Germany 1945-1949: A Sourcebook

Germany 1945–1949

The period 1945–1949 is generally acknowledged as a critical period for the German people and their collective history. But it did not, Manfred Malzahn argues, lead inevitably to the construction of the Berlin Wall. As in 1989, so in 1945 the German people were prepared to break away from established patterns, to reassess, if need be, what it meant to be German. Then as now, Germans East and West wanted order and stability, food, shelter, clothing and work. Using numerous documents from the immediate post-war years, Malzahn rescues the period from the burden of selective hindsight and nostalgia that has obscured the contemporary situation. The documents, which have been fully annotated, reflect life at all levels from politics to fashion, and contain both Allied and German viewpoints. These are bound together by an emphasis on communication, on Allied/German interaction, and on the Germans’ dialogue with their past and expression of their aspirations.

Germany 1945–1949 will be an invaluable sourcebook for all students of modern German and European history, and their teachers. Many of the documents included were previously unavailable to English-speaking students, and the text is illustrated with over twenty black and white photographs. Manfred Malzahn, born and educated in West Germany, has taught at the University of Edinburgh, at the University of Monastir, Tunisia, and at the University of Sétif, Algeria. He is currently lecturer in English Literature at the University of Malawi, Zomba. He has written extensively on Scotland and Scottish literature.

Germany 1945–1949 A sourcebook

Manfred Malzahn

London and New York

First published 1991 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge a division of Routledge, Chapman and Hall, Inc. 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2003. This collection © 1991 Manfred Malzahn All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Malzahn, Manfred Germany 1945–1949: a sourcebook. 1. Germany, 1945–1949 I. Title 943.0874 ISBN 0-203-40209-X Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-71033-9 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0-415-00840-9 (Print Edition) Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Malzahn, Manfred, 1955– Germany 1945–1949: a sourcebook/Manfred Malzahn. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-415-00840-9 1. Germany—History—Allied occupation, 1945—Sources. 2. Germany (West)—History—Sources. 3. Germany (East)— History—Sources. I. Title. DD257.M23 1991 90–9035 943.087′4–dc20 CIP

It is impossible to mention all the people who helped me put this volume together, but I owe special thanks to Paul Edwards of Edinburgh University, who knew that I had an idea for a book before I ever did, and to Catherine Bradley, formerly of Croom Helm publishers, who believed him.

Contents

Preface Acknowledgements Notes on German political parties The German question: history and semantics

ix x xiii 1

1 ‘Zero hour’

34

2 Partitions

53

3 Natives and aliens

71

4 Foundations of a ‘new’ society

90

5 Economic reorganisation

108

6 Homecomers and refugees

127

7 Transport and communication

148

8 The press

165

9 ‘Low’ culture

181

10 ‘High’ culture

200

11 Parties and trade unions

217

Index

233

vii

Preface

One possible definition of history as a discipline is the constant rewriting of the past, as the ever-changing present continually modifies perspectives. If writers are concerned with the fairly recent past and its direct influence on the present, they must be prepared for fairly radical changes between the inception of a book and its completion, and this was certainly the case with the present volume, conceived in 1987 and finally published four years later in a radically altered situation. After I had completed the introduction in the summer of 1989, I—as everybody else talking about contemporary Germany—found my statements constantly overtaken by current events. I was continually updating my introductory essay until May 1990 and could have carried on updating it, but instead, I have chosen to let it stand as a kind of historical document in its own right, which reflects a specific view from a specific vantage point in time, with all the limitations this implies. In any case, its main function is to highlight the importance of the material which follows, and its central thesis, i.e. that we are living in a period which has more than a superficial resemblance to the postwar years, seems to me more relevant than ever before. Central Europe is being reshaped, and the facts that are being created now will determine the shape of things to come in the foreseeable future, with the nature and the role of Germany being a key factor. The division of Germany which emerged between 1945 and 1949 both reflected and contributed to the partition of Europe; it remains to be seen whether a unified German state will contribute to the removal of partitions on a wider level. Much will depend on the ability of the Germans to create a state which is founded on a general consensus about democratic principles, and about Germany’s past.

Sétif, Algeria, 30 June 1990 ix

Acknowledgements

We are grateful to the following organisations and individuals for permission to reproduce texts:

1.1. 1.3. 1.4. 1.5. 1.6. 1.7. 1.8. 1.9. 2.1. 2.3. 2.4. 2.5. 2.6. 2.7. 2.8. 2.9. 3.1. 3.3. 3.4. 3.5. 3.6. 3.7. 3.8. 3.9. 4.1. 4.2. x

Oxford University Press, Oxford Klett-Cotta, Stuttgart Stadtarchiv Iserlohn Andreas K.Burghart, lawyer, receiver for Löwit Verlag S.Fischer Verlag, Frankfurt Atrium Verlag, Zurich Steven Main, Edinburgh, translator Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, Munich R.Oldenbourg Verlag, Munich Verlag Zeit im Bild, Dresden Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag Sweet & Maxwell, London Rolf Steininger, Innsbruck Archiv der sozialen Demokratie, Bonn Oxford University Press US Department of State, Washington A.Ballard, Paris University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois University of Illinois Press, Springfield, Illinois Hilde Behrend, Edinburgh Stadtarchiv Iserlohn Hilde Behrend Victor Gollancz, London Christopher Fyfe, Edinburgh Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland, Hanover University of Illinois Press

Acknowledgements

4.4. 4.6. 4.8. 4.9. 5.1. 5.3. 5.4. 5.5. 5.6. 5.7. 5.8. 5.9. 6.1. 6.2. 6.4. 6.5. 6.6. 6.9. 7.1. 7.2. 7.4. 7.5. 7.6. 7.8. 7.9. 8.1. 8.2. 8.3. 8.5. 8.7. 8.8. 8.9. 9.5. 9.6. 9.7. 10.2. 10.3. 10.4. 10.6. 10.7. 10.8.

xi

F.A.Brockhaus, Zurich Academy of Political Science, New York Berliner Kraft- und Licht- Aktiengesellschaft, Berlin Christopher Fyfe Houghton Mifflin, Boston US Department of State Aachener Nachrichten Paul Parey, Hamburg Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund, Düsseldorf US Department of State Hessische Landeszentrale für politische Bildung, Wiesbaden Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund Alice Johnstone, Northampton Landeszentrale für politische Bildung, Wiesbaden Verlag für internationale Politik, Bonn Der Spiegel, Hamburg a) and b) S.Fischer Verlag; c) Archiv der Rheinischen Friedrich-Wilhelms Universität, Bonn/R.Oldenbourg Verlag Suhrkamp, Frankfurt Dr W.-A.Kropat, Wiesbaden Postmuseum am Stephansplatz, Hamburg R.Oldenbourg Verlag Landeszentrale für politische Bildung Hans Werner Richter, Munich Diogenes, Zurich US Department of State Staatsverlag der DDR, Berlin Die Zeit, Hamburg Der Druckspiegel Langen/Müller, Munich Dietz Verlag, Berlin E.Kogon Erben, Königstein Leo Brawand, Hamburg/Der Spiegel Neues Deutschland, Berlin Der Spiegel Der Spiegel Hamburger Allgemeine Klett-Cotta Der Spiegel Hans Werner Richter Die Zeit B.Schott’s Söhne, Mainz

xii

Acknowledgements

10.9. 11.1. 11.2. 11.3. 11.4. 11.6. 11.7. 11.8. 11.9.

Hessische Landeszentrale für politische Bildung Pahl-Rugenstein, Cologne Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag Frankfurter Rundschau a) DVA, Stuttgart b) Adenauer-Stiftung, St Augustin Adenauer-Stiftung Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund Arnulf Baring, New York

We regret we have been unable to trace the copyright holders for the following texts: 1.2., 2.2., 3.2., 4.3., 4.5., 4.7., 5.2., 6.3., 6.7., 6.8., 7.3., 7.7., 8.4., 8.6., 9.1., 9.2., 9.3., 9.4., 9.8., 9.9., 10.1., 10.5., 11.5.

We are grateful to the Berlin Film Archive for supplying the picture on p.81 and to the Bundesarchiv, Koblenz, for supplying all the other pictures in the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to reproduce copyright material. If any proper acknowledgement has not been made, or permission not received, we would invite the copyright holder to inform us of the oversight.

Notes on German political parties

CDU CSU DVP

KPD NSDAP SED SPD

Christlich-Demokratische Union—Christian Democratic Union Christlich-Soziale Union—Christian Social Union, conservative Bavarian counterpart of the CDU Demokratische Volkspartei—Democratic People’s Party, a forerunner of the liberal Freie Demokratische Partei (or FDP)—Free Democratic Party Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands—German Communist Party National-Sozialistische Deutsche Arbeitspartei National Socialist German Workers’ Party Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands—Socialist Unity Party of Germany Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands—German Social Democratic Party Wirtschaftliche Flüchtlingspartei— Economic Refugee Party Zentrum—Catholic ‘Centre’ party, established in 1870

xiii

The German question: history and semantics

Born in Germany in 1955, I grew up with ‘the German question’. At the age of 5, I was scared when I first saw the border which people called die Zonengrenze—the zonal frontier. I understood that the question had something to do with it, and with the fact that our relatives in the East could not come to see us whenever they wanted to. Three years later, on 17 June, the ‘Day of German Unity’, our primary school teacher told us about the uprising in the Ostzone—the Eastern zone—ten years before. Russian soldiers had moved in against German civilians. I was angry at the Russians, but I had heard about another culprit whom the teacher had not mentioned, so I put up my hand and asked if the whole situation had not been Hitler’s fault, in the first place. I was told to shut up, and that I was too young to understand. I was angry because I could not see why we were officially being told about something we were too young to comprehend, and because I had gathered enough information to make me sure that what I had said did have something or other to do with German unity. But my question had obviously not been the German question which the teacher wanted to hear. In secondary school, our first form master encouraged us to enter contributions in a competition on the subject of ‘East and Middle Germany’. There were attractive prizes to be won, so I wrote an essay about Berlin. My historical and geographical knowledge increased in the process, but at the cost of a new semantic problem. By ‘Middle Germany’, the teacher meant the part across our Eastern border. Though it had a different name on the map, it was still commonly called die Ostzone, i.e. the Eastern zone. But the German East, to him, was those bits shown in our school atlas—1966 edition—as being ‘under Polish/Soviet administration’. The German question concerned them as well, he insisted. Germans had lived in 1

2

Germany 1945–1949

those Eastern provinces and had been driven out by Poles and Russians; an injustice which had to be repaired (see 2.4.; 6.4). This time I was less ready to be angry at the bad guys, and more cautious with my words. I asked what was to happen to the people living there now: the answer was pretty vague, and rather defensive. I did not bother trying the other question. More than twenty years have gone by since then, and quite a few things have changed. The maps in school atlases look different, and there are not so many teachers trying to make children feel patriotic about some far-off lands which most of their kids could hardly care less about. The point of view of the youngsters was not much different twenty-odd years ago, and Herr Hass must have realised that he was fighting a losing battle with most of us. Still he tried, with a kind of missionary zeal, to make us share his love for his lost homeland, and that of other expellees and refugees. I remember him as a kind and caring man, but also as totally impervious to the argument that the answer suggested by his way of putting ‘the German question’ would mean further injustices, heaped on top of bygone wrongs. In this context, the surname Hass—the German word for ‘hatred’—takes on an ironic meaning that escaped me at the time, though it might not have been lost on one of the Polish or Russian boys of my generation born and raised in those former German territories which Herr Hass was talking about. Let us forget about dotted lines, and accept the fact that there are now border guards who will demand your passport if you travel from Dresden to Wroclaw, but not if you go from Kaliningrad to Moscow. In the Warsaw and Moscow treaties of the 1970s, it was spelled out as clearly as it could have been at the time. Shouts about ‘the sell-out of German soil’ or of ‘German interests’ were raised, and enough emotion stirred up to make a last-minute failure of the agreements imaginable. This did not happen, maybe because for enough people the patriotic appeal of these accusations was cancelled out by their verbal illogicality. After all, it is extremely difficult to sell something which you have not got, and if all you sell is a claim, then the buyer is taking the risk as well as the responsibility. Still, plenty of citizens of the Federal Republic and plenty of its members of parliament had been taken in by slogans like those quoted above, and the progress of detente in Europe might have suffered immensely if they had had their way. The more recent equivocations of Helmut Kohl’s government are not quite as dangerous, but that is merely because circumstances have changed.

The German question: history and semantics

3

It is plain to see that Kohl’s refusal to recognise formally the post1945 Oder/Neisse frontier is just a half-hearted concession to a small minority in the Federal Republic of Germany, a minority which will continue to be ever more of an anachronism, and likewise continue to grow smaller. The zealots who would like to see Silesia or the Memelland regermanised are literally becoming extinct, not only because of the changed climate, but also because of old age and death. The majority of East and West Germans recognise the need for unconditional and unambiguous statements as to the inviolability of Poland’s current borders. ‘The German question’ proper then concerns the territories of the Federal Republic, the GDR, and Berlin. The dramatic events of 1989 have rekindled the debate about the future of Germany, and now it is generally accepted that this future will come under the heading of ‘reunification’, a word that gives rise to mixed feelings in Germany and abroad. For more than three decades, the idea could be discussed with the safe assumption that it was not a practicable option under the circumstances: now, in a radically changed situation, old hopes and fears have re-emerged. The indirect question has turned into a direct one. Previously, West German politicians had in general preferred to refer to the issue in a more oblique manner, either by paying lip-service to the constitutional commitment to German unity, or by talking about concrete aspects of the relationship between the two German states, or simply by trying to ignore it and to get on with more pressing business. In the first case the question behind the statements was merely rhetorical, in the second merely technical; in the latter case, the subject could appear as a taboo. It was slightly more complicated than that, though: there was a taboo on both sides, but in West Germany, to respect it meant to say the right thing at the right time, whereas to do nothing was— as in the case of William Tell who refused to bow to the governor’s hat—a violation of the rules. Early in 1989, a member of the Alternative List, coalition partner of the Social Democrats in the new government of West Berlin, refused to repeat a formal annual pledge, which she was expected to read out on behalf of the senate. The statement, originally made by the Social Democrat Governing Mayor Willy Brandt in the 1950s, talked of bringing down the Wall and reuniting the city. The refusal to perform the ritual repetition, which met with plenty of righteous indignation, was grounded on the claim that after three decades that act had become an anachronism.

4

Germany 1945–1949

The irony is that only a few months later, the Wall did indeed come down, and Willy Brandt was there to see it. Now it may seem as if there was a causality, as if those who insisted on verbal pledges to German unity were right, and the incantations had cast a magic spell which finally worked. But if a magician repeated a spell for more than thirty years without any palpable effect, people would tend to form a fairly low opinion of his magical powers, and the final success of the trick would most probably be attributed to other factors. Right-wing attempts to make the breakthrough appear as a consequence of right-wing steadfastness, are merely the political equivalent of the kind of profiteering that went on with concrete relics. The people who are selling pieces of the Berlin Wall are not necessarily the ones who brought it down. The foundations for progress in the East were mainly laid in the East itself, and the main contribution made by the West was in the area of detente, spearheaded by a West German government to which the Christian Democrats were vehemently opposed at the time, and whose foreign policy they inherited only willy-nilly in the person of Hans-Dietrich Genscher. These days, Genscher is busy trying to reassure the world that German unity is nothing to be worried about. While it was still safe to talk about it, support for this goal could be found quite easily; in reality, most of the prophets of German unity and their audience abroad and at home did not want anything drastic to happen. Now that there is a real chance for changing the status quo, there is considerable hysteria coupled with the euphoria. German unity is back on the agenda: and those who shouted the loudest in favour of unity are often the first to cry wolf, and warn about the danger of destabilising the West. All that they can think of as desirable is a swallowing up of the GDR by the Federal Republic, politically and economically. The population of the GDR roughly equals that of Northrhine-Westphalia, so there will be no undue indigestion—just a slight extension of EC and NATO territory. The hypocrisy of insisting on the goal of German unity, and at the same time on the retention of the existing bloc structure, is now being exposed as the promotion of a contradiction in terms. Both blocs are crumbling, and they need to crumble: on the military front, Belgium took the initiative in 1990 by announcing plans to remove its troops from West Germany, indicating that other countries may go it alone if they think that the disarmament process is going too slowly, and that the defence effort to which they are asked to contribute is still grossly inflated, in spite of changed

The German question: history and semantics

5

circumstances. Economically, the vision of an extended European Community looms large, with plenty of prospective new members knocking on the doors. Plenty of Western strategians applaud the second option while rejecting the first, but they will eventually have to realise that you cannot separate one side of a coin from the other without rendering the specie valueless. The new GDR government has made it quite clear that NATO will have to change substantially before it could think of joining up, and after all, Czech president Vaclav Havel’s suggestion of an all-European security system to replace both NATO and Warsaw Pact offers a more logical plan for action. The military allegiance of a united Germany is a bone of contention under present-day conditions: it need not be so under altered circumstances. Two blocs that were based on ideological distinctions, and glued together by the threat of mutual extinction, simply cannot survive intact the disappearance of the distinctions and the threat. Their dissolution is inevitable; meanwhile, Germany is as good a place as any to start with the reduction of troop levels, and the removal of nuclear weapons. The hardline thinkers in East and West have their reservations. They hate to see the emergence of a world which is more complex than their simplistic categories would allow: those who maligned the other side the most, needed them the most. To the hypocrites, the Feindbild, the image of the enemy, was a necessity, and its disappearance is a disaster. From the point of view of West German conservatives, the world was all right as long as the GDR apparently remained immune to the ideas of glasnost and perestroika. But as the short-lived government under Egon Krenz gave in to internal pressure and began to make more and more concessions to the wishes of East Germany’s citizens for far-reaching reforms, the GDR seemed to start out on a process that should lead to its losing its usefulness as a negative foil for West German complacency. As such, it has been of vital importance. ‘Geh doch nach drüben’, roughly translatable as ‘why don’t you sod off to the other side,’ was for many years the standard reply to anyone who dared to criticise West German society. On the one hand, it was a convenient way of discrediting unwelcome truths, by assigning every dissenter to the enemy camp. But there was always a certain aptitude in the phrase, which was why it was such a popular one: critics of West Germany would have had an easier job, if they could have pointed towards a more attractive East German state by way of comparison. The rush towards reunification is partly motivated by the desire

6

Germany 1945–1949

to prevent this from happening. What if the GDR decided not to become a part or a carbon copy of the Federal Republic, but to turn into a model of democratic socialism? For a short period, the vision stood—a source of hope for some GDR citizens, and of anxiety for some West German politicians. These applauded New Forum and all the other activists of the East German revolution, and quietly hoped that they would not have to deal with such independent, undogmatic, and undaunted people in the future. The result of the elections in March 1990 has allayed their fears. The majority of East Germans are ready to follow the yellow brick road towards Western prosperity; their representatives are of a more conventional breed. But still, current GDR politicians are still new enough to the game to be likely to dish out one or two surprises. Unification may be on their banners, but this may not be the unconditional sell-out which Kohl and his team would want. Even if it is to disappear in the future, a separate sense of identity still exists on the part of both German republics’ inhabitants. When they had crossed the Austro-Hungarian border in their own cars, emigrants from the GDR in the autumn of 1989 frequently deleted two letters on their ‘DDR’ sticker straight away, leaving only the ‘D’ in the middle. But this ‘D’ stands not really for ‘Deutschland’, but for the Federal Republic of Germany, a country with a strongly developed sense of a common economic interest that unites its citizens, not simply as ‘Germans’ but as Bundesbürger. Two nationalities still exist in practice, and as a significant share of West Germans closes ranks against the influx of foreigners, Germanspeaking immigrants from the East and other outsiders are viewed with increasingly similar suspicion. GDR citizens who were greeted with ostentatious warmth at the border are not really an exception. If they began to compete with people who have long been on the lookout for a reasonably-priced apartment, then they were liable to get a different impression, and many of them will certainly in turn become suspicious of new immigrants and asylum-seekers in their new Republic, once they have become West Germans. After all, both German countries know the phenomenon of Ausländerfeindlichkeit, hostility towards foreigners, whether they are Turks in the West or Vietnamese in the East. The rich West Germans, on the whole, are willing to help everybody in the world by giving alms: but they are happiest to do so if those people stay where they are, and that includes their ‘brothers and sisters’ in the East, too. ‘Stay put’ is the message directed at GDR citizens from all factions, ‘don’t ring us—we’ll

The German question: history and semantics

7

ring you.’ Whether the message is followed will depend on how quickly East Germans can be supplied with Volkswagens. Ultimately, the notion of millions of GDR citizens flooding into the Federal Republic is a nightmare for West German citizens and politicians, as well as for those on the other side. Some are welcome, but there is a limit—and the most fervent West German nationalists seem to have the narrowest view of this limit, when it comes to practicalities. A poll by Infas (the Institute for Applied Social Sciences) in September 1989 showed that the percentage of people who disapproved of East German emigrants being settled in their own home town was highest among supporters of the extreme rightwing Republicans: a revealing irony. But the flow might well increase again. Until recently, there were plenty of GDR citizens who would have thought more than twice even about risking their steady jobs, their cheap housing, and their general sense of security, for the chance to join in the rat-race of the West. As East Germany abandons socialism, however, there is the danger that those few but central economic benefits which the old system provided will be lost, before the expected greater benefits of a new system can be realised. This is the main reason for emigration from the GDR now, and the main reason for people who stay to favour wholesale integration of the GDR into the Federal Republic. Material assets are what interests most East Germans more than anything else just now, and to get at them, any shortcut will do. The development of a new kind of society, the risks and pains and discussions involved in this process, are at best seen as necessary evils. Many East Germans now put results before debate, affluence before democracy. In a way, we are back on square one. After 1945, most Germans in East and West proved to be willing to settle for any kind of order that would provide them with food, shelter, clothing, and employment. Criticism of the new regimes was likely to arise where they failed to meet those standards, and was bound to subside where material needs were catered for. The fundamental social debate was thus soon abandoned in favour of a new rigidity; after the collapse, any kind of stability was likely to be seen as preferable to extended chaos. Are the 1990s going to see a repeat performance in the GDR? There are indications that seem to be pointing in this direction. However, the differences that have developed between the two countries should make the disappearance of the GDR into a greater Federal Republic less smooth and traceless than envisaged. Those who cross the border between East and West Germany

8

Germany 1945–1949

still find themselves in a very different country from the one they left behind. There are divergences even at a linguistic level. East and West Germans appear to speak the same language, even if not all lexical items are identical. Fried chicken, for instance, goes by the name of Hähnchen on one side of the border, while on the other it is called Broiler—ironically, the word borrowed from English is the name used in the East. Those differences may well be regarded as dialect distinctions within one and the same tongue; the difficulties they create are easy to overcome in communication, if one is prepared to enlarge one’s vocabulary. More significant is the fact that the same lexical items mean different things in context. East and West Germans use the same language, but have been talking about different realities. In a conversation between strangers, West or East Germans will normally be able to come up with a fairly quick assessment of each other in terms of his or her position inside the spectrum of their own society’s stratifications, political opinions, and cultural tastes. Even if that is not the topic of conversation, certain linguistic markers will give sufficient indications: words and phrases that connote value judgements. This is a code that one learns with one’s mother tongue, but its limit is the limit of the society one grows up in. In political terms, the fact that Modrow and Kohl appeared to speak the same language was rather a hindrance than a help in communication, as long as the two societies they represented were built on radically different principles. A merger between the two German states presupposes a situation where the semantics of words like liberty’, ‘democracy’ and ‘justice’ are agreed on by both sides, or where at least, orthodox and non-orthodox definitions can be mutually aligned and defined. This presupposes a substantial change in the political thinking and the political rhetoric of not only one, but both countries: the current process seems to favour such a change, but there is still plenty of resistance. Change is something that the orthodoxy in the Federal Republic has always feared almost as much as the rulers of the GDR. The West German state, by definition a provisional construct, has in practice striven for stability and permanence. The student revolt of the late 1960s, and the rising of the Peace Movement and the Greens in the 1980s, have equally given rise to panic, and prophecies of doom. But the Federal Republic has succeeded in integrating the forces of change into the system, the second time round under their own parliamentary label. The regime of the GDR, for nearly four

The German question: history and semantics

9

decades a country without any organised opposition, prepared its own downfall by trying to shut out any potential rebelliousness. The new rulers should now be judged according to how well they preserve the rebellious spirit in a position of power, i.e. the extent to which they can challenge West Germans who want to see a wholesale export of their economic and political organisation, to a critical review of their own society. These days, it is far too easy for citizens of the Federal Republic to forget that a country which has produced Baader/Meinhof terrorism, substantial long-term unemployment, and a resurgence of neo-fascist opinion is not paradise, in spite of the tears of joy cried by Eastern emigrants who arrived in the promised land. There are changes afoot: to say anything beyond that would be mere speculation at this stage. The self-dissolution of the GDR is just one element in these changes, which will eventually result in a united Germany. Not a re-united one, though; for a reunification, a Wiedervereinigung, is semantically impossible as the two German states as such were never united before. The users of this term seem to imply that they are thinking of the recreation of something that actually existed: a quick look at the options is enough to suggest that it would have to be something radically new and radically different. Still, ‘reunification’ is the key term used by West Germans who want to promote the fulfilment of the First Commandment given in the preamble to the Federal Republic’s Basic Law. A reference to this text has frequently implied the claim that, somehow, politicians in the West have the right to speak and act on behalf of people in the East. However, this has never been tried and tested; and although the outcome of the GDR elections on 18 March 1990 was interpreted as a vote for Kohl’s CDU as well as for de Maizière’s, this cannot simply be taken for granted. What appears as a fact, though, is that the West German government acts is if it had a mandate from GDR citizens, and as though its counterparts in negotiations were somehow not to be taken quite seriously as representatives of a sovereign state. At this point, it is important to look at post-war history. The game of ‘let’s pretend’ was a legacy of the cop-out fundamentalism of the Adenauer era, during which the Federal Republic constructed a theory known as the Hallstein doctrine. The establishment of diplomatic relations between the GDR and a third state was regarded as an unfriendly act against the Federal Republic, and was to be followed by a withdrawal of West Germany’s diplomats

10

Germany 1945–1949

from that third state. If this policy had been carried out with any degree of determination, the Federal Republic would have become isolated from a substantial part of the world. But this risk seems to have appeared as acceptable at the time: the question is, what was to be gained by it? On the surface, the Hallstein doctrine was supposed to uphold the idea of national unity. It is important to remember that in Adenauer’s days, lip-service to the principle of national unity was more than a half-hearted kow-tow to the Basic Law’s preamble. While there was still the faintest chance of an alternative development in central Europe, it provided an alibi for a policy which in effect precluded any but the one path: pretending to keep ‘the German question’ open, and at the same time making sure that it was closed for the foreseeable future. The Hallstein doctrine was directed at dividing foreign states into those who would regard the Federal Republic as the only representative of Germany (friendly), and those who would recognise the GDR as a second German state (unfriendly). It was a means towards establishing a correlation between allegiance to the US or the Soviet bloc, and the stance on Germany. Instead of closing the gap between East and West, its intended effect was to draw demarcation lines even where there had been no clear division before. If the division of Germany was a consequence of the division of the world, this was an act of confirming this division by reversing the logic. Even if the doctrine bears the name of Walter Hallstein, it bears the hallmark of Konrad Adenauer. The first chancellor of the Federal Republic was creating facts and justifications in anticipated hindsight. The division of Germany was the condition for Western integration which Adenauer wanted. It had to be established because the West wanted it, but the East had to be blamed. It worked, especially when Adenauer rejected the last Soviet offer of a neutral, united Germany in 1952 on the spot. Now, of course, Western historians stress that one cannot be sure how sincere the proposal was; the point is that at the time, this could have been found out, but Adenauer seemed to be desperate to minimise the chance that anybody could give Stalin’s famous note any serious consideration. What most people remember now is not the actual inconsistency of Soviet policy on Germany during the Stalin era, which did leave room for manoeuvre. In retrospect, the orthodox Western view is that what happened was inevitable, and the West was only responding—the same position applies to the East, with reversed roles. Psychologists know that it is a natural tendency for people

The German question: history and semantics

11

to argue that they ‘knew it all along’, even if this can be proved wrong. But people who know it all beforehand are still more dangerous, for they can establish self-fulfilling prophecies. When Churchill first talked of an Iron Curtain, for instance, citizens of Berlin were still commuting quite happily between the East and the West of the city, and the zonal borders within the rest of Germany were nowhere near the monstrous reality of later days. Anybody who says that the West had no responsibility for the development that culminated in the building of the Berlin Wall, should read Paul Watzlawick’s book on The Pragmatics of Communication, and remember that chains of action, reaction, and counter-reaction can always be interpreted in two different ways, as any marriage counsellor or divorce lawyer knows. International relations ultimately rely on human communication as much as individual ones, and for communication failures there is always more than one interpretation. What is certain, though, is that to assume that a communication is doomed to failure is one of the best ways to make sure that it will fail. This is one of the connotations of the slogan ‘No experiments’, which could be read on Christian Democrat election posters in 1957, and which sums up the politics of the Adenauer era. It sounded straightforward and honest enough to take in more than 50 per cent of the voters, but semantically, it appears as ambivalent, or as a simple lie. Adenauer was certainly doing his best to prevent any joint experiment with the East, and any experiment in changing the economic basis of pre-war society. But he was taking a risk by pushing ahead with western integration, the risk that the division of Germany would become virtually irreversible, and that the German question would remain a source of East/West conflict. The semantic trick was to present one of two possible risks as a safe option; to proclaim one possible development, in contrast with the alternatives, as non-experimental. But had not the Federal Republic started off as an experiment, and been declared a provisorium? And what else than an experiment was the rearmament of 1956, and what else than willingness to conduct a very dangerous experiment could one call the declared intention to supply nuclear arms to the Bundeswehr, proclaimed in the election year with the Keine Experimente slogan? In the 1950s, the majority of West German citizens were not too hot on picking up such contradictions. The majority seemed to buy the new propaganda whole-heartedly, while they continued to play at being ‘more American than the Americans’: a statement the

12

Germany 1945–1949

Christian Democrat politician Jakob Kaiser (see 11.4.b) made about Konrad Adenauer’s behaviour in 1952. But it seems that a majority of today’s West Germans, including the Christian Democrat government, are no longer willing to put Western solidarity above everything else, and are ready to urge their NATO allies to adapt to a changing situation. The GDR government was for a long time in the opposite role, holding on to what it knew as orthodox Soviet patterns of thought, at a time when these were changing in the Soviet Union. But East Germany’s citizens, who never tried to become Russians anyway in quite the same way that West Germans went for what they saw as American culture and American lifestyle, have shown themselves equally ready for change. What it all boils down to is that fewer Germans than before see the existence of their countries as the potential battleground for two military blocs as a God-given fact for all eternity. There are still those in the East and the West who see mene tekel written all over the wall at every mention of concepts such as ‘demilitarisation’ or ‘neutrality’, but more and more Germans are asking the question whether it is more rational to worry about warheads, or about ideas. If strategic exercises are based on the assumption that a limited nuclear war can be fought on central European territory, the people inhabiting this territory have the right to feel threatened, and to complain. If the leader of the power which is supposed to be threatening them proposes the elimination of that species of nuclear weapons which makes such war games possible, they have the right to feel pleased, and to demand negotiations about the issue. These reactions are based on justified emotions, and sensible conclusions, however loud the cries of ‘Gorbymania’, and the doubts about the irrational core of the German soul. It is strange that such comments are only heard when the West Germans dare to phrase an independent opinion on defence matters, whereas they were of course being completely rational when they opted for rearmament and NATO in the first place. The topic of NATO membership is nowadays no longer a taboo; people may support membership of the Western alliance, but they may still demand a perpetual reassessment of its function and its policies. At the beginning of the 1990s, the populations of both Germanies are ready to give their governments a hard time, if they are not prepared to be at the forefront of the push for disarmament. There is hardly any comparison with the late 1960s, when the protest mood and quite a few of the issues were imported from abroad, and therefore not of immediately recognisable relevance

The German question: history and semantics

13

to the majority of citizens in the Federal Republic. The 1980s have brought a new critical spirit with a much broader support, for the key issues are the vital interests of the people living on both sides of the frontline of a potential nuclear conflict. The renewed debate about ‘the German question’ should be seen within this context. The widespread and radical review of established notions in Germany coincided with a renewed interest in the post-war years. There has been an unprecedented spate of books, media coverage, exhibitions and speeches. The fortieth anniversaries of the two German states may explain this to an extent, but the deeper reason is that the 1980s had more in common with the post-1945 years than with any other period during the past four decades in German history. There was a renewed openness, the courage to break away from established patterns, and an awareness of the need to reassess what being German is all about. There was a renaissance of a fundamental anti-militarism, and there was the question of what to make of the past, and how to deal with the present. But as in the post-war years, the positive features of the public debate on the brink of the 1990s were accompanied by more sinister ones. To clarify this, I would like to apply four labels to different forms of interest in the post-war period: revisionist, apologetic, nostalgic, and imaginative. The revisionist aspect has been obvious in what is known as the ‘historians’ debate’ in the Federal Republic. The opinion which fuelled this debate was based on the assumption that the years after 1945 brought a complete break with the past, and that it was high time the Germans stopped feeling they had to regard their own history in any different way from any other European nation. There is an obvious link to the resurgence of extreme rightwing thought, and to the number of votes parties such as the National Democrats and the Republicans have been able to muster in recent elections. In this respect, revisionism appears exclusively as a Western problem, but one might also consider the way in which the East proclaimed virtually the entire population of the GDR to be the rightful descendants of anti-fascism, as an earlier version of such a collective decontamination. Although there denazification was more complete than in the West, the least that the GDR inherited from the years before 1945 was more than a fair share of authoritarianism, and a spirit of compliance and acquiescence, rather than the virtues of critical thought and civilian courage. The apologetic aspect is closely linked to the former, in suggesting

14

Germany 1945–1949

a one-sided and simplistic interpretation of events in and around post-war Germany. Here, there was a complete parallel between Eastern and Western positions regarding the attribution of blame for the lasting division of Germany, and the respective raison d’être of either German state. In each case, it was the others who started it—and both sides could come up with fairly plausible explanations. The situation recalls the Jewish joke about a wonderfully wise Rabbi who is asked to arbitrate in a legal quarrel. He listens to the plaintiff, and tells him, ‘You are right.’ Then he listens to the defendant, and finally tells him, ‘You are right.’ When his disciple remarks that they could not possibly be both right, the Rabbi thinks for a while and says, ‘You are right as well.’ I would side with the Rabbi in saying that contradictory statements do not have to be mutually exclusive, and that a good look at the facts might well resolve the deadlock, as much as it might be a safeguard against facile falsifications of historical truth. In case of the two Germanies’ views of their history, an opening up of attitudes to accommodate facts that do not fit in with orthodox patterns, is a condition for real progress. In the West, ‘alternative’ views of post-war history are expressed, and the evidence is accessible, but what most people seem to remember is a lopsided black-and-white image, and as we know at least since Sellar and Yeatman’s 1066 and All That: ‘all other history defeats itself.’ In the East, the official version was for a long time not even complemented by alternative publications, until it ceased to be the official one, and left the way open for reassessment. The revisionist attitude is: ‘After 1945, there was nothing to be ashamed of, and if there was, that, too, does not concern us.’ The apologetic one can be summed up as: ‘If things went wrong, it was the other side’s fault, and we have since made the best of it.’ The common element is the admission that the post-war reality was not all it should have been, which, after all, would have been hard to deny. This is where the nostalgic interest in the period comes in, which I would characterise by the formula: ‘Hard times, but people were happier.’ The idealisation of the lean years is another one-sided interpretation. There is something attractive about the pioneer spirit, the improvisation, the genuine freedom of those days: but the pioneering work had to be done because of the previous destruction, and the freedom was too often the freedom from a home, a job, a husband, or a mother. There is a sense of very fundamental human experience about the period, but for too many people, there was

The German question: history and semantics

15

simply a lot of suffering and only occasionally the moment of epiphany which unusual or extreme circumstances can produce. However, the further removed from it they are, the fonder people become of hardship that is past. Selective memory highlights the good things, and eventually ‘in spite of may be converted into ‘because of deprivation’, as in the following quote from a book called Ten Reasons to Stop Eating Meat:1 The period after 1945 was one of economic difficulty for Germany. In spite of the deprivations they suffered, the people talk about it enthusiastically. There was hardly any meat at all. To provide food was an adventure with plants. The cake made of potato peel has long become legendary, as well as the peculiar sense of well-being which bound people together. They were animated and moved, were still able to enter into fulfilling relationships with one another. In the same book, the author of this passage waxes as lyrical about the perfect consistency of his own excrement as he does about human relationships in post-war Germany. I cannot help thinking that this juxtaposition suggests a fairly short name for his social theory. People were poor, and poverty can only be romanticised from a safe distance; you can enjoy baking a cake with potato peel precisely if you do not have to. And though it is possible for human beings to practise a kind of solidarity in common destitution, it is no secret that there is also a correlation between crime and poverty, which evidence from the period supports. For the benefit of those who abstain from meat: I do not want to discredit their eating habits, but I feel that the nostalgic view of post-war German vegetarianism is a bit blinkered, considering that the peel-eaters tended to be fairly reluctant, and far less than fit and healthy. Even if one accepts that they really were ‘more animated and moved’ during that time, could this not also be attributed to other factors, e.g. that they spent less time in overheated rooms, or that not all of them covered their feet in animal hide? So much for positive nostalgia. But there is also a negative one, founded on the view of the post-war years as a period of missed chances. The crucial factor is that the creation of a united, democratic, demilitarised Germany had not been achieved, but there is also the feeling that too few individuals fully realised the potential for change within their own lives, that they were only too happy to return to familiar patterns as soon as possible. One case in point is the role of

16

Germany 1945–1949

women in post-war society: there was a degree of self-confidence on the part of women which has a lot in common with the present situation, but very little with the decades in between. The importance of women in the economic reconstruction provided the background to utterances such as ‘The male state of yesterday has been shipwrecked’:2 from a female Christian Democrat politician, to boot. If women had not permitted a complete reversal to traditional male dominance, at least the social history of Germany might have taken a radically different course. The nostalgic angle with its focus on missed opportunities may result in resignation on the part of the beholder, but it also has some positive potential, if used in an imaginative way. Imaginative’ is my fourth label characterising a specific kind of interest in the post-1945 period, for which I will name a work of fiction as an example. I would not like to limit the category to the domain of fiction, but would like to include all efforts at an imaginative recreation of this recent brief but important episode in history. The book I quoted above, a collage of biographical narrative, recipes, historical essays and newspaper clippings, comes into the same category. The common element is the placing of the reader in a context where he has some possibility of identification with people in a situation that required original thinking, and difficult decisions of a practical and a moral kind. The critical identification with history is also the goal of several ‘history workshops’ in the Federal Republic, where non-orthodox historians are trying to help people reconstruct the past reality on a local level. Occasionally, the reconstruction is even a literal one, in the form of a model town for instance;3 but in any case, the emphasis of the Geschichtswerkstätten is on encouraging the act of recreation of the past, which matters as much as the result. Historical fiction is potentially able to fulfil a similar task; the novel I would like to name as an example is Schwarzenberg by Stefan Heym (formerly Helmut Flieg), a prominent GDR author. It is a fictional expansion of a historic incident or rather non-incident: the temporary non-occupation of a small German town on the Czechoslovakian border after the end of hostilities. What emerges from Heym’s book is the hint at the difficulties, but also the fascinating possibilities of a situation without a succession of absolute rulers—Nazi Party today, Allied Military tomorrow—but a real vacuum. In the fictional Schwarzenberg, people cannot simply shift allegiances and take their orders from the new authorities, because there are none if they do not set them up themselves. They

The German question: history and semantics

17

cannot run to lick the new power’s boots if they have been guilty of involvement in the criminal activities of the former rulers, but they have to seek exculpation from those against or amongst whom they have committed crimes. Everything is more complicated than under Allied occupation, but it does feel like a fresh start. At the end of Heym’s novel, as in reality, the Republic of Schwarzenberg is finally taken over by Soviet military: it remains a unique and short-lived freak of history. But in reality, there were many Schwarzenbergs on a more modest scale, places where local anti-fascist committees collectively known as Antifas (see 11.1.) had tried to act as though their country had just been liberated. Whatever the occupying power, their illusion was short-lived. Denazification and democratis-ation were ordered by the Allies rather than instigated by Germans, and this, however good the intentions were, could not have the same effect. It was maybe too much to ask of the victorious nations to let a people whose majority had supported, tolerated, aided and abetted the Nazi regime merely get on with their own business, hoping the ideologically sound ones—differently defined, of course, in East and West—would call the shots, and the rest would have learned from bitter experience. This was not allowed to happen, even at local level, and speculation on ‘what if’ might be regarded as a waste of time. But consider what really came to pass: the conversion of the same people into trustworthy allies, stout defenders of Western democracy and socialism respectively, in less than a decade. Sure, this operation depended on remote control, although once the two republics had been set up, the Adenauers and Ulbrichts within Germany made sure that a bare minimum of direct foreign influence was required. The guided conversion was less risky, in other words, but was the quick result any less miraculous than maybe a slower, but more thorough process of self-propulsion? Be that as it may, it seems that one legacy of the chosen path was a widespread non-identification with the new ideology in East and West, a formal acceptance with little conviction and in some cases, with severe misgivings (see 4.9.). The imaginative look at the post-war period might help to ensure a greater identification with the present, a clearer realisation of its deficiencies as well as its potential. It should help Germans with the task that came to be referred to as Vergangenheitsbewältigung, a term which means not only coming to terms with the past, but coping with it, mastering it, making sure that it is neither forgotten nor repressed, but that lessons are learned from it. There is no

18

Germany 1945–1949

ground for the assumption that while the political reality in Europe is still recognisably the legacy of the war, this can be anything but a Sisyphean exercise. But so far, this exercise has been carried out in often too restricted a fashion, by focusing exclusively on the years of Nazi rule. Post-war generations have been presented with an official story that makes it hard to identify with any of the prominent characters in it, villains, victims, or heroes: the villains were bad, the victims were weak, and the heroes self-sacrificing but unsuccessful. How could they imagine themselves in this, and where do parents and grandparents come into the picture? Many of them found it hard to talk about the past, because of the very same difficulty in the limited number of roles in which they could see and present themselves as individuals. Hence, much remained unsaid, and the period of fascist dictatorship as presented to post-war generations lacked the human reality which should have complemented that conveyed in history lessons. As it was, the direct connection between national and individual history tended to remain less than palpable for too many people. In a book on parent/child relationships,4 Alice Miller relates the alienation between the generations in post-war Germany to this lack of communication at family level, and the resulting neuroses, in a particularly impressive manner. One of the cases she mentions is that of an anorexic girl who, at seventeen years of age, was proud to weigh exactly the same as her mother, an inmate of Auschwitz, at the end of the war. What is significant is that the weight at the time of her rescue was just about the only fact that the girl knew for sure about this part of her mother’s past. The point Miller makes is that it is the unspoken which has the most detrimental effect. In this respect, a look at the post-war years can provide an indirect access to what went before. Before amnesia set in on a large scale in the 1950s, while people were living in the debris of the Nazi state, the debate about the past, and by the same token about the future, already showed signs of forgetfulness, of self-deception, of easy mental escape routes. But it was still based on first-hand experience and individual response. If the contemporary debate on Germany’s past and future is to be more than theoretical, if it is to get through to individuals as something concerning the fundamentals of their existence, it must tap into those sources. If non-Germans really want to comprehend what the German debate is about, they should have a look at the same background. This collection is meant to provide English-speaking readers with source material from a time in German history in which the

The German question: history and semantics

19

foundations for the present reality were laid; a short but crucial period which has been rediscovered in Germany, while it is still neglected abroad. The average British citizen, almost regardless of his or her degree of education or sophistication, is prone to love taking part in the perpetual recreation of the war. This may happen in any form, from comic strip to comedy, from historiography to art, but the underlying image is the same: a gothic horror world where evil runs riot, but where the good guys win. The perception of the contemporary Germanies, on the other hand, is something completely different, hardly linked at all to pictures suggested by the voyeuristic fascination with Nazism. The question how it came to be this way, and what diverse roles the Allies had after 1945, is rarely asked. A possible reason is that the answer would be too complex. World War II, like no other war before, had divided the world into good and evil. In the previous global conflict, impartial observers could still recognise, through all the jingoism, that none of the nations involved had a claim to moral superiority. The second time round, it was a conflict in which morality played a part, although the victorious powers came very close to blurring the distinction in fighting fire with fire, casting all notions of chivalry aside and targeting the civilian population. As it was, the world could still see that the regime which had begun to eliminate a part of its own population was ultimately responsible for the escalation, and that the right side had won. But after the extreme polarisation, it seemed too tempting for some to set up a new black-and-white picture, instead of allowing shades of grey. George Orwell wrote about it in 1984, that is, about the redefinition of friends and enemies, and the resulting reinterpretation of history which is necessary in order to obliterate the contradictions. The manipulation of history is one way of obscuring facts by putting on interpretative patterns as filters. But there are less obtrusive, and hence more treacherous ways. Historical evidence may be arranged so as to present causality as inevitability, to justify what exists now. The other side of the same coin is to take the justification of the present as meaning that it is the only possible logical consequence of the past, and that the future can only be an extrapolation of the present. History itself does not work that way, but the minds of historians, politicians, and other human beings do. If you want to realise and exploit the full potential of historical change, then you have to escape the limitations of the process, and rely on the imagination of other possible realities.

20

Germany 1945–1949

The alternative to imaginative freedom is to force the world into a straitjacket of a fixed terminology. The key to the detection of this process, I believe, lies in language. People need words, and if they want to understand the world, they need a set of terms representing categories. But what they also need is a critical awareness of the very terms they use. In post-war Germany, as in no other place before or after, a large number of people felt that they had been misled by rhetoric, and that they owed it to themselves to not let it happen again. But the people who took this as a serious invitation to review the use of language (see 10.6.) were not enough. Those who had clear-cut sets of terms by which to interpret the world managed to convince others, and determine the future. As the West German writer Hanns Dieter Hüsch puts it, ‘there are those who have always talked a bit louder, and a bit faster than others.’ It does not mean that they are closer to the truth, that they see things more clearly: it only means that their language leaves no space for doubt, and a position of doubt, for some reason, is regarded as inferior to one of certainty. This is why an Adenauer could impose his views on a country the majority of whose citizens did not share them, to begin with— and I think anyone living in Britain these days should be able to recognise the process. Not even the majority of Adenauer’s own party supported his abhorrence of socialist ideas, and the Christian pro-socialists, for a while, sounded just as outspoken and as certain (see 11.4., 11.6.). But the way Adenauer created facts singlehandedly, and forced others to help justify them, brought the party and the country in line (see 11.9.). Similarly, an Ulbricht could create facts by taking the lead in the East, achieving the merger between Communists and Social Democrats which ensured that there was to be a one-party government (see 2.3). Adenauer’s rhetoric equated socialism and fascism, Ulbricht’s equated one-party rule with democracy. If they had looked at the facts, people should have known better: in spite of the name of the party, the National Socialist regime had arisen in a capitalist system and preserved a capitalist economy; in spite of its socialist economy, the Soviet Union had evolved into the Stalinist dictatorship. But once such ideological credos had been established as defining the positions of East and West Germany, the debate about fundamentals was decided. The story of Germany between 1945 and 1949, as I have tried to document it, is the story of this debate while it still held more, and radically different opportunities. It involved not only conscious

The German question: history and semantics

21

deliberation about the future of Germany, but at a more basic level, the attempt to put the present into words, to provide for post-war reality what some German linguists call ‘the wording of the world’, the transformation of an external reality into one that appears as manageable to those who inhabit it. Thus, every attempt to come to terms with the radically changed post-war world is part of the process of structuring, of ordering, and of ultimately of creating the new realities with which the Germans and the world are trying to live at present. As it stands, the citizens of the GDR are in the process of a rewording of their world, and 1989, for them, bore some resemblances to 1945. An old system went out, a new one came in, and once again the place was full of turncoats—Wendehälse— who claimed that all along they had been against the old and for the new. A few heads rolled—albeit metaphorically—to exculpate the rest. And now there is the mad scramble for material possessions, to soften the effects of the memory, and the conscience, while important decisions about the foreseeable future are being made somewhere, by someone. It has a very familiar ring to it, for a German who remembers the post-war period, or for one who, like me, got interested in it sufficiently to make some investigations. The publication of this book in Britain, where I lived and taught for three years, seems to me a necessary contribution to filling a gap between different images of Germany. All of the students who came for degree courses in German at Edinburgh University knew about Rommel and about Beckenbauer, but many of them arrived without knowing that to get to West Berlin from the Federal Republic you had to cross GDR territory. Even those who were not surprised by the revelation of this fact could hardly have explained how it had come about. If this is so with students of German, what kind of a basis is there for any more general understanding of German interests and views in Britain? Too often, German/British relations have been affected by mutual preconceptions rather than by mutual understanding, and by the application of far too simple a pattern of good and bad. One of the truths revealed by post-1945 evidence is that the relationship between Germans and members of the victorious nations had much potential for irony. Consider Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Gayre of Gayre and Nigg, who was employed in a Military Administration unit responsible for Education and Religious Affairs, devoting much of his time to a study which was ‘to prove by data

22

Germany 1945–1949

from skull measurements that the eastern Germans were racially Slavic and therefore belonged under Polish rule.’5 Whose side should he have been on, if the war was really a clear-cut matter of right vs. wrong, democracy vs. tyranny? It is important to remember that such formulas are rarely quite adequate to explain reality, however much they are loved by politicians. It is only a close look at present reality and that historical reality which explains it, which can provide a more balanced view on which to base statements about future possibilities. The current debate about the future of Germany should try and do justice to the complexity of the issues. In a sense, the Germans and the world have been given a second chance to establish a zone in central Europe where people and ideas travel freely in both directions, and where Germans can make their contribution to the creation of a Europe in which the cold war is truly nothing more than a memory of the past. THE DOCUMENTS: FROM CONFUSION TO CONVICTION

The story of post-war Germany is taken up in 1945, just before the final collapse of the Nazi regime. The end of the First World War had brought political changes, too: but this time the winners are wanting a thorough eradication of that system which has without any doubt been responsible for the renewed global conflict. The Allies move in to make sure it will never happen again: a result which—as shown by experience—cannot be ensured by military victory alone, but depends equally on what follows after. The Germans are waiting to see what the score is going to be this time round. Military defeat and material destruction are complete, and accompanied by mental disorientation; the world is being turned upside down, values disintegrate and certainties vanish. As it is all happening, people are not sure even when exactly the war and Nazi rule are over. There is no single ‘Zero Hour’, the fighting and the fascist terror stop at different times in different places. As in the case of the party official reported in Ernst jünger’s diary of 13 April (1.3.), to get one’s timing wrong can be lethal. Behind the Allied lines, there is still some fear of reprisals by the ‘Werewolves’. Will that be finished, if Hitler is dead? And can this fact be assumed with any certainty? Even the Führer’s successor is not up to date with events in the Berlin bunker: on 1 May, Lord Admiral Dönitz sends a telegram to the man who has shot himself the day before. Hitler has named Dönitz as the new head of government in a political testament, and left other instructions in a

The German question: history and semantics

23

private will (1.5.), in which he calls Martin Bormann his ‘most faithful party comrade’, and Linz on the Danube his ‘home town’. Both claims are equally debatable. In any case, how can Hitler entertain the notion that post-war Linz will welcome the donation of his private collection of paintings for a public gallery, or that Karl Dönitz will be permitted to rule over anything or anyone? But the last document in Section 1 (1.9.) is a spooky piece of speculation by Hitler’s successor about his and his government’s political future, written on 8 May, generally known as VE Day. For two weeks longer, until their arrest on 23 May, Dönitz and his men are allowed to continue enacting a macabre farce, handing out medals to officers, and discussing affairs of state such as the major damages inflicted on pictures of Hitler by individuals belonging to the enemy.6 As late as 29 May, a naval court passes a sentence for acts of sedition: the judge is Dr Hans Filbinger, later a prominent Christian Democrat politician.7 Not only former Nazi greats and faithful practitioners of the law find it hard to come to terms with the new situation, to accept the outcome of the war. Virtually everybody, in the last days of the Hitler regime, knows that the capitulation will come, and, as the German proverb has it, a horrible end is preferable to endless horror. But even for anti-fascists, there is indeed a horrible side to the end: it brings home the extent of the damage done, and the ultimate inability of the German people to rid themselves of a criminal regime, up to the final moment, and, as shown above, in some cases beyond that. What does this indicate for the future? Foreigners who look around within Germany have mixed feelings, and Germans are uncertain what to expect of the occupying forces. Only from the outside can things be put in neat little formulas such as Winston Churchill’s anecdote claiming the moral and cultural superiority of the victorious ‘Athenians’ over the vanquished ‘tribe’ (1.1.). The British journalist Leonard Mosley (1.2.) and the female Red Armyist Elena Rzhevskaya (1.8.) have a similarly clear-cut approach towards the Germans, but their eye-witness reports include accounts of individual encounters of a bizarre, eerie kind which qualify the picture: there is an element of the grotesque which defies rational judgement. The German individuals quoted here include two teenagers who have just seen the practical demasking of Nazi rationale; their reactions are governed by strong emotions, injured patriotic pride (1.4.), and a deep sense of betrayal (1.6.). In contrast, the diary extracts of authors Ernst jünger (1.3.) and Erich Kästner (1.7.) are

24

Germany 1945–1949

neatly controlled expressions. jünger’s account of his last days of the war sounds like a piece of fiction: he is detaching himself from events, preparing the story he can pass on to posterity, and making sure that his part in it looks good. Kästner keeps an ironical distance as he rolls along with things, but he presents himself as in the same helpless position as the rest of the people, at the mercy of outside forces, and of more or less reliable sources of information. After the first section dealing with the first months of 1945 up to VE day, each chapter covers a particular aspect of the story of Germany up to the end of 1949, with nine documents each, in chronological order. Each section can thus be read as a story in itself, and part of a larger one at the same time. I have tried to provide extensive annotation and enough background information to make it possible for the general reader, the student, or the teacher, to concentrate on selected documents or chapters which they are particularly interested in, and to get a wider view by having a look at chronologically or thematically related documents. Talking of a wider view, I must stress that I do not claim the ninety-nine texts I haven chosen for this book will give an image of the period that is in any way complete. It is a compromise between wanting to reflect as many different facets of post-war German reality as possible, and wanting to present a particular emphasis. In the end, I think, the emphasis comes over in the recurrence of some leitmotifs, established in Section 1 which acts as a kind of overture. One of these is the search for things to believe in, both credible values, and credible information. Some, like the historian Friedrich Meinecke, look for unstained ideals in German literary and musical classics, which are to provide spiritual healing (4.4.; 10.2.; 10.5.). Others turn to religion in different ways; Friedrich Langenfass advises a simple kind of piety as a means to counteract the evils of the modern world, counting Nazism as one of the forms in which ‘the spirit of technology’ manifests itself (4.3.). This rather vague identification of evil forces at work is miles apart from an official statement by the Protestant church, proclaiming the importance of the Christian faith in a new beginning, but explicitly including Christians in a confession of collective guilt (4.1.). After twelve years of a criminal regime, in which the gap between common-sense morality and the law had steadily widened, religious voices are among the few that are still widely accepted as authorities on what is right and what is wrong. So many horrendous crimes were committed legally—who is to tell people who are starving that they are to live by an old code? Even the rules of the ten

