece, perhaps? Modern Greece certainly belongs in the second paragraph- for the overthrow of democracy once in 1936 and again with the military coup of 1967.
Crucial to the rise of Nazism is Germany's unique militarism. Fritzsche identifies two very different entities: the interest group society of the Weimar republic and the Freikorps. The two can be reconciled to explain the rise of Nazism. Germany has always struggled with disunity (see last week's post), divisions that reach to its HRE days. Unity has always come in a militant guise- be it unification itself or the grand August Days of 1914 (where Fritzsche sees the origins of German populism and Nazism). Intoxicating as this unity seems to have been, the rapture of the August Days were short-lived, to be replaced by a bitter commonality that ran the Kaiser out. Then, it was back to fracture as always with the self-interested vocational splits that dominated Weimar. The Freikorps was an outlet for veterans and militants in general, many members would become prominent Nazis later on. However, they were nihilistic in many ways, not having any political motivation.
The fracture of the interest groups was nationalistically unsatisfying. The Freikorps- simply a blind, violent embodiment of a yearning for national singularity. In such a state, the Germans were ripe for a movement that captured the ideals of the Left and the blind nationalism of the Right, all the while basking in the promise of great military glory. As Nazis, the intoxication of the crowd could be felt once more...
Fritzche's argument has historical precedent outside of Germany. The Nazis themselves only occurred once, but people seizing government control (again- democratization) has led to authoritarian (in this case totalitarian) regimes pretty often. One sees this in many different forms: Napolean is to the French Revolution as Stalin is to the Russian Revolution as Mao is to the Chinese Revolution. Furthermore, democracies in Italy, Brazil, and India all fell to tyranny in the 20th century. So Weimar Germany provided the perfect conditions for Hitler to exercise power, a mere addendum to a pre-existing precedent.
The danger in suggesting such a broad historical trend is the multiplicity of counter-examples. But how many are there? Populist movements have certainly been known to lead to functional democracies, but these begin to look like more of an exception than a rule. The American Revolution certainly never ushered in a totalitarian order. Denmark and Switzerland also boast long traditions of democratic stability. Am I missing any? Aincient Greece, perhaps? Modern Greece certainly belongs in the second paragraph- for the overthrow of democracy once in 1936 and again with the military coup of 1967.
Crucial to the rise of Nazism is Germany's unique militarism. Fritzsche identifies two very different entities: the interest group society of the Weimar republic and the Freikorps. The two can be reconciled to explain the rise of Nazism. Germany has always struggled with disunity (see last week's post), divisions that reach to its HRE days. Unity has always come in a militant guise- be it unification itself or the grand August Days of 1914 (where Fritzsche sees the origins of German populism and Nazism). Intoxicating as this unity seems to have been, the rapture of the August Days were short-lived, to be replaced by a bitter commonality that ran the Kaiser out. Then, it was back to fracture as always with the self-interested vocational splits that dominated Weimar. The Freikorps was an outlet for veterans and militants in general, many members would become prominent Nazis later on. However, they were nihilistic in many ways, not having any political motivation.
The fracture of the interest groups was nationalistically unsatisfying. The Freikorps- simply a blind, violent embodiment of a yearning for national singularity. In such a state, the Germans were ripe for a movement that captured the ideals of the Left and the blind nationalism of the Right, all the while basking in the promise of great military glory. As Nazis, the intoxication of the crowd could be felt once more...
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Blame War on Disunity
On Friday, Malto posed the question- who do you blame for World War I? This is the type of inquiry history professors make because it is necessary and thought-provoking for students, while knowing no definitive answer exists even among countless historians. We were posed this question from a national standpoint in my AP 20th century course. It's a fine place to start (should we blame the Serbs? Austrians? Russians? Germans?) but there is a great fallacy in thinking of countries as single, acting units. After the semester's examination so far, I think Germany is the best example of such fracture and disunity, to the extent that blaming Germany as a whole for World War I is embarassing... in retrospect. Where are the specific factors? To find these, I think you have to start with the most pervading element of German society/government post-unification: disunity.
