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Midwest Diplomats |
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| George F. Kennan | |
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William E. Dodd—the U.S. Ambassador to Germany from June 1933 to December 1937—left the comfortable halls of academia to serve his country in the “New Germany,” only to find that position the most frustrating, hopeless assignment of his life. A naturally optimistic, decent man, Dodd failed to find effective ways to respond to Nazi tyranny and in the process he became the mockery of President Roosevelt’s State Department. His daughter Martha—an eager if not impetuous, naive young woman upon her accompanying her parents to Berlin in 1933—repeatedly found her views and values challenged by what she found in the Third Reich. Unable to any longer see life in simplistic terms, she discovered that as a U.S. American, she held a worldview mostly not shared in cultures other than her own—and that worldview would mark her for the rest of her life. | George F. Kennan served in the U.S. Embassy in Berlin during the first two years of World War II. Having grown up in Socialist Milwaukee, the liberal Kennan found in Hitler’s Germany the antithesis of his most cherished values of human liberty, social well-being and respect for life. Curious about the existence of the underside of German society in the Third Reich, appalled by the German invasion of its neighbors and intrigued by several memorable exceptions to the “typical” Nazified German, Kennan found in Germany many reasons for cynicism about the human condition. Throughout his stay and eventual internment, however, he retained an unfailing belief in the ultimate goodness of people—a belief shared by many of his compatriots. |
Background Essay: The Setting: Germany, 1918-1933 Germany’s fate
following the end of the First World War hardly could have been any more
different from that of the United States. While Britain, France, Czarist
Russia, Austria, Italy and the other warring nations each played a role in
spilling wholesale destruction on what had appeared to be a thoroughly
civilized continent, Germany received the bulk of the blame for the mess
when it was over. During four years of global war, the world’s major
powers each slugged out their quests for supremacy in the trenches; in the
end, however, Germany paid the highest price for a war that had essentially
begun by “accident.” Immediately following the First World War, Britain
and France attempted a return to business as normal. Germany, however,
enjoyed no such luxury. For almost a decade and a half following German
capitulation, Germany’s economy staggered under an impossible debt
assessed to it by the Allies as war reparations. In the vacuum created by
the Kaiser’s fall, the citizenry sunk in a fierce struggle for power.
Unused to genuine self-rule, a revolution broke out after a proposed
constitutional monarchy failed at the war’s end and various political
factions began an ugly match for control of the country. Finally, after
complex politicking, Paul von Hindenburg—a member of the former royalist
government—and Friedrich Ebert, a Social Democrat, formed the Weimarer
Republic in February 1919. The collapse of German national pride, street
violence and crumbling parliamentary coalitions marked the early years of
the precarious Weimarer Republic. At the Versailles treaty table, a helpless
interim German government accepted the terms of a forced peace that left the
German people indignant. Besides signing a war-guilt clause accepting
complete responsibility for the war, the German delegation watched as the
Allies seized all German colonies and carved off German territories with a
combined population of over seven million people. Incredulous of the terms,
the German people widely believed their government had been tricked into
signing such a shameful armistice. Swayed by charges made by dejected
monarchists and the military, many Germans believed the lie that the
Kaiser’s army had never been defeated, but instead had been stabbed in the
back by the “November criminals”: Republicans, Socialists and Jews.