The German question: history and semantics

25

commandments are partially suspended: in Cologne, the Roman Catholic cardinal Frings officially sanctions certain minor forms of theft, and there is a new verb for ‘steal’, entering first the spoken language, and then the dictionary—fringsen. Black market dealing is a widespread activity (5.2.), and those who have no possessions to sell may still survive by prostitution (4.7.; 9.2.). Families have disintegrated, and there are many worries about a young generation which may grow up to be amoral, cynical, and nihilistic. But while some post-war teenagers are growing up before their time, others seem to lead more sheltered lives, and develop according to traditional patterns, like the girl from Düsseldorf who writes a letter to an English pen-friend in 1947—certainly one of the earliest instances of such post-war contacts between pupils in Germany and Allied countries (3.5.) But even for them, the formative years are not unspoiled and carefree: post-war children and adolescents are deprived of many of the customary pleasures of that age. The scope for goodies coming from the kitchen is limited at the best of times (9.3.), and matters get worse on festive occasions. The 1946 Christmas edition of Diese Woche sympathises with the problems parents have in finding toys that will make presentable presents (9.6.), drawing an envious comparison to the abundance of such items in the USA. At the same time, the article criticises the profusion of military toys in America as unsuited to hopes of lasting world peace, a point of view that illustrates the radical pacifism prevalent in post-war Germany, and re-emerging in the present. Rolf Flügel’s account of the Munich beer festival of 1947 (9.8.) suggests that fun fairs are not as much fun as they used to be; he talks about material deficiencies, too, but there is a hint of a deeper sense in which the fun has been spoiled. Children and adults can find ways of enjoying themselves, including sport (9.9.), but entertainment seems often to be understood as escape and illusion. People want books (10.4.), but they have preferences for certain kinds (10.9.); they want music, but something light-hearted rather than an attempt to put contemporary experience into a symphony (10.8.). The things that constitute everyday reality are neither what most people want to see in the cinema (9.1.; 9.7.): the Trümmerfilm, the ‘film of ruins’, is as short-lived and limited in its reception as its literary equivalents (10.1.; 10.7.). There is a symbolic meaning in this—after the war, ruins are a visual reminder of guilt, and of the irony that opting for the party which claimed to make sure that ‘things are going in an orderly way’ (6.1.) caused destruction and fundamental disorder. The

26

Germany 1945–1949

connection is obvious to the beholder, even if to the people involved it may be an unconscious one, as for H.S., the Westphalian teenager (1.4.). She reports that after the surrender of her town to the Americans, an event which has upset her considerably, she goes home and starts to do ‘some cleaning’: it is as if she believes that presenting a spotless house to the occupying forces will be taken as proof of a similarly clean conscience. Are the guilt and the ruins, the experience of fascism and the war years going to be dealt with in a manner which ensures generally accepted conclusions for the future? The Allies try to achieve this by different denazification procedures and reeducation programmes, with mixed success (3.7.; 4.6.). Ordinary Germans as well as prominent ones such as the poet Gottfried Benn (10.3.) are busy adjusting their own records, trying to come up with acceptable rather than honest versions of the past. Those who really have nothing to hide may not even dare to say so, for it would sound too much like one of the phoney claims to innocence heard all over the place. The Murderers are Among Us is the title of a film (9.5.)—but who are they? This is difficult enough to find out for the courts, and sometimes even more so for individuals. People would know who the Nazis were in their village or small town, but it is easy enough to disappear and reappear elsewhere with a new identity, as hundreds of thousands are on the move, and many missing persons never found (6.2.). Strangers are potentially suspect, and incomers are rivals in the struggle for the daily necessities. Most of them are people from the East who are expelled from their homes because of Allied agreements on Soviet and Polish territorial claims. An official document describes ‘trainloads and shipments having been inspected and approved by British Repatriation Teams’ (6.4.)— the transformation of humans into objects is very reminiscent of Nazi language. At the end of their journey, the expellees often end up in the same camps formerly used by the Nazis, where reactions to the treatment and disillusionment about the warmth of the welcome by their compatriots suggest that the new Germany will have to cope with the existence of a new disadvantaged and dissatisfied minority (6.8.). Those who are Heimkehrer, ‘homecomers’ to their own place, sometimes discover that they are not welcome either. Having won the fight for physical as well as psychological survival in the prisoner-of-war camps (6.5.; 6.7.), they may find that their families have perished in the bombardments, or that their girlfriends or

The German question: history and semantics

27

wives have sought the help of another man in their own struggle, instead of waiting for someone whose return was at best uncertain, or who was regarded as missing, or even declared dead. Even some of those who are lucky enough to have a home and a family to return to, do not always manage to fit into a changed society, after an experience that has alienated them from the rest. Walter Hoffmann is one of the emerging authors who has gone through the ‘homecomer’ experience, and tries to bridge the gap in communication by literary means (6.9.). Hoffmann chooses the pseudonym of Kolbenhoff, as lots of other people change their names in the post-war period: certainly something which should be seen in correlation with the wish for a new beginning. In a sense, the clocks have been turned back: the country is almost as fragmented as in the days before Bismarck’s Reich (7.8.), even short journeys can become major adventures, almost as in the days before mass transport (7.3.; 7.4.; 7.5.). The same return to an earlier state of affairs, with only a very gradual improvement, happens in the field of mass communications, even as the extreme restrictions first enforced by the Allies are gradually relaxed (7.1.; 7.2.; 7.9.). People and communities remain more isolated than before, and being able to communicate, to keep in touch over a distance, is not so easily taken for granted. Letters from the period convey a sense of the importance of the occasion, they are rarely throwaway and banal, whatever the subject matter (5.2; 7.3.). People everywhere are eager to receive personal news, but also to know what is happening in the country. A free flow of information is needed if the running of post-war society is to involve more than a small number of people; this is stressed by many including the trade unions who want to make the wielding of economic power more transparent (11.8.). Individuals need practical guidance, as to, for example, what to do with their money in view of the impending currency reform (5.7.; 5.8.). At first, they tend to rely on their own common sense or intuition, or on rumours passed on by people they trust—in fact, on anything but officiallooking information. They may not get it right, but at least they will not fall prey to propaganda. The new press has to cope with a widespread scepticism as long as it is operates under censorship (8.4.), in spite of the commitment of all involved, from journalists to typesetters, to come up with papers and magazines that have nothing to do either in content or in style with the lie-mongering of the Nazi era (8.2.; 8.3.). More direct Allied attempts at re-education

28

Germany 1945–1949

also meet with a fundamental mistrust. The reservations are understandable, but too frequently based on a purely material assessment of the post-war situation: democracy or socialism cannot be right if the people are starving (3.7.; 7.6.). The implication is that once there is again a sufficient amount of food on the table, those people will also be ready to swallow pretty much any ideology that is dished up at the same time, because of the edible proof that it works. Semantics meet pragmatics here: this is the background to the political argument over the meaning of democracy, as exemplified in Section 11. Look at what Bavarian youngsters have to say on the issue (4.2.), to get things into perspective. Which of the appointed, or elected, or indeed selfappointed opinion leaders have really understood the point that people want to be well-fed, well-clothed, and well-housed, and that any suggestion that does not promise instant material relief is likely to be eyed with suspicion? Konrad Adenauer, who is to guide the Federal Republic into the decade of the 1950s where material comfort becomes the common fetish, is the one who derides ‘materialism’ as the root of all evil in 1946 (11.4. a). In the United States, some people have grasped the idea that if you want hungry people to buy your idea of democracy, you have to give them the cash to do so. In the West, even some reluctant trade unionists accept the Marshall Plan on the basis that beggars cannot be choosers (5.9.); in the East, the decision to reject the offer because of its obvious political implications is taken at higher levels, before any reluctant beggars in the Soviet zone can come to the same conclusion as those in the West. In theory, everything is ready for a socialist restructuring of society in all the zones of occupation (11.6.); in practice, though, a fairly traditional form of capitalism wins the day in the West, with foreign help. The break with the past and the search for a new social consensus become a secondary concern. Society returns to a familiar economic base, as everybody tries to get ahead by looking after themselves first (4.8.). The East is caught in second position, in an economic race in which one side has had a head start; as the gap widens, the new system is discredited, in the eyes of many, by its economic shortcomings (3.7.). Section 5 documents the extreme poverty in the Western zones of post-war Germany, where the situation goes from bad to worse after 1945. Eighteen months lie between Hans-Erich Nossack’s description of a normal day in 1945 (5.2.), and the newspaper reports speaking of food rations as low as 650 calories per day in

The German question: history and semantics

29

1947 (5.4.). Reactions are predictable: apart from some blame on farmers hoarding their produce instead of putting it on the market (5.5.), the provision of food is seen as an Allied responsibility (3.6.). There are many outside Germany who do feel that they are under some kind of obligation to act in a charitable way; some—like Victor Gollancz (3.8)—going to great lengths to convince others. Charity from abroad is, also predictably enough, received with ambivalent feelings. In 1948 Johannes Semler (Christian Democratic Union) calls American shipments of grain, especially corn, ‘chickenfeed’—he is sacked from his post as director of the bizonal economic administration. But there are people who would, in order to get their hands on a relief parcel from the United States, go to any extreme of self-denial in buttering up a member of the formerly despised race who had the good fortune to escape persecution by emigrating, as in Karl Valentin’s satire of 1946 (9.4.). Relations between political emigrants and those who stayed at home are a source of ironies, too, as in the case of Thomas Mann (6.6.); like him, others may also decide that there is too much animosity against ‘deserters’ to make them respond to calls to come back, even if some prominent Germans do (6.3.). The relationships between the losers and the winners of the war change quickly and drastically. Compare the spirit of the 1945 advice given to French occupying troops (3.1.), or Judy Barden’s expression of contempt for German women from the same year (3.2.), to the attitudes underlying James F. Byrnes’s speech of September 1946 (5.3.). The difference is hardly to be explained by a change based on the actual experiences of the Allies with the Germans; it has more to do with perceptions being determined by changing ideologies in the emerging cold war. George Patton, the enfant terrible of the US Army, merely speaks too soon when he declares that the denazification business should be forgotten and the Germans recruited as Allies against the real evil power in the East (3.3.); the people who advise against such a new worldwide confrontation lose. Henry Morgenthau fails to convince the President of his plan to turn Germany into an almost pre-industrial state not because that is unthinkable, but because it does not fit in with the new global strategy: the Germans living in the Western zones of occupation will not make a strong enough and reliable enough bastion against communism, if they are poorer and unhappier than their neighbours because of economic restrictions. Morgenthau’s primary motivation expressed in the urgent warning

30

Germany 1945–1949

to avoid a confrontation with the Soviet Union (5.1.) is soon forgotten, as his plan has a distinctly negative publicity value. The German perception of the Allies changes according to the calorific value of the rations under their occupation, as much as according to the behaviour of the soldiers. The Americans are the most popular: they have less reasons to feel hostile towards the losers of the war than those whose countries suffered direct aggression or even occupation by German forces, and they have the most to give. Johann Gottlieb Dietrich alias Hanns Braun admires the relaxed style of the US military, so different from the Prussian stiffness of even the Bavarians (7.7.). Many others share his feelings about the easy-going American way, but for most the actual Americans remain alien creatures (3.4.), if not culturally inferior. There are signs of a retained arrogance on the part of the vanquished people, partly an echo of the arrogance of the winners (1.1.; 2.7.), and certainly a means of compensating for the fact that the foreigners are the rulers of Germany. As long as ‘the machinery of Allied control’ (2.5.) appears to be running the country, there is a basic antagonism even in the friendliest relations. Such close but tense relations exist between Allied re-educators and some pupils eager to practise what they learned: socialism in the East, democracy in the West. The history of the press is an example: developing under Allied control (8.1.; 8.5.), it is to play an important role in the transformation of German society desired by the occupying powers. There is a spate of publications, but the new beginning with often inexperienced staff means that their overall standard is not as high as could have been wished (8.6.; 8.8.). Even after strict censorship practices are relaxed, direct control is exerted by the distribution of paper and the granting and withdrawal of licences (8.7.; 11.3.). In the Western zones, not only communists, but also those who are most successfully copying the kind of critical journalism found in Britain or the United States, are liable to run into problems with the military government (6.5.; 8.9.; 9.6.). In the end, the desired effect is achieved in both East and West Germany. Neither of the two German states becomes a place where different ideologies, different principles of social and economic organisation can be tried out in a free competition between ideas. The socialist lobby within the Christian Democrats fails to gain any influence on the government of the Federal Republic (11.4.; 11..6.). The Social Democrats in the East merge into the new Socialist Unity Party and thus cannot present any resistance to the

The German question: history and semantics

31

Stalinist orthodoxy shaping the GDR in spite of prior Communist assurances that they would not try to impose a Soviet model (2.3.; 11.2.). In the West, the Communists are shunned by all other political forces including the SPD, which itself is branded as trapped in a world of ideas belonging to the past (11.5.). The trade unions are similarly disarmed as carriers of a new vision of society (11.7.; 11.8.) by their response to the ultimate choice presented by the Marshall Plan: either old-fashioned capitalism with maybe some minor modifications, or starvation. With coincidence playing a major part, events are being rushed, risks taken, and power games played, as during the Berlin crisis of 1948 (2.8.), when General Lucius D. Clay organises the Luftbrücke, the air bridge, connecting West Berlin with the American zone. Clay is a supporter of four-Power consensus, with initially little sympathy for the Germans (2.1.), but he opts for confrontation. His surprising determination not to give in to Soviet demands at this stage is an important step towards the view of a Western Germany as a potential US ally, and of Clay as an unlikely West German folk hero.8 By this time, the Germans who favour an alliance with the West, at the cost of a lasting national division, have created their own facts (2.6.), even before Allied policy in the West or in the East has written off other options. At the end of the year 1949, choices have been made, and certain doors firmly closed. The stage is set for the escalation of the cold war, which will involve the full integration of the two German states into two military pacts which threaten each other with complete extinction because they are being threatened with complete extinction. Insanity poses as logic, military strength as the means to secure peace. How far-fetched is the assumption that this way of thinking will appeal to a people who have just survived a second global war preceded by a build-up of arms on German territory? To understand why they swallow it, we must consider the extent of the material destruction and reconstruction, and the comparatively limited scope of the spiritual and social regeneration during the post-war years. The immediate concern of most Germans is survival, a return to ‘normal’ life. As long as the ruins of the Third Reich are visible, the past and its consequences are an issue which cannot be avoided. But after a while, it becomes a question of memory, and what transpires is that the imaginative recreation of the German nightmare has not become a part of the general consciousness. Selective recollection sets in on the individual and the collective level: with a little help from the Allies, the German states present

32

Germany 1945–1949

themselves as the inheritors of the resistance to Hitler, and make it easy for their citizens to fit themselves into the pattern. The Austrians are the first who are encouraged to see themselves en masse as victims of Nazi aggression (2.2.): thereafter, Kurt Waldheim is not the only one who has a weak memory, as regards his personal experience. In the Federal Republic, there are plenty of people with less than a clean slate reappearing as industrial managers, judges, or politicians. Even in the GDR, with the most rigorous efforts at denazification, the result does not justify the conclusion that the new country is exclusively populated with stout anti-fascists. Still, by declaring their allegiance to the new state, they can all see themselves as such. The present can easily be divorced from the past, even if history is not ignored: all that it takes is a division between ‘us’ and ‘them’, and the offer of identification with the side that represents ‘good’. For Germans as well as other nations involved, a look back to the years between 1945 and 1949 may well alter the picture, and result in a more complex view of contemporary reality, by revealing the complexity of the process that led to it. We live in a time when several well-loved preconceptions are shattered; even for the most inflexible ideologists, it is becoming increasingly difficult to sell a black-and-white image of the world. Maybe these documents help to show that behind black-and-white pictures, there may be a reality which is full of shades and colours, worries and hopes, doubts and possibilities—a confusing, multi-faceted, fluctuating reality in which not everything is yet named, categorised, and neatly filed, but one in which things are taking shape. In short, a reality which is surprisingly different from that of the 1950s, and surprisingly close, in spite of the changed material circumstances, to the present. In a way, the 1980s can be seen as a decade when the task of the postwar years was resumed, issues resurfaced, and divisions reappeared. The debate about the past and the future of Germany had remained incomplete, cut short after the events of 1949, and today’s discussion provides ample evidence for the view that there is still work to be done. The renewal of the debate, however, must not involve a denial of history. Extreme nationalists in the Federal Republic tend to regard shedding the burden of history as a condition for putting German patriotism on an equal footing with that of Germany’s neighbours. But Germans need to remember that the roots of the present situation lie in the impact of German fascism, and one way to preserve an awareness of that is to keep looking at a time when

The German question: history and semantics

33

this was too obvious to be denied. When we talk about the future of Germany today, we must remember the devastation, the architectural and the human debris left behind by the Nazis. Maybe the present generation have even got a better chance to cope with this. They are not suffering the trauma of living among post-war ruins, and hence their escapism is not an inevitable means of psychological self-defence. They have a choice as to whether they want to know or not, and in this choice there is a responsibility. Since I have lived in North Africa, I have heard the name of Hitler mentioned many times, usually with great respect; and if being German means anything to me, it means that this makes it my duty never to let anyone get away with such talk without a challenge. My credibility in such cases, I feel, depends on my ability to regard the entire recent history of Germany as my own, and me as part of it—and this depends on the ability to see the connections between the different Germanies of Hitler, Kohl, and Modrow. I have always felt a personal need to find the links between the present and the past; hence my interest in the post-war period, which, I think, provides clues for understanding contemporary Germany, clues that are important not only for those who are busy with the task of ‘being German’, but also for those who have to live with Germans as neighbours or allies. Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Volker Elis Pilgrim, Zehn Gründe, kein Fleisch mehr zu essen (Frankfurt/ Main, 1985) p. 62 Margarete Groewel (CDU), in Rainer Horbelt, Sonja Spindler, Tante Linas Nachkriegsküche: Mehr Erlebnisse und Kochrezepte in Geschichten und Dokumenten (Reinbek, 1987) p. 143 See Christoph Kessler, ‘Geschichtswerkstätten auf dem Vormarsch’, DAAD Letter: Hochschule und Ausland 2 (1989) pp. 16f. Alice Miller, Am Anfang war Erziehung (Frankfurt/Main, 1983) Marshall Knappen, And Call it Peace (Chicago, 1947) p.22 See Wolfgang Benz, Potsdam 1945: Besatzungsherrschaft und Neuaufbau im VierZonen-Deutschland (Munich, 1986) See Ulrich Vultejus, Kampfanzug unter der Robe (Hamburg, 1984) pp.98 ff See Wolfgang Krieger, General Lucius D.Clay und die amerikanische Deutschlandpolitik (Stuttgart, 1987)

1

‘Zero hour’

1.1. TOWARDS THE END OF THE WAR As the fighting entered its final stages in 1945, the question how to achieve the transition to peace after the imminent military victory was raised more frequently, and with more urgency than before on the side of the Allies. A meeting between the British Prime Minister Winston Churchill (born 1874)1 and US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882–1945) at Casablanca in January 1943 had established unconditional surrender as the Allied precondition for peace; two years later the possible consequences of such a surrender seemed to call for a clearer definition of Allied policies regarding post-war Germany. Of prime importance was the issue of government: would any form of German authority be allowed to exist, or would the Allies assume total control? There was some doubt as to whether a hard line might not prolong the fighting by making those who might have been willing to overthrow Hitler in order to achieve peace on more lenient terms, like the conspirators who attempted to kill him on 20 July 1944, rally round the cause of defending their country to the last. In the speech quoted here, Churchill takes a clear stance against any kind of bargain with any such parts of the German leadership, but at the same time emphasises that the occupying forces will not be looking for revenge against the population, contrary to the Cassandra cries of Nazi propaganda. Though made in the House of Commons, this part of the statement is clearly directed at the German public: the classical reference, of somewhat obscure origin, implies the common background of Western cultural heritage as well as the victors’ claim to moral superiority.

The principle of unconditional surrender was proclaimed by the President of the United States at Casablanca, and I endorsed it there and then on behalf of this country. I am sure it was right at the time it was used, when many things hung in the balance against us which are all decided in our favour now. Should we then modify this declaration which was made in days of comparative weakness 34

‘Zero hour’

35

and lack of success now that we have reached a period of mastery and power? I am clear that nothing should induce us to abandon the principle of unconditional surrender and enter into any form of negotiation with Germany or Japan, under whatever guise such suggestions may present themselves, until the act of unconditional surrender has been formally executed. But the President of the United States and I, in your name, have repeatedly declared that the enforcement of unconditional surrender upon the enemy in no way relieves the victorious Powers of their obligations to humanity, or of their duties as civilised and Christian nations. I read somewhere that the ancient Athenians, on one occasion, overpowered a tribe in the Peloponnesus which had wrought them great injury by base, treacherous means, and when they had the hostile army herded on a beach naked for slaughter, they forgave them and set them free, and they said: ‘This was not done because they were men; it was done because of the nature of Man.’ Similarly, in this temper we may now say to our foes, ‘We demand unconditional surrender, but you know well how strict are the moral limits within which our action is confined. We are no extirpators of nations, or butchers of peoples. We make no bargain with you. We accord you nothing as a right. Abandon your resistance unconditionally. We remain bound by our customs and our nature.’ Source: House of Commons Debates 407, col. 423 (18 January 1945), in: Beate Ruhm von Oppen (ed.), Documents on Germany under Occupation 1945– 1954 (Oxford, 1955) pp. 3 f.

Note 1

Birth date only is given in the commentary/notes throughout the book for individuals who were alive at the end of the period covered by the book— 1945–1949

1.2. THE OCCUPATION: A BRITISH VIEW On 7 March, American forces had crossed the Rhine, the last major natural border between the Western Allies and the largest part of the Reich’s heartland. British and American armies encircled the important industrial area of the Ruhr, where the fighting still continued as the English journalist Leonard O.Mosley entered occupied territory. He had been a newspaper correspondent in Berlin from 1937 to 1939, meeting many Germans and making many friends among them in spite of his despair at the extent to which people allowed themselves to be led by Nazi ideology. His attitude to the Germans which he expresses in his

36

Germany 1945–1949

Report from Germany is nevertheless sympathetic, but superior: the dilemma how to be understanding without being patronising clearly shows in his ‘hot off the press’ account published by Victor Gollancz which members of the Left Book Club could read very shortly after it was written in 1945. Most reports from Germany until the end of the war concerned themselves with military events, and Mosley’s wish to be elsewhere than where the real action was ensured that he met with some astonishment, as did the fact that his wife accompanied him into the midst of the newly conquered enemies. For him, they were already the neighbours, if not the Allies of the future, and all they needed was to be pointed in the right direction by those nations with the proper set of democratic values, and a better record of moral conduct to back it up.

Wherever we drove through the Rhineland those first weeks in April the feelings of the German people were unmistakeable. The War was not yet over but they knew it was lost, and they were engaged in an instinctive effort to save something from the wreck. There were the Nazi officials who crawled and lick-spittled in an attempt to curry favour and save either their necks, their liberty, or their jobs. There were the rich industrialists and landed gentry who had friends in England or America, and were rude and unpleasant, and confident that their friend Hiram This or Viscount That would get them out of trouble. There were the odd groups of young people here and there, teen-age Hitler Jugend1 and Bund Deutsche Mädeln2 mostly, who were defiant because their spirits were sore, their burning faiths and dreams, their beliefs and ideals, destroyed by the men who so corruptly had called them forth; and now they were bewildered and angry because they had nothing. But the mass of the people were casting off National Socialism like an old coat, without grief or regret, some more and some less conscious of the guilt they shared in the support they had given it, determined to forget it and to work to re-create, in co-operation with their conquerors, the things that had been destroyed. They were fertile ground indeed, then, for a policy of re-education—if only there had been one. Queer things happened in the Rhineland in those days. There was, for instance, the day we were in Bonn. We were walking down the street to look again at Beethoven’s house,3 and feeling sick and apprehensive as we saw the piles of bomb debris. Less than a mile away there was a battle going on, just across the river, and every now and then an over-range shell would crash somewhere near by. Yet there were Germans walking, unconcerned, in the town, and, as we got nearer to the house, a man halted, looked at us, and said

‘Zero hour’

37

in French: ‘You are going to Herr Beethoven’s house? Do not worry. It is unharmed.’ He walked with us to the house itself, and stood, a little back from us, watching our faces as we looked at it. ‘You are fond of music?’ he asked, in German this time. ‘We had many good concerts in Bonn. I wonder when we shall hear more. You have seen our University?’ No, we said; nor had we time to go today. ‘A pity,’ he said. ‘It is very fine.’ He listened for a moment to the rattle of machine-guns down the river, an expression of remote speculation upon his face. Then he fumbled in his pocket, handed us a pamphlet, clicked his heels, bowed, and turned away. It was not a proclamation from the Werewolves,4 but a tourist pamphlet in French, containing pictures and descriptive matter about the architectural treasures of Bonn. Source: Leonard O.Mosley, Report from Germany (London, 1945) pp. 24 f.

Notes 1

2 3 4

Hitler-Jugend (HJ), Hitler Youth, youth organisation of the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (NSDAP, National Socialist German Workers’ Party); the HJ was established in 1926, compulsory membership introduced by law of 1 December 1936 Misspelling of Bund deutscher Mädel (BdM), Federation of German Girls, female branch of the HJ, for girls from 14 to 18 years of age The house where the composer Ludwig van Beethoven was born in 1770, open to visitors as a museum Werwölfe, originally German soldiers operating behind enemy lines in the so-called Unternehmen Werwolf (Undertaking Werewolf) under the leadership of the SS; later on, Werewolf activities were to include acts of sabotage and reprisal against capitulators and collaborators carried out also by noncombatants and PoWs

1.3. THE OCCUPATION: GERMAN VIEW NO. 1 By mid-April 1945, large areas of the Reich were under Allied control. American troops were approaching Berlin from the West; the German writer Ernst Jünger (born 1895); saw them pass through the village of Kirchhorst near Hanover, where he had been living since his release from the army, shortly after sending Field Marshal Rommel a copy of his essay Der Friede (Peace). He had seen regular military service as a volunteer in World War I, receiving the highest Prussian decoration for bravery ‘Pour le mérite’, and was called up again at the beginning of World War II. The soldier’s life is portrayed in jünger’s early fiction as an archetypal male experience, which he describes in a detached, realistic style. Then he turned to the worker as another archetypal figure; both endeared him to

38

Germany 1945–1949

different both endeared him to different political factions on the right and left respectively. Jünger, however, remained aloof, never siding with any camp, although he published a novel that was generally understood as an attack on the Nazi system, in 1939: Auf den Marmorklippen (On the Marble Cliffs). In 1945, he was the commander of the Volkssturm at Kirchhorst, surrendering the village to the Americans; in 1944, he had been in the know about, but not part of the conspiracy to take Hitler’s life. This extract from his diary is an example of a characteristically distanced attitude to events happening close by, and after all not without personal involvement of the observer.

Kirchhorst, 13 April 1945 At the crack of dawn the Americans moved on. They left a halfdevastated village behind. We are exhausted like children after a fair with its masses of people, the shooting, the shouting, sideshows, horror cabinets and music tents. At the school during the morning, I talked about this with a group of villagers and refugees who had gathered there after the rainstorm, half animated, half giddy, in a mood which the Berliner describes as ‘spun through’.1 The opinion was that the worst had passed us by. In other places, such as the level crossing at Ehlershausen where the Hitler Youth knocked out a tank, things are said to look different. The fortunate thing above all was that during the night before the Americans moved in, the Flak unit had cleared the field, after blowing up their guns. Negotiations between Party, Wehrmacht2 and Volkssturm3 had filled the preceding days. I was busy with the Kreisleiter4 as well as my flu, and Löhning5 kept me informed about what was going on at the Gau 6 administration. When the Party finally left for Holstein, things became simpler. I was to knock out two or three tanks with my farmers, to cover the retreat. On this occasion I once again saw clearly that war has also a theatrical side, which you cannot learn from the files, let alone from history. There are, as in private life, motives which move in undercurrents, and rarely ever emerge. People are busily firing at the landscape, to make a noise and to get rid of the ammunition, and then they can say after time-honoured fashion that they defended themselves to the last bullet. They hold positions exactly as long as they can still get away, then doctor their reports and vanish as if by magic. Of course I knew what the good people had in mind while we were negotiating about defence, but I knew better than to let it show, because there are situations in which people should make things easier for one another. Also, in the middle of

Figure 1 Facing an uncertain future: refugees during the evacuation of an air raid shelter

40

Germany 1945–1949

such games, now and then trumps are called, i.e., the one who shows his hand too early is taken away and shot. This endows the exit with the necessary respect; as seen again here, too. To make it obvious for myself, I stopped at the fire station on the way to my school, to look at the corpse lying there on the floor. The face was distorted as from a heavy fall or blow. The coat was open; below the left nipple, there was the pale gleam of a small bullet wound. The herculean man had been a dreaded person; the night before, he had still delivered a fanatical speech and then left his house in civilian clothes during the night to run away and hide, as countless others would be doing now. His subordinates, now Werewolves,7 had waylaid him; they shot him after a brief exchange of words. As far as they were concerned, it was a departure: when you turn to anarchy, you begin with a crime, a murder, acquiring a bloody debt. In the cemetery, I met the gravedigger, who was digging a hole right by the fence. He asked me whether it was deep enough. Then he began talking about the suicide of one of the people in power, of whom he had heard. ‘Now he is dead, the fat bacon-face.’ He said this with the comfortable smile of the ordinary man who feels secure. These people are like the grass underneath the oak trees, easily trodden down and easily rising up again. The fall of the mighty is always a ball for them. Source: Ernst jünger, Sämtliche Werke. Band III: Tagebücher III: Strahlungen II (Stuttgart, 1979) pp. 408 ff.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Literal translation of durchgedreht Literally ‘defence force’; official name for all German military forces, introduced in 1935 Home defence force including males between 16 and 60 years of age not eligible for regular military service after Hitler’s order of 25 September 1944 Party official at district (Kreis) level Wehrmacht general based at Hanover Administrative unit of the NSDAP at regional level, with a Gauleiter as the head of the Gauleitung See 1.2.

1.4. THE OCCUPATION: GERMAN VIEW NO.2 The municipal archive of Iserlohn in Westphalia preserves the diaries of H.S., a teenage girl from a fairly wealthy family, who recorded the events of April 1945 in the form of letters to a fictitious boyfriend serving at the front. Iserlohn was taken shortly before the surrender of German forces in the Ruhr area; being located just outside the heavy industrial complex of the Ruhr valley, the town had escaped the worst of the bombings, and inhabitants were hoping that a

‘Zero hour’

41

timely surrender would prevent further damage. The letters reflect the turmoil of events and emotions surrounding the collapse of the only world that a person of H.S.’s age had really experienced. She is trying to come to terms with this, talking to herself via ‘Bubi’ the addressee, in a style that comes close to the spontaneous speech of a highly anxious person put down on paper without much editorial reflection. Apart from the conquering forces, one of the major worries is the foreigners (Ausländer), a term which for her does not actually include Americans and British, but mainly Slavic PoWs and forced labourers, whom, once liberated, no military discipline would restrain from acts of revenge. Any force of order is thus basically welcome: in the meantime, H.S. and her friends spend a lot of time cleaning their houses to enhance the feeling that things are under control, listening to rumours about fighting between Americans and Russians, and more well-founded ones about the concentration camps. ‘If this is true, we deserve no other punishment’, H.S. writes after the surrender of 8 May, but her sense of national pride makes the disgrace hard for her to accept.

17 April 1945, Tuesday I couldn’t write to you any more yesterday, there was too much excitement. Now I’m writing in bed.—I will tell you things in the order of events now.—The night from the 16th to the 17th was fairly quiet. There were only a few exploding mortar shells in the evening, and there was some fighting on the streets near the Landrat’s1 office. I got some sleep that night. After nine a.m., we heard that there was a ceasefire until noon. So I went over to your parents’ house to help a little. Afterwards Ruth and I went to Adolf Hitler Square.2 There were two Tiger tanks with some infantry. We went up to the tanks and talked to the soldiers. Then we sat on top of the tanks, eating chocolate. Suddenly a German car with a white flag arrived from Letmathe.3 It stopped and said4 the fighting would resume at noon. Then they went to the Americans. But then the Americans came up with a horrible ultimatum. Either surrender, or bombers. After a quarter of an hour, the car came back. At eleven Major Perl5 came in our car with two Americans, and they went into the town hall. After a short while more Americans arrived. One came up to me, holding his gun before him, and asked ‘Wo ist Rathaus?’6 Then I took him there. And then more and more Americans flooded in. The whole town was full of them.—I must say, the Americans are very amicable, friendly, and polite. But these are only the fighting troops after all. The occupation is still to come.—Now tension was at a breaking point. What was to follow? We and the soldiers racked our brains. Then we went into town to Gustav Müller’s.7 Suddenly a car arrived with three Americans and a German carrying a white flag. Then we knew enough.

42

Germany 1945–1949

Yes, Bubi,8 and then I cried till three in the afternoon. Our soldiers had to get off their tanks, and give up their arms. Then back onto the tanks, and to Schiller Square. On Schiller Square, there were five German tanks, four trucks. There were soldiers on them. The place was teeming with Americans. From the DAF,9 they got flags and shared them out between them. Then, shortly afterwards, our soldiers leftgoing into captivity. Bubi, some scene. Terrible! We waved. Everyone cried. The soldiers shouted and waved. No, it was a sad scene. Really terrible. Then I went home, got the stuff from the cellar and did some cleaning. I’ve not been able to eat anything since Saturday. I am so shattered by the fact that we are Americans now. Not a German soldier to be seen any more. Oh, I shouldn’t be thinking at all. Now I’ve already accepted it a bit.—The Americans have started immediately to search the houses. But apart from that, they let us be. No alarm signals, no guns. Now we have a heavenly peace and quiet, anyway. But all this is terrible, all the same.—And soon the real occupation will come, too. Then it will certainly be a different story. My father is still here. Enough for today, there is work to be done. Source: Götz Bettge (ed.), Iserlohn 1945–1949 (Iserlohn, 1985) Beiträge zur Geschichte Iserlohns, 19, pp. 223 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Highest administrative official of a district (Kreis) The former Rathausplatz (town hall square), which it became again after the war Small town adjacent to Iserlohn It is really the car that speaks in the German text Chief of the Iserlohn police (Schutzpolizei) Where is town hall? Stationer’s shop in Iserlohn Diminutive of Bube (boy) Deutsche Arbeitsfront, NSDAP trade union organisation, established 1934

1.5. DEATH OF A FÜHRER On 30 April 1945, with Russian troops fast approaching his ultimate sanctuary, the bunker, Hitler committed suicide. He left a political will as well as a private testament, three copies of which were taken out of Berlin by an official of the propaganda ministry, an SS officer, and Hitler’s army adjutant Major Willi Johannmeier. Heinz Lorenz, the man from the ministry, was caught in the autumn of the year, and the young historian Hugh Trevor-Roper, who had been investigating the last days of Hitler for the British Intelligence Service, interrogated Johannmeier once more after SS-Standartenführer Zander had

‘Zero hour’

43

given up the second copy. Trevor-Roper finally convinced the ex-Major, still reluctant to disobey orders and hand the paper over to the enemy, to unearth the third one from his parents’ garden in Iserlohn. The official version, announced by his successor Lord Admiral Dönitz (see 1.9.) on 1 May, was that Hitler had died fighting the Bolsheviks; those who did not believe it had a choice between a number of rumours about his escape. To establish the fact and the manner of Hitler’s death beyond doubt was of some psychological importance; the style and content of his personal will reveal a mixture of sentimentality and righteousness, only slightly qualified by the ignominy of defeat. The lastditch marriage to Eva Braun, the provisions of the will itself seem pathetic in view of the extent of destruction and the number of deaths caused by the man who was caring enough to have his dog poisoned by a doctor, so that she would not fall into Russian hands.

Adolf Hitler

My private testament

As during the years of struggle I believed it would be irresponsible of me to enter into matrimony, I have now, before ending this earthly career, decided to take as my wife that girl who, after long years of true friendship, entered the almost besieged city of her own free will, to share her fate with mine. It is her wish to die with me, as my wife. Death will give back to us that of which my work in the service of my people robbed us both. What I own belongs—as far as it is of any value—to the Party; should it not exist any more, to the state. Should the state also be destroyed, no further decision on my part is necessary. The paintings in my collections which I have acquired over the years I have never bought for my private pleasure, but I have always been collecting them exclusively for the establishment of a gallery in my home town of Linz on the Danube.1 It is my most heart-felt wish that this will should be carried out. As the executor of this testament I nominate my most faithful party comrade Martin Bormann.2 He is entitled to make all decisions, as final and legally valid. He is allowed to set aside all things of sentimental value, and that which is necessary to preserve a modest middle-class lifestyle for my brothers and sisters, likewise for my wife’s mother and those that he knows so well, my male and female secretaries, Frau Winter,3 and others who have assisted me through their work for years. I myself and my wife choose to die, to avoid the shame of deposition or of capitulation. It is our will to be cremated at once in the place

44

Germany 1945–1949

where I have done the largest part of my daily work in the course of twelve years’ service to my people. Given at Berlin, 29 April 1945, 4.00 hours Adolf Hitler as witnesses as witness Nicolaus von Below5 Martin Bormann Dr Goebbels4 Source: Max Domarus (ed.), Hitler: Reden und Proklamationen 1932–1945. Kommentiert von einem deutschen Zeitgenossen (Wiesbaden, 1973) pp. 2240 f.

Notes 1 2

3 4 5

Hitler went to secondary school there for only four years before moving to Vienna; he was born in Braunau on the Inn, about 50 miles from Linz NSDAP official, Hitler’s personal secretary from 1943, condemned to death at the Nuremberg trials in absentia, proclaimed dead in 1954 without conclusive evidence, numerous reports about appearances in South America remaining similarly unconfirmed Anni Winter, Hitler’s housekeeper in Munich Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels Colonel of the air force (Luftwaffe) acting as Hitler’s adjutant; the surname is associated with a long line of Prussian officers

1.6. THE NEWS AND ITS IMPACT: 1 To learn the truth about Hitler’s death was not a relief for everybody: to many, especially young people, it meant that they had nothing left to believe in, and nothing worth fighting for any more. Dieter Borkowski (born 1928) was one of the youths called up as Luftwaffenhelfer (Air Force Helpers), to man the anti-aircraft guns of Berlin. He kept a diary until 2 May, when he put it into the hand of a friend’s mother who stood by the roadside as he and many others were marched into captivity. Borkowski did not remain a PoW for long and regained possession of his diary in the autumn of 1945; it was finally taken away from him by the authorities of the GDR, as he was arrested in 1960 because of his connections with an anti-Ulbricht faction in the Socialist Unity Party SED (see 2.3.), which he had joined in 1947 and from which he had been expelled in 1953 because of his refusal to subscribe to the official view of the insurrection of 17 June. Borkowski remained in prison for three years, spending some time trying to reconstruct his diaries from his memory. Inevitably, the style of the following passage is not that of a teenager, but an adult’s attempt to recall the experiences and emotions of the moment when the world he had grown up in finally ceased to exist. The text is the final part of the last entry of 2 May 1945.

From the ruined streets what is left of the German army begins to march, in small groups at first, the ranks continuing to swell, and finally a wide and endlessly long file moves along Lothringer Strasse, at last reaching Senefelderplatz. This is happening in a strange kind of silence, hardly a soldier who dares to whisper, an eerie anxiety

‘Zero hour’

45

lies over this march into the unknown. I ask myself, where are the Russians? Has Wenck’s relief army1 maybe liberated Berlin already? And then it seems as though nobody knows the situation or the leadership’s intentions. It’s getting light fast now. Where Pappelallee crosses Schönhauser Allee, there seems to be a command post, for there, right under the high-level railway station at Danziger Strasse, the procession takes an orderly shape. Muffled commands are heard: ‘Draw up for the breakthrough to Mühlenbeck-Prenzlau!’ Suddenly I discover the man who gives the orders. He’s the commander of the Flak towers Friedrichshain, Humboldthain, and Zoological Garden, Lieutenant Colonel Hoffmann. Elegant as ever, he is sitting in an army car, and next to him, to my surprise, young Lieutenant Keller whom I last saw in Wilhelmstrasse ten days ago. He laughs as I stand before him, shakes my hand. He whispers with the commander, then gets out of the car and instructs me to gather all comrades from the Flak tower at Friedrichshain. The commander wants to have them around, he knows us because his command post was in our tower for years. And now Lieutenant Keller, who managed to escape from the Führer’s headquarters last night, tells us that Adolf Hitler has shot himself. He laughs in a strange way as he tells me that the Führer first got married to a young lady named Eva Braun, and then calmly dictated his testament. ‘Goebbels is dead, too; he told his adjutant to shoot him after having his five children poisoned. And Wenck’s army does not exist. Merely the ruins of three divisions, bleeding to death in the Beelitz2 forests. Nor are there any wonder weapons, and no ceasefire with the Americans. Now we are to break through to the north, Lord Admiral Dönitz is Hitler’s successor. The war isn’t over yet…’ I feel sick as I hear these words, as if I have to throw up. I think that my life has no longer any meaning. So why this battle, why the death of so many people? I suppose life has lost all its value, for if Hitler has shot himself the Russians will have achieved ultimate victory. And why should Dönitz manage now what Hitler could not achieve in six years? Ahead of us lie the mines of Siberia, forced labour for life, as Propaganda Minister Goebbels has been predicting us for years, in the case of defeat. Now his last speech comes to my mind: ‘Never will a people betray their Führer, or a Führer his people…,’ didn’t he say something to that effect on Hitler’s birthday? But hasn’t the Führer betrayed his people now, after all? And who will be able to assume responsibility for everything that happened in this war?

46

Germany 1945–1949

Source: Dieter Borkowski, Wer weiss, ob wir uns wiedersehen. Erinnerungen an eine Berliner Jugend (Frankfurt/Main, 1983) pp. 136 f. Notes 1 The German forces’ last hope to break the Soviet ring around Berlin, troops led by the commander of the 12th army General Wenck, which were withdrawn from the Western front on the Elbe where Allied forces had halted their rapid advance waiting for the Reich’s capital to fall to the Red Army 2 Small town south of Potsdam

1.7. THE NEWS AND ITS IMPACT: 2 Erich Kästner (born 1899) was a journalist as well as a writer of fiction and poetry whose satirical and moralistic statements made him an obvious target for Nazi repression. Contrary to many in a similar position who fled the country, however, Kästner stayed to watch his books and those of many others being burnt in public in 1933, the only author of one of those works which had been labelled ‘un-German’ who witnessed this ritual in Berlin, hoping to avoid detection in the anonymity of the mob. When the war drew closer, he managed to get out of Berlin with a German film team going to work on location in Austria. The diary he kept during the year 1945 was published sixteen years later; it is an example of Kästner’s critical but compassionate contemplation of his times and his contemporaries. After World War I, he had written a satirical poem about the effect winning the war would have had on Germany, concluding with the line ‘fortunately, we did not win it’, which offended many patriotic spirits. It did not require a satirical imagination to reflect on the consequences of a German victory in the World War II, and more of Kästner’s compatriots shared his feeling that second time round. However, the war was not officially ended yet, and there was still a lack of reliable information during the first days of May, when even BBC radio did not know exactly what had happened in Hitler’s bunker, and the new German government were still broadcasting from their base in Flensburg near the Danish border. But those who had preserved a sense of reality knew better than others what to believe.

Mayrhofen, 3 May 1945 The Allied Headquarters tell us Himmler1 had reported to Count Bernadotte2 on 24 April, i.e. ten days ago, that Hitler was suffering from brain haemorrhages, and was certain to die within the following forty-eight hours. Many people have no faith in this piece of news. They like the version far better that Hitler fell before the enemy. It corresponds to their wish. They consider such a heroic death a heroic deed.

‘Zero hour’

47

Other Party members are adapting more quickly, for example Herr Pf., one of Steiner’s3 neighbours. A few days ago he was telling Viktl4 off for crying about her brothers who had died in combat. Yesterday he got rid of his Party badge, the picture of the Führer, and documents that implicated him. Such people are in demand. They are always the first. A fresh rumour: Hans Fritsche5 is said to have been taken prisoner, and to have confirmed that Hitler and Goebbels committed suicide. This is the most convincing version to date. A short while ago, Radio Upper Danube transmitted the order to hoist flags at half-mast to commemorate the Führer. Then they recommended taking in the flags at night. Why? Are they afraid of souvenir hunters? At night, people are not interested in swastika flags, but in Radio London. Its theme tune can be heard coming from nearly every single house after dark. People are not hesitant any more. It sounds as if logs were being split everywhere. Last night London reported that the German army in Italy, including the troops which have already arrived in the Tyrol and Vorarlberg,6 have laid down their arms. On hearing this, Herr B at once began to negotiate with Willi and Alfred, the NCOs, about the sale of the truck they have hidden away.7 Those two would not hear of it. While B was trying to ensure at least the option to buy, we sat by the radio listening to a speech by our new Foreign Minister, Count Schwerin-Krosigk.8 He talked about the repulsiveness of modern wars and was extremely moved. There seem to be no more newspapers at all. Source: Erich Kästner, Notabene: ’45: Ein Tagebuch (Frankfurt/Main, 4th edn., 1965) pp. 94 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Head of the SS and all police forces, from 1943 Minister for Interior Affairs Folke Bernadotte, president of the Swedish Red Cross The owner of the boarding house Kästner stayed in Short form of Viktoria; Steiner’s daughter One of the accused at the Nuremberg trials, then described by Kästner as ‘the oily radio preacher of the Third Reich’ Easternmost province of Austria An army vehicle with which the two soldiers had come away from their unit in Italy Johann Ludwig Graf Schwerin von Krosigk, independent conservative politician, Finance Minister from 1932 to 1945

48

Germany 1945–1949

1.8. A RUSSIAN IN BERLIN Elena Rzhevskaya was an interpreter in the Soviet army, taking part in the interrogation of German prisoners in occupied territory. She also performed other special tasks in Berlin in May 1945: her recollections, published in the Soviet Union twenty-two years later, tell the story of how she walked through the city carrying a box which contained a set of human teeth believed to be Hitler’s, trying to track down the man who had been the Führer’s dentist. Her notes speak of the joy the victors felt, but the author is far from condemning the German people as a whole for what had happened. This was in keeping with the official Soviet line expressed in Josef Stalin’s dictum that one should not confuse the Nazi clique with the German people; after all, the communist view of fascism ascribed its rise to economic circumstances, and not to an innate evil quality in the members of a certain nation, which was a view rather favoured by some Western observers. The entry of 4 May quoted here records Rzhevskaya’s observations without much comment, and there is an emphasis on visual detail and images which make the account unfold almost like the script of a documentary film.

Today we walked round the city—the chauffeur, Sergei, several soldiers and myself. From the square, littered with bricks, charred metal, broken and blackened trees, smoke still rose from the grey building of the Reichstag…. Above it—on the skeleton of the cupola— high against the cloudy sky, flew the Red Flag. Making our way past the holes and craters, we reached the Reichstag. We climbed the heavily hewn steps. Looking round the columns, which supported the walls and had been made black by soot, we stared at one another. On the sloping steps, we saw a soldier asleep, resting his bandaged head against one of the columns, his face covered with his field-cap. The moustached Guards soldier, with his greatcoat flung over his shoulder, thoughtfully rolled a cigarette. The large windows, on the lower floor of the Reichstag, were tightly sealed by wooden shields. All of the latter were covered with various inscriptions. Sergei found a piece of a pencil, and on top of the following bold inscription: ‘Where are you, dearest friend? We are in Berlin, at Hitler’s’—wrote, in scrawling letters: ‘Greetings to the lads from Siberia!’ We went inside, our soldiers were already there. Scattered folders of paper were all over the place, there was the smell of burning. Papers of the Reichstag were being used to make cigarettes. We then walked a bit further into the city. The streets were almost empty of people. In a very few places, groups of the city’s inhabitants had begun to clear away the rubble, passing on bricks to one another.

‘Zero hour’

49

Soldiers with red armbands pasted up the commandant’s orders. A wooden arch was to be built in honour of the victory over Nazi Germany; in the centre was to be planted a huge red star, the sides of the arch were to be decorated with the flags of the Allies. On the roads, cleared of rubble, the cars rushed along. The young female traffic regulators, with their white gloves (issued on the possibility of the troops entering Berlin), animatedly, untiringly turned round in their police patrol points, enlivening the Berlin crossroads. It was not possible to look at them and not feel excited. Remember that it was until quite recently that they were in their puttees, with rifles over their shoulders, carrying out their military duties at the front, shaking, shouting themselves hoarse, demanding. Only try to pretend not to hear their instructions—and a bullet would go whizzing past your ear. Infantry passed, their heavy boots making a clattering noise on the bridge, and held up the movement of the traffic. They brought the flag to the platoon commander. Around the pasted orders of the commandant, the inhabitants of Berlin stopped, writing in their note books details concerning the food rations. We went over the Spree1 by bridge. On the bridge sat a woman, her face held towards the sky, her legs outstretched before her, and she was laughing loudly. I called her over. She stared at me with absent, transparent eyes, politely nodded her head, then, exactly realising who I was, in a wild, guttural voice, screamed: ‘All is lost!’ Source: Elena Rzhevskaya, Berlin, May 1945 (Moscow, 1967) pp. 109 f. (translation by Steven Main, Edinburgh)

Note 1

Berlin’s main river, tributary of the Havel

1.9. REFLECTIONS OF A SUCCESSOR At his headquarters in Flensburg, Lord Admiral Karl Dönitz (born 1891), whom Hitler had appointed his successor, still walked free for two weeks after the capitulation, left alone to speculate on the future of his government. He had become chief commander of the German navy in 1943, having previously been in command of the submarine force. Hitler had been right in counting on the loyalty of this man, who was one of the accused, and condemned to ten years’ imprisonment at the Nuremberg trials. His notes show an awareness of the military situation and the powerlessness of his cabinet, but also a reluctance to abandon the hope that he and his ministers might be found useful by the Allies.

Figure 2 Thge victorious Red Army in Berlin, May 1945

‘Zero hour’

51

If this was less of a pipe-dream for local administrators or key industrialists, none of the new masters of Germany were willing to let the most prominent figures of Nazi Germany go free without some form of justice being administered. On 23 May, Dönitz and his government were arrested and thus relieved of the question whether they should resign, which the new leader is still pondering two weeks earlier. The extract from his diary quoted here is part of the entry headed 8 May, a list not unlike the one Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe made up to weigh the advantages against the disadvantages of being stranded on a desert island, while being unable to do much about the basic set of circumstances.

Reasons for resignation 1. The order ‘end the war’ has been carried out. 2. Germany is completely occupied. It has neither interior sovereignty, nor any exterior representation. 3. The government is factually defunct. There is no free utterance of will, and even less of a chance to exercise governmental powers. 4. In these circumstances, the enemy may make use of the workforce of cabinet ministers, but will give no scope to the top layer of government. 5. Large sections of the people are indifferent to these questions. They are glad that the war is over, and have purely personal motives for worrying about the future. We do not even know how many of the German people outside the immediate vicinity of Flensburg are aware of the existence of the Dönitz government, let alone recognise it as legitimate. 6. The further fate of the government is completely dependent on the measures taken by the enemy: they may make use of it without formally acknowledging its existence, the may use force to eradicate it, they may let it die a death by remaining silent about its existence, and they may expose it to the mockery and the ridicule of public opinion worldwide. Even in Germany, the enemy alone controls all the channels of the press, radio, and propaganda. 7. Personal honour and that of the Reich demand an exit in dignity. Reasons against resignation: 1. Idea of the Reich. 2. Leadership must remain, otherwise danger of chaos. 3. Government must share the fate of the people, they cannot be abandoned in the gravest calamity. 4. Each opportunity to help the people must be taken without regard to personal interests.

52

Germany 1945–1949

5. The person of the Lord Admiral is to many a guarantor of order, a support in the whirlpool of events, and a hope for the future. 6. Lord Admiral as leader of the Reich provides a goal and a model for the young. 7. To prevent hunger and chaos, it is absolutely essential to deal with many problems centrally: a) food, b) traffic, c) economics, d) financial problems (state benefits, surviving dependants’ pensions, compensation for bomb damages). 8. Possibility that enemy themselves may have an interest in government remaining: a) as an element of order; b) to avoid direct responsibility—after time-honoured fashion— for the coming events; c) political situation where strong inner Germany is required. Weighing up the advantages and disadvantages, the following provisional solution to the question emerges: The resignation is an irrevocable decision, so it must under no circumstances be proclaimed prematurely. The danger of becoming a target for public ridicule is great; with it loss of all idealistic reasons for remaining. Resignation must thus in any case come early enough. At the moment, the important thing is to monitor the political development carefully, so as not to miss the right time for resignation. As a solution by force after Churchill’s speech scheduled for 15.00 hours 1 seems possible, and a dignified exit thus doubtful, Lord Admiral decides to explain the situation described above, to the German people and the world public, in advance of this hour, on occasion of announcement of unconditional surrender. Source: Percy Ernst Schramm (ed), Die Niederlage: Aus dem Kriegstagebuch des Oberkommandos der Wehrmacht (Munich, 1962) dtv Dokumente, pp. 434 f.

Note 1

The short address to the nation broadcast by the BBC actually contained nothing to justify Dönitz’s speculation

2

Partitions

2.1. LÄNDER GOVERNMENTS AND CENTRALISATION The largest administrative units within the four occupational zones were the Länder, i.e. regions defined by new borders which in some cases coincided with historical boundaries, or comprised traditionally distinct regions into a new Land, as for instance in Northrhine-Westphalia. However, it soon became apparent that too strict a fragmentation would create practical problems as well as render it virtually impossible to treat Germany as an economic unit, as the Potsdam agreement between the US, the USSR and Britain of August 1945 had envisaged. To achieve more co-operation between the Länder, a meeting of the minister presidents in the American zone was called for 17 October 1945. The authority of those officials was derived exclusively from the supreme Allied power, who could, and did in some cases, demote them with as little formality as had been necessary to install them: a simple message was enough. In the Soviet zone, political parties had been allowed since 11 June 1945; in the other zones, the administration had to act without any kind of democratic legitimisation for much longer. When Lieutenant General Lucius D.Clay (born 1897) addressed the meeting in Stuttgart, he provided the minister presidents with fairly precise instructions for the establishment of a Länder council (Länderraf), while, in the same voice of authority, firmly disclaiming any responsibility for the acts of the German administrators. The idea of establishing a central zonal authority with relatively far-reaching powers did not meet with universal approval: Wilhelm Hoegner from Bavaria wanted the Länder to remain the most important units, while Wilhelm Kaisen of Bremen asked whether it would not be more convenient for them to be linked with the British zone, in which they would form an enclave if American control were to be confirmed there. Clay left the minister presidents to discuss such issues amongst themselves after his initial, largely improvised address, the final part of which is quoted here.