It seems natural to start with Kaiser's assertion that "Bethmann in 1914 risked war because of a mistaken belief that Germany's international position demanded it. Sharing the widespread conviction that German expansion was necessary and estimating that Germany's chances for success were diminishing, the chancellor made decisions that led directly to war." Kaiser blames Bethmann Hollweg in many ways, but who demanded war as a reinforcement for Germany's international position? The amplified foreign policy of the Weltpolitik era was a means of coordinating the uncoordinated German government- the splintered Reichstag, the chancellor, and the Kaiser. However, Weltpolitik was "a patriotic umbrella," not the reform this government really demanded. It wore off before war broke out, and was not a feasible domestic distraction by the time Bethmann came into office in 1909.
Social fracture was intense in the years leading up to and during war. There was severe polarity of town and country, problems with nationalities, and the fastest industrialization of all time occurring simultaneously. Political and social groups mushroomed ubiquitously, and vied for whatever best served their individual interests (Sammlung). Getting the Germans together would clearly take an extreme agent.
If disunity was the problem, and war was the solution, than Kaiser's blame seems founded- "war took place only because Bethmann circumvented the decision-making structure of the German governement." War was the solution for Bethmann alone? There were plenty of war-hawks in Germany, looking to assert bloody honor. The problems Germany experienced before 1914 would not be given a sweeping conclusion come conflict-time. Instead, far worse problems would emerge, and haunt the nation for years to come.
It seems natural to start with Kaiser's assertion that "Bethmann in 1914 risked war because of a mistaken belief that Germany's international position demanded it. Sharing the widespread conviction that German expansion was necessary and estimating that Germany's chances for success were diminishing, the chancellor made decisions that led directly to war." Kaiser blames Bethmann Hollweg in many ways, but who demanded war as a reinforcement for Germany's international position? The amplified foreign policy of the Weltpolitik era was a means of coordinating the uncoordinated German government- the splintered Reichstag, the chancellor, and the Kaiser. However, Weltpolitik was "a patriotic umbrella," not the reform this government really demanded. It wore off before war broke out, and was not a feasible domestic distraction by the time Bethmann came into office in 1909.
Social fracture was intense in the years leading up to and during war. There was severe polarity of town and country, problems with nationalities, and the fastest industrialization of all time occurring simultaneously. Political and social groups mushroomed ubiquitously, and vied for whatever best served their individual interests (Sammlung). Getting the Germans together would clearly take an extreme agent.
If disunity was the problem, and war was the solution, than Kaiser's blame seems founded- "war took place only because Bethmann circumvented the decision-making structure of the German governement." War was the solution for Bethmann alone? There were plenty of war-hawks in Germany, looking to assert bloody honor. The problems Germany experienced before 1914 would not be given a sweeping conclusion come conflict-time. Instead, far worse problems would emerge, and haunt the nation for years to come.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Blackbourn's Peasantry
It is becoming apparent that history is not only as riddled with stigma as society itself, but often is the source. Research can clear up some of the attributes that have discredited certain sectors. Blackbourn exercises that power through the agrarian German peasantry in Peasants and Politics in Germany, 1871-1914. Misunderstandings of their political activism pervade, since it is a convenient way of understanding their eventual support for the Third Reich. Was the stagnant German peasant-farmer of the Second Reich the perfect vehicle for proto-fascism?
German peasants have been simultaneously glorified and derided for their traditionalism. Wilhelm Riehl praised their conservative good sense, while Karl Marx cursed the idiocy of rural life. What needs to be addressed is the actual role of rural politics. Blackbourn begins with the two basic approaches. Haushofer's happy tale of modernization, where social changes correspond to agricultural developments, is "simply one damn improvement after another." The more legitimate argument to consider is Rosenburg's- "the junkers were able to gain a new lease of life by manipulating rural discontent and mobilizing the peasantry and other parts of the rural population behind their own banner." Both theories are exaggerations to Blackbourn, but Rosenburg can at least be considered a starting point for argument and analysis.
The agrarian peasantry came to life in the 1890's, as a result of many varying grievances with a common root: these primary producers were subject to outside market and political forces that lay frustratingly beyond their control. Some fought back with co-operatives- dairy producers, for example, organized to bring about a rise in the cost of milk in 1895. More importantly, a feeling of manipulation and exploitation changed the peasantry. School, military, and communication advances gave agrarian youth the impetus to move to the town, which gave the established farmer a reason to fear and mistrust such "modernization." Dissatsified with the government and otherwise politically inactive, independent movements of the 1890's became the hallmark of peasant discontent. As a result of some fierce politicking, and the winning of supposedly "safe seats," rural grievances were given a platform and would be addressed in years to come. The partisan failure of these fleeting peasant movements is not indicative of their influence, but is a characterisitic of their nature- to flare up, be appeased, and die down until the next aggrivation.