Guilty by association, the Weimarer regime never fully gained the confidence
of the German people. The Weimarer coalition government remained a shaky
one for all of its brief life. Attacked from both the Left and the Right, it
attempted to establish a liberal, capitalist democracy in a country with a
traditionally conservative, authoritarian legacy. In the open-season climate
of weak Weimarer rule, Communists and the Freikorps—Volunteer
Corp—fought each other on the streets of Berlin. A coup d’etat failed in
1920, followed by political assassinations and revolving party mergers. The
value of the Mark dropped precipitously, bread lines formed and civil war
threatened to engulf Germany. Finally, a squawking little Austrian by the
name of Adolf Hitler and his small Nationalsozialistische Deutsche
Arbeiterpartei—National Socialist German Workers’ Party, or
“Nazi”—movement staged an aborted revolt in Munich. The acting prime
minister, Gustav Stresemann responded to the county’s crises by
suppressing further coup attempts and issuing a new national currency, the
Rentenmark. After years of social turmoil, events in Germany
finally calmed. A team of British and U.S. officials met to reschedule
Germany’s war debt, and the signing of the Locarno Pact—in which Germany
renounced claims to Alsace-Lorraine and other contested borders—opened the
way for Germany’s entry into the League of Nations in 1928. Large foreign
investments rejuvenated the German economy; wages rose and unemployment fell
to one million. Centrist parties dominated the Reichstag and former agitants
grew quiet. Peace and prosperity, however, were short-lived. The
crash of the New York Stock Exchange in late 1929 triggered a sudden global
depression. Because Germany’s recovery had depended upon foreign credits,
when they ceased and previous loans were called in, the German economy
slumped: Germany’s foreign trade shriveled, industry sacked workers, wages
shrunk and bankruptcies spread like mushrooms after a spring rain. Overseeing the second national crisis to wreck
Germany in a single decade, centrist pro-Weimarer parties could not sustain
popular support, making way for Left and Right extremist parties to quickly
ascend to power. While Communists rose to be the third largest party in
Germany, the once-obscure Nazi Party ranked as the largest. The Nazis did
not have a clear mandate to rule, but because the single-minded Nazis were
better organized under Hitler’s strict leadership than the constantly
bickering Communists, the clever Nazis managed by 1933 to take advantage of
the liberal Weimarer regime’s own rules and almost effortlessly overthrow
it. Presenting itself in a time of exaggerated, desperate
need, many Germans found in the Nazi Party a simplistic response to the
country’s ills. Directed by Hitler’s masterful demagoguery, the Nazis
represented an alternative to both the feeble “leadership” provided by
Weimarer democrats and the prospect of a Soviet-sponsored dictatorship of
the proletariat. Using as their Bible the twisted musings of their angry,
hateful leader recorded in Mein Kampf, the Nazis appealed to the
latent nationalism of the German people and manipulated their desire to
reassert their collective power. The Nazis stressed the need for individual
subordination to the state, but in return offered a paternalism promised to
provide for the needs of all “true” Germans—a distinction which
excluded Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals, Communists and all others the regime
decreed “enemies of the state.” Nazi leaders publicly decried pacifism,
liberal democracy and humanitarianism; concurrently, they touted militarism,
hatred against dissident elements, national territorial expansion and
unquestioning obedience to Nazi tenets. While Fascist movements occurred simultaneously in
Italy, Spain and to lesser extents in France, Britain and the United States,
National Socialism grew out of German cultural and political history. The
eighteen-century Prussian kings Frederich the First and Frederich the Second
cultivated a mystic of “Blut und Eisen”—“blood and
iron.” They elevated militarism and the icons of Teutonic culture into
veritable religions. In doing so, they established a tradition where the
Prussian army provided a cultural model for German civic as well as private
life. They reinforced a class system based largely on aristocratic and
military lines where the monarchy, the army and the aims of the state
scarcely could be distinguished. Ultimately—under the shrewd, autocratic
direction of Kaiser Wilhelm the II and his main general, Otto von
Bismarck—Prussian society would give birth in 1871 to a unified Germany.
Where before Germanic peoples lived in hundreds of disjointed city-states
and principalities, Bismarck founded the German nation. Following the chauvinistic examples of Prussia’s
Hohenzollern kings, nationalist philosophers such as Frankfurt’s Arthur
Schopenhauer painted humanity in only the darkest light, reaffirming popular
belief in the depravity of humankind and intimating the necessity for
draconian rule. Meanwhile, Friedrich Nietzsche went on to name the
underlying nihilistic Angst of the German soul and suggest the need
for German cultural collectivism. Men like historian Oswald Spengler
maintained that the “law of societies” involves cyclical rises and falls
of nations; he concluded that western civilization had entered a period of
decay which only those with clear vision could save through forceful action.
His contemporary, cultural critic Arthur Moeller also prepared the
intellectual ground for Nazism, as he christened the “Third Reich” and
insisted on the existence of an innate German superiority over others based
on unscientific psychological types. Kings and men of letters, however, weren’t the only
ones to propagate German nationalism or blend it with empty dogma based on
“race” .The composer Richard Wagner propounded the idea of a Nordic
superhuman—the blonde “Aryan” of ancient Teutonic lore—and of a
German Volk, a people set apart from all others by virtue of their
“race” and history. In the early decades of the twentieth century,
German youth leaders declared visions of Gemeinschaft—true
community—as the foundations of a quasi-mystical rebirth of the nation.