In increasing the governmental authority at the Land level we still believe in the operation of Germany as an economic unit. We are supporting the establishment of central administrative machinery for 53

54

Germany 1945–1949

finance, industry, transport, communications and foreign trade. We also believe that such administrative agencies are desirable for food and agriculture and labour. However, these administrative machines do not exist now. Länder units have been formed in our zones. It is essential that there be complete co-ordination of governmental matters between these Länder units. This is especially true of the special Administrative Services such as post offices, transport etc. which must serve all Länder. The securing of this co-ordination is your job and not ours. We do not wish to establish a zonal German capital in the United States Zone as we believe that central administrative machinery is essential to the operation of Germany as an economic unit. Therefore, we propose as an interim measure to establish here in Stuttgart for our zone a council of minister presidents. You will meet periodically to confer on mutual problems. You may establish a small secretariat and staff to which you may delegate such of your authority as you deem desirable. A small American staff will be assigned at Stuttgart to supervise the work of the council and to see that it keeps within the scope of approved United States policy. Since you will in fact develop the measures necessary for full coordination between your units it may be assumed that each of you individually will carry out what you have agreed to collectively. Today we want you to draw your charter for our approval and to set a date for another meeting as soon as possible at which you will select your secretariat, develop the methods of financing your organisation, and establish your secretariat in office. In turning over this meeting for the preparation of this charter I wish to emphasise that within expressed US policy ‘yours is the responsibility’. We will not dictate to you except as you violate expressed policy. We expect you to accept and to carry out your responsibility within that policy. Source: Ansprache des GenLt. Clay, in: Akten zur Vorgeschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1945–1949: Band 1: September 1945–Dezember 1946, bearbeitet von Walter Vogel und Christoph Weisz (Munich, 1976) p. 127

2.2. THE AUSTRIAN ISSUE One of the trickiest questions the Allies had to handle was the treatment of Austria. It had been part of the Reich from March 1938, when Chancellor Kurt von Schuschnigg gave in to a German ultimatum and handed over

Partitions

55

governmental powers to Arthur von Seyss-Inquart, the Austrian Minister of Interior Affairs. Seyss-Inquart called in the Wehrmacht on the pretext of a threat to public order: the troops met with no resistance and were met in many places by cheering crowds. After the takeover, officially termed Anschluss (joining), there was no more significant opposition to Nazi rule in Austria than in the Reich itself, and Hitler could feel secure about the reception of his triumphal procession culminating in a mass rally in Vienna on 15 March, only four days after the first German soldier had set foot across the border. The view that Austria was merely a victim of Nazi aggression was thus hard to maintain, however great the outside pressure had been before the annexation; but many Austrians naturally preferred to subscribe to such a simplification of historical fact. They received some help from abroad, especially from Britain, which had shown a considerable reluctance to take sides in the events of 1938. The Allies were in agreement about the reversal of the annexation, and on the part of Britain, there was some backing for a subsequent integration of Austria with some of its neighbour countries to the south and east. The British diplomat Walford Selby had spent some years in Vienna before the war. Writing for the readers of an American newspaper published in German in Munich two days before the first post-war government of Austria received official recognition, he was one of those who contributed to the myth of complete victimisation which had a lasting effect on Austrian minds, recently highlighted once more through the Waldheim affair.

Within a few months after the fall of Austria in 1938 those events set in which developed into a global conflagration, during which the British Empire for many months had to pass through the valley of dark shadows, alone and without help in a struggle which posed a greater threat to Austria than any other event in its long history. Shortly after his appointment as the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill had already taken up the cause of Austria by including the country among the nations that were the victims of aggression, and for whose liberation the British Empire was continuing to fight. After that, he spoke out for Austria on a few more occasions. His most famous statement will certainly never be forgotten by the Austrian people. He said: ‘We on this island will always remember the fact that Austria was the first victim of the Nazi attacks. The English people see in the liberation of Austria from the Prussian yoke a just cause, to which they will never be unfaithful.’ The policy expressed in this declaration took firm shape in the decision taken at the Moscow conference of 1943 by the three great powers, the United States, Soviet Russia, and Great Britain.

56

Germany 1945–1949

The re-establishment and preservation of Austrian independence was designated in plain words as one of the major points of the great powers’ peace programme. Today, the goal has been achieved. Austria has been liberated. But what interests the Austrian people most at this moment, is the question of how the intentions of the powers are to be put into practice in detail, to secure their welfare. To find an answer to this question, we must refer back to the settlement of 1919, the treaty of St Germain.1 All major authorities are in agreement that of all the faults of the 1919 treaty, perhaps the greatest one was that no measures were taken to prevent the dissolution of the economic unity of the AustroHungarian state. Source: Walford Selby, ‘Österreichs Zukunft’, in: Die Neue Zeitung: Eine amerikanische Zeitung für die deutsche Bevölkerung (18 October 1945) p. 1

Note 1

The document establishing the Austrian Republic after World War I, according to Austrian views not as a legal successor to the Austro-Hungarian monarchy; a similar treaty as the foundation of the new republic (Staatsvertrag) was drafted in 1947, but not signed until 1955

2.3. A DIVISIVE MERGER The position of the Social Democrats has always been a key factor on the political scene in twentiety-century Germany. From 1945, the SPD had to redefine its position with regard to the choice between a Western-type democracy or a people’s democracy with communist leadership, or, in economic terms, between extensive socialisation and the restoration of prewar capitalism. In the Soviet zone, Walter Ulbricht (born 1893), member of the Central Committee of the KPD and newly returned from exile in the USSR, spearheaded an ardent campaign to win over the SPD and establish a new party unifying the Left. This new party, the Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands (SED, Socialist Unity Party of Germany) was eventually formed in April 1946; however, the SPD in the Western zones did not follow suit. Most SPD leaders in the West were extremely wary of the proposed fusion, especially Kurt Schumacher, while in the East some prominent communists including Wilhelm Pieck, later to become first president of the GDR, criticised undue haste in efforts to unite the parties of the Left. Ulbricht’s argument is that if there is no firm commitment to an alliance with the KPD, the SPD will be driven towards an alliance with the parties of the Right, effecting the restoration of that system which had given rise to fascism. He also advocates the unity of the Left as the means to preserve the unity of the nation: the fact

Partitions

57

that the SPD went different ways in the East and the West was in effect a major step towards a lasting division, for which Ulbricht puts the blame firmly on the Western side. The interview took place shortly after a joint conference of SPD and KPD had supported the merger plan; it is a carefully orchestrated piece of propagandistic monologue with occasional cue questions. Interview with a representative of Radio Berlin on 11 January 1946

Question: It is obvious from the press that a group of social democratic leaders in the west does not agree with the decisions of the December conference on the establishment of the unity of the working class. Answer: I am of the opinion and I believe that I express the conception of the workers in the west, too, when I say that it would be better if these social democratic leaders were to use their forces in the struggle against the fascist reactionaries instead of fighting against unity. Before all workers in West Germany I want to ask the clear question of which way are you to go? There are two ways; one is the way of unity of the working class, the union of the two working-class parties, because only this can create that centre of strength which safeguards peace and democratic development. After the repeated failure of the old forces since the founding of the Reich now the working class as a united force must take over the leading role in the democratic development. Question: And what is the other way? Answer: The other way which a group of social democratic leaders in the west want to go is the old way which in the Weimar Republic led to the step-by-step liquidation of democratic achievements. It will again lead to the formation by these social democrats of a coalition with bourgeois parties and the bourgeois parties will take the social democrats in tow. We consider this way fatal from the national aspect, too, for such a policy allows the old reactionary forces to play one part of the people off against the other and hold their old positions. I ask all working people, would it not be better for the German working class to unite and carry through a uniform German policy? Question: Do you not see a connection between the decision of the joint conference of December and the will of our people to unify Germany?

58

Germany 1945–1949

Answer: To ask the question in this way does not seem to me to suffice. The decision to establish the unity of the working class means more, it directly serves the safeguarding of the unity of Germany. We communists are a united party for the whole of Germany led by a central committee. We can therefore not understand it when a group of social democratic leaders in the west demands that the parties separate according to zones. This means to play directly into the hands of those forces which want the division of Germany. I say frankly that we also want the unity of the working class because that is the decisive guarantee for the unity of Germany. And therefore the union of the two working-class parties is a question of interest to the entire German people. Everyone who opposes the establishment of the unity of the working class acts, consciously or not, against the safeguarding of peace and thus against the unity of Germany. Source: The union of the working-class parties—a national task’, in: Walter Ulbricht, Whither Germany? Speeches and Essays on the National Question (Dresden, 1966) pp. 131 f.

2.4. THE EASTERN BORDER Before the war, nearly ten million Germans had lived in those Eastern provinces which were to be, as the Potsdam agreement had it, under Polish and Soviet administration. The fact that the German population was to be expelled from all areas east of the new border along the rivers Oder and Neisse made it quite clear that this was an annexation: but the Allies, whose moral justification for fighting the war had been slightly stretched by the extent to which it was waged against the civilian population of Germany, were not prepared to call a spade a spade in the case of this major territorial change, which brought new hardship for millions of people. By insisting on the euphemism that this was a temporary arrangement, they created even more problems, for those who had been expelled could find some scope for their claims in the vague wording of the Potsdam protocol, which had reserved any final decision for a future peace treaty. In July 1946, the attempt to create a Wirtschaftliche Flüchtlingspartei (Economic Refugee Party) in the American zone was frustrated by the military authorities, who foresaw a persistent source of problems with Poland and the Soviet Union in a separate representation of relocated Easterners. However, many people shared the feeling that at least a clearer definition of the new situation was needed, and that went for the Soviet zone as well. In an article entitled ‘Clarify the Eastern question!’ published on 14 September 1946, Neues Deutschland (New Germany, official organ of the SED see 2.3.) rejects Western claims for a revision of the Oder/Neisse border, but appeals to patriotic feelings with the fairly idealistic suggestion that a better Germany would have more hope of changing the status quo.

Partitions

59

The enemies of German unity have for a good while been busy agitating in an irresponsible, chauvinist campaign concerning the so-called Eastern question. They do not shy away from employing former Nazi propagandists to promote their cause. It is time to make a stand against this work of subversion, which is becoming more and more damaging to Germany’s future. Whoever, with regard to this question, deviates from the principle of looking after our common national interest is playing into the hands of reaction and is damaging those for whom he claims to be speaking, but whom he is merely abusing in reality. Recently, comrade Grotewohl1 declared in his speech at Rostock which we reported yesterday, that a final settlement over the eastern border had to be reached; comrade Pieck2 said the same in Schwerin and added: ‘Our people must do all to gain the trust of the other nations, by destroying the forces of aggression and developing democracy, so that when the borders are finally fixed by the Allied powers, the most vital needs of our people will be taken into account.’ Every reasonable person, everyone in Germany who has a thorough knowledge and a proper assessment of the actual facts created by Hitler’s war, will agree with our statement that the Eastern problem must be dealt with without demagogical mendacity. Max Fechner,3 top candidate of the SED for Berlin, also recently made a statement about the Eastern question, when he talked in a conference about the Byrnes speech.4 He said literally: ‘As to the Eastern border of Germany, I would like to declare that the Socialist Unity Party of Germany will resist every reduction of German territory. The Eastern border is merely a provisional one, and can only be fixed permanently at the peace conference, with all major victorious nations taking part.’ We favour discussion about the Eastern question. But nobody should believe that German wishes will be listened to as long as militarists, landed gentry5 and war capitalists exert any kind of direct or indirect influence, as e.g. the former big landowner from Silesia, Count von Donnersmarck, who today is a member of the AEG’s6 board of directors in Western Germany. This is to say: Only as far as our internal situation becomes truly antifascist and democratic, but also antichauvinistic, our environment will come to trust us, and our voice will have an honest ring in the peace negotiations. Source: Hermann Weber (ed.), DDR: Dokumente zur Geschichte der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik 1945–1985 (Munich, 1986) pp. 87 f.

60

Germany 1945–1949

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6

Otto Grotewohl, joint leader of the SED and former leader of the SPD in the Soviet zone Wilhelm Pieck, see 2.3. Member of the SED politburo, former president of the SPD central committee See 5.3. Junker in the original text Allgemeine Elektrizitäts-Gesellschaft, manufacturers of electrical goods

2.5. THE LEGAL STATUS OF GERMANY What kind of an entity Germany under Allied control was in terms of international law was not just a conundrum for members of the legal profession, but also had practical consequences. While reparations were extracted from the four zones by the occupying powers, who was to pay off the debts the Reich had left behind, and who was responsible for compensating the victims of the Nazi regime at home and abroad? There was no peace treaty, and no legal successor to the government which had simply ceased to exist: so were the Allies responsible? Meanwhile, certain changes within the occupied territories had taken place. In August 1946, an economic fusion of the British and American zones had been agreed on, with the French zone remaining on the sidelines. Not having taken part in the Potsdam conference, the French government did not feel bound to the decisions taken there, especially with regard to economic unity. They favoured a division into separate states, with the Ruhr remaining under permanent international control. But whatever the options were, by 1947, when a book by W.Friedmann reviewing the period of Allied occupation to that date was published in London, there was a general consensus that the situation called for clearer definition through a settlement which would provide a firmer basis for further developments. The author, professor of Public Law in Melbourne, with degrees from London and Berlin, is critical of Allied achievements in living up to the moral standards set by themselves, and—on a more formal level—of the persistence of divisions which made it difficult to apply the concept of sovereignty to this case.

The realisation of the unprecedented lengths of control exercised by the Allies in Germany has led some writers to the conclusion that Germany has in fact been annexed and the war has ended through complete conquest (debellatio). But this, as shown, would make nonsense of the whole purpose of the machinery of Allied control in Germany. Nor does the view that Germany has ceased to exist as a state, but the four Powers as joint sovereigns administer ‘Germany as a separate international entity’ provide a

Figure 3 Berlin Alexanderplatz, October 1945: the victors have made their mark

62

Germany 1945–1949

more satisfactory solution. This theory would conveniently dispose of any Allied responsibility for Germany’s debts but at the cost of consistency with International Law. The recognition of a new state would presuppose that the new Germany is a state, that it is an entity with a sovereign government. What legal character, other than of a state, could the ‘separate international entity’ have? My own submission would be that, by tacit agreement between the occupying powers and other states, the rules of belligerency have been suspended and replaced by a de facto application of the laws of peace. This does not fully explain certain differentiations in the treatment accorded by the states at war with any of the occupying powers, but it is nearest to the facts of the situation. A status mixtus, between war and peace, would not be without precedent in International Law. It is not, however, surprising that International Law—inadequate to cope with many problems of our days—should not be fully equipped to deal with an entirely unprecedented situation. No amount of ingenuity can produce a watertight legal answer to the problem; but the following would seem to be the least strained interpretation of a very extraordinary situation: (1) Germany has not ceased to exist as a state. (2) There is no German authority capable of exercising the functions of statehood and government in Germany. (3) The functions of government are exercised by the four commanders-in-chief, jointly on the Control Council, and separately in their zones, on behalf of the four Allied governments. (4) The powers of the four Allied governments are unlimited except for agreement among them to preserve the continuity of the German state. (5) Although the war has not been finally terminated either by conquest or by a treaty of peace, the laws of peace apply de facto to the relations between Germany as represented by the Allied control authorities and the outer world. (6) The solution of such problems as the responsibility for Germany’s public debts or the continued validity of pre-war treaties is left in suspense as going beyond the purposes of Allied government in Germany. (7) Eventually, a treaty of peace will either revive the full statehood of Germany, or replace her by a number of separate states, which will seek to obtain recognition according to International Law.

Partitions

63

Source: W.Friedmann, The Allied Military Government of Germany (London, 1947) The Library of World Affairs, eds George W.Keeton and Georg Schwarzenberger, vol. 8, pp. 66 ff.

2.6. THE PROGRESS OF DISRUPTION On 5 June 1947 the minister presidents of all German Länder arrived in Munich to confer on the German situation. The hard and lasting winter of 1946/7 had brought the economic crisis to a head: more than two years after the end of the war, food rations had reached a new low, and the fuel shortage they had experienced made many Germans shiver at the thought of the next cold season. Things had not been improving under Allied occupation, and it was not obvious where a change could come from. The German administrations seemed an unlikely source, in spite of the concern and the good intentions of individuals. At the preliminary meeting, the delegates from the Soviet zone insisted that out of concern for the starving population, the question of a centralisation of government should be put first, for the existing divisions were the root of the problem. The others would not give way, arguing mainly that enough weight to the demands for more unity would be given during the debate on individual issues. There was no agreement; the Eastern delegates withdrew to confer amongst themselves, returned to put their case again, and left the meeting altogether when there was no positive reaction. There were accusations of their behaviour as deliberate sabotage; the Bavarian minister president Hans Ehard stated at the time that it meant the splitting up of Germany. This was a confusion of the symbolic significance and the actual importance of the act: the really important decisions were not taken by the Länder chiefs in any case. Furthermore, the delegation from the Soviet zone seems to have got a less than enthusiastic welcome from the start, and their exodus seems to have greatly facilitated the discussion. The extract from the minutes sets in shortly after they retired for the first time.

Minister president Dr Boden1 explains that now, after the exodus from the Russian zone had taken place, he could quite plainly say what the issue was. First he must thank minister president Höcker2 for his understanding of the situation in the French zone. However, he could not agree with the format suggested by minister president Paul.3 He asked to consider the following: Even if only one representative from each zone should speak after the words of minister president Ehard,4 nobody from the French zone could participate. Then, however, everyone would ask themselves why the French zone remained silent. Thus, right from the start, the lack of agreement would be made clear to all the world. He asked not to misinterpret his words. They thought the same; but people also had to respect the fact that they were bound

64

Germany 1945–1949

by the orders of their occupying power. If merely the manner of minister president Dr Paul became public knowledge, they would have to fear being called back by a telegram. They had been given permission to participate only to discuss economic questions; he also did not see what the gentlemen from the Russian zone were on about, their motions could in any case be considered in the discussion of each individual point on the agenda, especially with Lüdemann’s5 suggestion that one should concentrate on three major topics.6 This could even be said when debating the first point, the food crisis. None of the speakers in the debate could be ordered to be quiet. Thus, already in the discussion about the food shortage, the idea of unity could be stressed. Then they would not be concerned, but as soon as that became a separate point on the agenda or as soon as the members of the delegations were asked to speak for their zones, they would be handicapped, and this could only have negative consequences. He asked for a common position against this. Minister president Lüdemann states that he should have said this to the representatives of the Soviet zone. Minister president Dr Boden replies he had intended to say it, but they had left before he could do so. Minister president Dr Ehard remarks he knew that all this was going to happen if the talks were not limited—as they quite easily could be—to a sober and unemotional discussion of the programme. The concentration on three major points could instantly be achieved by grouping topics together; the topics were not so huge after all. Minister president Dr Maier7 declares his impression of the programme was indeed that things were to be made to fit a specific pattern. He would prefer to hear a word that led to a dissonance the following day, but he was against such a ‘little boxes’ democracy. Source: Rolf Steininger, ‘Zur Geschichte der Münchener MinisterpräsidentenKonferenz 1947’, in: Vierteljahreshefte für Zeitgeschichte 23/4 (1975) p. 434

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

Wilhelm Boden (born 1890), minister president of Rhineland-Palatinate (CDU) Wilhelm Höcker (born 1886), minister president of Mecklenburg (SED, previously SPD) Rudolf Paul (born 1883), minister president of Thuringin (SED), left the Soviet zone soon after the conference Hans Ehard (born 1887), minister president of Bavaria (CSU) Hermann Lüdemann (born 1880), minister president of SchleswigHolstein (SPD)

Partitions 6 7

65

The food crisis, the economic crisis, and the refugee crisis, according to Lüdemann’s suggestion Reinhold Maier (born 1889), minister president of Württemberg-Baden (DVP, Democratic People’s Party, a forerunner of the liberal Freie Demokratische Partei—Free Democratic Party—FDP)

2.7. THE PUBLIC IMAGE By January 1948, the confrontation between the Western Allies and the USSR had developed into a fully fledged ‘cold war’—a new expression of uncertain origin which seemed to arise almost simultaneously in a number of languages and, easily translatable, became the common global shorthand for a situation where the hostility between former brothers-in-arms was threatening to lead to a new military confrontation. Eric Arthur Blair, alias George Orwell, was writing about the role of the propaganda machine in selling the overnight reassessment of former friends as fiendish foes through officially administered amnesia in 1984, as this was actually happening on both sides of the Iron Curtain—another new shorthand phrase hit upon by Winston Churchill after some experimentation with alternative words. It had become apparent that parts of Germany would end up on either side of the divide between the spheres of influence of East and West; it was equally clear how the blame for this would be apportioned by the two camps involved. To ensure that the Germans in the occupied territories would receive and accept the versions sanctioned by their respective occupiers was of prime importance, for too much criticism would have endangered the future loyalty of those just undergoing the transformation from fiendish foes to friends and allies. The German people, especially opinion leaders, were now to be pampered and wooed: a drastic reversal of roles hinted at in the following letter from Walter Menzel (born 1901), Minister of Interior Affairs in Northrhine-Westphalia, to Kurt Schumacher (born 1895), leader of the SPD (see 2.3., 11.5.). Menzel had been invited by the Labour Party politician and head of the administration of German affairs in London, Lord Pakenham, Earl of Longford (born 1905), for a couple of talks on 21 and 22 January 1948, about which he reports back to his party chief in a letter dated 24 January.

From talking with him I gained the impression that they are indeed willing to take action against Russian-communist policy, and to ask our advice in this matter. A certain helplessness was obvious. Therefore I think that we cannot shy from the duty to express our opinion and to make suggestions. Moreover, I think this is necessary because it is the only way for us to get ahead of the CDU and gain influence on British decisions. However, it may seem advisable that my statements made to Pakenham be of a merely personal nature, and not binding for the SPD. As to the content of proposals, the following ideas:

66

Germany 1945–1949

a. first, again referring Pakenham to what I have already told him. With regard to this, I was able to quote above all the guidelines published in England as ‘About the politics of German socialists’, especially the letter by the late comrade Hans Vogel of 25 April 1944 to the Labour Party, in which even then the dangers of the decisions made in Tehran1 and Yalta2 and the division of Germany were pointed out; b. as for the question how the German public could be better enlightened about the good will of the English government and about the guilt of the Russians in case of a division of Germany, Fritz Heine3 ought to make some suggestions. (Pakenham asked among other things if one should increase the number of copies of Die Welt4 even more. Also, he was not informed of the fact that political parties are excluded from the commission for the supervision of radio); c. one would have to demand a better distinction of the SPD from the CDU; a difficult point, which in the West might be best discussed with reference to the prohibition of the SPD in the Eastern zone, as this prohibition proved in which party the Russians saw their biggest opponent; d. immediate realisation of the Marshall Plan; e. integration of Germany into the Marshall Plan; f. recognition of the transition of industrial monopolies and primary industries into public ownership; g. official halt of industrial dismantling; this would be the best solution to the problem under b.; h. official statement to the effect that the Ruhr will not come under international administration, but will remain part of Germany as before; i. clear suggestions for a central German government, so that in case of a Russian refusal even the common people will be enabled to see clearly who is to blame for a possible division of Germany, so that the surge of nationalism, certainly to be expected in the event of a division, will direct itself not against the Western democrats, but against the East. Source: Klaus-Jörg Ruhl (ed.), Neubeginn und Restauration. Dokumente zur Vorgeschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1945–1949 (Munich, 2nd edn, 1984) pp. 463 f. Notes 1 Location of the first meeting between Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin, 26 November to 3 December 1943

Partitions 2 3 4

67

Town on the Crimean peninsula which saw the meeting of the same ‘big three’ between 4 and 11 February 1945 SPD party spokesman, formerly a member of the SPD committee in exile in London Literally The World, daily newspaper established by the British military government, privatised in 1953

2.8. THE BERLIN CRISIS There had been a steady growth of tension between the Western allies and the USSR during the first part of 1948, with the policies that would bring East and West into different economic, political, and finally military blocs. The first move of 1948 was the reorganisation of the united British and American zones, with a strengthening of the German layers of administration which began to resemble a full-scale government. Then the French, in return for economic integration of the Saarland into France, allowed their zone to join what was clearly the emerging Western state, upon which the Soviet Union left the Allied Control Council, which had become virtually defunct as East and West developed their zones independently, along radically different lines. Matters came to a head after the currency reform in the Western zones, over the status of Berlin. The Soviet Union wanted to prevent the influx of the new Deutsche Mark, which replaced the Reichsmark in the Western zones on 20 June, into their zone of occupation. They closed the borders completely and staged their own currency reform in the Soviet zone including East Berlin; the West responded by unilaterally introducing their new currency into West Berlin and by staging a gigantic air lift operation to carry supplies to the Western sectors of the city. In the House of Commons, the Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin (born 1885) defends the Western position, trying to win support for a firm line against Soviet demands.

Among the things alleged to be the cause of the present trouble is the question of currency reform. I was very glad to hear the right honourable Gentleman the Member for Warwick and Leamington (Mr. Eden)1 say that this had been too long delayed. This House pressed us, as I have indicated, over and over again. It was patently obvious that we could not get production and could not develop the export trade and could not even give the Eastern zones what they required from us2 unless we could re-establish the wage system on a new currency basis. We had to get it and we could not be delayed any longer. In fact, we could not get a viable Western Germany at all unless this reform was carried out. We tried to get it on a quadripartite basis. The discussions went on for months and we were making a final effort when the Russians

68

Germany 1945–1949

decided to walk out of the Control Council and all Four-Power negotiations on this vital matter ceased. I re-emphasise that right up to the last minute, we were trying to get agreement. When the Russians walked out of the Control Council, that made it unworkable. What were His Majesty’s Government to do? Just take it lying down and do nothing? We decided that we had to go on and that we could not leave Germany as it was. We have proceeded and the currency reform has been carried out in the Western zones. However, we took a great precaution over Berlin which is right in the middle of the Soviet zone. General Robertson3 informed the Russians that we had no intention of applying the new currency of the Western zones to the Berlin sectors and that we would still endeavour to settle that question on a Four-Power basis unless and until the Russians forced the issue. We were anxious not to complicate or embarrass the situation in Berlin. The Soviet authorities were notified in advance of our plans. Then we had this claim,4 and I would ask honourable Members in the Committee to take note of it because it is fundamental. Source: Ernest Bevin, House of Commons Debates, 30 June 1948, vol. 452, col. 2226, in: Beate Ruhm von Oppen (ed.), Documents on Germany under occupation 1945–1954 (Oxford, 1955) p. 311

Notes 1 2 3 4

Sir Anthony Eden, Conservative, Foreign Secretary 1940–5 i.e. reparations from the Western zone due to the USSR Sir Brian Hubert Robertson, Commander-in-Chief of the British Occupational Forces in Germany That the Mark introduced in the Soviet zone on 23 June 1946 be the sole currency valid in all sectors of Berlin

2.9. THE FINAL SPLIT In 1949, two German republics were founded. The Federal Republic of Germany’s Basic Law was proclaimed in Bonn on 8 May, entering into force on 21 September under a new Occupation Statute. The Constitution of the German Democratic Republic entered into force on 7 October, the day of its proclamation, having been prepared during the months of the Berlin blockade and approved by the German People’s Council, the predecessor of the GDR parliament, on 19 March. Both constitutions recognise the Länder as primary constituents, while the difference lies in the degree of autonomy given to Land governments. A common feature is also the insistence on the preservation or re-creation of national unity in spite of the fact that the creation of two German

Partitions

69

states helped to institutionalise the division between East and West. The passages quoted here, two prefaces or preambles (Präambeln) and article one from the GDR constitution, are two different, yet similar, attempts to reconcile wishful thinking with contradictory action. Article one of the GDR constitution was radically altered in the revised version of 1968; the preamble to the Federal Republic’s Basic Law still stands, with minor revisions introduced in the same year, although its claim that the FRG is the representative of the whole of Germany is no longer the basis for foreign policy, as it was in the 1950s when the recognition of the GDR by a foreign state was regarded as a hostile act towards the Federal Republic. However, the government of the FRG never officially recognised the GDR as a sovereign state, and always insisted that the diplomatic representatives exchanged between the two countries should not have the title of ‘ambassador’, whereas the GDR came to claim that there were two German nationalities and the two German republics should regard one another as foreign countries.

Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany, Approved by the Parliamentary Council in Bonn, 8 May 1949 Preamble Conscious of its responsibility before God and before man, inspired by the resolve to preserve its national and political unity and to serve world peace as an equal partner in a united Europe, the German people, in the Länder Baden, Bavaria, Bremen, Hamburg, Hesse, Lower Saxony, Northrhine-Westphalia, Rhineland-Palatinate, SchleswigHolstein, Württemberg-Baden and Württemberg-Hohenzollern, has, by the virtue of its constituent power, enacted this Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany to give a new order to political life for a transitional period. It has also acted on behalf of those Germans to whom participation was denied. The entire German people is called upon to achieve, by free selfdetermination, the unity and freedom of Germany. Constitution of the German Democratic Republic, Promulgated 7 October 1949 Preamble The German people, imbued with the desire to safeguard human liberty and rights, to reshape collective and economic life in accordance with the principles of social justice, to serve social

70

Germany 1945–1949

Figure 4 Konrad Adenauer signs the Basic Law of the Federal Republic (Bonn, 23 May 1949)

progress, and to promote a secure peace and amity with all peoples, have adopted this constitution. A. Fundamentals of State Authority Article 1 Germany is an indivisible democratic republic, the foundations of which are the German Länder. The Republic decides on all issues which are essential to the existence and development of the German people as a whole, all other issues being decided upon by independent action of the Länder. As a rule, decisions of the Republic are carried out by the Länder. There is only one German nationality. Source: United States Department of State, Documents on Germany 1944– 1985 (Washington, undated) Department of State Publication 9446, pp. 221 and 278

3

Natives and aliens

3.1. NON-FRATERNISATION The policy of prohibiting contact between the occupying troops and the German population in the British and American zones was known as ‘non-fraternisation’. As the British military governor Field Marshal Montgomery explained to the Germans in an official announcement on 10 June 1945, the purpose of the order was to bring home to them the fact that they as a people had been responsible for the war, and could not expect Allied troops to behave as if nothing had happened. Initially, any form of contact was forbidden, and even a soldier playing with a German toddler could be punished. Punishments tended not to be very harsh, though, and there was many a GI who did not mind paying the fine of 65 dollars for having asked a German Fräulein (Miss) the 65dollar-question. In the Soviet zone, where the occupying power believed in the existence of true anti-fascists, there was no indiscriminate non-fraternisation order, whereas French soldiers who crossed the Rhine in 1945 were instructed by a pamphlet not to trust anyone, not even those who appeared to be victims of the Nazi regime. If any Frenchman, after years of German occupation, needed reminding of what was considered the proper attitude towards the German people, this document provided him with such a reminder. It is obviously written in a hurry, using simple and direct language to make a strongly emotional appeal to the readers’ sense of duty, of pride, and of self-preservation.

CONFIDENTIAL! MEMORANDUM FOR THE FRENCH MILITARY IN GERMANY FRENCH SOLDIER, BEWARE: – of the German posing as a friend, – of the German smiling at you, 71

72

Germany 1945–1949

They are maybe preparing your downfall. In any case, They are thinking of revenge. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE IN ENEMY TERRITORY, – You have won the war, now you must win the PEACE. On your present behaviour depends the fate of your children. – Any German of any age and either sex is an enemy to whom the end justifies the means: – the child, the woman, the old man who implore your pity are the Nazi agents. – the anti-fascists incarcerated in the prisons are party cadres camouflaged and placed in ambush for revenge. – The German has been organising his revenge for many months. – beware of the ground on which you set foot, – of the water you drink, – of the woman who smiles at you, – of the stranger calling himself a friend: he is a Nazi agent. – This is why every contact with the German is forbidden to you, and why security measures are in force. – do not let yourself be lured into their houses, – all German establishments are out of bounds, do not go there, your life depends on it. – do not ever go about alone, and never unarmed. – member of a signals unit, dispatch rider, beware: you are especially threatened on account of your task. – watch your speech, guard your arms. – always carry your identification. – Let your attitude, your demeanour, your discipline be perfect: – they must impress themselves on the enemy. – our Allies have their eyes fixed on you, and the enemy propaganda will lap up every incident, the interest of FRANCE is at stake. – do not administer justice yourself, this is the task of your superiors: they will be unpitying, the sanctions will be immediate. – Let your hatred and your victorious superiority show in your behaviour, but not in excess or in acts of violence; pillage and theft are grave military offences, punishable by death.

Natives and aliens

73

– Aid your superiors in their task, report to them all the information you can gather. Source: Marc Hillel, L’Occupation française en Allemagne, 1945–1949 (Paris, 1983) pp. 76 ff.

3.2. IMPRESSIONS OF GERMAN WOMEN Judy Harden, born in England in 1911, was a correspondent for the New York Sun newspaper in Europe during and after the war. In an article published in 1950, she gives the readers at home her impressions of German women as people for whom she has little sisterly compassion. Her moral condemnation of post-war female behaviour is unqualified, and, though other aspects enter into the judgement as well, sexual attitudes are the key issue. In Germany, nearly half of the population were adult women, with the number of adult males decimated to about one third of the total. Many men had died, were prisoners of war, or counted as missing persons (Vermisste), and quite a few of those remaining had been too old for military service. There was thus a surplus of nubile women, or a shortage of nubile men, which made the victorious soldiers even more attractive to German females: they were mostly young, wellfed, with plenty of time to spare, far away from home, and, especially the Americans, in a position to reciprocate favours with welcome material presents. Of course there were relationships of all kinds, mercenary and romantic, shortlived and lifelong, and all shades in between. In Barden’s picture, there does not seem to be any room for shades: the contempt is that of a shocked Puritan reporting the manners of some barbaric tribe to a reader who can please his or her voyeuristic fancy in all righteousness. Although she admits that social behaviour is to some extent a reflection of material circumstances, she refuses to modify her condemnation which is implicitly based on the notion of a symbiotic relationship between fascism and sexual licence. The fact that Judy Harden was, in 1945, an unmarried career person in her mid-thirties might also be seen as not entirely irrelevant to her attitudes towards German girls.

My first encounter with German women in the mass, so to speak, was with a group of Blitzmädels, similar to our WAC1 but in job only, who had been captured just outside Munich. They were being marched through the streets by a few uncomfortable and tired-looking GIs who obviously thought it pretty silly to keep a gun trained on such a beaten-up crew. The Blitzmädels were filthy. Their uniforms were torn. Many were without caps or stockings and many were limping badly, but they held their heads high. They were the counterpart of their Nazi brothers, arrogant and disdainful.

74

Germany 1945–1949

While with many this attitude lends a certain amount of dignity, it did just the reverse to those maidens. They were dumpy, bulging in all the wrong places, and exceedingly fat. There was something pathetically stupid about them as they spat between their teeth and glared at the crowds of Americans and Germans watching them. Eventually they were housed in a camp, given some soap and delousing powder, and told to get on with the job of cleaning themselves up. Then the fun started. They vied and fought with each other for the attentions of the embarrassed American guards. There were hair tearings and face scratchings and the inevitable denunciations. They were without any moral sense at all, sun-bathing in full view of the public in filthy bits of underwear, offering themselves to any American who happened along. That was over four years ago, when Americans were hating everything German except cameras. The mädels got nowhere, though they must have swung their incredibly large hips into a state of exhaustion trying. At the time I told myself all German women couldn’t be as bad as these. These were what the Wehrmacht had produced; there must be women who had stayed at home and retained some decent instincts. If there were, I wasn’t meeting them. As we captured town after town the same things happened, women offering themselves and denouncing each other. It became a sickening business to see one’s own sex fallen so low. It was usually a woman who would come crying into Military Government with some secret information about her neighbour who was hiding a German soldier in her cellar. It was usually a woman who, after a German had been screened and given a job, would come cringing into the office with some damaging information about his past. In this way they hoped to ingratiate themselves with the Americans. They gave Intelligence a hard time tracking down the various leads with the denouncement of their onetime friends. Never having known the same fear these women knew, nor ever having been as hungry as they, I tried not to judge too harshly. But somehow I didn’t believe the French women had acted as badly when the Germans occupied their country. Neither could I believe the American or British women would behave this way if placed in a similar position. The German women just seemed to have no sense of loyalty.

Natives and aliens

75

Figure 5 A smile, a dollar bill and a hand signal: communication can work in spite of language problems Source: Judy Harden, ‘Candy-bar romance—women of Germany’, in: Arthur Settel (ed.), This is Germany (Freeport, repr., 1971) pp. 161 f.

Note 1

The US Women’s Army Corps

3.3. THE PATTON CASE General George Patton (born 1885) was one of the most famous military commanders in post-war Germany, for various reasons. Eccentricity of dress

76

Germany 1945–1949

is a rare phenomenon among people wearing uniform, but Patton used to elaborate on his by the addition of a decorative ’45 colt, or a goldplated helmet. He liked his image, and the public limelight: he disliked the Russians and all they stood for. Long before roll-back became official US policy, this American saw the Germans as potential Allies against communism who should not be put off by unpleasant denazification procedures. To emphasise this, he was prepared to play down the evils of fascism to an extent which was found unacceptable by his superiors, and after a statement at a Munich press conference in September 1945 he was demoted from his command post in Munich. However, Patton had to a certain extent merely anticipated the change of American attitudes towards the Germans which was to set in on a broader basis in the following years. Patton did not live to see it: on 21 December 1945, he died in a car accident never fully explained, which gave rise to some rumours, and even suggestions that he had been murdered. His anti-communist attitude, it could be argued, would have singled him out as a target; but he was by no means alone in this respect. Some American observers found it hard to accept that the prevailing mood in post-war Germany was anti-capitalist, and that some other Americans regarded that as a good thing. One of the people deploring the extent of American support for the political Left in Germany from critics inside the US of policies concerning occupied territories, was Marshall Knappen, the author of the following account published in 1947, defending the relative political abstinence of US military government and finding some extremely mild words of criticism for George Smith Patton in retrospect.

The attitude of the average military government officer on this issue1 early drew the fire of the press correspondents. Whatever his own views might be, the typical officer, not having been told to support either the left or the right, naturally concluded that he was expected to tolerate whichever the German civilian populace seemed to prefer, as long as it did not come in the subversive Nazi or militarist categories. It was natural that many of the reporters—former war correspondents in most cases—should feel that military government officers were merely taking the line of least resistance instead of doing their duty. To be sure this duty was unpleasant, but it was not to be compared with what combat troops had gone through to put the military government officers in their comparatively luxurious offices. Furthermore, the leftist writers, who took the most interest in the problem, naturally equated democracy with the policy of the Social Democrats or with those even further to the left. In fact, one of the most vigorous critics of military government denazification policy, Mr. Victor Bernstein of PM,2 stated in a public forum a few months

Natives and aliens

77

later that he believed that only the Communists and those who were co-operating with them should receive American backing. Consequently, anything short of a general dispossession of property holders and virtual elimination of the churches as factors in German public life smacked of fascism to him and others with his point of view. The issue was brought to a head in September in one of the most unfortunate ways imaginable. At a press conference in Munich, General George S.Patton, then commanding the Third Army, which was occupying Bavaria, stated that the difference between the Nazis and their opponents was like that between Republicans and Democrats at home. No one familiar with the history of military government in Sicily would expect General Patton to be oversympathetic with the point of view of military government officers. Yet, in fact, his unhappily phrased statement was an effort to set forth in picturesque language what probably two out of three military government officers were thinking. But in the explosive situation in which he found himself, with memories of Buchenwald and Dachau3 still so clear, the words chosen merely served to enrage readers at home. In a large conference held by General Eisenhower4 at Frankfurt at the end of August, Patton had coolly suggested ignoring the denazification directives if experienced local government officials could not be had otherwise. After being firmly told at that time by General Lucius Clay,5 Eisenhower’s deputy for military government, that the directives would be observed, even reckless Patton should have realised that any attack on current American denazification policy would need careful phrasing. In the circumstances Eisenhower, who had protected Patton from the consequences of his earlier indiscretions, had no choice but to transfer him to the command of the skeleton Fifteenth Army, which had few more serious duties than to collect some historical records at its headquarters at Bad Nauheim north of Frankfurt. Source: Marshall Knappen, And Call it Peace (Chicago, 1947) pp. 128 ff.

Notes 1 2 3

Denazification (see 4.6.) The New York Post Meridian’s correspondent in Germany, who attended the Nuremberg trials and in 1947 published a book about that event called Final Judgement The locations of concentration camps near Weimar and Munich

78 4 5

Germany 1945–1949 Dwight David Eisenhower, former commander-in-chief of Allied invasion forces in Europe, first US military governor in Germany Lucius Dubignon Clay (see 2.1.), Eisenhower’s successor from 6 January 1947

3.4. BLACKS AMONG THE ARYANS For many Germans, the black soldiers in the US army were the first Negroes they had ever seen. In Nazi ideology, the black races were of course inferior, though not singled out as dangerous enemies like the Jews. Now the blacks came as part of a conquering army, which must have been an added insult to those who still believed in the superiority of the Aryans. The American military government, who probed the minds of thousands of Germans to monitor public opinion, were also interested in German attitudes towards black people; the report quoted here shows the results of a survey conducted in the industrial town of Mannheim by agents of the Office of Military Government for Germany US (OMGUS). The fact that the inhabitants of Mannheim find the Negroes friendlier than white GIs is maybe an indication of the fact that black people, who were of course still heavily discriminated against in the United States, would be less inclined to discriminate similarly against another people in its entirety, in spite of an inclination to misbehave, which is to be expected from soldiers in an occupied country. In return, most Germans regarded them with a certain detached curiosity, whereas some went further than that, as testified by the number of babies with darker skins born to German mothers in the postwar years. It is interesting, however, that the report does not give a figure for the percentage of positive answers to the question whether the blacks belong to an inferior race: one would have thought this would have been of interest to those who wanted to know about the survival of racist attitudes. It might have been equally interesting to have a comparable figure for responses to this question from a random sample of white US citizens at the time.

Report No.24 (22 October 1946) MANNHEIM ATTITUDES TOWARD NEGRO TROOPS Sample: 226 Mannheim adults (over 18 years of age). Interviewing dates: 27 September 1946. (7pp.) Nearly two thirds (64%) of the respondents reported having no personal relations with American soldiers. A fifth (20%) reported some relationships with white soldiers, eight per cent with Negro soldiers, and eight per cent with both. Although eight per cent said that they or some member of their family had had a pleasant experience with a Negro, 13 per cent reported an unpleasant experience; and a few (2%) told of both pleasant and unpleasant experiences. When asked about the behaviour of Negro soldiers, a

Natives and aliens

79

substantial number (36%) said that the Negroes were friendlier toward the German populace than white troops and only 16 per cent said they were less friendly. Most respondents (45%) reported that they were definitely not afraid of Negroes in Mannheim, as opposed to 15 per cent who expressed fears. When asked if the Negroes were inferior to the white race, 38 per cent of those who responded positively were also afraid of the Negroes, whereas only 21 per cent of those who answered negatively were afraid of them. The bulk (70%) of the respondents felt that the conduct of the Negro had been good. Of these, however, almost half (33 per cent of the total sample) noted exceptions; and an additional 17 per cent of the sample thought the Negroes’ behaviour to be improper. As many as four in five of those noting exceptions or improper behaviour could point to specific examples: the most common complaints were murder, rape, mistreatment of citizens, mishandling women and girls (24%); and drunken irresponsibility (13%). More young people under 30 (68%) reported the behaviour of the Negroes not always decent than did those over 30 (46%). Source: Anna J.Merritt, Richard J.Merritt (eds), Public Opinion in Occupied Germany: The OMGUS Surveys 1945–1949 (Illinois, 1970) pp. 107 f.

3.5. DON’T MENTION THE WAR? Hilde Behrend, who had emigrated from Nazi Germany to Britain in 1936, was a teacher at King Edward Grammar School for Girls in Birmingham from 1945. owards the end of the year 1946, some of her pupils surprised her with a request for pen-friends in Germany, when postal services had only just been re-established, and communications were still being censored. Another emigrant provided the address of a reliable and ideologically sound contact person at a Düsseldorf school, Dr Else Möllenhoff; an initial letter was sent from Birmingham to the Rhineland, addressing the German teacher and pupils as ‘Dear friends’, while not revealing the identity of the author as a half-Jewish refugee. The reaction was positive, and a lively exchange of letters ensued, which was accompanied by the sending of relief parcels, and later visits by teachers and pupils to Germany. The following letter, reproduced with all the original errors, comes from one of the pupils in Düsseldorf, and is equally revealing in what it says as in what it does not say. The attempt of young people to relate to one another without letting the recent history of their nations get in the way creates taboos at surface level, but the background is always there between the lines, in spite of the cautious way in which only the material consequences of the war for the author and her family are mentioned.

80

Germany 1945–1949

Düsseldorf 7 January 1947 Dear Audrey, This morning I had the joy of getting your letter, of which I am very happy. It does not matter, that you do not know any German, but I think you will laugh about my writing very often, for I believe I make many mistakes. I live in the south of Düsseldorf, as you do at Birmingham. Our family consists of my parents, my two brothers and me. You know that I am 19 years old, my brothers are younger, 13 and 10 they are. Our house is situated in a little garden. The living-room, the kitchen, and my room are downstairs, two bedrooms upstairs. One room we have given to a gentleman, and our bathroom is not yet build up; our house has been burnt out three years ago. I go to the Luisenschule at Düsseldorf and visit the Frauenschule.1 Do you understand it? but I cannot write it in English. I am in the 8 Classe and Easter I enter the last class. Do you have only the lessons you wrote of? We have German, English, Mathematics, Chemistry, Physics, Biology, Geography, Music, Gymnastics, Religion. Besides we have cooking, nursing of babies, pedagogics, gardening, and needlework. The last lessons I like best and German, Geography and Chemistry. I think your English is the same as our German. I am very fond of poems, ballads and spectacles.2 I must tell you that I do not like acting myself, I am more fond of seeing the play. Music I like too, and then I am fond of seeing good pictures of great masters. I think, you do not know our great painters, as well as I do not know yours. I am already longing for your next letter and I find it very nice to have a friend in another land. My brother W. is thinking so too, because he is glad to get English postage-stamps. Is that in England so too? I love cycling, as you do. It is wonderful to drive over the country, along the Rhein. To-morrow our school sends us into a sucklinghome3 for four weeks to learn to nurse babies. For these weeks our whole class is in several suckling-homes. I think it will be a very nice time, for I love little children. Do you love them too? I think, because you will teach them later on. Last year I was in a childrengarden.4 There it was very nice work too. I think you will be very

Figure 6 Like so many others, these boys seem to have grown up before their time, earning a bit of money as extras in one of the early post-war films and using a break in the shooting for adult forms of recreation

82

Germany 1945–1949

glad, that your brother was in leave. My brother W goes to the Grammar School for boys and the other, whose name is T will enter at Easter. Our newspapers told us that Birmingham has become godfather5 to Köln. I find it very good of your town, but why did you not take Düsseldorf? In time it is terrible cold, but I think, not only in Germany. The whole day we are freezing and sitting around the oven. For some days the schools are closed, because there are no coals to heat them. Please write me a new letter very soon and make me happy with it, for I am longing for hearing more of you. I wish that 1947 will be a good year for you. I send many greeting to you and remain your sincere friend. Source: Letter from T.B., pupil of the Luisenschule (unpublished), letter 14 in the collection of Hilde Behrend, Edinburgh

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

‘Women’s school’, a branch of secondary school which catered for traditionally female careers Schauspiele, meaning drama Literal translation of Säuglingsheim, nursing home for babies Literal translation of Kindergarten In German, Pate, Patenstadt is a twin town, now commonly called Partnerstadt, as the other term suggests an unequal relationship

3.6. FOOD AND DEMOCRACY The food crisis of 1947 highlighted the problematic relationship between occupying powers and inhabitants of occupied territory. On the one hand, Germans did not necessarily expect to be pampered by the Allies and, however welcome relief parcels such as those sent out by the Co-operative for American Remittances to Europe (CARE) were at the time, the recipients of such gifts would naturally have preferred a situation allowing them to provide for themselves. On the other hand, many laid the blame for the existing problems merely at the Allied doors, more or less prone to ignore the responsibility of Germany for creating the basic set of circumstances with which all involved had to cope. But even those who accepted this responsibility saw factories being dismantled and leaving the country along with highly qualified engineers and scientists, while their own standard of living was in most cases lower than in 1945. The least they could demand was to know the facts, and to have those facts openly acknowledged by the Allies who, after all, had stood for democracy and love of the truth. Two years of occupation had made it more difficult for many to believe in this: this is what

Natives and aliens

83

transpires from the speeches held at a rally proclaimed as a ‘Demonstration of the working people of Iserlohn against hunger, penury and distress on the Rathausplatz on 1 April 1947, 16.30 hours’, one of many events of this kind at the time. Werner Jacobi (born 1907), ex-prisoner of the Nazis and after the war Social Democrat mayor of the Westphalian town of Iserlohn, is appealing directly to the Allied Commander in the town hall (Rathaus), to whom the previous speaker, trade union official Fritz Rustemeyer, had handed on a plate the daily ration for an average consumer (Normalverbraucher).

Even if we have a heavy load to bear, we would be better able to bear it if we had the feeling that all the speeches, all the promises, all that we register as spoken by Allied statesmen left us the option of assuming that those declarations were made after a thorough examination of the facts. Then I examine a report which has appeared in today’s newspapers, and I note that on the one hand, Minister of State Hynd1 has declared that ‘people in Great Britain were on the whole not aware of the fact, that the distress of Germany would threaten the whole of Europe and the entire world with an economic tragedy and ensuing epidemics and famine, if this crisis were not kept under control.’ He then went on to say, however— and this is an astonishing statement, and we are not in a position to check the sources which may have formed the basis for such a declaration by Minister of State Hynd—he then went on to say that ‘the overall food supply, thanks to the zonal fusion,2 was perhaps better than at any time since the beginning of the occupation’ (Much laughter). Speeches like this are not likely to convey to us the feeling that our distress is being objectively acknowledged, and we give expression to the hope that the purpose of these demonstrations in Germany will be recognised also by the responsible officials of the occupying power, i.e. that we want to give them the opportunity to form an opinion on the basis of the actual German situation. All they need to do is to look into the circumstances of our lives here; they should not trust experts in London so much who are revealing facts about Germany to the Ministers from their comfortable seats round the conference table. We here want to express the hope that people in England who have the clarity of vision of a Victor Gollancz,3 of a Silverman,4 of a Stokes,5 have the opportunity to exercise more influence in the future. These three members of the British House of Commons are persistently putting questions to the English government. They know the German situation and are in all honesty prepared to assist us. May they also see a spur to the continuation of their political

84

Germany 1945–1949

activity in the demonstration which we are staging now! For one thing, ladies and gentlemen, has to be said in plain and simple words: We Germans have been lied to and cheated for twelve years, we have been the victims of a mendacious policy under the emblem of the dictatorship. We do not want one evil to be replaced with another, and we do not want a democracy to be taught today which does not value truthfulness. We cannot imagine politics without morality, we cannot imagine an opportunity to create a better Germany and a better world unless those who have the power to begin new politics, find it important to serve the truth. Source: Ansprache des Oberbürgermeisters Werner Jacobi (unpublished), Stadtarchiv Iserlohn Zgg. 2/1977, Mr. 12

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

John B.Hynd, Labour politician, from 1946 head of the control authority for Germany and Austria in London The economic fusion of the British and American zones 1946 See 3.8. Samuel Sydney Silverman, Labour MP for Nelson and Colne Richard Rapier Stokes, Labour MP for Ipswich

3.7. THE HUMOROUS SIDE Political humour had seen a heyday during the twelve years of Hitler rule; there was a multitude of jokes about the regime and its leaders, although they could rarely be told openly. After the war, there was more scope for the relaying of political jokes, and there were new targets, too. Previously, it had been mainly the Nazi leaders who had been targeted for their vanity and their propagandistic distortion of the truth. In post-war Germany, there was no German figure with enough power or enough public exposure to be singled out as the object of popular humour, and although the names of high-ranking SED politicians are mentioned in the anonymous piece quoted here, the attack is in a way impersonal, based on the wide-spread accordance of extra rations—known by the acronym ‘Pajok’—to members of the intelligentsia, including high-ranking party officials, but also artists and engineers. The real target is the occupying forces and the SED: in this instance, the responsibility for all kinds of shortages is placed with the Soviets and the new party created under their auspices. At the beginning, the poem parodies the national anthem of the Reich from 1922 to 1945, a Nazi party song, and a popular grace successively, finishing with some freer versification. The tone is consistent, but the fragmented structure suggests the possibility that the whole is a combination of short rhymes of different origin; the translation is

Natives and aliens

85

a literal one, not trying to imitate metre and rhyme scheme of the original given below.

Germany, Germany without anything, Without butter, without fat, And what little jam there is gets scoffed by the administration. The prices high, the borders firmly closed, Poverty marches with calm, firm step, All national comrades1 are starving, the big shots with them only in spirit. Fold your hands, hang your heads, and always think of unity. Come, Wilhelm Pieck,2 be our guest, And give us what you have promised, Not just turnip tops and cabbage, But what you scoff and Grotewohl.3 Nothing on the table, nothing on the plate, Nothing in the loft, nothing in the cellar, There are not even any toilet rolls, SED, we thank you! Welcome, liberators, you took the eggs from us, The milk and the butter, the cattle and the fodder, Also watches and rings and other things, Railway cars and tracks you took with you on your travels. From all this rubbish you have liberated us, We are crying with joy about how nice you are. Deutschland, Deutschland ohne alles,4 Ohne Butter, ohne Fett, Und das bisschen Marmelade frisst uns die Verwaltung weg. Die Preise hoch, die Grenzen fest geschlossen,5 Die Not marschiert mit ruhig festem Schritt, Es hungern alle Volksgenossen, die Grossen hungern nur im Geiste mit. Komm, Wilhelm Pieck, sei unser Gast,6 Und gib uns, was Du uns versprochen hast, Doch nicht nur Runkelkraut und Kohl, Sondern was Du frisst und Grotewohl. Nichts auf dem Tisch, nichts auf dem Teller, Nichts auf dem Boden, nichts im Keller, Es gibt nicht mal Klosettpapier, SED, wir danken Dir! Willkommen, Befreier, Ihr nahmt uns die Eier,

86

Germany 1945–1949

Die Milch und die Butter, das Vieh samt dem Futter, Auch Uhren und Ringe und sonstige Dinge, Waggons und Geleise nahmt Ihr mit auf die Reise, Von all diesem Plunder habt Ihr uns befreit, Wir weinen vor Freude, wie nett Ihr doch seid. Source: Untitled typescript (unpublished), collected by Hilde Behrend, Edinburgh

Notes 1 2 3 4

5

6

Volksgenossen, Nazi term for Aryan members of the population which survived as an address to fellow Germans in political speeches for some time after the war See 2.3., 2.4. Otto Grotewohl (see 2.4.), first Prime Minister of the GDR ‘Deutschland, Deutschland über alles’, i.e. ‘Germany above all else’, is the beginning of the Song of the Germans composed by August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben in 1841. Only the third verse was retained to be sung as the national anthem of the Federal Republic, although the first one is often better remembered, and although there is a certain amount of support for a return to three verses Die Fahne hoch, die Reihen fest geschlossen’, i.e. The flag held high and the ranks firmly closed’, is the first line of the Horst Wessel-Lied, sung by NSDAP organisations to remember one of their ‘martyred’ storm troopers killed in a Berlin street-fight in 1930 ‘Komm, Herr Jesus, sei unser Gast’, i.e. ’Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest’, is the opening line of a common grace said at German tables

3.8. COMRADES TOGETHER Victor Gollancz (born 1893), author and publisher (see 3.6.), was one of those public figures in Britain who were most concerned with the German situation. He went to Germany, travelled, took notes and photographs, and wrote books as well as numerous letters to the editors of major British newspapers, trying to make the public aware of the fact that urgent help was needed. In his book In Darkest Germany, published in 1947, he does not spare the readers the gruesome details of destitution and despair. His account is illustrated by no less gruesome pictures, which he thought necessary to make an impact on public opinion without being accused of gross exaggeration. However, Gollancz tells his readers of the shame he felt when taking those photographs, and emphasises that he always apologised to his subjects for intruding on their privacy. It is easy to feel sympathy for people who are living in extreme poverty; it is much more difficult to retain that respect with which one would have regarded those same people in different circumstances, and Gollancz is well aware of this, although he feels it is his duty to see and to write about the most extreme cases. There is a sense of relief, however, in his description of an encounter with a man who is physically and psychologically in a better condition, the Stadtdirektor (town clerk) of Jülich, a

Natives and aliens

87

small town west of the Rhine, who, furthermore, is a Socialist comrade who can converse with his guest in English.