Assesment of Germany's peasant class should be multi-dimensional, as Blackbourn suggests. While Prussian peasants were manipulated to a certain extent by Junker Conservatives through the Agrarian League, there was a different story playing itself out in Bavaria and Wurttemberg. This article closes, as it begins, with a peasant frame for advent of National Socialism in 1933. This advent and the re-casting of rural politics "was itself a process, not a completed event whereby the success of the Agrarian League fixed a pattern of politics down to 1933." These tillers of the land cannot only be viewed as pawns for Junker chessmasters and Nazi mobilization, but must be given credit for taking action for their own causes.
German peasants have been simultaneously glorified and derided for their traditionalism. Wilhelm Riehl praised their conservative good sense, while Karl Marx cursed the idiocy of rural life. What needs to be addressed is the actual role of rural politics. Blackbourn begins with the two basic approaches. Haushofer's happy tale of modernization, where social changes correspond to agricultural developments, is "simply one damn improvement after another." The more legitimate argument to consider is Rosenburg's- "the junkers were able to gain a new lease of life by manipulating rural discontent and mobilizing the peasantry and other parts of the rural population behind their own banner." Both theories are exaggerations to Blackbourn, but Rosenburg can at least be considered a starting point for argument and analysis.
The agrarian peasantry came to life in the 1890's, as a result of many varying grievances with a common root: these primary producers were subject to outside market and political forces that lay frustratingly beyond their control. Some fought back with co-operatives- dairy producers, for example, organized to bring about a rise in the cost of milk in 1895. More importantly, a feeling of manipulation and exploitation changed the peasantry. School, military, and communication advances gave agrarian youth the impetus to move to the town, which gave the established farmer a reason to fear and mistrust such "modernization." Dissatsified with the government and otherwise politically inactive, independent movements of the 1890's became the hallmark of peasant discontent. As a result of some fierce politicking, and the winning of supposedly "safe seats," rural grievances were given a platform and would be addressed in years to come. The partisan failure of these fleeting peasant movements is not indicative of their influence, but is a characterisitic of their nature- to flare up, be appeased, and die down until the next aggrivation.
Assesment of Germany's peasant class should be multi-dimensional, as Blackbourn suggests. While Prussian peasants were manipulated to a certain extent by Junker Conservatives through the Agrarian League, there was a different story playing itself out in Bavaria and Wurttemberg. This article closes, as it begins, with a peasant frame for advent of National Socialism in 1933. This advent and the re-casting of rural politics "was itself a process, not a completed event whereby the success of the Agrarian League fixed a pattern of politics down to 1933." These tillers of the land cannot only be viewed as pawns for Junker chessmasters and Nazi mobilization, but must be given credit for taking action for their own causes.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Beyond Historical Perspective?
Chris Lorenz's article Beyond Good and Evil? offers a variety of perspectives on the Second Reich's role in the rise of Nazism. Some historians believe in an inherent tie between the two, though they're able to conflict on the roles of Bismarck, liberalism, geopolitics, economics and culture. Nipperdey (and others, though not so discreetly) outright rejects a connection between the Second and Third Reichs, citing two different Germanies in two different periods and a social heterogeneity that makes connection irrelevant. So what's an ideal interpretation? Can these theories be reconciled to get a clear, continuous picture of Germany?
The Bielefeld school's (Wehler and Kocka's) famous theory revolves around the idea of German Sonderweg, explaining the nation's unique destiny through a combination of backwards politics and a rapidly advancing economy. Bismarck is here posited as a Bonapartist, who distracted the masses from domestic problems through foreign affairs and built national unity in the form of "negative integration." This Sonderweg would not have been possible without the failure of German liberals to parliamentarize and reform the nation. The authoritarian nature of Germany was a consistancy from Reich to Reich.
Hillgruber, Hildebrand and Sturmer contradict the Bielefeld interpretation through a geopolitcal stance, stating Germany's problem was its very existence, in that it "was too big to cohabit with Europe and too weak to control it." German military assertion (and defeat) was therefore inevitable. Though these three historians (Mittellage school) are noted as offering a discontinuity in Second and Third Reich politics, they still frame German destiny as beginning with unification, just like Bielefeld. Thus, importance is placed on Bismarck and early Prussian assertion for both.