They enthusiastically sold to an eager public romantic images of leadership
and camaraderie as antidotes to rationalism and stultifying bourgeois
values. Capitalizing upon old prejudices against non-Aryans,
nineteen-century German nationalists of all sorts pointed to an alleged
“Jewish problem” and they claimed without reservation the right to
expand Germany’s political boundaries over lands currently occupied by
Slavs. Europe in the late nineteen-century whirled with
dizzying claims by proponents of various ideologies and political agenda. A
social misfit with dubious ancestry and a childhood marked by abuse, Adolf
Hitler’s encounter with some of the movements occurring at that time
helped form the basis of what would become official Nazi ideology. An
unsuccessful architect-turned-postcard-painter, Hitler drifted through
prewar Viennese society and listened to the likes of Karl Luger, the
organizer of an anti-capitalist and anti-Semitic movement for poor Catholic
youth—a movement which was both politically radical yet loyal to the
ruling Hapsburgs. Hitler also found inspiration in the form of Georg von
Schoenerer’s pan-Germanic, anti-aristocratic rantings and the
labor-organizing work of Schoenerer’s disciple Karl Hermann Wolf. Wolf
founded a workers’ party for Sudeten Germans in the Czech state of
Bohemia, which bore the name Deutsche National-Sozialistische
Arbeiterpartei—the namesake for Hitler’s own subsequent party. Out of the historical aggregate of German
nationalism, anti-Semitism and political dogma, Hitler designed a peculiar
ideology that suited his own grandiose ambitions. In the name of pan-Germanism
and German superiority, he advanced his claims for territorial expansion and
hegemony. Hitler courted restless Prussian military leaders who saw the
Versailles Treaty as a mere obstacle to the German campaign for Lebensraum—living
space—and fed the German people fanciful yet fanatical drivel about the
purported “mission” of the German “master race.” Hitler offered a badly beaten country an
anesthetizing potion against frustrated national aims and an insidious
inferiority complex—and in the process assured his own ascendancy to
Germany’s leadership. Utilizing the brilliant propagandists and menacing
ruffians who populated his party, the would-be Fuehrer pointed to a
purported Bolshevik threat while at the same time plotting his own
dictatorship. As the National Socialists gained increasing numbers of votes
in German elections, Hitler used force to intimidate—and later completely
silence—his opponents. Taking
advantage of mass psychology and the new electronic media, Hitler
apportioned all of Germany’s problems to one enemy—the easily targeted
Jew—and embodied for the nation its desire to regain lost pride through
full employment, stability, rearmament and international respect. Declaring
Ein Volk, Ein Land, Ein
Fuehrer (“one people, one
country, one leader”), Hitler oversaw the transformation of his Nazis from
a ragtag underground movement in Munich to supreme rulers looking out over a
revitalized German Reich from the Berlin’s halls of government. Against
formidable odds, the Nazis won absolute power in Germany. Once the joke of both urban intellectuals and
provincial officials, when Hitler took office in 1933 he seized the means to
institutionalize what earlier had been mere political theorizing. After the
fall of the Weimarer government, Germany underwent nothing less than a Nazi
revolution. The Nazi Party and the regime became indistinguishable. The
Nazis found in the people the support needed to practice their policies
based on racism and megalomania, while the people found in the fully
installed Nazis the means to restore their precious Ordnung—order—and
express frustrated German nationalism. Giving the Schutzstaffeln
(or “SS”) unlimited “freedom of the streets,” Hitler came to
dominate every aspect of political life in Germany, as well as much of the
private lives of its people. In the totalitarian police state that he and
his thugs created, schools and universities, the media, theater and the arts
became organs of the state. These bodies, along with the compulsory Hitler
Youth, strove to indoctrinate the population—especially the
children—with Nazism. Both Catholic and Protestant churches came under the
scrutiny of the state-run German Church Organization. Initially under the
guise of creating work brigades as an alternative to unemployment, the Nazis
also began secretly rearming the country. With German society firm in hand
and rearmament underway, then, Hitler began his brisk march toward war.