Underground nearby lived a man of 69, alone. His wife was dead, and he had heard nothing of his sons for two years: they might be prisoners, he thought, in Russia. There was no artificial light in his cell, and for natural light only a hole a foot or so across and covered with paper. The ceiling was wet. As I flashed my torch about I noticed the filthy bandage on the man’s neck, and saw that his hands were swollen and covered with those corrupt-looking spots—something midway between impetigo and small carbuncles—which I had already seen so frequently during the last few days, especially among the children. They appear to have cleared up, it seems, and then new ones break out on the half-healed scars. All this was the dreadful side of Jülich: and it wasn’t exceptional, as you’ll appreciate when you remember that seven thousand people are living there, and hardly a house even partially standing. But there was a happy side too. I had been getting friendly with my Stadtdirektor, who turned out to be a Social Democrat, and to have been ‘on the run’ continuously from 1933 right up to what he still called, in spite of everything, the liberation. He was a gentle little man, and when he found me sympathetic asked if he might come in my car as far as Düren (on the way to Aachen) so as to be able to talk a little longer. As we were leaving the rubble for the green fields, I noticed a longish bungalow of wood that seemed somehow to gleam and glisten in that awful desolation: and over the door the words, in bold lettering, ‘Hotel-Restaurant Kaiserhof’. I looked at my comrade with a gesture of enquiry, and he replied with a smile, half proud and half deprecating, Es beginnt (‘Something’s beginning’). I got out to have a look. Two or three men were drinking a glass of beer in the vestibule-restaurant, and we sat and talked with them for a moment or so. Then we went down the corridor. The rooms that opened out of it on both sides were small, overcrowded, and furnished with the minimum of necessities; but they were bright and clean, and the people seemed contented. In one room there was a mother with the most beautiful children I have ever seen. On the road to Düren my comrade, who had been feeling his way, began to talk more freely. ‘Couldn’t the British comrades’ he said ‘come to see us occasionally? There are a lot of socialists here, and we feel terribly cut off. I don’t mean official visits from Morgan Phillips1 [I was surprised that he knew the name]; I mean the little socialists.’ A few minutes later, for by this time I had told him I was

88

Germany 1945–1949

a publisher, he begged me to send him some English books. ‘And up-to-date newspapers,’ he added. ‘At present I only get an Observer four months old. I want to tell my people about what’s happening in England, but it”s difficult to do it when my news is so out of date.’ He always called the inhabitants of Jülich ‘my people’ as if he were a sort of priest; and indeed in one sense he was. Shortly afterwards we arrived at Düren and he left me. I don’t suppose I shall ever see Jülich again. But I want to; and I wonder whether I have at all made clear why I think of it as ‘little Jülich’, and with a curious mixture of sadness and affection. Source: Victor Gollancz, In Darkest Germany (London, 1947) pp. 67 f.

Note 1

Morgan Hector Phillips, Labour Party member and director of several private companies in London

3.9. APPROACHES TO RE-EDUCATION Denazification, the attempt to remove Nazis from official positions, was one approach to the task of changing German society through Allied influence; reeducation was another one, more subtle, but hardly less problematic. Once incriminated teachers had been removed from schools, there was the question of the curriculum. New textbooks were urgently needed, for even subjects like arithmetic were infected with racist and militarist ideology, not to mention other disciplines such as biology and history. And could those teachers who were not classified as Nazi supporters, but who had however worked within the system, be expected to simply switch the content and the method of their teaching to the goal of raising true democrats? Yet a start had to be made somewhere, and there were many people in the Allied authorities who were working on new curricula to be put into practice in German schools by Germans. Christopher Fyfe (born 1921), a young English schoolteacher with an interest in Germany that dated back to his own school days, had a different approach: he wanted to go and teach the Germans himself, for which purpose he had to become a member of the Control Commission, which he did in 1948 in order to become a teacher in a Düsseldorf school. The following is an extract from an interview recorded at his home in Edinburgh in November 1987; Fyfe recalls the official reeducators as well as his own efforts with some doubt about their achievements.

I always wanted to distance myself from the Control Commission; there were some funny people who had been in the war and didn’t want to go back to civilian life, ex-Majors and strange ladies who wanted to reconstitute the German educational system by

Natives and aliens

89

introducing Winnie the Pooh. I remember this lady telling me at great length how the dreadful thing about the Germans was that they’d all had Grimms’ fairy tales,1 which were so cruel, and that they ought to have nice things like Winnie the Pooh. So she was working on some sort of syllabus to be introduced into the German schools, where, she hoped, they would have Winnie the Pooh instead of Grimms’ fairy tales. I should think it was just an idea of hers— I really had no idea of what they did, I always kept away from these people, I thought they were such lunatics. And also, it was partly a matter of my own status. I went there absolutely determined that I was to be a teacher in a German school, and not an employee of the Control Commission, which I had to be for technical reasons. Looking back, I was probably very offensive to these harmless people, because I wanted to identify with the German people I was working with. I think it was an idea that a lot of people find very strange looking back, and of course I’m looking back forty years, but I was so determined, I felt it was something that I must do. What I don’t know is how the Foreign Office allowed me to go. Presumably it was a moment when things were becoming relaxed, because as far as I know I was the only British person teaching in a German school in 1948. And that was entirely my own initiative—but the joke here is that nothing very much came of it. I don’t want to make this out as a great thing. I mean, I had all these wonderful ideas I would teach the Germans democracy and so on, but I don’t think this really happened. But this was my idea: I was very determined in those days, this was something that I’d got to do, and I had quite a good knowledge in German. I’d been in Hamburg at the end of the war, and I thought now, here is my chance, I must go and show the world that we must be nice to those Germans. Source: Christopher Fyfe, interviewed by Manfred Malzahn (transcript from tape recording, unpublished)

Note 1

The tales that the brothers Grimm collected in the early nineteenth century were in fact not quite as deeply rooted in the German soul as they were made out to be; for example, many of the tales with frequently uncertain origin were based on French versions, given to the Grimms by well-educated young girls with a good command of the French language

4

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

4.1. THE NOTION OF COLLECTIVE GUILT The question whether, independent of individual assessments, a collective responsibility of the German people for the atrocities of the Nazi regime should be publicly acknowledged, was the subject of much debate in the post-war years. The two big German churches took two fundamentally different stands: whereas the first Catholic pastoral of 1945 spoke of the joy about the fact that so many had refused to succumb to the power of Baal, the protestant Council of the Evangelical Church of Germany signed a document which became known as Schuldbekenntnis, a ‘confession of guilt’ which did not exempt even those who had remained opposed to Nazism as members of the Bekennende Kirche, the professing church. This movement had been formed in 1933 in opposition to the Reichskirche, an organisation of protestant churches loyal to the new regime. The Catholic church had not experienced a similar schism in spite of Nazi violations of the concordat with the Vatican of 20 July 1933, which bound the clergy to political neutrality while promising non-interference of the state in religious and educational matters. Many Catholics as well as Protestants ended up in concentration camps, including one of the most prominent signatories of the Stuttgart Schuldbekenntnis of 19 October 1945, Martin Niemöller (born 1892). A submarine commander in World War I, Pastor Niemöller was a prisoner from 1937 to 1945, resuming his clerical duties after the war and explaining the message of the document quoted here in many sermons and public speeches, which met with extremely mixed receptions.

The Council of the Evangelical Church welcomes the representatives of the Ecumenical Council of Churches at its meeting on 18 and 19 October 1945 in Stuttgart. We are all the more grateful for this visit, as we are aware of being united with our people not only in a large community of suffering, but also in a solidarity of guilt. With great pain we say: through us, infinite suffering has been inflicted on many people and many countries. What we have frequently 90

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

91

Figure 7 Names of concentration camps and the confession ‘I am ashamed to be German’ on Munich’s Feldherrenhalle, May 1945

testified to in our parishes, we pronounce now in the name of the entire church: we may well have fought for many years in the name of Jesus Christ against the spirit which has found its terrible expression in the violent National Socialist regime; but we accuse ourselves of not having professed our faith more courageously, not having prayed more faithfully, not having believed more cheerfully and not having loved more fervently. Now a new beginning shall be made in our churches. Based on Holy Scripture, focused in all earnestness on the Holy Lord of the Church, they are taking up the task of cleansing themselves of influences alien to the faith, and of putting their houses in order. We hope to the God of Grace and Mercy, that He will use our churches as His tool and that he will give them the authority to preach His word and to procure obedience to His will among ourselves and among our entire people. That in this new beginning we may know ourselves to be in an alliance of hearts with the other churches of the ecumenical community, fills us with deep joy. We hope to God that through the united service of the churches the spirit of violence and of revenge, which today is intent on regaining power, will be opposed in all the world, and that the spirit of peace

92

Germany 1945–1949

and of love will come to reign, in which alone tortured mankind can find healing. Thus we ask in an hour in which the entire world needs a new beginning: Veni creator spiritus!1 Source: Stuttgarter ‘Schuldbekenntnis’ des Rates der Evangelischen Kirche Deutschland, in: Klaus-Jörg Ruhl (ed.), Neubeginn und Restauration: Dokumente zur Vorgeschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1945–1949 (Munich, 2nd edn, 1984) p. 296 Note 1 Come, creator spirit!

4.2. THE YOUNG GENERATION For those concerned about the future of Germany, the youth were of prime importance. They had been a major target of Nazi indoctrination, not only in the schools, but also through the youth organisations in which membership was compulsory, and which tried to instil a loyalty to the system strong enough to override family allegiances. Post-war youth organisations found it much harder to recruit members, as shown by the figures quoted in this OMGUS report (cf. 3.4.), based on interviews with pupils in Bavaria. The town of Regensburg on the Danube and the surrounding areas had not suffered much from the war, and being mainly rural, they were not among the worst affected by the economic problems of the post-war years either. The political leanings reflect the traditional conservatism of the region; equally traditional are the careers envisaged by the young Bavarians, although the low regard for the teaching profession among the boys stands out. This could be related to the anti-intellectualism preached and practised in the Third Reich, with its cult of manhood which favoured more adventurous, or at least more practical pursuits for men, as well as to the fact that at the time, people with practical skills tended to fare better in material terms than teachers. That Hitler still gets quite a few nominations as one of the greatest Germans is indicative of the fact that the substitution of new values for old has by no means been an all-inclusive change; neither does the concept of democracy seem to have sunk in on a broader basis, although local elections had already taken place in January in 1946 in the American zone.

Report No.12 (28 June 1946) ATTITUDES OF SOME BAVARIAN SCHOOLCHILDREN Sample: 250 schoolchildren between the ages of 12 and 18 in Regensburg, Weilheim, Pirkensee, and Burglengenfeld Interviewing dates: not specified. (6 pp.) Although 88 per cent of the children had belonged to Nazi youth

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

93

organisations, only 12 per cent were members of a new youth organisation. Thirty-seven per cent of their parents had belonged to the NSDAP, a figure about average for the American zone. Eightyfour per cent of the youth were Catholic. Most (48%) would vote for the CSU if they were old enough, 18 per cent for the SPD, and three per cent for the KPD. Almost a third (29%), however, said they would not vote even if they could. Their principal concern was obtaining food. Thirty per cent said that the type of aid Germany needed most was food, and 26 per cent reported that their greatest wish was for more food. They also desired peace and freedom for their brothers who were prisoners of war. Their secondary concern were jobs, clothing, and shoes. The children seemed to be in good health. Reading, sports, and handicrafts provided recreation. Almost all the children (98%) claimed to like school. Most (66%) thought themselves to be average students. About one-third considered themselves to be good students. Only a few (3%) admitted that they were bad students. Although they were interested in a wide variety of subjects, they liked best mathematics, German, geography, history, biology, and English. Seventy-four per cent preferred to learn English rather than some other foreign language. The employment aspirations of the youth were generally low. The girls wanted to be saleswomen, dressmakers, clerks, teachers, or hairdressers. The boys wished to be bakers, electricians, or carpenters. None of the boys wanted to teach. More girls (7%) than boys (3%) hoped to become physicians or dentists. The most common reason given (36%) for Germany’s loss of the war was the overpowering strength of the enemy. Second (30%) was Germany’s lack of material. When asked to name the three greatest Germans, about ten per cent named Hitler, a quarter mentioned monarchs, and a third poets. When questioned as to what the respondent would do if he alone knew the secret of the atom bomb, the most common answer given (36%) was to keep it a secret. Democracy to these youths meant freedom for the people (23%) and government by the people (10%). Forty-eight per cent, however, had no opinion when asked what democracy meant. Almost as many (35%) liked the American soldier as disliked him (39%). More than half of those who disliked the American soldier mentioned his general behaviour as a reason. Most of the youth expected a good, lasting, or just or wise peace from the Allies. Fifty-nine per cent did not expect another war

94

Germany 1945–1949

soon. Of the 41 per cent who did expect war, most thought it would be with the Soviet Union. Source: Anna J.Merritt, Richard J.Merritt (eds.), Public Opinion in Occupied Germany: The OMGUS surveys 1945–1949 (Illinois, 1970) pp. 86 f.

4.3. BACK TO WHAT ROOTS? For many Germans, the search for a new foundation for post-war society began with a backward look at the national and European history of ideas, and some were inclined to look very far back indeed. At the first meeting of the protestant Evangelical Press Society for Germany, a talk by Friedrich Langenfass formulates an extreme position based on the theory that fascism had been the last stage of an anti-religious development beginning with the Renaissance and ending with National Socialism as the logical consequence of humanism, positivism and materialism. The entire history of Western civilisation from the late Middle Ages is seen as a series of errors leading man astray from the right belief, in spite of such positive elements as post-Renaissance philosophies may have contained. The author virtually dismisses the notion of historical progress, pointing out technology as the ultimate cause of evil. The view of the Nazi state as one where functionalism ran riot without constraint through humanitarian values was and is still fairly common, but Langenfass comes to a conclusion which rejects material progress as a destructive force undermining the spiritual basis of society. One of his key metaphors is the portrayal of Nazi ideology as ‘electrical currents of self-idolisation’ emanating from Hitler to the German people, who were moths attracted to the light, with the inevitable disastrous consequences. Langenfass envisages the re-creation of a preindustrial nation as a unique opportunity for a return to the religious roots; an idea that, in spite of the different reasoning behind it, resembles the plans of Henry Morgenthau (cf. 5.1.) which proved equally impracticable.

The other nations of the world have experienced the vast power of technology; generally, they still stand facing it with astonishment and humility. However, not without a constricting anxiety; this we see in the worried discussions about nuclear energy. Among us, recognition has already progressed further: the spirit of technology has revealed its terrible destructive power to such an extent that we can hardly see any longer what creative power lives in it. This may not constitute an essential difference with the world out there, but a dynamic one. The real belief which the leaders of National Socialism have implanted in the heart of the people has fallen down with a terrible noise. It was not founded on the ideology at all, but on the negative power of the spirit of technology. I cannot illustrate this

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

95

any better than with a statement Adolf Hitler once made to a highranking officer, in order to win him for his cause: ‘Believe me, the decisive factors in politics are only cold, calculating ratio and brutal force.’ The technological age does not otherwise appear so naked and unveiled in this world; it does not usually act so irresponsibly elsewhere. It does not push moral law aside so recklessly elsewhere; it does not defy the living God quite as frivolously. But is this not, in the midst of all the suffering and all the horrible distress, the blessing which would pour itself on us? In today’s language, one would say: the chance which offers itself to us before other people. We, I think, cannot use this word; our path has already led too deep down into the abyss. Between us, we can only say: either curse or grace. This exactly is the blessing of the hour; we are no longer being asked whether we want to turn back from our former path. The hard fist of the victor forces us to do so: among us, the technological age has reached its end. At first, we do not even have to face the question whether we want to use technology only for the good of mankind. It has in any case withdrawn itself from our reach, leaving only a very small number of technological provisions in order to help us to eke out our meagre existence. Thus we are faced with a much more fundamental decision: whether we want to curse our fate, or whether we want to search for the grace of God which is hidden in it. Our heart trembles when we think that more and more people in Germany have the will to curse their fate. We know the cause of this: the whole dire situation, the oppressions to which individuals are exposed, the injustices which have been inflicted, the mountains of frustrated hopes which are piling up. Still: a people which curses its fate completes its destruction. It would continue on the path on to which it was pushed by its blind trust in technology. Source: ‘Gedanken zur geistigen Situation von heute: Streiflichter von Friedrich Langenfass’, in: Zeitwende 18 (1946/7) pp. 270 f.

4.4. A NEW INWARDNESS A second possible source of spiritual renewal which was frequently referred to in the post-war period was the cultural tradition of Germany. Those who advertised this path did not have to go quite as far back as the Middle Ages: the classical riod of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century provided them with what they thought was needed to re-establish a sense of national identity, and of pride in the achievements of past generations of Germans. A book by the eminent historian Friedrich Meinecke, published in 1946,

96

Germany 1945–1949

suggests the creation Goethegemeinden, i.e. Goethe Communities, all over Germany, holding weekly ‘celebrations of poetry and music’ with performances of the works of German composers, and readings of lyrical, contemplative poetry. The cultural achievement of the age of Goethe is proclaimed as a model for the present, where according to Meinecke only a little more guidance is needed to point people in the right direction, and as a model for this he even cites the way in which Nazi propaganda set out to capture ‘harmless souls’ by offering cultural titbits among pamphlets in Party offices, and on the radio during the hours of Sunday services in German churches. On the whole, the author’s view is fairly representative of a widespread tendency to withdraw from sordid reality into the private sphere, and the uncontaminated realms of the spirit, an escapism that could already be detected during the Nazi period when, as the post-war author Franz Josef Degenhardt wrote later, many Germans ‘withdrew into the Reich of Beethoven’. Meinecke himself (born 1862) had gone into a kind of inner emigration after his dismissal from his academic post; he had been critical of the Nazis, but still preferred to think about nicer things to facing up to and trying to explain the facts of fascist atrocities committed in a country fond of calling itself ‘the land of poets and thinkers’.

And now it is one of those very rare experiences of our days which can provide us with immediate consolation, that in many places in German lands endeavours of this kind are springing up again. We hear of the establishment of cultural societies and cultural communities in the cities, we hear of drama productions in which forgotten treasures of German drama rise to the light again, and young and old people are crowding the concerts which offer great German music. Here and there on these occasions, the immediate intention to denazify the German spirit is declared. May this intention not be spoken about too often, may that which must be our most urgent wish not be overstated as a bias. As organisation must be kept to a minimum in this field, the utilitarian aspects and those which reach out into the political sphere must also be treated with tact and moderation. Spiritual life and the struggle for spiritual values carry their justification within themselves, and have the deepest effect where they can move in the greatest liberty from political bias. Indeed, they even work on the political sphere in the deepest and most beneficial way, if they go their own ways spontaneously and without regimentation. Thus we wish for as free and informal treatment of these cultural endeavours. In this manner, something more will be achieved which is also urgently to be desired, but must not be promoted in too purposeful and too biased a manner—viz., the regaining of a spiritual contact with the other Western nations. For it is so that

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

97

just the cultivation of our particular individual German spiritual life can link us with the spiritual life of the other nations in the purest and most natural manner. What is more individual and more German than great German music from Bach to Brahms? And it is just this which has been most gratefully received by the rest of the world and brings us spiritually closer to it. An effect as universal as that which German music as a whole has had, other areas of our cultural life—art, literature, science—have only managed to attain in a few great achievements. But with them, it was always the case that a specifically and truly German achievement of the spirit came to have a universal impact on the Western world. What is more German than Goethe’s Faust,1 and how vast was its effect on the Western world! And this experience, that something sprung from the very spirit of a people and thus inimitable, could come to have a universal impact, is not only limited to the relationship between the German and the Western spirit, but highlights a basic law of the whole Western cultural community which has to be expressed, and which could be explained much more deeply than it is possible here. What is more Italian than Rafael’s Madonna della Sedia2 and what charm does it possess at the same time for each Western person with a cultural sensibility! How deeply rooted in English soil are Shakespeare’s plays, and how vastly have they shaken and penetrated the whole Western world! But such spiritual matter must always be naïve, original, and organically sprung from a people’s spirit to have universal effect. It must be free, spontaneous, unbiased, springing from the deepest creative urge. As soon as the vain intention stirs to demonstrate the superiority of one’s own people’s spirit to the rest of the Western world, as the Third Reich attempted in its racial madness, the effect on the Western world is nil, and the other nations will respond with mockery and rejection. Source: Friedrich Meinecke, Die deutsche Katastrophe (Zurich, 1946) pp. 170 ff. Notes 1 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was neither the first nor the last writer to use the popular tales based on the real life of a German physician and dabbler in black magic in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century; however, especially his second dramatisation of the subject matter was by far the most successful and came to be regarded as the epitome of German literature in its classicist period 2 The Renaissance artist Raffaelo Santi’s seated Madonna in the Pitti palace inFlorence

98

Germany 1945–1949

4.5. THE ROLE OF WOMEN The position of women in German society had changed in two diametrically opposed directions during the Third Reich. On the one hand, Nazi ideology quite firmly consigned the woman to the home as housewife and mother. During the war, however, a factual reversal of this trend had been effected by practical necessity: more and more women had to replace men at their work, and made considerable inroads into previously male domains in industry. This extract from an article entitled ‘Women must work’, written by a male author for a women’s magazine, acknowledges the necessity of accepting this change, but with important reservations. Werner Eckhardt still believes that quite a number of occupations are unsuitable for women for health reasons, conceding that some physical labour must be carried out temporarily by women in the absence of able-bodied men, while insisting on the equality of men and women at work in general terms. However important women were to the German economy in the 1940s, the degree in which they participated in public life did not reflect this to any great extent. Positions of power were still held almost exclusively by men; to find a woman involved in politics or at a higher administrative level was still wellnigh impossible, and the public image of what a German woman should be and do changed very little, in spite of Eckhardt’s claim that the emancipation of women was no longer an issue as it had been largely achieved already and would be completed in the ordinary course of events.

It is no exaggeration to say: on the German woman depends the fate of our recovery. Women must work. Even an unexpected rise in the number of births can not alter this. Because before the newly-born could have an effect on the whole community, we would have long gone under. And women can work! When war made this a necessity, they proved it everywhere. Who was still surprised to see a woman in a blue fitter’s suit, and remembered that the first female doctors and lawyers had once been ridiculed and derided? The women at work are part of our everyday life. But in spite of all this, women remain women! The tractor or the crane, the bricklayer’s trowel of the roofer’s shoes must not become their permanent tools. Because above absolute productivity, health must be considered. In the long run, only a healthy person can do his best after all. Thus it is important to ask in which occupations women should have a place. Some we have already ruled out. There are more in which a woman’s health is exposed to great dangers. Perhaps for once want will help us out in this: huge plants of heavy industry have been dismantled. The production of remaining

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

99

plants is limited. The future points towards the refining of small or middlesized products mainly for export. Toys or musical instruments, jewellery or products of precision engineering will provide us, by means of export, with the most vital goods faster than heavy guns could do. It does not have to be the case that only typist or nurse should count as truly female occupations. On the contrary, women must become able to enter all professions in which they can replace male labour without damage to their health. From these, more and more men must change to ‘heavier’ work. Such a development would be a blessing for the people as a whole—but its realisation will meet with traditional as well as new difficulties. The tragedy of the working woman is that even today many of the working males look down on her, instead of regarding her as an equal! Our grandfathers still knew the male secretary in their offices. Which man still remembers this today, when Miss secretary turns him away kindly but firmly? And are not already a good deal of regular businesses under female leadership? Are not women already in posts of administrative consultants and in many other leading functions? Is the female journalist still a rarity? Or even the female doctor? Nobody should say that these are only a few female experts. This is not the case. The broader the basis of their fellow-women, the more and the more prominent achievements will come from it. Women must work—this should not only be the logical result of an arithmetical operation, using people as figures in a quite lamentable way. It is also a demand. Emancipation is a hackneyed word. We also do not need it any more. The surplus of women is unambiguous. Between the ages of 18 and 40, there are 1242 women for every 1000 men. This says it all. Not only in general, but especially in the most productive age group, women are in the majority. The growth of female labour is the inevitable consequence. The emancipation of women in politics, in all aspects of society, and lastly also in the public consciousness must follow. Our children will already be laughing about prejudices which are still widespread today. Perhaps providence,1 which has been abused for twelve years, will lead us out of the glorious male age of a thousand years,2 into the age of women without a time limit. Perhaps in our country, too, there will then be a glow of more love, more understanding and more good will. Source: Werner Eckhardt, ‘Frauen müssen arbeiten’, in: Der Regenbogen: Zeitschrift für die Frau 2/4 (April 1947) p. 3

100

Germany 1945–1949

Notes 1 2

Die Vorsehung was a word frequently used by Hitler and other Nazi greats The Third Reich’s claim was that it would last a millennium

4.6. DENAZIFICATION: THE REALITY The formal procedure of denazification, aimed at removing all Nazis from public employment, which in the German system included administrators as well as teachers and postal workers, was first introduced in the American zone in July 1945. Later, also leading figures in private industry had to fill in the questionnaire which was handed out to them, trying to collect all data about membership in the Nazi Party and affiliated organisations, public speeches and writings, employment, other sources of income, military service, travel abroad and political affiliations. The vast bureaucratic effort soon proved to be unmanageable, at least as regards the achievement of the desired effect. Main figures were exonerated or let off lightly as followers (Mitläufer), while others were punished harder than they felt they deserved to be. Finally, public opinion in Germany turned almost entirely against the manner in which denazification was being handled, and even those who approved of its aims were extremely critical of its realisation. In Allied countries, too, criticism grew among people who would not have supported General Patton’s views (see 3.3.). In 1947, John H.Herz denounces the many defects of denazification policies in an article in the Political Science Quarterly, backing his argument with an impressive list of cases where undue lenience was shown by the authorities, or there was evidence of pressure against witnesses, all taken from reports in the German press. Herz states that he failed, however, to find any report of a case which spoke of an unduly severe punishment.

Cases evidencing leniency b. Members of Nazi terror machine (Gestapo,1 special courts, etc.) (1) Gestapo official in charge of Jewish affairs in Kassel, had treated Jews with particular brutality: four years in labour camp, of which two years counted as served through internment. (2) Supervising officer of penitentiary, responsible for the brutal treatment of political inmates: Offender, three years in labour camp, internment counted. (3) High Gestapo official in the Reich Main Security Office: Follower, fined. (4) Collaborator of the SD,2 responsible for many people being put into concentration camp: Offender, only a few months in labour camp to be served. (5) Public prosecutor at a Nazi ‘Special Court’ (Sondergericht): Lesser Offender, one and a half years of probation, fine of 2,000 RM.3 (6) Gestapo official who was active in Poland from 1939 to 1944 (British zone case): four months in prison still to be served. (7) Former chief of Gestapo

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

101

and SD at Fulda: Follower. (8) Former deputy police president at Nürnberg, responsible for personnel matters and for the pogrom of November 10, 1938 at Nürnberg: Follower, fine of 800 RM. (9) Gestapo official, personally involved in maltreatment of political prisoners (British zone): 18 months in prison. c. Public officials and party officials (1) Former District President (Regierungspräsident) of Upper and Middle Franconia: Lesser Offender, two months of probation, 4,000 RM fine. (2) Lord Mayor of Augsburg 1935–1945, also high ranking in various Nazi organisations: Follower, fine of 1,000 RM. (3) Former Hesse minister, later District President in the Saar and subsequently Mayor of Vienna: Lesser Offender, three years of probation. (4) Ministerial Director in Reich Interior Ministry 1933– 1943: exonerated, now active as a Landrat. (5) Former Kreisleiter and ranking pre-1933 party member: Lesser offender, six months of probation, fine of 2,000 RM. (6) Former Ortsgruppenleiter,4 described as ‘fanatical Nazi’, six months in prison (British zone). (7) Former deputy Gauleiter of Cologne: four years and three months in prison, internment counted. (8) Former Kreisleiter5 of Hamburg-Harburg: two years in prison, counted as served through internment. (9) Former Kreisleiter of Brückenau: Follower. Source: John H.Herz, The fiasco of denazification’, in: Political Science Quarterly, 63/4 (1947) pp, 582 ff.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

Geheime Staatspolizei, secret state police Sicherheitsdienst, security service Reichsmark Party official at local level See 1.3.

4.7. THE PROBLEM OF JUVENILE DELINQUENCY In the wake of the war, crime had become a more widespread problem, as larger parts of the population almost inevitably came into conflict with the law in trying to satisfy their basic needs. Black market trading was rife in the towns and in the countryside, where townspeople went to get some of the stock of rationed supplies hoarded by farmers; an activity that was known by the selfexplanatory term of Hamstern, The definition of crime had changed in public opinion: the archbishop of Cologne, Cardinal Frings, for instance, declared that under certain circumstances it could not be called morally damnable to

102

Germany 1945–1949

steal coal in order to keep one’s family warm; hence as a name for such activities the new verb fringsen entered the German language. A study commissioned by the British military government in Berlin showed a particularly drastic rise in juvenile delinquency there, a trend confirmed by criminal statistics elsewhere. Prostitution and the related spreading of venereal disease feature largely in contemporary reports. Quoted here are the final passages from an article in Der Regenbogen (The Rainbow), which shows some understanding of the problem and reflects the dilemma between the awareness of responsibility and of inadequacy shared by many of the older generation who felt they had lost the authority to provide the kind of guidance needed by young people.

Before the judge stands a broad-shouldered girl, her hair well groomed, with a nice, pretty dress. ‘You have been picked up by the patrol because you could not produce a work card. You are not working then?’ The girl’s mouth expresses defiance, while remaining shut. ‘Without a work card you do not get any food coupons. How do you support yourself then?’ Silence. ‘Well, even without your answer we know how girls of your sort live.’ ‘Yes,’ she says violently, and looks up, ‘this is just how I live. And I am not only happy because my friends provide me with food and decent clothes to wear. When I was 17, they put me into an arms factory. There I sat in the sheds from early till late, milling screws. Thousands every day. At night we sat in the airraid shelter. Just before the end of the war I was called up to the Flak. Near Vienna. We only just managed to escape from the Russians, having to leave all of our few possessions behind. When I came home, our house was destroyed. Somewhere in the Upper Palatinate, they crammed my mother and the three little kids into a miserable room. Father is not back from captivity yet. My mother just hasn’t any space for me, even if she wants to put me up. When I visit her, I have to sleep in one bed with her and the youngest one, as they have only two beds. Then I went back to town, into the factory. But what could I buy with my wages at the end of the week? Not even a pair of stockings. On Sundays, I had to go foraging for potatoes, or to get wood from the forest. Now, is that really living? A life to lead when you’re young? No, the nights are over when I felt the fear rising up in me that my whole life could go on and finish in such misery. Now I finally want to live for a change.’ The judge is an old, experienced man. ‘May God grant’, he says, ‘that you will realise the deceptive character of what you call

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

103

Figure 8 The long journey west: one of the many refugee treks (1945)

“living” before it is too late!’ But you can tell from the bitter lines around his mouth that in seeing this army of homeless youths, he senses the weight of guilt and danger on the shoulders of the grownups. What would he not give to be able to guide most of the juvenile offenders not into detention behind bars, but into a mother’s dwelling, however modest! Source: Anneliese Steinhoff, ‘Jugend hinter Gittern?’, in: Der Regenbogen: Zeitschrift für die Frau 2/11–12 (Nov.–Dec. 1947) p. 18

4.8. THE ‘LITTLE GUSTAVS’ OF SIEMENSSTADT The ability to improvise was essential for those who tried to cope with daily life in post-war Germany, and many people turned inventors out of necessity, proving again an old truism as Wehrmacht helmets were transformed into pots, parachutes into dresses, and gas mask straps into garters. In Berlin, some

104

Germany 1945–1949

resourceful person in the district of Siemensstadt, inhabited mainly by employees of the electrical factories established by Werner von Siemens in the nineteenth century, developed a gadget known as Kleiner Gustav (Little Gustav), which soon enjoyed immense popularity as a means of defeating electricity meters. There were others ways of cheating the meter, but to tap directly into the mains supply before the meter or to slow the counter down by drilling a hole and inserting a feather was more easily detectable. Little Gustav was applied to the mains on the other side of the meter, which was not usually checked before the Berlin electricity board Bewag (Berliner Licht- und Kraft-Aktiengesellschaft) discovered the new piece of technology. This newspaper report is one of the earliest mentions of Gustavs in the press; they were still found in the early 1950s, although the article claims that those who want to heat their premises with rationed electricity can only hope to do so with impunity for a limited time. However high the risk of discovery, such behaviour was indicative of the fact that a certain loss of respect for authority had taken place, and whereas there were many examples of solidarity between individuals in a situation of general deprivation, people in post-war Germany generally seemed to feel less inhibited when it came to dealing with anonymous institutions, although this would also indirectly affect their compatriots.

With remarkable persistence, the inspectors of Bewag are being refused admission to a room in a flat in Siemensstadt, where, they are told, a sick person is lying with a fever. The Bewag men connect their meter gauges once more to the junction box of the lighting mains, and then insist on entering the room. In the end, they can no longer be denied, and a few minutes later they have found him already—‘Little Gustav’, the electricity brake. Although in the room four electric fires are glowing on 2,000 Watts, the electricity meter is running backwards. Satisfied, the inspectors twist little Gustav’s wiry neck and take him with them, and also a report about their find. The rest will be done by the legal department. Day after day, such cases of electricity theft have to be investigated. It is estimated that up until recently, ten thousand of these little Gustavs were in existence. A particularly great number of them were ‘killed’ in Siemensstadt, the residence of a sufficient number of specialists who also have access to the necessary raw materials needed to manufacture the meter brake, i.e. high-quality capacitors. To track down these ‘specialists’, criminalistic precision work is often needed. In spite of this, Bewag can today definitely clear up ninety-nine out of a hundred cases of electricity theft. In the Bewag meter workshop in Rosenstrasse, the officials find even the fine holes drilled into meter cases, or telltale scratches on rotating and

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

105

numeral discs. Sometimes the evidence clings to the steel magnets in the shape of hairpins or nails. Most certainly the most primitive way of tampering with the meter is smashing the glass or breaking the seal. A slightly more advanced method is turning over the counter by keeping all lights and electrical apparatuses switched on day and night so that the counter starts again at zero until it reaches the figure for the permitted contingent. To counteract this, a safety device is installed now on the rim of the wheel that shows the highest digit. In general, the electricity thieves the Bewag is dealing with are experts who have at least as much technical knowledge as the Bewag specialists. Thus for instance some electricity thieves bridged the meter, and in its place installed a switch in the shape of a coat hook. When the hook sticks out from the wall, the bridge is activated; when the electricity thief leaves his flat, he pushes the hook back into the wall, i.e. switches off again. A very refined version was thought up by a foreman electrician in Spandau, who had plans to install the bridging device into a new house he was building. Source: ‘Die Bewag jagt den “Kleinen Gustav”’, in: Der Kurier 44 (21 February 1948)

4.9. PRESCRIBED DEMOCRACY One of the problems with the democratisation of Germany was that it started in the most undemocratic way imaginable: prescribed by foreign powers on the grounds of their military victory. Had anti-fascist elements within Germany been able to overthrow the Nazi dictatorship, however late in the day, things would have looked different; but as it was, there was a widespread suspicion about the new system, which many people regarded as just another authoritarian regime substituted for the old one, with a different name tag on it. As German people got more of a say in running their affairs, this suspicion began to subside, but it was slow to disappear altogether. Initially, of course, there was some justification for questioning the democratic nature of democratic change, as neither the mechanisms nor the social consensus had been established to make it work from the bottom upwards, and the new people in positions of power could wield their authority without too much concern about the feelings of those below, as long as they pleased those above. One case in point is the headmaster of the Düsseldorf school Christopher Fyfe (see 4.9.) taught in. In the extract from the interview quoted here, Fyfe talks about his feeling of shock at a colleague’s revelation that he considers himself under the threat of ‘democratic terror’: the narration recalls

106

Germany 1945–1949

a certain naïvety grounded in the firm belief in the principle of democracy as a Good Thing, and the resulting difficulty in recognising possible negative effects in the application of a policy taken to be an application of the principle.

During the main part of the period I was there, people didn’t talk about politics very much. I think people were nervous about anything like that, there was still a lot of nervousness about. And here was this new regime coming in—it was supposed to be democratic, but nobody really trusted it very much, I think, then. For instance at the school, one of my colleagues said to me, and I must have been there at least a year or so before he would have said such a thing to me, he said: Then we had Nazi terror, now we have democratic terror, there is little difference.’ Now this absolutely dismayed and horrified me that he should say that, but he felt that the new democracy exerted a kind of terror over people, that you still had to be thinking all the time: am I doing the right thing? and if not, I will lose my job. So that was still quite strong in people’s minds. This brings me to the school, and the Oberstudiendirektor,1 who had an extraordinary kind of cunning. He was an elderly man who had been a Studienrat2 when the war broke out, so he had his feste Anstellung3 and didn’t need to bother about what he did. He believed—he was a teacher of English—he believed that the English, die Engländer, were going to win. He believed this quite firmly, and I’ve been told by people who hated him that this was so, and listened to BBC broadcasts, and he never joined the Party. At the end of the war, obviously, this man was promoted to be Herr Oberstudiendirektor. Now he himself was a man who was as Nazi as you could imagine, in his own feelings, and he in fact did exert a kind of terror in the school in that he employed many people, many of my colleagues, who were vulnerable. I’m sure he had chosen them because they were, they had been in the Party, or they were Ostflüchtlinge4 and they were—vulnerable. So people in the school were very conscious of this, that there was somebody who could destroy them, who was there—they knew this—all the time. And I’m certain the school wasn’t unique, but certainly there was a real terror. The little man who gave me that story about the democratic terror, he was a very nervous little man, he’d lived through the Nazi time and he’d lived through this, and he just wondered: am I going to lose my job tomorrow?

Foundations of a ‘new’ society

107

Source: Christopher Fyfe, interviewed by Manfred Malzahn (transcript from tape recording, unpublished)

Notes 1 2 3 4

Headmaster of a Gymnasium (grammar school) Senior teacher Security of tenure Refugees from the East

5

Economic reorganisation

5.1. THE MORGENTHAU PLAN Henry Morgenthau (born 1891) was US Treasury Secretary from 1934 to 1945, a person with strong views on the German question who had drawn up a plan in 1944 which was initialled by President Roosevelt, but met with considerable opposition within and outside the administration, and never became official US policy. The Morgenthau plan envisaged a radical deindustrialisation of Germany as the precondition to a lasting demilitarisation: Morgenthau’s view was that Germany would remain a threat to world peace for the foreseeable future, and if the Germans were in a position to produce prams, then they could also make aeroplanes again. However far this plan was from realisation—and any attempt to establish an agrarian island in the centre of an industrialised continent would certainly have presented almost insurmountable practical problems—it did have a psychological effect in Germany itself where the vision it conjured up became one of the great and persistent bugbears of the post-war period. One important element of Morgenthau’s reasoning has tended to be ignored by posterity, and that is the fact that he foresaw in a US policy directed towards the re-establishment of a strong economy in Germany the root of a serious confrontation with the Soviet Union. The following statement was to be presented to Roosevelt on 10 January 1945, but the Treasury Secretary decided against it because, as he said to his staff, ‘the President was very tired’ when he saw him. The statement puts its case in very direct terms, and whatever one assumes the many likely negative consequences of implementing Morgenthau’s policies would have been, there is a ring of truth in his prophetic warnings.

The more I think of this problem, and the more I hear and read discussions of it, the clearer it seems to me that the real motive of those who oppose a weak Germany is not any actual disagreement on these three points.1 On the contrary, it is simply an expression of fear of Russia and communism. It is the twenty-year-old idea of a ‘bulwark against Bolshevism’ which was one of the factors which 108

Economic reorganisation

109

brought this present war down on us. Because the people who hold this view are unwilling (for reasons which, no doubt, they regard as statesmanlike) to come out in the open and lay the real issue on the table, all sorts of smoke screens are thrown up to support the proposition that Germany must be rebuilt. Examples are: (a) The fallacy that Europe needs a strong industrial Germany. (b) The contention that recurring reparations (which would require immediate reconstruction of the German economy) are necessary so that Germany may be made to pay for the destruction she has caused. (c) The naïve belief that the removal or destruction of all German war materials and the German armament industry would in itself prevent Germany from waging another war. (d) The illogical assumption that a soft peace would facilitate the growth of democracy in Germany. (e) The fallacy that making Germany a predominantly agricultural country, with light industries but no heavy industries, would mean starving Germans. We can submit to you studies which in our opinion will demonstrate that these propositions and others leading to the same conclusions are false. This thing needs to be dragged out into the open. I feel so deeply about it that I speak strongly. If we don’t face it I am just as sure as I can be that we are going to let a lot of hollow and hypocritical propaganda lead us into recreating a strong Germany and making a foe of Russia. I shudder for the sake of our children to think of what will follow. There is nothing that I can think of that can do more at this moment to engender trust or distrust between the United States and Russia than the position this government takes on the German problem. Source: John Morton Blum (ed.), From the Morgenthau Diaries: Years of War 1941–1945 (Boston, 1967) pp. 394 f.

Note 1

i.e., that the Germans had ‘the will to try it again’, that no benevolent measures taken by the Allies could do anything about that in the short run, and that heavy industry was ‘the core of German’s war-making potential’

5.2. ‘NORMAL’ LIFE IN 1945 Hans-Erich Nossack was one of the many authors unable to publish in Nazi Germany. He made a living working in the business established by his father in

110

Germany 1945–1949

Hamburg, where all the manuscripts he kept at home were destroyed in the devastating air raid of 1943. Nevertheless, he became well known after the war in Germany and especially in France, where Jean-Paul Sartre helped to get his work published in translation. In 1956 he was finally able to make writing a full-time occupation. This letter dates from a time when the efforts of trying to write and trying to run a business were equally inhibited by circumstances, and many people’s energies were absorbed by the primary effort simply to live, whether or not they used the black market to provide themselves with extra luxuries. In his letter of 30 November 1945 to fellow-writer Hermann Kasack, Nossack attempts to describe his daily routine without moaning about his lot, which for him adds to the indignity of the situation which creates a new division of society into haves and have-nots, i.e. relatively well-provided black market profiteers and others sticking to an ordinary job and suffering for it.

I promised you to write you a more personal letter some time. But I am hardly getting round to it. Please consider, when reading all my letters, under what abnormally difficult circumstances they are being written. My office staff sits around me waiting for answers, telephone calls and visits from brokers interrupt me. But above all there is the cold; it muddles up one’s thoughts, and a letter with maybe a reasonable beginning peters out into nothing. I can hardly describe, and after all I don’t need to describe how we suffered from the cold as early as November. Neher’s1 fuel is not being distributed either, perhaps a hectolitre of wood some time, but that is not a lot. Most people walk about with swollen fingers and open wounds, and this paralyses all activity. On top of that, we have already had frost and snow; just now, however, it has become a bit warmer again. Our day begins at 5.30 a.m., when we are woken up by our neighbours who do not need to get up at this hour but do it anyway just for the heck of it. From 8 to 3 I suffer the office— all transport stops until 3 o’clock—but then I am so frozen that I can hardly walk, the more so because I can only take two slices of dry bread in to work. And then a hard battle for the tube begins. In the meantime, my wife has been giving lessons in the morning, then it takes her an hour rushing off at noon to get our food from the soup kitchen which we depend on because of the lack of gas, electricity, and cooking facilities, although the most important food coupons are used up this way; and then the most urgent errands are done. Around 3, she heats up our food on the little stove, so the room becomes slightly warmer. After the meal, I always have some DIY job to do, or logs to split etc. Between 5 and 6 I try to sleep, to draw a curtain on the day so far and to compensate for

Economic reorganisation

111

the missing calories at the same time. Later we take something reminiscent of tea and a little snack, and then, if there isn’t one of the occasional visits arranged, we sit facing each other working over a 15-Watt lightbulb. At ten, the sirens scream three times, at a quarter past twice, and at half past ten once; then, as they say here, there is a ‘curfew’, i.e. it is forbidden to go out. Most often I myself will sit up until one, wrapped in blankets, then I crawl into bed frozen. For a man who has the habit of walking up and down when doing creative work, these blankets are an irksome problem. There you have an average life. Different lives are possible. Our neighbours, for instance, literally start the morning with coffee, ham, and eggs. In the afternoon, their flat smells of frying and baking, the stove is glowing, and the smell of cigars rises to the ceiling. On the other hand, these people crawl into bed exhausted, at 8.30 p.m. exactly. On Sunday afternoons, they play Skat.2 There is nothing to criticise about this, and in spite of ham and eggs we would not want to change places with them. But it is a fatal burden that they consider us as thieving paupers, and they have so much energy due to their good diet that they have to keep quarrelling with us all the time—a special bone of contention is my staying up so long because of the electricity consumption, although we are very careful not to exceed our meagre contingent, and rather spoil our eyesight. The explanation for their lifestyle, by the way, is: mercado negro,3 and that they can spend 5,000 RM4 a month. If you are in this position, you don’t need to starve here either. All this just to illustrate the situation here. In fact, it is really beneath us to waste our time writing letters about these afflictions which everyone in Germany knows well enough himself; we have not seen any potatoes for two months, no vegetables since May, apart from the odd cabbage and now turnips. It’s a cruel life of starvation, I can assure you. If productivity drops in consequence, we need not be surprised. But enough of this. Source: B.Zeller (ed.), Als der Krieg zu Ende war: Literarisch-politische Publizistik 1945–1950, von Gerhard Hay, Hartmut Rambaldo und Joachim W.Storck. Eine Ausstellung des deutschen Literaturarchivs, Marbach 1973 (Munich, 1973) pp. 91 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Presumably Caspar Neher, illustrator of one of Kasack’s books Germany’s most popular card game, played between three people Black market See 4.6.

Figure 9 A black market in Berlin in 1945 –equally popular with civilians and Soviet troops

Economic reorganisation

113

5.3. THE US INITIATIVE On 6 September 1946, US Foreign Secretary James Francis Byrnes (born 1879) made a speech in Stuttgart (see 2.4.) which is generally seen as marking a turning point in US policy concerning Germany, putting reconstruction on the official agenda. The industrial output of Germany was only a third of its production before the war, in most branches of primary industries well below the percentages of the pre-war levels agreed on by the Allied Control Council as permissible under a demilitarised status; the lack of fuel, electricity, raw materials and machinery combined with the insufficiently fed workforce retarded an incipient recovery. Action was needed, but there was no Allied consensus about the way in which the German economy should be reshaped in order to supply the vital needs of the population. The decentralisation of economic power had been declared as a common goal in the Potsdam agreement, in recognition of the industry’s role in Hitler’s rise to power and the rearmament of the Reich which had made the war possible, but only in the Soviet zone did a radical reorganisation of economic life with lasting results take place. The French, suspicious of any form of reconstruction, and the British, with a Labour government favouring a large degree of public ownership and social control, were in effect taken in tow by a US policy which showed a growing disregard of previous intentions in favour of pragmatical considerations. Their sphere of influence was to be put back on its feet again, and it turned out that this meant a widespread restoration of the former division of property. Byrnes’s speech is one of the earlier indicators of such a pragmatic approach; the argument is clothed in the demand for a common Allied economic policy, but at the time it was already clear that the West was ready to go ahead with its own programme regardless of what happened in the Soviet zone.

A common financial policy is essential for the successful rehabilitation of Germany. Runaway inflation accompanied by economic paralysis is almost certain to develop unless there is a common financial policy directed to the control of inflation. A programme of drastic fiscal reform to reduce currency and monetary claims, to revise the debt structure, and to place Germany on a sound financial basis is urgently required. The United States has worked hard to develop such a programme, but fully coordinated measures must be accepted and applied uniformly to all zones if ruinous inflation is to be prevented. A central agency of finance is obviously necessary to carry out any such programme effectively. It is also essential that transportation, communications, and postal services should be organised throughout Germany without regard to zonal barriers. The nation-wide organisation of these

114

Germany 1945–1949

public services was contemplated by the Potsdam Agreement. Twelve months have passed and nothing has been done. Germany needs all the food she can produce. Before the war she could not produce enough food for her population. The area of Germany has been reduced. The population of Silesia, for instance, has been forced back into a restricted Germany. Armies of occupation and displaced persons increase demands while the lack of farm machinery and fertiliser reduces supplies. To secure the greatest possible production of food and the most effective use and distribution of the food that can be produced, a central administrative agency for agriculture should be set up and allowed to function without delay. Similarly, there is urgent need for the setting up of a central German administrative agency for industry and foreign trade. While Germany must be prepared to share her coal and steel with the liberated countries of Europe dependent on those supplies, Germany must be enabled to use her skills and her energies to increase her industrial production and to organise the most effective use of her raw materials. Germany must be given a chance to export goods in order to import enough to make her economy self-sustaining. Germany is a part of Europe, and recovery in Europe, and particularly in the states adjoining Germany, will be slow indeed if Germany with her great resources of iron and coal is turned into a poorhouse. Source: United States Department of State, Documents on Germany 1944– 1985 (Washington, undated), Department of State Publication 9446, pp. 94 f.

5.4. GROWING PROBLEMS Two years after the end of the war, the economic situation had deteriorated in spite of all endeavours of the authorities to ensure adequate supplies for the German population. The official figures for food rations were generally no higher than they had been in May 1945, and even that was only on paper: what the average consumer (Normalverbraucher) actually got on his or her plate was a different story. The growing dissatisfaction of the Germans was expressed in a growing number of demonstrations, while the Allies tried to assure a people who had become unable to provide for themselves that they were doing their best to help them. There were very few signs of improvement, however, to add credibility to such declarations. The newspapers reflected the fact that the state of the economy was the prime concern in the occupied territories, with political developments in Germany and the world at large all but eliminated from public concern for the time being. The leader of the Aachener Nachrichten (Aachen News) of 9 May 1947 consists of a collection of short reports about individual

Economic reorganisation

115

facets of the generally gloomy picture. With the press still under censorship, there is no open criticism of Allied policies; the juxtaposition of a British viewpoint and German news, however, speaks for itself.

London, 8 May (DPD1-Reuter) The British government as well as the administration in the British zone of occupation in Germany recognise that the present food shortage is the main obstacle preventing a steady recovery of the German economy, and that measures against this deplorable state of affairs are the most urgent task of bi-zonal politics; thus Renter’s economic correspondent on Tuesday. At the same time he declares that consultations about the food crisis in the British zone will be the subject of the talks which Lord Pakenham,2 British Secretary of State, will conduct in Düsseldorf and Berlin over the coming weekend. Insufficient deliveries The lack of flour is not the only one, although it is the most palpable. At the end of April, the ©decline in imports, and insufficient deliveries of grain by German farmers, led to the present critical shortage of bread. This came about because at the time, deliveries continued to fall, and imports were at the lowest level of the year. It is firmly emphasised that in the efforts to reverse the fall in imports, financial considerations never played a part; thus the correspondent. The correspondent is of the opinion that those measures to be taken in Germany itself should include higher deliveries and greater justice in distribution. The German authorities in charge of food may point out that the delivery quotas were originally fixed too high, but they have to admit in the same breath that the actual deliveries are too low, because the farmers sell part of their grain on the black market and keep back another part in their own stores, while at the same time the shortage of meat and fat is aggravated by the lack of readiness on the farmers’ part to carry out the programme for the slaughter of animals which has been announced. Only 650 calories Wuppertal, 8 May (own report) In Wuppertal, only 650 calories’ worth of food per day has been issued during the present week. The main committee of the town council, which consists of fourteen social democrats and fourteen members of other parties, has unanimously decided on 7 May to

Figure 10 Undernourishment is a general problem in post-war Germany; and these schoolboys represent the average rather than extreme cases

Economic reorganisation

117

stop all work by local politicians if there is no visible improvement of the food situation in the near future. They claim that the registration and distribution of German food products is made very difficult by the lack of executive powers on the part of the German authorities. In its resolution, the main committee appealed again to the occupational power, demanding a relief of the people’s predicament by instant and adequate food imports. Three slices of corn bread Essen, 8 May (DPD) Three slices of corn bread and a tiny heap of sugar represented the daily ration given out to the adult average consumer in Essen at an exhibition put on by the Essen Nothilfe3 on Thursday. Part of the exhibition was a graphic representation of the decrease in the daily amount of calories from 1414 calories in ration period 96 to 887 calories in the first two weeks of ration period 101. The exhibition was also visited by the British military commander of Essen, and by representatives of the English Salvation Army and the Swedish Red Cross. Source: ‘Die Hungerkrise wächst zur Katastrophe’, in: Aachener Nachrichten (9 May 1947) p. 1

Notes 1 2 3

Deutscher Pressedienst, German Press Agency See 2.7. ‘Distress Relief’, a German charity

5.5. THE ‘LARDER LAW’ Attempts of the German administration to handle the food shortage were severely hampered by their lack of executive powers and financial resources: consequently, the efforts of institutions such as the economic council of the bizonal VWG (Vereinigtes Wirtschaftsgebiet, United Economic Area) were directed at the fairest possible distribution according to need. Some of their measures were unpopular in certain regions, from which food supplies were to be redirected to other areas: Lower Saxony and Bavaria opposed such plans in campaigns named ‘potato war’ and ‘meat war’ respectively. Other laws were unpopular with certain groups of the population, such as the ‘larder law’ (Speisekammergesetz) of 23 January 1948, which forced farmers to register their food stores with the authorities until 20 February; other households were asked to register stocks of potatoes and flour exceeding the rationed amount.

118

Germany 1945–1949

Hans Schlange-Schöningen (born 1886) was the bi-zonal director of food and agriculture and a lobbyist of the farmers, often criticised for keeping back food that was urgently needed by the urban population. Schlange-Schöningen claimed that those who worked on the farms were simply unable to produce enough; the statement quoted here is an extract from a letter he wrote to the president of the VWG economic council, dated 9 February 1948. The buck is passed on: the argument put forward is that after the legislation concerning agriculture it is time to extend the new measures to industry, to ensure that farmers got access to the tools and machinery they required for the production of essential food supplies.

It is well known in what a desolate condition the farms are, all, without exception. The most basic things are missing. The farmer is supposed to use modern methods, but I do not dare talk about any kind of machinery. I am only talking about the most essential necessities: horseshoe nails, spades, harrows, ploughs, work clothes and shoes. How can they keep up the production, let alone increase it, if, as is the case in some villages, the only one ancient drilling machine has to be lent out from farm to farm during seed time, when it is important to use days or even hours of favourable weather? How should the farmer deliver his grain in time, if he is forced to wait perhaps for weeks for some threshing machine which may still be around somewhere? If this state of affairs persists, not only the farmer but more so the consumer will have to bear severe setbacks. But the public will blame it on the farmers again, and against such injustice he must be protected for the sake of social peace alone. I have a right to make such a demand, for nobody can accuse me of one-sided preferential treatment of agriculture. On the contrary: I have gone to the limit of the humanly possible in the interest of the starving consumer; in the debate about the socalled ‘larder law’ I have publicly asked the farmers to make an ‘advance payment’ again, to prevent an explosion of despair in the cities, and I am convinced that all reasonable fellow-farmers understand. The principle ‘If anyone has to be hungry, everyone should be equally hungry’ I now complement with the demand ‘If there has to be tight control, everyone should be equally controlled.’ Therefore I demand, not only in the interest of my profession but for the sake of the entire people’s food supply, that industry should be submitted to the same extensive controls as agriculture.