These are reasonable ideas with pretty comprehensive explanations, but they are well-challenged (especially Bielefeld) through the neo-Marxist critique of Eley and Blackburn. These two see a fundamental fallacy in the notion that the aristocracy was inherently feudal and the bourgeoisie inherently liberal. The error is in an understanding through stigma rather than fact, and shows too much association with British and French history. This fascinates me. There are certain historical trends (political and economic trends) that people link- like democracy and capitalism- that simply do not have to co-exist. Capitalism, which did indeed flourish under fascism, was not necessarily the boon of the German bourgies. Elie and Blackburn's assertion: it is ridiculous to view the Sonderweg on the basis of what didn't happen in Germany. This resonates well with me.
A note: I don't know about the rest of the class, but reading Lorenx initially did little for me. Only after this article was broken down in class could I go back and properly interpret it. Is double-reading thus mandatory for future comprehension? I hope not, that's alot of work. Also, this blog post is less of a feedback opportunity as a review activity. If anyone gets this far, I apologize for the regurgitation. Continuing (with some closure and a more honest format)...
Mommsen: no decision was made between aristocratic authoritarianism and bourgie parliamentarism. So stability was Bismarck's job in this respect, and he failed- failed to protect the conservative power structure he espoused, a protection which would have meant more significant stability than the balancing of class forces that left Germany teetering and vulnerable. Vulnerable to what? Industry boomed and, after the initial crash, most social groups experienced a wealth influx. Vulnerable to military defeat and an ultimate Hitler?
Ritter: the ideological divisions of Germany go back as far as the 1830's, with each bloc having a social group to depend on. The liberals alone lacked a credibility and social base that rendered them hopeless after the 1873 crash. Bismarck's negative integration backfired, catalyzing a political mobilization that gave the German system distinctly modern features (take that Bielfeld).
After the storm, Nipperdey is a breath of fresh air, which is probably why Lorenz fleshes his ideas out last. In essence, history can not be regarded in the linear fashion that most historians see it in. It is rather a "sea of possibilities," an "open process"- in which "individuals can exercise a decisive influence." Individuals like Bismarck or Hitler or Kaiser Wilhelm or Gavrilo Princep...
It is not a waste of time to grapple with early structures in trying to relate to modern ones, but in doing so, historians cannot help but see the nuances. In this respect, Nipperdey's historiography has the efflugence of philosophy- an appeal of general application, not just German. So, in what could be viewed as a copout, I'll subscribe to the Nipperdey school, and not allow the vague leftisms and rightisms such lofty influence- the influence people, intentions, and accidents deserve. Through the Second German Empire, Lorenz closes, we see "how much construction lurks in every reconstruction of history." A statement as empowering as it is unsettling.
The Bielefeld school's (Wehler and Kocka's) famous theory revolves around the idea of German Sonderweg, explaining the nation's unique destiny through a combination of backwards politics and a rapidly advancing economy. Bismarck is here posited as a Bonapartist, who distracted the masses from domestic problems through foreign affairs and built national unity in the form of "negative integration." This Sonderweg would not have been possible without the failure of German liberals to parliamentarize and reform the nation. The authoritarian nature of Germany was a consistancy from Reich to Reich.
Hillgruber, Hildebrand and Sturmer contradict the Bielefeld interpretation through a geopolitcal stance, stating Germany's problem was its very existence, in that it "was too big to cohabit with Europe and too weak to control it." German military assertion (and defeat) was therefore inevitable. Though these three historians (Mittellage school) are noted as offering a discontinuity in Second and Third Reich politics, they still frame German destiny as beginning with unification, just like Bielefeld. Thus, importance is placed on Bismarck and early Prussian assertion for both.
These are reasonable ideas with pretty comprehensive explanations, but they are well-challenged (especially Bielefeld) through the neo-Marxist critique of Eley and Blackburn. These two see a fundamental fallacy in the notion that the aristocracy was inherently feudal and the bourgeoisie inherently liberal. The error is in an understanding through stigma rather than fact, and shows too much association with British and French history. This fascinates me. There are certain historical trends (political and economic trends) that people link- like democracy and capitalism- that simply do not have to co-exist. Capitalism, which did indeed flourish under fascism, was not necessarily the boon of the German bourgies. Elie and Blackburn's assertion: it is ridiculous to view the Sonderweg on the basis of what didn't happen in Germany. This resonates well with me.