For a Thousand Years The Second World
War affected human history as few other events have. While its ultimate cost
in material resources and human lives (with a death toll of some 55 million)
was devastating, the war determined much of the social, economic,
technological and political conditions for the Modern Age—conditions which
will shape a recently-wrought global culture well into the thousand years
during which Hitler had promised the now-extinct Third Reich would rule. The United States
emerged from the war not only undamaged, but invigorated by its own wartime
mobilization and the collapse of British and French empires. The U.S. was
the only great industrialized country to escape the war structurally intact,
it experienced an incredible postwar boom that provided most of the wares
for Europe’s initial reconstruction and further developed both domestic
and foreign markets. In the decades following the war’s end, the U.S.’
economy greatly expanded, its people settled into the quiet realm of family
life and personal business, and as a nation assumed a new role as a world
superpower. As had the
First World War, the Second World War vastly altered U.S. culture and
history—but this time on an even larger, more lasting scale. Like the
first armistice, the second end of hostilities found the U.S. economy
injected with renewed vitality and the U.S. government as the inheritor of
increased international status. In both instances, the populace generally
sought psychological distance from the horrors of war and the intimidating
responsibilities of world power. After the fall of the Nazi and Japanese
empires, however, a complete return to the prewar status quo was impossible.
While isolationism affected domestic U.S. politics, it did not dictate the
government’s foreign policy as it did after the First World War: This time
there would be no chance to return to “business as usual,” as the United
States agreed to play a primary role in the newly-created United Nations.
Further, the invention of the atomic bomb made a 1918-variety of isolation
extremely unwise and U.S. business became married to global markets. More pervasive than economics or politics alone,
cultural developments facilitated by the Second World War radically changed
life in the United States. During the war the dramatic shift from an
agrarian to an urban society accelerated as millions of rural people moved
to military bases as army personnel or to cities as industrial or
administrative workers. This change in demographics happened swiftly.
Between 1940 and 1950 the percentage of the nation’s rural population fell
from forty-five percent to forty percent. No longer as isolated in the
nation’s vast rural areas, U.S. Americans became more exposed to the
diversity and complexity typical of city life. New ideas and differing
lifestyles expanded the cultural context from which individuals could
operate. Although an obvious conformity dominated mainstream U.S. society in
the postwar years, social experimentation was no longer restricted to
Greenwich Village Bohemians, but soon the testy domain of Beatniks, punks
and politicos scattered from the Big Apple to L.A. In addition to urbanization, black migration
northward also grew as dispossessed Southern blacks found work in Northern
factories: before World War I approximately eight-five percent of all blacks
lived south of the Mason-Dixon Line; after World War II almost one-third
lived north of it. Further removed from Klan terrorism and no longer
secluded in backroad hollows, the urbanization and growing prosperity of
U.S. blacks encouraged demands for better living conditions and civil
rights. Before the Second World War, white Anglo dominated U.S. society and
black submission was assumed. From the late nineteen-forties onward the
existence of people of color and their rejection of racial oppression could
no longer be ignored. Unexpectedly, wartime restructuring of civilian
society also led to a revolution in gender relations and sexual politics. As
they had in the First World War, women again left the home to replace men called
to the battle front—except this time they did not so easily return to the kitchen and nursery after the
war ended. In the years following the Second World War’s end, female
intellectuals and activists questioned the assumed privileges of men.
Challenging sexism and male dominance, feminists began the women’s rights
movement of the 1960s and ‘70s. Even after the decline of radical
feminism, cultural assumptions about what was acceptable in gender roles and
in male-female relationships would remain predispositioned toward finding
greater equality. While some historians point to the social effects of
mobilization as the seedbeds of the postwar black civil rights and feminist
movements, another sort of social reform movement also found its birth in
wartime settings. As thousands of men and women met in huge camps and naval
ports, formerly isolated homosexuals—who otherwise led invisible lives
beyond the attention of the mainstream—discovered others who shared their
sexual and emotional orientation. These contacts led an emerging identity as
a people with a common bond. While previously such individuals feared
reprimand from a disapproving status quo, after the war they found enough
strength in numbers to create the first homophile groups—the Mattachine
Society and the Daughters of Bilitis. Eventually, despite the Federal Bureau
of Investigation’s harassment and Senator Joseph McCarthy’s homophobic
tirades, the pioneering efforts by a few homosexual activists led to a gay
liberation movement during the Vietnam War and to the formation of a gay
subculture. As did feminism, the gay-rights movement indelibly redrew the
former boundaries of sexual politics in the United States. The demographic changes and various movements which
occurred following World War II for social reform indelibly altered the
cultural fabric of the United States. Before the First World War, U.S.