Economic reorganisation

119

Source: Hans Schlange-Schöningen (ed.), Im Schatten des Hungers: Dokumentarisches zur Ernährungspolitik und Ernährungswirtschaft in den Jahren 1945– 1949, herausgegeben von Hans Schlange-Schöningen, bearbeitet von Justus Rohrbach (Hamburg, 1955) pp. 182 f.

5.6. ‘DEMONTAGE’ Even after the introduction of the Marshall Plan, the dismantling of German industry known as ‘Demontage’ went on. The purpose of this policy was twofold: it was a way of decreasing Germany’s military potential as well as a means of satisfying the Allied demands for reparations; however, the instant satisfaction of those demands by taking away some of the means of production invariably meant decreasing the potential of the German economy to provide future payments. Also, the cost of carrying out large-scale operations in some cases exceeded the value of the assets which were to be removed. Still, the dismantling policy was not dropped in spite of some modifications of original plans, which were carried out most rigorously in the Soviet zone from which the USSR tried to get as much compensation as possible for the huge losses suffered during the war. But in the West, too, entire industrial plants kept disappearing, bound for Allied countries or other nations who had been affected by the war, until as late as 1951. Whereas at first this could be seen as part of a coherent policy, the simultaneous implementation of reconstruction plans created a paradoxical situation which gave rise to accusations of hypocrisy levelled at the Allies by politicians and the public. One of the side-effects of Demontage highlighted by the trade unions was the withdrawal of a considerable part of the workforce from more productive labour; the following document is a joint statement by the trade unions and the Ministry of Labour in Northrhine-Westphalia about the problems arising.

1 The selection of those eighty-nine plants combined in group I is made by the Anglo-German industry committee according to economical and technical considerations, taking into account orders and capacities. Basically, group I includes plants which are not operating or operating without permit. 2 The following statements concerning this List I are made, by order of the Anglo-German industry committee, with regard to labour and social policy. 3 The eighty-nine plants in category I to be dismantled represent, in a cautious assessment, a total dismantling weight of 400,000 tons. (The plant B/S 59—August Thyssen steel works at Bruckhausen, with a dismantling weight of 300,000 tons is left out here as well as in the following.)

120

Germany 1945–1949

4 Through previous dismantling ordered by the Military Government, about 100,000 tons of those have been taken down already. 5 According to those experiences we can draw on to date, one labourer handles 20 tons a year. 6 Providing that the plants in category I, on the whole nonoperational plants without a workforce, are to be dismantled in a year’s time, about fifteen thousand full-time labourers are needed to carry this out. According to experience, the dismantling of steel and iron works requires around one-third skilled and two-thirds unskilled labour, i.e. 5,000 skilled and 10,000 unskilled labourers. (These figures are doubled by the inclusion of the August Thyssen steel works.) 7 The centres of dismantling are according to our documents the towns of Essen, Bochum, Dortmund, Düsseldorf, Witten, Hagen, Krefeld (and maybe Duisburg). 8 To bring labour into these centres from outside is impossible; among other reasons, neither accommodation nor transport can be provided. Thus only local labour can be drawn on, but the local workforce is mostly working in plants which are not on the dismantling list, and whose full production is encouraged also by the British side in the framework of the industrial plan. The serious situation in the most important regional centres is shown in the following statistics: 9 To free this amount of labour will necessarily lead to considerable disruption, as the primary effect will be on direct or indirect supplies for mining, transport, food, and export industries. Besides, there is a serious risk that also the consumer goods industry will be affected directly.

Economic reorganisation

121

10 As for carrying out dismantling, strong political reservations must be made concerning wages and working conditions, as there are as yet no standardised agreements on wages and working conditions for workers employed in dismantling. In case of drafting people into service, some considerable wage losses in relation to their present wages would have to be suffered by those called up. Thus the necessary arrangements should be made before dismantling begins. 11 Very considerable reservations exist concerning the introduction of special benefits, such as CARE1 parcels etc., envisaged by the military government for those employed in dismantling. The experiences in mining, and partly with Germans employed by the military government, have shown the dangers. We must warn against such measures, which are likely to threaten peaceful labour relations, especially in the present situation. Source: Die Gewerkschafisbewegung in der britischen Zone: Geschäftsbericht des Deutschen Gewerkschaftsbundes (britische Zone) 1947–1949 (Cologne, 1949) pp. 145 ff.

Note 1

See 3.6.

5.7. WAITING FOR THE D-MARK One of the factors holding back economic development was the monetary situation. There was too much cash, and not enough to buy with it, and although the situation was as yet far from the extreme acceleration of the inflationary period of the 1920s, it was bad enough to convince the Allies that urgent action was needed. This had been agreed on as early as September 1946, when all four allied Powers reached a consensus on a new currency to be introduced in all occupational zones; what they could not agree on, however, was where and under whose control the new money should be printed. When the Allied Control Council finally broke up on 20 March 1948, the new Deutsche Mark for the Western zones was already there, shipped over to Germany from the United States. The public knew that a currency reform was imminent, but what they did not know was the date when it would eventually happen. This was threatening to bring trade in the Western zones virtually to a standstill, making further delays for attempts to resolve the question on a four-Power basis even more unlikely. The monthly report of the US military government for May 1948 reflects this situation prior to ‘X-Day’, 20 June, which eventually put an end to the black market economy and paved the way for the Wirtschaftswunder, the economic miracle of the 1950s. The section of the report quoted here is headed ‘Manpower’.

122

Germany 1945–1949

During May, hedging against currency reform by many employers and employees took the labour market virtually out of control of the public labour exchanges. Workers flocked to industries where they obtained part of their pay in kind or as bonuses under private incentive schemes or the ‘Bonus B’ programme. Workers also sought jobs in industries which they believed would weather the critical months following the expected monetary change. Proof of a generally inflated employment situation was seen in the fact that, with currency reform in the offing, registered job openings declined during May by about 40 per cent. In Land Hesse, they declined from 69,830 at the end of April to 48,300 at the end of May, without any of these registered jobs being filled by the public labour exchanges, owing to withdrawal of job offers by employers. Placements during May in the US Zone also were about 25 per cent lower than in April. Unemployment among women increased slightly, but over-all unemployment on 30 April had declined to 236,000, the smallest figure since the war. Reluctance of producers to sell their products resulted in artificial shortages of raw materials and semi-fabricated articles in many branches of industry. This situation, and the unwillingness of manufacturers to use up stocks, led many plants to shut down for their annual holidays two to three months earlier than usual. The number of actual dismissals was small. Employers preferred to keep their workers on the books, even though full wages were not paid. Labour morale and efficiency declined in industries not granting bonuses or incentives in kind, because of increasing scarcities of consumer goods. Trade unions charged that distributors were even withholding foodstuffs from the market. Recruitment of volunteer workers for the Ruhr mines,1 which had to compete for labour with other industries offering more attractive inducements, continued to decline. During May, only 575 prospective recruits arrived from the US Zone at the Hoechst assembly area. Of this number, a normal 12.3 per cent was disqualified for physical reasons, and 504 recruits were sent to the Ruhr, raising the total number sent since the beginning of the recruitment programme to 14,391 workers. Since the shortage of housing facilities in the Ruhr is one of the major handicaps in the recruiting of volunteers for the Ruhr mines, the UK/US Coal Control Group has recommended that clothing and footwear be provided for building trade workers engaged on the Ruhr miners’ housing, as an incentive to higher productivity. The chairmen of the Bipartite Control Office (BICO) recommended

Economic reorganisation

123

to the Coal Control Group that 50,000 sets of heavy trousers and jackets, winter shirts, woollen socks, heavy boots and shoes, and any surplus stocks of gas capes or similar articles for use in wet weather, be allocated to the Ruhr housing workers. Source: Office of Military Government for Germany US, Monthly report of the Military Governor, vol. 35 (May 1948) pp. 14 f.

Note 1

See 2.5., 11.6.

5.8. APPROACHING ‘X-DAY’ The currency reform of 20 June 1948 gave rise to one of the most persistently popular myths of Western Germany: the fact that everyone got their initial 40 D-Marks without distinction formed the basis of the argument that everyone had an equal start, and success or failure depended entirely on personal initiative. In fact, there was very little equality and even less justice in the situation created by the operation. Material assets were unaffected, and as bank accounts were devalued at a rate of 6.5 new Deutsche Mark to 100 old Reichsmark, small savings dwindled to almost nothing while the owners of large fortunes could still be left with substantial sums of money as well as shares, which they could expect to increase in value considerably as the economic miracle gained momentum. The goods which had suddenly reappeared in the shops disappeared again rapidly, and prices increased to an extent which angered the average wage-earners. The free market economy, many people felt, had been introduced in a country which was by no means ready for it, and it was not until much later when larger parts of the population benefited from the Wirtschaftswunder, that only the die-hard critics of capitalism were left to express their misgivings about the new old order. The newspaper article quoted here from Darmstädter Echo of 8 June 1848 captures the mood shortly before ‘X-Day’, with virtually everybody under the impression that they must act before it is too late, but not everybody in agreement as to what the right thing to do actually is.

What had been whispered in pubs and behind shop counters has become the talk of the day. Everyone tries in his own way to minimise the damage. At the counters of the banks, there are crowds of small savers. We do a little round, asking: ‘What are you doing with your money?’ ‘Paying it in!’ says a worried housewife, who puts her thousand Marks on the counter. ‘Some of it has to remain after all. The black

124

Germany 1945–1949

market prices are too high. I do hope that after the reform, there will be some things to buy again.’ ‘My daughter works with the authorities,’ another one explains. ‘She just said: Mother, take everything out.’ Next to her a crafty 50-year-old man, with the red pay-out form as well: ‘You have to have a good nose for it (he had one), then you can save something yet.’ A young man intervenes: ‘If we want to keep anything, we have to pay it in, for the plan is to hit especially the exorbitant profits of the black market dealers which are not registered.’ Confused by the contradictory opinions, we turn to a bank clerk: ‘Confidentially, not officially, I advise you to buy, if you can still buy anything.’ A typist of the bank suggests: ‘Withdraw only as much as you can still invest.’ ‘Invest’: this is also the opinion of a coquettish shop assistant withdrawing the money from her account. ‘What in?’ we ask in astonishment. ‘If there is no other way, in adverts for a marriage partner. But preferably of course in stockings and fabrics—fashion demands it.’ ‘You can believe me,’ insists the nervous 30-year-old lady, ‘I am only taking out 3,000 Marks, my husbands needs it to do business.’ In the street, we meet a black market dealer: Those people putting their money in the bank are stupid enough. I have none.—Do you need anything, perhaps?’ ‘It’s going to be hit anyway,’ says a 40-year-old welder. ‘I’m leaving it in the bank.’ A 56-year-old man, poorly dressed, bombed out of his home, smiles: ‘I have no money which could be wasted, I can hardly get the beds together again.’ ‘I want to travel, so I can still benefit from the money.’ The 60year-old lady does not look like a globetrotter at all. As she opens her bag, a packet of Chesterfield appears. ‘Will you buy cigarettes?’ We were everywhere. There are more savers frequenting the banks, but pay-ins and withdrawals are roughly equal. Many trust in the belief that the small saver will not lose his last possessions, and leave their money in the bank. The rumours about a ban on withdrawals are totally unfounded in Darmstadt. The rumour that ‘X-Day’ is imminent, however, has given rise to a certain nervousness in front of and behind the counters, in spite of the people’s level-headedness. Source: ‘Was machen Sie eigentlich? X-Tag in Sicht—Sparer und Währungsreform’, in: Werner Wolf (ed.), Trümmer, Tränen, Zuversicht: Alltag in Hessen 1945–1949. Herausgegeben von Werner Wolf unter Mitarbeit von Harald Edel (Frankfurt/Main, 1986) pp. 275 f.

Economic reorganisation

125

5.9. REACTIONS TO THE MARSHALL PLAN On 5 June 1947, the new US Foreign Secretary George Catlett Marshall announced the launch of a European Recovery Programme (ERP), soon to be more commonly known as the Marshall Plan. The offer of financial assistance was extended to all European countries, but the countries in the Soviet sphere of influence, including their occupational zone in Germany, declined what the USSR regarded with some justification as a Trojan horse of capitalism. The Marshall Plan was indeed geared to a consolidation of the West, based on the assumption that well-fed and prosperous people would be less likely to be attracted to communist ideology, and the 3.5 billion US dollars pumped into the economy of Western Germany until the early 1950s did prove to have the desired effect. Socialists and communists in the Western zones found themselves in a grave dilemma: if they argued against the acceptance of US aid for political reasons, they would weaken their position in the public opinion of a people who knew that economic aid was urgently needed; if they supported the plan, they would be open to criticism for sacrificing their own vision of a future Germany. A key factor was the attitude of trade unions, especially the new umbrella organisation DGB (Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund) in the British zone, where the matter was no less controversial than elsewhere (see 11.7., 11.8.). DGB president Hans Böckler (born 1875) strongly advocates a cautious Yes on 16 June 1948 at a congress meeting in Recklinghausen, called especially to debate the Marshall Plan issue. Böckler argues that beggars can not afford to be too choosy, and that accepting Marshall Plan aid need not mean abandoning trade union demands such as the call for a nationalisation of primary industries, but that with the scheme going ahead and gathering momentum after the currency reform, non-participation would be detrimental to the trade union movement.

We have to put up with a lot—simply because of the fact that there is no other way out for the starving man. He grasps the last thing that promises him salvation. In this position are we. This is a painful recognition. Not through our own fault, but through the cursed system which we did not want, we have got into such circumstances. Through participation in the Marshall Plan, we get a chance to play a part again in the community of European nations, and to work with them. I should think that this is of some value for our trade union movement in particular. Besides, we find the opportunity to re-establish trade union relations with the rest of the world. These are things we should not underestimate. Otherwise, disadvantages for us might arise. The war and fascist Germany have brought our Europe down, so that it is not able to rise through its own efforts. The Nazi regime has made of Germany a heap of rubble, politically and economically.

126

Germany 1945–1949

We, however, are forcefully driven towards a resolution by the most dire distress. Because of this, we in the federal council have decided to take part in the London conference of those nations involved in the Marshall Plan. It never occurred to us to agree to the Marshall Plan without reservations. With regard to individual issues, we will act according to the respective circumstances. This alone was the reasoning when we went to London. The opinions of trade union representatives are quite unanimous. The Marshall Plan is not seen as a cure, but as a help to make a start. The colleagues supported our joining of the committee formed by the Länder trade unions. What should have prevented me from refusing such a request? We are trying to re-establish our foreign links. Should we say no here, when we are given a concrete function? Now we have the Marshall Plan. If it is to be successful, the people of Europe must free themselves of their limited national interests, of a way of thinking which has constrained their states for centuries. We have to see the wider European context. Each country participating in the Marshall Plan must contribute to this. The path has to be cleared for reconstruction and progress. As trade unionists, we mean by economic progress the new and productive economic method. If we stand fast by that economic restructuring we aim for in general, then we may well trust in our own strengths and hope that what we consider right will prevail here and in other countries! Source: Die Gewerkschaftsbewegung in der britischen Besatzungszone: Geschäftsbericht des Deutschen Gewerkschaftsbundes (britische Besatzungszone) 1947–49 (Cologne, 1949) pp. 136 f.

6

Homecomers and refugees

6.1. ON THE MOVE The first major wave of civilian refugees began to arrive in the central regions of the Reich as the war entered German territory in the East. While Nazi propaganda still talked about the Endsieg, i.e. final victory, those who had to leave their homes and most of their belongings literally brought home the fact of the relentless advance of enemy troops to the population of the German heartland. Alice Johnstone (born 1929), then only fifteen years old and bearing her maiden name Malzahn, was a student at a college for primary school teachers in the small town of Rössel in East Prussia, which was about to be taken by the Red Army in January 1945. As the front drew too near for comfort, the headmaster and his family pulled out in their car, leaving the girls at the college to fend for themselves: while the local students attempted to make their own way home, those whose families lived further away stayed on until they were found by a Wehrmacht medical unit converting the supposedly abandoned building into a makeshift field hospital. Contrary to the rules, the soldiers took the remaining girls with them as they boarded their hospital train bound for the town of Heiligenbeil south-west of Königsberg, where more refugees were gathering, waiting for a chance to get to the port of Danzig, and on to one of the ships taking refugees out of East Prussia. The diary of Alice Johnstone records the mixed emotions of a teenage girl far from her family, in a situation of extreme danger, the main ingredients being fear, relief, adventure, and romance, in different permutations according to rapidly changing circumstances in a situation which appears as as essentially a struggle between the forces of chaos and order.

1 February 1945 Today we learn by accident that five girls from Rössel are here. Wonderful. In town we meet some more. What a joy that was. Later, seven more arrive. We go to see the Ortsgruppenleiter1 and he promises us private accommodation. Wonderful! Four girls have been put up already. It’s as in a dream. Perhaps we are dreaming, 127

128

Germany 1945–1949

after all. In town, it’s terrible. One can hardly get through. They’ve put up refugees in schools. What a commotion, seven-hundred people, you just can’t stand the noise. Poor people. The small children are crying, everything is so cramped. We can think ourselves lucky. Today we are lying in some shack. This used to be a kindergarten. It’s quite nice, just cold. Tomorrow we are going into private accommodation. And we are really hungry. That is the best thing of all, that we can at last fill our bellies. The girls are lying here dead tired, and I can’t keep my eyes open either. Good night, dear parents, and dear All. Are you thinking of me? 2 February 1945 This is real sleeping. Until ten we lie wrapped in our blankets. We can have breakfast whenever we choose. Is something like this possible at all? The Ortsgruppenleiter was here, to say he is glad that we are helping in the kitchen. The girls and the woman from the kitchen praised us, too. Six girls are in private accommodation, and the seven of us will also get there. We may even get to cook for ourselves, if we have the facilities. If not, we’ll be eating here. Two girls are on kitchen duty. We are glad that things are going in an orderly way at last. Just now, refugees from Masuren2 are passing by. The file is just endless. A ceaseless flow of people. Here, there’s a lot of toys around, as the kindergarten used to be here. Picture books and such things are lying about, too. In the afternoon, we will have to go to the registration. Now we must stay here until everything sorts itself out. We can’t get out anyway. We’ll have to wait. What are you all doing? You’ve also got alerts all the time, haven’t you? Here, the food is excellent. Yesterday we had pea soup. It was really tasty. The only good thing is that the food is fine. If we could only be with you now. It’s just no life here. The heavy flak is firing again. Doors and windows are vibrating. Normally one would be trembling with fear, but now one’s got used to it and just keeps writing. Perhaps you aren’t any better off either. But at least you’re all together. That’s the greatest happiness after all. Just now there’s noise again. Everyone lies down on the ground. The hut is threatening to turn over. My God, when and how do we get out of here. Across the Haff?3 That is flooded. Thus, no go either. There is lamenting and whimpering here. Some mothers have lost children. Some have frozen to death. What a misery. I think we won’t get out any more, as the shooting and the

Homecomers and refugees

129

explosions are getting louder all the time. We still need to get some bread, in case we’re to go across the Haff. I can’t quite believe that we’ll still get out, but one can always hope, and must hope, all the same. Source: Diary of Mrs Alice Johnstone, née Malzahn (unpublished)

Notes 1 2 3

See 4.6. Southern region of East Prussia Frisches Haff, one of the lagoons on this part of the Baltic coast which frequently freeze over during the winter

6.2. THE SEARCH FOR MISSING PERSONS For many Germans after the war, the prime concern was to find their relations from whom they had been separated in one way or another, or at least to find out what had happened to them. This was no easy task in a country whose bureaucratic machinery had all but collapsed with the totalitarian regime which it served; the new administrations had limited powers and restricted communications. Parents who had lost sight of their children, or released prisoners of war who returned to a ruined house with nobody at hand to ask for information about the fate of its inhabitants, often chose to take the matter into their own hands rather than trust some authority to undertake the search on their behalf. Especially ex-PoWs could be found on the road, and not only because they were looking for their families: an official estimate of 1948 names a figure of two million Heimkehrer (homecomers) in the three Western zones who knew that they had no homes to go to because their families were dead, or because their wives had found someone else during their enforced absence. These people did not always choose a travelling life out of their own free will; for if they could not prove that they had previously lived, or had close relatives, in a particular place, they were often refused a permanent residence permit, or even deported. There were several attempts to ease the situation: private initiatives for so-called ‘godparentships’ (Patenschaften), for instance, tried to find host families for homeless homecomers, and charitable organisations ran their own schemes to locate missing persons. The newspaper report from Marburger Presse of 25 September 1945 quoted below attempts to boost public confidence in such operations by stressing their success rate, warning people to stay put and have faith in the Red Cross if they want their loved ones back.

On the roads and in the refugee camps, every single day, one encounters thousands of refugees and released soldiers, who have been wandering from town to town for weeks and months to look

130

Germany 1945–1949

for their relatives. Even the fact that many towns have taken action against the population influx from outside, and no longer give any food coupons to non-entitled incomers, is not enough to deter the searchers who, in their distress, often act without deliberation in order to achieve their goal in one way or another. Many give their last penny to private tracing services which, in some cases, turn the distress of the refugees into a considerable profit. This is why in many places all private enterprises have been shut down, and the German Red Cross alone has been entrusted with the search campaign. For this purpose, the DRK 1 has undertaken the untiring effort of building up its investigation services. Tens of thousands of people torn away from their families have already been reunited with their relatives by the DRK investigation services. Between 800 and 900 missing persons per day are now being located by the central office, whose files are permanently updated according to reports from Land and district offices of the DRK and liaison officers of Wehrmacht departments and PoW camps, as well as according to new private applications sent directly to the head office. Twice as many notification cards are sent out every day by the central office, i.e. messages to the applicants as well as the missing persons found. The investigation services are growing by the day, so that in the not too distant future, a daily success rate of more than one thousand persons found can be expected. Our urgent advice to every person looking for anyone is therefore not to go off wandering on a private search, but to make his or her wishes known—if this has not been done yet—to the nearest district office of the German Red Cross. From there, the search applications are passed on to the central office, from where the applicants and the persons searched for, if found, are directly notified. All searchers who do not have the opportunity to hand in their applications personally to the district office in Marburg can send them in on a simple postcard. Wanted are the following data: 1 Surname of applicant, Christian name, date and place of birth, marital status, exact last home address, exact current address. 2 Details of relatives living with the applicant. (Surname, Christian name, date of birth, relationship with applicant). 3 Which relatives are missing? (Surname, Christian name, date of birth, relationship with applicant, and last known address). All information is to be typed or printed clearly, and sent to the DRK Investigation Office, Marburg, Deutschhausstr. 21. For

Figure 11 Returned PoWs are asked for information about missing husbands and sons

132

Germany 1945–1949

personal inquiries, the office will be open daily between 8 a.m. and noon, and between 2 and 6 p.m. Source: ‘Wie suche und finde ich meine Angehörigen?’, in: Werner Wolf (ed.), Trümmer, Tränen, Zuversicht: Alltag in Hessen 1945–1949. Herausgegeben von Werner Wolf unter Mitarbeit von Harald Edel (Frankfurt/Main, 1986) pp. 147 f.

Note 1

Deutsches Rotes Kreuz, German Red Cross

6.3. GERMANY’S PRODIGAL SONS When and if they chose to come back after the war, Germans who had emigrated after the Nazis came to power in 1933 found themselves in a delicate position. In Nazi terms, they had been either unwanted aliens in case they were Jewish, or, if not, simply traitors to their people. Even those who could hardly be described as Nazis frequently harboured some grudge against anyone who had chosen to go into exile instead of staying to suffer such hardships as the majority of their compatriots had been through. Misgivings about emigrants were widespread and long-lasting; a prominent case in point was the young socialist Herbert Frahm who, under his adopted name of Willy Brandt, became chancellor of the Federal Republic in 1969 and still found himself to be the target of occasional doubts about his personal integrity, based on his emigration to Scandinavia. In the immediate post-war years, feelings of suspicion against the minority that had left Germany after 1933 reflected the suspicions of the outside world against all but a few of the majority who had lived inside Nazi Germany: the communication between the two sides was at best difficult, even if the emigrants were professional communicators, such as journalists, novelists, and poets. This extract from an article by Hans Wallenberg (born 1907), secretary of the German American Writers’ Association in the US and after his return editor of the Munich daily Die Neue Zeitung (The New Newspaper), expresses the frustration of those who saw themselves as the spokesmen for a better Germany with the way their voices were received back home. Wallenberg himself had to contend with additional suspicions voiced in the American New Leader, of being a communist ‘fellow traveller’ in democratic disguise.

The Neue Zeitung has reported in an earlier edition that F.C. Weiskopf,1 the Czechoslovakian author of works in German, is planning publication of a book entitled ‘German literature in exile 1933–1945’ in the United States. It was one of the growing number of reports about activities by those who were driven out and banished from Germany by the National Socialists in 1933. If during

Homecomers and refugees

133

the days of Hitler’s rule the German public had only heard harmful, scandalous and libellous things about those Germans, if they had grown used to an equation of the term ‘emigrant’ with ‘criminal’, then now, since May 1945, they have learned some unconnected facts which might have made them sit up and take notice: all of a sudden, there were people in Germany who were asking Thomas Mann2 to come back; there were others who believed themselves unable to forgive him for not complying with this request immediately; people could read that the great German actor Albert Bassermann would be returning to Berlin; that the conductor Bruno Walter would one day be leading the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra again; that the authors Johannes R.Becher3 and Friedrich Wolf4 had come back to Germany from Russia; and then, suddenly, the term ‘Inner Emigration’ appeared on the scene. But at the same time, the editors of those newspapers who referred to the emigrants in such a fashion were inundated with dozens of letters with the ever-repeated question how important those emigrants were anyway, and whether people did not have more important things to worry about instead of contemplating the return of Thomas Mann or Oskar Maria Graf5 from America. And other letters pointed to the wall which, they claimed, separates the Germans in Germany from their ‘fortunate’ brothers in foreign parts today. What, it was asked again in other letters, have the ‘broken voices of the emigrants’ got to tell us? It is simple to lament this lack of understanding. But the only important thing is to make a contribution to improve this state of affairs. If today those who stayed at home and those who were driven out are really separated by a wall, then the thing to do is not to state the fact in resignation, but to systematically pull down this wall. That neither side will be on the giving or on the receiving end exclusively, hardly needs to be mentioned. What the writers among the emigrants have over the past decade been lamenting most deeply, again and again, is the fact that they were forcefully torn away from the home of their hearts, and the longing for the lost paradise of their hearts has found its expression in poetry which is among the most beautiful in the German tongue. We should only remember the songs of longing written by Max Hermann-Neisse6 and the otherwise so unemotional Bert Brecht7 these verses may not have transcended the borders, but beyond the borders they expressed the grief of hundreds of thousands who once counted themselves as part of Germany, and maybe even among the best of Germans, in ever-valid form. Their eyes turned back, the German poets in exile

134

Germany 1945–1949

suffered all the more, the richer they regarded the gifts and the inspiration they received from the Germany which they call theirs. Source: ‘Brücken statt Mauern. Eine offene Betrachtung zu dem Problem des Geistes im Exil’, in: Die neue Zeitung: Eine amerikanische Zeitung für die deutsche Bevölkerung. Feuilleton-und Kunst-Beilage (11 January 1946) p.1

Notes 1 2 3

4 5 6 7

Franz Carl Weiskopf, born 1900 in Prague; novelist, critic, and journalist See 6.6. Born 1891; poet, returned from exile in various countries, finally the USSR, to become president of the Kulturbund zur demokratischen Erneuerung Deutschlands (Cultural Association for the Democratic Renewal of Germany) in the Soviet zone, appointed GDR minister of culture 1954 Born 1888, medical man, playwright, and author of fiction who was imprisoned in a concentration camp during almost the entire period of Nazi rule, came to live in the Eastern part of Germany Novelist and poet, born 1894, lived in exile in New York Nom de plume of all-round creative writer Max Herrmann, born 1886, died in his London exile in 1941 Eugen Berthold Friedrich Brecht, born 1898, poet and dramatist; returned to the Soviet Zone of Germany from exile in the USA

6.4. REFUGEES BY ORDER After the first wave of people who fled before the advancing Soviet troops, there was a second movement of Germans from East to West, swelling the population of all four Allied zones by about ten millions. These were the expellees from Eastern Europe, the territory where Nazi barbarism had had its most devastating effect. The policy of creating ‘Lebensraum’ (i.e., room to live) for the German people offered the inhabitants of the East merely the role of agricultural serfs to the master race, and the behaviour of the German troops and administrators was governed by the tenet that the Slavs were a race of Untermenschen (i.e. sub-humans). Consequently, the fact that for instance the reconstituted states of Poland and Czechoslovakia were keen to get rid of the Germans left in their territory could come as no great surprise; in the case of Poland and the Soviet Union, the territory included those Eastern provinces of the German Reich which were to be under their administration. Neither could the expulsion programme be expected to go through without considerable hardships for those who had survived initial acts of revenge: the Western Allies, having agreed to the measures in principle, did little more than express concern about the way they were to be carried out, and insist on ‘a humane and orderly’ procedure, as in the agreement between Britain and Poland quoted here on the handling of ‘trainloads and shipments’ of expellees of 14 February 1946. Later estimates of the total loss of lives among refugees and expellees which name figures of around two million deaths give an impression of the reality behind such official formulas.

Homecomers and refugees

135

4 ACCEPTANCE ARRANGEMENTS Expellees will be accepted by the British authorities on the border of Poland and the Soviet Occupied Zone of Germany and, for this purpose, British Repatriation Teams will be stationed at STETTIN and KALAWSK (Kohlfurt). Agreed that trainloads and shipments having been inspected and approved by British Repatriation Teams in Polish territory will be accepted without question by the British Zone authorities. This is to ensure that trainloads will not be turned back into Soviet Occupied Zone of Germany. The strength of the teams at each point will be approximately three officers and three other ranks (including medical staff) plus interpreter. Polish authorities agree to supply accommodation and food to the Repatriation Teams; British authorities will provide cars and petrol. Soviet authorities will provide necessary permits and transit facilities for the British Repatriation Teams to proceed to STETTIN and KALAWSK (Kohlfurt). 5 DISINFESTATION All expellees will be dusted with DDT Powder at STETTIN and KALAWSK (Kohlfurt), which will be observed by British Repatriation Teams. This will mean that trains coming into STETTIN and KALAWSK (Kohlfurt) will be held for approximately three hours. British authorities will immediately make available to Polish authorities in Berlin 3 tons of DDT Powder, Polish authorities will arrange onward transport of this DDT Powder to Poland. Further supplies of DDT Powder will be furnished by the British authorities and backloaded in returning empty stock from HELMSTEDT and LUBECK when the movement commences. 6 TRAIN GUARDS Polish authorities will supply guards, approximately ten per train. The guards will be rationed by the Polish authorities for the round trip, and the British agree to arrange overnight accommodation for the guards in the British Zone. 7 TRAIN SCHEDULES It will greatly facilitate dispersal arrangements within the British Zone if all trains could be so timed that they arrive from Poland at reception points in the British Zone before noon daily. Soviet authorities will do everything possible to meet this requirement.

136

Germany 1945–1949

8 BAGGAGE Expellees will be permitted to take with them as much of their own baggage as they can carry in their hands, including bedding and cooking utensils. 9 CURRENCY Expellees will be permitted to take with them a maximum of 500 Reichsmarks per head. No currency other than Reichsmarks can be taken to the British Zone. 10 RATIONS STETTIN-LUBECK route by sea: Polish authorities will supply two days’ rations, plus one day’s reserve, to cover passage to LUBECK. On the rail route STETTIN to BAD SEGEBERG, each train will leave STETTIN with two days’ rations, plus one day’s reserve. On the rail route from KALAWSK (Kohlfurt) to MARIENTAL, ALVERSDORF and FRIEDLAND, each train will leave KALAWSK (Kohlfurt) with three days’ rations, plus one day’s reserve. All unexpired portions of rations will be unloaded at destinations in British Zone. Source: Wilhelm Cornides (ed.), Europa-Archiv: Zeitgeschichte, Zeitkritik, Verwaltung (August 1947) p. 824

6.5. THE LONG WAIT OF THE POWS When Federal Chancellor Konrad Adenauer negotiated the release of more than fifteen thousand prisoners of war from the Soviet Union in the autumn of 1955, he received almost universal acclaim at home, helping his popularity ratings during the divisive debate on re-armament. When the last PoWs came back from the USSR, they found that, in spite of some fundamental changes, in one respect they had stayed away long enough to see a reversal to a familiar state of affairs: they had missed the short era of a Germany without German soldiers, when extended detention of captives by the Allies could hardly be justified by a potential military threat their return would pose. Such arguments would have seemed more likely in the mid-1950s than in the years of occupation, when most Germans could see no good reason at all why the four victorious Powers did not let their people go. On the side of the Allies, there were different reasons for different degrees of reluctance to part with their initially univited guests; apart from views of imprisonment as atonement and the prisoners as pawns, there was the economic usefulness a cheap and almost trouble-free labour force could have, as described in the following article of 21 December

Homecomers and refugees

137

1946. Around Christmas, the most important annual family event in Germany, the absence of fathers, son, and brothers from many households took on an added poignancy, and the result could be such bitterness as pervades this report about PoWs in France, written under the condition of censorship which prohibited any direct criticism of Allied policies.

The French Foreign Office has just announced that the German prisoners of war in France are to receive better clothing this winter, and a rise in their rations up to a future 2,000 calories per day. This declaration of the Foreign Office is the first official reaction to a report by the International Red Cross, and to the request put to France by the American army for an immediate improvement of the conditions for German prisoners of war. At the beginning of December, about two thousand prisoners of war working in the mines of Valenciennes simply stayed down the mine overnight, in protest against insufficient food and soap rations. They had sent a deputation to the manager of the mines, to complain about the shortages. The following morning, the protest strikers were taken out of the mine and into a camp, after their leaders had been arrested. The French authorities declared that the two-day strike had caused a loss of six thousand tons in coal production. A commission of the Red Cross visiting France had found that around seventy thousand German prisoners of war had to be released to go home on account of their ill health, and around fifty thousand were unfit to work. Of the seven hundred and fifty thousand German prisoners of war in France, more than six hundred thousand had been taken captive by the American forces. The Americans have merely ‘loaned’ these prisoners to France as a labour force. Because, however, the Americans feel responsible for the prisoners of war according to international law, the American army put an urgent request to the French government to carry out improvements of the conditions for German prisoners of war immediately. Prior to the army’s brief note, James Byrnes,1 the US Foreign Secretary, had already asked France, Belgium, Holland and Luxemburg to release those six hundred and seventy-four thousand prisoners of war taken by the American army before 1 October 1947. Holland, Luxemburg and Belgium declared their willingness to do so. In the opinion of the French government, the requested release

138

Germany 1945–1949

of the German prisoners of war would have catastrophic consequences for the French economy, two hundred thousand Germans are working in agriculture, sixty thousand in coal mines, and most of the rest are employed in reconstruction. Of the monthly coal output of around 4 million tons, about 920,000 tons are being produced by German prisoners of war. A while ago, the French Population Secretary Prigent2 made a considerable noise campaigning for Germans to remain in France. He even held out the prospect of marriage to French women, and of naturalisation. The Secretary has a good opinion of the German prisoners of war. He believes in an increase in the number of births, and in a high-quality, industrious workforce. The Labour Office opposes this, in unison with the unions. Both see in the romanised Teutons strong competition for the French worker. And a danger to peace at home. The German prisoners of war suffer such discussions with sour faces. At the moment, they are more interested in warm winter clothing, good food, soap and tobacco goods. And by the way, they would not mind going home either. Source: ‘Ausgepowerte PoW’s: Nicht wie Gott in Frankreich’, in: Diese Woche 1/5–6 (21 December 1946) p. 19

Notes 1 2

See 2.4., 5.3. Pierre Tanguy-Prigent, farmer and resistance activist in Brittanny, member of the French Socialist party

6.6. FROM MANN TO MANN Thomas Mann (born 1875) was the most prominent of the three novelist brothers who had emigrated from Germany as the Nazis rose to power. Novels such as Buddenbrooks (1901) or Der Zauberberg (The Magic Mountain, 1924) had established him as a widely acknowledged literary man, and moreover, a person whose voice was frequently heard in the public debate about contemporary issues of general interest. Mann did not even stop speaking to his compatriots when he went into exile in the US: thus, for instance, his voice could be heard in a radio broadcast in Germany at the turn of the year 1945/6, sending a New Year message from California that gave rise to some controversy in the old country. Only three years after the Nazis took over government, the university of Bonn withdrew from this public figure and internationally recognised doyen of German letters the honorary doctorate it had bestowed on him in 1919; in 1947, the new Dean of the philosophical faculty Professor Oertel sent a new copy of the diploma across the Atlantic, after some prior correspondence to ensure the acceptance of

Homecomers and refugees

139

the re-instatement. Public reaction was as mixed as Mann’s own sentiments about the procedure. The diversity and the ambiguity of attitudes, feelings, and expressions on this occasion are illustrated by the following passages from two letters by Mann himself, as well as an anonymous one with a Berlin postmark received by the university, and a message from a former graduate to the Dean.

a) Thomas Mann to Professor Oertel, 28 January 1947 I have to thank you cordially and ceremoniously for the renewal of the honorary doctoral diploma, and for the beautiful, all-expressing letters which you and the Herr Rektor sent on their way with the document. Not without emotion, I reread the lost document in its original, solemnly latinised wording, justifying in such a friendly manner the honour paid to my work, and I do not need to assure you, dear Herr Professor, that it warms my heart to think that I am now again connected with a German university as a member of its Philosophical Faculty. If anything can dampen my joy and satisfaction, it is the thought of the dreadful price which had to be paid before your famous university came to be in a position to revoke the enforced former action. Poor Germany! Such a wild up and down of its history has doubtlessly been no other country’s and no other people’s fate. b) Thomas Mann to University Control Officer R.G.Smith, 28 January 1947 It was very kind indeed that you added such friendly words to the letters of the rector of the Bonn University and of the dean of the philosophical faculty, and I am most grateful for your good wishes. It would have looked too bitter and resentful, if I had not accepted the offer of the university to restore to me my honorary degree, particularly, since I have been told time and time again that it was cancelled only under pressure and that this measure had never been regarded as legal. There is, of course, also something satisfactory in the feeling of being connected again with a German university, though it never occurred to me, that I ever could become again a German ‘Herr Doktor’. I am expressing my gratitude directly to the gentlemen of the University. c) Anonymous letter to the university, 10 March 1947, signed ‘Civis Germanicus’ It is undignified in the highest degree to give the honorary doctorate back to one who has insulted the German people like this mediocre

140

Germany 1945–1949

writer Thomas Mann! Worthy of this muckspreader is Erika Mann1 with her fomenting speech to the so-called American ‘Committee for the study of the German problem’, a conglomerate of Jews who would prefer to see Germany as small as the doddery Grandad Mann, who spat across the ocean that he ‘saw Germany no longer’, but who is too scared to come. He is right in this point, for I, a dyed-in-the-wool communist, would tan this dirty pig’s hide, just as he deserves it. ‘Base is the nation which in the greatest distress soils itself.’2 The average German can say ‘nation’ twenty times over, he will never be one. Master man or slave, beast of prey or eater of dust. d) Letter from Dr. iur. N.Peters, Allendorf, to Professor Oertel, 27 March 1947 On the occasion of the re-awarding of the honorary doctorate to the writer Thomas Mann it is my wish and likewise my duty to express my thanks to you, and in your honoured person equally to the philosophical faculty of the University of Bonn. I am happy that the university at which I too obtained a doctorate regarded it as its duty to satisfy this debt of gratitude. Source: Paul Egon Hübinger, Thomas Mann, die Universität Bonn und die Zeitgeschichte: Drei Kapitel deutscher Vergangenheit aus dem Leben des Dichters 1905–1955 (Munich, 1974) pp. 596 ff.

Notes 1 2

Thomas Mann’s daughter, writer and actress, married the poet W.H.Auden The original line from Schiller’s play about Joan of Arc reads ‘Nichtswürdig ist die Nation, die nicht ihr alles freudig setzt an ihre Ehre’ (Base is the nation which will not gladly stake its all for its honour)

6.7. STRATEGIES OF SURVIVAL For German prisoners of war, the time spent in captivity could mean very different experiences according to where they had been taken. In general, the worst off were those captured by the Red Army: the Soviet Union kept their PoWs for far longer than any of their Allies, they took them further away from home, and they had neither the resources nor, after what their country had suffered at the hands of Germans, the inclination to make their stay particularly comfortable. At the end of 1947, nine out of ten PoWs released from the Russian zone were found by doctors in the West to be unfit to work; there were numerous occurrences of the ‘homecomer disease’ (Heimkehrerkrankheit) dystrophy, a traumatic personality change caused by lasting malnutrition combined with

Homecomers and refugees

141

high emotional stress; there was the label ‘straitjacket syndrome’ (Zwangsjackensyndrom) for difficulties in settling back into a normal life. Frequently, the problem was one of communication: many ‘homecomers’ found themselves simply unable to talk about their time in the camps, and if they did talk about it, what came over was often just the bare facts or some marginal aspect, while the essential impressions and emotions were repressed. An early example is a report by Adolf Woderich in the Hamburg Theatre Almanac of 1947, entitled ‘Theatre behind barbed wire’; quoted here are the initial passages from this story of a man who was luckier than many others because he found an activity that held its reward in itself.

About the life of the German prisoners of war in the Soviet Union, little is as yet known, and it will certainly take a good while longer, unfortunately, until the prisoners can tell their tale in full, after they have come home. However, some transports from the USSR have already arrived in Germany, bringing mostly people who are ill or unfit to work—and I, too, was one of those. In the present context, I will not dwell on the living and working conditions of the German prisoners, but report about my work at a theatre in a PoW camp, in which there were also Austrians, Hungarians, Romanians, Spaniards, and others. On 10 May 1945, after the surrender, I was taken prisoner by the Russians in Nikoldswalde on the Nehrung1 near Danzig. Our hope to be soon set free to go home, as we had surrendered, was not fulfilled. From the main assembly camp in Braunsberg, I myself and two thousand other able-bodied and healthy comrades were put on a transport. Off to Siberia. Eleven days and nights we travelled in goods wagons, and on 9 June we reached our destination: the town of Asbest, not far from Sverdlovsk in the Ural. Then I worked in the asbestos quarries for nearly eight months, in the woods felling trees and building roads, on the Comintern kolkhoz2 in October, harvesting wheat—the snow was already a foot high—and then as an unskilled bricklayer and concrete mixer driver on the site of a new factory. This at more than thirty degrees below. Then I was—that was Christmas week—so rundown in my health and my physical constitution that my legs were swollen with water as if I had elephantiasis, my heart began to give way, and I was moving on crutches and close to a breakdown. I was taken into hospital, and after my release in February 1946, I became a so-called ‘OK man’, a man without strength.3

Figure 12 A released PoW—43 years old—in the Friedland camp

Homecomers and refugees

143

As such an ‘OK man’, I was put into the main and model camp 84/1, where I was to remain until I had recovered and was fit to work again. In this camp, apart from excellent hospital wards, there was also a theatre building, a so-called club. The German prisoners had built it even while the war was still going on, voluntarily and in addition to their work, sacrificing their nightly sleep for weeks. It was exemplary and unique. Beside a stage of 12 by 10 m, an orchestra pit for about thirty musicians, the sloping auditorium had about 540 seats, numbered camp-stools. A so-called culture committee, consisting of around a hundred prisoners, was in charge of the theatre and the administration. From all the surrounding camps, people with the necessary skills had been gathered over the years. Professional actors and singers of famous German, Austrian and Hungarian theatres and opera houses were working here, supported by about thirty professional musicians led by their conductor, the former first violinist of a famous German symphony orchestra. In this theatre, controlled by Russian officers and commissaries, catering only for prisoners of war, they performed not only dramas, operettas and musicals, but also political sketches as well as big variety shows with cabaret numbers, and revues. At the same time, the auditorium was used for political meetings and the propaganda work of anti-fascist instruction. At this theatre, in the middle of the camp and surrounded by high wooden fences, watchtowers and barbed wire, people worked and achieved results which compared well with any middle-sized theatre of some reputation. As a dramatic adviser, director and author, I was involved in this work. Life had become bearable again for me, had acquired a meaning and rewarding tasks. Source: Paul Möhring (ed.), Hamburger Theater-Almanack 1947 (Hamburg, 1947) pp. 147 f. Notes 1 Spit of land separating a Haff (cf. 6.1.) from the open sea 2 Soviet term for a state-owned agricultural production unit 3 Mann ohne Kraft; hence the German abbreviation OK

6.8. A POTENTIAL FOR TROUBLE The integration of refugees and expellees was a task of considerable dimensions: there was not only the practical problem of housing, clothing, feeding, and finding employment for millions, but also the question whether they would be

144

Germany 1945–1949

accepted by the local population of the rest of Germany and blend in with them, or instead remain a group of dissatisfied aliens. Initially, the outcome was hard to predict, and agitators in the camps that held the people from the East—some of these camps only recently vacated by a different set of inmates— found an attentive audience. While many of those outside saw the Easterners as a threat, a mob of uncivilised beggars, unwashed, speaking bad German, and competing with the locals for the meagre resources left to the country, most of the expellees felt a deep sense of humiliation which could just as easily turn or be turned into resentment and aggression. The following extract from an article by the American journalist Ernest Leiser (born 1921) starts with the description of a rally in the former concentration camp of Dachau near Munich. Leiser had been in Europe since his army service during the war, spending most of his time as a correspondent in Germany; to his American readers, he sets the mood with a sinister scene, evoking the spectre of a Nazi revival and that of communism in the same breath, before he presents some of the underlying facts.

The summer sun pounded down on the bleak and dusty flatlands of Dachau. From the sprawling barracks, where once the inmates of the grimmest murder mill of them all1 had been concentrated, streamed a throng of shabby men and women. As they crossed to the wide square opposite the gray buildings which had housed the gas chamber their faces were intent and angry. They pushed together, squeezing and shoving as close as possible to the platform on which a burning-eyed man of fifty was exhorting them with the controlled rage of a practiced orator. ‘Let them remember’, he shouted in a German which had the thick accent of the Sudetenland,2 that we are German too, that German blood runs fiercely in our veins. Let them not dare longer to treat us as aliens in an alien land. When the might of the Fatherland was marching in triumph, we marched along. Let them care for us now in defeat.’ As the twenty thousand men and women in the square roared approval, the hard-faced speaker waved for silence. ‘We must not let them provoke us to violence,’ he said in a lower, caressing tone of voice. That’s what they want—to break and destroy us.’ ‘Yet I tell you this,’ and again his voice rose to its trained frenzy, ‘When they say to us, “We have no money to care for you,” we must demand that they find money. When they say, “There are no jobs, no homes,” we must reply, “Find jobs, find homes or we will rise in our righteous might.”’ ‘And if’, he shouted, ‘the German treasury cannot provide for our needs, let the Americans take care of us. They are spending

Homecomers and refugees

145

billions in preparing to start the next world war. Let them take that money to feed and clothe us.’ He continued for an hour, ranting on against the German and Occupation authorities. He interspersed his harangue with appeals to ‘remain calm’ so deftly that they only incited the crowd to noisier anger. By the time he had finished, in a screaming crescendo of denunciation, his twenty thousand listeners had turned into an uncontrollable mob. They stormed out of the camp armed with clubs and stones, and before police could quell them they smashed the surrounding area in a fury of vengeful destruction. The man who could stir his auditors to such frenzy is Egon Hermann, the ‘demagogue of Dachau’, something of a man of mystery. He arrived at the former concentration camp in June 1948, having just been expelled, he said, from Prague. Investigation, however, indicated that he and his wife had left Czechoslovakia in 1946 for Russia’s zone of Germany and had been able freely to return to Prague, where he lived and worked intermittently until May 1948. Dynamic and ruthless, Hermann has been called a neo-Nazi and an agent of the Soviets. His own words would offer some justification for both accusations. He admits, with notable pride, that he was a Nazi. He says he is not a Communist but ‘of the Left’, and adds that his ‘political conviction is the colour of my heart’s blood.’ He shouts that ‘the day will come when we shall take what we want.’ Whatever his political colouration, his political ambition is plain. He aspires to be the ‘Führer’ of Germany’s expellees and, through them, perhaps of all Germany. He has been sentenced to a year in prison for inciting his followers in Bavaria to riot, and he has privately compared his sentence to that of Hitler in Landsberg prison.3 ’My sentence is a badge of honour,‘ he has said. Source: Ernest Leiser, ‘Germany’s stepchildren’, in: Arthur Settel (ed.), This is Germany (Freeport: repr., 1971) pp. 196 ff. Notes 1 The superlative is at least arguable if one considers the extermination camps in the East, such as Auschwitz and Majdanek 2 The Nazis’ official name for the northern part of Czechoslovakia incorporated into the Reich by the Munich treaty of 1938 3 After an unsuccessful coup d’état in 1923, Hitler was sentenced to five years’ imprisonment and held in Landsberg in southern Bavaria until 1924 under faifavourable conditions, enabling him to work on his book Mein Kampf (My Struggle)

146

Germany 1945–1949

6.9. ATTEMPTS TO TELL A TALE Among the ‘homecomers’ there were a few who felt that literature was the proper medium for communicating their experience to others. There were some straight autobiographies like Peter Braun’s Denn er wird meinen Fuss aus der Schlinge ziehen (For he will pull my foot from the sling), giving a detailed account of the time he had spent in the USSR, and there were a number of fictional portrayals, with a certain element of autobiography, of the situation of prisoners of war once they had returned. The novel Heimkehr in die Fremde (Coming home to a strange land, 1949) by Walter Hoffmann (born 1908), writing under the pen-name of Walter Kolbenhoff, belongs to this category; its particular interest lies in the highlighting of difficulties in communication, including literature itself. The nameless protagonist, who has been a PoW in the United States, turns to writing in order to preserve and to convey to others his dreams for a better future which had sustained him as a prisoner, dreams which are in danger of being annihilated by the depressing reality around him. The following passage from the novel describes a conversation between the first-person narrator and a former comrade from a PoW camp in the US: the musicologist Dr Rinka, a former fellow-idealist who, of all people, has little time and less sympathy for the protagonist’s literary efforts. After a promising start, the two characters find themselves talking to each other across a great divide, barely making themselves understood to one another: the resulting question is, if people who have shared so much find it so hard to relate to each other, how can they hope to get through to anyone else? However, the fact that this passage appeared in a novel that was finished and printed illustrates the author’s own conclusion of persevering against the odds.

He gave a short laugh and cast his hungry looks over my digs. ‘Great,’ he mumbled mockingly. The abode of the homecoming soldier.’ Then, looking at me with the same mocking expression, he suddenly asked: ‘How do you cope with the loneliness?’ Strangely, I had been expecting his question. I looked at the pile of paper on the table, with my writing on it. I will tell him, I thought, I can tell him, he will understand me. ‘I am writing a book,’ I said. He looked at me doubtfully. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what drove me to it. It took possession of me, and I feel the urge to write everything down. I feel that I have to tell them. I have to explain to them exactly how I live and what I observe, the city and the people who live here, the ruins and the empty expression in the eyes of the former inhabitants when they look around them. I must describe myself, for I am one of hundreds of thousands, I must describe my dreams, my hunger and my yearnings. They may recognise themselves in me, and I must tell them not to despair, tell them that they have to start all over again.’

Homecomers and refugees

147

Doctor Rinka had listened attentively. A weird smile began to show around his mouth. ‘You’d better tell them nothing,’ he said, ‘take my advice. Burn your papers. We are all condemned to die, so what are the big things you want to tell them still?’ I stood up. ‘You are mad—how can you say something like that?’ I asked quietly. ‘Calm down,’ he said. ‘You’re a fool. You want to tell a fairy tale nobody wants to hear. Burn your manuscript, or hang it on your toilet wall. They’re all bearing the mark of Cain on their brow, and you want to tell them to be good again!’ ‘Stop,’ I whispered. ‘No!’ he said. This nation has been condemned to perish. They have been brought up to die, and they will perish. They are already seeing the writing on the wall, and they know what it means.’ He stood up too. He stood close to me and whispered: ‘Don’t you see it? Don’t you see the writing on the wall? We will all perish, and nobody will care about us.’ ‘That’s not true,’ I said with an effort. ‘You’re lying!’—I wanted to say more, but I lacked the words. I looked into his eyes, and an inexplicable fear began to take hold of me. I said again, ‘That’s not true, you’re lying!’ and stood protectively in front of my manuscript. Source: Walter Kolbenhoff, Heimkehr in die Fremde (Munich, 1949) pp. 30 ff.

7

Transport and communication

7.1. A COUNTRY UNDER ARREST Only an absolute minimum in transport and communication was allowed by Allied regulations immediately after the occupation. American troops in Hesse brought with them copies of a printed notice to the civilian population, explaining the restrictions and threatening punishment by military courts for transgressions. The Germans had virtually been imprisoned at home: however, the initial rules for the conduct of civilians were impracticable over a longer period and were soon relaxed all over the occupied territory, even if considerable restraints upon people’s daily lives remained in force for some time. This was partly due to extensive war damages—for instance, only about ten per cent of the railways had remained intact or at least passable until the end of the war— and partly due to Allied fears of organised Nazi resistance in spite of the unconditional surrender and the death of the Führer. The document quoted here proves that the Americans had thought of almost everything that could have served such activities, including pet pigeons.

To the civilian population! 1 A Military Government has been established, whose laws and regulations must be followed exactly in every detail. 2 Every act of violence or attempted violence against the American forces or every act of violence against the regulations in this notice by civilians will be severely punished. 3 Civilians must not leave their houses between—and—(local time). 4 A total black-out must be strictly observed between 30 minutes after sunset and 30 minutes before sunrise. 5 In the territory of the American army it is forbidden to go any further than 6 km from one’s home or one’s place of residence without the permission of the Military Government. The freedom of movement can be restricted by the local Military Governor to 148

Transport and communication

149

less than 6 km, or be denied completely. There are the following local restrictions: ________________ 6 Railways, private cars, bicycles and private motor-bikes must not be used without special permission. The use of local public transport is allowed. 7 Gatherings of more than five people in public or in private houses for the purpose of dicusssion are forbidden. The holding of church services is allowed. Public entertainment is only allowed with the permission of the Military Government. Gatherings in front of offices issuing food coupons must disperse at once, if any unrest occurs. 8 Radio transmitters as well as any other means of transmission, firearms and other war materials as well as ammunition and explosives must be handed in to the military authorities. It is illegal to hold such things or to have access to them. Only the police may carry hand-held weapons1 and ammunition with a permit issued by the military authorities, in order to keep up law and order. 9 All cameras as well as binoculars will be handed in to the military authorities. 10 It is forbidden to release pigeons. They must either be killed, or have their wings cut back. 11 Any communication such as by mail, telephone, telegraph or radio will be stopped at once. 12 Uncensored newspapers, other publications and posters of any kind must neither be printed, distributed or displayed. Source: Wolf-Arno Kropat (ed.), Hessen in der Stunde Null 1945/1947: Politik, Wirtschaft und Bildungswesen in Dokumenten (Wiesbaden, 1979) pp. 13 f.