A note: I don't know about the rest of the class, but reading Lorenx initially did little for me. Only after this article was broken down in class could I go back and properly interpret it. Is double-reading thus mandatory for future comprehension? I hope not, that's alot of work. Also, this blog post is less of a feedback opportunity as a review activity. If anyone gets this far, I apologize for the regurgitation. Continuing (with some closure and a more honest format)...
Mommsen: no decision was made between aristocratic authoritarianism and bourgie parliamentarism. So stability was Bismarck's job in this respect, and he failed- failed to protect the conservative power structure he espoused, a protection which would have meant more significant stability than the balancing of class forces that left Germany teetering and vulnerable. Vulnerable to what? Industry boomed and, after the initial crash, most social groups experienced a wealth influx. Vulnerable to military defeat and an ultimate Hitler?
Ritter: the ideological divisions of Germany go back as far as the 1830's, with each bloc having a social group to depend on. The liberals alone lacked a credibility and social base that rendered them hopeless after the 1873 crash. Bismarck's negative integration backfired, catalyzing a political mobilization that gave the German system distinctly modern features (take that Bielfeld).
After the storm, Nipperdey is a breath of fresh air, which is probably why Lorenz fleshes his ideas out last. In essence, history can not be regarded in the linear fashion that most historians see it in. It is rather a "sea of possibilities," an "open process"- in which "individuals can exercise a decisive influence." Individuals like Bismarck or Hitler or Kaiser Wilhelm or Gavrilo Princep...
It is not a waste of time to grapple with early structures in trying to relate to modern ones, but in doing so, historians cannot help but see the nuances. In this respect, Nipperdey's historiography has the efflugence of philosophy- an appeal of general application, not just German. So, in what could be viewed as a copout, I'll subscribe to the Nipperdey school, and not allow the vague leftisms and rightisms such lofty influence- the influence people, intentions, and accidents deserve. Through the Second German Empire, Lorenz closes, we see "how much construction lurks in every reconstruction of history." A statement as empowering as it is unsettling.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Myth and the Kulterkampf
I find it interesting to look at the Bismarckian phase of German history, especially the Kulturkampf, through the lens of myth. Any given culture has a mythology that serves as a strong basis of unity and perspective. The schism between Catholics and politics at large in the newly unified nation comes to a head in 1871, when protests were filed about clergy members’ Center Party support. The split between established interest and Catholicism is a powerful example of myth’s place in society.
What German mythology was a point of unity at this stage? The Grimm brothers collected and catalogued many of these specific myths, which have been since translated and gained world-renown. The fairy tale is not merely a moral apparatus, with life-applying metaphor, though this is an important function. The widespread dissemination by the Grimm brothers provided a strong commonality for the collective German psyche, the commonality of story. People could relate and embrace their German-ness through their folktales. Not only that, but the folk-tale seemed particularly relevant when the newfangled German citizen was caught up in their own mythical adventure, with their recent triumph and a heroic history unfolding before their eyes.
It can be argued, then, that the German government was championing its own mythology. Through the trials of war, a German legend was born, and each citizen was to embrace this legend as their own, and to share their history as a basis for unity. If the politics of the day were endorsing their success as heroic destiny, a real-life mythological feat, then it could only be at odds with the Catholic, who had their own Biblical myths and own political agenda to account for.
If myth is as unifying as I think, then the cohesion Catholics attained with a common mythological basis was threatening to the government and non-Catholic masses for that very reason. Anderson notes that in the context of social struggle, the Catholic Church had political appeal because it “provided a ready-made rhetoric” that accounted for class difference. The virtue of the poor is certainly part of the Biblical tradtion. It was this aspect of myth that gave clergy members like Father Muller grounds for political participation. The Catholic mobilization and organization that scared the state was firmly planted in mythology, a state that organized its citizens through its own mythological discourse.
The Kulturkampf in this context, as widespread secularization and Church censorship, was an effort to consolidate the mythology of the people. Catholics were using their traditions and dogma to gain political favor, which was empowering as it was unifying. The powers-that-be sought social unification through their own traditions, which, like any historical framework, was presented with the full spectrum of mythological archetypes (which Carl Jung would later hypothesize): Departure (the decision to unify), Initiation (the trials of war), and Return (the ultimate boon- unification). The two refused to co-exist.