Americans had pre-occupied themselves with settling a continent in record
time and concurrently fashioning cultural institutions largely borrowed from
Northern Europe. In the prewar United States, national myths of Manifest
Destiny and of being a “melting pot” in which individual differences
yielded to an invincible Anglo/Protestant-ruled social order seemed
justified: the economy for the most part grew, immigrants seemed content to
Anglicize their names and strive to become more “American” than the
natives, minorities mostly accepted the cultural domination of white
Christian males and an implicit national consensus appeared to glue the
country together politically. Although Jews,
Blacks, Slavs, Asians, Hispanics, native Americans and homosexuals could be
found throughout the nation, until the middle part of the twentieth century
U.S. leaders and media touted a largely undisputed “American Dream”
which largely excluded each of them. Because selling empty images came much
more easily than embarking on an honest, collective search for authentic
cultural identity, the majority of U.S. Americans largely swallowed without
question the sanitized facades peddled by Madison Avenue and Hollywood.
Instead of fully understanding what the country’s history and social
makeup meant to daily life in the U.S.— how individuals related to each
other, their culture and themselves in the context of past experiences—the
culture too often distracted itself with the pursuit of wealth and power.
The resulting insecurity borne of unfamiliarity with what it means to be an
U.S. Americans perpetuated the cultural restlessness that permeated the
nation’s history long before unexpectedly becoming a world superpower. The quest
of defining the “American experience” admittedly is not an easy one.
Trendy expatriates living in Paris between the world wars found this out
early. Perhaps it was the utterly demanding nature of genuine introspection
that led many of them home before Wall Street ever came close to crashing.
Coming from the confident, booming United States of the Twenties, they
rather flippantly ricocheted through life in Gay Paris until they had talked
through endless nights, drunk themselves silly, painted grotesque portraits,
written angry essays and finally slipped back to the U.S. with only somewhat
clearer ideas of who they were as a people. The unruly children of an
adolescent culture, they were the immature scouts of a nation only beginning
to see itself as an entity separate from its roots. More than the
rebellious Bohemians who populated Paris to escape the stultifying blandness
of Babbittry, more ordinary U.S. Americans who ventured into the world of
the nineteen-thirties represented the mostly adult-life experiences of U.S.
Americans abroad. While the expatriate cliques in 1920s Paris served as a
rich introduction to U.S. culture as seen from a different perspective,
their experiences were like the people who had them: unorthodox, unfocused
and often tragically pathetic. In the sober face of Fascism, a worldwide
Depression and the rumblings of another global war, however, the ante was
upped and U.S. Americans living abroad had more pressing matters on their
minds than which parties to attend, who was sleeping with whom, what writer
was the latest rage and when to hold the next gallery opening. The U.S. Americans in the Third Reich lived in a
peculiar era. The bubble of the intoxicating Twenties had burst, but the
post-World War II internationalism which stressed multinational
corporations, cross-cultural exchanges and myriad military or economic blocs
had not rooted yet either. After 1945 U.S. hegemony over war-torn Europe and
Asia, as well as U.S. cultural influence could not be questioned; in the
1930s, however, such prominence in international affairs was not foreseen
and U.S. Americans continued to play a relatively minor role in the world.
Because of their obscurity, it was during the decade between Wall Street’s
crash and Hitler’s invasion of Poland that U.S. Americans could explore
their “American-ness” abroad with the least amount of distortion or
bias. No longer unsophisticates from the New World dabbling with artful
innovation and not yet hailed as Western Europe’s heroic liberator from
Nazi terror, U.S. Americans in Nazi Germany lived unique lives in an
unusually anxious time under a terrifying, bizarre regime. The experiences
they encountered were early, valuable contributions to that on-going search
for cultural identity. No doubt the cultural background of U.S. Americans in the Third Reich colored their experiences—and those experiences differed from those of other nationalities during the same time. The outstanding question, however, is how did their experiences help them better understand themselves and their country in new and different ways? The answers remain difficult to assess because of the intangible nature of socialization and the particular perceptions of each subject. In general, though, U.S. Americans in Nazi Germany struggled most with the differences between the optimistic individualism characteristic of their native land and the grim authoritarianism of Nazi Germany. Perhaps more than any other value, they discovered that their belief in the worth and potential of the individual became a mere mockery in the face of German Fascism.
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