Note 1

Small firearms had been a standard part of police equipment in Germany for some time; the requirement of a special permit to carry arms was abolished again after Control Council Directive No. 16 of 6 November 1945

7.2. COMMUNICATION BY MAIL Germans who wanted to keep in touch with one another over a distance found that the clocks had been turned back in 1945: they were no longer part of a modern nation with easy, cheap and unrestricted communication for all. Of course some communications, for instance those of people suspected of subversion against the regime, had not been unaffected before 1945, but for most people, Allied regulations brought more palpable changes. Their

150

Germany 1945–1949

restrictions were clearly governed more by an exaggerated fear of conspiracy and sabotage than by practical problems with transport, machinery, or staff. According to the British military government notice concerning the postal services of 1 July 1945, for instance, private communications—in Latin script, and limited to the space on the back of a postcard, with letters being reserved for official and business use—were not allowed to contain any messages from persons other than the sender, nor ‘verbatim confirmations of postal, cable, radio, telephone or telegraph communications’; even chess problems or music manuscripts were excluded from the mail because they could contain code. Naturally, lots of letters and cards were posted that did not conform to the regulations, which could make the job of the post offices pretty difficult. The letter quoted here, dated 5 September 1945, is from the postmaster of a suburban district of Hamburg to the head office in the city, asking for advice and a certain relaxation of the rules. The author, Postamtmann Handt, occupied the position of Amtsvorsteher (Head of Office) from 1938 to the end of 1945: there is no record of a reply in writing, but a brief note of a telephone call received in response to his letter.

Every day, hundreds of letters are collected from letterboxes in the streets which do not correspond to the regulations issued by the Military Government. The following faults are found: 1 There is no indication of language,1 which on letters may only be written down by the sender. 2 There are postcards where the front is also used for written messages. 3 There is a large number of picture postcards.2 4 In many cases, Gothic script is used. 5 There is no indication of sender. 6 There is a large number of letters brought in privately from other zones, most often unfranked, partly also carrying Russian zone stamps, and frequently without indication of sender. According to the strict regulations of the Military Government, all these communications must be excluded from further transport. The additional work thus caused is an enormous hindrance to operations. a) The delivery workers have to take the communications back to the senders, where inevitable discussions cause delay. b) Those senders not resident in postal district 13 must be given back their communications by way of the post offices responsible for deliveries to them. The way up to now is via Hamburg I.3

Transport and communication

151

c) Those letters from senders outside Hamburg, including communications from nearly all areas of Germany, ought to be directed back as well. This however, is only possible within the area of British occupation. Communications from the other areas must be regarded as undeliverable, even though the transport to their destination and the delivery to the addressee would in fact be possible. That the post offices which pass on mail from other British Military districts look on some faults with a certain lenience, can be seen daily and frequently when the mail arrives. Seemingly, the censors do not apply the rules strictly everywhere. Maybe there already are relaxations elsewhere. Would not a relaxation of the rules be possible, so that at least the communications without indication of sender would not disappear but still be delivered to the addressee, with a warning notice (sticker)? Furthermore, is it legal for the post office to transport letters from outside the British zone of occupation in Germany, mailed in local letterboxes here? Up to now, as far as they appeared to conform to the censorship regulations in force, we have been treating them as unfranked communications, and passed them on, taking the corresponding charges. At the moment, there is no possibility of sending the communications from other areas back to the senders. It seems necessary to comment on the questions raised here, and if possible, to take steps to ease the situation. Source: Postgeschichtliche Blätter Hamburg 25 (1982) pp. 131 f.

Notes 1 2 3

Only German and English were allowed, and letters had to carry the information which language they were in on the envelope, to facilitate the censors’ work They were not illegal as such, but their users would have to violate the rule that only the backs of postcards were to be used for writing messages Hamburg head post office

7.3. SUFFERING COMMUTERS The fact that public and private transport were severely restricted had more than the obvious economic consequences for post-war society. Isolated communities became more isolated, and even within and around the centres of population, lifestyles changed, especially for those who depended on public

152

Germany 1945–1949

means of transport to go about their daily business. Journeys that had been merely a matter of routine took on the character of major expeditions, which was especially frustrating for commuters living outside the major cities. One of them was the writer Hermann Kasack, resident in Potsdam just outside Berlin in the Soviet zone of occupation, and chief editor for the well-known publisher Peter Suhrkamp, whose offices were in the Western sectors of Berlin. In a letter of 18 November 1945 to fellow-author Hans-Erich Nossack (see 5.2.), who had been complaining about the situation in Hamburg and contemplating a move to Berlin, Kasack does his best to put his correspondent off the idea that life in and around the former capital is any easier or any further ahead on the way back to normality.

As the weather makes it very difficult to ride a bicycle, and as it is quite a long walk if you want to take the steamboat, and staying ‘on deck’ in these conditions is not much fun either, the journey to Berlin goes as follows: if you don’t want to get up at 5 to travel at 6 a.m., you stand on the draughty platform at Charlottenhof at 10 a.m., wait for an hour and a half for the suburban train from Werder which, because there is only a single track, has to wait for an oncoming goods train to pass first; then you climb on to a seat in an old passenger carriage which has neither any windows nor any doors at the front or at the back. Of course you travel third class, because in those two carriages which quite clearly bear the sign ‘II Class’, there isn’t anywhere to sit at all, all that’s left being a very low wooden frame, while the upholstered seat and back-rest have been ‘organised away’.1 The train advances by stops through to Wannsee in another one and a half hours—because it stops frequently on the ‘open’ track (the trip used to take 17 minutes): it also stops at stations, e.g. at Babelsberg, where people climb on board or off, not from or to the platform, but from the wooden sleepers of the second track that used to exist alongside; or in Ufastadt,2 where recently a quarter of a metre was chopped off the platform—it looks like it’s been nibbled off—because some engine or some carriage had too wide a load, and space to let it pass had to be created in this simple manner. Each time the train stops on the track you feel a certain sceptical expectation: you are not sure if the scenery of a wild west picture will develop before you, or the engine will stay connected to the train. From Wannsee, finally, everything goes smoothly, even if the S-Bahn3 short-distance trains, most often without windows, are overcrowded. Admittedly, there is a plan (a plan only) to continue the S-Bahn track through to Pdm,4 i.e.

Figure 13 Berliners crowd a tram bound for the suburbs on a ‘Hamster’ mission, bartering for food

154

Germany 1945–1949

with two trains going backwards and forwards up to the destroyed bridge across the Teltow canal, but although I read it in the paper, I have not seen any sign of an effort to at least lay one track of the dismantled rails again.—Thus, I only get to see S.5 every ten days. Source: Bernhard Zeller (ed.), Als der Krieg zu Ende war: Literarisch-politische Publizistik 1945–1950, von Gerhard Hay, Hartmut Rambaldo und Joachim W. Storck. Eine Ausstellung des deutschen Literaturarchivs, Marbach 1973 (Munich, 1973) p. 127

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

‘Organise’ was a popular euphemism for ‘steal’ ‘Ufa town’, the Ufa (Universum-Film Aktiengesellschaft) was the biggest film company in Germany; from 1942 the official umbrella organisation of the national film industry ‘Stadtbahn’, city railway Potsdam Peter Suhrkamp

7.4. GETTING THE WHEELS TO ROLL AGAIN The phrase ‘Räder rotten für den Sieg’ (Wheels are rolling for victory) had been a Nazi slogan during the war, designed to head off criticism of the absolute priority given to military over civilian transport. There was plenty of evidence to support the view that it was ultimately for strategical reasons that the Nazi regime had put such an emphasis on mass mobility, with programmes ranging from the building of motorways to the building of the cheap Volkswagen (the people’s car), and ventures in organised tourism under the heading of Kraft durch Freude (Strength through joy). However, the pre-military mobilisation of the German people had been of considerable propagandistic value not only by the virtue of by-products such as the effect on unemployment figures, but also through the intrinsic appeal of the concept. Mobile people were potentially happier people: and vice versa, lack of mobility would contribute to a general mood of dissatisfaction. The Allies thus had more than one good reason to put the restoration of transport among their top priorities; in 1945, however, they found it difficult to make even the most vital commercial traffic possible. Major General Gerald Walter Robert Templer (born 1898), Vice Governor of the British zone of occupation, devotes a large part of his address to the heads of the German administration on 19 November 1945 in Detmold to transport problems, clarifying his view of the matter.

Every attempt is being made to repair locos and wagons, and the necessary industrial plants are being re-activated. Re-activation and

Transport and communication

155

operation of these plants and manufacture of steel requires coal, and there is not enough coal to meet all requirements so that the re-activation of these plants is slow and must be considered alongside other essential industries. Since the limiting factor on the distribution of all essential commodities is transport, and particularly rail transport, the essential personnel needs of the Reichsbahn1 are being carefully watched and fulfilled. Reichsbahn personnel are exempt from the policy of putting able-bodied male personnel into the mines. The houses of Reichsbahn personnel should be given priority of repair. The question of additional food and clothing for Reichsbahn personnel is under active consideration, and it is hoped that extra rations from railway canteens can be made available for outside workers of the Reichsbahn. Clothing and hutting have been provided for German engineers who are working on the reconstruction of the Rhine bridges, and it is hoped to provide extra rations for outside workers who are engaged on canal and port reconstruction. At present the turn-round of wagons is from nine to ten days. This is double the pre-war wagon turn-round of the Reichsbahn. This must be improved so as to get a greater dividend from our limited supply of wagons. Much can be done in speeding up loading and discharge of wagons. This must be done seven days in the week—only by a constant watch on the wagon turn-round and by continuous effort on the part of all concerned can we provide the resources necessary to move the commodities essential for economic existence through the winter. Military Government have laid down for the guidance of all concerned the priorities of traffic which may be loaded in the British zone. The first priority is military traffic, which is a small proportion, and equal with that are those commodities which Military Government require to take precedence over all other classes of civil traffic. The subsequent priorities are foodstuffs, pitwood, coal, oil, raw materials for steel, mining supplies, miners’ clothing and so on. To ensure that these priorities are observed, special Screening Committees have been set up in the Reichsbahndirektionen2 and similar committees have been set up to deal with traffic by barge and coastal shipping. Only essential traffic can be handled. Source: Akten zur Vorgeschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1945–1949.

156

Germany 1945–1949

Band 1: September 1945–Dezember 1946, bearbeitet von Walter Vogel und Christoph Weisz (Munich, 1976) pp. 154 f.

Notes 1 2

The German state railway, established in 1920 Regional administrative units of the Reichsbahn

7.5. BEFORE THE MOVE: THE QUEUE To get on the road in a car, a van or a lorry in 1945 sometimes required a good deal of patience, as well as a plausible story to convince the staff at one of the motor pools that the intended journey was absolutely necessary for the common welfare. These pools (Fahrbereitschaften) had the unenviable task of assessing the comparative urgency of the requests they received, in order to deploy such vehicles, fuel and spare parts as they had at their disposal, to the greatest possible advantage. An article from the newspaperWiesbadener Kurier of 12 December 1945 describes a day in the life of such an institution, with a high degree of sympathy for the efforts of the administration. Apart from a brief reference to destruction ‘through the war’, the report blames nobody for anything, and admonishes his readers that only the ‘wilfully unreasonable’ would fail to see that ‘everything takes its time’. The author concludes on a note of cautious optimism, stating that when requests granted would outnumber those refused by motor pools, people would know ‘that times have got better.’ It is remarkable, however, that in spite of his statement that the real proportion at the time of the report is unfavourable, three of the four cases described in the first part of the article which is quoted here, have a happy ending.

Outside the office of the head of the motor pool in Bahnhofstrasse, four men are waiting: the owner of a dairy, a haulage contractor, a wholesale dealer and a taxi driver. The first one urgently wants a lorry, the second one more urgently a travel order, the third one most urgently a store-room, and the fourth one with the utmost urgency a tyre. Each one is in a hurry. But they have to wait patiently until they are admitted, for the chief of staff, Herr Alfter, is very busy. He is just negotiating with a man who simply refuses to see that vehicles cannot be conjured up at will. This man is a farmer from a remote little village in the Taunus.1 He has been to the motor pool eight times already, to ask them to get him a lorry for carrying agricultural products. But each time his request had to be put off until a later date. Today, he has come for the ninth time, and talks to the chief of staff himself. But in spite of his sympathy for the man’s situation, even the boss cannot help him.

Transport and communication

157

As long as the automobile manufacturers have not resumed the full-scale production of new cars,2 vehicles can only be released in the most urgent cases. This is why the farmer from the Taunus must keep carrying his agricultural products to Wiesbaden in a horse-drawn cart, as before. However, the dairy owner, whose turn it is now, is really in need of a motor vehicle. He came back from a PoW camp a while ago, rebuilt his company with great initiative, and now needs a lorry for the daily transport of milk. His request is granted, as his trips are without any doubt vital. The transport of milk from the country into town—that is a must. The haulage contractor has been hired by a local company to pick up a big mixing machine in Munich. He needs a travel order, for all journeys over 150 km have to be authorised. As the company for which he is to do the driving produces important drugs, the travel order is issued to him. The wholesale dealer can be satisfied, too. He needs a suitable room to store goods he has bought recently. The goods are sensitive to moisture and so they have to be in dry storage. But where? He is told of a dry room where he can store his goods without any risks. Gratefully he leaves the office, and right after him enters the taxi driver who applies for a new tyre for the right front wheel of his car. He drives for the occupation authorities. There is no doubt that his application will be granted. Then it’s the next person’s turn, and so on and so on. Granted, refused, granted, refused, but most often refused. Source: ‘“Ich brauche dringend einen Lastwagen”’, in: Werner Wolf (ed.), Trummer, Tränen, Zuversicht: Alltag in Hessen 1945–1949. Herausgegeben von Werner Wolf unter Mitarbeit von Harald Edel (Frankfurt/Main, 1986) pp. 255 f.

Notes 1 2

Range of hills northwest of Frankfurt/Main Opel, for instance, did not turn out their first post-war lorry until July 1946, Mercedes produced just over 400 ‘170V cars in 1947, and even the annual production figures of the Volkswagen remained below 10,000 until 1948

7.6. TRAVELLERS’ TALK In the post-war period, trains and railway stations were of particular importance as locations for the transfer of goods and people as well as of news, views, and rumours. There were stories to tell, and useful information to be gathered which other channels did not provide: there were also interpretations of contemporary

Figure 14 ‘Wheels must roll for victory’ had been a Nazi propaganda slogan; the reality proved to be different

Transport and communication

159

events to be swapped and mutually confirmed. This was essential for the establishment of a new reference grid to replace the old system where people were either for or against, or somewhere in between in relation to one official set of values; from 1945 onwards, the situation had become much more complicated, and people had to redefine their own position and role in a confusingly complex world. This made simplified explanations of the new reality all the more attractive, and made the more astute observers of their times all the more prone to frustration at such standardised opinions which they could not escape hearing in public places. Hans Werner Richter (born 1908), coeditor of the magazine Der Ruf (The call), subtitled ‘Independent journal of the young generation’, describes his impressions of conversations overheard during journeys on the railway in the article quoted below. Der Ruf had been founded in American PoW camps and established in Germany by the US military government, which withdrew the licence from its editors in April 1947, offended by the frank and irreverent criticism their magazine meted out in all directions.

The railway track which runs through a country in all directions is the lifeline of a people. Alongside it and on it there are a reflections of the spirit of a people, its mentality, its inward and outward worries, its fear and its hopes. Thousands of conversations are held by its side, between people who have never seen each other and will never see each other again. The conversations arise and die down, they come and go, day in, day out; and still they all contain a piece of the truth which is contained in the drabness of everyday life. Wherever a nation goes on a journey, the face of the times becomes visible. And today a nation is on a journey. It travels from north to south, from east to west and from west to east. It is partly homeless, populating the stations and trains. It is leading a life by the railway track. In a thousand conversations it tries to prove its right to exist, in a thousand talks it strays on the ways of the past and looks for the hope of tomorrow. It is always moved by the same topics, the lost war, the zonal boundaries, the German girls, the denazification, the supposed democracy, and the hopeless future. The supposed democracy

When talking about democracy, they use the word like orange peel sucked clean. They equate it with everything which in their opinion is incompetent. For them, democracy equals defeat, hunger, poverty, corruption and bureaucratism. If the train compartment has no windows, if the toilet is too crowded, if the train arrives late, then they say: ‘See, this is democracy’. A new order of the military government, the cutting of fat rations, the

160

Germany 1945–1949

registration form, the identity card, the queues, all these are in their eyes essential features of democracy. They say: ‘What a cheek. The Nazis could not have done any better either. But now we have a democracy, anyway.’ They are permanently engaged in historical comparisons. ‘In the old days,’ they said, ‘yes, in the old days travelling was a completely different thing. What a wonderful time that was. Well, today you simply travel democratically.’ They regard political events not from the bird’s eye perspective of beautiful theory, but according to the facts of their everyday lives. As they have been told they are living in a democracy, they say: ‘The hunger, the shortage of fat, the bureaucratism, the corruption—this is democracy.’ Up and down the country, by all railway tracks and in all train compartments the same conversations are held and the same phrases are uttered: ‘Now we are democrats—now we can starve.’ This is the outcome of mistaking one thing for another, or of a wrong kind of propaganda. Source: Hans Werner Richter, ‘Unterhaltungen am Schienenstrang’, Der Ruf 1/ 4 (1946) pp. 6 f.

7.7. CONDUCTORS AT THE CROSSROADS To begin with, the Allied occupying forces acted also as traffic police in many places (cf. 1.8.), exhibiting a variety of styles which reflected differences in individual as well as national temperament. An article from the periodical Münchner Tagebuch (Munich Diary) by Hanns Braun (journalist Johann Gottlieb Dietrich, born 1910)—featured in a 1950 collection of material published in 1946/7—shows no resentment against what could be perceived as a hateful symbol of the Allies’ complete control and the Germans’ complete incapacitation. On the contrary, the author finds the mannerisms of the American Military Police admirable, and the attempts of German policemen returning to their old jobs to imitate the relaxed showmanship of their temporary replacements laudable. The tone of the article is representative of a kind of post-war journalism that took a light-hearted look at the bright side of life, as well as of a tendency to glorify all things American; however, there is also an element of seriousness in the question raised about the German character on account of the observation of a trend towards a return to a more traditional kind of body language.

So there they stood, amidst the swell which all around them sent its roaring waves higher than a man’s head from four directions: the varnished helmet slightly askew on their heads, white gloves

Transport and communication

161

on their hands, and they conducted. Apart from the fact that they had no rostrum under their feet, they really resembled bandmasters. It looked as if they were silencing the impudent brass with their left hand, while ‘tickling forward’ the string section waving the bent index and middle finger of the right. The string section? Well: the motorised passers-by, of course, from jeeps to Goliaths towing tanks. But even that apart, the comparison is not all that far-fetched. Because the traffic, even as it took on a more civilian character later, was to its wiry wire-pullers obviously never for a single moment a mechanical thing, to be treated—similia similibus1 in a mechanical way. On the contrary, they seemed to perceive it as the ever-changing Broadway melody of the city, only to be done justice by passionate dedication and complete mastery of the score. Not that they danced outright to the restrained beat of explosions. But something in their posture, so ‘un-smart’, more relaxed, yet intense, met our expectation that maybe any moment they would start to dance. As calm as the legs (lazy in the hips) stood on the pavement— the arms, incredibly long and very agile, were on their way to dancing already. What was distinctive and fascinating for us, was in fact that they waved to give way and direction to every individual driver, and that in a way which favoured vehicles going in one direction or another, according to a lightning assessment of distances. A virtuoso performance, musical with a sporting element. As such it was delivered, and as such it was also perceived by spectators and expert road users. The result: the traffic could increase as it would, it was not only tamed. It also kept moving! As later on, by and by, German traffic police took over this task again, it was fairly plain to see that they had taken a lesson from those ‘traffic ball players’. They pulled individual drivers close, they muted, they guided them past. Some were already quite good at it. Others found it harder. But on the whole the impression remained that this masterful style was not the Germans’ cup of tea, used as they were to the military exercise code. The hope that they would soon develop a taste for it was however not dead yet. Of late, it is looking a bit like it, here and there, unfortunately. Where traffic lights—as on Marienplatz or Odeonsplatz, at the Ludwigsbrücke—are in use again, the mechanical stops and monotonous changes are inevitable. But unfortunately, even where the traffic controller has not become a mere operator of an indifferent machine but makes his decisions independently, we can occasionally see a slackening, an

162

Germany 1945–1949

increasing relapse towards the former mechanical-totalitarian regiementation. Source: Hans Joachim Sperr (ed.), Die Kameltränke: Ein Almanack des Münchner Tagebuchs in fünf Kapiteln (Munich, 1950) pp. 11 f.

Note 1

Like to like

7.8. THE NEW FRONTIERS Crossing the border from one zone into another was not always easy for the inhabitants of occupied Germany, and in spite of Churchill’s somewhat anticipatory invention of the ‘Iron Curtain’ metaphor, the difference between the Soviet zone and those under Western occupation could appear rather smaller than it was made out to be, in terms of the practicalities of travelling. A report by Alfred Andersch (born 1914) in Der Ruf (see 7.6.) describes a fact-finding mission in 1947 which takes the co-editor of the Munich-based magazine to the Ruhr via Frankfurt and part of the French zone, for which purpose he either needs to travel in a train with sealed carriages or, having missed that one, with a transit visa issued by the French authorities. Andersch strikes a bargain with a conductor, mellowed by the offer of an American cigarette, who promises to smuggle him through to his destination. Andersch’s account of the journey reflects a sense of indignation at the fact that his passage is being made so difficult by Allied regulations, and at the role of the German police as faithful agents of French authorities: the term ‘collaborators’ is avoided, but the author leaves no doubt that this is what he means. Andersch, like his colleague Hans Werner Richter, a former communist converted to a kind of humanitarian socialist philosophy, became well-known as a novelist with such books as Sansibar, oder der letzte Grund (Zanzibar, or the final reason, 1957) or Ephraim (1967).

Outside, the Rhine was flowing, huge and silvery grey. In the Rheingau,1 the old vintners’ estates rested sedately in the cultivated vineyards. On the opposite bank, the poplars were finely drawn into the moist-dark sky. But the opposite bank seemed miles away. The great river of the Western world is a dividing line today, instead of a connection. It separates the Germans from one another. And by separating the Germans, it is separating Europe. On its banks, there are still the great monuments of medieval history. In its bed lie the sunken ships. Funnels and masts rise out of the water defiantly. But it is already busy again with traffic. One sees ships with the French, the American, the Dutch, the Swiss flag. The German flag is not among them. There is no German flag any more.

Transport and communication

163

Just before Linz, the French control post, the conductor locks me into the toilet. It is dark and dirty in there. The train stops. After a while, voices can be heard. ‘Open the suitcase!’ A heated exchange of words. Then the disputing parties move away again. The minutes go by. At last, the whistle signals departure. The engine pulls away again. The conductor unlocks the door again, and we laugh furtively. I look out of the window. On the platform stands a small group of people watching the train leave. The German ‘border’ police had taken them off. Because they had no documents, they have to pay a hundred Marks now, and may only travel on when the next train comes. Because in order to travel from Koblenz to Cologne, a German needs documents today. German police sees to that. No Frenchman shows his face in the process. Because the French know very well that the Germans will do the job perfectly. That the Germans still obey any order given to them. That the Germans will never learn from history. Source: ‘Der richtige Nährboden für die Demokratie’, in: Der Ruf 11/15 (1947) p.6

Note 1

Wine-growing area on the right bank of the Rhine between Wiesbaden and Assmanshausen

7.9. RECONNECTING TO THE WORLD After the bi-zonal fusion, communications within the combined area of the American and British zones as well as with other countries improved considerably, in accordance with the policy of integration of the Western part of Germany into the emerging Western bloc (see the list of countries in the second paragraph). The monthly report of the Office of the US Military Governor (OMGUS, see 3.4.) of May 1948 lists an increase in telecommunications which looks more impressive than the achievements in other areas, and maybe also more impressive than the figures appear in relation to the total population of the Combined Economic Area. The times when the telephone became a natural and readily available means of communication for the vast majority of citizens were still ahead: the number of telephone calls in April 1948 was still only half the figure of letters sent during the same period, and it must be kept in mind that a high proportion of the 157 million calls would have been due to official and business use of the telephone system.

Direct radiotelephone service to Brazil from the Reichspost station in Hamburg was opened on 15 May. Agreements have been made

164

Germany 1945–1949

with two separate companies, Companhia Radio Telegraphica Brasileira and Companhia Radio Internacional do Brasil, for the operation of the Brazilian terminals at Rio de Janeiro. Negotiations are in progress for the reopening of direct radio telecommunications service with Argentina and with Portugal. Effective 18 May, a public radiotelegraph service was officially reopened between ships at sea and telegraph offices in the Combined Zones and in the French Zone. The German coastal stations are also handling telegraph traffic between ships at sea and Belgium, Denmark, Eire, Finland, France, Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Greece, the Netherlands, Italy, Luxembourg, Norway, Poland, Sweden, Switzerland, and all extra-European countries with which telegraphic communication is available. The ships that may participate in this service are those controlled by U.S., British, and French occupation authorities, ships of private undertakings with which direct settlement of accounts may be effected, and ships for which accounts can be cleared through national telegraph administrations. The number of subscriber lines in the telephone system in the Bizonal Area reached 960,000 in April, bringing the increase over the past year to 126,000. The total number of telephone calls made in the Bizonal Area in April reached a new peak of 157 million calls, or a 5 per cent increase over March and 20 per cent higher than in April 1947. The number of international telephone calls handled increased to 72,000 in April 1948, as compared with 64,000 in March 1948 and 55,000 in February 1948. The volume of telegraph traffic in April was higher than in any previous month on record. A total of 3,570,000 messages was originated in the Bizonal Area, representing an increase of 31,000 messages over the previous month and 644,000 more than in April 1947. Approximately 128,000 international telegrams were sent and received in the Bizonal Area in April, a substantial increase over the 95,000 and the 77,000 handled in March and February, respectively. Source: Office of Military Government US, Monthly report of the Military Governor 35 (May 1948) p. 53

8

The press

8.1. AN EARLY START The first Allied newspapers for Germans appeared during the later stages of the war. In the West, the Psychological Warfare Division at the Allied Headquarters published the Frontpost, aimed at German soldiers and distributed by means of leaflet bombs behind the front lines from August 1944; in the occupied territory, the Aachener Nachrichten (Aachen News) was the first paper edited by Germans under Allied control in January 1945. In the East, the Soviet Tägliche Rundschau (Daily Review) appeared in May 1945, and after the Order No. 2 issued by the Soviet Military Administration in Germany permitted the establishment of political parties, these were also licensed to publish their own newspapers. The Guidelines of the Politbureau of the Central Committee of the Communist Party (KPD) of 5 April 1945 outline the role of the press as envisaged by those who aimed at complete re-education from a Marxist point of view, which has to be seen in a different framework from similar attempts in the West. According to dialectical materialism, a fundamental change in the economic basis of society was a precondition to the ultimate destruction of fascism; yet the following document shows that the psychological influence of the press on the development of post-war society as well as its value as a propaganda weapon during the war was by no means under-rated. Tasks for the entire territory occupied by the Red Army

To publish an anti-fascist German newspaper under the name Deutsche Volkszeitung.1 This paper will be the official organ of municipal and village administrations in the occupied territory. The paper will be first produced in one of the larger towns, such as Dresden or Cottbus. To begin with, there will be three editions a week, later a daily edition of four to six pages. Content of the paper: as long as hostilities continue, the content of the paper has to be directed 165

166

Germany 1945–1949

predominantly towards influencing the Hitler armies, and the population of the Hitler territory. The description of life in the occupied cities will encourage the mood of capitulation in the Hitler army. The paper is to move the population of occupied German territory to take up the initiative to master the crisis, that is to say to restore order, secure the bare essentials of nutrition, shelter the homeless, restore public utilities, and provide an emergency transport service. To convince the population that the measures taken by the local commander of the Red Army and the local administration are in their interest. The population is to receive an explanation for the cause of the catastrophe, Germany’s responsibility for the war, the crimes of the Nazi system, and the share of responsibility borne by the German people. The masses are to be educated to hate Nazism, militarism, and reaction; to help with the institutional, political, and moral destruction of Nazism and militarism. The population is to be convinced that the destruction of Nazism is in the vital interest of the German people, and because of this all Germans must help to search and destroy war criminals, fascist terrorists, provocateurs, and saboteurs. The paper is to provide a platform for the anti-fascist, progressive forces, in order to create a unity of progressive forces from all groups of the working population, of communists, social democrats, bourgeois democrats, and Christians, on a new, anti-fascist basis. The paper is to educate the population in the spirit of peaceful co-operation and friendship between the people of different countries, especially with the Soviet Union. Source: G.A.Below et al. (eds), Um ein antifaschistisch-demokratisches Deutschland: Dokumente aus den Jahren 1945–1949 (Berlin/GDR, 1968) pp. 5 f.

Note 1

Literally, the German people’s newspaper

8.2. LOOKING FOR A NEW LANGUAGE The newspapers licensed by the Allies could be fairly certain of a readership in a country whose citizens were hungry for reliable information. There was virtually no competition for the licensed papers, which could have easily sold more than the relatively few and slim editions which paper shortages allowed them to print, especially because many radio sets had been lost or destroyed during the war or confiscated after the occupation, and post-war broadcasting was still in its infancy, too. A greater problem for the new press was to win the confidence of its readers

The press

167

after a long exposure to Nazi propaganda: they could not claim complete independence, and had to convince the public by practising a kind of journalism that was frank and truthful under the difficult conditions imposed by Allied controls, even after precensorship was abandoned. The best way to do this was to talk in a language fundamentally different from what had gone before, the ‘harsh language of fact’, as it is called in the leader from the first issue of Die Zeit quoted below. Die Zeit appeared in the British zone, taking its name from the London Times whose example it meant to follow, although the article disclaims aspirations to a similar ‘position of excellence’ on the grounds of the ‘modest means’ available to the Hamburg newspapermen. The second piece from the same page with its highly metaphorical portrayal of the German predicament presents a striking contrast to the motto proclaimed in the leader. a) Our task

‘It is our aim, after twelve years of Nazi domination and Nazi propaganda,to re-create a free press in Germany. This action is one of the first steps in this direction. With the exception of the trade unions’ monthly journal, Die Zeit is the first newspaper published in Hamburg to receive a licence.’ With these words, Brigadier Armytage handed over the licence to the four founders of the new-born weekly paper which we are presenting to the public today. A free press! With these fateful words, he bestowed upon us a great privilege, and an even greater task. Those years which lie behind us, especially the six war years, have isolated the German reader from the world, shrouded him in the mist of propaganda, and thus made him unaccustomed to the harsh language of fact. Wishful images or distorting imaginations inspired by hatred have come to rule many minds. The important thing today is not only to clear the streets in the bombed-out cities of debris, but also to clear the minds of the burden of an era which has gone under; and this can only happen if we have the courage to tell the truth without any euphemisms, even if this truth hurts, which unfortunately it often will. Only in an atmosphere of incorruptible truthfulness can trust grow. b) Drift ice

Fifteen million people are roaming through Germany, or have found no more than a poor temporary shelter; refugees from the cities smashed by bombs, from the regions1 devastated by war, from other zones of occupation, or people expelled from neighbouring countries. This is nearly a quarter of the entire German population. But is it a different story for those who still sit on their native soil? Have they not also been uprooted, torn from the ground

168

Germany 1945–1949

formed by tradition, past, upbringing, and habit; the ground from which they formerly drew their strength? As tragic as the senseless destruction of economic assets is the collapse of moral values. In the midst of destitution, hunger, and cold, we are looking around for a spiritual support, a secure ground on which we can stand, on which we can again find a firm footing. To our horror we sense how the foundations we are relying on have come adrift. The most stirring effect of this double collapse, the outward and the inward, is on those who are most readily willing to believe, to trust, and to hope: the young. The old values of earlier decades they no longer got to know, and what they learned later was blown away by the storm. What shall they build on? Nevertheless, they carry within them the firm trust that they are not drifting towards chaos, but to new shores. But how much longer is this going to last? How many of them will on the way fall prey to those elements which are greedily reaching out for them from the void? Source: Die Zeit 1/1 (21 February 1947) p. 1

Note 1

The word in the original is Gaue, a geographical term that came to be loaded with Nazi connotations as well as Scholle (soil) and Boden (ground), also used in this article

8.3. CHANGING TYPEFACES As modest as the beginnings of the post-war press was the re-emergence of the printing industry, which found itself severely affected by the changes introduced in 1945. The vast majority of national and local newspapers had belonged to the Nazi press trust, and very few of their printing presses went back into action as quickly as those of the NSDAP’s own Völkischer Beobachter (National Observer), used by the staff under the Austro-Hungarian emigrant and American officer Hans Habe to produce a new type of paper which was to have little in common with its infamous predecessor. While the journalists were trying to shed the linguistic ballast of the Third Reich, the typesetters too had to learn a new code of communication: newspapers, magazines, leaflets, posters and other products—always assuming that permission to print was given and paper to print on was available—were to look different. The following article from the second issue of the trade journal Der Druckspiegel (The Printing Mirror) expresses the industry’s hope of a press revival, and its willingness to forswear

The press

169

the vulgarity of monstrous headlines which it describes as the characteristic of page lay-outs during the Nazi era. This must be talked about,

although the subject does not really come within the scope of Der Druckspiegel. But it should not be forgotten that among the readers of this new magazine, there are many people who, because of their earlier position as publishers, directors or employees of publishing companies, take a strong interest in the development of the new press, and have been looking for conclusive information for many months. The German press before the war consisted of over 2,500 daily papers. If one considers that up to now there are hardly 100 to 200 dailies in the whole of Germany, it is easy to guess the amount of hopes concerning the press which members of the printing industry are at present entertaining. The future development

of the press influences our industry to a high degree. The victorious powers have the best intentions to help the German people regain a free, big, extensive press. It is not boldness to assume even today that, by and large, we shall have our press again in its former extent, i.e. every middle-sized and larger town will get its own local paper again. Naturally, this development will take its time. Even in a purely material sense (paper, printing presses), there are great difficulties to cope with. Until paper production permits a return to the daily appearance of newspapers, a long time is yet to pass. Which tasks is the printing industry faced with?

In rebuilding the German press, the printing industry faces a whole range of technical problems. The main thing is to shed the market criers’ approach which was characteristic of the NS1 press, and to show better taste even at the level of typesetting. The new papers should have a fundamentally new garment, from headlines down to small advertisements. For a typesetter who takes pride in his work, there are lots of opportunities for new design here. We have to come up with better results in newspaper typesetting. The press of the Third Reich was, with some minor exceptions, not exemplary in this respect. The best comparison offered today is in the contrast between the former central organ of the NSDAP,2 the Völkischer Beobachter, and the Neue Zeitung,3 the paper of the American occupying forces for the American zone, which is printed in the same format as the Völkischer Beobachter previously, on the same machines as before.

170

Germany 1945–1949

A comparison between these two papers shows clearly how little ability the publishers of the Völkischer Beobachter had, in spite of all their former riches, of the abundance of financial and other resources, to turn the large format newspaper into one with a corresponding level of typesetting and printing. Source: Neues Beginnen im Zeitungswesen und Zeitungsdruck’, Der Druckspiegel 1/2 (30 June 1946) p. 13

Notes 1 2 3

National Socialist (nationalsozialistisch) See 1.2. See 8.5.

8.4. A LACK OF TRUST The first post-war newspapers and magazines generally found an eager readership, and had more of a problem trying to ensure an adequate supply of paper than trying to sell their limited editions. But although the public were buying the copies, the readers were not necessarily buying what the papers told them: after all, twelve years of Nazi propaganda had been enough to make even the most credulous customers wary of the media. In theory, the Germans were ready and waiting for the truth to be told at last. In practice, there were some who still did not want to hear, and many who had developed a strong suspicion of any kind of officially sanctioned information, combined with a fairly acute perception of distortions and manipulative efforts. It would have taken more than the heavily controlled diet allowed to them by the Allies to satisfy the German readers’ hunger for reliable information, and to build up real trust in the new media. In 1946, when the document quoted below appeared in a book entitled The Reshaping of the German Press, people still had to practise their old skill of reading between the lines, according to the author Lambert Lensing. His description of the status quo defines it optimistically as a transitional state of affairs (Ubergangszustand), but reflects at the same time his disillusionment with Allied policy up to date.

Lastly, another crucial factor that added to the mistrust of this new press by the German population was the assumption that it was not presenting the honest opinions of licensed publishers and editors, but a reading matter shaped by military government control. A proclamation by the British Military Government on 26 February 1946 had stated that it was the task of the new press ‘to carry not political propaganda, but reliable, undistorted news’, and ‘to help re-shape democratic life in Germany’. This could not have been understood as anything else than granting unconditional freedom

The press

171

of the press, inasmuch as that is an elementary condition for the fulfilment of the tasks indicated in the proclamation. In the meantime, however, it has turned out that the licensed press is bound to follow guidelines which obviously exceed the measure dictated by the need to take protective means in order to safeguard the authority of the military governments. The nature of this control has become apparent in only a few cases, their background remaining outside the scope of public judgement. To the damage thus done, I shall return later. What is, on the other hand, clearly evident for the ‘man in the street’ is the lack of objective and constructive criticism concerning matters of public interest, the crucial questions of German interior politics, as well as political decisions of global importance. He keeps asking himself if the German newspapers see or hear nothing of what everybody is talking about, and what is making life hell for the Germans. Instead, he reads the praise of this or that measure taken by the military governments, as well as explanations concerning the causes of the present misery; explanations which do not leave him even a glimmer of hope for improvement, and which he, because of his own bitter experiences, perceives as inappropriate euphemisms. Under the enormous pressure of the present plight, some newspapers, namely the socialist ones, have recently begun—in most cases through quotes from the Allied press—to break the spell of silence, but what is still lacking is courageous criticism of their own, something which is necessary for any newspaper which would claim the right to assume the title of a carrier of public opinion in reality. All these circumstances combined make the German population—with or without justification—see today’s German press as an instrument forced upon them by the military governments; not, however, as something shaped by the men they trust, a mirror of German public affairs and an accurate reflection of the real state of the world. Source: Lambert Lensing, Die Neugestaltung der deutschen Presse (Bergisch Gladbach, 1946) pp. 4 f.

8.5. PIONEERING WORK One of the most prominent and influential men who shaped the new press in the American zone was Hans Habe, born 1911 as Hans Békessy of AustroHungarian extraction, and naturalised as a citizen of the United States after his emigration across the Atlantic. Habe came back to Europe in the uniform of a US Army officer, with the instruction to set up new newspapers under American

172

Germany 1945–1949

control. The most famous one of those was Die Neue Zeitung, printed in Munich on the same machines that had up to the very last days of the war been turning out the Völkischer Beobachter. The Neue Zeitung started with two weekly editions of 500,000 copies in October 1945 and broke the one-million barrier that same year; it was the show-piece of American-style quality journalism in Germany, with Hans Wallenberg as editor-in-chief and many Germans of contemporary or later fame, such as authors Erich Kästner and Stefan Heym, among the staff. In Habe’s recollections, the pride in the achievements of papers such as the Neue Zeitung and the Frankfurter Presse and in his own part in them clearly shows, but there is at the same time a nostalgic mention of lost chances and a defensive tone that qualifies the foregrounded emotion. Habe had to defend himself against suspicions of subversiveness and even communist sympathies in the post-war years, due to the fact that he was trying to minimise the amount of direct military control; later on, his work for conservative publications such as those of Axel Springer made him more liable to attacks from the other end of the political spectrum.

Meanwhile, I had launched the first bigger newspaper on German territory, the Frankfurter Presses launched, that is, in the most literal sense of the word. The half burnt-out printing works in which I—as they say in the trade—‘made up’ the first edition of the paper, were still largely under water. As well as the German printworkers, I and my Frankfurt editor Peter Wyden1 had taken off our shoes and socks before we set to work. The water we were standing in reached halfway up our shins. I presume it is hardly an exaggeration to use the term pioneering work here. But the Frankfurter Presse, followed by the licensed Frankfurter Rundschau,2 was a pioneering venture also in another sense. My team had, with the ‘Frankfurter Presse’, allayed all doubts on the part of the army in general, and of General McClure3 in particular. While it is true that we were never officially permitted to create real newspapers instead of bare dossiers, the army, being dependent on those German-speaking ‘boys’ I had trained in Camp Sharpe,4 nevertheless had to accept tacitly our idea of a German press in the year zero. In this context, however, the response that the Frankfurter Presse met with was of more than minor importance. The half a million copies we printed were sold out in a jiffy, and the reactions from readers expressed approval throughout: the Germans had been expecting worse. The Americans, on the other hand, even the military, could not deny their natural fondness for ‘publicity’. They forgot for one historic moment that we had achieved this success in the enemy camp—and when they again remembered the original concept

The press

173

of an ‘instructive’ press, it was too late to put a spoke in the wheel of evolution. If I think back now, after twenty years, to our first rendezvous with the German public, I feel a pleasant shudder when I imagine the opportunities that were missed. A more virginal, even ‘amorous’, receptive readership there has hardly ever been. Later, I heard the mocking comment that the Germans in those days bought ‘anything’ because they needed paper to wrap their vegetables in. This is an injustice not only towards the press of 1945, but also towards the public. Source: Hans Habe, Im Jahre Null: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der deutschen Presse (Munich, 1966) pp. 52 ff.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Anglicised form of Peter Weidenreich The first German newspaper to receive an Allied licence on 31 July 1945, only three months after the Frankfurter Presse first appeared US 12th Army Group commander, responsible for the issuing of licences Military camp near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where members of the US Army Psychological Warfare Division were prepared for work in Germany

8.6. A PROFUSION OF PRINT As more and more licences were handed out by the Allies, the number of newspapers grew, but there was an even faster increase in the number of magazines springing up in all four zones. There were some practical reasons: the magazine format did not demand the same degree of topicality, regularity of appearance, or all-inclusive, up-to-date coverage of current events. Furthermore, the magazines could cater for the widespread demand for entertainment and distraction. This is not to say that all of them practised escapism by avoiding any mention of the vital issues of the day, but the trend towards a look at the brighter side of life which came to dominate the 1950s was already recognisable, albeit kept at bay by economic and political circumstances. The review quoted here appeared in a periodical called Das goldene Tor (The Golden Gate), devoted mainly to literature and the arts. The editor, novelist Alfred Döblin (born 1878), takes a close look at the new publications from all four zones, trying to separate the chaff from the wheat through the analysis of language, and finding plenty of vagueness and empty formulas not only in the more light-hearted material.

At first, I sit completely baffled before the mass of paper which has been piled up before me. I am told it is magazines. I can see that. I am supposed to dig my way through the mountain. As I come in

174

Germany 1945–1949

every morning, I hope that someone has levelled off the mountain, or that a bomb has cremated it. But the longer I look at the monster, the higher it grows. I see it with horror. In Germany, magazines seem to be a natural phenomenon, they fall down from heaven or they rise from hell. In any case, one has to confront them heroically. I dig in, somewhere. My method: not to have a method. I discover quickly that some of these papers are illustrated, others not. Carefully, I put the illustrated ones on one pile, and, suspiciously, the nonillustrated ones on top of one another. Indignantly, I fling double copies aside. I survey the result: thirty-five different products. Each one has a different name. Whether all are readable, I am still to find out. A certain spirit of revenge, which will be understood, is stirring in me. Do the names or the covers attract me? There I read: ‘New Times’, ‘New World’, ‘View of the World’, ‘Future’, ‘Point of View’, ‘Horizon’, ‘Today’, and so on. The names are good, they say very little, they are quickly understood and soon forgotten. One magazine is called ‘River’, has a pretty river picture on the cover, I will look at it later, I hope it covers river navigation. Another one is called ‘Coloured Feathers’, also an agreeable title, it does not suggest anything, but that seems to be the intention. Twenty of the magazines are illustrated; of those, some carrying plain information with reproductions from all corners of the world, of different political colour. Some satirical, or would like to be so. Then there are magazines for young people, also ones made by women and for women. One is simply called ‘She’, another ‘Woman of Today’, a third one just ‘Woman’, and a fourth one just has no idea and whispers ‘For You’. Those who feel addressed are free to think so. The simple illustrated magazines which you buy at the station (whenever they are in stock) and leave on the train do not tend to take great pains to find a name (how long ago is it since the name had to signify something of the essence: you remember the passage in the Bible, when Adam was living in paradise and did not yet have a mate, when the Lord made all the animals of the field and the birds of the sky and the beasts of the forest pass before him, and he had to give its name to each one, and what he called it, that was how it was known). Now an illustrated magazine, without opening its eyes and giving away anything about it, calls itself: ‘Berlin Illustrated’ (both are true: Berlin and illustrated, but what is behind that?), then there is the ‘Baden Illustrated’, the Illustrated Review’. In very pretty attire comes the magazine which was given the name Ulenspiegel.1 I hope it really contains jests and mockery; there is nothing lacking as much now, apart from material things, as laughter.

Figure 15 Beauty has not gone out of fashion; this West Berlin hairdresser tries to persuade customers not to patronise his competitors in the Eastern sector where prices in the service sector are lower

176

Germany 1945–1949

Source: ‘Zeitschriftenschau’, in: Das goldene Tor 1/2 (October/November 1946) pp. 198 f.

Note 1

A semi-legendary late medieval fool, the hero of many German folk tales, whose attributes are the owl (Eule or Uhl) and the mirror (Spiegel)

8.7. PROTEST FROM THE EAST The licensed press in occupied Germany was not free, but it was initially extremely pluralistic. This is especially true with regard to the American zone, where the military government set out to create newspapers which were independent of political parties, whereas the British and the Soviets favoured a system of allegiances, where parties and other mass organisations would be represented by newspapers with well-defined loyalties. The Americans were prepared to grant licences to small groups of people with very different political opinions, as in the case of the Rhein-Neckar-Zeitung, whose licensees were the liberal Theodor Heuss (later the first President of the Federal Republic), the social democrat Hermann Knorr, and the communist Rudolf Agricola. But by 1948, there were no communist licensees left in the American zone, and the number of communists among the editorial staff was minimal, while in the Soviet zone communist newspapers had strengthened their position with Soviet support. This process gave rise to mutual accusations, as expressed in the document below, which concerns itself with the case of the Westdeutsches Volksecho (West German People’s Echo), which was prohibited by the British Military Government for two short periods in 1947 and 1948, the second time from 3 March to 16 April. This statement by the Socialist Unity Party SED (see 2.3.) links the event to what they perceive as a full-scale attack on the workingclass movement and national unity.

Protest Against the Threat to the Freedom of the Press in the West— Resolution of the First Culture Convention of the SED in Berlin, 6 May 1948 Those who have gathered in Berlin on occasion of the First Culture Convention of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany, about twothousand participants, express their indignation at the news of repressive measures taken against the socialist press in the Western zones. In the name of the progressive and democratic Germany, we raise a blaze of protest against the elimination of the entire socialist press of the working people in the Ruhr area, especially against the total shut-down of the Westdeutsches Volksecho in Dortmund, enforced by General Bishop through the withdrawal of its licence.

The press

177

Those assembled here recognise in this outrageous act of robbery, depriving the democratic press of its freedom, even in wilful disregard of decree No. 108 issued by the British Military Government, the systematic destruction of the foundations of a German democracy. This is all the more serious because the free press now prohibited was spearheading the fight for the heavily threatened unity of Germany as a state, as an economic and cultural community, and as a nation. The assembly invites all decent and free-thinking people in Germany and in the world to protest most strongly against the suppression of the democratic rights and liberties by the Western occupational powers. (Minutes of proceedings of the First Culture Convention of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany, 5 to 7 May 1948, in the German State Opera, Berlin) Source: Gerd Dietrich (ed.), Um die Erneuerung der deutschen Kultur: Dokumente zur Kulturpolitik 1945–1949 (Berlin, 1983) p. 265

8.8. A CALL FOR CHANGE In spite of much criticism, the system of the licensed press in the Western zones lasted until the foundation of the Federal Republic, when the market was thrown wide open and the newly created papers had to face the competition of even newer ones, in some cases established by people who had been the owners of pre-war newspapers. The fact that quite a few of the licensed ones survived the challenge has a certain bearing on those critical voices before 1949 which insisted that the licensed press was run by a bunch of incompetent amateurs, and could only exist because of the artificial monopoly. Still, these allegations were not entirely unjustified, and the standard set above all by the Neue Zeitung was certainly not attained by all those who worked as post-1945 journalists, often without previous experience. The following statement is from an essay by Eugen Kogon, editor of the periodical Frankfurter Hefte, in which he pushes for a new law establishing a free market press as a means towards improving the quality of journalism and working towards a greater scope and maturity of public opinion. Kogon had spent the war years inside a concentration camp, and resumed work as a freelance writer and editor in 1945; his book The SS State appeared in 1946. The Frankfurter Hefte comprised an important forum of fundamental debate about the future of Germany; in the article quoted here, Kogon admits that he had turned down several offers of a newspaper licence in favour of the more intellectual format. Certainly not only the average newspaper reader would have difficulties with some of Kogon’s syntax in this passage, with its interpolations and digressions, creating a sense of complexity and urgency in the polemic.

178

Germany 1945–1949

The core of the misery lies in the lack of superior, highly qualified editors-in-chief, the partners of politicians, of businessmen, of trade union leaders, of artists, of all leading intellectuals, and in the lack of trained journalists. To be a licensee is as good as nothing in this situation. If I was nothing but a licensee, I would merely be an almost pitiful figure, in spite of the supportive and not infrequently inhibiting—occasionally, by the way, stalling—benevolence with which the local and zonal authorities of the occupying power eagerly await the growth of their favourite class. (They are right.) Recently I listened to a talk between a high-ranking information control official and three licensees of the new daily press; it went out on the radio. In Austria you would describe those questions and answers which the four presented to one another—and to us—as a Taferlschul;1 they all lacked the knowledge as well as the ‘guts’. This is one of the reasons why the development of a public opinion in Germany has so far taken place so nearly exclusively in those few magazines which have made themselves heard in the chorus of the more than 1,200 licensed ones (464 in the US zone alone) through an intense tone rather than a loud one. But the magazines cannot do it; their contribution is of a different kind. A corresponding daily press of information and opinion, that is what we would need. Then much will change for the better in Germany: not only the relationship between the press and the parties, the politicians, the government authorities and the population who, even if they all are at loggerheads with one another in many ways, sometimes close ranks to form the most curious united front against the newspapers, but also the relationships between Germans of different opinions. Journalists who are no better equipped for their professional tasks than with admirable ambition and a white questionnaire,2 but who apart from that are unable even to recognise facts, let alone express them properly, especially without adequate editorial supervision, but on the other hand spurred on by the ever-re-enforced consciousness of the necessary control function of a democratic press—who would deny its necessity?—under certain circumstances, that is to say in a concrete difficult situation, where responsibility, discretion, far-sightedness, and a strong hand are called for at the same time, are a pest, and not at all the guarantors of the people’s freedom, and of their say in their own affairs. Loads and loads of cases in point can be quoted. Source: Eugen Kogon, ‘Vom Elend unserer Presse’, in: Frankfurter Hefte (July 1948) pp. 619 f.

The press

179

Notes 1 2

Primary school where pupils write on a small slate (Taferl) The denazification form, without any incriminating entry

8.9. MADE TO LAST The most influential survivor of the licensed magazines in the Western zones was without doubt Der Spiegel (literally, The Mirror). It was the successor of a short-lived publication called Diese Woche (This Week), published in Hanover by the British Military Government; the German staff, however, seemed to have learned their lesson in vivid, critical journalism too well. After several occasions when the occupying powers took offence at Diese Woche reports, an article about Allied exploitation of German patent rights proved to be the straw that broke the magazine’s back. The British, however, offered editor Rudolf Augstein a licence for a new publication in private ownership: this was Der Spiegel which first appeared with the layout and format of its predecessor on 1 January 1947. Germany had not had a news magazine of the kind before, and the newcomer went from strength to strength, developing its distinctive style drafted on the models of the American Time and the British News Review. This document is from the Spiegel statute of 1949, laying down the house rules for structure and form of Spiegel reports, for which Augstein and his crew preferred to use the English word ‘story’ instead of its German equivalent.

The inner form of the ‘story’ corresponds to the outward form of presentation. SPIEGEL-stories should 1 blurt out the news, i.e. say immediately in the first passage why and because of which current occasion they were written, 2 throw the first line to the reader like a painter rope. The first sentence contains the incitement to read on. The reader should in a way jump into the matter with a ‘whoops’, 3 leave the reader, if possible, with a very brief factual statement. In a way, he should finish reading every story looking up astonished, baffled, or amused, 4 contain no repetitions. Beware of a final résumé, 5 be written in brief, precise sentences. The main clause should prevail. Tapeworm-like sentences are contrary to the SPIEGEL-style, as they are more often than not incomprehensible and troublesome reading. Reading the SPIEGEL, however, should be as effortless as possible, 6 the SPIEGEL should be written along certain common guidelines. Uniformity will be avoided as a matter of course, because of the different temperaments of the writers and editors, and the

180

Germany 1945–1949

different topics. These differences are practical necessities, and should not be levelled off. However, taking for granted these natural variations and personal peculiarities, the reader may be allowed to think that, generally, all the stories have been written by the same author. In any case, a fragmentation of the SPIEGEL into different departments is to be avoided, 7 avoid all clichés. The use of hackneyed phrases and cheap stereotypes is forbidden, 8 look for individual, fitting, and at the same time concise and precise formulas. But these should in no case be forced. Witticisms for witticisms’ sake and unnatural quips are repulsive. Any outrageous violation of words is to be strictly rejected, 9 the words of the two headlines should leave a sensual impact that makes them easily memorable. They should stand in an antithetical relationship with one another, and should—at least one of them—touch on the topic of the story without naming it in a literal and dry manner. Forced and nonsensical references and word mutilations are to be avoided. Source: Leo Brawand, Die Spiegei-Story (Düsseldorf, 1987) pp. 228 f.

9

‘Low’ culture

9.1. GETTING THE PICTURES MOVING In the Nazi period, the German film industry had been centralised and used by the Hitler regime both as a propaganda weapon and, especially during the war, as a source of light-hearted mass entertainment offering a temporary escape from the harsh reality. After 1945, the USSR was the first of the occupying powers to realise the importance of the moving pictures as a means of reeducation and distraction, and to encourage a revival of the German film production. The first movies to be shown in German cinemas in all the four zones of occupation came from the Allied countries; they were sometimes accompanied by short documentaries exposing the atrocities of the Nazi regime such as The Death Mills (Die Todesmühlen), an American film about the concentration camps. The first German movie of the post-war period, Wolfgang Staudte’s The Murderers Are Among Us (Die Mörder sind unter uns, 1946) also dealt with the immediate past; however, the public was also to be offered pure entertainment, and in addition to Russian, American, British and French films, German movie theatres from 1946 were supplied also with finished versions of films begun before 1945 by the German Ufa (Universum-Film A.G.). More often than not, these films were completed by the same people who had started working on them, and many of the pre-1945 stars of the German screen remained popular favourites, such as the actor Heinz Rühmann (born 1902). The following document is an interview with Rühmann by the Berliner Zeitung, at that time published by the Soviet Red Army.