What German mythology was a point of unity at this stage? The Grimm brothers collected and catalogued many of these specific myths, which have been since translated and gained world-renown. The fairy tale is not merely a moral apparatus, with life-applying metaphor, though this is an important function. The widespread dissemination by the Grimm brothers provided a strong commonality for the collective German psyche, the commonality of story. People could relate and embrace their German-ness through their folktales. Not only that, but the folk-tale seemed particularly relevant when the newfangled German citizen was caught up in their own mythical adventure, with their recent triumph and a heroic history unfolding before their eyes.
It can be argued, then, that the German government was championing its own mythology. Through the trials of war, a German legend was born, and each citizen was to embrace this legend as their own, and to share their history as a basis for unity. If the politics of the day were endorsing their success as heroic destiny, a real-life mythological feat, then it could only be at odds with the Catholic, who had their own Biblical myths and own political agenda to account for.
If myth is as unifying as I think, then the cohesion Catholics attained with a common mythological basis was threatening to the government and non-Catholic masses for that very reason. Anderson notes that in the context of social struggle, the Catholic Church had political appeal because it “provided a ready-made rhetoric” that accounted for class difference. The virtue of the poor is certainly part of the Biblical tradtion. It was this aspect of myth that gave clergy members like Father Muller grounds for political participation. The Catholic mobilization and organization that scared the state was firmly planted in mythology, a state that organized its citizens through its own mythological discourse.
The Kulturkampf in this context, as widespread secularization and Church censorship, was an effort to consolidate the mythology of the people. Catholics were using their traditions and dogma to gain political favor, which was empowering as it was unifying. The powers-that-be sought social unification through their own traditions, which, like any historical framework, was presented with the full spectrum of mythological archetypes (which Carl Jung would later hypothesize): Departure (the decision to unify), Initiation (the trials of war), and Return (the ultimate boon- unification). The two refused to co-exist.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Jewish Success- A Sad Catch-22
People are unified by hatred. Hatred isn’t the only way, of course, but it’s a strong one. Germany shows this early and often. For example, the Franco-Prussian War meant German unification under Prussia. Even though Southern German states loathed that idea, they loathed the French even more. So they mobilized and helped crush Napoleon III’s France, rubbing salt in the wound with a declaration of unification in the Versailles Palace. Napoleon III himself knew France suffered from domestic ailments that only hawkish foreign policy could redeem. Uniting the people through hatred of outsiders is one thing, namely nationalism (jingoism). But when a war doesn’t seem imminent, people are prone to seek enemies within. This is where German anti-Semitism has its roots.
It’s interesting that Germany was not the European hotbed of anti-Semitism in the late 19th century. Kitchen notes that “France, Russia, and Austria-Hungary far outbid Germany as centers of anti-Semitism, and the sneaky underhanded English brand of anti-Semitism was probably even more pernicious.” This conjures images of Russian pogroms and the notorious Dreyfus Affair. Jews were protected by the law in Germany, and were thus able to make their way up the social ladder through institutions like banking, the stock market, and the media. In 1908, 10 of the top 11 wealthiest citizens of Berlin were Jewish.
In a cruel catch-22, it is that very allowance of capital gain that spawned hatred for the German Jew. A successful community that always has the label of “the other” will naturally garner envy and insecurity. Envy and insecurity lead to fear, and fear leads to hatemongering. The mongering took off with a new kind of scientific anti-Semitism, which took the place of the traditional religious brand. Eugen Duhring’s ”The Jewish Question as a Racial, Moral and Cultural Problem,” published in 1881, embodies such ridiculous pseudo-science, in which the Jewish populace is viewed as biologically threatening. The classic role of scapegoat was also quite prominent. Jewish speculators were blamed for the 1874 stock exchange crash, and capitalism itself was denounced as Jewish. Fear of modernity led to hatred of the Jew.
Despite isolated violence, and the anti-Semitic theorizing of the day, the German Jewish community was doing well up to and after the turn of the 19th century, as “their rights were guaranteed by the law, upheld by the government, and supported by most political parties.” German Jews achieved prominence in society and wealth, embracing their German heritage all the while. Their success and doom rings of the government’s relaxation and censorship of years prior. The door was opened, (relaxation) and many Jewish people took advantage, becoming the wealthy sector that they did. Once they became wealthy, jealousy pervaded and they became the scapegoat for social ills. Needless to say, the turn the resulting “censorship” took has become the archetype of all historical horror.