Heinz Rühmann—who would not know him? His funny movies brought much joy and diversion. Not only to the Berlin population. But as all those comic artists for whom humour is not mere slapstick, but represents the real life of the people, Heinz Rühmann is a serious man. Thus he came to be one of the first, if not the first well-known Berlin artist who volunteered unreservedly for the task of reconstruction. With his knowledge and his experience, he will be 181

182

Germany 1945–1949

of great use to the department of popular education in the Berlin municipal administration as a film expert. At the founding conference of the municipal administration, our reporter had the chance of an in-depth conversation with Heinz Rühmann. ‘Naturally, everything is still taking shape,’ said Herr Rühmann, ‘and some things are not yet clear. In film production, matters are even more difficult than in theatre. The technology is more complicated, we are talking about a complex and widely ramified industry, not just of halls and people who act in these halls or theatres.’ ‘So the most important thing now is’, asked our reporter, ‘to see how much of the film industry’s production apparatus is still operational, or can easily be restored?’ ‘Certainly’, answered Heinz Rühmann, ‘but at the same time, measures of a provisional kind must be taken.’ ‘Which ones would you suggest?’ ‘There are a number of finished films which were banned by the Nazis. I myself, for example, have saved a copy of one such film. But not only that: we must start dubbing Russian films, that is, translating the dialogue into German, or at least superimposing subtitles for the dialogue and the song lyrics. Some preparations for this have already been made.’ ‘And you yourself, Herr Rühmann—what are you planning for yourself personally?’ ‘I will help everywhere where I am needed. First, the ball must start rolling. Then I hope to be able to start shooting with my production group, which has remained nearly one hundred per cent complete. At the moment, as far as my time permits, I am busy completing a script for a feature film which I had begun earlier.’ ‘A comedy?’ ‘Yes. Our Berlin people are now doing a lot of hard work. They do the work willingly, because they are working for themselves, for the reconstruction of their city. My task as an artist, as I see it, is to give them their well-earned joy and diversion, as far as I can do so with my modest powers.’ ‘Well, Herr Rühmann, we are convinced that all the people of Berlin will be grateful to you, because that, too, is a part—and not the least important—of the difficult effort of reconstruction.’ Source: ‘Film-Pläne. Gespräch mit Heinz Rühmann’, in: Berliner Zeitung 3 (23 May 1945) p. 4

‘Low’ culture

183

9.2. CABARET Political cabaret had a long tradition in Germany, and had not even been completely obliterated during the Hitler era, although public performers of topical satire such as Werner Finck in Berlin and his Munich counterpart ‘WeissFerdl’ were treading a thin line under the watchful eyes of the authorities. Political humour flourished before 1945, mostly in the form of jokes passed on in an underhand manner, and only to those of whose loyalties the teller could be absolutely sure. After the war, many of these jokes became obsolete, as the target had disappeared: but many survived by a simple transformation, based on the substitution of new names and generic terms for old ones of the powersthat-be. But whereas folk humour favoured a continuing mental division between a ‘we’ (the people) and a ‘they’ (the rulers), a strategy at once sharply antiauthoritarian and identifying the collective ‘we’ with the eternal victims of history, the more literary form of political cabaret permitted a view with a few more shades of grey in between the black and the white, a view more in tune with the complex reality of the post-war years. The following lyrics are of a song by cabaret singer Helmut Brasch, describing some facets of Berlin society in 1945 from the point of view of a young girl, the ‘Child of the Ruins’ (Das Trümmerkind).

My mother says, there was a time When the houses all were whole. Many trees sometimes stood close by them, And in spring they’d kind of rustle in the wind. And all windows had unbroken panes— Mother has long been in the Charité,1 When she left, she told me to stay honest. Father was taken away to Plötzensee.2 Well, I have at least stayed honest so far, Only my stockings I did organise,3 But even that was just because of necessity, And doing so, I was ashamed of myself. Oskar is now trading in Yankee chocolate, But so far I haven’t got a taste of that, And I don’t dare to open his bedside drawer, Where I know he’s keeping a full box… In the yard, back there by the rotten planks Stands Herr Dünnebier; he was a party member,

184

Germany 1945–1949

And he’ll quarrel with Frau Olga Zielke, For he says, the old cow was in it, too. From our house, no one was in the party, Father has always been an old democrat, But in spite of that, they all read the VB4 Because the other papers didn’t exist. Sometimes I hear the old folks wailing, ‘Oh how rosy-red was the time of our youth!’, Just as well that we don’t know anything else, This way at least, we won’t get embarrassed. Well, I’ll be legging it back home now, Otherwise Oskar will be scoffing all the veg on his own, Because most often he doesn’t like to think about the others, And tonight I’ve still got to queue up for herring. ‘Meine Mutter sagt, es hat’ ne Zeit jejeben, Wo die Häuser alle janz jewesen sind. Viele Bäume standen manchmal dicht daneben, Und im Frühjahr rauschten die dann so im Wind. Und die Fenster hatten alle janze Scheiben— Mutter liegt schon lange in de Charité. Wie se wegjing, sagte se, ich soil ehrlich bleiben. Vater ham se abjeholt nach Plötzensee. Ehrlich bin ick ja soweit bisher jeblieben, Nur die Strümpfe hab ick mir orjanisiert. Doch auch dazu hat mir nur die Not jetrieben, Und ick hab mir vor mir selbst dabei geniert. Oskar handelt jetzt mit Amischokolade, Davon habe ick noch keene abjekricht, Und ick traue mir nich an die Nachttischlade, Wo doch da ein ganzer Kasten davon liegt… Uff’n Hof, da hinten, bei die morschen Planken, Steht Herr Dünnebier, der war in die Partei,

‘Low’ culture

185

Und er wird sich mit Frau Olga Zielke zanken, Denn er sagt, die olle Kuh war ooch dabei. Hier bei uns zu Haus is keener bei jewesen, Vater war schon immer alter Demokrat. Trotzdem ham se alle den VB jelesen, Weil’s die andren Blätter nich jejeben hat. Manchmal hör ick so die alten Leute flennen: ‘Ach, wie rosenrot war doch die Jugendzeit!’ Is man jut, dass wir es jar nich anders kennen, Kommt man wenijstens nicht in Verlejenheit. Na, nun will ich aber mal nach Hause wandern, Sonst frisst Oskar det Jemüse janz alleen, Denn der denkt ja meistens nicht jerne an die andern, Und heut abend muss ick noch nach Hering stehn.’ Source: Ulenspiegel (see 8.6), 1/26 (1945/6) p. 9 Notes 1 Berlin hospital 2 Berlin prison where many opponents of the Nazi regime were killed 3 See 7.3. 4 Völkischer Beobachter (see 8.5.)

9.3. SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING To feed a family was no mean task in post-war Germany. Apart from the ingenuity often needed to obtain the ingredients for a meal, the skill to get the maximum nutritional value out of the available was of equal importance. Newspapers and magazines printed hints on frugal cookery, and there was also a number of books on the market advising housewives how to create delicacies out of ingredients which were at other times thought fit for animal feed, but not necessarily for human consumption: sorrel, dandelion, or nettles, for instance. The following extract is from a collection of recipes printed in Bavaria, which mainly features fairly conventional recipes, but carries a preface of ‘General Hints’ on how to economise on valuable ingredients, which justifies its title Zeitgemässes Kochen (Cooking Appropriate in Our Times).

By the way, did you know that when spreading bread, you save butter or margarine if you first stir it until it is frothy?

186

Germany 1945–1949

when making pancakes, you save fat if you rub the empty frying pan with half an onion, dipped into fat with the cut surface? you can brown fatty meat without additional fat if you cut the fat off the meat and fry the meat in it? you can make a dark thick gravy quickly without fat if you keep a small store of brown flour, roasted in a frying pan and then stirred into the liquid? egg substitutes can be used instead of eggs up to a certain point? you save sugar if you do not add the sugar until your stewed fruit is ready, as sugar loses its sweetness if it is cooked too long? you can eke out jam if you mix it with stewed apple, pumpkin, or plums, or with mashed carrots? you can clean used baking fat if you pour it hot into a bowl of cold water? In the process, all impurities will sink to the bottom and can be easily removed when the fat has become solid. hard cheese will become as fresh if you soak it in fresh milk for a few hours? you can still boil a cracked egg if you wrap it in greaseproof paper beforehand, so that it cannot leak? you can thaw frozen eggs in cold water in a cold room? However, they have to be used immediately afterwards. you can keep half-used onions fresh if you put them with the cut surface down on salt sprinkled on a porcelain plate? when mincing meat in a mincer you can get all the remainders out if at the end you put some stale bread, parchment paper, or potatoes through the machine? burned dishes will have no burned taste if the pot is immediately put into cold water and, after the contents have cooled down a little bit, they are transferred into another container without scraping any of the burnt layer off the bottom? skimmed milk will not burn if you put a little water into the saucepan first, and then boil the milk? Source: Anna-Maria Weber, Zeitgemässes Kochen (Tegernsee, 1946) p. 3

9.4. SEEING THE IRONY Contrary to popular prejudice, there is such a thing as German humour, and some of the most conclusive pieces of evidence to prove this fact date from the post-war period. Hard times certainly make it difficult for people to preserve their sense of humour and see the comical side of life, but by the same token, in adverse conditions a humorous view of life can provide a survival technique

‘Low’ culture

187

for individuals as well as for a community. In Germany after 1945, public expressions of such a humorous view provided an antidote to the widespread feelings of despondency, pessimism, and self-pity, encouraging a satirical selfreflection, and exploiting the comic potential of a situation arising from the backfiring of dreams of national greatness. One of the most popular songs of the period proclaimed a new identity for the inhabitants of the Western zones of occupied Germany, as ‘Natives of Trizonesia’: it became a kind of alternative national anthem, facing the new facts with an irreverence that reflected a genuine sense of liberation from the pompousness and pathos that characterised the treatment of the issue of nationhood in the Nazi period. The following document from the satirical magazine Der Simpl exhibits a similarly disrespectful assessment of Germany’s new role as the recipient of foreign charity, as the direct result of nationalistic fervour: its author, the Munich comedian Karl Valentin (born 1882), highlights the difficulty many of his countrymen had in reconciling themselves to the changed reality.

LETTER TO AMERICA Dear Mr Myer! You will certainly not remember me, for, after all, our acquaintance (or was it a friendship?) dates back a good thirteen years. I have often said what a shame it was that you went away from Germany in those days, but still, maybe that was all right, for Hitler would have exterminated all the Jews, and thus, you as well. But believe me, I often remember the unforgettable hours we had together, waiting for the tram. And my wife—you do not know her, unfortunately— often says: ‘I wonder what this nice Mr Myer, about whom you talk so frequently, is doing in America…’ Yes, indeed, there is something to such an old friendship! If we have not written for so long, you will understand, for to be sure, we would have all ended up in a concentration camp. It was a bad time, dear Mr Myer, but in spite of that we were thinking of our friends abroad in steadfast loyalty, hoping that they would liberate us. Today, this has happened. And now, after postal communications have been opened again, it was a heartfelt need for me to write first to you of all people, as you are so close to me. After all, dear Mr Myer, especially we people of Munich, whether sorely tried at home or abroad, have to stick together and to make sure we do not perish. Above all, the scarcity of food supplies causes us a lot of concern. There is very little to eat, and my wife is very sick, as there is no real coffee. Smoking is a problem, too, and my children no longer know what they are to wear for school. Do not think, my dearest Myer, that we are begging you for help, true

188

Germany 1945–1949

to the Christian command ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself. Even in our poverty, we still have our pride. The purpose of this letter, dear, dear Myer, is only to resume old acquaintances. Well, what am I saying, not acquaintances, friendships, dearest Myer! And when people have been so close, it is certainly justified to use the more cordial Du as a form of address. Be assured, if ever you are in difficulties in America, you will always find my house open to you, and the little we have will be readily shared with you. Write soon, and accept the kindest regards of Your spitz1 and wife P.S. Just a little request, dear friend: would it not be possible for you—of course, you will be reimbursed—to get us one of those 27pound-parcels2 designed for us? Or should we rather keep the money for you, until you come to Munich? Anyway, send it as soon as possible, and two would not come amiss, either. Source: Karl Valentin, ‘Brief nach Amerika’, in: Der Simpl 1/9 (1946) p. 104

Notes 1

2

Spezi is Bavarian dialect for ‘friend’; Spitz is the German name for a Pomeranian dog as well as, colloquially, for a state of slight intoxication (einen Spitz haben); in the original, it is written without the capital as an attempt at anglicised spelling, followed by two English words See 3.6.

9.5. AN ALL-GERMAN PREMIERE On 15 October 1946, the German public got to see the first post-war feature film produced in Germany by Germans. The company was the Defa (Deutsche Film-Aktiengesellschaft), operating with a licence issued by the Soviet occupying forces; the director was Wolfgang Staudte, and the title of the film Die Mörder sind unter uns (The Murderers are Among Us). Staudte (born 1906) was trying to deal with the topical issue of individual and collective guilt and atonement in a movie with both artistic and entertainment value, reviving and updating a tradition established in the era of the silent movies that had produced such internationally renowned films as those of F.W.Murnau and Fritz Lang. Lang’s M, especially, had dealt with the themes of evil and justice, crime and punishment in a pre-war context: Staudte’s first post-war opus took recent history into account. The film was generally well received by critics and audiences, although there were comments that emphasised the fact that the acknowledgement of ‘Murderers among’ the Germans implied the exculpation of the majority, and encouraged the identification of the spectator with the ‘innocent’ hero of the story. The following review by Enno Kind from the 17 October Berlin edition

‘Low’ culture

189

of Neues Deutschland (see 2.4.) sums up the plot, and gives an interpretation of the moral of the tale.

A political film. It is political not because it proclaims a particular party line, but because of the consequence of its story. This story is a simple one. A doctor does not find his way back into life after 8 May 1945, because he is mentally unable to get over a war experience which is the war experience of hundreds of thousands. In the grotesque post-war world, in which abject misery and frivolousness abide side by side, he lapses into the supposed solution of alcoholism. The experience which caused this state of mind and its external consequences lies back three years. He is a subordinate of Captain Brückner, and doctor of his company. On Christmas day he tries to prevent executions of men, women and children, ordered by Captain Brückner—without success. The same evening, the Captain is wounded in a battle, and gives him, Dr Mertens, a letter to his wife in Berlin. In Berlin, Dr Mertens has moved into a severely damaged flat, to which the former owner returns after her liberation from a concentration camp. Mertens also meets the former Captain Brückner again in Berlin. He has already adapted to the new situation, is running his business, makes democratic speeches, and has a completely restored flat: this murderer among us! Twice, Mertens arrives at a decision to punish his former superior for his crimes. Twice, someone intervenes to prevent him from carrying out his plan; once it is a mother who asks for medical help for her child who is critically ill, and the second time it is the woman who shares the flat with him, who leads Mertens back to life. The murderers among us live on! The warning reads: Never let them win over us again! Watch out for the murderers among us! Of those who regard the world, the German world with open eyes and realistically, who could remain aloof from the admonition which this film cries out, valid yesterday and today? Insight in the entanglement of guilt is not an easy path to take. Consequently, the path through and with this film does not appear like a summer promenade, but as a walk through the hell of human and material collapse, through the world of the war inferno and its devastating legacy. In keeping with the weight of the inner events is also the progress of the film’s story: heavy and slow. It could not be any different. And who could deny that the towering ruins are our

190

Germany 1945–1949

own daily vision, which only the photographic image makes appear so convincingly, and, one could say, too frequently? The human eye, which reproduces its impressions on heart and intellect, has grown tired already, and passes the impression on in a merely automatic way. Source: ‘Die Mörder sind unter uns: Uraufführung des ersten deutschen Films nach dem Kriege in Berlin’, in: Theaterdienst 1/17 (1946) pp. 2 f.

9.6. A CHRISTMAS PROBLEM The Nazi period and the war had changed the world of German children considerably. Party youth organisations had tried to promote loyalty to the regime as a higher value than traditional family allegiances; during the war, the absence of many fathers from their wives and children had further disrupted standard patterns of growing up, with boys and girls frequently assuming adult tasks and responsibilities at an early age. The post-war years saw a gradual return of women to the kitchen, and of children to the nurseries—but the reestablishing of conventional roles was inhibited by external factors. At Christmas, parents were most likely to be aware of their inability to provide their offspring with the material comforts of a sheltered childhood: those cherished gifts which make little eyes glow with wonder and delight, and, whatever their educational value, define the status of the receivers as members of society who can and who should devote at least part of their time to carefree play. The following article from Diese Woche traces the plight of parents at Christmas 1946 back to the situation of the German toy industry before and after 1945, with a poignant comparison between the situation in Germany and the United States, which raises a question that goes beyond the obvious expression of envious feelings.

‘Father Christmas1 has been bombed out!’ Today, this is often the answer to the questions of the little prattlers, when they put together their lists of toys they would like for Christmas. In our times, it is indeed a miracle if dads and mums manage to give their children decent toys, for where people used to produce dolls, teddybears, train sets and mouth organs, nowadays there are, for the most part, merely ruins. As early as 1939, the German toy industry was integrated into the war effort. In the doll factories people sewed uniforms, the factories for mechanical toys produced ammunition, and in the wood workshops, ammunition boxes and hand grenade handles were made. At the beginning of 1943, the production of toys was completely prohibited. ‘Guns, not construction sets’ was the motto.

Figure 16 Uncle Sam as Santa Claus: the 6th Infantry Regiment hand out presents to Berlin kinds

192

Germany 1945–1949

Also, the remains of the toy industry that survived until the post-war era have suffered heavily from aerial bombardment. The Lehmann company in Brandenburg (Havel), one of the major producers of metal toys, works only on consignments going to Russia as reparations. Many toy factories in the Eastern zone have been dismantled. In Nuremberg, only a few factories are still operating. The Schuco toy company turns out only 2 to 3 per cent of the pre-war output, which goes exclusively to the American occupying forces, and into export. The little toy trains of the Märklin company in Göppingen are also westward bound, and the mouth organs of the famous Matthias Hohner company may only play the tune of the French military government. Those who refuse to buy the trash camouflaged as ‘craft items’ at astronomical prices, have to try their luck themselves in making toys. American and English soldiers have established community workshops, in order to make their contribution to the Christmas joy of German children. In spite of this, the tables in Germany will carry few decent toys, and it is a blessing that the children cannot see the brightly lit shop windows of America, for instance. Their envy would know no bounds. In the US, Father Christmas has not been bombed out. Presumably, he does not even know what that means. This year, America is having the greatest Christmas boom of all times. The turnover of toys is 25 per cent higher than last year, and 50 per cent higher than in all pre-war years. Beside the latest construction sets which provide scale models of everything, from rafters to roof tiles, what Santa Claus has in store for the little citizens of God’s own country is, again, mainly martial toys. It seems as though the American toy tycoons have a peculiar notion of the growing generation’s readiness for peace, for while in Germany a castle and tin soldiers are considered ‘fascist toys’, American shops are brimming over with guns, electric howitzers, tanks, model cars in the shape of jeeps, aeroplanes, and entire armies of lead soldiers which would be sufficient to storm the nurseries of the entire world. It is dubious whether this is the right way to eliminate the notion of war in the world at large. The radiant eyes of children would be a good enough reason to ensure the growth of the toy industry in Germany and elsewhere, at the expense of that industry which produces guns and aeroplanes which are too big to fit into cardboard boxes.

‘Low’ culture

193

Source: ‘Kanonen statt Baukästen. Spielzeug und “Kunstgewerbe”’, in: Diese Woche 1/5–6 (21 December 1946) p. 23 Note 1 His most common name in Germany is the neutral Weihnachtsmann, which avoids confusion with the ‘Nikolaus’ alias Saint Nicholas alias Santa Claus or the Dutch Sinterklaas, whose day is 6 December

9.7. ESCAPE VS REALITY Not long after the rebirth of the German film industry, a potential divide between the makers and the consumers became apparent. The genre of the Trümmerfilm (Movie of ruins) tried to find a way of visualising life in postwar Germany, to capture people’s attempts to deal with the material as well as the spiritual legacy of the recent past. This was done with a fair amount of skill and ingenuity, and with careful packaging of the content in the form of thriller or comedy, to ensure a general appeal. However, the formulas that were found had their limitations, and it turned out that whatever the story was, lots of people just did not want to know if the background was provided by that reality which was their daily experience. To show this reality was acceptable as an exception and a novelty, but the intrinsic interest would diminish by repetition, and it could certainly not provide the basis of a whole national film culture. The article from Der Spiegel quoted here reads the signs of popular opinion at a time when the new German film was less than three months old; in view of later developments, the author’s analysis rings true, above all in its hint at a developing gulf between art and entertainment in a medium which had, before 1933, frequently managed to combine the two.

Comments from n stalls and circle

Ruins are not wanted In Berlin, a public literary debate about the ‘topical’ film has arisen. Even before the start of the new German film production, theorists and writers were demanding that the new German film should become a reflection of contemporary life. It should deal exclusively with problems of today, and with conflicts that are those of the ‘simple man in the street’. For how, it was asked, could a new art develop, how could one justify putting a considerable amount of resources into film production at a time of general deprivation, if the film was constantly passing by real life? If it had its mental roots in the more or less false pre-war dreams of a perished middle-class world? Others, among whom the so-called experts in audience psychology were the most numerous, objected: naturalism was an outdated form of representation, which had only been practicable

194

Germany 1945–1949

when there was a saturated middle-class audience. Today, however, real life itself was saturated with ‘naturalism’ to such an extent that there was no longer a place for it in art. These two opposite points of view were, up to now, merely an issue among experts. Now they have clearly been brought to light at a public discussion which the Defa1 organised after the premiere of its Lamprecht film Somewhere in Berlin2 What emerged was that a large part of the ‘normal’ cinema audience rejects the topical content, the ‘true-to-life’ quality of the new film. And that in spite of the respect they have for it otherwise. Real life, it was said, and notably by women, too, was sad enough today. In the cinema, people would like to relax, to ‘forget’, and not to be reminded of everyday misery. People no longer wanted to see ruins and homecoming PoWs in rags (as shown in Somewhere in Berlin). They wanted more cheerful images. A few days later, a film not featuring any ruins was premiered on Kurfürstendamm.3 Instead, it spread out the panorama of a social life as it was led before the war by a certain class of West Berliners who were plain stupid, and thought themselves fashionable. The story was a ‘nice’ one: a young man (the popular Gustav Fröhlich)4 rejects the conventional white lie, says all the time what he really thinks (fanatics always mistake this for truthfulness), and thus gets into all sorts of funny situations. At least over the Christmas holiday, audiences rushed to see this film. At the same time, the daily press rejected it as being unrealistic, and radical in an outdated way. The irony of (filmic) fate would have it that this ‘phoney’ film happens to bear the title: Tell the truth!5 Source: ‘Stimmen aus Parkett und Rang: Man mag keine Ruinen’, in: Der Spiegel 1/1 (6 January 1947) p. 20

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

See 9.5. Gerhard Lamprecht (born 1897), film actor, author and director since 1914; Irgendwo in Berlin is the story of the story of a gang of boys getting involved in theft and black market dealing Main boulevard of West Berlin Theatre and film actor, frequently cast as the youthful lover and featured in, among many other films, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1926) Sag die Wahrheit!, based on a stage comedy by Johann von Vaszary; the first Berlin movie production with a British licence, granted to Artur Brauner, who, according to the Spandauer Volksblatt, had ‘arrived out of nowhere with a suitcase full of money’

‘Low’ culture

195

9.8. WHO SPOILED THE FUN? Post-war Germans still had occasions to celebrate, but it was not easy to create a party spirit when certain ingredients were in short supply; this was the case with small-scale private festivities, and even more so with public events. In any case, there were fundamental doubts as to the propriety of, for instance, public dances in view of the national predicament. In a letter dated 15 October 1946, addressed to the editor of a daily newspaper, the chief of a district administration in Hesse spoke of numerous complaints he had received about public dances and, while stressing that he was not denying the right of young people to enjoy themselves, advocated ‘restraint and discipline even in the expression of joy’, and announced that he would stop licensing public dances organised by political parties, even if they were supposed to raise money for charity. Such efforts, however, could not really prevent those who were wanting to have fun from grabbing any opportunity to do so, and in 1947, some of the most popular traditional festivals were on again: for example, the carnival of the Rhineland towns, and the Munich Oktoberfest, better known abroad as the Munich Beer Festival. But the following article by the journalist and author of fiction Rolf Flügel (born 1897) describes the 1947 fair as a mere shadow of past glories. One of the less obvious, but more significant implications of Flügel’s elegiac report is that the ghost train has lost its attraction and its horror, in view of more real horrors experienced by many.

When the first fairy lights go on above the rotundas of the roundabouts, and when purple shadows appear on the tender strips of cloud in the west, above the ruins of the Bavaria Hill, it is almost as if…. About this ‘as-if’, a philosopher has once written a big book, but we have to cope with it as a part of our daily life. Whoever carries memories within him, Oktoberfest memories, should harden his heart in defence. Maybe at some stage a whiff of Steckerlfisch1 will hit him. Then things are still at their most perfect. Warning! Do not follow the smell. At its end, or rather at its beginning, you will meet fried herrings (a long time ago you lost the courage to say: miserable fried herrings), and before them, winding and bent in a meandering shape, the queue. Generally, it is the same scene as in front of a dairy shop, the only difference being that it is mainly not housewives who are queuing up. In front of the ghost train, couples are waiting in a long chain. By God, it is the old ghost train, it is the old desire! How many have since been told about the ghost train, about the spectres and the rattling skeletons, about the strands of hair hanging down in the dark, about the awful howls and the impenetrable darkness, out of which, all of a sudden, a flaming red devil would appear and stick his tongue out! Each cart

196

Germany 1945–1949

would hold two people. That was just the ticket, because in all likelihood, the girl would be frightened and draw near to you. Whatever was the name of the last girl you had accompanied in there? Her mouth had tasted a bit of Turkish delight, a bit of Märzenbier.2 No other mixture could surpass this. Now, again, they are standing in front of the ghost train, waiting to be let in. Everywhere, they are waiting to be let in, unless a sign explains the situation: Bratwürstl3 sold out. Instead, there are Busserl.4 They verge on the inedible, and even a German stomach hardened in bitter months, attempts, albeit in a perfunctory way, some movements of resistance. Source: Rolf Flügel, ‘Wies’n-Impressionen 1947’, in: Hans-Joachim Sperr (ed.), Die Kameltränke: Ein Almanack des Münchener Tagebuchs in fünf Kapiteln (Munich, 1950) pp. 59 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Bavarian fish speciality, grilled on a small stick (Steckerl) Literally ‘March beer’, light Bavarian type Fried sausages Literally, ‘kisses’; a sweet

9.9. SPORT AND POLITICS The revival of German sport, especially of football as the number one attraction, was an important parameter for the normalisation of post-war life, as well as for the growing division of the nation. At first, football was organised within the zones of occupation; but for the 1946/7 season already, there was an attempt to organise a German championship, which failed for various reasons, most importantly the lack of Allied consent. Subsequently, however, the solid front of the Allied powers broke up, to allow a development whose direction became extremely predictable at least from 1948, when the ‘Bi-zonal Football Committee’ became the ‘Working Committee for Football’, and at last the DFA, the ‘German Football Committee’ (Deutscher Fussball-Ausschuss), in the abbreviated form just one letter away from the former DFB, the ‘German Football Federation’ (Deutscher Fussball-Bund), The West had taken the lead, was discussing the official establishment of full-time professional players, and organised the first post-war championship final without East German participation. The apparent inevitability of a lasting division caused some concern not only in the Soviet zone, but also in Berlin, as expressed by the columnist of the weekly magazine Fussball Sport-Forum in the article quoted here, under the heading of ‘Seven days of football’. The author Carl Koppehel (born 1890), football journalist, historian, and press officer of the old DFB from 1934, still sees some scope for altering the course of events, even if he is

Figure 17 Non-fraternisation is a non-starter at this fashion show in an American soldiers’ club

198

Germany 1945–1949

aware of what the introduction of ‘basic laws’ in the West will mean to the aim of making a unified footballing nation ‘great and strong’ again.

Is the DFB coming? From the West we hear about ‘the progress of work concerning the sport of football’. People are busy founding this and that, and creating committees which are to pave the way for the coming form of organisation. The German Football Federation as it existed until 1933, leading a complacent life, is on the minds of our fellow sports enthusiasts in the West of our fatherland. We hear of a never-ending series of meetings, and each time ‘a step ahead is taken’. We fear that, over there, things are seen in a perspective that is far too selfcentred, without a proper assessment of the situation that has developed beyond the zonal borders, i.e. in Berlin and in the Soviet zone of occupation. Nothing against sports organisation for football in the whole of Germany; on the contrary, it will and must come. Not only because this is a condition for resuming international contacts. It is necessary, because that is the only way to give German football a full sphere of activity. Still, it will be a long way until we have a new DFB. And we would like to raise our voice, warning against pushing ahead with a haste which can only be detrimental. Have people in the Western zones of our fatherland lost their sense of reality which should tell them that there can be a German federation only if all zones (an ugly word, by the way) are taken in? How do they think Berlin and the Eastern zone can be integrated? Do they want to create fixed basic laws without involving those two interested parties who do not only constitute more than one third of our fatherland, but have also proved in past decades that they have a right to be appreciated fully in the field of sports? Did not today’s Eastern zone provide the last champions of German football?1 And are the powers of the past not working in leading roles elsewhere, thus making clear their importance to sport? And has not especially Berlin, in matters of organisation, given German football everything that made it great and strong? Whoever turns up his nose today at Berlin’s lack of strong players should not forget that nearly half a hundred players from Berlin are playing a major role in the other zones. A German Football Federation can only unite all the participants in German football, and this is why the men who are preparing its revival have the duty to ensure that first, the powers involved are put on an equal footing. Until now, we have seen neither

‘Low’ culture

199

efforts at making contact, nor ‘free chairs’,2 instead a certain ignorance of the way things are developing. Let us hope that this recognition will soon be recognised3 by the men in charge. Source: Carl Koppehel, ‘Sieben Tage Fussball’, in: Fussball-Sport Forum 27 (18 January 1949) p. 3

Notes 1 2 3

The author means pre-1945 winners, ignoring the 1948 title-holders Presumably seats for representatives from Berlin and the Soviet zone at meetings in the Western zones The tautology is in the original text (Hoffen wir, dass die Erkenntnis darüber bald von den berufenen Männern erkannt wird.)

10

‘High’ culture

10.1. TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT? Post-war theatre in Germany began largely with a revival of German and foreign classics, and occasional dramatisations of the recent past, such as in the play Gerichtstag (Day of Judgement) by the author Julius Hay (born 1900 in Hungary). The first German performance of Gerichtstag took place in Berlin in September 1945; the play met with a mixed reception on the part of audiences and critics. It is set in 1943, portraying a family drama with a wider significance: father ‘tries’ and ‘executes’ his Nazi son, who has murdered his brother who disagreed with fascist ideology. Reviewers tended to applaud the attempt at dealing with a sensitive subject, while many of them expressed a feeling of discomfort which they explained with the lack of temporal distance of the author and the public in relation to the period treated. The following extract from a review in Deutsche Volkszeitung (see 8.1.) by the journalist, actor and theatre critic Fritz Erpenbeck (born 1897) takes up the issue with a categorical refusal of the assumption that the author’s proximity to the subject necessarily impairs his artistic vision, and the aesthetic quality of the writing. Erpenbeck, a Communist Party member since 1927, accuses the advocates of ‘detachment’ of having dubious motives for their reaction to the play.

Tua res agitur! Your case is on trial here! It is your day of judgement. And just so far as you are ready to recognise your share of guilt and to admit it to yourself, just so far, according to your degree of readiness to share in the atonement, you will experience shame, the desire to escape, or even defiance and objection. After the second act (upon which, by the way, the third should follow without the long break which has become meaningless in our days), we saw people weep with emotion. However, we also heard others pontificating in a cool manner: in order to give poetic shape to a topical drama, ‘a greater detachment was certainly needed’. Now, this is an argument which serious artistic criticism must explore in depth. 200

‘High’ culture

201

Who would today have the right to talk like this, without giving rise to the obvious suspicion that they want to escape from the sentence of the ‘Day of judgement’ into the realm of an arrogant artistic aestheticism? For this means nothing other than: I, the wise critic, have of course got this detachment; how else should I be able to perceive that the author does not have it?—In any case, what could be said, without any irony, to this species of aestheticising observers of art is: Tell me, dear Sir, dear Madam, what kind of a detachment from current events did you yourselves have until May 1945, you, who are criticising the lack of detachment in a poet who as early as 1943/4 wrote a play in which he proved to have such an astonishing degree of detachment that he could analyse the situation of our entire people, including your very personal one, clearly enough not only to produce a drama which only now seems ‘too close’ to you, but that he could also make a prophetic prediction as to the end of the tragedy, at a time when you, great artistic aesthete, maybe still thought that a bearable end to the play was imaginable? In short: one should not demand detachment of the poet because one has not yet got that detachment oneself, and feels vaguely attacked; otherwise one will appear—at best—ridiculous. Source: Fritz Erpenbeck, ‘Gerichtstag: Zur deutschen Uraufführung von Julius Hays Tragödie’, in: Deutsche Volkszeitung 1/88 (22 September 1945) p. 2

10.2. AT A LOSS FOR WORDS The men and women who were reviving the post-war German stage could be almost certain to find audiences eager for cultural events, but they also found audiences that were extremely critical. Theatregoers were not necessarily looking for a dramatic revelation of the truth about the Nazi past, but they tended to be looking for some kind of universal human truth, wanting, in a way, to be reassured that there were still things to be believed in, still values to be held, and still forms of behaviour that could be taken as exemplary. Reviews of the period testify to the fact that plays with a prevailing mood of decadence, pessimism and nihilism which in a different age would have been considered as acceptable and illuminating, did not satisfy the needs of post-war spectators: there was a widespread feeling that art should provide more than that, should give the public a hint of things worth living for. At the same time, the same people who were looking for positive emotions were liable to mistrust their linguistic expression, and that includes authors themselves. The following extract from a summary of the theatrical season 1945/6, entitled ‘First Season in the Nuclear Age’, picks up on an indication of the paradox that the people who

202

Germany 1945–1949

worked with language could also be the ones most suspicious of it: from a vantage point of more than forty years later, it could be interpreted as an example of a particularly German kind of post-modernism.

The powerless word It seems as though the poets and the public of today were inclined to look through the fabric of our existence, threadbare and full of holes, into the region of metaphysics, and as far as they are modern poets, they present their insights as retrospectives to times past. Formally, the image of a new Renaissance emerges: old plots are recast, a lot of Greek material is presented as archetypal images of modern events, biblical myths and characters become symbols of contemporary entanglement and redemption. Citing as an example Axel von Ambesser’s 1 very successful play The Unfathomable in Mr Gerstenberg,2 I would like to point out a danger inherent in this attitude, which is so fruitful otherwise. This kind of literature is extremely eloquent, and adept at the anatomical dissection and the classificatory naming of the common driving motives of average men; however, it is exceptionally helpless in the presentation of the real, the immediate, the obvious. At the moments when the poet’s power should prove itself most vividly, in the love scenes, von Ambesser’s own linguistic power fades away, he himself grows silent, the lovers lose their own voices, on stage stands a tattered, old director and teaches the young couple to repeat the amorous dialogue from Romeo and Juliet. The place of spontaneous expressions is taken by quotations; what should be most deeply moving is not said specifically any more, but only announced—partly by a kind of master of ceremonies outside the action, as in Ambesser’s play. What thus becomes apparent, can be called, in the form of a slogan, ‘the powerless word’: the poet’s perception of the word’s lack of power to express reality. This phenomenon corresponds exactly to the onset of supreme silence, the paralysing silence concerning that reality which has been driven out of the reach of any common verbal expression. To break this silence, to really find words again, will be our most important task. Source: ‘Erste Saison im Atomzeitalter: Bemerkungen über das Hamburger Theater 1945/46’, in: Hamburger Allgemeine (6 August 1946) p. 2

Notes 1 2

Axel Eugen von Österreich, German actor and author (born 1910) Das Abgründige in Herrn Gerstenberg

‘High’ culture

203

10.3. A PRIVATE DEFENCE Among the German writers of pre-war fame, there were not very many who were in a position to influence the course of post-1945 literature. On the one side were the emigrants who, especially but not exclusively in the West, had to contend with suspicion and resentment, while those who had stayed often found themselves incriminated for different reasons. Whoever looked for literary figureheads in post-war Germany found few eligible people with an established name and immaculate credentials. Among those who found their reputation tainted was the poet Gottfried Benn (born 1886), who, in October 1933, had been one of eighty-eight prominent Germans to sign a declaration of loyalty to Hitler. In the letter quoted below, dated 5 October 1946, Benn defends himself against a variety of accusations, and tries to clarify his position in a list of statements referring to different points of contention. Benn is at pains to emphasise that he does not care about public opinion, while the very act of self-justification, though delivered from a superior intellectual pose, contradicts his fundamental statement all the more strongly the longer he goes on about it, presenting evidence in his favour with the punctiliousness of a conscientious accountant.

Now, in this context, I will add a statement about my alleged antisemitism: I have, in the thirty-five years of my literary activity, dedicated a poem, a book, or something of the kind to a particular person five times. Out of the five people concerned, four were Jewish friends, namely Carl Sternheim,1 Carl Einstein,2 Else Lasker-Schüler,3 Alfred Flechtheim.4 I name the twentieth century the century of Einstein, in an essay of mine which has become famous, ‘Goethe and the Natural Sciences’, and I declare that the best book on Goethe is that of Georg Brandes.5 I point to the fact that this essay is featured in the book The New State and the Intellectuals, in which especially reasons for accusations against me are found now (published 1934). As to my alleged anti-semitism, Mr and Mrs Heinz Ullstein6 also would most willingly give testimony, people with whom I was in contact throughout the entire Nazi period, and who visit me frequently even now. Point 4: The blacklist. That I am on it, was a secret to me until now; I had heard that I am on a list of ‘National Activists’, which was equally surprising to me. As to the blacklist, I have been unable to ascertain here who drafted it. Some say the Berlin magistrate, Department of Popular Education. However, nobody presents their name and their person as author of this list. I do not know either what it signifies, politically or with regard to publishing. Furthermore, I have been told that there are only two books of

Figure 18 Replying to the 132 questions of the Allied questionnaire—a time-consuming procedure

‘High’ culture

205

mine represented on the Russian index, namely The New State and the Intellectuals and Art and Power, thus, as a whole person, I should be free and able to publish new books. But all these lists seem to fluctuate and also change frequently. I have taken no steps towards clarifying or rectifying anything with regard to this matter. The public is no longer a major concern of mine. In an atmosphere in which even the so-called intellectuals use their position only to eliminate, beat down, or suspect people they do not like, in such an atmosphere, in any case, I would sooner be on a blacklist than on a white one. It seems hard to deny that this list originates from emigrant circles; many things point in this direction. Source: Gottfried Benn, Brief an Johannes Weyl, in: Max Niedermayer, Marguerite Schlüter (eds), Gottfried Benn: Lyrik und Prosa, Briefe and Dokumente. Eine Auswahl (Wiesbaden, 8th revised edn, 1957) pp. 166 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6

Playwright, died in Belgium 1942 Art historian, died by suicide in France 1940 Playwright and poet, emigrated to Jerusalem via Switzerland in 1933 Art dealer and publisher, died in England 1937 Pseudonym of the Danish writer Georg Cohen, died 1927 The husband is the publisher Heinz Ullstein, who lost his company in 1933 and re-entered the trade after the war

10.4. BOOKS FOR READERS According to a US Military Government Survey conducted in 1946, a large number of Germans were not readers of books: as many as 55 per cent of nearly one thousand Germans interviewed in the American zone professed that they never read any at all. Among those who described themselves as people who read frequently, the former Nazis outnumbered the rest; throughout the sample, the preference was for novels and short stories, and the greatest interest in books that had been banned during the fascist era. Those books, however, were in short supply, and to improve the situation, unconventional methods were called for. The following article from Diese Woche describes the attempt of the publisher Ernst Rowohlt (born 1887) to make more books more available, as a means of popularising ‘good’ fiction and at least potentially reaching those who, for whatever reason, did not have any contact with literature. Rowohlt had entered the publishing business in 1908; the revival of his company in 1945 was a repeat performance of its relaunch in 1919, after World War I. The original Rowohlt Rotation Novels (Rowohlt-Rotations-Romane, hence Ro-Ro-Ro) came at a time when the mass production of standard paperbacks after the American fashion was as yet impossible due to the lack of paper supplies, printing and binding facilities: even when the format was changed, Rowohlt paperbacks kept the by

206

Germany 1945–1949

then popular acronym. The report expresses an unqualified enthusiasm for Rowohlt’s project in a manner very uncharacteristic of the magazine it appeared in (cf. 6.5., 8.9., 9.6., 9.7.).

Ro-Ro-Ro’ Ernst Rowohlt takes the initiative The first three hundred thousand copies of Rowohlt Rotation Novels were recently issued to retailers by Rowohlt Publishers Ltd.1. The pacemakers for this new kind of book production are the novels Gripsholm by Kurt Tucholsky,2 In Another Country by Ernest Hemingway,3 and The Great Companion by Alain-Fournier,4 with editions of one hundred thousand copies each. With a great idea in mind, the incredibly vigorous and young 60year-old Ernst Rowohlt sat down at his incredibly chaotic desk in his tiny Hamburg office, and overcame all technical restrictions, including the lack of bookbinding materials. He is issuing world literature in unabbreviated editions at a price of 50 Pfennigs, in newspaper rotation print! The pamphlets measuring 23 by 30 cm contain an average of 35 pages, the rough equivalent of 300 book pages. They leave the press as complete publications, like newspapers, ready for distribution. Rowohlt himself calls his idea the greatest publicity campaign ever for good literature. ‘It is not the commercial side that makes me interested in the project, but the opportunity to bring an entire generation into contact with a literature to which they previously had no access. ‘If I manage to win just ten thousand new readers for good literature with every edition after this manner, I am completely satisfied.’ In order to provide as complete as possible an insight into the intellectual creation of foreign countries, the plan is to print only one book by each author. The suggestion that the Ro-Ro-Ros could be in competition with the bound book, Rowohlt denies firmly. ‘When an economic recovery comes, it will be above all the new circles of readers won by the RoRo-Ros, who will want to possess the works of their favourite authors in book form. Until that is the case, however, we want to give the public eager for reading matter what they need now: good books for little money!’ Source: ‘“Ro-Ro-Ro”: Ernst Rowohlt ergreift die Initiative’, in: Diese Woche 1/5–6 (21 December 1946) p. 32

‘High’ culture

207

Notes 1 2 3 4

Rowohlt Verlag GmbH (‘Gesellschaft mit beschränkter Haftung’: Limited Company) Schloss Gripsholm (1931), a novel named after a castle in Sweden, the country in which the German novelist and satirist Kurt Tucholsky lived after his expatriation in 1933, until his suicide in 1935 The title is a literal translation of the one chosen for the 1930 German edition of A Farewell to Arms (1929) as In einem anderen Land Der grosse Kamerad was the title of the first German edition of Le Grand Meaulnes (1913) by French author Henri Alain-Fournier

10.5. BACK TO THE CLASSICS While the readers of fiction were lapping up the translations of twentiethcentury world literature from Rowohlt’s rotation machines (cf. 10.4.), theatre audiences did not take to twentieth-century drama in the same way, whatever its origin. One possible explanation is that watching a play does not offer quite the same chance of escape into distant lands which the reader of a novel can indulge in privately. In a theatre audience, there may be a different world represented on stage, but the spectator is surrounded by others who share the experience as well as being part of the same reality outside the playhouse, who will remind one another of that, and who, if they are looking for anything beyond entertainment, will be inclined, and in a position, to discuss the relevance of what they have seen and heard to the world into which they re-emerge. In this respect, the classics generally fared better than more recent dramatists; Werner Ahrens, the author of the article quoted here, puts this down to the emotional needs of audiences, mainly to young people’s desire for cathartic experiences which they did not find in contemporary plays. The essayist is in favour of the renewed interest in the classics, and dismissive about some late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century authors, while he is unable or unwilling to support his plea for contemporary drama by citing positive examples.

It is evident, the German theatre of the present day lacks a twentiethcentury Schiller,1 a genius who sums up the common desires which stir in everyone’s breast, in one single outcry against tyranny and for human rights, making the stage and the auditorium a single unit of thought and feeling. By accident, the author of these lines witnessed a production of Intrigue and Love2 in a middle-sized town in southern Germany, a production which moved the audience, and especially the young people among them, to an enthusiasm which you could not have hoped to find in people who are starved and burdened with all sorts of worries. The explanation is simple: here was something of the topical play for

208

Germany 1945–1949

which those people longed: struggle for human rights, rebellion against state despotism, and in addition, real dramatic energy, real theatre! To everyone’s astonishment, there was once again proof of the fact that the truly topical play is not tied to any intellectual trend or any era.

The wish to hear our classics again also springs from a feeling of the young generation which has become more noticeable lately, the feeling that one cannot disown the classics or declare them dead by just not talking about them, without thereby declaring one’s spiritual bankruptcy. And the young generation are not willing to make this declaration. Such an attitude should not, however, encourage people to turn away from contemporary theatre. The young generation are eager to know the works whose performance the state prohibited in the past years, they want to be able to form their own opinions about them. But at the same time, they reject ‘warmed-up stuff which is only presented ‘to give it an airing again’, if that stuff does not really have anything to offer to them. But the majority of the works of Kaiser, Zuckmayer, and Wedekind,3 to name just a few, do not get the same reception as the sour cabbage of the Widow Bolte.4 On the contrary, they are perceived as outdated, and are pushed aside. Still, the young generation is keen to hear foreign voices, eager to get from them maybe a new faith in mankind and life. But the works shown so far, spell-binding and fascinating as some of them have been, seem without exception unsuited to fulfil the young generation’s longing for a firm foothold in the whirlpool of time, and light and hope for an existence that has to be built anew. Source: Werner Ahrens, ‘Jugend und Theater der Gegenwart’, in: Paul Möhring (ed.), Hamburger Theater-Almanack 1947 (Hamburg, 1947) pp. 77 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Friedrich Schiller (1759–1805), Germany’s most successful dramatist of the classical period; one of his favourite themes was that of political liberty and individual freedom Kabale und Liebe (1783, originally called Luise Millerin), an early work from Schiller’s Sturm und Drang (‘Storm and Stress’) period The playwrights Georg Kaiser (1878–1945), Carl Zuckmayer (born 1896), and Frank Wedekind (1864–1918), representing realist as well as expressionist drama In the adventures of Max und Moritz (1865) by Wilhelm Busch, the German inventor of the comic strip, the Widow’s Sauerkraut tastes better every time it is reheated

Figure 19 Thomas Mann (left) seems rather less than patient at a stuttgart ceremony in honour of Friedrich Schiller; in the centre, Theodor Heuss

210

Germany 1945–1949

10.6. THE PARING OF LANGUAGE In 1947, a new force in German literature emerged: the ‘Group 47’, a name that tended to suggest more than a loose association of individual writers who held occasional meetings. Nevertheless, that is what the group was from its beginning, when Hans Werner Richter (born 1908) sent out the invitations to a first meeting, held in the idyllic surroundings of a Bavarian lakeside in sunny September weather. Those who met in this sanctuary were people who had worked for the magazine Der Ruf (see 7.6., 7.8.), which had had its licence withdrawn; the loss of a forum for journalistic writing had provided the occasion for all those involved to stand back and take a look at their own activities and those of others, focusing on literature rather than journalism, but arriving at conclusions of a general significance. Poetry and prose were read and discussed, but the results of those discussions concerned language in general; the aim was to identify and to discard, bit by bit, what group members called ‘the slave language of the Third Reich’, or ‘calligraphy’ for short, as opposed to a desired ‘clear-cut’ way of writing. While the immediate intention to practise the new style in a new periodical fell through— Der Skorpion failed to get a licence because of, as the authorities put it, ‘nihilism’— the idea of meetings between new German writers survived. Though at first none of the established big names were invited, many of those who attended did in fact become big names in post-war German literature, both in the West and the East. The following document is an extract from Richter’s own account of the first meeting, when this was as yet impossible to predict.

So, we are sitting in a circle on the floor of Use Schneider-Lengyel’s1 living-room, some more lying than standing, we listen, intent, concentrated, and only rarely do we express our agreement or our disapproval by a nod of the head, a laugh, or some kind of gesture. There is no heckling, no interjection. On the chair next to me sits the person whose turn it is to read. This is the way it turned out, it just happened. After the first reading—it is Wolfdietrich Schnurre2— I say: ‘Well, now to the criticism. What have you got to say about that?’ And now begins something which nobody had expected in this form: the tone of critical statements is rough, the sentences short, concise, unambiguous. Nobody minces their words. Every word that was read is weighed, to see if it is still fit to be used, or maybe outdated, consumed in the years of the dictatorship, the time language suffered an enormous wear and tear. Each sentence is, as the saying goes, felt out. Each unnecessary ornament is criticised. Rejected are the big words which mean nothing and, according to the critics, have lost their content: heart, pain, lust, suffering. What endures in the ears of the members are sentences which are concise statements. It is as if Gertrude Stein and Ernest

‘High’ culture

211

Hemingway3 were in the room, unperceived. Dialogue, oral style dominates. ‘Yes’, he said, or ‘No’, and the ‘No’ and the ‘Yes’ endure, but even the next combination of words, ‘Yes, my dear,’4 is rejected with derisive laughter. Who will still say ‘my dear,’ and if he says it, he can still not write it, only ironically, but irony is absent in these early days of starting afresh. Another thing that comes into everybody’s expression unawares, is the language of the ‘trooper’, whose only aim is factual statement, the reduction of language to the essential, a renunciation of the idle motion of pretty words, and a turn towards their immediate relation to reality. They have all learned it as part of the mass of the people among whom they have lived, for years, day in day out, in the companies, in the barracks, in the army camps and the prison camps. In those days, they have constantly lived on the fringe of human existence. That has made them suspicious and keen of hearing. Source: Hans Werner Richter, ‘Wie entstand und was war die Gruppe 47?’, in: Hans A.Neunzig (ed.), Hans Werner Richter und die Gruppe 47 (Munich, 1979) p. 80 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4

Female author linked with the surrealist movement (born 1910) One of the most famous authors of the post-war years (born 1920) Exponents of, in Stein’s own phrase, a ‘lost generation’ of post-World War I American writers (see 10.4.) The German is meine Gute, literally ‘my good one’

10.7. A POSTHUMOUS SUCCESS It is certainly ironic that maybe the most remarkable drama of the post-war years, Wolfgang Borchert’s Outside the Door (Draussen vor der Tür) was not intended for the stage at all, but written as a radio play. Still, this fact makes sense in the context of a generation of writers who want to use language but mistrust it, who want to portray reality but find that it defies description, and who want to express some kind of truth but would doubt any, even a grim one. The result is likely to be art that questions its own status by presenting itself as inartistic, surrounding itself with disclaimers, and choosing the least prestigious and most ephemeral medium; in the case of radio drama, one that does not even require the conscious decision of the listener to be the consumer of a work of art, unlike someone who opens a specific book or goes to see a specific play. There are other reasons, but the spate of German radio plays after 1945 can perhaps be explained mainly by the intrinsic quality of the medium which strips the language of all that is palpable, such as the physical reality of a printed

212

Germany 1945–1949

page, or of actors and a stage, and thereby, paradoxically, makes the listener more aware of that reality which is his own physical existence. The review quoted here shows an awareness of the paradox of reproducing this effect in the theatre, as well as of the paradoxical relationship between real irony and theatrical tragedy; it refers to the first performance of Outside the Door in November 1947.

Shortly before the first performance of his play in the Kammerspiele1 theatre in Hamburg, the poet died in Basle, Switzerland, where his friends had had him taken, sick as he was, to recover. He had called for his relatives and friends when he felt close to death, with whom he had been closely acquainted for a long time, being confined to the sick-bed for years. But he could not do them the favour to recover, and they were equally unable to oblige by coming to him. The questions—‘Won’t anyone answer? Won’t anyone, anyone answer?’ The poet made his hero say that, as far as one can call him a hero, for it is a man who is broken by the ‘heroic duty’ of war. These are the final words of the play Outside the Door. For nearly one minute after the curtain had fallen, there was silence in the theatre, and then thunderous applause. So strong was the shattering effect of this play, which had revealed itself more and more as the biography of a whole generation, and to many also as a self-confession of the poet. He has now died, as lonely as his hero, lonely and ‘outside the door’. Wolfgang Borchert was his name, a man of 26 years of age. And in view of this coincidence of success and death it is almost frivolous to say that contemporary German literature has been deprived of one hope. For what does contemporary German literature matter in the face of the events of our times! Many such emotions could be felt at the first performance. Journalist Peter de Mendelssohn,2 whom Nazi persecution gave the chance to regard the Germans with a detachment that favours objectivity, said recently, in roughly the same words, that all of us had the tendency not to turn problems over in our minds, but on the stage instead, and then to go home content with the notion that nothing more was needed. This may sound severe and negative—but there is a lot of truth in the observation. But now Borchert’s play! If you had not known that it was not intended for the theatre, you would have sensed it immediately, anyway. And strangely enough: those characteristics which are alien to the theatre have made the work no less effective.

‘High’ culture

213

Source: Josef Marein, ‘“Draussen vor der Tür”. Uraufführung der Hamburger Kammerspiele’, in: Die Zeit (27 November 1947)

Notes 1 2

‘Chamber theatre’ Novelist, journalist and translator, born in Germany in 1908; emigrated to Britain in 1935, served in post-war Germany as Press Officer with the Control Commission

10.8. WORDS AND MUSIC A thorough respect for the classical tradition, and sympathy for new artists, but some reservations about new styles: to an extent, this sums up the reaction of large parts of the post-war German public to literature, and it applies even more to the visual arts, and to music. For contemporary composers and painters, the distinction between ‘high’ and ‘low’ art frequently coincided with the borderline between the conventional and the experimental; moreover, the fact that the Nazis had banned modernist art as un-German and ‘degenerate’ seemed to suggest that by the same token, anti-fascist, ‘democratic’ art had to be avantgarde. In painting, sculpture, and music the trend was towards innovation and formal experiment, but the trendsetters failed to take the majority of the audience with them. People would still rather hang a painting of a stag at bay on their living room wall, and listen to a schmaltzy song about Capri fishermen, than give the new stuff a chance; and this goes not only for the working class, but also for large parts of the middle class which saw itself as having an obligation to ‘high’ culture. This, however, most of them would sooner fulfil by occasionally listening to baroque or classical music, and not the works of one of the new German composers; in spite of the fact that the review quoted here reports a success of a post-war symphony, a work by Wolfgang Fortner (born 1907), it speaks from the point of view of an elite part of a select audience, and the language of the article, in its remoteness from the common language of the people, indicates a similar distance between different musical codes of communication.

The highlight of the festival was the performance of Wolfgang Fortners Symphony 1947, which Günter Wand 1 had shortly before premiered in Baden-Baden. The Cologne audience proved themselves able to cope with the novelty which sometimes attacked violently. One single, rash catcall and some whistles of protest were silenced instantly by enthusiastic applause. But however well the audience may have understood, one thing should have communicated itself to every willing listener: that here was a work of high standing, of high moral seriousness, and with a symphonic statement of eminent power.

214

Germany 1945–1949

Indeed, one has to address this symphony which is far stronger, more audacious and more consistent than the one by Pepping2 which was on the radio recently, as the most important post-war work of German modernism so far. In a lecture organised by the ‘Workshop’, and on the programme, Fortner had given some existentially illuminating words to his work, in which the terrors and the state of exposure, but also the hopes of our existence are described as the essential confession of this symphony. But Fortner is not Honegger,3 he is no director of sounds who paints horror and promises soothing, but a constructive symphonic composer with a primarily musical approach. Fortner, the former classicist, has extended the range of his musical language considerably. With baffling audacity, he enters a new sphere of sound, which is filled by a heavy lustre. It is a very firm sound, hard as steel, in which Brucknerian4 German elements appear on the plane of Stravinsky and Bartók.5 Fortner writes in his own, expressive hand. His thematic structure is concise and graphic, of a strong personal innovative power; his form is, in spite of all its variety, consistent and of a vibrating solidity. A huge pathos spends itself in it, and the scintillating rhythm rests in firm joints. Source: Herbert Eimert, ‘103. Niederrheinisches Musikfest in Köln. Die Sinfonie von Fortner’, in: Melos 8/9 (1948) pp. 185 f.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5

Born 1912, pre-1945 conductor and post-war musical director at the Cologne Opera Ernst Pepping (born 1901), German composer of predominantly sacred music Arthur Honegger (born 1892), French Swiss composer of ‘New Music’ The composer Anton Brückner lived in nineteenth-century Austria, which would have suggested the use of ‘Germanic’ rather than ‘German’ for ‘Brucknerian elements’ The Russian composer Igor Fyodorovitch Stravinsky (born 1882), and the Hungarian Béla Bartók (1881–1945)

10.9. THE POPULAR TASTE Apart from film, the novel was the form which was most likely to blur those distinctions between the commercial and the artistic, the ephemeral and the lasting, the popular and the valuable which post-war Germany, on the whole, preserved. Symptomatic for the fundamental divide was the lasting division of music, in radio terms, into E-Musik and U-Musik: either serious (ernst), or entertaining (unterhaltend), a revealing presumption of a dichotomy between two qualities which are not in themselves mutually exclusive. The seemingly descriptive musical labels worked in a normative way as self-fulfilling prophecies, ensuring a survival of the categories; in literature, the lines were not so clearly

‘High’ culture

215

drawn, and in the East as well as the West the novel was the genre which most successfully won popularity for works of literary quality. Curiosity was an important reason for those who were readers of books (cf. 10.4.) to go for the writings of emigrants and foreign authors, and in some cases cross the border from ‘low-brow’ into ‘high-brow’ literature. This border, however, existed in the minds of the readers as well as in the mind of Paul Brewka who wrote the article quoted here (Hessische Nachrichten, 24 December 1948), taking private lending libraries in the town of Kassel in northern Hesse as a parameter for public taste.

In former times, books could be found in every house—but here, too, the war has made ‘tabula rasa’:1 treasured books were burned when the bombs rained down, or they remained in the homes which people were forced to leave. And so, those who used to be the owners of bookcases are now the majority of the community of readers using the private lending libraries and the Municipal People’s Library of Kassel. In Kassel today, there are twenty-two private lending libraries, most of whose owners have joined the trade association founded in the Land. ‘Especially in today’s hard times, when everyone has to think more than twice before parting with his D-Mark, it is of immense benefit to all of us who are not yet in a position to buy the books by our favourite authors, that we can draw on well-stocked lending libraries’—these words from a letter written by a Kassel student underline the importance of the lending library trade. A visit to several lending libraries and to the president of the trade association provided an impression of the appetite for reading, the wishes and the tastes of book lovers. To be economically viable, a lending library needs an absolute minimum of one thousand titles. On average, the Kassel lending libraries have 3,500 to 5,000 volumes. The clients are mostly housewives, whose reading preferences include Ganghofer, Herzog, Schroer, and Marlitt.2 But men and women from all strata of society also show an interest in writers in exile (Werfel, Zweig—Thomas Mann 3 is less in demand) and foreign literature, to which they had no access for decades: Kipling, Kennedy, Hemingway, Rolland, Deeping’s Captain Sorell and his Son, Munthe’s San Michele and Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind4 are always in demand. Political books are less sought after, classics rarely. ‘We want some distraction, escape from everyday hardships’: that was the verdict of readers interviewed, and that was why a

216

Germany 1945–1949

library owner gave up his educational intention of trying to fix the reader up with a really valuable book. Source: ‘“Wir wollen uns ablenken!” Selbst bärtige Familienväter lesen Karl May’, in: Werner Wolf (ed.), Trümmer, Tränen, Zuversicht: Alltag in Hessen 1945–1949. Herausgegeben von Werner Wolf unter Mitarbeit von Harald Edel (Frankfurt/Main, 1986) pp. 347 f.

Notes 1 2

3 4

‘an empty table’ Nineteenth- and twentieth-century German authors of local colour and romantic fiction; Ludwig Ganghofer (1855–1920); Rudolf Herzog (1869– 1943); Gustav Schröer (born 1876); Eugenic John alias Eugenic Marlitt (1825–1887) Presumably the Austrians Franz Werfel (1890–1945) and Stefan Zweig (1881–1942/ suicide), although there was also the German Arnold Zweig (1887–1968); for Thomas Mann, see 6.6. Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936); Margaret Kennedy (born 1896). Remain Rolland (1866–1944), the French pacifist and 1915 Nobel Prize winner; George Wharwick Deeping (born 1877), whose World War I novel Sorrell and Son appeared in 1925; the Swede Axel Munthe (1857–1949), whose autobiographical novel was published in a German translation as Das Buch von San Michele in 1931

11

Parties and trade unions

11.1. FIRST ACTIVISTS Those Germans who saw the Allied victory as a liberation and who were hoping that they would get the chance to have a say in the reconstruction of a new Germany, considered that their chance had come in 1945—for what more could the occupying powers want than people who were willing to tackle the immediate problems at a local level, and lay the foundations of a country run on the basis of a broad anti-fascist consensus to be formally constituted later? Anti-fascist committees sprang up all over Germany, but the activists—mainly but not exclusively working-class people with communist or social democrat beliefs—had counted their chickens too soon. The Antifas, as they were known, were regarded with extreme suspicion by the occupying powers, not only in the Western zones where their left-wing leanings were the obvious reason, but also in the East where it was the fact that they seemed too spontaneous and non-uniform in character to be properly controlled, which was disliked by those with a specific idea of the way things should be going, and who should have the initiative. The Antifas were either closed down or swallowed up by the new administrations authorised by order of the miltary governments. The document quoted here is the programme of an anti-fascist committee in Bremen, dated 6 May 1945, proof of the optimism of the moment which turned out to be unjustified.

The following programme for immediate action is not the programme of one party, but the basis for the agreement of all anti-fascists, regardless of which party they formerly belonged to, to unite in their struggle against fascism. We are well aware of the faults and the incompleteness of this programme for immediate action. But this was inevitable as the demands in this programme were already formulated during the Nazi regime, when discussions in a larger group were difficult, if not impossible to arrange. 217

Figure 20 On the back of such letterhead paper, the Organ der Kampfgemeinschaft gegen den Faschismus appeared in liberated Bremen, two days before the Reich’s surrender

Parties and trade unions

219

The Association for the Struggle Against Fascism,1 which is meanwhile forming in Bremen, has adopted this programme and asks all anti-fascists to take an active part in its realisation. Programme for immediate action, of the Association for the Struggle Against Fascism! I. a) Dissolution of the NSDAP and all its subdivisions. b) Confiscation of all real estate and mobile properties of the NSDAP and its subdivisions. c) Restoration of stolen property to all organisations hostile to fascism. (Party and trade union houses, newspapers, consumer cooperatives, sports and cultural organisations.) d) Complete dissolution of the fascist police and formation of a new police force of reliable anti-fascists. e) Removal of all National Socialists without exception from government and administration. f) Release of all German and foreign political prisoners. g) Immediate restoration of all fundamental democratic rights abolished by the National Socialists. (Freedom of association and strikes, right of assembly, freedom of the press, right to vote in equal, direct, and general elections.) h) Formation of an administrative body based on general elections. (Town council.) Source: Gemeinsam begann es 1945: ‘Der Aufbau’ schrieb das erste Kapital. Originalgetreuer Nachdruck des ‘Aufbau’, Organ der Kampfgemeinschaft gegen den Faschismus (KGF), Bremen 1945/46. Mit einem Vorwort von Pastor Hartmut Drewes und einer Einleitung von Rolf Maier und Karl Unger (Frankfurt/Main, 1978)

Note 1

Kampfgemeinschaft gegen den Faschismus (KFG)

11.2. GREEN LIGHT FOR PARTIES In spite of their mixed feelings about the anti-fascist committees, the Soviet Military Administration were the first to permit the establishment of political parties in their zone. The Order No. 2 of 10 June 1945 provided the basis for the re-establishment of formerly banned parties, and the foundation of new ones with anti-fascist credentials, as well as the establishment of trade unions. Three days later, the Communist Party of Germany KPD (see 2.3.), having been well prepared for the occasion, made its appearance in a changed form compared to its pre-war image. The proclamation of the Central Committee, dated 11 June, emphasised unity of the working population, and kept a low

220

Germany 1945–1949

profile on questions of ideology. This was intended to widen the general appeal of the document and, more specifically, directed at the social democrats as the chosen partners in an anti-fascist alliance which was later to be institutionalised in a united party. The wooing of the Social Democrat Party (see 2.3.) had begun before the SPD was even formally recreated; ironically, the programme announced by the new SPD on 15 June 1945 could even appear as more radically orthodox than the document quoted here.

We are of the opinion that it would be wrong to choose the way of forcing the Soviet system on Germany, for this way is inadequate to the current conditions for development in Germany. Instead, we are of the opinion that the vital interests of the German people in the present situation demand another way for Germany, and that is the way of building an anti-fascist, democratic regime, a republic with a parliamentary democracy, with all democratic rights and liberties for the people. At the current historical turning point, we Communists call all working people, all democratic and progressive elements of the nation to take part in this great struggle for the democratic renewal of Germany, for the rebirth of our country! The most immediate and most urgent tasks on this way are above all: 1 Complete elimination of the remains of the Hitler regime and the Hitler party. Assistance of all honest Germans in tracking down hidden Nazi leaders, Gestapo agents and SS bandits. Complete purge of active Nazis in public office. Apart from the punishment of major war criminals, who will face the courts of the United Nations, most severe punishment by German courts of all those Nazis who have been guilty of criminal offences and the participation in Hitler’s betrayal of the people. Most rapid and most severe measures against all attempts to continue criminal Nazi activity illegally, against all attempts to disturb the creation of law and order, and the normal life of the population. 2 Struggle against hunger, unemployment, and homelessness. All-round active support of the German administration in their effort to secure a normal life as quickly as possible, and to revive production. Completely uninhibited development of free trade and private enterprise initiative on the basis of private property. Effective measures to rebuild destroyed schools, houses, and places of work. Strict economy in administration, and in all public expenditure. Reconstruction of taxation based on the principle of progressive increase in taxes. Ensuring the harvesting of all agricultural products

Parties and trade unions

221

by providing ample help for the farmers. Just distribution of food and basic consumer goods; vigorous struggle against speculation. Source: ‘Aufruf des Zentralkomittees der Kommunistischen Partei Deutschlands’, in: Hermann Weber (ed.), DDR: Dokumente zur Geschichte der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik 1945–1985 (Munich, 1986) pp. 34 f.

11.3. OLD RULES, NEW RULES After the establishment of political parties in the East, the Western Allies, even if there were strong indications of the fact that they themselves would not have been in any particular hurry, had to follow suit fairly quickly, to avoid the impression that they were less eager to reintroduce a democratic system in Germany. By the end of 1945, party organisations existed in all zones at local and district level, and there were supra-zonal conferences, even if those were still formally illegal according to the rules laid down by the military authorities. Members of the new parties were involved in government from Land to municipal level but, as there had been as yet no elections, the degree of their representation was arbitrary, depending on Allied authorisation. To Wilhelm Karl Gerst, the author of the article quoted here from the Frankfurter Rundschau of 3 October 1945, this meant that all existing parties, including the Communists, should be given the chance to participate. Gerst expresses his worry about what he diagnoses as a strategy of minimising Communist influence, suggesting that democracy in post-war Germany should follow a different set of rules from those practised in the Weimar republic. Gerst was one of the seven original licensees of the Frankfurter Rundschau; his license was withdrawn by the US Military Government on 22 October 1946.

In the former Bavarian state government1 there were two Social Democrats, the minister for law Högner2 (minister president since yesterday) and the minister for labour Rosshaupter;3 there was not one Communist minister. Among the district presidents, there is no Communist either. Neither among the leaders of the major municipal administrations. Among the ranks of district and municipal administrations, some Communists have been included, we were told. Exact information was not to be had at the moment. Before 1933, there were not many Communists in Bavaria. Maybe 10 per cent of the voters. On the basis of the proportion of votes, the Communists would have few grounds for claims. This is correct according to the rules of a purely formal democracy, but not according to those of democratic co-operation. As far as we can tell from reports we receive about district and municipal administrations etc. in the Russian zone, these are always composed of representatives of all political opinions, called upon to co-operate.

222

Germany 1945–1949

There is always a representative of the Christian political parties. If there should be one missing somewhere, then this is to be criticised equally, as politically wrong. Co-operation of anti-fascist groups becomes a farce if one group is not asked to participate at all. As long as there is no Communist in the Bavarian state government, it is not even justified to talk about co-operation in the management of government affairs. To profess one’s will to co-operate is then merely a matter of theory. The fact is that the Communists especially emphasise their demand for an involvement of Christian politicians everywhere, and this is put into practice as well, where they are in a position to decide. If one compares this attitude to the current practice in Bavaria, one recognises two diametrically opposed principles. One corresponds to the former practice of Länder parliaments. When in those days two parliamentary parties had at least 51 per cent of the votes, they could by a majority decision bring down the government and form a new government under exclusion of the minority parties. Thus several smaller parliamentary parties could exclude completely a big party which, on its own, had a narrow minority. This party naturally went into opposition, or even obstruction, pushing for new elections. By this method, the Weimar republic was kept in permanent turmoil. By these ‘rules of the game’, the Nazis came to power and smashed the whole democratic ‘game’ shop. In municipal government, a different, better rule was followed. The bench of magistrates, elected by the municipal parliament as a management committee, was not composed of representatives of the current majority, but of representatives of all political groups. Only this method must be valid in the present situation. There must be no administrative body in which an antifascist group is excluded. Not in zonal administrations, not in the districts, and not in the towns. If this principle is disregarded in one district, then the co-operation also in other districts with other formal majorities is put at risk, and thus the whole work of reconstruction. Source: Wilhelm Karl Gerst, ‘Um die Kommunisten’, in: Frankfurter Rundschau (3 October 1945) p. 2

Notes 1

2 3

That of minister president Fritz Schäffer (born 1888), dismissed after differences with the American military government on 28 September, though according to an explanatory note the article was written before the change of government was announced publicly See 2.1. Albert Rosshaupter (born 1887)

Parties and trade unions

223

11.4. ONE PARTY: TWO VIEWS As the new parties debated the future of Germany, it became clear that the choices for the post-war era depended on the interpretations of past events. Even within the same party, these interpretations could be radically different, as within the Christian Democratic Union, where the debate about fundamental issues showed such immense differences of opinion in the analysis of history and the conclusions to be drawn from it, that it was hard to imagine any common denominator. The following documents are extracts from two speeches made on 24 March 1946 by the leader of the CDU in the British zone, Konrad Adenauer (born 1876), and on 16 June 1946 by the CDU leader in Berlin and the Soviet zone, Jakob Kaiser (born 1888). The divergence of views is partly an indication of a split between organisations in the East and West, but these different organisations were not ideologically uniform either, and the debate about what this new concept of ‘Christian democracy’ entailed went on within the limits of zonal boundaries as well as within the framework established by the East-West divide.

National socialism was nothing else but a consequence, pushed to a criminal extreme, of the worship of power and the disregard, even the contempt, of the worth of the individual human being, which results from the materialistic view of the world. In a nation which was thus first prepared mentally and spiritually by the absolute and exaggerated Prussian view of the state, its nature, its power, the unconditional obedience due it, and then by the materialistic view of the world, there was the chance that relatively quickly, favoured by the bad material circumstances in which a large part of the people lived, a doctrine could prevail which knew only the total state and the masses led without a will of their own, a doctrine after which one’s own race is the master race and one’s own nation the master nation, and the other nations inferior, some deserving to be destroyed, but after which even in one’s own race and in one’s own nation the political enemy has to be destroyed at all costs. National socialism has found the strongest spiritual resistance in those catholic and protestant parts of Germany which had in the least degree fallen prey to the doctrine of Karl Marx, socialism!!! This is absolutely certain! Source: ‘24. März 1946: Grundsatzrede des 1. Vorsitzenden der ChristlichDemokratischen Union für der Britische Zone in der Aula der Kölner Universität’, in: Hans-Peter Schwarz (ed.), Konrad Adenauer: Reden 1917– 1967. Eine Auswahl (Stuttgart, 1975) p. 86

224

Germany 1945–1949

If there had been no working-class movement labouring for a century to bring about a structural change in social organisation, if the First World War, and economic and social conflicts in the wake of the first war, had not brought about a levelling of the nation, then Hitler, his war and his collapse alone would have been enough to make the structural change a radical one. If we do not want to become a people whose appearance is marked by recipients of charity, of beggars and proletarians, then we have to profess consciously to a will to structure the body of the nation in a way that lifts the masses of the dispossessed and the immensely impoverished at least to the level of the working people. The entire distribution of property has been shaken by Hitler and his war. The task is to master a situation which is more than critical. This means that even the rest of the people with a bourgeois, property-oriented outlook on life, must reduce their claim to property, to a secure life, to a certain degree of freedom from care, to a minimum. This means that before all cares about individual property, before any priority of securing the privileges of an individual or a limited number of people, comes the care about a minimal degree of living conditions fit for human beings for our people as a whole, the care for the living standards of the whole nation, as far as that is still possible in our present circumstances. To be able to act according to this care, we need a complete reconstruction of our social and economic order, a reconstruction whose essential feature is social concern. Whoever agrees with this—and no Christian and no real democrat can do anything but agree with it—takes a step towards socialism. Source: ‘Um Deutschlands Schicksal: Rede des Vorsitzenden der ChristlichDemokratischen Union Jakob Kaiser in Berlin am 16. Juni 1946’, in: Deutschland und die Union: Die Berliner Tagung 1946. Reden und Aussprache (Berlin, 1946) Wege in die neue Zeit 4, p. 11

11.5. DEMOCRACY ON THE LEFT While in the new Christian Democratic Union CDU, the ideological debate was still connected to the question who would emerge as the front man, that question, by 1946, seemed fairly well settled in the Social Democrat Party. Kurt Schumacher (born 1895), who had spent most of the years of Nazi rule in a concentration camp, had managed to take the lead from his office in Hanover, against possible contestants in Berlin as well as in London, where an executive committee had formed in exile. Hanover provided the location for the SPD

Parties and trade unions

225

convention in May 1946: the SPD as it existed in the Western zones, that is, as in the East the fusion of the SPD with the Communist Party had taken place in April of the same year. In his speech about Tasks and goals of the German Social Democrats’, Schumacher attacked the Communists and the parties of the right for the misuse of the term democracy, giving it a meaning that was rooted in outdated ideological concepts. Schumacher himself was frequently attacked for clinging to antiquated beliefs, and is still seen in that light by many, including the historian Michael Balfour who maintained in a recent book that Schumacher ‘tried to apply to the Germany of 1950 the outlook which he had acquired in the Germany of 1930’. According to Schumacher, in 1946 it was others who were making that mistake.

Especially the leaders of the re-emerging bourgeois parties are still living entirely in the world of pre-1932 ideas. They have as yet no notion of the fact that a world has collapsed, and a new one is working its way out from the ruins. They do not yet realise that their aspirations to government and leadership are invalid and, in effect, completely irrelevant to the German people. Yesterday’s brand of political practice has unfortunately kept only too well in the ice cellar of the dictatorship period. It would have been better if those people’s yellowed manuscripts had got burned, instead of valuable socialist literature. This is particularly clear when we look at the CDU, and how they believe they can exploit the tactical and intellectual position of the former Zentrum.1 They are astonished and frightened, when someone shows them that their special position in the centre no longer allows them to control or even blackmail other parties. I think that many people in Germany still have to learn what democracy is, in its true essence and in practice. I would also like to express a warning concerning the intellectual mobility of the Communist Party, which not only the international press is overestimating. I believe that at this moment, nobody in the world is as over-rated as the Communists. The Communists have only one strength. That is their discipline. But after all, discipline is something that Prussian sergeants had as well. For coping with the new circumstances and for recognising the new situation, the Communists on the whole offer no more than a plethora of decorative terms for the word democracy. But theirs is a democracy mispronounced and misspelt. In politics, one has to not only watch people’s mouths, but their hands, too. It is not the democracy that is proclaimed at public rallies that is crucial for the democratic character of a party, but how this party really behaves in practice.

226

Germany 1945–1949

Figure 21 Konrad Adenauer’s Social Democratic adversary addressing party members in the Festhalle, Berlin, 25 March 1950

Source: Sozialdemokratische Partei Gross-Hessen (eds), Kurt Schumacher: Aufgaben und Ziele der deutschen Sozialdemokratie (Frankfurt, 1946) pp. 6 f.

Notes 1

‘Centre’, Catholic party established in 1870, involved in coalition governments between 1919 and 1933

11.6. ANTI-CAPITALISM FROM THE RIGHT In February 1947, the Christian Democratic Union held a conference of their representatives in the newly created Land of Northrhine-Westphalia, an administrative unit which was an unlikely novelty combining regions with different social structures, dialects, lifestyles, religious and political allegiances. The meeting was considered a forum for decisions on guidelines for the future economic developement of not only the Land, but Germany as a whole. Its importance was underlined by the fact that NorthrhineWestphalia had by far the largest population of all the Länder. It also contained the Ruhr area (see 2.5), the centre of the coal and the steel industry as well as a traditional left-wing stronghold, and the meeting that took place in the town of Ahlen passed a document known as the ‘Ahlen Programme’, which was to reflect the socialist bias of its setting, and to be a constant embarrassment to those parts of the CDU which saw the only path to

Parties and trade unions

227

salvation in a free market economy. The programmatic declaration of Ahlen, of which the first part is quoted here, made clear that whichever party came to determine the future of Germany, there were as yet no foregone conclusions as to the structure of the post-war social organisation in the Western zones in favour of a capitalist economy.

The Ahlen Programme

The zonal committee of the CDU in the British zone, at its conference from 1 to 3 February 1947 in Ahlen, agreed on the following programmatic declaration: The capitalist economic system has failed to do justice to the vital national and social interests of the German people. After the terrible political, economic and social collapse as the consequence of a criminal power policy, the only way ahead can be a basic restructuring. The content and the aim of this social and economic restructuring can no longer be the capitalist desire for profit and power, but only the welfare of our people. Through a public economic order, the German people shall receive an economic and social constitution which does justice to the rights and the dignity of human beings, serves the spiritual and material reconstruction of our nation, and secures internal and external peace. In recognition of this, the party programme of the CDU of March 1946 has put down the following principles: The aim of all economic activity is to supply the needs of the people. The economy has to serve the development of the productive forces of men, and the community. The starting point for all economic activity is the recognition of the individual personality. The freedom of the individual in the economy and in politics are closely connected. The shaping and the management of the economy must not deprive the individual of his personal freedom. Thus the following things are necessary: Strengthening of the economic position and the freedom of the individual; preventing the accumulation of economic power in the hands of individuals, of companies, of private or public organisations which might endanger economic or political freedom. Coal is the crucial product of the entire German national economy. We demand the socialisation of the mining industry.

228

Germany 1945–1949

Source: Das Ahlener Programm: Programmatische Erklärung des Zonenausschusses der CDU der britischen Zone auf der Tagung vom 1. bis 3. Februar 1947 in Ahlen (no place or date of publication) pp. 3 f.

11.7. UNION IDEAS The birth of the trade union movement in post-war Germany took place while the war was still going on: in March 1945 a licence was given to an association based in the Western border town of Aachen, the first major German town taken on the Western front, where an initial application for permission to establish a trade union had been made to the American forces—then refused— even in 1944. By 1948, trade unions were well established in all zones and, in spite of a somewhat less than encouraging view of supra-regional initiatives taken by the Western Allies, had reached a considerable level of organisation. The union stance on democracy was founded on the premise that the lack of democratic control and the high degree of concentration had facilitated the abuse of economic power in support of the Nazi party’s endeavours to become the governing force, and in support of the Nazi regime’s efforts to prepare the country for war. The following document is an extract from a speech made at the second conference of delegates of the union of metal workers (Industriegewerkschaft Metall) in the British zone: the speaker Walter Freitag (born 1889), a union activist before 1933, had been taken to a concentration camp after the Nazis came to power, then blacklisted after his release in 1934, and unable to find work until 1942. In his speech, he outlines an experiment initiated by the British military government as a possible model for the democratic re-organisation of German industry as a whole.

We also refer to the words of the English foreign minister,1 who told us: we have confiscated coal and iron, and we will not give them back to the former owners. Then he added, the German people themselves will have to decide one day, who the owners of the mines and the ironworks should be. We take the victorious powers at their word, we want a change to be brought about, we want a change in the economy, especially in the production of basic materials. We think that it must never be possible again for the masters of coal and iron to rule as they ruled before. This is why we approved of the first initiative by the British military government directed at the deconcentration of combines. It was not our idea. It was the will of the English military government, and in the long run we do not ask in which way a goal is arrived at. We are prepared to talk about the way, if only we know which goal is reached by it. And if the end, the goal is to be what we, too, have in mind, and that is to bring about a socialisation of the means of production in

Parties and trade unions

229

the coal and iron industry, fine, then we will lend a hand and try to sort things out. So, when the English first launched their deconcentration effort and, for a start, took four plants from the heavy industry and set them up as separate company structures, we did not refuse to co-operate. We committed ourselves to coming in and taking a share in the work of preparing the conditions for a change in the heavy iron industry. At first four plants came under deconcentration, and new companies were set up. According to the suggestions made to us by the British, the attempt was made to bring about a democratic structure in these new companies. The directors, technicians and commercial clerks had to be appointed with our votes, and we had approved of two directors and a labour director, a labour director by whom we expect to see a lot of questions solved in the future. We believe that the labour director in the individual companies should become the director who can give us information about the things happening at the plant, who should let us know about everything connected with the plant, and what has to be done there. I know that for quite a number of our friends who have been appointed as labour directors, this task is not an easy one, and it takes a lot of effort, a lot of endeavour and a lot of ability to reach their goal. Source: Niederschrift der Verhandlungen des zweiten Verbandstages der Industriegewerkschaft Metall in der britischen Zone und das Land Bremen2 in Lippstadt, Hotel ‘Drei Kronen’, am 28. bis 30. September 1948 (Mülheim/ Ruhr, undated) p. 19

Notes 1 2

Ernest Bevin (born 1881, Labour) The grammatical inconsistency is in the original title

11.8. A NEW STATE, A NEW SYSTEM? After the proclamation of the Federal Republic came the constitution of the Federation of German Trade Unions (Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund, DGB), previously only existing on a zonal basis (see 5.6., 5.9.), as the parent organisation for the unions in individual branches of industry and commerce. What trade unionists had managed to avoid was a return to the situation before 1933, with rivalling trade unions of different political colourings; however, they had not managed to achieve a unified trade union which had been the commonly accepted aim, but which was in the end denied by the Western Allies. In the East, the corresponding organisation (Freier Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund, FDGB) had a clear stance in support of the official party line, while in the West the unions emerged as a force in opposition to the new

230

Germany 1945–1949

government in which the Christian Democrats had taken the lead, and within that party, those with little time for socialist ideas. The first programme of the DGB was released at a time when the economic recovery in Western Germany was as yet far away from providing the ‘prosperity for all’ which Ludwig Erhard, minister for the economy, promised as the result of market forces. But in 1949, unemployment was still on the rise, and the figures increased with ever-greater rapidity; reason enough for the trade unionists to consider fundamental alternatives to the market economy.

Securing a democratic economic constitution is not only a question of the economic order, but to an equal extent a question of the unconditional and immediate information of the public about all decisive economic facts and processes. The knowledge of these correlations must not be monopolised by a small group of holders of economic power. Therefore the unions demand a substantially extended publicity of political and practical economic activity on the part of administration, economy and finance, through statistics, extensive publication of account books, and other suitable measures. 4. General task: rationalisation in the national economy Systematically, and with full energy, the rationalisation of the national economy is to be pushed ahead as a general task. The industrial production apparatus is to be overhauled thoroughly, to bring it to the highest possible level of efficiency. Research and development need systematic support and subsidies. The distribution and transportation apparatus must be rationalised. The building trade must be completely restructured and industrialised, in view of a lack of five million flats. Rationalisation in a capitalist economy leads to the replacement of people by mechanical power, and thus to the danger of longterm unemployment. In a a systematically planned economy, rationalisation includes the entire economic process, in order to make all forces and all resources serve the goal of an optimum output of the overall economy. It aims for full employment of all those willing to work, so that the highest possible level of production and the increase in buying power will help to raise the common standard of living. Special efforts are needed to raise the productivity of German agriculture. Underdeveloped farms must be—through co-operative management, if necessary—raised to a level of production which corresponds to the demands of modern agriculture.

Parties and trade unions

231

Source: ‘Wirtschaftspolitische Grundsätze des Deutschen Gewerkschaftsbundes. Beschlossen auf dem Gründungskongress des DGB in München, 12.-14. Oktober 1949’, in: Protokoll des Gründungskongresses des DGB (Cologne, 1950) p. 323

11.9. DEMOCRACY IN PRACTICE October 1949 was a busy time in Bonn, whose provisional status as the capital of a provisional state was then still fairly easy to believe in. But the behaviour of the new head of government Konrad Adenauer was everything but tentative, and as for the unity of the nation, the chancellor made it quite clear that this was not one of his major concerns at the time. A declaration to this effect was made at a meeting with representatives of Berlin, who insisted that, in the situation created by the proclamation of two German states, West Berlin needed urgent economic help, and the supreme task for the chancellor was to prepare the re-unification of the country. According to Ernst Reuter (born 1889), the Mayor of West Berlin, Adenauer maintained that it was more important to protect factories from being dismantled, and to stabilise the currency. Decisions about priorities were often taken by Adenauer alone; the chancellor thought things out and then spoke out, as he did concerning an offer of bilateral negotiations that had been made at the proclamation of the East German state on 10 October. After a long silence, on 21 October Adenauer released a statement to the effect that the government of the Federal Republic alone was the legitimate representative of the German people—negotiations were not to take place. During all this, members of Adenauer’s party were only sporadically involved, and often left in the dark as to what was going on. The following letter to Adenauer from Heinrich von Brentano (born 1904) is a good indication of what democratic practice meant to the man who was to rule the Federal Republic for fourteen years.

CDU/CSU1 Parliamentary Party of the Bundestag —The President— Bonn/Rhine, 18 October 1949 Dear Mr Chancellor, After I had advised you by telephone this morning about the meeting of the parliamentary party, and asked you to attend this meeting if possible, I had the chance to talk to you briefly at lunch. On behalf of the presidium of the parliamentary party, I asked you to inform the parliamentary party or its presidium about your talks with the parliamentary party of the SP2 and leading personalities from the city of Berlin, and especially to announce your intentions concerning the procedure at the parliamentary debate on Friday afternoon.

232

Germany 1945–1949

You asked me to be available for a telephone call from about 17.00 hours, as you intended to receive me and a smaller circle of members of the presidium of the parliamentary party, to give us some information. At the meeting of the parliamentary party I could not help noticing that the irritation because of insufficient information was shared by all, but I was able to break off the discussion by referring to the intended talk, and I have called a meeting of the entire presidium of the parliamentary party tonight at 8.30, to report on the results of my talk with you. As I had not received a phone call by 19.00 hours, I phoned your secretary, asking that you be informed of my call. Some minutes ago, my office received a call from your secretary; the message, which makes no sense to me, was that the talk between us had already taken place. Thus I am unable to inform the presidium of the parliamentary party tonight. I ask you, however, to put me, at all events, into the position to report about a talk with you at the parliamentary party meeting tomorrow, Wednesday afternoon, for otherwise, at a time when Herr Prof. Reuter3 has already announced a public press conference, I would be unable to give a good reason for the fact that I have nothing to say about the talks you had concerning this question. I ask you especially to consider the urgency of my request, as it is a matter for the entire parliamentary party. With the assurance of my particular respect, Yours von Brentano Source: Arnulf Baring, Sehr verehrter Herr Bundeskanzler (Hamburg, 1974) p. 35

Notes 1 2 3

Since the first Bundestag of 1949, the two parties have formed a common parliamentary party, on the basis of the CDU’s non-running in Bavaria, the home of the CSU (see 2.7., 4.2.) Sozialdemokratische Partei (see 2.3.) Reuter had been Professor of Municipal Studies in Ankara, Turkey until 1946

Index

17 June 1953 1, 44 20 July 1944 34 Aachen 87, 228 Aachener Nachrichten 115, 165 Adenauer, Konrad 9–11, 17, 20, 28, 70, 136, 223, 231–2 AEG 59–60 Agricola, Rudolf 176 agriculture 114–19, 134, 138, 156–7, 220–1, 230–1 Ahlen 226–7; Ahlen Programme see CDU Ahrens, Werner 207–8 Alain-Fournier, Henri 206–7 Alfter, Fahrbereitschaftsleiter 156 Allendorf 140 Alternative List 3 Alversdorf 136 Ambesser, Axel von 202–3 Andersch, Alfred 162–3 Ankara 232 Anschluss see Austria Antifas 17, 217–19 Armytage, Brigadier 167 Aryans 78, 86 Asbest 141 Assmannshausen 163 Auden, Wystan Hugh 140 Augsburg 101 Augstein, Rudolf 179 Auschwitz 145 Ausländer 6, 41 Austria 32, 46, 54–6, 168, 171, 178, 214 Baader, Andreas 9 Bach, Johann Sebastian 97 Bad Nauheim 77 Bad Segeberg 136 Baden 69, 174;

see also Württemberg-Baden Baden-Baden 213 Balfour, Michael 225 Baltic 129 Barden, Judy 29, 73–5 Bartók, Béla 214 Basic Law 9, 68–9 Basle 212 Bassermann, Albert 133–4 Bavaria 28, 30, 53, 63–4, 69, 77, 92–4, 117, 145, 185, 195–6, 210, 221–2, 232 BBC 46–7, 52, 106 Becher, Johannes R. 133–4 Beckenbauer, Franz 21 Beelitz 45–6 Beethoven, Ludwig van 36–7, 96 Behrend, Hilde 79–81, 86 Bekennende Kirche see churches Békessy, Hans see Habe, Hans Below, Nicolaus von 44 Benn, Gottfried 26, 203–5 Berlin 1, 3–4, 21, 31, 35, 37, 44–6, 48– 9, 57, 60, 67–8, 102–5, 115, 133, 135, 152–4, 174, 181–5, 189–90, 193–4, 197–200, 203, 223–5, 231–2 Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra 133 Berliner Zeitung 181–3 Bernadotte, Count Folke 46–7 Bernstein, Victor 76–7 Bevin, Ernest 67–8, 229 Bewag 104–5 Bible 174, 202 Bipartite Control Office 122 Birmingham 79–81 Bishop, General 177 bi-zonal fusion 67, 83, 117–18, 122, 163–4, 196 blacklists 203–5, 228 black market 25, 101–2, 111–12, 124, 221 Blitzmädels 73–4

233

234

Index

Bochum 120 Boden, Wilhelm 63–4 Böekler, Hans 125–6 Bonn 36–7, 138–40, 231–2 Borchert, Wolfgang 211–13 Borkowski, Dieter 44–6 Bormann, Martin 23, 43–4 Brahms, Johannes 97 Brandenburg 192 Brandes, Georg 203–5 Brandt, Willy 3–4, 132 Brasch, Helmut 183–4 Braun, Eva 43, 45 Braun, Hanns 30, 160–2 Braun, Peter 146 Braunau 44 Brauner, Artur 194 Braunsberg 141 Brecht, Berthold Eugen Friedrich 133–4 Bremen 53, 69, 217–19 Brentano, Heinrich von 231–2 Breslau 2 Brewka, Paul 215–16 Bruckhausen 119–20 Brückner, Anton 214 Brückenau 101 Buchenwald 77, 91 Bund deutscher Mädel 36–7 Bundesbürger 6 Bundestag 231 Bundeswehr 11 Burglengenfeld 92–4 Busch, Wilhelm 208 Byrnes, James Francis 29, 59–60, 113– 14, 137–8 California 138 Camp Sharpe see Psychological Warfare Division capitulation 23, 26, 34–5, 41, 43–4, 165–6 CARE 82, 121 see also relief parcels carnival 195 Casablanca 34 CDU 4, 9, 11, 20, 29–30, 64–5, 223–8, 230–2 Christmas 190–3 churches 96, 223; Bekennende Kirche 90; Protestant 24, 90–2; Reichskirche 90; Roman Catholic 25, 90, 93, 226 Churchill, Winston Leonard Spencer 11, 23, 34–5, 52, 55, 65, 67, 162 Clay, Lucius Dubignon 31, 53–4, 77–8 coal 114–15, 122, 137–8, 154, 226–9 Coal Control Group 122–3 Cohen, Georg see Brandes, Georg cold war 22, 65

Colne 84 Cologne 25, 101–2, 163, 213, 223 Comintern 141 Communists 20, 29, 31, 56–8, 77, 93, 145, 162, 165, 176, 200, 217, 219– 21, 225 Conservative Party 68 Control Commission 88–9 Control Council 62, 67–8, 121 cooking 15–16, 110–11, 185–6, 195–6 Cottbus 165 crime 15, 25, 101–3 CSU 64, 93, 221–2, 231–2 currency reform 67–8, 121–1, 215 Dachau 77, 91, 144–5 Danube 23, 43, 92 Danzig 127, 141 Darmstadt, Darmstädter Echo 123–4 deconcentration 228–9 Deeping, George Wharwick 215 Defa 188–90, 194 Defoe, Daniel 51 ‘degenerate’ art 213 Degenhardt, Franz Josef 96 demilitarisation 12, 15 Democrats 77 denazification 13, 17, 29, 32, 76–7, 88, 100–1, 203–5 Detmold 154 Deutsche Arbeitsfront 40, 218 Deutsche Volkspartei 65 Deutsche Volkszeitung 165, 200–1 Deutschlandlied 84–6 DFA, DFB 196–8 DGB 125–6, 229–30 Diese Woche 25, 179, 190–2, 205–7 Dietrich, Johann Gottlieb see Braun, Hanns dismantling, demontage 66, 82, 98–9, 119–20 Döblin, Alfred 173–5 Dönitz, Karl 22–3, 43, 54, 49–51 Donnersmarck, Graf von 59 Dortmund 120, 177 DPD 115–17 Dresden 2, 165 DRK see Red Cross Druckspiegel, Der 168 Düren 87–8 Düsseldorf 79–81, 88, 105, 115, 120 Duisburg 120 dystrophy 140–1 East Prussia 127 EC 4

Index

235

Eckhart, Werner 98–100 Eden, Robert Anthony 67–8 Ehard, Hans 63–4 Ehlershausen 38 Einstein, Albert 203 Einstein, Carl 203–4 Eisenhower, Dwight David 77–8 emigrants 29, 132–4, 138–40, 205, 215– 16, 224 Endsieg 127 Erhard, Ludwig 231 Erpenbeck, Fritz 200–1 Essen 117, 120 European Recovery Programme see Marshall Plan Evangelical Press Society 94–5 expellees 2, 26, 58, 134–6, 143–5 Fahrbereitschaft 156–7 fashion 175, 197 FDGB 230 FDP 65, 176 Fechner, Max 59–60 Feindbild 5 fiction 16, 24, 46, 146–7, 205–7, 214– 16 film 181–3, 188–90, 193–4, 214 Finck, Werner 183 Flak 38, 44–5, 102 Flechtheim, Alfred 203–5 Flensburg 46, 49–51 Flieg, Helmut see Heym, Stefan Florence 97 Flügel, Rolf 25, 195 forced labour 41 Fortner, Wolfgang 213–14 Frahm, Herbert see Brandt Willy Franconia 101 Frankfurt/Main 77, 157, 162, 172 Frankfurter Hefte 177–9 Frankfurter Presse 172 Frankfurter Rundschau 172, 221–2 Freitag, Walter 228–9 Friedland 136 Friedmann, W. 60–2 Frings, Joseph 25, 102 Frisches, Haff see Haff Fritsche, Hans 47 Fröhlich, Gustav 194 Frontpost 165 Fulda 101 Fussball-Sport-Forum 196–8 Fyfe, Christopher 88–90, 105–7 Ganghofer, Ludwig 215–16 Gau 38, 40, 167–8 Gayre of Gayre and Nigg, Robert 21

Genscher, Hans Dietrich 4 German American Writers’ Association 132 German People’s Council 68 Gerst, Wilhelm Karl 221–2 Gestapo 110–11, 220 Gettysburg 173 glasnost 5 Goebbels, Joseph 44–5, 47 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 96–7 Goldene Tor, Das 173–5 Gollancz, Victor 29, 36, 83, 86–8 Göppingen 192 Gorbachev, Mikhail 12 Graf, Oskar Maria 133–4 Green Party 8 Grimm, brothers 88–9 Grotewohl, Otto 59–60, 85–6 Gruppe 47 210–11 Habe, Hans 168, 171–3 Haff 128–9, 143 Hagen 120 Hallstein, Walter, Hallstein doctrine 9–10 Hamburg 68, 89, 101, 150–2, 163, 167, 206, 212–13 Hamstern 101–2, 153 Handt, Postamtmann 150–1 Hanover 37–9, 224 Havel 49, 192 Havel, Vaclav 5 Hay, Julius 200–1 Heiligenbeil 127 Heine, Fritz 66–7 Helmstedt 135 Hemingway, Ernest 206–7, 211, 215 Hermann, Egon 144–5 Hermann-Neisse, Max 133–4 Herz, John H. 100–1 Herzog, Rudolf 215–16 Hesse 69, 101, 122, 148, 195, 215 Hessische Nachrichten 215–16 Heuss, Theodor 176, 209 Heym, Stefan 16, 172 Himmler, Heinrich 46–7 historians’ debate 13 history workshops 16 Hitler, Adolf 1, 22–3, 32–4, 41–3, 55, 84, 92–4, 132, 145, 165–6, 187, 203, 220, 224 Hitler-Jugend see NSDAP Hoechst 122 Höcker, Wilhelm 63–4 Hoegner, Wilhelm 53, 221 Hoffmann, Oberstleutnant 45

236

Index

Hoffmann, Walter 27, 146–7 Hoffmann von Fallersleben, August Heinrich 86 Hohner, Matthias 192 Holstein 38 Honegger, Arthur 214 Horst-Wessel-Lied 84–6 House of Commons 34–5, 67–8, 83 Hüsch, Hanns Dieter 20 Hynd, John B. 83–4 IG Metall 228–9 Infas 7 inflation 121 ‘inner’ emigration 96, 133 Ipswich 84 Iserlohn 40–3, 83–4 Jacobi, Werner 83–4 Jerusalem 205 Jews 78–9, 100, 132, 140, 187, 203 Joan of Arc 140 Johannmeier, Willi 42–3 John, Eugenic see Marlitt, Eugenie Johnstone, Alice 127–9 Jülich 86–8 Jünger, Ernst 22, 24, 37–9 Junker 59–60 Kästner, Erich 24, 46–7, 172 Kaisen, Wilhelm 53 Kaiser, Georg 208 Kaiser, Jakob 12, 223–4 Kaliningrad see Königsberg Kalawsk see Kohlfurt Kasack, Hermann 110–11, 152–4 Kassel 100, 215 Keller, Leutnant 45 Kennedy, Margaret 215–16 Kind, Enno 189 Kipling, Rudyard 215–16 Kirchhorst 37–8 Kleiner Gustav 103–5 Knappen, Marshall 76–7 Knorr, Hermann 176 Koblenz 163 Königsberg 2, 127 Kogon, Eugen 177–9 Kohl, Helmut 203, 6, 8–9, 33 Kohlfurt 135–6 Kolbenhoff, Walter see Hoffmann, Walter kolkhoz 141–3 Koppehel, Karl 196 Kraft durch Freude 154 Krefeld 120

Krenz, Egon 5 Kulturbund zur demokratischen Erneuerung Deutschlands 134 labour directors 229 Labour Party 65–6, 86–8 Länder 53–4, 63–5, 68–70, 126, 215, 221–2, 226–7 Lamprecht, Gerhard 194 Landsberg 145 Lang, Fritz 188, 194 Langenfass, Friedrich 24, 94–5 Lasker-Schüler, Else 203–5 Leamington 67 Lebensraum 134 Left Book Club 36 Lehmann, toy manufacturers 192 Leiser, Ernest 144–5 Lensing, Lambert 170–1 Letmathe 41 liberals see FDP libraries 215–16 licensed press 166–7, 170–7, 210, 221 Linz/Danube 23, 44–5 Linz/Rhine 163 Löhning, General 38–40 London 47, 60, 83, 88, 115, 126, 134, 224 Lorenz, Heinz 42 Lower Saxony 69, 117 Lübeck 135–6 Lüdemann, Hermann 64–5 Luftbrücke 31, 67 McClure, General 172–3 Märklin, toy manufacturers 192 magazines 173, 177–8, 210 Maier, Reinhold 64–5 Maizière, Lothar de 9 Majdanek 145 Mann, Erika 140 Mann, Thomas 29, 133, 138–40, 209, 215–16 Mannheim 78–9 Marburger Presse 129–30 Marienthal 136 Marlitt, Eugenic 215–16 Marshall, George Catlett, Marshall Plan 28, 31, 66, 119, 125–6 Marx, Karl, marxism 165, 223 Masuren 128 Mayrhofen 46 Mecklenburg 64 Meinecke, Friedrick 24, 95–7 Meinhof, Ulrike 9 Melbourne 60 Memelland 3

Index

237

Mendelssohn, Peter de 212–13 Menzel, Walter 65–7 Mercedes 157 Middle Ages 94–5 Miller, Alice 18 missing persons 73, 129–32 Mitchell, Margaret 215 Mitläufer 100–1 Medrow, Hans 8, 33 Möllenhoff, Else 79 Montgomery, Bernard Law 71 Morgenthau, Henry 29, 94, 108–9 Moscow: conference 55, treaty 2 Mühlenbeck-Prenzlau 45 Müller, Gustax 42 Münchner Tagebuch 160–2 Munich 55, 63, 77, 91, 144, 157, 160–2: Munich treaty 145, 172, 187–8, 195–6 Munthe, Axel 215 Murnau, F.W. 188 National Democrats 13 NATO 4–5, 12 Neher, Caspar 110–11 negroes 78–9 Nehrung 141–2 Nelson 84 Neue Zeitung, Die 132–4, 169–71, 177 Neues Deutschland 58, 189–90 neutrality 12 New Forum 6 New Leader 133 New York 73, 77, 134 News Review 179 Niemöller, Martin 90 Nikoldswalde 141 non-fraternisation 71–5, 197 Normalverbraucher 83, 114–15 Northrhine-Westphalia 53, 65, 69, 119, 226 Nossack, Hans-Erich 28, 109–10, 152 Nothilfe 117 Nuremberg 101, 192: Nuremberg trials 44, 47, 49, 77, 220 NSDAP 36–8, 40, 44, 84–6, 92–4, 100– 1, 106, 168–9, 184–5, 190, 200, 219–20 Observer, the 87 Oder/Neisse border 3, 24–6, 58–9 Oertel, Professor 138–40 Österreich, Axel Eugen von see Ambesser, Axel von OK-Mann 141–3 Oktoberfest 195–6 OMGUS 78–9, 92–4, 163–4 Opel 157

opera 143, 177 Orwell, George 19, 65 Pajok 84 Pakenham, Lord 65–6, 115 Patenschaften 82, 129 Patton, George Smith 29, 75–7, 100 Paul, Rudolf 63–4 peace movement 8 Pennsylvania 173 Pepping, Ernst 214 perestroika 5 Perl, Major 41 Peters, N. 140 Phillips, Morgan 87–8 Pieck, Wilhelm 56, 59–60, 85–6 Pirkensee 92–4 Plötzensee 183–5 Political Science Quarterly 100–1 popular music 187, 213–14 Post Meridian 76–7 Potsdam 46, 152–4: Potsdam agreement 53, 58, 60, 113–14 Pour le mérite 37 PoWs 26–7, 44, 102, 129–30, 136–8, 140–3, 146–7, 157, 159, 194 Prague 134, 145 Protestant Church see churches Prussia 30, 37, 44, 55, 223, 225 Psychological Warfare Division 165, 173 radio 47, 166, 211–15 see also BBC Rafael 97 rationing 29, 83–4, 102–4, 109–11, 114– 16, 121–2, 155, 221 rearmament 11 Recklinghausen 125 Red Cross 47, 117, 129–31, 137 re-education 28, 30, 88–9, 165, 170–1, 181–2, 203–5 Regenbogen, Der 102–3 Regensburg 92–4 Reichsbahn 155–6 Reichskirche see churches Reichspost 163 Reichstag 48 relief parcels 29, 79, 82, 121, 187–8 Renaissance 94–6, 202 reparations 68, 119–21 repatriation teams 135 Republicans 7, 13; US 77 reunification 3, 9 Reuter, Ernst 231–2 Reuter, news agency 115 Rheingau 162–3 Rhein-Neckar-Zeitung 176

238

Index

Rhine, Rhineland 35–6, 71, 79–80, 86, 155, 162, 195, 231 Rhineland-Palatinate 64, 69 Richter, Hans-Werner 159–60, 162, 210–11 Rio de Janeiro 165 Robertson, Brian Hubert 68 Robinson Crusoe 51 Rössel 127–8 Rolland, Romain 215 Roman Catholic church see churches Rommel, Erwin 21, 37 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano 34, 67, 108 Rosshaupter, Albert 221–2 Rostock 59 Rowohlt, Ernst; Ro-Ro-Ro 205–7 Rühmann, Heinz 181–3 Ruf, Der 159–60, 162–3, 210–11 Ruhr 35, 40–1, 60, 66, 122–3, 162, 226–7 Rustemeyer, Fritz 83 Rzhevskaya, Elena 23, 48–9 Saarland 67, 101 St Germain, treaty of 56 Salvation Army 117 Sartre, Jean-Paul 110 Schäffer, Fritz 222 Schiller, Friedrich 42, 140, 207–9 Schlange-Schöningen, Hans 118–19 Schleswig-Holstein 64, 69 Schneider-Lengyel, Use 210–11 Schnurre, Wolfdietrich 210–11 Schröer, Gustav 215–16 Schuco, toy manufacturers 192 Schuldbekenntnis 90–2 Schumacher, Kurt 56, 65–7, 224–6 Schuschnigg, Kurt von 54 Schwerin 59 Schwerin-Krosigk, Johann Ludwig Graf 47 SED 30, 44, 56–8, 64, 84–5, 176, 220, 225 Selby, Walford 55–6 Sellar and Yeatman 14 Semler, Johannes 29 Seyss-Inquart, Arthur von 55 Shakespeare, William 97, 202 Siberia 45, 48, 141–2 Sickerheitsdienst 100–1 Sicily 77 Siemens, Werner von 103–4 Silesia 3, 59 Silverman, Samuel Sydney 84–5 Simpl, Der 187–8 Skorpion, Der 210 Smith, R.G. 139

Social Democrats 3, 20, 30–1, 56–8, 64– 6, 76, 83, 86–8, 93, 176, 217, 220–1, 224–6, 232 Sondergerichte 100–1 Spadauer Volksblatt 194 Speisekammergesetz 117 Spiegel, Der 179–80, 193–4 Spree 49 Springer, Axel 172 SS 43, 46–7, 220 Staatsvertrag 56 Stalin, Josef 10, 20, 48, 67 Staudte, Wolfgang 181, 188–90 steel 114, 119–20, 155, 226–8 Stein, Gertrude 211 Sternheim, Carl 203–5 Stettin 135–6 Stokes, Richard Rapier 84–5 straitjacket syndrome 141 Stravinsky, Igor Fyodorovitch 214 student revolt 8, 12–13 Stuttgart 53–4, 90–2, 113 Sudetenland 144–5 Suhrkamp, Peter 152–4 Sun, the 73 Sverdlovsk 141 Tägliche Rundschau 165 Tanguy-Prigent, Pierre 138 Taunus 157 Tehran conference 66–7 Templer, Walter Robert 154–6 theatre 140–2, 200–2, 207–8, 211–12 Thuringia 64 Thyssen, August 119–20 Time 179 Times, The 167 Trevor-Roper, Hugh 43 Trizonesien 187 Trümmerfilm 25, 189–90, 193–4 Tucholsky, Kurt 206–7 Tyrol 47 Ufa 152–4, 181 Ulbricht, Walter 17, 20, 44, 56–8 Ulenspiegel 174 Ullstein, Heinz 203–5 U-Musik see popular music Untermenschen 134 Upper Palatinate 102 Valenciennes 137 Valentin, Karl 29, 187–8 Vaszary, Johann von 194 Vatican 90 VE Day 23–4

Index

239

Velden 91 Vergangenheitsbewältigung 17 Vienna 55, 101 Vogel, Hans 66 Völkischer Beobachter 168–70, 184–5 Volksgenossen 85–6 Volkssturm 38–40 Volkswagen 154, 157 Vorarlberg 47 VWG see bi-zonal fusion WAC 73–5 Waldheim, Kurt 32, 55 Wallenberg, Hans 132–4, 172 Walter, Bruno 133–4 Wand, Günter 213 Warsaw: treaty 2; Pact 5 Warwick 67 Watzlawick, Paul 11 Wedekind, Frank 208 Wehrmacht 38, 40, 55, 74, 103, 127, 130, 165 Weidenreich, Peter see Wyden, Peter Weilheim 92–4 Weimar 77; Weimar Republic 57, 221–2 Weiskopf, Franz Carl 132–4 Weiss-Ferdl 183 Welt, Die 66–7 Wenck, General 45–6 Wendehälse 21 Werder 152

Werewolves 22, 37, 40, 148 Werfel, Franz 215–16 Westdeutsches Volksecho 176–7 Westphalia 83 see also Northrhine-Westphalia Weyl, Johannes 205 Widow Bolte 208 Wiesbaden 156–7, 163 Wiesbadener Kurier 156–7 William Tell 3 Winnie the Pooh 88–9 Winter, Anni 43–4 Wirtschaftliche Flüchtlingspartei 58 Wirtschaftswunder 121–3 Witten 120 Woderich, Adolf 140–3 Wolf, Friedrich 133–4 women 15–16, 98–100, 102–3, 122 Wroclaw see Breslau Württemberg-Baden 65, 69 Württemberg-Hohenzollern 69 Wuppertal 115–16 Wyden, Peter 172–3 X Day 121–2 Yalta conference 66–7 Zander, Standartenführer 42–3 Zeit, Die 167–8 Zentrum 225 Zuckmayer, Karl 208 Zweig, Arnold 216 Zweig, Stefan 215–16