It’s interesting that Germany was not the European hotbed of anti-Semitism in the late 19th century. Kitchen notes that “France, Russia, and Austria-Hungary far outbid Germany as centers of anti-Semitism, and the sneaky underhanded English brand of anti-Semitism was probably even more pernicious.” This conjures images of Russian pogroms and the notorious Dreyfus Affair. Jews were protected by the law in Germany, and were thus able to make their way up the social ladder through institutions like banking, the stock market, and the media. In 1908, 10 of the top 11 wealthiest citizens of Berlin were Jewish.
In a cruel catch-22, it is that very allowance of capital gain that spawned hatred for the German Jew. A successful community that always has the label of “the other” will naturally garner envy and insecurity. Envy and insecurity lead to fear, and fear leads to hatemongering. The mongering took off with a new kind of scientific anti-Semitism, which took the place of the traditional religious brand. Eugen Duhring’s ”The Jewish Question as a Racial, Moral and Cultural Problem,” published in 1881, embodies such ridiculous pseudo-science, in which the Jewish populace is viewed as biologically threatening. The classic role of scapegoat was also quite prominent. Jewish speculators were blamed for the 1874 stock exchange crash, and capitalism itself was denounced as Jewish. Fear of modernity led to hatred of the Jew.
Despite isolated violence, and the anti-Semitic theorizing of the day, the German Jewish community was doing well up to and after the turn of the 19th century, as “their rights were guaranteed by the law, upheld by the government, and supported by most political parties.” German Jews achieved prominence in society and wealth, embracing their German heritage all the while. Their success and doom rings of the government’s relaxation and censorship of years prior. The door was opened, (relaxation) and many Jewish people took advantage, becoming the wealthy sector that they did. Once they became wealthy, jealousy pervaded and they became the scapegoat for social ills. Needless to say, the turn the resulting “censorship” took has become the archetype of all historical horror.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Pan-German Pandemonium
History grants the uncanny power of hindsight, a power at its most intoxicating when considering the dynamic past of Germany. But the story of pre-unified Germany is an overwhelming blend of different lands involved in varying political and social efforts, so that it can be difficult to ascertain a big picture of pre-unified trends. In lieu of the post-Napoleonic tug-of-war between reform and reaction throughout the German states, ideologies and actions must be reconciled to understand unification.
Before the (violent) realization of the German nation, liberal and radical movements were associated with unification. Conservatives desired to uphold the existing order, a stagnancy which brought unpopularity. Prussia would alter this trend by ushering in its “New Era” of conservatism. Bismarck’s realpolitik, with its basis in conservative ends through revolutionary means, provided strong impetus for unification that separated itself from the dreamers on the left, who suffered from crippling intransigence. For example. . .
Kant’s unrealistic argument that freedom must come through ideals and obligations, not politics or society, found a critic in Karl Marx. The German utopians of the left were also pointedly derided by Marx, who wrote that “Philosophy of [their] ilk. . . bore the same relationship to social change as masturbation to sexual intercourse.” Quick to criticize, Marx’s vision was impractical in its own right, as the class of industrial workers he championed had yet to actually materialize. Disorganization was the handicap of the German left.
However, later influential liberal voices, like Lassalle’s, left meaningful marks through, say, the promise of universal manhood suffrage. In the 1860’s, the Prussian left would also be aided by their willingness to compromise in the face of the “autocratic military monarchy” Bismarck maintained. The collective post-Napoleonic mindset projected a wariness of stark egalitarianism, as liberals moved more and more to the right, where a distrust of the masses pervaded.
Perhaps confusion is best disposed of if nineteenth century Germany is viewed as a host of two inevitabilities: industrialization and unification. The post-1840 growth of a capitalist industrial society brought about increasing polarization between the town and countryside, and a growing (destitute) proletariat class. Lassalle, who it is interesting to note got along with Bismarck but not Marx, argued that the working class would be subject to absolute squalor until they organized with state support (Lassalles’s initiative- the ADAV). It was all too clear that a German nation would be necessary for popular appeasement, though how this would happen and who this would ultimately include proved an ongoing debate. The ideological tumult does have a fitting resolution, as Kitchen reminds us many times in "Struggle for Mastery"- Germany would be crafted with ". . . conservative ends by means that were far from conservative."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)